My Best Friend's Bride (27 page)

“You love me, Hunter. I know you do.”

“Yeah? Well, do you love me? Will you take me as I am, now that I’m unemployed and no longer successful? Could you really love a man who would sell his soul on paper, even to you?”

Jill stared at him, because at this moment, she didn’t know what to think. This was a side of Hunter she hadn’t seen. An angry side. He was so out of sorts and seemed to be laying it all on her. The air hung heavy between them as icy winds ripped at their clothing and lashed at their skin. At long last, Jill whispered, “What happened with
Tempo Beat
wasn’t my fault.”

“Perhaps not, but we’re both to blame for signing that contract. How could we believe it would never blow up on us? That such a ludicrous plan could work? Or did you maybe hope we’d
really
fall in love and then live happily ever after?”

When she didn’t answer immediately, he said, “Here’s a little advice for your new book: Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

“Is that really how you feel?” she asked, her voice shaking. “That everything was a mistake?”

“Things sure haven’t worked out stellar for us, have they?” He raked a hand through his hair, then abruptly asked, “What did Morgan have to say?”

“Browning’s rescinded the book deal.”

“And your advance?”

“The publisher said I can keep that.”

“Well then, that’s something. The marriage wasn’t a total loss.”

Jill reached for him as he stepped into his SUV, but Hunter pulled back. “I told you I didn’t want half the money and I still don’t. I’ll mail you the check returning my fifty percent tomorrow.”

Snow lightly drifted around her as Jill watched Hunter’s SUV pull away and her heart shattered into a billion pieces. Fifi dejectedly sat by her side and whimpered. “I know, Sport,” Jill said with a sob. “I know.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Brad helped Hunter unpack the last box. Hunter had returned to his condo and everything was settling into place. The moving truck had brought Hunter’s things back from Jill’s this morning. “I’m sorry that you let someone like Cassandra wield this power over you.”

“It wasn’t Cassandra, it was Jill,” Hunter said. “And you, Brad. Don’t think I can’t remember the two people who dragged me into this.”

“I’ve already apologized a dozen times.”

“You know I’m not really mad at you. I’m mostly angry with myself.”

Brad sadly shook his head. “I never imagined it would end this way.”

“That’s what we all get for being stupid.”

“Hunter,” Brad told him. “I can’t believe you’d just walk. At Thanksgiving, things between you and Jill seemed to be—”

“It was nothing, okay? Nothing without that gosh-darned contract. Maybe I’d fooled myself into believing there was more, but that just shows how gullible I was. You should have seen the way Jill looked at me. It was like I was someone she didn’t even know. Honestly? I think Jill was pretty relieved when I left. Particularly when I said I’d send back the money.”

Brad sighed. “What do you plan to do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe relocate.”

“Have you heard from your parents?”

“Oh yeah.”

“What did they say?”

“How I’d embarrassed them terribly in front of their friends.
Hunter, how could you?
Trust me on this, I won’t be relocating there.”

“That’s rough.”

“What’s even rougher was the humiliation I experienced in front of people I’d viewed as my friends, the ones I’d supervised and been good to at Abrams. You should have seen them lining up to watch me clean out my desk with their sad and disappointed faces.”

“What’s Jill going to do?”

“I have no idea. I didn’t ask her.”

“Hunter, just take a moment.”

Hunter glared at him.

“Okay, fine. Take a few days, a week. But then think about what you’re losing. Maybe Jill was meant for you.”

“I gave her a chance to tell me, Brad. Say that she still wanted me anyway, even after I’d lost my job—and my reputation. And you know what she said?” Brad stared at him blankly as he continued, “Absolutely nothing.”

Jill finished singing a Christmas carol with her grandpa, then went to grab them some eggnog from the festive table the staff of Green Meadows had prepared. When she returned, he asked her, “Why isn’t Hunter here with you? Since today is a Sunday, he can’t have work?”

“No, he doesn’t.” Jill pulled up a chair and sat beside him as a pianist with blue-gray hair began a new holiday tune and the other residents and their families joined in singing. Jill hesitated a moment, gathering her courage. “Grandpa,” she finally said. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

Her grandfather turned his eyes on hers. “If it concerns that
Tempo Beat
article, I know all about it.”

Jill gasped. “You what?”

“It made the evening news.”

“I’m so sorry.” She hung her head. “That must have been very embarrassing for you.”

“I’m old enough to know it’s not all about me, Jill,” he answered solemnly. “How are you and Hunter holding up?”

Jill turned the eggnog cup in her hands. “We’re not.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Her grandfather’s expression was puzzled. “Did you not listen to anything I told you—about love and sacrifice?”

“This is different, Grandpa. The marriage…it wasn’t…” She sniffed and dabbed the corner of her eye with a napkin. “It wasn’t real.”

“Poppycock!” her grandpa declared. “I saw the two of you together and I saw you apart. What you had with Hunter was as real as most marriages I’ve witnessed, maybe more.”

“None of that matters much now,” she told him sadly.

His brow wrinkled with concern. “Has something else happened?”

“Hunter’s moved out.”

Her grandpa heaved a sigh. “Oh, dear.”

They sat there listening to another song proceed through several stanzas and a chorus. When it ended, her grandpa asked, “Will you come over for Christmas dinner?”

Jill gave a wan smile. “Of course I will.”

“Superb. Because if anyone can help straighten out this problem between you and your husband, it’s my Rose. She’ll be here, did I tell you?”
 

Jill bit into her lip and paused before replying softly, “No, I don’t think so.”

Her grandpa looked distant a moment, smiling at the twinkling lights on the artificial Christmas tree. “You’ll love meeting her, my Rose. She’s a real angel, you know.”
 

Cassandra knocked at Mauve’s front door, then rapped loudly once more. She pushed in the doorbell a couple of times, thinking he had to have heard her by now. Finally, the door swung open and Mauve stood there in ratty sweatpants and that darned pizza delivery shirt. “Mauve!” she cried in horror. “What are you doing? We’ll be late for the party!”
Tempo Beat
was throwing a big celebration and Cassandra was their new star. Her recent exposé had rocked the gossip rag world, and she’d been promoted to managing editor of the magazine. Tonight was technically
Tempo Beat
’s annual Christmas party, but her boss had let her know there’d be a presentation in her honor. Accordingly, Cassandra had dressed to the nines in a bright red, figure-hugging sweater dress and chic black boots. And just look at what Mauve was wearing!

“I’m not going, Cassandra.”

Her mouth hung open. “What?”

Mauve adjusted the glasses on his beak-like nose. “I said, I’m not going to your stupid office party. I’m staying here.”

She gaped at him. “What on earth is going on?”

“It’s you, Cassandra,” he told her coldly. “When we first got into our detective work, it was sort of like a game, almost fun. Now, we’ve ruined two people’s lives—and just look at you, you’re glowing!”

Cassandra blinked, flustered. “Well, of course I am, Mauve. This was a big achievement, a huge score.”

“And here’s another thing,” he said, pulling himself up and standing straighter. Cassandra noticed his fists were clenched at his sides. “I didn’t really appreciate the way you talked to me at the coffee shop downtown. The way you
yelled
at me in front of other people. Nobody deserves that from you, Cassandra, not even Mauve.”

Cassandra was speechless—and somehow desperately attracted. She’d never seen Mauve exhibit such chutzpa! “Okay, all right,” she said quickly. “I’m really sorry about that, but Mauve, it’s getting late. Please run along and change now.”

He stuck out his bottom lip like an impudent child. “No.”

“No?” Cassandra set her hands on her hips in utter disbelief, then grated between clenched teeth, “Nobody says ‘no’ to me, Mauve.”

“I’m afraid I just did,” he said, and then he slammed the door shut.

Chapter Thirty

Morgan excused herself from the dining room table, where she was having Christmas dinner with Owen’s family. His brother and his brother’s wife were hosting and they had two reasonably well-behaved little kids. Owen’s brother had also included some couple friends from his office, and everyone was chatting amiably. Snowed streaked outside the enormous living room windows, and in the distance Morgan caught a glimpse of the Manhattan skyline. She was supposedly on the way to powder her nose, but she’d secretly planned to text Jill. Morgan absolutely couldn’t stand this anymore. She and Jill had been work colleagues and friends for more than five years. Morgan was an only child and Jill was the closest thing to a sister she had. But since their conversation in that café, Morgan had felt she’d been abandoned by Jill. She’d tried calling her before coming to New York and had texted repeatedly from the airport. It was obvious that Jill didn’t want to talk to her. But, come on, today was Christmas.

Morgan had made a huge mistake and she was prepared to admit that. She’d talked the whole thing over with Owen and he’d been nothing but supportive. She couldn’t believe Owen still cared for her after knowing all she’d done, but somehow he did. Perhaps because he understood the pressures of the business too. It was he who’d urged her to continue trying and to not give up on Jill.
She’ll come around, you’ll see
,
he’d told her with a kiss under the mistletoe. He also promised to help place the book, should Jill decide she still wanted to release it. The manuscript was already completed, and Owen believed the concept was sound. Perhaps there was a way to spin all this publicity around to the positive?

Morgan stepped into the tastefully appointed half-bath and quietly shut the door. “Come on, Jill. Come on…” she begged, extracting her cell from her purse and starting to type.

Jill was just leaving dinner with her grandpa at Green Meadows when she heard her cell buzz. She looked down at the screen, seeing it was yet another text from Morgan. It hadn’t been a good day with her grandfather. He’d appeared more confused than ever. Jill’s heart was breaking on so many counts, she wasn’t sure she could deal with Morgan on top of that. Then again, in her heart and in her soul, Jill desperately missed her best friend. Her best woman friend. Her
husband
best friend was no longer in the picture. Tears welled in her eyes and Jill sat there paralyzed, unable to start her car. The sky was a gloomy gray and she felt just as miserable inside as it was outdoors.
 

Her cell buzzed again and Jill decided she might as well call Morgan back and get this over with. Otherwise, Morgan was just going to keep texting and calling for goodness knows how long. She lifted her cell and speed-dialed Morgan’s number. Morgan immediately took the call. “I’m so glad that you answered,” Morgan breathed. For some reason it sounded like she was whispering.

“I saw you’ve been trying to reach me.” There was emotion in Jill’s voice, but she tried to mask it.

“Oh, Jill. Hon, listen to me. I’m so sorry about that last conversation we had. I was an ass to say that thing about plausible deniability. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Jill’s pulse pounded as she held the phone to her ear.

“You don’t have to say anything yet,” Morgan went on. “Just please hear me out. Maybe the fake marriage was a mistake, but the book that came out of it wasn’t. Jill, it’s absolutely perfect. Owen agrees.”

“Owen?”

“He read the manuscript and believes the project still has potential.”

“But how can it?”

“By changing the title,” Morgan said. “To
Married Love: Lessons Learned.
”

Jill mulled this over as tears burned down her cheeks.
 

“We can clean it up a little, make it about more than just your relationship with Hunter. I know that you have notes from many other consultations with couples.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So we weave those in, mix in other vignettes. Make things more general, less personal.”

Jill didn’t see how a book like that could remain anything but personal to her, not after what she’d been through with Hunter. “And you…and Owen think that would work?”

“The recipe formula is still good, and the ingredients are excellent. Apart from a few minor tweaks, all the manuscript might need is an epilogue.”

“An epilogue,” Jill repeated thoughtfully. “What about?”

“I’ll leave that up to you,” Morgan said. “You’re the writer.”

Over at Susan’s mother’s house, Brad anxiously rose from the sofa where he was sitting beside Susan and dropped down on one knee. Susan stared at him in surprise. “Brad, what are you doing?” They’d had Christmas dinner with her mom, who was now brewing them a pot of tea. Susan’s two older brothers had stayed in New York for the holiday, so it was just the three of them.
 

Brad took her hand. “Susan, I know you think I didn’t get you anything for Christmas…”

“Nonsense. You told me we’d exchange gifts later.”

“Right, that’s right. But now I’ve changed my mind.”

She screwed up her face, like he was acting funny. Which he was, ha-ha! What a fool. He’d better hurry up and get this done before he mucked it up. Brad took his free hand and reached into his pocket, his fingers shaking. “What I mean is… I couldn’t wait! Here, this is for you!” He fumbled with the small box and popped it open, exposing a nicely cut diamond ring. At least, he hoped it was high quality. He’d paid a small fortune for it. He’d thought she might thank him, or jump up and down on her feet with a weepy look saying
yay
! Instead, Susan just blinked and said, “Oh.”