For Pete's Sake: An Enemies to Lovers Marriage of Convenience Standalone Romance Novel (Tobin Tribe Book 1)

by Caitlyn Coakley

  She affected an exaggerated pout. “It’s a start.”

  He blew out a huff. “Again with the ‘It’s a start’? Isn’t that how we got into this whole mess in the first place?”

  Ouch. There was no way to hide that little flash of hurt. Not that it was a little flash. More like blazing neon. No way could he have missed that reaction.

  “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m a little nervous, but not so nervous I can’t hear the wheels turning inside that beautiful, brainy head of yours. What do you want?”

  What did she want? She wanted him. She wanted forever. She wanted a houseful of kids. His kids. But she had to tread lightly. If she’d misread his signals, this could all go terribly, irrevocably wrong, and she’d be left with nothing. Again.

  “I can live with your offer, but I’m going to need something more.”

  He bit his bottom lip, but it didn’t help. She could see the smile light up his eyes. “Go on,” he said.

  “Since the secret part of this arrangement went out the window with Aunt Sandy, the only clause left to consider is the duration of our partnership.” She held her breath.

  “Ah, yes, the Megan clause. That is a sticky point. She’s doing well, so I don’t think there’s a case to keep her in the hospital past Friday.”

  Friday. Four days. Her heart sank along with her head. Megan would indeed be coming home, and she would want Pete. And Ethan. “She’s going to need you.” Damn, that was barely above a whisper. Had she sounded weak? Defeated?

  He grasped her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “And I need you. There has to be a solution. A way to keep all of my family together, because make no mistake, you are very much a part of my family. An important part. The most important part. Stephanie, I love you.”

  Now he had her undivided attention. Where the hell was that impulsive tongue now that she needed it the most? Of all the times she should have stayed quiet, now she was speechless? But all she could do was nod. And smile. And where the hell were those tears coming from? CEOs didn’t cry. But women with battered hearts did.

  He cradled her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. “Of all the reactions I anticipated, this wasn’t in the top ten. Please don’t cry. I want to spend the rest of my life putting a smile on that beautiful face. Please tell me those are happy tears.”

  Her smile grew; her head bobbed more forcefully. And more tears fell. Sheesh, could she get her mouth to form four little words? Four itsy bitsy syllables? She could do this. Or not. Her tears grew into sobs wracking her body with painful spasms. Finally, in desperation, she pointed to her eye, then her heart, then him, and finally held up two fingers as her body convulsed.

  Relief blanketed his face. He reached behind him to pull a linen napkin from the sideboard drawer and gently wiped her tears. “You know, I’m going to have to have you repeat that for the record. Now blow.”

  On one of her grandmother’s imported Irish linen and lace napkins? Why not? She did as he asked. Good lord, was that trumpet sound coming from her? Way to mess up one of the most important conversations of her life. She drank from the bottle of water he offered her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said between hiccups. “I’ve made a huge mess of this. I love you, too. Today has been such an emotional rollercoaster, everything kind of all hit me at once. We saved my company. And you surprised me by telling me you love me. And my period is six days late. It’s never late. It’s like hitting the trifecta.”

  Or winning the Triple Crown.

  His face lit up; she wouldn’t be surprised if the airport called and asked him to tone it down because he was blinding pilots. “You think we did it? How do you feel? Do you want some crackers? Maybe you should lie down and put your feet up. Did you take a test? I could go to the drug store to get you a test. What kind of test do you want?”

  She put her finger on his lips. Between her blubbering and his babbling, they were going to have a great story to tell their kids about the day daddy proposed: for the second time.

  All they had to do was figure out how to get Auntie Megan on board.

  CHAPTER 51

  HAD STEPHANIE FALLEN through some kind of rip in the time-space continuum and landed on the set of a bad spaghetti western? As if there had ever been a good spaghetti western. Like two gunslingers about to draw on each other at the not-so-okay corral, she locked eyes with Megan. Crazy eyes, like Ethan’s, but blazing with enough heat to singe her from across the room.

  Megan clutched Pete to her chest. With nothing at her disposal, Stephanie crossed her arms over her chest, squeezing to ease the ache in her heart. She’d known Pete wasn’t hers, that caring for him was only temporary, but relinquishing him to another woman, including his own mother, hurt like hell. She loved that little goober.

  Megan turned her blazing eyes on Ethan. “But our house is perfect! All those nights watching reruns in those disgusting foster homes, we dreamed about a house like that. The Cleavers could have lived there. Or the Nelsons. It’s everything we’ve ever wanted.”

  Megan’s tears made Stephanie’s outburst seem like the aftermath of a polite sneeze. To say it was an ugly cry would make Captain Obvious proud.

  Ethan’s own crazy eyes telegraphed his concern and pain. This was killing him. Why couldn’t Megan see that this was the best solution?

  “I know, baby sister...”

  She socked him in the arm. “Don’t call me that!”

  He grabbed his arm, feigning pain. “Oww! You and your damned right hook.” He stuck out his tongue to make her laugh. It worked. “You can live there again, eventually, but it would be so much easier if you moved in with Stephanie and me for a few weeks until you get used to Pete’s routine. To have someone there to provide you with support and backup. Those middle of the night feedings are a bear and having someone to tag team with makes everything so much easier.”

  The fire in Megan’s eyes reignited. “So I’m out, and she’s in? You said you were only with her until I was out of this hellhole.”

  “Things changed.” He glanced at Stephanie with a weak smile. “I love her.” His pinched expression eased when she smiled back.

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Her and everybody else you’ve ever dated.”

  Megan didn’t have all the facts about that, and it was all Stephanie could do not to defend Ethan. She opened her mouth but shut it. This time, she would keep her opinions to herself.

  Ethan nodded, agreeing with his sister. “But now she loves me, and that’s what I’ve wanted. What I’ve dreamed about. You’ve always known that, even if I wouldn’t admit it.”

  Megan might have known that, but judging from the look on her face, she didn’t care. “Don’t I get a vote in this?” she asked.

  Ethan did that little frowny, head-nodding thing he always did when he was considering something. Uh oh, the head tilt. To the right. That was a yes.

  Nausea washed over her. Pregnancy or stress? She still hadn’t taken the test Ethan had rushed out to get her. Make that tests: one of each kind the drugstore had. She wasn’t ready to know for sure. She’d cling to the fantasy of Ethan’s baby growing inside of her until it was confirmed or destroyed.

  Ethan nodded in agreement. “Okay, that seems fair.”

  Fair? Fair to who? Whom? Whatever. What was so fair about giving Megan a vote in her life without her input? Stephanie’s temper rose. And that smug look on Megan’s face pushed her anger higher.

  Ethan shot Stephanie a stern look, knitted brow and all. He turned back to Megan. “Here’s my offer: I’ll give you the same vote on my marriage that you gave me on yours. Deal?”

  Well, that took the wind out of her sails.

  “You’re not going to let that go, are you? What do you want me to say? That Smitty was a mistake? Fine! Smitty was a mistake. That I should have waited until you could check him out? You’re right! I should have waited. Don’t you ever get tired of being right? But I was pregnant, and I didn’t want Pete to live with the stigma we had to live with. I wanted Pet
e to have a real father.”

  Ethan pulled his sister and nephew into his arms. Hadn’t he done the exact same thing with her and Pete not too long ago? The memory of that embrace blanketed her.

  “I know, Megan. Trust me, I know. But I want Stephanie’s baby to have a real father too. I want to be that father, to give my baby all the things you and I never had. I’ll still love you and Pete; that will never change. I’ll still be there for both of you, but you could make it a whole lot easier on me if you’d move in with us.”

  Megan pulled away. “And if I said no?”

  From the way Ethan’s ears suddenly glowed red, he hadn’t expected Megan to give him this much pushback. He set his features into that horrible stony mask. “Then I’ll file for custody and require supervised visitation for you.”

  Good God, was that his voice?

  “Every judge on the bench hates you. What judge in his right mind would grant that kind of request?”

  “The judge who is in her right mind. Who happens to have nearly coldcocked her life-long best friend at church last week to claim her turn to hold Pete. The judge who happens to be Stephanie’s aunt. Please don’t make me do this, but make no mistake, I will do it. Our house has three master suites; one of them is at the other end of a long hallway. You’d have complete privacy, but we’d be there if you needed us.”

  “It was Smitty’s suite,” Stephanie blurted out. What the hell? Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

  “What?”

  It was too late now; she might as well spill the rest. “He was hellbent on sleeping in what had been my grandparents’ suite. I’ve always hated that room. It creeps me out, so I wouldn’t sleep there. On the rare occasion he left your bed, Smitty never shared mine.” Her voice trembled.

  Why was she bothering with this? That was easy, to keep Pete a little longer. She’d do anything for Pete’s sake, including confess her deepest humiliation. “We only had sex once, on our wedding night, and he was so drunk, it was over almost before it began. I still don’t know why, but he never came back for more.”

  Was that a smile on her face? If Megan hadn’t been holding Pete, Stephanie would have taken care of that in a heartbeat. “What’s so funny?”

  Megan snorted. “You didn’t miss much. Even stone-cold sober, Smitty was a minuteman. If I was lucky.”

  Wow, talk about an icebreaker. If they hadn’t already been in the middle of a psych ward, their cathartic cackling would have surely landed them in one. Ethan doubled over, braying like a donkey.

  Waves and waves of merriment washed over Stephanie. Her sides hurt, and she could barely catch her breath. Every attempt to start a new sentence yielded to more laughter. Finally, she was able to croak out, “Then why did you stay with him? Hell, why did I put up with his shit for almost a year?”

  Megan kissed the top of Pete’s head. “I was so sick during my pregnancy that sex was the last thing on my mind. I assumed he was being a kind, understanding husband. He said he loved me, and I needed to be loved. He said he had something in the works that would pay off big time, and that if I stayed with him, we’d rule the world together. And, like a fool, I believed him.”

  CHAPTER 52

  ETHAN’S LAUGH DIED mid-chortle. “Smitty had something big in the works? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

  Megan shrugged. “Um... because I was pregnant and had more important things to worry about than sharing our pillow talk with you?”

  Ethan waved her off, but she was right. The last thing he wanted to think about was what went on once they closed their bedroom door, but fuzzy connections started forming in the back of his mind.

  He took Stephanie by the shoulders. “Don’t you see? Deb was right, Smitty is the key to this whole mess. The briefcase he left in the bedroom he shared with Megan had a copy of your altered prenup, but it wasn’t a certified copy, which is why I had to deal with the records department at city hall. The only way he could have gotten that was from someone at Kerrigan Financial Services. Irene Johnson is the only logical choice. They had to have been in this together, but I can’t figure out why. At least not yet.”

  “Irene Johnson?” Megan asked. “What does Smitty’s grandmother have to do with anything?”

  Well, knock me over with a feather. Smitty’s grandmother’s name was Irene Johnson? It was a common enough name, so it could be a coincidence, but Ethan didn’t like the way the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. “What do you know about Smitty’s grandmother?”

  Megan reached for her phone. “Just that she’s his last living relative. He was an only child, and both of his parents died when he was a kid. She’s the assistant to the CEO at some big deal brokerage firm in the burbs.” She paged through her gallery. “Here we are at her birthday dinner a few weeks ago.” She handed the phone to Ethan. “Right before she went on a cruise. I was upset because it was so close to my due date, but the cruise was a birthday present from her boss. She should be home by now. Someone should try to call her to tell her about Smitty. I would have, but I don’t have her number.” She looked at Stephanie. “If you have his phone, you could call her.”

  Ethan looked at the picture and muttered the king of all swear words. So much for purging profanity from his vocabulary, but sometimes only an F-bomb would suffice, and this was one of those times. “That won’t be necessary. Irene died Sunday. We’ve just started going through her papers.”

  Stephanie peeked over Ethan’s shoulder. “Yeah, that would be her.”

  Ethan turned to Megan. “Listen to me carefully. If this is what I think it is, everything has suddenly turned upside down. I need you in my house so I can focus. I can’t be running halfway across town in the middle of the night because you heard a noise. And you know you always wake me up when something goes bump in the night. This is suddenly bigger than just you. You are moving in with us, end of the discussion. Do you hear me?”

  Megan shrugged, shoved her earbuds in, picked a playlist, and gently swayed Pete to whatever tune was filling her head.

  She wasn’t going to get out of it that easily, but he’d deal with her later.

  “I don’t understand.” Stephanie clasped his elbow.

  He turned to face her. Whoa, she looked like a zombie. Yeah, she was usually pale, but right now, she was downright ghostly. The defocused, far away quality of her stare scared him. “Think about it, Steph. If Irene was Smitty’s grandmother, who do you think his grandfather was?”

  Ethan held his breath as the realization broke over her, printed on her face like the morning edition of the Philadelphia Inquirer. Her eyes grew wide; her mouth fell open. The hand that had grasped his elbow flew to her mouth as if to stifle a scream. He tensed, ready to move any way he had to in case he had to catch her as she fainted. Pregnant women did that, didn’t they? Damned if he knew, but something told him he was going to be learning a lot of new things in the months to come—and loving every minute of it. If she didn’t fall and hurt herself or the baby in the next few minutes.

  “I had sex with my cousin?” Stephanie whispered.

  At least that’s what he thought he heard through the fist now lodged in her mouth.

  “You didn’t know he was your cousin. You had no reason to believe you had a cousin. And with a name like Smith, who would have thought to check? Plus, his mother’s maiden name would have been Johnson, another common name. You had no way of knowing.”

  “I had sex with my cousin.” This time, her voice choked with a sob.

  Oh boy, was she going into shock? “But only once. Don’t you see, he had to consummate the marriage, but only once. And then he had to drink himself damn near into a coma before he could screw up... uh, get up...no, sorry, find the courage to go through with it. If it came down to a divorce, he could truly claim the marriage was valid because it had been consummated. But if your priest had known Smitty was your first cousin, he would never have performed the ceremony. Hell, the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania would never have issued a license. Fi
rst cousins can’t legally marry here. Your marriage was never valid, either legally or as a sacrament. You buried your cousin in the family plot. Nothing more. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

  “So my wedding was what? One big, elaborate, expensive costume party? It figures, I wasn’t truly a bride on my own wedding day.”

  Ethan’s brain shifted into hyper-speed. He had to find some way to wipe the desolation from her face, to put the sparkle back into those hypnotic eyes he loved so much. He took one small, slow step toward her. Damn if she didn’t look like a skittish rabbit about to scamper off. He needed slow, easy movement now, not exactly a piece of cake for a big man like him.

  “Steph,” he kept his voice soft and low, “you were an incredibly beautiful bride on our wedding day. I understood in my head that it was nothing more than a business deal at that point, but some part of me knew that we were going to end up together. Forever.”

  She looked up at him with vacant eyes. “I’m not a widow?”

  He could barely breathe through the concern squeezing his chest. “I don’t know. I think the real answers are in that last Bankers Box on the dining room table. We need to get home and figure this all out. It might not be pretty, but, like Father Jim always says, the truth will set us free. Are you with me, Stephanie?”

  No response.

  “Baby, please, don’t check out on me now. I need you.” That was an understatement, but an understatement that no longer bothered him because now, she needed him as much as he needed her.

  CHAPTER 53

  ETHAN PUT THE LAST bundle of the love letters back into the interoffice envelope that had been its home for the past thirty years. Jamison, Sr. certainly had had a way with words, God rest his poetic Irish soul. But more than likely, the old geezer was warming his backside somewhere decidedly south of paradise, finally reunited with his one true love. His soulmate.