Season for Love

by Marie Force

  “I bet every other guy you’ve been with has an Ivy League education and a Brooks Brothers wardrobe.”

  “Those things don’t matter to me. Not anymore.”

  “I knew it!”

  “So I might’ve had a type in the past. That was then.” She held on tighter to his hand. “This is now. I want you. I want to be with you.”

  “I want you, too, Princess. But I’m not looking for a fling. Been there, done that. I’m ready for something more.”

  “I am, too. That’s what I thought I was getting when I married Justin.”

  “I’m worried that you haven’t given yourself enough time to get over what happened with him.”

  “I remember asking Janey about that when she got involved with Joe so soon after she caught David with someone else. She said when you find out the man you love has been unfaithful, all the love you once felt for him disappears as if you never loved him at all. That’s what happened to her—and it was the same for me. After my friends told me what he’d done, I couldn’t even look at him without feeling sick. All the good feelings were gone, and there’s nothing he could say or do to ever bring them back. They’re gone. I was over him the minute I knew he still wanted other women. Some women can forgive that kind of transgression. I’m not one of them, and neither was Janey.”

  Owen was quiet for a long moment as he thought about what she’d said.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “I want to, but I’ve been around the block enough to know that it’s not always that simple.”

  “Sometimes it’s exactly that simple.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I usually am,” she said with a cocky grin, hoping to lighten the mood. She wished there was something she could say or do to set his mind at ease and let him know he was exactly what she wanted and needed. No one, other than her dear dad, had ever cared more about her than Owen seemed to. She’d never been more in tune with anyone, and she couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them. The thought strengthened her resolve to get through this encounter with Justin and get on with her life with Owen.

  “Thanks for coming with me,” she said as he pulled into a parking space across the street from the restaurant.

  “No problem. I’ll be watching the whole time. If you need me, tug on your earlobe, and I’ll be right there.”

  “You’ve been watching too many spy movies.”

  He stopped her from getting out of the car with a hand to her arm. “Promise me you’ll do it if you need me.”

  Because he seemed to need it, she nodded. “I promise.”

  “Whatever happens, it’s nothing you can’t handle. Remember that.”

  “I will. Let’s get this over with.”

  Owen sent her in ahead of him, promising to follow in a minute so they wouldn’t be seen together.

  The maître d’ greeted Laura by name. She’d been called “Mrs. Newsome” only a couple of times before it all went bad. Fortunately, she hadn’t gotten around to legally changing her name. “Your husband is already here. Follow me.”

  “Here we go,” Laura whispered to herself. She held her head up as he led her to Justin’s usual table in the far corner, where he’d once told her he could see everyone in the place. Justin was all about seeing and being seen, which was why he stood up to greet her. She was counting on the fact that the Justin she knew would never be anything other than gracious and polite in public.

  She’d worn the oversized black sweater intentionally so he wouldn’t notice her pregnancy until she was ready to tell him. At the sight of the face she’d once planned to wake up to for the rest of her life, her entire body went on alert against imminent danger. Her reaction to him was so powerful she nearly took a step backward in self-defense. Because he’d never given her the slightest reason to be afraid of him, she forced herself to take the final steps to the table.

  Justin put down the vodka cocktail he’d been nursing and leaned in to kiss her cheek.

  She had to force herself not to cringe or pull away from him as his lips brushed against her skin.

  “It’s good to see you.” He made sure to keep his voice low so the maître d’ wouldn’t hear as the older man settled Laura into her chair and handed her a menu. It occurred to her right then that her back would be to Owen, which only added to her growing anxiety.

  Justin wore one of the custom-made suits he paid a thousand dollars apiece for, with a crisp white shirt and burgundy tie. As always, his dark hair was immaculately styled and his brown eyes were shrewd as he took a long, measuring look at her.

  Laura did her best not to wilt under his intense scrutiny even as she tried to remember what she’d ever seen in him. He’d once been charming and amusing and romantic, with grand gestures she now realized were all for show. It’d been all about wooing Judge Frank McCarthy’s daughter and had nothing at all to do with her. Unfortunately, she’d fallen for his game like a lovesick fool. Being picked up off the bathroom floor after a vicious bout of vomiting was her idea of romance these days.

  “Your server will be right with you,” the maître d’ said.

  “Ask him to give us a few minutes,” Justin said.

  “Of course.”

  The moment they were alone, Justin’s charming smile turned into a satisfied smirk. “I knew you’d come around in time. You’ll be glad to know I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  Laura was stunned. “For what?”

  “Like you don’t know. Let’s start with giving up a primo apartment and having all my stuff sent to my mother. Thanks for that, by the way. I needed to deal with a thousand questions from her like I needed a hole in the head.”

  “I didn’t know where you’re living.”

  “You could’ve asked me.”

  “I didn’t wish to speak to you.”

  “Clearly you’ve changed your mind about that. You’re here, aren’t you?”

  “Only because we have some things we need to discuss.”

  “I’ve already told you there isn’t going to be a divorce, so if that’s why you’re here, you’re wasting my time—and yours.”

  She fought to keep her voice even so he wouldn’t know how upsetting and difficult this was for her. “That’s not the only thing we need to talk about.”

  He sat back in his chair and took a sip of the cocktail, looking arrogant and smug, which put her on even higher alert—if that was possible. “There’s nothing you can tell me that I don’t already know.”

  Laura sat up a little straighter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I know you’re living on Gansett Island, working at the Sand & Surf Hotel. The owners have charged you—someone with absolutely no experience in such things—with the task of restoring that dump. I know you’ve taken up with the big dude with the shaggy hair who’s over there staring daggers at me.” He nodded toward Owen. “A homeless guitar player? Really, Laura? Gone slumming, have you?”

  “He’s worth a thousand of you,” Laura shot back before she could stop herself. Angering him wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  “I get it—you’re paying me back for what you think I did to you, which was nothing, by the way. Great, we’re even. Now it’s time for you to get your ass home and honor your marriage vows.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “I know it’s hard for you to imagine that someone might say no to you, but I’m not coming home—not now or ever. My home is on Gansett, and that’s where I plan to stay.”

  “Even after you have my baby? Were you planning to tell me about that?”

  Laura’s mouth fell open. “How do you… When did you…”

  “There’s nothing a good private investigator can’t find out for the right price.”

  Appalled and horrified to know he’d had her followed, she had to dig deep to recover her composure. “I was going to tell you. That’s why I’m here.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Here’s
how this is going to go. You’re giving up the island, the hotel, the guitar player, the whole thing and coming back where you belong, or I’ll make sure you never see that baby. Your rebellion is over. You’ve made your point.”

  Anger whipped through Laura like a wildfire. “Who the hell do you think you are? You can’t tell me what to do or where to live.”

  He leaned in closer to her, his dark eyes flashing with fury and what might’ve been hurt, not that she cared about that. Not anymore. “I’m your husband, and that’s my kid you’re carrying. At least I think it is.”

  Once again, Laura acted without thinking as her hand connected with his face in a loud slap that had everyone in the place looking at them.

  His face flushed with rage.

  Before he could say a word, she stood and propped her hands on the table, leaning in so he could hear her. “Listen to me, and listen good, you miserable son of a bitch. The biggest mistake I ever made was marrying you. You’ll sign the divorce papers—immediately—or not only will I make sure you never see this kid you’re not sure is yours, I’ll also see to it that my dad does everything within his considerable power to ruin your precious career. Do I make myself clear?”

  As she’d known it would, the threat of Frank McCarthy’s wrath had the color draining from his face.

  “I said, do I make myself clear?”

  He took another sip of his drink and eyed her hatefully. “I’m not surprised you’re already shacked up with someone else. You have no idea how to be without a man. Poor little daddy’s girl can’t be alone for five minutes.”

  Even though his words struck a direct hit to one of her deepest insecurities, she refused to show him that. “Sign the papers, Justin, or we’ll make your life a living hell. I may be a daddy’s girl, but there’s absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for me. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Laura didn’t wait to hear whatever he might have to say to that. For the first time in her life, she didn’t care that she was making a scene that would be talked about for days to come. All she cared about was getting out of there—as quickly as possible. She was aware of Owen getting up from the table he’d occupied and chasing after her, but she didn’t stop moving until she reached the car. With nowhere left to go, she leaned against the car, breathing heavily as her hands began to shake.

  He’d had her followed. He knew about Owen. About the baby. For a brief, horrifying moment, she wondered if she was going to be sick again, right there in the parking lot.

  Owen caught up to her and reached for her.

  She stopped him by putting her hands up. Every nerve in her body was on fire. If he touched her, if anyone touched her, she’d scream.

  “Jesus Christ,” Owen said, his face flushed from running after her. “What the hell did he say?”

  Laura reached for the door handle, fumbling with it, frustrated when it refused to open.

  “Wait, honey. Let me unlock it.” He held the door for her until she was inside before closing it and going around to the driver’s side. “Are you going to talk to me?”

  “Later. Please. Let’s go.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere but here.” She caught a glimpse of Justin emerging from the restaurant in time to watch them drive away. His expression was impassive, but his eyes were sharp as always.

  “I want to know what he said to you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. He’ll sign the papers.”

  “Laura, honey—”

  “I can’t talk about it. I just can’t.” Her mind raced. In addition to having her followed, he’d implied the baby wasn’t his. If it hadn’t been so insulting she might’ve laughed. Except nothing about this was funny. She’d married an egotistical, sadistic asshole. How had she not seen that? Had she been so desperate to be married that she’d failed to notice he was a heartless bastard? The wedding had been only six months ago, but it might as well have been years, for she simply couldn’t remember for the life of her why she’d ever thought she loved him.

  The queasiness returned with a sudden fury. She rolled down the window to let in the cool air, which helped to combat the nausea.

  To his credit, Owen didn’t say a word as he drove them to the Westin. Because it was one of the taller buildings in the city, she didn’t have to tell him how to get there. As he grabbed their overnight bags from the trunk and checked them into the hotel, Laura tagged along like a docile child. Justin’s ugly words about how she couldn’t get by without a man in her life rang through her mind like a refrain from a song that got stuck on replay. Over and over and over again.

  They rode the elevator to the sixth floor in the silence that followed them into the room. When she thought about the plans they’d made for this night, she again felt sick. She went over to the window and stared out at the city she’d called home for most of her life, seeing nothing but the look on Justin’s face when he’d implied that the baby wasn’t his.

  If she were being honest with herself, she’d known about Justin’s mean streak before she married him. She’d known he was capable of doing whatever it took to win on behalf of his clients and had cringed on more than one occasion when he’d laid out his trial strategy to her. “You can’t argue with results,” he’d said proudly when she questioned his tactics. But until he’d aimed it at her, she’d truly had no idea how deep the mean ran or how low he would stoop to advance his agenda.

  Owen came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “What can I do?”

  “I…I need some time to myself.” Her voice wavered, betraying the emotion she was trying so hard to contain. The last thing she wanted was to suck him into the vicious storm of her divorce.

  His hands fell away from her shoulders, his disappointment palpable. “Sure. Whatever you need.”

  As she heard him moving around the room, she hated herself for dragging him on the emotional roller-coaster ride with her. He deserved so much better.

  “I’ll be back in a while,” he said. The hotel door clicked shut behind him as he left the room.

  Laura’s legs gave out under her, and she slid down to the floor, still leaning against the big window with the panoramic view of the city. The baby chose that moment to deliver a resounding kick that broke open the floodgates. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and sobs shook her body.

  Rattled by Laura’s withdrawal, Owen took the elevator to the lobby. He wanted to go find Justin Newsome and beat the shit out of him. But because that wasn’t an option, he withdrew the business card Frank McCarthy had slipped him before they left his house earlier and called the cell number Frank had scrawled on the back.

  “What happened?” Frank asked when he answered.

  “I have no idea. All I know is he said something that made her slap his face.”

  “Is that right? Well, good for her. She should’ve done that a long time ago, if you ask me. So what did he say?”

  “That’s the thing. She won’t tell me. It’s like she’s folded into herself and shut me out. She’s right there, but she’s a million miles away. It’s kind of scary, actually.”

  “Oh no. Damn it. That’s what I was afraid of. She did the same thing when her mother died. Scared the hell out of me. She’d look at me and answer me when I asked her a direct question, but it was almost as if no one was home.”

  “Yes, that’s it. Exactly. When I put my hands on her shoulders, I could tell she was trying not to recoil away from me.”

  “That, too,” Frank said. “Same thing. She couldn’t bear to be touched for weeks after Jo died.”

  “What do we do?” Owen asked with growing desperation.

  “For one thing, it’s time I had a talk with her husband. I’d promised her I’d stay out of it unless she asked me to get involved, but enough is enough.”

  “I agree. If you can get him to sign the divorce papers, I think that would help.”

  “I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, you’ll be with her?”

  “Every min
ute that I can. She wanted some time to herself, so I came down to the lobby.”

  “Don’t leave her alone too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You love her, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Owen said, his voice gruff with emotion and fear and confusion. There was also relief to admit to someone—even her father—that he was in love with Laura. Sometime soon, he hoped he could tell her, too.

  “Good.” Frank sounded relieved. “Don’t give up on her. She’s going through a rough time right now, but we’ll get her through this, and then you two can make some plans.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Based on what Owen had seen since they left the restaurant, he had good reason to fear that nothing was going to work out the way they’d planned.

  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure she gets what she wants,” Frank said. “Will you head back to the island tomorrow?”

  “Yes, we’re on the ten-thirty boat. We’re supposed to go to a party tomorrow night. But after this… I don’t know if she’ll be up for it.”

  “The island is good for her. It always has been. After my wife died, I was so out of my element with two grief-stricken kids on summer vacation. I had to get back to work, but I was torn, needing to be in two places at once, you know?”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “When my brother and Linda offered to take them for the summer, I jumped at the chance to give them some stability and the distraction of five cousins who were about their same age. But I was frightened by Laura’s withdrawal and reluctant to leave her, even for a little while.”

  “What happened?”

  “With Mac and Linda’s support, I gave it two weeks and went out to the island to see them for the weekend. She wasn’t quite back to her old self by any means, but she was better than she’d been. By the end of the summer, she’d come back to us almost all the way. Neither of my kids were ever quite the same after we lost their mom, but I never again saw the scary withdrawal that happened right after.”

  “Until now.”

  “When it happened the first time, the psychologist I consulted with told me it was her coping mechanism. By withdrawing into herself, she could keep the bad stuff out and postpone the emotional firestorm for that much longer.” Frank paused for a moment and softened his tone. “Linda told me they all went out for ice cream one night toward the end of the summer. God bless Mac and Linda. They had seven kids underfoot, but they made that summer so fun for my kids. Anyway, apparently Laura dropped her cone on the ground outside the ice cream shop and broke down. Linda realized she was finally allowing the grief to come out and sent Mac home with the other kids. She and Laura sat on the seawall for two hours while my poor baby cried her heart out.”