Sunrise Key 3 - Otherwise Engaged

by Suzanne Brockmann

  Of course, she'd had the advantage of being young and foolish back then.

  Ten years later she was only foolish. How could she have even considered taking part in this sham? How on earth was she going to be able to walk down that aisle and repeat those wedding vows while gazing into Preston's eyes?

  Take a risk. Pres's words echoed over and over in her mind. Take a risk.

  Life was full of risks. Every time she got behind the steering wheel of her car, she was taking a risk. Heck, every time she got out of bed in the morning, every time she drew in another breath of air, she was taking a risk.

  Talk about risks. She'd read in the paper about a woman who was so cautious, she refused to leave her house. And an airplane crashed into it.

  She was a lot like that woman. She'd been content to stay in her own little isolated world, carefully distanced from romance, and then, wham-o, Pres Seaholm had crashed into her life.

  The truth was, she loved him and wanted to be with him. The truth was, she could wind up in exactly the same situation she'd been in with Chuck. That was indeed a risk.

  But if she simply did nothing, if she continued to turn her back on her emotions, if she let Pres slip away, well, that was a risk of an entirely different kind. She was risking what could very well turn out to be her one chance at finding happiness.

  Pres wanted to be with her. He'd made that more than clear. And maybe, just maybe, with a little time, he might fall in love with her too. But that wasn't going to happen unless she took a risk.

  Preston paced.

  It was nearly eleven o'clock in the morning, and the small room off the front of the Congregational church was airless and much too warm. He could feel sweat starting to drip down the back of his tuxedo shirt.

  He could hear the sounds of helicopters circling overhead, poised and ready to get aerial footage of the Most Eligible Bachelor of the Year and his bride leaving the church, newly married. Or so the world would think.

  The door opened and Dominic stuck his head inside.

  "Molly's arrived," he said. "She's in the back of the church. You should go out to the altar soon and get this show on the road, or she's going to be blinded from all those flashbulbs going off in her face."

  Pres nodded. Get this show on the road. He ran a comb through his hair one last time, adjusted his bow tie in the mirror, and taking a deep breath, stepped out into the church.

  It wasn't a big church, and it was jammed full of news cameras and reporters, curious spectators, and even some friends. And right now they were all staring directly at him.

  "It's not real," Dominic murmured into Pres's ear. "Just keep telling yourself that it's not real."

  But that was the problem. It wasn't real. "I can't do this." Pres turned to look at Dom.

  "Whoa." Dom put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Just take a couple of nice, deep breaths and—"

  The organist began to play the notes of the bridal processional. There was a flurry of movement at the back of the church as the doors opened. Then Molly appeared in the doorway, dressed in an ornate white gown, a light veil over her face. She looked incredible, and Pres felt his heart turn a slow somersault in his chest. But this wasn't real. This was only make-believe. And that wasn't good enough.

  "I can't do this," he said again, and breaking free from Dom's grasp, he headed quickly down the aisle, toward Molly.

  There was a murmur of surprise from the crowd, mirrored by the look on Molly's face.

  "Excuse us for a minute," Pres said to the cameras, and shut the doors tightly behind him.

  "Pres, what are you doing . . . ?"

  He grabbed Molly's hand and tugged her toward the stairs that led down to the church vestry. It wasn't until they were in the tiled room with the door shut behind them that Pres spoke.

  "I'm sorry, but I just can't do this."

  She pushed the veil back, off of her face. "But if your friend from that New York PR agency is right, once we do this, we'll be left alone."

  "I can't pretend to marry you," he told her. "I can't stand there and say those words."

  "It's just a role we have to play. An act. That's what you told me, remember? You said it's just something that we have to do. It's not real."

  "But that's just it." He started to pace again, but stopped himself. "Molly, I want it to be real." She was staring at him as if he were spouting gibberish.

  "I can't pretend to marry you, because I want to marry you."

  Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted in an expression of sheer astonishment. Whatever she'd expected him to say, it wasn't this.

  "I've wanted to marry you nearly from the start," he continued, "but I was so busy trying not to make the same damned mistake with you that I made with Merrilee, that I nearly blew it. I was trying to take my time, trying not to be impulsive, trying to keep history from repeating itself. But the fact is, you're not Merrilee. You're not Merrilee, and I'm not Chuck, and we could really make this thing between us work. I know there are no guarantees, but just the same, it has to be worth the risk."

  It had come to him like a lightning bolt the night before. He had been urging Molly to take a risk, not to be weighed down by mistakes she'd made in the past, when it suddenly occurred to him that he could use a healthy dose of his own advice.

  So much of his relationship with Molly had reminded him of his first marriage. So many things were similar, including his desire to establish a permanent relationship after only a very short amount of time. But at the same time so much was different. Molly wasn't Merrilee.

  "I wanted to ask you to marry me the night we made love," he told her. "And I should have. I should have trusted myself. Instead I got spooked and tried to figure it all out. And of course, I couldn't. I was afraid if I opened my mouth I'd tell you that I loved you and I'd beg you to marry me. I thought that was the wrong thing to do, but I know now it wasn't. It was right. It is right."

  Molly was still silent, just watching him, so Pres took a deep breath and kept going. "I know I'm . . . less than adequate when it comes to opening up about the way I feel, but if you'll give me a chance, and maybe a little help, I swear to God above, I'll try. . . ."

  She laughed, a short, sharp sound, rather like a hiccup. "You seem to be doing just fine today."

  He took her hand. "Marry me, Molly. For real."

  "You love me?" There were tears in her eyes. "You really love me?"

  "More than I'll ever be able to tell you."

  Molly couldn't speak. She turned away, and Pres felt a wave of panic. She'd turned away even though he'd told her everything he possibly could and—

  "I didn't tell you the truth about that dream of mine," he said. "You know, the really hokey one?"

  She turned back to look at him. "I know."

  This time Pres didn't hesitate. "I want kids. I want to be a dad. A real, round-the-clock, hands-on dad."

  Molly couldn't believe what she was hearing. She laughed, but he held up his hand.

  "There's more. I want to have a whole pack of kids," he told her, "and be their little-league coach and teach them to dive and fish and sail and read, and to be there for them for the rest of their lives."

  His dream was to have children. Who would've thought . . . ?

  "I hadn't thought about it in a while," Pres admitted, "but these past few weeks, hanging out with Zander . . . it felt good, Molly. It reminded me of what I've always wanted."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" She took his hands. "That night . . . you should have told me the truth. . . ."

  "I couldn't," he said simply. "How could I talk about having kids with you? Number one, I was afraid of scaring you off. Number two, I was afraid I'd suddenly blurt out a marriage proposal. I was afraid if I started talking I might tell you that while we were making love I was wishing we could have been making a baby. I thought that talking about babies might've been a rather strong hint that I'd already started thinking in terms of forever."

  Forever.

  "
Say something," he said. He was oddly, sweetly nervous.

  "I don't know what to say."

  "Say you'll marry me. Say that you and Zander and I, we can become a family. Say you love me, too, even though I'm not perfect..."

  There was a knock on the door. "Everything okay in there?" Dominic's voice called out.

  Pres looked at Molly. "Is everything okay in here?"

  She felt off balance and giddy, light-headed and dizzy. But everything was more okay than it had been in a long, long, long time. "Yes," she called out. "Everything's okay. And yes, I'll marry you," she added much more softly.

  Pres kissed her, a slow, deep kiss that promised her that forever.

  "Hey," Dominic said, slipping in through the door. "You're not supposed to do that until after the pastor says you can."

  The wedding. They were supposed to be up in that church right now, exchanging make-believe wedding vows.

  "Sorry to interrupt, Pres," Dom continued, "but Ben Sullivan's here and he's insisting that he gets a chance to talk to you before the ceremony starts."

  The door opened and a sandy-haired man in a cowboy hat poked his head into the room.

  "What's up, Ben?" Pres asked. "Come on in and meet Molly Cassidy. Molly, Ben's my attorney."

  "Thank heavens I got here in time." Ben closed the door behind him, taking off his hat as he came into the room. "Prenupts," he said. "I know this is all a sham, but the fact that this is a church, and the pastor is a real man of God, gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can't let you do this without signing a prenuptial agreement." He opened his briefcase and took several documents out.

  But Pres was already shaking his head. "The only agreement I need drawn up is a document stating the Kirk Estate is going to remain in Molly's name only. Ben, can you do that for me right away?"

  Ben Sullivan blinked. "But . . ."

  Pres turned to Dominic. "I need the jet ready to go. Please, do me a favor and tell the pilot to file a flight plan to Las Vegas? Molly and I are getting married."

  "Today?" Molly laughed in disbelief.

  He kissed her again. "We'll go upstairs and have a practice run, then go do the real thing. We have to go to VIegas, or wait for the marriage license. I say Vegas and I say today. What do you say?"

  Yes. She wanted to say yes. "I need to talk to Zander first. . . ."

  Dominic headed for the door. "I'll get the kid."

  "He's going to be all for this," Pres told her. "He's wanted you and me to get together right from the start."

  "I'll get right to work on that document," Ben said, opening the door. "Have Dominic call me with your flight plans, and I'll bring it over to the airport—you can sign it there. Although as your attorney, I have to advise you to negotiate a prenuptial agreement with—"

  "Thank you, Ben, you've done your job," Pres interrupted. "I'll consider myself advised and—"

  "I want to sign a prenupt," Molly interjected. She gazed at Pres. "I don't want your money. Lord, this is all happening so fast. . . ."

  "The money is part of who I am," he said quietly. "It's kind of a package deal."

  "I don't want there to be any confusion," she said just as quietly. "Or outside speculation. There are lots of people watching us right now, Pres. I want them to know that I'm marrying you because I love you."

  Pres nodded, turning abruptly to Ben. "Bring both agreements."

  Ben went out the door just as Zander barreled inside. "Mom! Dom told me you and Pres were really gonna get married! That is so cooll"

  Pres looked at Molly and smiled. "I think that's a stamp of approval."

  She hugged Zander as she smiled back at Pres.

  "Let's do it," he said. "One time for the cameras, and one time for ourselves."

  "Both times for ourselves," Molly corrected him. "Just think of all the great wedding photos we're going to have."

  Pres laughed. And kissed the bride.

  EPILOGUE

  Molly pushed the dinghy away from the side of the yacht, setting the oars in the oarlocks. She started to row with smooth, sure movements.

  "Don't stand up," she gently warned Jeremiah, who sat facing her in the stern of the boat.

  Her two-year-old son wore a bright yellow life vest—but only because he wasn't allowed to be on the boat without one. Like his father, he loved the water. And like his father, he was fearless.

  Jeremiah's reddish-gold hair reflected the rays of the warm Caribbean sun as he searched the surface of the azure water for the telltale bubbles that would mark Preston and Zander's location. When he spotted them, he stood up excitedly.

  "There Zander!" he cried, nearly leaping over the side of the little boat. "There Daddy! Ina water! Ina water!"

  Molly grabbed hold of Jeremiah's sturdy little body, and he gave her a quick, excited hug. "There Zander!" he said again. "Cooba divin' 'n a mask 'n fwippers!"

  Jeremiah pulled away from Molly and sat with a thud on the bottom of the boat to pull on his own flippers.

  Sure enough, Zander broke the surface some distance away. He saw the dinghy almost immediately, and touched the top of his head twice—the scuba diver's signal that everything was okay. Pres was right behind him.

  Jeremiah pulled himself up and immediately began signing furiously to Zander. "Wanna swim to Zander!" His words echoed the movements of his hands. "Wanna swim ina water like Zander!"

  Zander lifted his hands and signed back to his little brother, telling him to swim to the yacht. He knew he had to get his tank and diving gear off before he could play with the toddler.

  "Mommy, Mommy," Jeremiah singsonged. "Wanna swim ina water! Hi, Daddy! Hi, Daddy!"

  "Hey, fish-kid." Pres held on to the side of the dinghy as he slipped off his mask and smiled up at Molly and their son.

  "What's the magic word?" Molly asked Jeremiah.

  "Pwease! Pwease!"

  "No climbing on Zander until he gets his gear off," Molly reminded the little boy.

  With a splash, Jeremiah was over the side and swimming like a fish back toward the yacht.

  "Morning, sleepyhead." Pres lifted himself up and Molly leaned down for a kiss.

  His lips were cool and soft. She kissed him again, lingering this time.

  "Hmmm," Pres said, his eyes a familiar shade of heated green. "Maybe I should've stayed in bed with you this morning."

  "You promised Z you'd dive with him at the crack of dawn."

  "I did. I thought you did too."

  Molly smiled. "I only said maybe. The crack of dawn and I aren't getting along too well these days."

  Back at the yacht, Randy and Dave, two of Pres's crew, had helped Zander out of his diving gear. With a splash, Zander went back into the water where Jeremiah was still paddling around.

  "We didn't stay down for long, thinking you might want to dive with me this afternoon." Pres grinned at the sound of his small son's excited squealing. "Zander even volunteered to baby-sit."

  But Molly shook her head. "I'm not going to do any diving this trip," she told her husband. "In fact, I think it's going to be at least another eight months before I dive again."

  She watched the realization spread across Pres's face.

  "Really?" he breathed.

  "I did a home pregnancy test this morning. We're going to have another baby." She couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face.

  But the wonder and awe in his eyes was instantly replaced by concern. "But you said you wanted to wait until after you finished the revisions on your book and—"

  Molly kissed Pres again. "I'll get the work done somehow." She smiled at him. "You can take Jeremiah into work with you more often."

  "I will. Zander too." Pres touched the side of her face. "God, I love you, Mol."

  "Sometimes the best things in life arrive unexpectedly," Molly said softly, looking down into the warm green eyes of one of the best things that had ever arrived unexpectedly into her life.

  "Is it too soon to tell the kids?" Pres asked, his face alight with excitement.
/>   Molly shook her head no.

  Pres swam for the yacht, pulling the dinghy along behind him. "Hey, guys! Hey, Zander! Yo, Jerry! The word for the day is baby!"