Knowing the Score (22 page)

Her head whipped around fast enough to pull a muscle. “What?”

“Your visa’s expiring soon. Do you have any other way of staying in the country?”

She searched desperately for an answer. Staying in the country would be easiest, practically speaking. But
married?
“No. I can’t. I’m sorry, Spencer, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

She gulped down her panic and tried to think rationally. She wouldn’t mind staying in the country—she liked her job and her friends. Parenting had to be easier when the father lived in the same city. She and their baby would have better maternity and health benefits than in the States. But she wouldn’t marry him, wouldn’t tie herself to him permanently. Her mother had made that very same mistake. For heaven’s sake, she’d just seen Spencer hit a grown man! She didn’t believe he would hit her, but wasn’t that proof she didn’t know him well enough to legally bind herself to him?

“I can’t. I promise I won’t deny your parental rights. You can visit us in D.C., and I’ll bring the baby here once a year.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. When he finally spoke, it was just above a whisper. “Caitlyn, do you have any idea who my father is?”

She sat back in surprise. Was his father someone famous? “No.”

“Neither do I. He was just some kid at uni who screwed my mum and then fucked off when he heard she was pregnant.” He turned to face her completely on the couch, his features twisted in determination. “I will not be like my father. I want to be a daily presence in my child’s life, like Granddad has been to me. I
need
to be.”

Tears clogged her throat, but before she could respond Spencer slid to his knees in front of her. Twice he’d humbled himself before her like this, something she’d never imagined a man doing. He rested his hands on her legs. Such big hands. They covered more than half the length of her thigh. Such swollen knuckles, marred with nicks and scrapes. Could she really trust them not to strike her? More importantly, not to hurt their baby?

“Sweetheart, listen to me,” he begged in a grave voice. “I understand why you’re scared. I do. But I promise I will
never
hurt you. Not you, not our child, not anyone off the rugby pitch. If you marry me, I’ll spend the rest of my life loving you and the family we make.”

Love? Oh, God, did he just say the
L
word? She started to shake her head, but his thumbs rubbing tiny circles against her skin stopped her. A tiny, unconscious caress. One that seemed so like him. It wasn’t the first time he leashed his body’s power to soothe her in just the right way. When she’d cut her hand and bled all over his granny’s photo. When she’d been burning alive with fever. When she’d revealed just a small part of her heartbreak in his bathtub.

“Say yes. Please. We both know this is right. You just have to trust me, trust yourself. Take that step, sweetheart, and let’s be our own team.”

She bit down hard on her trembling lip, praying she wasn’t making the worst mistake of her life. When she tasted blood, she let her lip slide from between her teeth and plunged headfirst into the unknown.

“Yes.”

Chapter Twenty-One

The night before their wedding, Caitlyn walked to Spencer’s apartment to have dinner with him and Philip. Philip had offered to host a big party with all their friends, but Spencer had managed to gently dissuade him, for which Caitlyn was immensely grateful.

She’d barely seen her betrothed since the day he’d proposed. After registering their intention to marry, they’d been forced to wait before they could have the ceremony. Where was Vegas when you needed it?

Spencer hadn’t seemed to mind the time apart. For the past three weeks, he’d been consumed by playing for England against teams that were visiting from the southern hemisphere. They’d organized almost everything over the phone or through email. She’d needed the distance to sort through the changes life had thrown at her, and he seemed to understand that without her telling him.

Her boots crunched through the slushy dregs of London’s first snow of the season as she made her way through Wapping’s cobblestone streets. In hardly any time, she reached the converted warehouse that would become her home tomorrow. Morning sickness had hit her hard and hit her often, so she wasn’t sure whether the nausea she felt at the prospect of marriage was her subconscious or her fetus. Either way, her throat seized at the thought of getting married because her body and passport had trapped her.

She’d never believed she would get married. She’d never dreamed of wedding dresses and fancy cakes. Those precious weeks she’d spent secretly loving Spencer before they’d found out she was pregnant had taught her that maybe she just needed to choose the right husband.

But not like this. She couldn’t bear the nagging doubt that maybe she’d made her mother’s mistake all over again.

At Spencer’s building, she punched in the code he’d given her and waved hello to the doorman as she passed his desk. Stepping out of the elevator a few minutes later, she used her newly cut key to let herself into Spencer’s apartment. Philip rushed toward her and threw his skinny arms around her, kissing both of her cheeks in greeting. She clung to him, his warm embrace reminding her of the reasons for going through with the wedding. At least this way, she could give her child a wonderful great-grandfather and the stability of a loving father. Hopefully.

Speaking of fathers...Spencer came out of the kitchen and crossed to her. “All right?”

She returned his slight smile and nodded. He kissed her lightly on the lips and helped her shrug out of her coat, hanging it on a peg behind the door. She caught his scent of spicy grooming products, and it brought back happy memories from before their relationship had spiraled beyond her control. Whenever she’d spent the night here, she’d ended up smelling like him and had to fight off a silly grin all day. Being near him now brought a strange sense of comfort mixed with nerves, happiness and arousal. She’d wondered how he’d fared over the past few weeks, and looking at him she had her answer. Tired. Nervous. Their situation clearly troubled him as much as it did her. This couldn’t be the way he’d imagined his marriage starting—having to convince his bride-to-be that he would never hit her.

“Well, dear girl,” Philip gushed, clapping his hands together. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that my lug of a grandson finally realized you were perfect for him.”

Spencer grimaced, and Caitlyn lowered her gaze to the floor. Should she tell Philip how unfair that comment was?

But Philip rushed on before she could say anything. “I’ll get out of your way so your groom can greet you properly. Let me get you a glass of bubbly.”

Her surprised glance leaped to Spencer, who gave her a small shake of the head as Philip disappeared into the kitchen. “I didn’t tell him.”

His deep voice and warm breath swept over her ear, making her shiver. God, she’d missed him, missed how they’d been together. “What are you waiting for?”

He took her elbow and led her into the living room, settling next to her on the couch. “I wanted to make sure you really showed up tomorrow.”

Her stomach tightened. She pushed a few unruly curls behind her ear with a shaky hand. “I wouldn’t do that to you, Spencer.”

His mouth kicked up at the corner. He clearly wasn’t convinced. “I know this hasn’t come about in the ideal way, Caitlyn, but before he comes back out here I need to know whether you really want this.” He threaded his fingers through hers, tugging her closer as he stared at her with heartbreaking honesty. “I will do everything possible to be a good husband to you. I’m not your father. And I’m not that prick Seth. I lose my temper sometimes, but I promised I would
never
hurt you. And if that means I have to let go of you now...” He broke off and clenched his jaw. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t want to coerce you into marrying me. If Washington is what you want, I’ll figure something out.”

He gently squeezed her fingers in emphasis. The sincerity of his words spread through her like lava, melting and scorching her all at once. He was telling the truth. He would let her go. The one thing her father and Seth had never offered to do was let go. The fear she’d carried for weeks lifted, leaving relief in its wake. She had a chance to make this marriage real. All she had to do was embrace it, embrace a future with the man she loved.

A humming Philip backed out of the kitchen before she could share her revelation with Spencer. She had to settle for pressing her fingers against his and cuddling closer as Minnie rushed to greet her, leaping onto her lap.

“Hello, Minnie,” she crooned, stroking the dog’s soft fur with her free hand, never losing awareness of Spencer’s taut body heating up her side or the dread he must be feeling. He shifted when Philip slid two glasses of champagne and, since Spencer didn’t drink during the season, a sparkling water for Spencer onto the coffee table in front of them. Instead of pulling away, though, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer, as if he couldn’t bear to separate.

Spencer picked up their drinks, passing the water to Caitlyn as Philip turned his back and drew a familiar box from the bookcase. He sat in an armchair across from them, cradling the box as if it contained the heart of the woman he loved—which, in a way, it did.

“I tried to think of what I should give you,” he started. “I realized that nothing I own could come close to the things you two have given me.”

He glanced at Caitlyn. “My life.” And at Spencer. “And years of joy.”

His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed hard. Pushing the box toward them, he finally let it go and settled back in his chair. “Then I realized that there is one thing I could give you. These letters from Lily are my most precious possession, but their words are written in my memory and my heart. I’d like you to have them, because the one thing I needed most when I married was reassurance that we could weather every storm.”

Philip lifted his glass toward Caitlyn. She met his teary gaze with her own. “My dear, I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to meet the woman who would turn my grandson inside out. I saw the way you looked at him in my hospital room that first day—like you wouldn’t take any of his guff—and I knew then you were the one I’d been waiting for. I’m so pleased and proud to call you my granddaughter. Welcome to the family.”

He paused to clear his throat. Caitlyn’s chest ached as she struggled to keep control of her emotions. Then Spencer pressed his lips to her temple, and tears slipped down her cheeks. “Thank you, Philip.”

“Granddad,” he corrected her.

“Granddad,” she whispered and stood to give him a long embrace. When she sat next to Spencer again, she snuggled against him and took the tissue he’d yanked from a box on the coffee table to dry her eyes.

“And you,” Granddad said, turning toward Spencer. “Your granny and I have always been proud of you, Spencer. You know that. And if she were here today, she’d tell you to eat a lot of iron tonight, to keep up your strength for your wedding night, while inside she would burn with pride for the man you’ve become—just like I do. You are the best thing that ever happened to us, son. I wish you and your bride a lifetime of joy, happiness and family who make you feel as proud as I do now.”

His voice broke at the end, but Caitlyn barely heard because Spencer had squeezed her so hard against his chest that she could hardly breathe. Her throat burned with tears that wouldn’t remain unshed for long. Spencer thanked his grandfather with a gruff voice, giving his hand a manly shake.

For the first time in her life, Caitlyn understood what it meant to be part of a family. The pain and the joy of their shared experiences, shared heartbreaks and shared triumphs mingled until one person’s emotions couldn’t be separated from another’s. But between them, they shouldered each other’s burdens and rejoiced in each other’s successes.

Yes.
Caitlyn was finally ready to get married. And when Philip turned away to deal with his emotions in privacy, she whispered in Spencer’s ear, “I love you, too.”

* * *

The wedding would be a simple, private affair at the borough’s register office on a Saturday when Spencer had no match. They hadn’t told many people. The only guests would be their two witnesses, Philip and Emma.

Except that, as Caitlyn pulled on her silky, cream-colored dress at home, she heard Emma’s cell phone trill, followed by the professional voice Emma reserved for journalists.

Caitlyn stepped into the living room to eavesdrop. Sitting at the table in a navy dress, Emma gripped her bangs so tightly that Caitlyn worried she’d bald herself. Emma’s über-calm voice contrasted with the pained expression on her face. “Of course you wanted to follow up on the lead. And I appreciate you calling and giving us the opportunity to look into the matter. When’s your deadline?”

She glanced at Caitlyn and let go of her hair long enough to mime shooting herself in the temple.

“Mmm-hmm, of course I’ll have a response for you by then. Thank you again.” She disconnected the call. “Fucking cock-gobbler.”

Caitlyn leaned against the doorjamb, checking the living room clock. Ten minutes till they had to leave. “Everything all right?”

Normally Emma would’ve spouted a string of creative curses, so Caitlyn knew she was in trouble when her friend gave her a deeply regretful look. “I’m so sorry.”

“No. Please. No. We need a witness, Em.”

“He’s trying to rake up dirt on our CEO. On a
Saturday.
” Emma flipped open her laptop and woke it up. “I will be your witness. I swear to you and the God I don’t believe in—but mostly you.” She started typing. “This will take me fifteen minutes, tops. You go to your wedding, stall them a bit and I
promise
I won’t let you down.”

Caitlyn drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself since stress seemed to piss off the baby and her own gag reflex. “I’m holding you to that, Em. And I swear to the God that I
do
believe in, I will hunt you down and hurt you if you mess this up for Spencer and me.”

Emma blinked at her, then motioned her away with a flick of the wrist. “Then stop distracting me! Go!”

Caitlyn arrived at the register office with a few minutes to spare. She entered the waiting room outside the vestry to find Spencer sitting alone, his dark suit taut over his wide shoulders as he rested his elbows on widespread knees. He glanced up at her with a relieved smile, and her heart ached that, despite last night, he still thought she might not show.

“I’m here,” she said.

“I’m happy.” He reached for her, tugging her closer when she put her hand in his. She sat on one of his rock-solid thighs and frowned when she saw his face up close. “You didn’t have these bruises last night.”

“From yesterday’s practice. They were fresh yesterday, so they look worse today. Will you still have me?” He nuzzled her neck, and God but she’d grown to love the all-encompassing size of him. Being this close, feeling the stroke of his nose across the sensitive skin of her nape, sent shivers all through her.

“Yes, you beast. I’ll still have you.”

“Good. Granddad’s in the loo. Where’s Emma? I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

Before she could answer, a woman with a tight, no-nonsense bun and horn-rimmed glasses stepped into the waiting room. She stretched out her hand, and Caitlyn stood to clasp it. “Hello, I’m Fran Payne. I’ll be the registration officer performing your wedding ceremony.”

Caitlyn shook her hand. “Caitlyn Sweeney, bride-to-be.”

Fran glanced around the room. “And your witnesses?”

“Need a few more minutes,” Spencer answered.

Fran checked her watch. “Just so you know, we’re fully booked today. Your witnesses should’ve arrived with you, and if they’re not here in five minutes we won’t have time for the ceremony.”

She disappeared into her office, leaving Caitlyn to face Spencer’s frustration. “She’ll be here, Spence. She promised.”

His head jerked in a nod.

Five minutes later, Emma was still a no-show. Caitlyn tried calling, but her phone was busy. Spencer paced the room. Trying to wrestle control of her anger and disappointment, Caitlyn marched up to the registrar’s desk. Fran munched on a mini pork pie and flipped through the latest issue of
Heat
magazine, which she quickly shoved in a drawer when Caitlyn approached.

“Excuse me, Ms. Payne?” Caitlyn’s soft voice brought the registrar’s face up.

“Yes?”

“I’m really sorry about our witness being late.”

“I’m sure you are, Miss Sweeney. But please bear in mind that we’re completely booked today. If she doesn’t arrive in the next minute, you’ll have to reschedule.”

They couldn’t come back. They were already cutting it so close to the date Caitlyn needed to apply for a new visa or face deportation. But, of course, she couldn’t tell a government employee that.

Instead, she went on as if Fran hadn’t spoken. “You see, there was an emergency—” The registrar rolled her eyes. “Emma and I work for IDEA—”

Fran’s head shot up. “IDEA? The women’s charity?”

Got her.
“Yes. I manage the Africa and Caribbean relief programs, and Emma’s a press officer.”

Fran sighed. “I’ve supported your work for years. I think what you do is just amazing.”