And then do what?
Ask a reporter for a ride in a news van? Call a cab? Did they have Uber in Teton Ridge? Okay, so maybe this wasn’t one of her better thought-out plans. This was why she tried not to let her emotions get the better of her.
“C’mon,” she told herself in the mirror. There were hundreds of people in attendance at the funeral. Surely someone would be heading her way. “For God’s sake, what’s with you? You’re smart. You’re resourceful. You’ve just been named one of the top litigators in Lone Star Docket magazine. Finding a ride to the airport should be the least of your problems. Get it together, damn it.”
Finally the pep talk worked. She ran a hand through her dark hair and turned to the door. Straightening her spine, she left the safety of her temporary hideout with her head held high.
Only to slam into the very man she’d been trying to avoid.
Marcus’s hands were firm and strong on her shoulders as he caught her, then immediately released her when his surprised face recognized hers.
“Violet.” His voice was deeper than she’d remembered, and his solemn tone was definitely less playful. But at least it wasn’t accusatory, which might have been how she would’ve sounded if he’d shown up at her father’s funeral.
She drew in a deep breath, trying to ignore his citrus and leather–scented shower gel, still familiar after all these years. “Hi, Marcus. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”
A storm of emotion passed behind those blue eyes of his, as though fighting to remember why they were both here in the vestibule of the First Congregation of Teton Ridge. Her stomach roiled and twisted in a storm of its own, and she didn’t know if it was a symptom from her impending migraine or a symptom of standing inches away from her ex-boyfriend.
Finally, he rubbed the back of his neck before giving her a curt nod. “Thank you.”
She wanted to ask him how he was holding up, but the slight shadow of his sunken cheeks told her that he wasn’t doing well. The stiff resolve in his square jaw similarly told her that he wouldn’t admit it.
Clearly, neither one wanted to be the first to run away from the history between them. She could make an excuse about needing to catch her ride, but what if he followed her outside and saw that everyone had already left?
Speaking of the motorcade, why was he still here? Why hadn’t he ridden in the family limos with his mother and siblings? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him, but he crossed his arms over his chest, his defensive posture suggesting he was more than willing to stand there silently and wait her out.
He reminded her of a court bailiff or a guard at the jail who stood by stoically as she interviewed one of her clients, annoyed by the assignment and pretending not to be counting the minutes until he could be out of her presence.
The longer Marcus remained planted there staring at her, the more her pulse pounded with annoyance. Was he not even slightly curious about what had happened to her? Or at least willing to be polite and pretend he cared?
What made it worse was that Violet desperately wanted to ask him all kinds of questions about his life. To find out what he’d been doing since he’d vanished from her life without so much as a see ya fourteen years ago.
Yet she doubted he’d be forthcoming with those answers, either. Instead she said, “I saw Tessa leave the service early. I hope she’s okay.”
Even to her ears it sounded like she was fishing for information rather than simply trying to engage him in conversation. But the alternative would have been to either stand there silently and let the awkward tension build or to dash away as though she had something to hide.
Plus, she had always been fond of Tessa and was legitimately concerned about his sister. Marcus might not be willing to talk about himself, but he’d never been able to hide his concern for his family.
For the first time, his eyes darted away from her, and he cleared his throat. “Tessa wasn’t feeling well, and a Secret Service agent took her to the command center tent to have the medics examine her.”
“Oh, no. I could go check on her,” Violet said, taking a step back. In fact, the migraine medicine wasn’t kicking in as quickly as she’d hoped, and the nausea bubbling inside her was growing worse. Having grown up around big events like this, she knew there’d be a staging area behind the church that would be quicker to access on foot. The thought of some fresh air and an anti-nausea pill had her pivoting to leave.
“Actually.” His voice was commanding and held the slightest warning. Violet paused midturn as he continued. “I’m going to be heading that way when I get done here. I’ll let her know you were concerned.”
The subtle, yet presumptive, instruction wasn’t lost on Violet. Marcus clearly didn’t want her going in the same direction as him. Or maybe he didn’t want her having any contact with his family. Which was too bad because the MACC tent was usually staffed with first responders and government employees who would be more than willing to assist her in finding alternate transportation to the airport.
Her neck stiffened with irritation, and she lifted her chin. “In that case, don’t let me keep you.”
He rocked back on the heels of his expensive leather cowboy boots but didn’t make a move to leave. “I’m waiting for someone.”
Violet felt the color drain from her face. Had there been someone else in the ladies’ room when she’d been in there giving herself a pep talk in the mirror? Was it his wife? She’d inadvertently heard through the political grapevine that he’d married a while ago, but she’d stopped herself from ever confirming the fact. In fact, she’d practically made it a personal mission to avoid any news about Marcus. After their breakup, she’d told herself that she had more important things to focus on and he didn’t deserve the headspace. But maybe that had been a mistake. Violet wouldn’t go into a courtroom without briefing the relevant facts of the case, so why had she shown up on his home turf so unprepared?
Instead of a wife coming out of the ladies’ room, though, the door to the men’s restroom sprang open, and two young boys spilled out.
“Jack didn’t use any soap when he washed his hands,” one of the children quickly said to Marcus.
“That’s cuz I finished before Jordan and didn’t touch the flusher, Dad.”
“Dad?” Violet heard herself squeak as her eyes darted between the identical boys and Marcus. “They’re...yours?”
She tried to swallow as a sickening wave threatened to upend the contents of her stomach. She put a hand to her lower abdomen as though she could stop the building discomfort, or at least the ghost of a long-ago pain.
“Yes,” Marcus said, putting an arm around each boy as all three sets of matching blue eyes blinked skeptically at her. “These are my sons. Jack and Jordan King. Boys, this is my...uh...an old friend of the family.”
“They...” Her throat spasmed, and she waited a beat before trying again. “They’re twins.”
It was more of a statement than a question. And an accusatory one at that.
“Yes,” Marcus replied slowly, one blondish-brown eyebrow lifting. “Why do you look so shocked? It runs in my family.”
She felt the perspiration dotting her upper lip even as a chill raced down her spine.
Because once, they were going to have twins.
She almost admitted as much aloud, but she was already shoving her way back through the restroom door, barely making it into the stall before the contents of her stomach tore through her.
Copyright © 2021 by Christy Jeffries
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ISBN-13: 9780369710031
The Major Gets it Right
Copyright © 2021 by Victoria Pade
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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The Major Gets it Right Page 22