The Valentine: The Wedding Pact #4 (3 page)

”I know. I know she loves me. I love her too. But sometimes I ask myself if love is enough.”

“You’re asking the wrong damn person, bro.”

M
elissa stood in the doorway
, worry wrinkling her brow. “Blair, are you okay?”

Blair stared at the phone in her hand.
Call him back. Call him back and tell him you don’t want him to move back to San Diego
.

“Blair?”

She sucked in a breath and pushed it out, forcing herself to compartmentalize her situation to the back of her mind. She had a settlement to work through. Business came before personal life.

But how could she continue on as though nothing had just happened? She reexamined the conversation, coming to the conclusion that she had overreacted. That’s right. Blair Hansen-Lowry—the woman known for her nerves of steel—had overreacted.

“Is Garrett okay?” Melissa asked.

“What?” Blair shook off her daze. “Yeah. His flight was delayed. Something about a snow storm in Chicago.”

“All sorts of flights are being canceled. Good thing the storm isn’t hitting us.”

“Yeah,” Blair said absently.

“But he should be home in time to celebrate your first Valentine’s Day together since you married.”

“You know we don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day.” She knew she sounded more terse than she intended. She rubbed her temple. “Melissa. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Melissa walked into her office. “You know what I think?”

Blair shook her head. “What?”

“I think you could use a lunch with Megan. Want me to see if she’s available? Around one-thirty?”

Ordinarily Blair would be pissed if anyone suggested that she needed to talk to someone, but Melissa knew her well, having figured her out soon after she’d started working as Blair’s assistant. And Blair really needed to have an honest heart-to-heart with one of her two best friends. “She might have plans.”

“There’s only one way to find out. You go in there and deal with Allison DeSanto, and I’ll call Megan. I’ll text you if I get something set up.”

“Thanks.” She stood and took another deep breath and exhaled, then smoothed her skirt. She needed to get her shit together.

Allison was in the conference room, raging about the temperature of the water in her glass.

And that was about all that Blair was going to take from her today. Blair placed her hands on the conference room table and leaned forward, staring her client in the eye. “Ms. DeSanto, do you really feel so entitled that you are actually complaining that the temperature of your water is off by two degrees?”

She lifted her chin. “Hardly. I said it was off by
ten
degrees.”

Blair held her gaze, ready for a staring contest if necessary. “You
do
realize there are villages in Africa that have no running water? That children are forced to walk
miles
each way—
every day
—to get buckets of water and haul them back to their homes?”

She shook her head. “That doesn’t happen anymore.”

“It most certainly does.” Blair stood up and closed the door, then sat in the chair next to her client. “Allison, why are you so wrapped up in this petty shit? Why? Who cares who gets the toaster?”

Pain flickered in the woman’s eyes before she lifted her shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s robin’s egg blue and toasts four slices.”

“You can get another one just like it at the Target down the street. Why are you doing this?”

The woman didn’t answer.

“When you came to me, you told me you were sure Marco had cheated on you, though you had no proof. Yet when I suggested a private investigator, you refused. Why?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t see the point.”

“So you’re doing this to make him pay for cheating when you’re not even sure he did?”

Tears filled her eyes.

“What’s the real reason you want to get divorced?”

“Why does anyone get divorced?”

Why, indeed. Blair, however, was not about to tackle this question, not right now, after her argument with Garrett. Safer to focus on Allison DeSanto’s crippled marriage.

Blair was usually good at weeding through the bullshit and figuring out the underlying reasons a woman was filing for divorce, but every time she tried to figure out what made Allison tick, she hit a wall. Surely Allison couldn’t be
that
shallow. Then again, her parents had taught her to enjoy all the finer things in life. They had doted on her every moment of her life and she had never lived without them.

Maybe Allison
was
that shallow. “I’m not asking why divorce happens. I’m asking why
you
want a divorce, Allison.”

Anger filled Allison’s eyes. “It shouldn’t matter to you why I’m getting divorced, only that I am. Can’t you handle the simple job of dividing my assets? I thought you were supposed to be good.”

Blair’s back stiffened. “I charge by the hour, Ms. DeSanto, so if you want to drag this thing on forever, be my guest. But believe it or not, there are women out there with real issues. After thirty years of marriage, their husbands have left them for newer versions and want to leave these women absolutely nothing. Or you might have a woman with two kids whose husband beat her, yet he’s put everything in his own name, leaving her with absolutely no money or resources to escape.”

Allison looked straight ahead, her chin quivering.

Blair tapped her nail on the table, studying her client. “I’ll continue this settlement meeting, but I need to know what you want.”

“I want everything.”

“Given that there’s no proof he cheated on you or harmed you in any way, that’s not realistic or fair to him. You’ll need to be more specific about the things you want.”

“I want the house.”

“Then you have to give up an amount of assets equal to his half of the house, and frankly, I’m not sure there are enough assets to cover it.”

“Then make it happen.”

Blair groaned. This was going to be a long day.

She stood and opened the door, then walked into the client lounge. “I think we’re ready to continue.”

“Is she willing to negotiate with my client?” Dane asked.

Marco crossed his arms in a show of nonchalance, though his face betrayed his anxiety, and Dane flashed him an arrogant smile, signaling his premature confidence.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

But an hour later, they’d made little progress.

As Allison hemmed and hawed over who got the dining room furniture—piece by piece, down to the furniture polish—Blair looked out the glass conference room wall and was relieved to discover her friend Megan standing by the door. Megan gave her a wave, then gestured toward Blair’s office.

Blair nodded and looked at her phone. “It’s one o’clock. If we want to continue with this, I think we should take a lunch break.”

Dane rolled his shoulders and sighed. “I was hoping to wrap this up sooner rather than later.”

Blair glanced at her petulant client. “I think most of us were.”

Allison scrunched up her nose. “I think we should keep going.”

“Some of us actually like to eat,” Marco said with a bitter tone. “I might even go out for a heaping plate of spaghetti.”

Allison put her hand on the table and narrowed her eyes at her husband. “What is
that
supposed to mean?”

“We never ate carbs when we were together. I’ve been eating them every day since the day I left.”

Allison stood and glared down at him. “I never told you that you couldn’t eat carbs, Marco!
I
was the one who couldn’t eat carbs!”

He stood and shouted, “I never said you couldn’t eat carbs! What made you think you couldn’t eat them?”

“Because they put five pounds on my hips! Last summer you told me those white shorts made me look hippy.” She shook her head, her face turning red. “You can go eat all the spaghetti in Italy for all I care.” Then she stomped toward the door.

“Two o’clock?” Blair asked Dane.

He gave a sharp nod, then looked up at his client for acknowledgment, but Marco’s gaze followed Allison down the hall.

“Did you really tell her that her shorts made her look hippy?” Blair asked before she could stop herself. Talk about unprofessional.

“Yeah…I guess.” He looked confused. “But she’d asked.”

Blair tried to stifle her groan. Men.

She hurried down the hall and found Allison by the exit. She glanced back at Blair with a tear-streaked face.

“We’ll start again at two,” Blair said, then lowered her voice. “Did he talk to you like that throughout your marriage?”

Allison looked confused. “Like what?”

“Did he make references to your weight?”

Allison’s chin quivered. “I don’t know, Blair. I don’t know. Leave me alone.”

She spun around and walked toward the staircase, bypassing the elevator.

Maybe there was more to this divorce than Blair realized.

She passed Dane and his client on their way out, then found Megan sitting on the edge of Melissa’s desk.

“Blair.” Megan stood and offered her a bright smile. “We haven’t seen each other since we were in New York for Libby’s photography exhibit, yet we only live like five miles apart. We need to see each other more often.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Well, I’m here now, and I’m starving. Where are we eating?”

Blair gestured toward Megan’s stomach. “You’re the one who’s pregnant. Are you craving anything?”

It was still hard for Blair to think of her practically lifelong friend as pregnant—either of her friends. They’d both announced their pregnancies at Libby’s exhibit weeks before.

Megan’s eyes lit up. “Bacon cheeseburgers.”

“Your baby’s into junk food? Already? I thought they saved that for the teen years.”

Megan laughed. “Don’t judge. Just feed me.”

“There’s a place around the corner that will take care of your craving.” Blair shot a glance to Melissa. “Would you like to come?”

“We’d love to have you,” Megan said.

Melissa smiled. “Thanks for the invite, but I have too much work to do. I’d love a rain check, though.”

Blair started to protest, but Melissa shook her head. “You two go. You need this.”

Megan gave Melissa a wave as she and Blair walked out of her office and toward the hallway.

“So other than your cravings for high-fat red meat, how else are you feeling?” Blair asked, grinning.

“Remarkably good. No morning sickness at all.”

“I hear the same can’t be said for Libby,” Blair said. “I called her a few nights ago, and Noah said she couldn’t even come to the phone.”

Megan grimaced. “She’s been really sick. Noah had to take her to the hospital for dehydration.”

Blair stopped in front of the elevator and hit the down button, worry washing over her. “Is she okay? Why didn’t she tell me?”

“If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t tell me either. Josh found out about it when he and Noah were talking about some business project in Seattle. It’s pretty bad when you find out your best friend had to go to the ER from your husband, who found out after he talked to his brother. These guys are notorious for withholding information, but I hardly expected it from Libby.”

“Why wouldn’t she tell you?” Blair asked. “You two are going through this pregnancy together, and besides, you’re sisters-in-law now.”

“Libby’s embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?
Why?
”

“She’s worried she’s already failing at motherhood.”

“
Already?
” Blair asked in disbelief. “She’s barely pregnant, and besides, she’s going to be an
amazing
mother.”

“You know Libby,” Megan said as the elevator doors opened, and the two women stepped inside. “She’s full of insecurities when it comes to her parents. She’s terrified she’ll fail because of her role models—or lack thereof, I should say.”

“That’s ridiculous. Libby is one of the most giving people I know, and giving’s like the core of motherhood, right? Which is why I’ll never be a mother. I can’t even give Garrett what he needs.”

Megan’s eyes widened. “Are you and Garrett having problems?”

“No.” Blair paused. “I don’t know.”

Megan was surprisingly quiet during the short walk to the restaurant. When the waitress came to take their drink order, Megan ordered her bacon cheeseburger and a water, then turned to Blair. “You ready to order?”

Blair laughed. “I haven’t even had a chance to look at the menu yet.”

“How hard can it be? You always order a salad.”

She
did
always order a salad. Was it because she was like Allison, worried that Garrett wouldn’t love her if she gained weight?

No, Garrett wasn’t like that. He loved her, and his love wasn’t dependent on her hip size.

“That’s an awful lot of thinking over a salad,” the waitress said.

To hell with it. “Give me a cheeseburger too.”

Megan laughed in surprise.

“And we’ll both take French fries,” Blair added. “And a side order of onion rings.”

The waitress walked away, and Megan covered Blair’s hand with her own. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you have plans tonight for Valentine’s Day?”

Blair laughed, but it was hollow. “We don’t do Valentine’s Day, remember? It’s a commercial holiday.”

“Then why do you sound irritated that you don’t have plans?”

Blair rested her face in her hands. “I don’t know. That’s what has me screwed up. I
hate
Valentine’s Day, but I want Garrett to want to do something anyway. How stupid is that?”

“While I agree it’s a commercial holiday, it is a day to show the person you love how much you care about them. There’s nothing wrong with wanting Garrett to show you that he loves you.”

Blair shook her head. “Garrett isn’t the problem.
I’m
the problem.”

“What does
that
mean?”

“I can’t give him what he wants.”

“I don’t believe that. That man loves you. Look at everything he did to stop your wedding to Neil.
You
are what he wants.”

Blair leaned closer. “He told me his old boss offered him a lot more money to return to San Diego.”

Megan held her gaze for several seconds. “Does he want to go back to San Diego?”

“He says he doesn’t…”

“You don’t believe him?”