The Marriage of Inconvenience

by Nina Singh

  R.J. bit out another oath. He looked up at the ceiling and exhaled slowly, wearily. So much for not being manipulated. He fished his phone out of his pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Shanna asked as the elevator jolted to a stop.

  He started dialing. “I have to call my secretary and tell her my schedule has changed for the next couple of days. Where’s the nearest jewelry store?”

  Shanna’s dark brows lifted over her piercing blue eyes. “Why?”

  “Married people wear rings.”

  * * *

  “That feels good doesn’t it, sweetie? I know it feels good.” Angeline stroked a loving hand over the warm, eager body nestling closer to her.

  “You’ve missed me haven’t you?” Moist, soft eyes looked back at her with enthusiasm. Here was total acceptance, unconditional love. Right now it was exactly what she needed.

  “I saw him again today, you know,” she continued.

  A knowing grunt responded.

  “He came back, Max. He came back and he’s going to do it.” She stopped and took a deep sigh. “I didn’t want him to know about the women. He wasn’t supposed to want to do it because of them. But he knows now, and he’s going to help.”

  The brown eyes staring at her started to droop with sleepiness. “Anyway, he did that thing he always does, where he just sort of takes command and handles all the details with efficiency and haste. He studied all the sales projections and started doing some research on Mondolavia. The whole office was eating out of his hand.” She frowned. “Especially my female crew. They couldn’t do enough for him.

  “Still, I didn’t realize how much I’d missed that. To be able to rely on someone else without worrying about appearing weak or out of control. I’ve always loved the take-charge quality about him. And, of course, he’s still as handsome as I remember.”

  She stopped for a long sigh. “Oh, Max, I think I might be making a huge mistake here.

  “Anyway.” Angeline shifted. “He’s on his way over.”

  Max lifted his head at the announcement.

  “That’s right.” She looked around the plush, Eastern decor of her condo. Would he like it? She was surprised to realize that it mattered to her. A burgundy-and-black patterned Oriental rug adorned the hardwood floor. It matched the draperies that hung from the bay windows on each wall. The full-floor condominium had a large kitchen and two bedrooms positioned on opposite sides. A far cry from the one-bedroom apartment they’d shared off campus for their brief union as man and wife.

  “He’s bringing over some of his stuff,” she continued to her captive audience of one. “We have to look like a genuine married couple.”

  The chime of the doorbell interrupted them. Max moved himself off the sofa and made a mad dash to the door.

  “Traitor,” Angeline mumbled.

  On shaky legs, she went to let R.J. in. As soon as she opened the door, Max barreled into him.

  R.J. laughed in surprise. Bracing himself, he looked across the threshold at her. “I can’t believe he remembers me.”

  She smiled. Max had been the poor soul to hear all about her foolish pining since R.J. had left. She hadn’t given him a chance to forget R.J.’s name.

  “Is he still chewing the rugs?” R.J. asked as he picked up the dog.

  Angeline nodded. “Yeah, the vet says it’s just something some breeds do.”

  She stepped aside to let him in. He was dressed casual, black tailored pants with a V-neck beige sweater that showed just a triangle of dark chest hair. Even with the lanky dog still in his arms, he looked like the phenomenal success that he was.

  “I didn’t know he had a breed,” R.J. said and carried the dog in. “I thought he was just a small furry black mutt.”

  “He is,” she replied. “But somewhere in that confusion is a breed that feasts on fabric fibers.”

  Angeline watched as he playfully wrestled Max to the floor. His tan skin reminded her of the bronze statues she’d studied while in Europe. His large shoulders shook with laughter as Max nipped at his face. A hint of sorrow hit her as she realized he’d missed their hound but resented having to see her again.

  He straightened after several moments of playful tussling. A slight sheen of perspiration dampened his brow.

  The amusement faded from his face as he looked at her. It was replaced by something foreign, something she couldn’t name. But it had her quaking.

  She cleared her throat. “So, I see you found the place okay?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s pretty humid out there, isn’t it?” Lord, she hated small talk.

  “Yeah, I guess there’s a huge storm on its way east.”

  “I hope the Bays’ flight doesn’t get canceled.” She forced a smile. “Logan still shuts down at the hint of a raindrop.”

  He nodded, his stare intense.

  She closed the door and turned to face him.

  “Here.” He held out his hand to her. A large stone glittered in his palm. “Your ring.”

  She reached for it. “I—I didn’t realize you were going to get a ring. It’s lovely.”

  “I tried to find a large one,” he said. “In case Tavov and Mila are wondering why you don’t always wear it, they’ll just assume it’s because of its large size.”

  “Well, it is a big stone.” She picked it up, a part of her wishing he’d slip it on her finger himself.

  “We have to look authentic. I rented it, along with a band for myself.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “I still have my original wedding ring,” she admitted, unsure why.

  “Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I needed to get one. Besides, a large diamond is far more suited to you. Always has been.”

  She wasn’t sure how to respond to that. An uncomfortable silence settled between them. He hadn’t even held on to that small symbol of their marriage. It shouldn’t have disappointed her, but it did.

  “Anyway,” R.J. continued, “I brought over a few things so it looks like I live here when your guests arrive tomorrow.” He lifted the leather carrying case in his hand. “The rest will be delivered in the morning. Just show me where I can put it and I’ll have to be on my way.” He was brusque, to the point. R.J. clearly didn’t want to spend any more time alone with her than he had to.

  “I emptied part of the closet. It’s through those doors,” she directed him.

  She wanted him to stay. It had been so long since they had talked to each other.

  “Can I get you something to drink? Some tea? Or wine? I happen to have some of the red I know you like.” She happened to have it because she’d searched all of the North End’s Italian district for it.

  “Used to like,” he corrected her. “I don’t drink that anymore.”

  “Oh.” A dull ache nestled in her chest. She didn’t even know what he liked anymore.

  So much for having him stay awhile.

  An idea began to form. “Well. That might be a problem,” she said with more enthusiasm than she should have.

  “What? That I don’t drink the same wine I used to?”

  “No, that we’re supposed to be happily married still and we don’t know anything about each other now. I think we need to discuss this. Get our stories straight for the dinner conversation tomorrow night.”

  She started pacing along the long coffee table in the middle of the room. Max walked with her a few steps before settling himself near the fireplace.

  “There are all sorts of things I need to know about you, all kinds of questions I should ask, and vice versa.”

  R.J. looked uncomfortable for a moment. Letting out a deep breath, he rubbed his palm over his face. “I suppose you’re right.” He sat down on the sofa. “Looks like I’ll need some of that wine after all,” he added with a dry tone.<
br />
  An almost giddy relief washed over her. He would stay. “I’ll be right back,” she said and ran into the kitchen.

  When she returned, Max was snoring and R.J. had settled himself comfortably on the sofa.

  “All right, let’s start easy. How hard was it to start your firm?” she asked as she poured the glasses.

  He lifted his head to look at her. “That’s easy?”

  “No? Okay, we’ll get back to that one. What’s your favorite dish now?”

  “Franks and beans.”

  She felt her stomach turn over. “I’ve always hated franks and beans.”

  “I know.”

  She waved her hand. “Okay, what do you like to drink? I know it’s not this anymore.” She indicated the glass she was handing him.

  “Ouzo. I like ouzo.”

  “Ouzo? Isn’t that a bit hard-core?” Although it made sense, because so was he. He’d always been a firm man, but now he seemed harsher somehow, colder and more distant.

  “I just got back from the Mediterranean and found I’d acquired an appreciation for it. It tastes like liquid licorice with a punch.”

  She tried not to turn up her nose. “I’ve always hated licorice.”

  He waited a beat. “I know.”

  “All right, let’s move on. What music are you listening to these days?”

  “A little bit of everything, really. Except Armstrong. I don’t like Louis Armstrong at all. Much too lax and easy for me.”

  This wasn’t going well. “I love Louis Armstrong.”

  “I know.”

  It dawned on her suddenly. “You’re teasing me.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted.

  She leaned a knee next to him on the couch and gave him a useless shove on the shoulder. “Robert James Davet, you’ve been teasing me all this time with contradictory pretend answers.”

  He reached up and tapped a playful finger on her nose. “I guess I must know more about you than you think.”

  Electricity crackled between them. She had the sudden urge to ask him the questions that were running through her mind. The same ones she’d been seeking the answers to every day for the past three years.

  Is there someone special in your life now?

  Has someone been lucky enough to snare your interest and attention the way I used to?

  She cleared her throat. “What’s the last book you’ve read?”

  He told her, but it didn’t register.

  She nodded. “What do you do in your spare time?”

  Do you still like to linger in bed Saturday mornings?

  “Work,” he answered.

  That much she should have guessed. “What’s been your proudest achievement?”

  “The phenomenal growth of Davet Security Services.”

  Ditto.

  “And your greatest failure?”

  He hesitated, staring at her, almost looking right through her. His eyes were full of meaning. A gust of wind rattled the windows outside. Understanding dawned on her, and she felt a wrenching ache start around the area of her heart.

  He was thinking about the two of them. She knew it. He was thinking their marriage was his biggest mistake.

  She tried to pretend the world hadn’t crashed in around her. Slowly seating herself on the ottoman in front of him, she tried to change the direction of the conversation. She would somehow get past the burning pain. “I bet you haven’t changed the way you drink your coffee. Or the predawn workouts you never skipped.”

  He nodded.

  She decided to go on. “And I’m guessing you can still ride a motorcycle like a daredevil. I bet your pool game is as smooth as it used to be. And something tells me your poker hand has lightened casino coffers all over the world these past couple of years.” She looked up to see a muscle twitch in the hard set of his jaw.

  He leaned toward her, a scant inches from her face. “That’s right, Angel. I still have all the characteristics that made me an unfit son-in-law for the Scott dynasty.”

  She bit her lip. “That’s not what I was getting at.” Looking away, she added, “I’m so sorry for everything you were put through. My father can be a ruthless man.”

  R.J. sniffed an ironic laugh. “A ruthless man who had definite ideas about whom you should marry. And it wasn’t anyone like me.”

  She should have been prepared for this, should have seen it coming. Damn her father and his ideals for her future. He’d done everything he could to make sure R.J. knew he thought he wasn’t good enough. “Maybe this isn’t the time to get into all this.”

  “Why not? Don’t talk about my background? Don’t talk about who I am? Who I’ve always been.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” He was putting words in her mouth.

  “What do you mean, then?” he asked. “You know me well enough, Angel. You know I’m South End litter, from the part of Boston people like you avoid.”

  “That’s not true. I’ve always been impressed with what you’ve managed to accomplish despite everything. You know that.”

  He let out a sarcastic laugh. “Is that why you came on to me that night at the campus party? Was it some type of debutante bet? To see who could win a token from the wrong side of the city?”

  She lifted her chin. “I came on to you because I wanted to. Because of the way you were looking at me.”

  “But we both should have known better. It was against all the rules, you were out of my league.” He let out a weary sigh. “I should have stayed away from you. As your father made crystal clear.”

  Like it could have been so easy. “What about what we were starting to feel?”

  His sharp features seemed to take on an even more angular set. She felt compelled to continue, perhaps foolishly. “I know it wasn’t my imagination, R.J. I know I saw attraction in your face those first few times we ran into each other.” Her voice came out in a whisper. An imaginary fist had wrapped itself around her throat, its fingers strong and relentless.

  He leaned back into the cushions, putting some distance between them. “I remember you’ve never had a problem being bold.”

  She cleared her throat. “Then we have changed after all. Because I certainly don’t feel that way now.”

  “Perhaps I’d better go.”

  “Are you walking out on me? Just because the conversation has gotten a little serious? Again?”

  His laugh was sharp. “Now, that’s an interesting question. If I recall, I asked you to come with me. As long as we’re remembering, we may as well be accurate.”

  She sighed, trying to find a way to explain how difficult such a move would have been for her back then. “There was no easy way for me to do that. You don’t understand. And you didn’t then either.” She noticed his fingers tighten around the glass and worried it might snap in his hand.

  “So it would appear.”

  “Besides,” she continued, “things had gotten bad for us way before you took the physical steps out the door. We had my father set against our union from the very beginning. And we were both much too focused on our professional careers. I regret that.” She decided to take a chance and move forward with her next question. “Why didn’t we try harder, R.J.? Why did we let outside forces drive such a wedge between us?”

  He stiffened ever so slightly and set the glass down hard on the coffee table. “What does it matter now? We have to take care of this one scenario, and then the past will be dead and buried.” He paused, then added, “Once again.”

  Angeline felt the mask of neutrality she’d put up begin to crumble, and she tried to hold on to some semblance of control. Why did his nonchalance hurt so much? It didn’t take a genius to realize he wanted out as things had gotten difficult. Granted, her father’s behavior toward him had been reprehensible, down to pr
omising to cut her off entirely if they did get married. A threat her father had followed through on. Well, she’d prove to Richard Scott that she didn’t need his money to be successful. He didn’t have a right to meddle in her life the way he had with R.J. She couldn’t let him get away with what he’d done to alienate her husband from the very beginning.

  In the end, her father had won. Her marriage had crumbled. R.J. had walked away.

  Angel hadn’t seen or spoken to her only parent since. Unable to forgive and forget, she refused to contact her father. Not that he’d bothered to make any contact either. Apparently they were stuck in a stubborn standoff to see who would blink first. She vowed that it wouldn’t be her.

  In a daze, she nodded. “You’re right, R.J. I agree,” she lied. Her voice sounded strained even to her own ears, and she glanced at him to see if he’d noticed.

  A wave of sorrow struck her for what she’d lost. Her eyes moved over his face of their own volition. Nostalgia for days gone by engulfed her, and she found herself moving closer toward him into the sofa.

  His low voice reached her through a dense fog. “It was nice while it lasted. But it’s ancient history now. It doesn’t make sense to dwell on the past. We got married way too young. Neither one of us was ready for such a commitment.”

  The words barely registered. “Mmm, it was nice, though, wasn’t it?” Just for a moment she allowed herself to remember the sweet, not the bitter.

  Nice was a drastic understatement for the way things had been between them. They’d had everything a young couple could want. Almost.

  “We were good together, weren’t we?” She wanted him to say it, needed to hear him agree.

  She saw something flare in his eyes and instantly recognized the familiarity of old longings.

  So much time had passed, and she’d missed him. Her mind may have ignored it, but her heart had ached all the while he’d been gone. But he was here now, and he was so close. She could smell the sweet woodsy scent of the imported wine on his breath. His familiar cologne triggered long-forgotten memories in the back recesses of her brain.

  Her gaze settled on his lips. Firm and full, the way she’d remembered. Would they taste the same? Would his skin hold the same texture and warmth it had years ago?