Chapter 40

When I opened the door to grab the mail, Ashton was already standing there with a coffee tray and a paper bag. I blinked. ‘Uh, morning.’ It came out awkward. Couldn’t help it. Last night I’d somehow agreed to marry the man, and my brain was still buffering. ‘Morning,’ he said smoothly. ‘I brought breakfast.’ Of course he had. ‘Thanks. Come in. You look… nice.’ Understatement of the damn year. He was wearing a three-piece charcoal grey suit. Not the stiff Wall Street kind, but something sharp and clearly custom. The lapels were narrow, the trousers tailored within an inch of their life, and the stitching at the cuffs were subtle hand-embroidered initials—AL. Jesus. Even his tie looked smug. People complimented well-dressed men by saying they looked like a million bucks. For Ashton, I’d have to add three more zeros, and that still felt like lowballing it. We ate in the living room, though neither of us touched much. My croissant sat there flaking quietly while my brain looped through the