Bree reached across the counter and grasped her mother’s hand. “I think this could be really good. For all of us.”
Her mother’s eyes widened in horror. “Don’t do this for our benefit.”
“Okay. I won’t. I’ll just live here. For-ev-er.”
The corner of Bev’s mouth quirked upward on one side. “Sheesh. No need to go to extremes.”
They sat there smiling at each other, enjoying the moment. Until Bree picked up the cordless phone. “Guess there’s no time like the present,” she said, dialing the only other phone number she knew from memory as she made her way back upstairs.
THE HOUSE PHONE rang and Danny walked into the kitchen where the thirty-year-old Slimline was still mounted on the wall. Fairly certain it was Bree on the other end, he waited until his brother wandered out the back door then lifted the phone from its cradle. She was off and running before he could even say hello.
“I feel there needs to be some ground rules,” she began.
“And those would be?”
Danny made use of the overstretched spiral phone cord and sat down at the kitchen table. Might as well get comfortable. This was probably going to take a while. Bree had always been more of a planner than a fly-by-the-seat-of-her-pants kind of gal.
“Just because I’m going to be your wife on paper and we’re living together doesn’t mean I’m your indentured servant. Or anything else, for that matter.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“But I am willing to help out since it’s the least I can do. Like grocery shopping. Of course, I’d need to borrow your car.”
“You don’t have a car?” No wonder she felt held captive here.
“I turned it back in when the lease expired. Is that a problem?”
“No, not really.” He could always hitch a ride with Mike or one of the guys. “Next item.” Undoubtedly, she’d made a list of demands or house rules, whatever she was calling it. If he could hazard a guess, living with Bree would likely have more restrictions than he’d ever had while living in the barracks. At least she was prettier. And smelled better.
“I don’t mind washing your stuff if I’m doing laundry, but I don’t iron and I’m not folding your boxers or briefs or whatever the hell you wear.”
“Not a problem since I don’t wear any.”
“I swear,” she huffed in exasperation, “you’re still such a pain in the butt. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
“You love it and you know it.”
Only when he was met with silence did he consider his words. He said them more out of old habits than really believing it to be true. Amazing how things like that come back so quickly. Danny cleared his throat then tried to restart the conversation. “What else is on that list of yours?” He heard the shuffle of papers in the background and chuckled to himself. She really did have a damn list.
“I’m not going to pick up after you or clean up your messes. And as far as the toilet goes, I’m just a glorified guest. So you clean it.”
No sweat off his brow. Like he’d never cleaned a toilet while in the army. During basic training, the US government taught him to scrub a latrine to a sparkling shine using only a toothbrush. “Fine. I’ll clean the toilet. But I get to leave the seat up.”
“On second thought—”
“Nope. No take backs. I get to leave the seat up.” She swore and he chuckled. Who knew negotiations with Bree could be so much fun? He waited for the next demand.
She cleared her throat. “What will the sleeping arrangements be?”
Now this was getting good. “What do you mean? Like right side, left side or top and bottom? Because to tell the truth, sweetheart, any which way works for me.”
“Oh, God. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, after all.”
He always did love to poke the crazy with her. “I’m just teasing you, Bree. Of course you can have the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
Even as the words escaped his mouth, he regretted them. If he had one prized possession, it was his bed. His big, fluffy “girlie” bed as his brother called it. With a super-thick pillow top and feather down pillows, it was like sleeping on a cloud. And he didn’t give a shit if it wasn’t considered manly.
“That’s very generous of you. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Any other questions? Concerns?”
Who knew what else was on that list of hers. Whether or not she was gutsy enough to demand it remained to be seen.
“None that I can think of at the moment,” she answered. “But I reserve the right to revisit this discussion.”
“Got it. Do I get to set some ground rules?”
“Go for it.”
“I just want to make it clear the army is my life now and this marriage is just a temporary solution. Anything related to my work is my decision alone. You don’t get a say.”
“Fine. Whatever. So we’re really doing this?”
“Yep. I’ll call the courthouse to find out what the procedures are and get back with you.”
She hung up the phone, leaving him with their conversation replaying in his head. Just like she’d said, it sounded so very cold, businesslike. No hearts and flowers. No romantic declarations. Probably not what his mother had wished for him—for the two of them—but it was what it was. Still, he couldn’t shake the idea of his mother looking down from heaven and enjoying the hell out of the show.
Danny headed out back to the screened porch where his father and brother were trading stories. Leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb he listened to their conversation as they rehashed their day on the golf course. His brother glanced once in his direction then did a double-take, stopping in midsentence.
“What the hell are you smiling about?”
He hadn’t realized he was, but there was no denying it. He’d probably been standing there the entire time with a grin on his face. Danny dropped into an empty deck chair and pulled a beer from the cooler. He twisted the cap off then tapped the longneck against the one Mike held in his hand.
“Congratulate me, big brother,” he said, raising his bottle for a toast. “I’m getting married.”
Chapter Five
DANNY STOOD IN front of the bathroom mirror, fumbling with the silk tie he’d bought the day before. First he tied it too short, then too long. Then the knot somehow ended up being the size of his fist. He took a steadying breath, let it all out as he shook his hands, the blood rushing back to his fingertips.
Why the hell was he so anxious? It wasn’t as if this was a real wedding.
Well, it was real. Papers signed, sealed and delivered by the power vested in a county judge. But beyond that, the entire arrangement was a total sham. And yet he found himself deeply afraid of disappointing Bree. Again.
Hence, the new tie. And suit and dress shirt. Not to mention shoes. He dropped a small fortune to buy an outfit he’d likely wear only once and for a couple of hours at best.
Danny continued with his tie. Over. Over. Around.
What if she wears jeans and a T-shirt?
He paused. Surely not.
He completed the half-Windsor and again it looked like shit, which was ridiculous considering all the practice he’d had tying knots. During trainings and missions, his belongings were tethered to his person using 550 para cord, especially when bailing out the side door of a C–17. He could tie knots in the pitch-black, practically in his sleep. And yet, today of all days, he couldn’t make a presentable looking half Windsor with a silk tie.
“To hell with this.”
He unknotted it and in one swift motion pulled the fabric from beneath his collar then unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt. All the better. A tie had a way of making everything a little more formal. The last thing he wanted was to give the impression this marriage was anything more than a short-term solution.
/> “Daniel.” His father stood in the doorway. “Come with me,” he motioned before heading in the opposite direction.
He obediently followed his father through the house, down the darkened hallway to his parents’ room. Mac flicked the switch by the door, instantly bathing the room in a dull, yellow light. Without so much as looking at Danny, he pointed to the foot end of the bed, silently ordering him to have a seat before he disappeared into the closet.
Danny sat on the threadbare comforter, the same one that had covered the bed since he was a child. Although his father had added a few things to the house over the years, most everything remained unchanged from the time of his mother’s death. Walls had been repainted but always in the same color. Every picture, every painting, returned to its original hanging place. His parents’ wedding photo sat atop the bureau. His mother’s photo sat on the bedside table. A husband’s way of honoring the wife he loved so dearly and lost far too soon.
“Hold out your hand.”
He did as instructed and his father grasped Daniel’s hand between both of his. It took a moment to register the press of metal against his palm. His already nervous stomach turned.
“Dad.” Danny shook his head. Even attempted to pull his hand free from his father’s grip. “No. Absolutely not. I cannot take Mom’s wedding ring.”
“Hear me out first.” His father sat beside him on the bed, still clutching Danny’s hand between his. “I know you say you’re only doing this to help Aubrey out from between a rock and a hard place. That’s commendable. Everyone should have as good a friend as you. But whether this marriage is for the short term or the long haul, one thing is for certain—you love this girl.”
“Dad . . .” His throat tightened, making breathing difficult and words impossible. How did he know that he still loved Bree? That he always had? Was it so obvious? Despite all the mistakes and bad decisions and straight-up idiotic behavior, the countless one-night stands and weekend flings.
“As a matter of fact, we all love her. Even your mother loved her.” Tears shimmered in his father’s eyes. “I’d like to think I knew your mom pretty well and I’m absolutely certain she would want Aubrey to have it.”
He knew his dad was right, but his mother’s ring represented so many memories, promises. So many expectations for the future. Suddenly, Danny feared failing not only Bree, but his mother, as well.
“We’re getting married at the county courthouse. In front of a judge. That’s not the kind of place—”
Mac held up a hand, silencing him. “Where you get married doesn’t matter. It’s what’s in your heart that matters. I might not have told you this enough but you’re a good man, Daniel. I’m proud of you. And your mother would be, as well. All I ask is that you treat Aubrey right. Be the man we all know you are deep down inside. You never know what the fates have planned. Maybe this marriage was meant to be all along.”
He had to smile at that. Never in his entire life had he heard his father speak in such a way. He was damn near waxing poetic.
“Mac MacGregor. The romantic.”
“My boy,” he said, slapping Danny’s back, “I’ve always been a romantic. Sadly, you were too young to remember. I wooed your mother even long after we were married. That woman had me wrapped around her slender finger,” he said, holding up his pinky to demonstrate. “And I loved every minute of it.”
The earlier sadness had passed, replaced by a twinkle in his father’s eyes.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
Mac laughed. “Oh, you better believe it. Raising you boys didn’t leave much time for me to go on and on about my love for your mother, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Besides, for the last decade when I’ve seen you two, the conversation has been about blowing stuff up, shooting stuff, or who had the worst case of trench foot. Doesn’t really lend itself to hearts and flowers, if you know what I mean.”
He smiled at his father, but only for a moment. “Does Mike know about the ring? Can’t imagine he’d be too thrilled about this.”
From the moment Danny shared the news he and Bree were getting married, Mike had made it quite clear he was completely against the idea, although he never gave specific reasons as to why.
“Worry about Bree, not your brother. You two will be just fine.”
They rose from the bed simultaneously and Danny held the ring up between them. “Thank you for this. It means a lot.”
His father pulled him into an embrace, arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding him tight for one moment longer. A kiss on the cheek and two slaps to the back later, he released him. “Get on out of here. Your girl is waiting.”
Holding the gold band between forefinger and thumb, Danny gave his father a little salute and headed for the door.
THE DOORBELL RANG just before nine and immediately the butterflies took flight in her stomach. Only thirty-six hours had passed since she’d agreed to this crazy, hatched-up scheme of his, which could only mean she was as insane as he was. Quite the pairing they made.
A few moments later her mother appeared in her doorway. “Danny’s here.”
“I’ll be down in a second,” she said while slipping on her heels.
Bree took one last look in the mirror and hoped she’d made the right decision. Living with Danny, being his wife, what would that mean, really? After all, she hadn’t liked him very much for the past decade. Definitely never had happy thoughts about him. Tried her damnedest to hate him. But even after all this time apart, he could still make her smile, make her laugh. Make her crazy in a good way, it seemed. To suddenly be in each other’s personal space on an almost daily basis . . . could she handle it?
More important, would her heart survive it when all was said and done?
Then there was not only the uncertainty about the marriage, but also about what to wear for her nuptials. Unfortunately, every wedding website she found lacked advice on “what to wear for a marriage of convenience.” Surprising, since the internet seemed to have an opinion on almost everything. After spending way too long surfing, she came to the conclusion that for this particular occasion she was on her own.
So she made up her own rules. Which meant anything white, anything remotely bridal, was out of the question. As was black. She and Danny might be marrying for the wrong reasons but there was no need to be morbid about it. Strewn across her bed was everything else in her wardrobe that didn’t fall into either of those two categories. She finally settled on a blush pink sheath dress with lace overlay. One she’d always loved but never had much occasion to wear.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get married in the church? I’m sure Father Bryant would be willing to perform the ceremony even on such short notice.”
“Mom,” she said sharply. “No church.”
It wasn’t that she was against religion or being married in a church. It had more to do with the memory of waking up from surgery to see Father Bryant, eyes closed, Bible in hand, rosary beads dangling from his fingers while praying over her bed. There are those who would find comfort from the gesture. Unfortunately for her, she couldn’t shake the feeling of last rites. Going into surgery that morning she understood the long battle in front of her, but she was far from dying. Then Bree woke up to a prayer vigil and for one brief moment wondered if they were already digging her grave.
“What about the beach? The backyard?” Bree cut her eyes at her mother, but the woman refused to take the hint. “Anywhere but a courthouse,” her mother continued. “It might be . . .”
Although she didn’t say them aloud, her unspoken words whispered through the room—it might be the only wedding you ever have.
Bree looked at her mother, saw the heartbreak in her eyes. No grand wedding. No large celebration with friends and family. Her dreams of a day to remember replaced with a quickie set of “I dos” at the county courthouse. Since witnesses weren’t required,
she and Danny had decided to forgo an audience.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” She hugged her mother close. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.”
“I just want what’s best for you. If you think Danny will be the one to give it to you—”
She raised a hand to stop any wrong ideas before they steamrolled into something bigger.
“You know what this is. Marrying Danny, moving to Savannah, is a short-term fix, not a plan for the long run. It’s not a question of if we will divorce, but when. It’s not the ending you might prefer, but it most definitely is the kickstart I need.”
Her mother nodded in agreement although tears welled in her eyes. Bree didn’t like causing her mother this pain, but she wasn’t about to back out now. This needed to be done. For all of them. Whether that change was for better or worse didn’t really matter to Bree, just as long as her life moved in some direction instead of remaining in idle.
After grabbing her coat from the closet, she headed downstairs to find Danny waiting in the front entryway along with her father. He stood tall, shoulders back, hands clasped behind him with his feet placed shoulder-width apart. The charcoal-gray suit and crisp white shirt did nothing to hide his military background. His posture simply screamed soldier. His hair had been trimmed, the top still damp from the shower. He’d also shaved, his jaw clean and smooth, revealing the faint creases in his cheeks and shallow cleft in his chin. The definition of handsome. Then he caught sight of her, his eyebrows drawing together for just an instant before schooling his expression.
She’d never considered herself a vain person. Even as a teenager she never spent a great deal of time in front of the mirror. But the look on his face told her something was wrong, and panic set in as she ran down a self-evaluating checklist as she eased on her coat.
Matching shoes? Check. Hem tucked in underwear? No. A lipstick situation, perhaps? She ran her tongue across her teeth and swiped at the corners of her mouth. That left one thing. She flicked the ends out from under her collar and smoothed her palms over the long brown strands, discreetly adjusting her wig, although it didn’t feel lopsided to begin with.
Once and For All: An American Valor Novel Page 4