Newlywed Games (13 page)

His smile faded to uncertainty. “Of course.”

“I’m really going to do it this time.”

He bent his head forward slightly. “Okay. Let’s go.”

She didn’t move. “I mean, she looked really good this morning, full of energy. I think she’s ready to hear the truth.”

Bruce leaned closer. “But are you ready to tell it?”

She could smell his spicy cologne.
Stay focused, Meghann.
She took a deep breath to clear her mind. It was the wrong thing to do. She only succeeded in getting a stronger whiff of his cologne. “Yes, of course I am. That’s what this is all about. I wouldn’t be asking you to help me if I wasn’t ready.”

“Okay then.” He cocked his head to one side.

“Okay then, what?”

“Are you just going to stand around talking about it, or are you going to do it?” An easy smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m going.” But she didn’t. She just stood there, staring up at him, motionless. It was just that her feet didn’t seem to want to move.

He put his hands on her shoulders, turned her around, and gave her a little push. He followed close behind to the living room where her mother sat.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Mom?” Her stomach flipped end over end. She was finally going to put things right.

“Sure, honey.” Her mother’s gaze flickered from Meghann to Bruce and back again. Curiosity—and then concern—etched her features.

“Well, Mom—” she twisted her hands in her lap—“I’m not sure where to start.”

“The beginning is usually best.” Her mother’s tone was quiet, but calm.

I was born in—no, that’s too far back. It started when—no, no. Where exactly did this story begin?

“Mom, you remember back just before Christmas.” This was embarrassing. She should have done it without Bruce. She took a slow, deep breath. “…   when I first told you about Bruce?”

Her mother looked worried. “Yes, dear, I remember. I was so happy for you. For both of you.” Her mom smiled up at Bruce, then leaned forward with her coffee mug outstretched, to set it on the table in front of her.

Meg nodded and started to speak again, but just then the bottom of her mother’s mug caught on the edge of the coffee table. A startled “Oh!” escaped her mother as half the dark brown liquid erupted from the mug, splashing on the table, the expensive leather of the couch, and the equally expensive rug.

“Oh no!” Meg jumped up, looking at Bruce. Bad enough she was ruining his month with these shenanigans, did she have to be responsible for ruining his apartment as well?

Her mother looked up at them, her eyes wide with distress. “I am such a clumsy old fool. I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bruce reassured her.

“I’ll go get something to clean that up.” Meghann ran to the kitchen and seized several yards of paper towels. She hurried back into the room and knelt down, doing her best to mop up the mess. But the tremor in her hands
made the task more difficult than it should be.

This wasn’t turning out right at all! She should have been almost finished with her tale of woe by now, almost free from this whole mess.

“I’m not normally so ungainly,” her mom said as she reached for a paper towel. “Let me help.”

“No, Mom. You just sit back on the couch. I’ll get it.”

“It’s my mess.”

“I said no!” Meg’s words came out angry, and she hung her head. She took a moment to calm herself, then looked back up at her mother. “Just take it easy and rest.”

“Meghann Rachel Livingston! I’m not an invalid. I am perfectly capable of cleaning up a little spill.” Her mother hadn’t spoken to her in that firm tone in years.

“You’re supposed to rest. Doctor’s orders.”

“You act as though I have one foot in the grave.”

Her mother’s flip remark stirred her turbulent emotions even more. “Must I remind you that a little more than a month ago you
had?
You almost died.” Her voice began to shake. “The doctor said you might not—” She swallowed hard. “They don’t even know what was really wrong with you. It could happen again at any time.”

The image of her mother on the precipice of death, balanced precariously, ready at any moment to fall in, terrified her. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re all I have.” She grabbed up the wad of paper towels and rushed back to the kitchen.

Why couldn’t things work out once in a while? Why couldn’t she get the truth out? And how long would it be before she was able to stop worrying about
and being afraid for her mother?

She threw the mass of soggy towels into the sink with more force than she’d intended, watching with dismay when coffee splattered all over the counter.

“What a mess!”

“Are you okay?” Bruce said from behind her.

She spun around and nodded her head.
Another lie.

He studied her, and the understanding in his gaze made Meghann want to weep. “Your mom is stronger than you think.”

Meghann shook her head.

“I was ready. I really was. You saw that I was starting to tell her.”

He nodded. “I saw that, yes. And I saw your concern for your mother as well.”

She rubbed a hand over her aching temples. “I just wish I could get it out, get it over with. She needs to know.” She dropped her hand and met his gaze. “You deserve to be released from this whole, sorry affair.”

The smile that tugged at his lips, the odd longing she saw in his eyes, warmed her, even as they broke through her defenses. She felt a tear sneak down her cheek, and he reached out to take hold of her arms and pull her toward him. She was too weary to resist. She let him fold her against his chest, resting there in silence.

When he spoke, his voice was tender, almost a murmur, “Meg, don’t worry about me. I’m fine. Just relax. When the time is right, you’ll know it. And the time will be right. You’ll see.”

She hoped so. Because she didn’t think she could take much more.

Gayle went in her room and closed the door. She stared down at her hands and closed them into tight fists to stop their uncontrollable movement, then looked up at her reflection in the mirror. She had tried so hard to keep the trembling in her hands from Meg. The doctor said the shaking in her hands could worsen over time. But she didn’t want Meg to know. She didn’t want to taint her happiness with having her worry over her mother.

No, there was no reason to tell Meg what was happening. She had enough to deal with. Though neither Meg nor Bruce had said so, she could tell things weren’t right. The last thing she wanted to do was add to Meg’s struggles. She couldn’t do much about Meg’s marriage, but she could protect her daughter from worrying about her health.

Later that evening after dinner, Meg was relieved to see that her mother’s coloring was almost back to what it had been before her illness. She seemed cheerful and talkative—both good signs.

Bruce, on the other hand, was acting decidedly odd. His scrutiny of Meg had not wavered since she got back from playing with Lucky earlier. He’d been watching her, studying her. She wasn’t sure she liked the extra attention.

He crooked his finger at her and walked through the French doors onto the balcony without so much as a backward glance to see if she was in pursuit. Of course she would follow, and it irked her that he knew. Maybe she would find out what was on his mind.

Bruce was leaning against the railing, looking out at
the city lights. His sharp and confident profile was dark against the moonlight. The cool night air wrapped around her, but surprisingly Meghann didn’t shiver. She moved to the rail a few feet away from where he stood. He shook his head but didn’t turn to her. Did he know she was there? She was about to clear her throat to announce her presence when he spoke.

“Your mom was right,” he said, then turned to her.

“Right about what?”

“You talk as if you’re in love, at least when I’m not around, but you don’t act it. You say the right things, but you don’t do them.”

Meg stared at him. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Did you ever hear the old saying, ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” She nodded. “Honey, if your actions are saying anything it’s, ‘he’s got the plague.’ It’s as if you are trying to stay away from me.”

She followed his pointed gaze and took in the distance she had unconsciously put between them. She could just imagine his reaction if she explained that it was just too hard to think straight when he was so near. “What am I supposed to do, jump in your lap?”

“It wouldn’t hurt.”

Meghann’s mouth fell open—and when he laughed, she clamped it shut. He didn’t really expect her to…to sit on his lap. She was having a hard enough time keeping what was real and what was not straight in her own head. “You can’t really expect me to…I mean, I couldn’t…Mr. Halloway—”

“That’s it!” He slapped his palm to his forehead. “I’ve been racking my brain to figure it out.” He
removed his hand from his head and pointed at her. “You called me Mr. Halloway.”

She could see by his expression that he had received some great revelation that she was not privy to, which pushed her beyond confusion. “Of course I called you Mr. Halloway. That’s your name.”
Isn’t it?

“Every time you talk to me you sound like you are addressing your boss.”

“I am.”

“No. I’m supposed to be your husband, whom you love and adore. Not someone you are afraid to ask for a raise.”

Love and adore?
She swallowed hard. Already her feelings for him had doubled, no quadrupled. She had to keep her distance or give away her feelings.

She latched on to the one safe thing he had said. “I’m not afraid to ask for a raise.”

He raised his eyebrows in challenge and folded his arms across his chest. “Then ask.”

“May I have a raise?” She tossed the question out without hesitation. Of course he’d say no.

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much of a raise do you want?”

He was being ridiculous. Well, fine, she could be ridiculous, too. “A hundred dollars.” She smiled. “A week.”

“Why do you think you deserve a hundred-dollar-a-week raise?”

Enough was enough. “I suppose I don’t, so let’s drop it.”

“Let’s not. I’m interested in what you think your assets are.”

Assets?

He must have realized how that sounded and quickly added, “In regard to the hotel, that is.”

She licked her lips and took a breath. “I’ve been working there for three years and am due for a raise. I’m rarely sick and never late. I’ve put in a lot of extra hours working on the masquerade ball and…”

I think I’m falling in love with you.

“And.” he prodded.

She swallowed hard around the sudden lump in her throat. “I think…”

He held her gaze, and something flickered deep in the depths of his eyes. He took a step toward her. “You think…?”

“I think I’m…”

Another step closer. Now she could feel his breath on her face. Her throat went dry, her head was spinning.
Oh, help
…

“You think you’re.?” His hand slid along the railing, coming to rest beside her arm. She could feel the warmth of his skin where it rested against her.

Think, Meg! For the love of Pete, think of
something
to say.
“I think I’m…worth more! Yes, I’m worth more than I’m getting paid.” She shook her head and blinked. “Worth far more…than I’m getting now—getting paid now.”

His easy smile returned. “Done.”

Meghann went slack jawed. “You can’t be serious.”

He gave her a nod. “I agree with your reasoning.
You are a valuable employee. You have just successfully negotiated a raise, one of the hardest things for an employee to do. Now can you relax around me?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Mr. Phenton will never approve it.”

“I’ll talk to George.”

“No, don’t!”

He raised his eyebrows again.

“You’ve already gotten me all this time off with pay. I don’t want you to get in trouble on my account.”

“I can get around George Phenton.”

“Oh, please, Mr. Halloway, don’t.” She didn’t want him to get fired. “You have done so much for me.” She noticed he was shaking his head but continued anyway. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, really I do.” She couldn’t stand it any longer. “Why are you shaking your head? Don’t you believe me?” She
was
a known liar to him, so why should he believe her?

“You called me Mr. Halloway again.”

Meghann let out a heavy sigh. “Well, that’s who you are. At least, that’s how I think of you.”
How I have to think of you if I’m going to survive this whole thing!
“I know you are supposed to be my husband.” She felt a little twinge inside when she said
my husband.
He would make a wonderful husband. “But you’re not.”

The words came out flat and depressed, and she hoped he didn’t notice. Thankfully, he just nodded his head.

“True enough, but you can’t keep
treating
me like your boss when we’re with your mom. You’re stiff and formal. You either have to fess up now or play this to the
end and make it look real. I’m just trying to help you.”

But he
was
her boss. “What exactly did my mom say to you?”

“She thinks you rushed into this marriage without being in love. That you did it for her.”

“I
did
do it for her! Not that I really
did
anything. I mean, we’re not married, right? So I didn’t actually
do
anything.”

Except lie, Meghann. Big time.

She let out a frustrated huff. “But
whatever
it is I did, I did for her.” She shook her head.

“And you act like it. Your mother thinks this is a one-sided relationship—”

“It’s not any kind of relationship at all!”

His expression was patient. “I know that, and you know that, but for now, you mother doesn’t know that. And I’m sure you don’t want your mother to feel guilty for pressuring you to marry someone you didn’t love. You care for her too much for that. I think you would probably give up everything for her.” The last statement was said with compassion and his look was tender. “Think back to the first time you were in love.”