Accidentally Married on Purpose (25 page)

Her heart was irreversibly gone. Claimed by her husband. That’s what sex with Tyler had felt like—a claiming—and she was his. Permanently, forever, and whether he ever knew it—or even
wanted
it—or not. Love was a strange beast. It came in many forms, and that’s why at first she hadn’t recognized it. What she felt for Tyler, even before last night, was so drastically different from anything she’d experienced before. This love was empowering, and it gave Sherry the strength to do something so completely unlike her. Be selfless.

Oh, with friends and family, local charities, she gave rather than took. She strove to meet their needs without being asked, and worked for whatever was best for the cause. That made her feel good, and she took pride in that fact. But in relationships, she tended to look out for herself. Whenever she felt the guy slipping away, she’d cling tighter. She was so terrified of being alone, unloved, that she chose to stay with men who treated her poorly, and often guilted others so they wouldn’t leave her.

Tyler deserved better. He deserved to live his dream, conflict-free, without her bringing him down. Last night, she’d glimpsed the turmoil in his eyes. Whether it was a trick of the shadows, silly hope, or even the truth, she’d also seen affection. Obviously not enough, and clearly not to the extent she felt, but enough that he didn’t want to hurt her. She refused to let guilt trap another man, and especially not
this
one. The selfless thing to do, the
loving
thing to do, was walk away.

Feeling another sob rising, Sherry squeezed her eyes shut. The pain was intense, and she knew it’d only get worse. She needed to leave, and she needed to do it before Tyler woke up. Shifting slowly out of his arms, she slid across the mattress. The
swish
of cotton was magnified in the quiet, and she paused, eyes trained on the steady rise and fall of his chest. Convinced she hadn’t woken him, Sherry got up and dressed quickly.

Dress on, she grabbed her new pack of Post-its. Shoving a thick section of hair behind her ear, she uncapped a pen.

Where to begin?

Sherry wasn’t a writer. She filled her house with books and married a lyrical poet, but making sense of her jumble of thoughts was impossible. Especially when it came to the man who’d stolen her heart. With the sun rising behind her, and Tyler’s internal clock ticking against her, she decided to borrow from the expert.

Music Man,
YOU
deserve the life you’ve always dreamed of.
I wish you nothing but the best.
Thank you for the fairy tale.
Sherry
P.S. The house will be empty. Keep the key. You’re welcome any time.
Biting her lip so hard she could taste blood, trapping the sounds of her crying, she stuck the note to the television in plain sight, and then hurriedly slipped out the hotel room door.

…

Tyler’s head felt hollow. Pillow over his eyes, he sensed the sunlight hitting the bed and knew it was time to get up. But he wasn’t ready. Unlike the last time he’d awoken in a hotel, his daze was a result of lack of sleep—not too much alcohol—and he knew exactly what to expect when he opened his eyes.

He was married to a beautiful woman. She made him laugh and smile, more often than he could ever remember. Challenged him to dig deeper, be better. His accountant was now used to Tyler’s frequent calls with yet another charitable donation. She’d inspired him to create the best songs of his career.

And yet, he was leaving her in a mere matter of hours.

“Time to wake up, sugar.” He wasn’t surprised when Sherry didn’t reply. The woman slept hard, and if he was dragging ass this morning,
she
was going to be an interesting sight. Why the thought of that made him grin into his pillow, he didn’t know.

“Sweet lips…” Tyler spread his hand out on the mattress, prepared to feel soft, sexy female. All he got was luxurious cotton. Prying a corner of the pillow away from his eyes, he squinted into the lit room and found the other half of the bed empty.

The woman and her constant bathroom trips. Her pea-sized bladder was why he’d started with the notes on the mirror. Early on, he’d discovered it was the one room she visited the most. And the only one guaranteed where she’d find anything. The kitchen was hit or miss. The living room too big a disaster to see a note, much less anything else. And slipping into her bedroom every morning would’ve been too tempting.

Chuckling, Tyler slammed the pillow back over his head, and a floral scent hit his nose.

Making love to Sherry had been incredible. It hadn’t just lived up to his fuzzy-edged memories of Vegas—it obliterated them. Holding her, hearing his name on her lips, he’d almost said too much. Let emotions run away with him and asked for more. That would’ve been dangerous. Tyler was a plan man. He didn’t live on impulse. Nothing about their circumstances changed overnight. She still had a career to start here…his was elsewhere. But damn, he’d miss her like crazy.

He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and checked the time. He had to be at the airport in a couple hours. Another few minutes passed with no sound from the bathroom.

“Sherry?”

When she didn’t answer this time, a spasm rocked his chest…and he knew. A confused, hurt glance about the room confirmed the truth when he saw a Post-it stuck to the television.

Sherry was gone.

Chapter Eighteen

Green rooms were forever ruined. Even swank ones like the room backstage at
Late Night with Jennifer Marr
. It’d been a month and two weeks since Tyler had set foot inside a place like this, prepared for another bland meal of pasta, and discovered a Cajun feast laid out in the middle of the desert. Served by a sass-mouthed waitress who’d rocked his entire world.

“Thirty minutes.”

His fingers stilled on his laptop. He’d been responding to emails, trying to keep his mind occupied. Arianne waved her cell phone, signaling she was stepping out to answer a call.

“You’re on in thirty. Be sure to lose the gloom and doom by then.”

Gotta love empathy.

Of course, to the rest of the world, Tyler Blue was a happily married man doing his job. Traveling, promoting his band’s recent release, gearing up for their gigantic tour. But his publicist knew better.
She
knew that Sherry wasn’t simply waiting at home for him to return. In fact, Tyler didn’t know when he’d see his wife again. If ever.

The truth of that fell over him and settled like a rock in his gut. He missed her. So damn much. Missed hearing her laugh, seeing her smile, the sweet scent of flowers in her hair. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to say good-bye—although that had probably been her intent. Good-byes sucked, and he couldn’t blame her for wanting to avoid it.

But not being able to say it?

Not holding her in his arms
knowing
it’d be the last time?

That was proving to be torture.

This was what he’d claimed to want the entire time. Blue was back on top of the country charts. In its first week, their new album had sold more copies than any of their others ever had, and the single, “Rain Dance,” had shot to number one. Critics loved the record, concert stadiums were selling out, and Tyler’s musical future was secure.

So why did it feel empty?

Why did performing that song hurt so badly? Why did his so-called dream suddenly feel less than? He was doing his job the same as he’d done every other day prior to meeting Sherry Robicheaux, only now, it felt hollow. Like an essential piece of himself had been left behind in Magnolia Springs.

With a curse, Tyler snapped his laptop closed. That distraction hadn’t helped. What else did he have?

Desperate to get thoughts of his wife, her dog, and her sleepy hometown out of his head, he set his boots on the coffee table and opened his messenger bag. He kept it filled for whenever boredom struck in situations like this. Or, you know, when he couldn’t escape memories of Sherry.

He vetoed the notebooks and legal pads (those just reminded him of the last songs he’d written), and he’d already read the latest
Men’s Health
cover to cover. Twice. Settling for his beat-up copy of
Catcher in the Rye
, Tyler grabbed the book, only to find something shoved within its pages.

A DVD entitled “Our Wedding.”

Damn. He’d forgotten he’d put it in here.

Yeah, he’d just been complaining that he needed his thoughts
off
Sherry, but curiosity was too powerful. With a quick glance to make sure he was alone, Tyler slid the DVD from its case. He popped it into his laptop and, grabbing his ear buds, settled back on the sofa, eager to see Sherry’s face.

Unlike the hollow ache he felt any other time he’d seen her picture or answered a question about her from the press over the last fourteen days, Tyler expected to laugh at their drunkenness. Remember the crazy weekend they’d shared. Perhaps fill in a few missing gaps.

The classic, romantic anthem of “Love Me Tender” swelled through his ear buds, and the black screen transformed into an interior shot of a standard, run-of-the-mill chapel. What wasn’t so run-of-the-mill? The circa-1950s Elvis in black leather at the end of the aisle, standing beside a top-hat-wearing Tyler.

Where in the hell had he gotten
that
?

On-screen, Tyler suddenly smiled a toothy grin, and the camera panned to show Sherry waltzing toward him. Her white lacy veil and a bouquet of white roses screamed bridal. The jeans and sweater combo? Not so much. Coming to a stop beside him, she stage-whispered on screen, “I’m so glad we got young, hot Elvis. The white jumpsuit version is depressing.”

The officiant’s top lip twitched in a smile.

Tyler felt his lip twitch, too.

Fascinated, he kept watching, waiting for the moment it became obvious they were out of their skulls. Unaware of what they were doing. Making a giant mistake. Only…it never really happened.

Oh, they were clearly intoxicated. The Tyler on video never once stopped smiling; Sherry kept cracking jokes. When Elvis asked if she’d take “Tyler Blue to be her husband,” she wrinkled her nose before bursting with laughter. “Your name is
Blue
? Like the lead singer’s? What a coincidence!”

Yeah, sober Sherry would’ve been quicker on the uptake.

But for all their smiles and laughter and over-the-top flirtation, neither of them looked confused. They weren’t falling down or stumbling. They didn’t slur their words. They appeared completely lucid and excited. In fact, when the ceremony ended, and it came time for his on-screen self to plant one on his bride, Tyler lifted Sherry in his arms and said, “Now it’s too
late
to say no. You’re stuck with me.”

Real-life Tyler’s feet hit the ground.

Suddenly it all came back to him. The casino floor and the hot streak at the craps table. Dancing in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, staring up at the neon lights, and looking down into her wide, joy-filled eyes.

It’d been
his
idea to get married.

This whole time, both he and Sherry had naturally assumed it’d been hers. Between the facts and, well, their personalities, that much had seemed like a given. Shock rippled over him…along with the strangest feeling. Almost as if he’d somehow known all along.

“Oh, good, the mope is gone.”

Dazedly, Tyler looked up, and Arianne winked from the doorway. “It’s show time.”

When he nodded in acknowledgment, she slipped into the hall. He glanced around the room, scrubbed a hand over his face, and huffed a humorless laugh.

What in the hell am I doing?

Drunk Tyler was so much smarter than the sober version. He’d known how special Sherry was and scooped her up before it was too late. God, was it too late
now
?

Powering down his laptop, he shoved it into his bag, mind whirling.

His career had always been his dream. It had been all he’d ever known. But that was before Vegas. Before he’d spent a month with an intoxicating woman who surpassed any high performing could’ve brought. His job may very well be on the road for the next few months, but his heart and his life remained wherever his wife was. He finally understood what his old man meant.

Sherry wasn’t a distraction. She didn’t split his focus. She
was
his focus. And without her, music didn’t matter.

The walls of the green room faded as scenarios filled his head. Ways to persuade her to come on the road, options for her to build her career while doing so. Setting down roots, splitting time between Nashville and Magnolia Springs. Doing everything he could to make
both
their dreams come true…and in the end, whenever that wasn’t possible, knowing that for him, Sherry was the ultimate dream.

Memories collided with exciting new possibilities for the future as Tyler joined Charlie behind the sound stage. His best friend glanced over and nudged him in the ribs. “You okay, dude?”

Tyler nodded distractedly. “I will be.”

The P.A. standing behind the curtain held a palm to her ear. “And…we’re out for commercial. Blue, take the stage.”

The crew sprang forward, ready for the first televised performance of their new single, but Charlie stilled him with a handle to the elbow. “You awake yet?”