Listed: Volume I (5 page)

Paul
would agree to pay for all of Emily’s living and medical expenses for the
duration of her life or until the end of their marriage, as well as pay for her
funeral and burial in the cemetery plot next to her father and aunt. Emily
would agree to testify against Vincent Marino and would agree that her living
relatives would receive no rights whatsoever to Paul’s estate after her death. 
There were some more standard clauses about infidelity and divorce scenarios
which the lawyers insisted on including, although obviously they wouldn’t be relevant
for this particular marriage.

Emily
listened carefully as the entire agreement was explained to her. She asked a
few intelligent questions, and she didn’t seem at all fazed by the blunt
discussion of her impending death.

Since
Paul already knew the details of the pre-nup, he didn’t have to pay much
attention. Instead, he watched Emily, wondering what she was really thinking
and how he would feel if he’d been told he had only three months to live.

Emily’s
attention had been directed at the young, brunette lawyer who was explaining
each item in the contract, but at one point she shifted her eyes over to Paul
without warning, catching him staring at her. She cocked her head with a
quizzical look as if she couldn’t figure him out.

“Remember,”
she said, after a moment, “If you cheat on me you’ll have to pay up.”

The
comment clearly startled the brunette lawyer, but Paul had to suppress a laugh.

He
hoped her joke meant that she knew he wasn’t going to be unfaithful in their
short-lived marriage. It would just feel cheap for him to cheat on a dying
wife, whether or not the marriage was a sham.

Eventually,
the pre-nup was signed by both parties, and Emily and Paul got up to leave,
just a little behind their schedule. Paul still had to finish up several things
here in the city before they boarded an international flight this evening, but
things were moving as smoothly as could be expected.

Emily
had to stop in the restroom before they left the offices, and Paul made a couple
of calls as he waited for her near the elevators.

When
he finished his second call and Emily still hadn’t emerged, he started to get a
little worried. Over the last few weeks, he’d discovered that Emily didn’t take
forever in the bathroom, primping and doing whatever other mysterious behavior
took some women so long. So, after waiting a little while longer, he walked
over to the receptionist’s desk.

The
attractive woman behind the desk smiled at him warmly as he began, “My fiancée
has been in the restroom for a long time. Would you mind going to—”

“There
she is,” the receptionist interrupted, looking over Paul’s shoulder with an
expression that made it clear she’d concluded he was both cute and besotted.
“Nothing to worry about.”

Paul
was too relieved by Emily’s appearance to pay much attention to the
receptionist’s reaction. He walked over to Emily, who had gone to stand near
the elevators and was giving him a strange, narrow-eyed look.

“So
I can’t even go to the bathroom without my devoted fiancé flirting with the
secretaries?”

Paul’s
mouth dropped open. “I wasn’t flirting. I was worried about you. Are you all
right?”

“Of
course. What are you talking about?”

For
no reason that made any sense, Paul felt rattled and frustrated all of a
sudden, and he was tempted to make a snide comment that he knew would rile her
up. He bit it back, however, telling himself that no good would come from
picking a fight with Emily when they were getting married the following day and
she only had three months to live.

That
thought made his earlier concern return, and he scanned her carefully as she
reached to punch the elevator's down button.

She’d
been a little pale all day, but he thought she looked even paler now. He
noticed the delicate skin under her eyes was darker than it should be, and her
face was dewy, as if she’d been perspiring. Since the temperature in this suite
was set very low, he couldn’t believe she would have gotten too hot.

“What
are you staring at?” she asked, giving him a decidedly grouchy look.

He
ignored the question and reached his hand over to feel her forehead.

She
jerked away from his touch before he could get a sense of how hot she was.
“What the hell are you doing?”

Torn
between worry and deep annoyance at her irrational behavior, Paul gritted out,
“What do you think I'm doing? I’m checking on you. Do you have a fever?”

“No.”
She stood a few feet away from him, breathing heavily and obviously trying to
compose her expression. “I’m fine.”

“You
don’t look fine. You look like you might be sick.”

“Thanks
a lot,” she muttered sarcastically. “And I tried so hard to be beautiful for
you today."

Then
she took a deep breath, likely forcing herself to be reasonable. “I’m not sick,
Paul. I don’t have a fever. And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t treat me like
an invalid. I wanted to marry you partly because I thought you would treat me
like a regular person and not like I was sick all the time.  I want to enjoy
these last months—not be coddled and trapped in a hospital.”

Paul
forced down a swell of frustration at her stubbornness and of resentment that
she evidently thought he was so heartless that he wouldn't care whether she was
sick or not. “I have no intention of keeping you in a hospital, and I’ll do
everything I can to make sure you enjoy these three months. But part of my
responsibility is to take care of you.”

When
she opened her mouth to object, he pressed on, shaping his words to address the
objection he was sure she would have given, “I
do
need to take care of
you, Emily, if only to ensure that you’re able to testify against my father.”

His
last comment seemed to silence her arguments, and she stared up at the digital
numbers which showed both elevators were still on the lower floors of the
building. He didn’t think she was really seeing the numbers, however—she just
didn’t want to look at him.

“Emily?”
he prompted, wishing his voice wasn’t quite so thick.

She
cut her eyes back to him. She twisted her hands together, and he realized
suddenly they were trembling.

He
felt a sharp stab of concern. Emily looked small and pale and upset. He took an
instinctive step closer to her.

“I
don’t have a fever,” she insisted. “I would know if I did.”

“Then
you won’t mind if I check for myself.”

Her
jaw was set stubbornly, but she gritted out, “Fine.”

He
stepped in front of her and reached out again to place his palm on her
forehead. He was vaguely surprised and very relieved when she didn’t feel
unusually hot. He slid his hand down to her cheek and then back up to her head,
studying her face closely.

“See,”
she said, “I told you. I’m fine.”

“I'm
no expert, but you don’t feel like you have a fever. That’s good.” He was just
lowering his hand when the receptionist he’d spoken to earlier walked by. He
caught a glimpse of the woman’s face, and she was smiling in an amused,
maternal way—as if she’d just caught two young lovers in a tender moment.

Paul
stiffened, feeling more awkward than he should have over such a little thing.

He
was used to being good with women. He instinctively knew how to make women
laugh, make them melt, make them open to his advances—but none of his normal
routines could ever be used on Emily. He’d felt off-kilter ever since she’d
come to him with this crazy scheme, and it seemed to get worse by the day.

He’d
known her casually from around the neighborhood most of her life, and he’d
always felt comfortable with her. She was an intelligent, clever girl who
didn’t unduly tax his emotional resources. Even when he’d felt deep sympathy
for her when she was diagnosed with this virus, she hadn’t made him feel
rattled this way.

It
was probably a sign that this marriage was a mistake, but he’d gone too far to
renege on their agreement now.

The
elevator finally arrived on their floor, and they both got in. As they waited
for the doors to close, Emily said, “I’m sorry I was snippy. I know you were
just trying to help.”

Paul
relaxed a little, verifying from her expression that she was sincere. “I’ll try
not to coddle you too much,” he told her, half-smiling at his use of her word.
“As long as you’ll let me take reasonable steps to make sure you’re taken care
of, as part of my role in this marriage.”

Emily
nodded, looking away from him as if something he’d said had made her feel
self-conscious.

“And
speaking of that,” he added, deciding he might as well get this next thing over
with too. He reached into his pocket.

She
gazed up at him with eyes that looked bigger and bluer because her face was so
pale. He was distracted at the thought that she might be sick even though she
didn’t have a fever.

“What
is it, Paul?” she asked, a faint impatience reflected in her expression.

He
fiddled with a little velvet pouch until the ring came out. “I thought you
might want an engagement ring, since we’re now legally allowed to be engaged.”

Emily
wordlessly stared down at the ring he extended.

He’d
found the ring for her yesterday, since he assumed she would want the entire
wedding experience, of which an important feature for women was the ring.

He’d
gone to the jeweler he normally used for women’s gifts, thinking he’d just get
her a basic diamond solitaire. But the manager had been thrilled at his
unexpected engagement and had asked question after question about what Emily
was like and what she might want, so he’d eventually had to come to a real
conclusion about the kind of ring that would suit her.

He’d
finally landed on the ring he was now presenting to her. The band was a
delicate twining of gold and platinum, intricately filigreed and nestling an
emerald with small diamonds on either side.

He
thought the ring was stunning and had more character than the generic diamond
solitaires on platinum bands everyone seemed to favor now. It had felt like
Emily to him.

But
he started to feel rather self-conscious when she just stood frozen in the
elevator and stared at it.

He
cleared his throat.

“I
didn’t know,” she breathed, her eyes never leaving the ring, “I mean, I didn’t
think you’d get me a ring.”

“Well,
why not?” Ridiculously, he felt almost offended.

“I
don’t know. I just have three months to wear it.”

“Then
you better start now.” When she still didn’t take it, he added, “I thought
maybe you’d like something different, but I can get you a more traditional
diamond if—”

“No!”
she burst out, “This is beautiful. But it’s too much.”

“It’s
not too much.” Since he felt like an idiot holding out the ring she refused to
accept, he moved it back to the same hand as the velvet pouch.

The
elevator stopped on a floor, but the doors opened and closed without anyone
coming on.

“It
must have been really expensive,” she said, when it was clear no one else was
getting on the elevator with them. Her eyes strayed back down to the ring.
“Although I guess you can sell it back, after I…”

Paul
almost choked on his indignation. “I’m not going to sell it back. It’s yours. I
bought it for you. Do you want the damned ring or not?”

Her
eyes lifted to meet his at last. “Yes. Thank you.”

Since
she still made no move to take the ring and they would reach the ground floor
soon, he picked up her left hand. Her hand seemed very small in his, and it was
cooler than he had expected. Resolved to do his duty no matter how foolish he
felt, he slipped the engagement ring on her finger.

“There,”
he said, dropping his hand and stuffing the velvet pouch back in his pocket.

“It
fits,” Emily murmured. She was still extending her hand and staring down at the
ring.

“I
checked your ring size before I bought it.”

“Thank
you,” Emily said, raising her eyes to his again. Her cheeks had flushed pink.
“Thank you so much.”

She’d
always been an impossible mingling of contradictions—somehow coming across as
tough and vulnerable at once—and more so now than ever.

“It’s
fine,” he mumbled, staring at the elevator doors which were just about to open
at last. He'd never been on an elevator ride that had lasted so long. “It’s no
big deal.”

But
Emily seemed to think it
was
a big deal. As they left the building and
walked to the waiting car, Emily kept gazing down at her ring. Her left hand
was fisted, and she held it in her right palm, as if she were cradling her ring.

Paul
experienced a painful pang in his chest—one that wouldn’t go away, even after
they’d gotten to their next stop—as he processed that Emily had been told she
had three months to live, but she was still able to be so sincerely grateful
because someone had given her a ring.