The Family You Choose (26 page)

He didn’t say anything for a moment. "So what
does that mean?"

"I don’t know."

"What if you had to choose?"

She looked up, incredulous. "Why, are you
asking me to choose?"

"I’m not. What if they did?"

"I already have, haven’t I?" she said, and
for the first time she was filled with shame. "I haven’t seen
Jessie—I can’t see Jessie—but I’ve known that if she ever found out
about this she’d never forgive me. And Emily...Mitch would never
let her come near me again if they knew that we were together."

"Do you believe I’ve changed?"

"Yes, but I can’t convince anyone else of
that. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them how."

"I know. And I’m sorry for that." He stroked
her hair. "Do you really think you can live without them?"

"I don’t want to," she said miserably, "but
I...love you. And you make me happy." She kissed him. "And I don’t
want you to be my secret either."

"I want you to marry me."

"What?!?" She looked at him to see if he
wanted to correct his statement.

"I want you to marry me," he repeated.

"You know, it actually is socially acceptable
these days for people to live together and even share a bed without
the benefit of marriage."

He shrugged. "But I don't want to do things
that way. I want to be married."

"Marriage?" she laughed. "It’s been a week,
give or take a few days. The sex is-"

"Incredible."

"If you say so. Still not much of a
judge."

"We’ll have to fix that."

"But everything else feels like it needs a
little bit more ironing out. We’ve got years of damage to
undo."

"You believe that I love you?"

"Yes."

"You believe that I’ve changed?"

"Yes."

"And you’re happy with me?"

"Yes."

"Do you think someone else can make you
happier?"

"No."

"Then marry me."

"It’s not that simple."

"It shouldn’t be any harder."

"What’s the rush?"

"I don’t want to lose you."

"I’m supposed to trust you, but you don’t
have to trust me?"

"Are you still waiting for Alex?"

"Where the Hell did that come from?"

"He’s the only other person you loved."

"Do you really not get the difference?"

"I do," he conceded. "But then we should, if
there’s no one else."

She looked away. "I don’t want Alex."

"But...?"

"You want everyone to know? Really? Even
him?"

"I think he already knows."

"He knows...whatever you told him last week,
unless you decided to get in his face and gloat a little bit
more."

"No. One concussion per week is enough."

"Then he doesn’t know, really, about us."

"What are you afraid of?"

"You gave Alex a lot of opportunities to
practice strong-arming people to get what he wants." She was quiet
again.

"What is it?"

"Lucy Bartolome." She looked up and shook her
head. "He even got to her, Michael." She bit her lip. "Don’t you
see? If we do...he knows what you’ve done, alright? He silenced
people—he can un-silence them. How pissed do you think Jessie and
Mitch and Emily are going to be? How long will it take them? He’s
not going to protect you anymore." Her face hardened. "If I married
you...we might as well honeymoon in prison."

"Do you really think Emily and Jessie would
do that, if you’re happy with me?"

"Maybe not, but I can’t vouch for Mitch."

"Mitch loves his wife," Michael said
confidently. "He won’t do anything."

"Well, maybe you don’t want to walk home by
yourself from now on."

"I’m safe."

"What about that car accident?"

Michael gasped. "How did you know about
that?"

"I guessed, believe it or not. I understand
there was a very nice settlement buying someone’s silence. What if
that person got to keep the money and turn you in? That might be
the deal of the century."

Michael shook his head. "No. Don’t worry
about Alex. He’s not even as clean as he looks, and he knows I
know."

"That’s your leverage to keep your job, maybe
even get your money?"

"I can handle Alex," Michael said calmly.
"He’s not a threat." He put his forehead next to hers. "So you’re
going to have to come up with a better reason not to marry me."

She smiled. She felt like she was in a bubble
of happiness with him. "Well, then I want a prenup."

"A prenup?" he repeated, amused. "And what
goes into that, exactly?"

"You don’t travel too much."

"I think that can be arranged."

"You’re home by eight."

"Okay."

"You make love to me every night."

"Do I get credit if I put out more?"

"No other people."

"Not even an issue."

"No anti-Semitic crap; ever, no matter where
you are."

"I never meant any of that…"

"I mean it."

"Done."

"No drugs."

"Fine."

"Easy on the alcohol."

"Now you’re pushing it."

"Liver failure sounds really annoying."

"Okay." He kissed her.

"Well?" she said. "Don’t you have any
conditions for me?"

"Nope." He took her hand. "I don’t want to
change one thing about you."

They kissed in the cold, then Michael led her
back to the hotel. "So do you want a big wedding, or a small one?"
she asked.

"Most elopements are pretty small."

"Wha—"

"Well, yeah. When did you think I wanted to
get married?"

"Three months is usually the minimum amount
of time required."

"For what? A hall? A semi-okay caterer?"

"The dress. The flowers. The cake."

"How about I buy you a dress and some flowers
and we get a slice of cake?"

"What about guests?"

"Zainab and Richard." He looked up as if he
were making a calculation. "Yeah, that would really be it.
Unfortunately, they can’t come now. Is there anyone else you’d like
to invite?"

"You mean that you haven’t alienated
yet?"

"Whatever."

They crossed the street while she thought.
There was her family in Israel, but didn’t feel right taking them
away from her grandfather. "Alright," she said reluctantly.
"Elopement it is. I guess we can get everything together by
tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Well, it’s Sunday. All the official
buildings are closed."

Michael laughed. "You’re joking, right?
You’ve never heard of Las Vegas?"

She froze. "Eww! I’m not getting married in
Vegas with Elvis or some guy in a red polyester suit reading from a
cue card! Go find another excuse to gamble."

"They do everything for you," Michael said
quickly. "I think we could be in and out in an hour."

"McWedding, great," Miranda muttered. "And
how do you know so much about this anyway?"

"I might have looked it up this week."

She giggled, then felt her lip tremble. "Well
then...if you want to get married in Vegas, we can get married in
Vegas."

He pulled her into another kiss. She wished
they could stay here forever, no matter how cold. Not being lonely
was such a good thing.

"Magnolia?" Alex said when Tatiana finally
revealed where she lived. "Where the Hell is that?"

"It is only the most beautiful village in
Massachusetts."

"Massachusetts has villages? Still?"

Tatiana tweaked Alex’s nose. "All you
Bostonians are the same."

"That’s right, and you’ll be one soon
enough."

"Well, I’m not going to be that grand, and I
don’t care how big your house is."

"Our house," Alex said, taking her hand. "Our
house."

Alex didn’t make a fuss about Tatiana not
coming to stay with him as the house wasn't ready yet. She had a
part-time job at home, and she needed a little time to get that in
order. He admired her independence, even if it annoyed him.
However, he insisted on coming to the train station the next week
to pick her up.

North Station was as crowded as ever. Alex
had trouble making his way to the platform. The train had already
been in the station for five minutes when he finally saw her. But
she wasn’t alone. She was talking to Stephen.

It was stupid to be jealous. He knew that
even then. They weren’t touching each other; they were only just
close enough so that they could hear each other through the crowd.
But just knowing that Stephen was within two hundred feet of her
was enough to make Alex forget all reason.

He didn’t even think about it. He walked
right over and punched Stephen in the face. Stephen was good in a
fight, but he was as susceptible to gravity as anyone; more so,
maybe, because he was so big. Tatiana screamed then knelt down next
to Stephen. Stephen blinked shaking his head. People crowded
around. "I’ll stay out of your life if you stay out of mine!" Alex
spat. "Don’t ever let me see you near her again!"

Tatiana stood up and rounded on Alex. "You
stupid idiot!" she shouted, tears coming to her eyes. "What the
Hell is wrong with you?"

A rage that he could not explain poured out
of him. "You are mine!" he bellowed, so loudly that people around
him backed away. "You do not belong with him or to him. You belong
to me. You are mine, not his." He shook with anger. "You’d still
rather be his mistress than my wife?"

"Go to Hell!" she shouted back. She turned to
Stephen and helped him stand up, then helped him walk to a bench.
Alex stood, unable to move, as she watched him care for him.
Finally he shook his head. "To hell with the both of you," he said
under his breath, then turned and walked out of the station.

Michael and Miranda got on a plane to Vegas
by one. By seven EST, four west coast time, they had arrived. They
bickered about what style—he wanted kitsch, but she wanted bare
bones, ultra simple. It took them half an hour, but Miranda won
when she threatened to turn around and go home. She didn’t want to
buy a dress for Vegas, but Michael insisted. She picked out
something reminiscent of what Caroline Bessette-Kennedy wore to her
wedding. She blushed when she saw Michael, who was speechless again
when he saw her in it. Good speechless.

Neither of them remembered what the vows
were. They just remembered the kiss. Everything before had been a
dream. This felt real. And she wasn’t afraid.

They’d agreed to get flowers and a cake when
they got back to Boston; she didn’t want him to miss any work. She
did, however, agree to use the bridal suite for a few hours.

They were on a plane back to Boston by eight
o’clock west coast time, eleven o’clock Eastern Time. He kissed her
fingers. "We didn’t get you a ring," he said once they were
airborne. "That is something else we’ll have to get."

"I don’t need a ring," she said as she leaned
her head on his shoulder.

"Well, I think you do," he whined. "It’s all
part of telling everyone."

"Just sleep, baby," she said. "You need your
strength for work."

"I need my strength for other things."

They got home at five in the morning. He
tossed the bags through the door, and carried her over the
threshold. "Welcome home, Mrs. Abbot."

"Miranda Harel Abbot," she said quietly. "I
think I like the way that sounds."

He put her down on the bed. She smiled and
shook her head. "It’s time to get up for work, Mr. Abbot. Don’t get
fired on your first day of wedded bliss."

"I will let you know, Mrs. Abbot, what I can
handle at work. But right now, I want to make love to my wife in
our home on the first day of our lives together."

"When you say it like that..."

She lay back on the bed after he left,
rubbing the spot where he had been. And then she smiled, happier
than ever before.

Since the age of five, Alex Sheldon had
rarely revealed his temper in public. Very few people knew that he
had one. When he did let it out, it was usually satisfied with a
slow menace which the recipient found just as threatening as a
sucker punch in the jaw. He knew that being out of control, however
much damage he might do in the short term, left him much more
vulnerable later than he wanted to be. That was why he didn’t call
Tatiana for two days after he’d punched his oldest friend in the
face. Not because he was still angry, not because he didn’t want to
talk to her, but because he wanted to be in control when he spoke
to her.

Only Tatiana did not want to talk to him.
When she answered her phone, she hung up. When he called back, she
wouldn’t pick up. And so it went for five days. That didn’t concern
Alex. He was persistent. She’d pick up before he’d stop calling,
and if she didn’t, he’d find her in Magnolia.

Finally, somebody picked up. "Tatiana, don’t
hang up."

"I’m afraid this isn’t Tatiana," an older
woman’s voice said.

"Oh, I’m sorry. I must have dialed the wrong
number."

"No, this is the correct number," the older
woman said. "But I’m afraid Tatiana isn’t here right now."

"Oh." Now Alex was confused. He didn’t like
that either. "I’m sorry. It’s important, actually. Do you know when
she’ll be back?"

"She went into town this afternoon," the
older woman said. "She took the car, so I don’t know when she’s
coming back."

"Town? Do you know—Did she say?" Perhaps Alex
hadn’t waited long enough. Perhaps he’d waited too long. Deep
breath. "I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll see if I can find
her."

He strummed his fingers on the phone after he
hung it up, trying to suppress the dark thought growing in his
mind.

At two, Miranda took a deep breath and
dialed.

"Hi Zainab, how was your weekend?"