0451471040 (26 page)

M
olly was married.

Tate liked to think of himself as a modern, enlightened man, but there were some things that were just so ingrained as
right
and
wrong
it would be impossible to pretend they weren’t.

Dating a married woman definitely fell in the
wrong
category. He hadn’t known she was married, but that didn’t really relieve much of the feeling for him. Ignorance wasn’t much of an excuse, but it was all he had.

Of course, dating while married was very wrong, and Molly knew she was married. She couldn’t claim otherwise. It wasn’t exactly something a person just forgot about.

Good Lord, how long had she been married? She’d been in Magnolia Beach for over two years, so at least that long. Then he remembered her saying no one had asked her out since high school. Christ, it could be eight years or more. Maybe even a decade.

She certainly didn’t act married, though, and she hadn’t been glad to see her husband, either.

The shock had delayed any other reaction, but now the pain settled like a knot in his chest.
Molly was married.
He’d wanted to know the secret she’d been hiding, but he’d take the ignorance back gladly.

Standing in the middle of Latte Dah after that scene had him feeling like an exhibit at the zoo. Everyone in town knew they were seeing each other, and he could feel eyes on him, almost hear people asking themselves if
he’d
known, judging him as an accomplice. Once again, he was being judged for the actions of someone else. Something that wasn’t his fault, done by someone he had no control over. But this was worse. He hadn’t been an active participant in his father’s drunkenness and violence, only a recipient. He was half of this couple, and people were going to assign half the blame.

Taking a quick glance at the room, he groaned.
Of course
some of Magnolia Beach’s biggest busybodies just
had
to be here to see this go down. The very best thing he could do in this situation was to act as normal as possible and not make it worse. But how?

Then Quinn pulled him aside. “What the hell was that?”

“I have no idea,” he answered honestly. “I’m just as confused as you are.” How long had it been since Molly dragged her husband away? Five minutes? Ten? It seemed like an eternity. He looked toward the kitchen, but he couldn’t see them in there. Molly must have taken him out through the back door into the alley. Should he go check on her?

“Do you think she’s okay out there?” Quinn asked, the same thoughts obviously going through his mind.

“She didn’t seem afraid of him, but . . .” There was something about that guy that just didn’t seem right, regardless of who he was to Molly. He didn’t like it.

He’d taken one step toward the kitchen when Quinn caught him. “I’ll go. If that guy really is Molly’s . . . well, you know, you might not be the best person to add to the mix. Why don’t you say some good-byes and go back to the clinic. Play it cool until you can find out what’s going on.”

Quinn was a good friend and quick on the uptake. “Thanks.”

With a nod, Quinn was headed out the front door, pausing just long enough to tap Todd West on the shoulder as he passed. Todd stood immediately and followed him, and the two of them disappeared around the side of the building.

Speak to a few people and head back to the clinic.
That’s what acting normal would look like, hopefully smoothing over some of this. If he didn’t make a big deal, people might not think it was a big deal. Deep down he knew he was kidding himself, but it was worth a try.

So, as nonchalantly and unhurriedly as possible, as if this kind of thing happened all the time, Tate said his good-byes to the charity representatives, thanking them for coming. He was surprised at how normal he sounded, proving again how ingrained some things could be. A lifetime of pretending nothing was wrong finally seemed to be paying off. It was twisted. Then, very aware of the conversations in his wake, Tate pushed through the door and out into the street. Five steps away from the door, he ended up face-to-face with the man who’d just introduced himself as Molly’s husband ten minutes earlier.

“So you’re the home-wrecker,” Mark said, leaning against a gray SUV parked at the curb. Anger radiated off him, a big change from the calmness he’d exhibited earlier. Whatever Molly had said to him, it wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.

Molly had lived in Magnolia Beach for nearly three years, he reminded himself. Regardless of anything else, Tate hardly considered himself a home-wrecker. Molly might be married to this guy, but it obviously wasn’t a good marriage. Helena had suspected a bad relationship. It seemed she’d been right.

“Do you often sleep with other men’s wives?”

Mark was a big square-featured guy, the ex-football type who’d gone soft after his glory days. And regardless of his casual stance, he was obviously looking for a fight. Tate was pretty sure he’d be able to hold his own just fine, plus Quinn and Todd were hanging back unobtrusively at the corner, but still he didn’t relish adding public brawling to the hot gossip of the day—with Molly’s husband, no less. That was all this story needed.

But Tate’s ingrained manners were failing him. What did one say to one’s girlfriend’s husband? “Molly never mentioned you.”

“Her name is
Marley
,” Mark gritted out. “Mary Marlene Lane. Not Molly.”

Tate just shrugged, causing Mark’s face to darken in anger.

“You’re sleeping with her and you don’t even know her name. That’s pretty pitiful.”

“No, pitiful is your wife choosing to sleep with someone else instead of you.” It was a juvenile thing to say and would probably give Mark the excuse he was looking for to start swinging, but Tate didn’t care.

“We may have some problems, but all married couples do. We’re working on them. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your hands off my wife while we do.”

“Molly’s lived here for a while now and no one even knew she was married. That doesn’t sound like Molly’s trying too hard to work out those problems.”

“Don’t presume you know anything about my marriage. We may have some problems, but there are other parts of it that are just fine.” Mark cocked his head. “Oh, you didn’t know she’s two-timing you, too?” He snorted. “I suppose sleeping with your husband can’t really be considered cheating on your lover, though.”

It was an ugly, low blow, but untrue, he knew, since
Molly simply hadn’t had the time to sleep with Mark since she’d been with him. But the idea that she’d been keeping her marriage alive all this time still sat uneasy with him. It made him jealous, and he lashed out. “I wouldn’t say that too loud, if I were you. People might think Molly took a lover because her husband wasn’t enough for her.”

That
got a reaction. “You son of a bitch.” Mark pushed out of his lean and stalked toward him, his hands clenched into big, meaty fists.

“Everything all right here?”

The overly casual voice came from behind him, and Tate glanced over his shoulder to see Adam and Ryan Tanner. Both Tanners were also former football players, but unlike Mark they still looked as if they could hit the field at any time. And by the way Mark froze, releasing his fists, Tate knew Mark wasn’t willing to risk three-on-one odds—no matter how angry he might be at the moment.

Keeping his eye on Mark, Tate said, “I think we’re all good.”

Mark stomped back to his SUV and slammed the door.

“That guy really wanted to kick your ass,” Adam said as Mark drove off.

“He was welcome to try.”

“Okay, so who was that and what was that about?” Ryan asked.

So the news hadn’t spread too quickly, but then, even the Magnolia Beach grapevine had a time lag.

Quinn and Todd were already closing the distance. Tate tilted his head in their direction. “They’ll fill you in.”

Both Tanners looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, but he just left them there and headed back to the clinic. He had patients waiting.

And he really didn’t know what else to do.

Either the news was slow to spread—which he doubted—or else he could credit the “behind your back, not to your face” rule of gossip, but either way, no one mentioned the debacle at Latte Dah to him all afternoon.

For that, he was thankful, because he couldn’t guarantee what he might say if he were pressed. Hell, he wasn’t sure what he was even thinking right now.

He forced himself to focus on his four-legged patients—creatures who didn’t lie or play mind games—but the thoughts kept randomly intruding.

Molly was married.

Molly had lied to him.

Okay, she hadn’t
lied
, but she’d withheld a pretty important piece of information.

Molly was married.

Married.

To a real jerk, if first impressions were to be believed.

Married.

And she’d never bothered to mention it.

Christ.

Why?

Somehow, though, even with that litany running through his head, he managed to get through the afternoon. And somehow, he wasn’t all that surprised to find Molly waiting on his porch swing when he got home.

He wasn’t sure that was a good thing. He’d had time, yes, but not the opportunity to process the information, and he wasn’t really ready to deal with Molly just yet.

She looked remarkably calm and clear-eyed, with only the way she was twisting a ring around her index finger giving him a clue she might not be.

“You deserve an explanation,” she said without preamble, pushing to her feet.

“I’m not sure now’s a good time.”

“Please, Tate—”

“Fine. Are you married or not?”

She sighed. “Sort of. You see—”

“There’s no ‘sort of.’ You can’t be ‘sort of’ married. It’s a yes-or-no question.”

“Legally? Yes, I’m still married. But I don’t want to be.”

The odd pang he felt made him realize he’d been holding out a shred of hope that Mark had been lying, and Molly wasn’t actually married. “For how long?”

“Does it really matter?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed again. “I was a very naive, very stupid nineteen-year-old, so nearly eight years now.”

“And you didn’t think this was something I should know?”

“Yes, but . . . it’s complicated.”

“Not really. You’re married, and I don’t date other men’s wives.”

“If you’ll just give me a chance to explain . . .” She dragged her hands through her hair, causing the curls to spring out crazily. Her big brown eyes were sad, her face pale and resigned when she finally looked at him. She was obviously miserable. At least they had that much in common. “Can we please go inside to talk?”

He opened the door and went inside, leaving her to follow if she wanted to. She closed the door carefully behind her. “I’m sorry you found out this way.”

Not
Sorry I lied
or even
Sorry I’m married
. Just sorry that he’d found out. “It was certainly dramatic. And very public.”

“And I’m so sorry about that, too. Mark couldn’t have timed that better if he tried.” She sat on the edge of the couch and took a deep breath. “Please know that I wasn’t trying to deceive you by not telling you.”

“You just forgot you were married?”

“No.” An exasperated laugh punctuated her answer.
“I wish I could. I don’t
feel
married, though. Mark and I have been separated for a long time. Over three, almost four years now. I haven’t even seen him or spoken to him since before I left Fuller.”

That helped a little. “He seems to think you’ll be patching it up.”

“He’s very wrong about that,” she snapped. “I will eventually get my divorce. It’s just been difficult.”

“Really, Molly? Wait, according to your husband”—she flinched at the word—“your name’s not even Molly. Is
anything
I know about you the truth?”

She met his eyes evenly and in a calm voice said, “Molly is a nickname my grandmother used to call me. Richards is my maiden name. I’ve never lied to you or anyone else about who I am or where I come from.”

“You just left out the part about being married.”
Which somehow colored everything else.

The calm tone disappeared. “Because I thought I’d be divorced before it ever became an issue!” she shouted.

Good Lord.
He leaned against the couch. “Guess not.”

Visibly deflating, Molly rubbed her hands over her face. “Tate, please. You don’t understand—”

“What don’t I understand? It’s not that hard to get a divorce if you really want one.”

“In Fuller it is,” she said flatly. “Mark’s family is influential in Fuller. The way the Tanners are here, only the Lanes use their power and influence for evil.” Her attempt at humor fell flat. “Our church doesn’t believe in divorce, and my family practically disowned me when I left him. Then I couldn’t find an attorney who’d represent me—they were either friends with the Lanes or not willing to make enemies of them. Mark wasn’t going to give me an easy divorce—that was very clear from the get-go—so when I finally found an attorney willing
to do it, he asked for a huge retainer, which I didn’t have. Then my grandmother died and left me some money. I used that to pay the retainer, move to Magnolia Beach, and open Latte Dah.”

It was a sad story, but it rang true enough. “So what’s the holdup?”

Her mouth twisted. “Mark. His attorney covered me in paperwork until I ran through the retainer. The rest of my money was locked up in the shop, so everything was on hold for a while until I had more to spend. The judge plays golf with Mark’s dad, so he keeps postponing and rescheduling. And every now and again Mark’s attorney drops another request on me that requires me to pay more money and shuffle more papers around. I think Mark either thinks he’ll wear me down or bankrupt me. So three years after filing for divorce, I’m still married.”

“And you couldn’t just tell me that?”

“When? When’s the right time to tell someone that?”

“At the beginning. When I kissed you. When I asked you out the first time.”

“I
tried
.”