Married by Mistake

by Abby Gaines

  Eloise gave a decidedly unladylike snort. “I’ll bet she has no such thing.”

  “Who made the statement?” Casey asked.

  The lawyer’s eyes widened, as if he hadn’t anticipated what was surely an obvious question. Yet more evidence he didn’t think straight when Eloise was around. He shot a pleading look at Adam. “We should continue this discussion tomorrow.”

  “We want to know now,” Eloise said.

  Adam nodded at Sam to continue. The attorney closed his eyes as if in pain. “The statement is from one of the nonfamily directors of Carmichael Broadcasting. He had a conversation with another director, in which that director expressed a firm opinion that James Carmichael had lost his mind.”

  “Which other director?” Adam and Eloise demanded simultaneously.

  Sam slumped in his seat and raised his hands, conceding defeat to the forces ranged against him.

  “It was you, Adam.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS CASEY AND ELOISE stared at Adam, a flash of white light blinded them.

  “Thanks, folks.” A photographer, a man Casey recognized from the crowd who’d gathered at the TV studio after their wedding, slipped his camera back into its case. “Enjoy your meal.”

  Lunch pretty much fell apart after that.

  Adam began to deny the accusation, then he went beet-red and clammed up.

  Eloise’s eyes filled with hurt. She stood up. “I can ignore Anna May’s poison—that woman’s always been a fool. But, Adam, for you to say such a thing about your father, a man who, whatever you may think, loved you. The finest, most intelligent man I’ve known...” She stopped, and Casey saw her throat working with emotion. “That is a betrayal.” She slipped her purse off the back of her chair, then asked a passing waiter to bring her coat. “Thank you for lunch,” she said with her usual good manners, “but I plan to take a taxi home.”

  The other two Merry Widows glared at Adam—extending their hostility to encompass Casey by association—with a ferocity that made Casey hope neither of them was packing a weapon.

  Sam sprang to his feet. “Eloise, how can I help you? You shouldn’t be alone if you’re upset. I can take you—”

  Eloise gave him a look that said he’d done enough, and stalked out of the restaurant.

  Celeste and Beth left with her, while Adam settled the bill. Casey followed him outside, where the valet reluctantly relinquished the newly repaired Aston Martin.

  Adam pulled out into the traffic with a screech of tires. From the passenger seat, Casey cast him a sidelong glance. A frown darkened his face, and his chin jutted forward.

  “What?” he demanded.

  She spread her hands. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to,” he grumbled. “I can see you think I’m a prize jerk.”

  “You’re certainly a contender,” she agreed. “But right now I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

  He managed a half smile. “Thanks, but it’s more than I deserve. I did tell John Hanson I thought Dad had lost his marbles. Years ago, a few months before the heart attack.”

  The self-recrimination in his eyes gave Casey the urge to comfort her husband, to wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be all right. Instead, she said, “Did you mean it?”

  Adam shook his head, then nodded. “In a heat-of-the-moment way. I’d just found out Carmichael Broadcasting’s accountant had been embezzling funds. It seemed Dad had lost touch with reality when he married Eloise. The business was on the brink of disaster, and I vented to John Hanson. Big mistake.”

  “No judge will accept a one-off remark as evidence your father was insane,” Casey said.

  Adam grimaced. “There was one other occasion. At the reading of Dad’s will, when I heard about that marriage clause, I did say something along the lines of, ‘He must have been nuts.’ Eloise didn’t take it well at the time. Anna May was there, too. I’m sure she’ll remember.”

  “But still,” Casey persisted, “it’s not exactly expert psychiatric testimony.”

  “Which we can’t get, now that Dad’s dead,” he pointed out. “Maybe what I said isn’t enough. But maybe we’ll get a judge who agrees that what Dad did was crazy, and he’ll order a full hearing.”

  Adam stopped at a red light. To think his own careless remark had fueled Anna May’s case. His foot tapped the brake.

  “You made a mistake,” Casey said. “But you’ll get past it.”

  He turned to face her, found her expression full of sympathy. Casey was on his side, without reservation. She reached across to squeeze his hand on the steering wheel—only it felt more as if she’d squeezed all the air out of his lungs. She snatched her hand back, but not before Adam had seen the flare of desire in her eyes—one that matched his own.

  “It might hurt Eloise less if you call to apologize,” she said.

  Damn if she hadn’t tapped into the vein of guilt he tried to pretend didn’t exist. Adam didn’t need this. “What are you, my wife?”

  She snickered, her cheek dimpling, and Adam found himself saying, “I’ll think about it.”

  * * *

  IT WAS UNUSUAL for Brodie-Ann to take a day off work just so she could drive up to Memphis and have lunch with Casey.

  When Casey got to the downtown bistro where they’d agreed to meet on Tuesday, the woman who would spill the contents of her soul at the slightest urging shied away from Casey’s questions, deflecting the conversation at their courtyard table to news of what was going on in Parkvale.

  “I saw your sister out with the baby last week,” Brodie-Ann said.

  “How were they?” Casey asked over a lump in her throat. She missed her family, even if she didn’t want to be back with them.

  “We chatted for a few minutes, then Karen got teary.”

  Casey chewed her lip. “Maybe I should call her tonight.”

  “She didn’t seem too bad,” Brodie-Ann assured her. “It might have just been new-mom hormones.”

  It wasn’t until the waiter had set their chicken Caesars in front of them that Brodie-Ann got to what might have been the point of this get-together.

  “Is marriage what you expected?” she asked.

  Casey took a sip of her ice water. “I can’t say I ever thought about what it might be like to be married to a complete stranger who happens to be the cutest guy I ever met, even if he is a little set in his ways.” She put her glass down and turned the question back on Brodie-Ann. “Is marriage what you expected?”

  Her friend ducked the issue. “So you think Adam’s cute, huh?”

  Was Brodie-Ann blind? Could she not see he was gorgeous? Casey bit back the suggestion that her friend have her eyes tested. “Sure I do. He’s a great guy, too.” No point denying it.

  “Does he have you ironing his shirts yet? Taking meals to his dying grandmother? Hosting soirees for important clients?”

  Casey shook her head. “None of the above. He doesn’t need me at all.” Somehow that came out sounding pathetic.

  “That’s great,” Brodie-Ann said uncertainly. “I’ll bet you’re enjoying the break.”

  “Absolutely.” Then why did Casey suddenly feel lost?

  Brodie-Ann glanced at her watch, then said with a strange urgency, “Casey, sweetie, does Adam like you back?”

  “I don’t think so.” Why would he want a woman who had nothing to offer him? This is stupid. For years I’ve wanted to get away from people who only want me for what I can do for them. What was she, a dependence junkie? “Like I told you,” she said, “we’re sticking together until the annulment comes through, that’s all.”

  When the waiter appeared suddenly to top up their water glasses, her friend jumped a mile high.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Casey demanded. “I’ve never seen you so on edge.”

  Brodie-Ann flicked a glance over her shoulder across the crowded courtyard. “Nothing. I thought it was...” She stopped, nibbled on a thumbnail.

  “You’re s
caring me,” Casey said. “I know you didn’t come here for a chat, so tell me what’s going on with you and Steve. Right now.”

  To her shock, Brodie-Ann put her hands over her face, and her shoulders started to shake. Casey dropped her fork and moved around the table to hug her friend. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  Brodie-Ann pulled herself together and wriggled out of Casey’s embrace. “I’m sorry, I’m being silly.” She waved Casey back to her seat and managed a watery smile. “It’s just...it’s not how I thought it would be. I mean, I still adore Steve, but it’s not...” She gulped, on the verge of crying again.

  “What’s he done? Is he mean to you?” Casey half rose from her chair again.

  Brodie-Ann laughed. “Can you imagine Steve being mean to anyone? He’s wonderful. I’m lucky to have him.”

  “But?” Casey prompted.

  “You’ll think I’m so selfish.” Brodie-Ann’s gaze slid away from hers. “Before we were married, Steve was so romantic, he’d do anything for me. Once, he even laid his coat down in a puddle so I could step across, just like that guy did for Queen Elizabeth.”

  Casey looked suitably impressed, though she wouldn’t dream of stepping on a man’s coat, even if he did lay it down for her—she’d only have to launder it afterward. That kind of romantic gesture was all very well, but the kind of guy Casey could love would be one who...

  Who drops my cell phone into a vase when he sees the caller is upsetting me.

  Who listens when I suggest he apologize to his stepmother, then goes and does it. And thanks me afterward.

  Who from the very start of our marriage has made my goals as much a priority as his.

  Casey clapped a hand over her mouth, as if her thoughts might escape.

  I am not falling for Adam Carmichael.

  “Did you even hear what I said?” Brodie-Ann demanded.

  Casey shook her head in mute apology.

  Her friend tutted. “Steve still does those things sometimes, but often as not, I’m the one who’s making sacrifices. And it’s all bigger stuff than walking on coats. It’s giving up my time, my priorities.”

  “Does he give up those things, too?”

  Brodie-Ann nodded glumly. “But he was always good like that. I’m not. I’ve always been about, well, about me,” she said with such honesty that Casey laughed. “I’m horrible, aren’t I?” she said plaintively. “As soon as Steve figures that out, he’ll leave me.”

  “Steve fell in love with the real you,” Casey reminded her. “Yes, you can be demanding. But he loves that. You can also be sweet and generous. He loves that, too. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  Brodie-Ann didn’t reply. But though her lips curved in only the smallest of smiles, her eyes gleamed. Casey fought a twinge of envy.

  “Honey, these things take time,” she said. “You and Steve are made for each other, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have to work at your marriage. That’s a good thing.”

  “I guess.” Her tone wasn’t enthusiastic, but Brodie-Ann looked happier. Then she started chewing her thumbnail again. “Casey, I have a confession.”

  Casey realized the flush on her friend’s face was guilt. “What have you done?”

  “While I was worrying about whether I was right to marry Steve, I started to think about you and Joe. And although the wedding didn’t work out, I wondered if maybe you were right that you should marry someone you know really well.” Brodie-Ann babbled on, getting pinker by the second. “Obviously, I didn’t know that you, uh, liked Adam, so when Joe came to see me last night and asked if he thought he had any chance of getting back with you, and I was having lunch with you today, I, um...”

  A shadow fell across the table, and she stopped.

  “Hello, Casey,” Joe said.

  Her ex-fiancé stood there, handsome in his navy uniform, twisting his cap in his hands.

  “Sorry,” Brodie-Ann murmured. She pushed her chair back. “I’ll let you guys talk.” Before Casey could grab her, she was gone, crossing the courtyard at a pace just short of a run.

  “May I?” Joe sat in Brodie-Ann’s chair without waiting for an answer.

  A clammy heat dampened Casey’s palms, gave her itchy feet. She’d been fine talking to Brodie-Ann about Parkvale, but now, seeing Joe, she felt her old life reaching out to her with long, bony fingers. She wanted to shrink away from him and sprint after her friend.

  “I should have called you.” Joe read the reluctance in her face. “But after what I did, I wasn’t sure you’d talk to me. I had to tell you how sorry I am.”

  An apology? That’s why he was here? Not to get back together with her? The threat receded, and Casey’s relief came out as a shaky laugh. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have tricked you into going to the TV studio. It was humiliating for both of us.” She smiled wryly. “Although you might have told me sooner that you didn’t love me.”

  Joe grabbed her hand across the table, leaning forward so his eyes gazed directly into hers.

  “It wasn’t true. You’ve always been my girl, Casey, since we were eighteen years old.” Urgency raised the pitch of his voice. “I panicked, I made a mistake. But you and I are perfect together. Come back to me, Casey.”

  She tried to tug her hand away, but he wouldn’t let go, and it felt as if all of Parkvale was pulling on her in a tug-of-war. “Joe, it’s over between us. It’s too late.”

  He came around the table and hunkered down in front of her, grasping her knees. “How can it be too late?” he demanded. “A couple of weeks ago you were all set to marry me—so you can’t tell me your marriage to this Carmichael guy is the real deal. In your heart, where it matters, nothing’s changed at all.” He gave her knees a shake to emphasize his point.

  Mindful of the curious onlookers at nearby tables, Casey lowered her voice. “Joe, what you did in that TV studio was the exact opposite of chickening out. Until then, you and I were both prepared to settle for something comfortable, a marriage we knew we could live with, rather than risk not finding someone we truly love. You were the one who was brave enough to say that wasn’t right.”

  “It’s not like that.” Confusion clouded Joe’s face. “I do love you, Casey, and I need you. You’re the only woman for me. Wherever you want to go, whatever I have to do to make this work, I’ll do it.”

  Coming on the heels of her realization that Adam didn’t need her, Joe’s words soothed her spirit like a comforting, even tempting, balm. Casey didn’t doubt Joe loved her. She shut her eyes, imagined Adam was here. He’d be mouthing, Tough love, holding her hand tight, pulling her away.

  But Adam wasn’t here. She had to do this on her own.

  She opened her eyes.

  “I’m not coming back, Joe. What you and I had isn’t enough for me, and it shouldn’t be enough for you.”

  It took another few minutes to convince him, but at last he left Casey alone with the remains of her lunch. Exhausted, she gulped down her water, patted some of the cool droplets from the rim of the glass on her temples.

  She’d actively severed her ties to her family and to Joe.

  She was the temporary houseguest of a man who didn’t need her.

  She felt as if she’d cast herself adrift.

  * * *

  CASEY COULDN’T SETTLE back into her work that afternoon, so she headed out into the garden and busied herself dead-heading the flowering shrubs that grew against the wall between Adam’s house and his neighbor’s. The work was calming and satisfying, though what Adam’s gardener would make of it on his next monthly visit she couldn’t be sure.

  “Hello there.” A voice from above startled her out of her absorption in a camellia bush.

  An elderly gentleman peered over the wall, his wrinkled face and blue eyes visible beneath the peak of his orange baseball cap. He had to be standing on a ladder—the wall was about seven feet high. “I’m Bob Harvey,” he said.

  Casey straightened and pushed her hair back off her perspiring forehead. “Ca
sey Gr-Carmichael,” she replied.

  “You must be one of the newlyweds. I saw you on TV.”

  She nodded.

  “I don’t think I’ve met your husband.”

  “He’s very busy with work.”

  He nodded. “Thought that might be it. What about you, do you work?”

  Casey ended up spending a pleasant half hour in conversation with Bob. She was still in the garden when Adam came home, late, around eight.

  The first clue she had of his arrival was the appearance of his polished black shoes in front of her as she weeded around the base of the sundial.

  “You know you don’t have to work in the yard.” He sounded annoyed.

  She looked up. With the sun low in the sky behind him, his face was in shadow. “I’m doing this for relaxation. Sue left a crab salad for dinner if you’re hungry.”

  “Maybe later.” His tone more friendly, he said, “If you’re ready to stop relaxing, how about a drink?”

  She smiled. “Sure, I’ll just finish up here.”

  By the time she’d stowed her tools in the shed and washed her hands, Adam had surprised her by setting up drinks on the back porch. He stood waiting for her, two glasses of chilled white wine on the wrought-iron table. He looked tired, his eyes shadowed, lines visible at the corners of his mouth. He’d been putting in long hours with Sam, working on their legal case, as well as running Carmichael Broadcasting.

  Casey sat on the swing seat and patted the space next to her. “If we sit here we’ll see the sunset.”

  He smiled faintly as he settled beside her. “I wouldn’t want to miss that.”

  Casey leaned back and took a sip of her wine. With her foot, she pushed off the ground and set the swing gently rocking. “I met one of your neighbors today. Bob Harvey.”

  Adam put one foot down. The swing stopped. “I thought I said no neighbors.”

  “He stuck his head over the wall while I was gardening. I couldn’t ignore him.”

  Adam looked skeptical. “And when are he and Mrs. Harvey coming for dinner?”

  She chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”