by Marlie May
“Judges are human,” Camila said, tapping her chin. “They wouldn’t think badly of a mother who went on her honeymoon.”
Could I leave Arie for a short time?
“How about five days?” Sam asked. “A compromise from ten.” Her grin rose.
“I would never go for ten days!” I smiled and shook my head when her eyes gleamed. Damn tease. Just like Roan. “Okay. A short honeymoon.” Heaven help me now. Time alone with Roan in a surprise setting? If I knew Sam, this was going to be torture. “One thing. No heart-shaped beds.”
Sam’s grin came across a bit too sly. “You’re going to love my idea. You both have passports?” And, at our nods, “Good. Good. I’ll get on it and will fill you in when the details are solid.”
I couldn’t help noticing that Roan was silent through this exchange. That he kept eyeing the door. The shock could’ve stolen his voice, or maybe he was contemplating escape routes. Doubts assailed me, telling me he regretted his spontaneous proposal already.
“Roan?” I said. “Are you okay with this?”
With me?
His nod came easier than mine would, under the circumstances. “Everything’s fine. We’ll make this work for you and Arie.”
That wasn’t what I’d been asking, but I didn’t dare voice my true thoughts.
Sam tucked her pad of paper into her back pocket. How had this turned into a meet-up to plan a marriage? Well, help plan a marriage.
“Come to lunch with us,” Sam said. “Roan and I stopped by to go out with Mom.”
Still a bit uncertain—and a heck of a lot scared—I shook my head. “Thanks, though.”
She pouted. “Aww, but we’re gonna be a family. We’ve got to do everything together.” When I widened my eyes, she snickered. “Just kidding.”
Alarm shoved aside my unease, taking hold. Absorbing the fact that I’d soon marry Roan would be enough for one day. For a lifetime, actually.
Roan studied my face, his brows drawn together. He took my hands and led me out into the hall, away from where Sam and Camila gushed about flowers and colored streamers and which sauce for oysters. Oysters?
“You okay?” he asked.
Unable to speak without my words coming out shrill, I shrugged.
“You can change your mind. I’ll understand.” Shadows flitted through his eyes. What was he thinking? “We’ll find another way.”
We’ll. There was that “we” again. As if we’d become a team, fighting a battle of life and death, side by side. It both amazed and humbled me that he’d do this for me. To think that after all this time, with no communication for years, he was willing to surrender his short-term future because I needed him.
I wasn’t the only one giving something up with this marriage. Roan would give up time from his life for me and my daughter. It wasn’t about a vow I’d made to a husband who’d loved me and died. This was about true friendship, and Roan was delivering.
“You sure about this?” I asked, because, really, he’d seemed so uncertain.
He looked me directly in the eye. “I am. I want to help you.”
I slumped against the wall. At his desk, Larson typed on a computer, not even glancing our way. Discretion must be the prime requirement for his position.
“All of this is my fault,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair.
He gave me a lopsided grin. “As you said, it was just a kiss.”
It had been so much more than a kiss. It had become a promise.
“If you don’t like the idea,” he said. “We’ll find another way to fight them.”
“I appreciate that.” When was the last time anyone had let me make the final decision without insisting I abide by his opinion instead? Worse, without making me feel bad when I hesitated?
Too long.
Two years ago, I’d signed up for a self-employment class at the community college. When I announced my grand plan, Jason chewed me out, then went silent for days. Not because I’d had the nerve to sign up for a class, but because I hadn’t discussed it with him first. Like, by marrying him, he’d become the clearinghouse for my every action.
Roan’s smile held true.
If I someday came home and told him I was taking a class, I was convinced he’d pat me on the back and give me encouragement.
Came home. Was my home with Roan? That fact was still uncertain, but I knew one thing.
Roan was not Jason.
“I trust you.” Heat radiated through my chest at the realization I could trust him. That from now on, it wasn’t just me fighting my in-laws. It would be us.
“I need to go,” I said. No, I really needed time alone to think.
He rubbed my arms. “I’ll see you soon?’
“I’ll call you tonight. After I tell Dad the news.”
“Want support?”
I laughed. “I doubt I’ll need you there, holding my hand. He’s going to be thrilled.”
“I’ll hold your hand whenever you need it.”
I had a feeling he always would.
They went to lunch, and I went home and started ripping up that floor, carrying the rubble to the dumpster behind my building. With thoughts swirling through my mind, it was all I could do to focus on my task.
Arie and I hadn’t planned on dinner with Dad tonight, but as soon as she got home, we left for his house.
“So, Arie,” I said, glancing at her in the rearview mirror as I drove across town.
She’d been staring out the window, watching the trees pass by, but turned to look at me. “Yeah?”
“There’s something important I want to talk about.”
A tiny frown appeared on her brow, reminding me of Jason when he’d worked on his laptop. He’d been a graphic designer and had a home office.
“Roan and I are getting married.”
Arie’s frown deepened. Definitely like Jason. “So, Roan is, like, gonna to be a new dad?” Her lips curled down. “Jamal has a stepdad. He doesn’t like him.”
“You like Roan, though, don’t you?” She’d only met him a few times. Hopefully, I could smooth this transition.
“He’s fun, I guess.”
That was a relief. “Then having a stepdad could be a good thing, right?”
“What will I call him?”
Leave it to a four-year-old to dig beyond the basics. Roan and I should’ve discussed this, among other important details. “How about Roan?”
“’Cause I already have a dad. Even though he’s in heaven, with the angels.” Uncertainty flitted across her face, making my belly sink. “Will we live with Roan? ’Cause Jamal lives with his mom and stepdad.”
Another thing we should’ve discussed. Would we move in with Roan or would he move in with us? Living together would make this ruse more believable, but my apartment was tiny. Only two bedrooms.
“I think we should,” Arie said.
“You’re right.” This was about proving Arie had a complete family, so the living arrangements wouldn’t matter outside of us being under one roof. “Any other questions?”
“Does Roan like to play kickball? And do math? ’Cause I like those.”
“We can ask him.”
I should mention the honeymoon, but this was enough for my daughter to absorb already. We’d have to talk about it soon, though.
A car was parked in the drive when we arrived at Dad’s. He met us at the door with dueling eyebrows. “Did I mess up the date and forget you were coming for dinner?”
“We decided to visit.”
He held the door wide. “You’re always welcome. Come on in.”
Arie hugged Dad’s leg, then ran for the living room and turned on cartoons.
“Come on back to the kitchen,” Dad said. “Barbie made a pot of coffee.”
Though a tea drinker, a caffeine boost sounded heavenly.
“Cara, welcome,” Barbie said when I entered the room. “Coffee? Cake?”
A chocolate torte sat on the table, a few wedges missing. My belly growled, rem
inding me I’d missed lunch while working on the floor. The cookie I’d eaten this morning had long since been absorbed.
“Love some.”
Barbie poured a mug of coffee, and rich, smoky goodness filled the air. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Just cream.” I took a seat at the table as she set the mug in front of me. She cut a generous slice of cake and placed it beside my coffee. I dug in immediately, shoveling a big bite of creamy, melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate into my mouth. It dissolved on my tongue, and hints of orange sparked through my senses.
Dad cut another slice of cake and sat. We talked about the local school budget and what it might mean to our taxes.
But when a lull arrived, I jumped into the void. “I’m getting married.”
Sitting across from me, they both blinked.
“A wedding.” Recovering quickly, Barbie clapped her hands. She smiled at Dad before looking back at me. “Can I help?”
“You just moved back home.” My father gaped. “Gotta say it. That boy moves fast.”
Funny how he’d automatically assumed I was marrying Roan.
“Really, though,” I said. “It’s not what you’re thinking.” I told them about the photos and how our marriage would help my case.
“I hate that you’re marrying to keep from losing Arie.” Dad reached across the table and placed his hand over mine, stopping me from tapping my coffee spoon against my mug. “There must be something we can do about it.”
“Not much, unfortunately.” My voice choked. “Camila said this is bad enough, I could lose Arie.”
“Absolutely not!” Barbie said. “We’ll do all we can to help, of course. You just name it.”
“Thank you.” I took a sip of coffee and pulled myself together.
Anger displaced my sadness. To think I had to fight for the right to raise my own daughter. The child I’d carried in my own body, given birth to. I was the one who’d rocked her at night when she was sick. Taken her for walks. Arranged play dates. Done science experiments, craft projects, and read to her every night. While my in-laws showed up only after the bath and diapering was done to hold their sole grandchild and pose for perfect photos. They’d indulged her with expensive gifts and too many sweets. Sure, they adored her, but as grandparents. They loved her, but loving her didn’t mean they deserved to raise her.
“I’m not surprised you’re marrying Roan,” Dad said. “That boy missed you for six long years.”
As a friend.
“The wedding’s Saturday,” I said.
Dad nodded. “Makes sense. No need to give Bethany and John an inch.”
Somehow, I thought he’d express doubts about this, try to talk me out of what appeared to be a fast decision.
“Your mom’s gone.” Barbie traced her fingertip along her fork lying beside her plate. Her brown eyes flicked up to mine. “Can I help you pick out a dress?” Her face darkened. “If you’ve made other plans, I completely understand.”
“I’d love your help. What do you think?” Still a bit overwhelmed, I pressed for a smile. “Should I wear white? Or some other color?”
She beamed and patted her tight hair. “Personally, I think you should go with whatever makes you feel happiest. If it’s white, it’s white. Colors can be lovely, too.” After taking our empty plates to the sink, she sat beside Dad again. “Saturday, you say? Then we should go shopping tomorrow. There’s a bridal place in Waldron Bay.” Her elbow nudged Dad. “You’ll go with us. I’ll help Cara try on dresses while you watch Arie.”
“I love that idea,” I said. “Sam has appointed herself my wedding planner.” While I shook my head, my grin became true. “I’ll send her a text, and we can pick her up along the way.”
Cara
I was a complete wreck.
Because it was Saturday morning. The day I would marry the man I’d cared for in one way or another for most of my life.
I’d have to do whatever I could to avoid loving him now. Sure, I was attracted to him. Okay, a hell of a lot more than attracted to him. But I could deal with that because it was physical. My body’s response would not shred my emotions.
I sat in a chair in the small room off the church’s vestibule, where Sam and Barbie, my maids of honor, had helped me dress.
I’d helped Arie get ready earlier. Dad’s only task was to keep her from getting dirty until the service began.
Barbie stood behind me, clicking her tongue while doing last-minute touch-ups to my hair, which she and Sam had styled in a high, twisted arrangement and decorated with flowers that matched my bouquet.
Pulling my fingernail away from my mouth, a habit I needed to break, I frowned at Sam. “We should’ve had a rehearsal last night.” Everyone had rehearsals, didn’t they?
“You didn’t need a rehearsal,” Sam said. Normally dressed in scuffed denim, tees, and boots, Sam in formal attire outdid any bridal fashion model. When Camila and her partner, Janine, had stopped in for a few moments, however, it had been hard to tell who looked better, Mom or daughter. The Jensen family cleaned up well. Sam and Barbie wore matching, tea-length dresses in robin’s egg blue. The blue looked gorgeous against Barbie’s dark skin. “Since you’re marrying my brother, and you’ve known him forever,” Sam said. “You can wing it.”
“It’s a wedding. You don’t wing a wedding.” Even to Roan. No, especially to Roan.
“If it was my wedding, I would.”
I didn’t miss the forlorn tone in her words. After her loss, it would take a special person to talk Sam into the idea of getting married.
“Now, now, Samantha.” Barbie smoothed a seam on my shoulder. “Stop teasing Cara. Can’t you see you’re stressing her?”
“Sorry. But, really, Cara, it’s not like you haven’t done this before. There’s nothing to it. You walk down the aisle with your dad, while Arie and I play point.”
“This isn’t a combat situation.” Lord, I hoped it wasn’t. I frowned. “Arie. She has the rings?” Instead of the traditional flower girl, my daughter would be our ring bearer.
“For the twentieth time, she does.” Sam kicked off her heels and wiggled her silk stocking-covered toes, sighing in pleasure. “God, my feet hurt already.” She glanced up. “The rest is a piece of cake. Storm the altar, spit out that I do stuff. Then kiss, which must be old news after that heart-shaped bed. What’s so complicated about that?”
I refused to touch her comments. “It’s not the mechanics of the process.” It was the emotions. Those shot through my insides like firecrackers.
Barbie finished with my hair and came around to stand in front of me, beaming. “You look fabulous.” She pinched my cheeks. Weren’t they scarlet enough already? Sam had declared me too pale a moment ago and plastered on a container’s worth of color. “You’re truly a work of art.”
“Thank you.” Taking a shaky breath, I slipped on my heels and stood.
Why had I let her talk me into a cream, formal wedding gown? Sam insisted cream was the latest bridal thing, based on what she’d seen on TV. And Barbie said I needed something symbolic, a dress that showed this was a new beginning. Which hardly seemed necessary for a marriage of convenience. I wasn’t a nineteen-year-old marrying her high school sweetheart.
This was not my first rodeo.
In many ways, though, it was. Yes, I’d married Jason, but deep in my heart, I’d known that Arie changed everything. Our marriage had counted, though it hadn’t truly been my decision. Once the paternity results arrived in the mail, Jason had rushed me to the altar before I had time to blink. Heartsick and scared about the future, it had seemed easier to give in to his wishes, which was the first of many times I’d give in, rather than put up a fight.
Dad knocked on the door, calling out, “Time.”
Even though I wanted this, my belly plunged to the floor.
Barbie and Sam gave me dreamy smiles.
“Chin up,” Sam said. “You can do this.”
“Sam, I have to thank you. You performed a miracle pullin
g this together for us.” I owed her the world for not just arranging the church and the caterers, but for not passing judgment about the choices I’d made while we planned.
She’d tried to talk me into black bridesmaids’ dresses.
“I wanted to help,” she said. “It was fun. And I was doing it for you and my brother.”
My nervous heart warmed from a glacier to an ice cube. “I’m ready.” My lips lifted all on their own because I was ready. To marry Roan.
At my nod, Barbie opened the door and we emerged into the waiting area outside the main part of the chapel. The chapel doors were closed, but the murmur of voices inside reminded me that Sam had invited the entire town. Or so it seemed to me when I helped her fill out the invitations.
Dad waited beside the door with a fidgeting Arie clinging to his jacket. Knowing my daughter, she wanted to run. Play. Do anything but stand around in a frilly dress.
“You’re beautiful, Cara,” Dad said, walking forward. “Your mom would’ve loved to be here today.” Pausing in front of me, his eyes swam before he blinked his tears away.
“You look so handsome,” I said. The Jensons weren’t the only ones who cleaned up good.
While I gave Dad a quick kiss, Barbie entered the chapel, joining the other guests in the front pew.
Arie stared up at me, holding a small pillow with our rings secured down with a ribbon. “You look like a princess, Mommy.” She frowned down at the pillow. “I can’t drop this.” Something Sam must’ve told her a billion times. “I gotta give it to Dag, the bestest man. Then I gotta sit with Grandpa.”
I stooped down and hugged her. “I love you, sweetie.”
Her smile was everything good. Everything worth fighting for. “Love you, too, Mommy.”
Rising, I carefully blotted away my own tears, hoping I wasn’t smearing my make-up.
“We need to go marry Roan,” Arie added with a grin.
Roan had spent a lot of time with Arie over the past few days, taking her out for cocoa and curly fries at the Brew House, and they’d even gone cross country skiing, which Arie had loved. The fact that they were good friends already reinforced my decision. Roan had promised to continue doing things with Arie even after the marriage was over. As a father figure, he’d remain a part of her life.