The Billionaire's Marriage: A Romance Novel

by Marshall, Marnie

  "None. I checked twice, Sir."

  "Shit!" I pound my fist repeatedly on the dashboard. "Fuck! Where the fuck is she?"

  "I won't rest until we find her, Sir.

  "Ditto, Sir," Reynolds piped up.

  My phone beeps. Elliot, fuck. "I have to take this." I switch the call and turn of the speaker, my heart thudding wildly in my chest. "King."

  "Mom's out of surgery. She made it."

  My body sags with bitter relief against the seat. "Tell Dad I'll be there as soon as I can."

  "What's going on with you?"

  I hesitate, much too long. "I'll get back to you."

  "Bro, wait! What's wrong?"

  "Elliot, please worry about Mom. I'll be there as soon as I have Krissy."

  "Krissy? She's right here."

  "What?" My heart nearly stops.

  "Just walked in. She's… hold on…" I hear mumbling in the background, and then as if by magic, I hear the most beautiful voice in the world.

  "Hello?"

  My throat clenches. "Krissy… God… don't move. Stay there!"

  I thumb the switch button, and a new emotion fills me… anger. "Taylor, she's with my family at the hospital." On that note, Reynolds turns the SUV sharply in the direction of Virginia Mason, and I grab the Oh-Shit handle.

  "Thank the Lord. I'll meet you there."

  My breaths have grown to the strength of gale-force winds. A day's worth of adrenaline departs my body as through a sieve, leaving behind an edgy fatigue and a nasty contempt for how things could have gone so wrong. The more clear-headed I become, the more I'm at a loss for how I could have controlled any of it, and that scares the shit out of me. I close my eyes, forcing the breaths to slow, or at least to even out, silently reciting what's most important.

  Mom is alive. She's alive and recovering. Krissy is safe. She's with family. I'll be with all of them soon.

  But despite these affirmations, despite the semblance of control I think I've garnered between leaving the vehicle and catching up to Taylor in the third floor corridor, somewhere along the way, I lose it. I see Krissy, slouching in a chair next to Elliot, and I fucking lose it.

  "Where the fuck have you been?" My knees ache where they've hit the tile floor, my hands bloodless-tight where they clasp around the seat of her chair, arms shaking with fury. "Do you understand what you've done to me today? Any idea what you've put me through?"

  I hear myself, teeth gritted through the words. Her bottom lip trembles, her eyes like watery glass, but the shame I feel for scaring her holds no candle to the pent-up rage. "Answer me!"

  "Bro, stop!" Elliot throws his arm between us, a barrier to protect her… from me. Something snaps inside, and my fingers loosen their grip. I blink, the anger subsiding, the wall of control going up. I rise, and Elliot tentatively pulls his arm back. Krissy's eyes follow me, but I can't quite read her.

  Elliot calms his voice. "We've all had a terrible day. Let's just take a sec and calm down. You all right, Sis?"

  Krissy nods halfheartedly.

  "Taylor!"

  "Yes, Sir?"

  "Please take Mrs. King home. Make sure she eats something."

  "Right away, Sir. Ma'am?"

  Krissy pushes herself up, weakly, and follows, carrying her sandals. There's a flesh-colored bandage at her right knee. My eyes trail after her until she disappears around a corner.

  I pull out my phone, dropping into the chair Krissy just vacated, putting up a finger to shut my brother up, if only for a few seconds.

  "Chief Metz."

  "Metz, King. I've found her. You can call off the dogs."

  "Good to hear, King. I hope you won't mind if I send a patrol by in the morning to confirm."

  "Of course I mind. But don't let that stop you."

  The Chief laughs, jolting me momentarily from the enveloping gloom. "Tell your father he owes me a round on the green."

  "I'll do that." Not anytime soon.

  I set the phone in my lap and lean back in the seat, scrubbing my fingers over my face.

  "Start talking, brother."

  "Hmm. Not now, Elliot."

  "Yes. Now." I open my eyes, and he's staring me down. God, I want to deck him, but I haven't the energy. I want to see my mother, see for myself that she's still with us, and then I need to go home and get an explanation for where my wife has been these last several hours. I suspect I won't like the answer, and that I'll hate myself a lot more than I did this morning, and a little more than I do now.

  "Where's your wife?" I deflect.

  "Home with Ava. They both have colds, don't change the subject."

  I sigh. "She gave security the slip. Not sure if it was intentional, and no, I didn't just help things by behaving like a raging bull, you don't have to say it."

  "Hmm. Wow."

  "Yeah."

  "She said something about getting lost. She was real thirsty. Drank about a half-gallon right before you showed up."

  "What else?"

  He shrugs. "She seemed tired, kind of dazed. A nurse brought her up, said she was looking for Mom… like she didn't know yet. You didn't tell her?"

  "Didn't have the chance." Another piece of the puzzle falls into place, while others scatter.

  We both stand when Dad appears in the hallway.

  "How is she?" My voice sounds weak, pleading even.

  "Better. The doctors want to keep her several days for observation. She's awake, Mia's sitting with her. I'll know more once her test results come back. We should visit one at a time until she's a bit stronger."

  As much as I want to rush down that hallway… and I almost do just that… Elliot has been here all day, waiting. "Go on," I nudge him.

  "You sure?"

  I nod in the direction of the doors.

  He blows out a sigh, puffing his cheeks, and disappears down the hall.

  I drop into the seat again, Dad settling next to me.

  "You finish whatever deal snatched you away?" There's a bitter edge to his voice.

  I don't have it in me to be elusive. Or snarky. "Wasn't business, Dad. It was Krissy."

  The edge shifts to barely-concealed alarm. "What do you mean it was Krissy? Is she all right?"

  "She is now." I lean forward, elbows to knees, dropping my face into my hands.

  "God, Edward, you could have told us!"

  "You had enough to worry about, Dad."

  "And I was angry with you on top of it! You ran off with barely a word, I thought you were closing some deal or merger or something. You need to tell us these things, son. We're your family!"

  "And berating me doesn't help the situation. I'm sorry, all right? I'm fucking sorry!"

  "Edward…"

  My legs push me up out of the unforgiving plastic chair. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm… I'm…"

  Dad's arms lock around me suddenly, before I'm aware enough to resist. I stiffen, but the breaths coming in waves and the wetness on my cheeks are enough distraction to prevent me lashing out. I let him hold onto me, more for him than for me, the litany of apology on my lips.

  "Shh… It's all right." His voice is uncomfortably soothing. "It's all right, son."

  "I'm sorry, Dad. I should have told you," I whisper. "I should have been here."

  Another set of arms encircle my waist, and it takes only a second to realize they belong to my sister. Dad and I both pull her into us. I don't think I've ever shared in a group hug before, not with adults, at any rate. It's another long moment before we release each other, but Mia keeps my hand.

  "Walk me down? Ethan's plane landed an hour ago, he's on his way here to pick me up." She sounds exhausted. Dad waves us on.

  "How's Mom?" I ask gently.

  Mia sighs. "I've never seen her like this. I don't think any of us has. She asked for you."

  "I'll see her when Elliot is done."

  "Where have you been? I was worried."

  I sigh. "Looking for Krissy."

  "You… what?"

  I sigh. "It's a long s
tory. I don't even know most of it yet. She's safe and headed home, that's the important thing. Please don't make a fuss of it, all right?"

  "Okay." A too-tired-to-push-the-subject Mia is a little unnerving. She lets me press the elevator button for her, another first. We're silent until we reach the lobby.

  "Mia!" Ethan darts out of nowhere and sweeps my sister into his arms. "I'm sorry I wasn't here," he whispers into her hair. Mia sags against him, her weariness evident. I exchange a check-in glance with Sawyer, hovering covertly near the sliding doors.

  Ethan releases Mia but keeps an arm around her waist, offering me his hand, and we shake. "I'm glad your mom's doing better. I hopped on the first flight I could get. Let me know if I can do anything, okay?"

  "Just take my sister home. Make sure she eats something." I'm sure I sound like a broken record, but I don't give a flying fuck.

  "Will do. Come on, baby. We'll pick something up on the way."

  I watch him escort her through the doors and into a waiting car before I nod Sawyer over.

  "Sir." He follows me into the elevator.

  "My mother's just had surgery. I'm reassigning you here to look after my family for the duration. Whatever they need. Don't fuck it up."

  "Understood, Sir." There's a repentant edge to his reply. It's unlike him to take action without clearing it. If he'd heeded my standing instructions instead of succumbing to Krissy's, this might not have happened… but I'll deal with could-haves later.

  I leave him to work out details with my father and fish out my Blackberry.

  "Taylor."

  "Has she eaten?"

  "Gail is fixing her something now. Sir, she told me what happened. It wasn't her fault in the slightest."

  My eyes close in resignation. Of course it wasn't. "Tell me."

  He sighs. "She thinks she had another episode. When she regained awareness, she went to find Ryan, but by that time he'd been alerted to her cell going out of range. They must have missed each other by seconds. By the time he went back, she'd already carved a pretty erratic path but ultimately, when she realized she'd left her things behind, she couldn't figure out how to get back to the restaurant. She doesn't have any addresses or phone numbers memorized. No cash for a cab, even if she could remember how to get back to the house. She found a phone book and dug through that, found the number for your father's practice but that was all. It was pretty smart of her to think of where your mom works, that even if she wasn't working today, someone there could help her. So she asked directions and started walking.

  "Christ. That had to be at least three miles."

  "And in heels. Your wife deserves a medal, Sir. It's a wonder no one recognized her."

  "The episode… is she all right from that?"

  "Her focus and balance seem fine. She's pretty tired though. Says your brother made her drink a ton of water when she got there."

  I sigh. "Let her know I'll be home in the next hour or so. And that you filled me in."

  "Will do. And Sir?"

  "Hmm?"

  "She's pretty upset. About your mother more than what happened to her."

  Another shard in my gut. "If that's your way of telling me I was out of line earlier… you're absolutely right."

  "Just doing my job, Sir."

  "Thank you, Jason."

  I click the phone off, and find Elliot sitting at Mom's bedside. I lean in the doorway a moment, just observing the pair. It's fairly dark, only a small fluorescent next to the bed illuminating their faces. Mom's hand is outstretched, palm pressed to Elliot's face. It feels a deeply intimate moment and I avert my eyes, turning them to the sterile tile floor. I clear my throat quietly.

  "Edward!" Mom's voice is softly delighted. "Elliot, give your brother a turn, will you?"

  Elliot leans down to press a kiss to our mother's cheek and then rises, releasing her hand with a squeeze. He claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes.

  "Come here, darling," Mom coaxes, her fingers stretched weakly toward me, and I obey, if from a sense of familial duty, as my legs would otherwise refuse to drive me forward. I've never seen my mother in such a state. Moving closer, the details of her frailty becoming clearer, and I feel compelled to run, to hide, to deny that she could be anything but the flawless support I've always known. It's as offensive an awakening as I've ever had, at the deepest level, grasping for the first time that one's parents aren't infallible.

  My fingers find hers, and she curls them around mine, a bit more strongly than I'd expected, considering. Gauze bandages wrap her head, tubes loop her arm and attach with tape. The chair still holds some of Elliot's warmth.

  "Hello, sweetheart." Mom's breathing is a bit off, and I notice the spidery oxygen tubes cast aside on her pillow. I gesture to them.

  "Do you need that?" I ask.

  "Not right now, darling, thank you. Sit down and talk to me a while."

  "Mom, how did this happen?" The words fall out of my mouth before I can collect them. Damn it all, I should be comforting her, not breaking down. But something inside me has broken, and I can't stop.

  She pulls in a deep, slightly shaky breath. "Bodies aren't perfect, Edward. They get old, they break. You've seen me at work enough times to understand that."

  "This is you we're talking about," I emphasize, and she laughs lightly.

  "This is quite a mark on an otherwise untarnished record, isn't it?" she offers me a small smile, her eyes slightly unfocused, but sparkling as ever. "I'll not be ignoring persistent headaches so casually in the future." She's obviously on something to manage her pain, and though her comfort is reassuring, an old wound twinges inside me.

  "Can I get you anything?"

  "Just you. I want to hang onto my sweet boy for a while, all right?"

  I nearly jest about bringing Elliot back, but refrain. "Yes, Mom." Her hand makes to release mine, lifting to cup my cheek as she'd done to my brother. I hold it there, pressing her fingers to my skin. The contact awakens the broken shards within, compelling me to speak. "I messed up again."

  "We do that from time to time," she reminds me. "What did you do?"

  I tell her what happened, and how badly I behaved. She listens calmly, a little too serenely. I chalk it up to her mildly drugged state. When I finish, she brushes the corner of my mouth with her thumb.

  "You'll make it right," is all she says to me, and I know the matter is closed.

  "I love you, Mom. I don't tell you enough."

  "And you're so precious to me, darling. I don't know what I'd have done without you."

  "Sleep better at night, I imagine."

  "Oh Edward… don't you know? You're my greatest accomplishment. You and your brother and sister. You're my victory dance."

  I sniffle suddenly. My eyes are dry, emotions ragged from their day-long onslaught, rendered too exhausted for another breakdown. "I couldn't bear to lose you. Not now. I still need you. I still need my mother."

  The corners of her mouth twitch up. "Not going anywhere but to sleep, for now." She shifts a bit, her head lolling further to the side. "Be a dear and tuck me in?"

  "Of course." My free hand reaches down the bed to a light blanket, lying tangled over her legs. I pull it up over the printed sheet and tuck it around her, and insistently readjust the oxygen tubes. She doesn't resist, her eyes fluttering sleepily. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Bring my grandson," she whispers, her eyes closing.

  "I will."

  ~oOo~

  The new norm has become a greeting of gangly, fawn and gray legs, tails and tongues at the front door. Absence of said ritual reminded me again that this day has been anything but normal, and though I crave the routine of a calm evening as a balm for my battered soul, I deserve nothing but the opposite.

  I drape my suit jacket over the back of a chair and undo my already-loosened tie. A note on the kitchen counter informs me that leftovers from the evening's meal are in the fridge. I find the appropriate container beside a bowl of farmers market eggs, but my stomach twis
ts at the sight of food and I shut the door, opting to check on my family instead. I hadn't realized how much of the evening had gone.

  Removing my shoes at the bottom of the stairs I pad softly up to Ryan's room, finding him sleeping beneath the scattering of projected stars from his night light. I enter only to kiss him good night, his warm cheek breathing life into me, and then I leave him to his quiet slumber.

  Anxiety greets me at the door to our bedroom. Swallowing hard, I suck in a breath and turn the handle. Light from the hall floods across the sitting room rug, casting shadows of my body in its wake. My eyes adjust to the relative darkness and I find Krissy, a covered lump in our bed, both dogs curled next to her. Her back is to me and I wait, watching for a moment, as her side rises and falls with even breaths. Unquestionably asleep.

  I can't bear to wake her. Leaving as softly as I came, I pull the door closed with the softest click. The blue bedroom wags its robin's-egg finger at me.

  CHAPTER 18

  ~ EDWARD ~

  Rapid thrumming in my chest stirs me from unconsciousness. It takes a moment to remember where I am… the blue bedroom. At the moment, it's the slate gray bedroom, the way the moonlight reflects from the windowsill. I'm not bathed in sweat, so I doubt it was a nightmare that woke me, but it's alarming nonetheless. The Blackberry reads 4:03. Good; five hours. Can't ask for much better.

  The air is crisp and startlingly humid this morning, bringing out the smell of earth and ocean as my trainers crunch along the familiar mulch path. Running is supposed to clear my head, help me work out solutions, stir new ideas… but on this day, I'm irrevocably stuck. I don't know how to apologize this time. To do better, not re-assert some old expression of regret from a time she can't remember, but to assure her that I absolutely didn't intend to frighten her, that I love her, and that I'm so relieved she's safe. Easily said, poorly received.

  Six miles later, I'm no closer to an answer, but I'm fairly near the house. Perhaps a shower will spark something.

  There's an old anecdote that says the Italians will throw spaghetti onto a wall, producing patterns that inspire creative thoughts and other such innovation. I don't have noodles to throw, nor would I dare waste food in such a manner, but the steam patterns on the guest bath mirror remind me of my late grandfather's story. They're not much help either, these steam blurs… and with shaving cream smeared over my jaw I can't take my reflection seriously.