“I don’t care! My son will not go through what I did as a child living in that town!”
Julianne felt a moment of fear. Where was he taking them? What would Owen be exposed to?
She felt a measure of distress, too, for the man sitting next to her. He’d obviously had a tough childhood growing up without a father. One that left scars. She didn’t want that for her son. Maybe he was right to want her to pretend. But marriage?
Sighing, she rested her head in her hand. “Will, this is crazy. I know you’re angry with me for . . . lots of things.” It wasn’t hard to admit she was guilty on so many levels. And she empathized with his desire for Owen to live a respectable life, but she suspected her calling out Nicky’s name while they were making love was the trigger for this unorthodox marriage proposal. “But a marriage just doesn’t make any sense.”
He arched an eyebrow at her. “Actually, it makes perfect sense. It’s the only scenario that gives Owen exactly what he needs.” His tone turned lethal. “Unless you and the priest had other plans? Shall I call him back out here to discuss it?”
Julianne lunged from the bench to grab at Will as he started to rise. “Absolutely not!” She couldn’t let Nicky ever know what she’d done. It was mortifying enough that Will knew.
His next words were ruthless. “I’m taking Owen to North Carolina as soon as he’s able. If you want to come with us, you’ll come as my wife. The other option is you get back on the bus to crazy town and wait for a custody battle that will air all your dirty laundry.”
Julianne’s whole body trembled. She’d brought this mess on herself with her behavior and lies. If Will’s intent was to punish her, he’d hit the bull’s-eye.
But Owen was hers and she wouldn’t give him up no matter how hard Will bullied her. He’d said it was only three months until the season started. By then, Owen would be completely recovered, and that was all that was important. She could do anything for the sake of her son. Even spend a few months married to a Neanderthal.
“For crying out loud, we don’t know anything about one another,” she whispered.
“So do a Google search on me.” He stood up, towering over her. She couldn’t see his face with the sun shining behind his head, but she felt the derision rolling off him landing like heavy rain in her lap. “Roscoe can draw up a prenup and send it over tonight. We can have a civil ceremony as soon as I get a license. I’ll make the arrangements. Don’t bother with one of your gowns, though. This isn’t going to be a party.”
• • •
Later that evening, Julianne sat on the hard sofa in the waiting area, her bare feet tucked beneath her. Sebastian, Nicky, and Stephen were seated around the table, debating the prenup forms Will had sent over. His lawyers had worked quickly. Still, they’d have to wait forty-eight hours for a marriage license, even with her brother pulling strings.
“It’s a pretty straightforward agreement,” Sebastian explained to her brother. “When they dissolve the marriage, both leave with the monies they came in with. Until then, Will provides for Owen’s everyday care while Julianne provides for her own expenses. He’s establishing a trust for Owen for his education and so forth. As prenups go, it’s really standard.”
“I really don’t like the way you keep saying when they dissolve their marriage. You’re dooming it to failure before it even begins.” Nicky had been singing the same tune all day.
Sebastian refrained from commenting. Like Carly, he’d never been a big fan of Nicky. Besides, they all knew the marriage was a farce and destined to end in divorce. She and Will just hadn’t gotten around to discussing that part of their ridiculous plan.
“I really don’t like the way no one told me she’d sold the company.” Stephen had not taken that news very well.
“It is . . . was . . . my company. I didn’t need your approval to sell it.” Julianne was getting tired of this whole discussion.
Stephen turned in his chair to face her directly. “Julianne, after you pay everyone off, you won’t have that much left to live on. A couple of years, tops. Then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I just need to take care of Owen.”
“That’s my point! Seriously, Julianne, you have such a Scarlett O’Hara complex.” Stephen pinched the bridge of his nose. “Will’s agreed to take care of Owen, but how are you planning to take care of yourself if you don’t have any money? Are you willing to start another design business from scratch?”
Julianne doubted she would design again at all, since she hadn’t been able to sketch anything worth producing in nearly a year. If she told Stephen that, he’d have a coronary. “I have Mom’s paintings. I could sell them if I needed to.”
Stephen’s face grew redder, if that were possible. “Your mom’s paintings? Are you kidding me?”
She never understood Stephen’s attitude about her mother’s art creations. “Nicky and I think they could sell for quite a lot.”
“You and Nicky? You two are the only ones who’d buy them!” Her brother’s voice was so loud, she was surprised security hadn’t come to investigate.
“Daria’s oil paintings are fantastic and incredibly unique. A knowledgeable collector might pay a great deal for them.” Finally, Nicky said something that made sense.
Stephen directed a frosty look at the priest. “You would say that.” He turned back to Sebastian. “As long as Owen is taken care of under this agreement, you can let her sign it. My sister is going to do what she wants. She always has.” He stood to leave.
“As long as your nephew becomes legitimate, you mean!” She and Stephen had never been close, but his contempt was more than she could emotionally handle tonight. “Heaven forbid my life interferes with your campaign!”
“For God’s sake, Julianne!” Stephen’s rant had Nicky clearing his throat. “This isn’t about me. It’s never about me. You’re my sister and I want to see you protected. Taken care of. Except you won’t let anybody do that for you. You make it impossible. I only hope Will Connelly knows what he’s getting himself into.” He pushed out a heavy breath before he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “Are you coming back to the town house tonight? Faith and the kids are there. They wanted to be here for your wedding.”
Julianne’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want Stephen’s family at the wedding. Truth be told, she didn’t want anyone to witness the ceremony. Especially her niece and nephew, who were too young to understand it wasn’t real. But Stephen was her half brother, one who obviously had finally decided to take his role seriously. So she kept her protests to herself. She was all in now, and there was no stopping.
She shook her head. “I’ll probably get there after everyone’s asleep. I want to feed Owen again tonight.”
He looked like he wanted to say more. Instead he nodded at Sebastian and Nicky and headed out the door.
Just as she had the day before, Julianne put a shaking hand to paper and signed the prenuptial agreement. It was the first step; in a few days, she’d be married to Will Connelly.
Seven
It should have been a simple thing, getting married. Theirs was to be a marriage based strictly on a business arrangement, a perfunctory step to legitimize Owen. When the words had shot out of his mouth at the hospital the other day, the idea made perfect sense. They could rusticate in North Carolina and no one in town would dare question Owen’s legitimacy. Problem solved. All that was needed was a license and the brief utterance of a few select pro forma words to make the whole thing legal. No flowers, no music, no cake, no wedding and all the inane crap that went with one. Easy.
Instead, the process took two full days to pull off. Two days in which everyone had equal opportunity to throw their two cents at Will. Starting with his mother.
“Are you sure about this, Will?”
The question, posed in his mother’s soft, unassuming Southern drawl, had begun to burn
a hole in the side of his head, he’d heard it so many times in the past forty-eight hours. Teammates, his coach, Hank, Roscoe, and now his mother were all questioning his sanity with the same five-word refrain.
Was he sure about marrying Julianne Marchione? Hell no! But since she was his son’s mother, it was a necessary step.
“I’d think this would make you happy, Mom. Finally, there will be a marriage in the Connelly family.”
He hadn’t meant for his words to wound, but his mother’s mouth tightened ever so slightly as she clasped and unclasped her fingers in her lap. With a sigh, Will sank down on the leather sofa beside her, taking one of her hands in his. They were holed up in the study of Hank Osbourne’s house. Maryland’s marriage license requirements were the least restrictive in the D.C. area, so the ceremony would take place in front of a judge who happened to be one of Hank’s golfing buddies. Best of all, they’d be away from the glaring eyes of the media.
Despite Will’s attempts to keep things simple, Julianne’s brother seemed determined to turn the nuptials into a three-ring circus, repeatedly asking Will if he wanted to invite any special guests. Will was used to people who wanted to rub shoulders with famous jocks, but he wasn’t going to invite any of his friends to witness a pretend wedding. That would only make a joke of their own marriages. He certainly wasn’t going to ask his teammates to participate in this farce. And he couldn’t ask Coach Zevalos, the one man who’d been like a father to him all those years ago, not while the senator’s name was linked to the mob of media and senate committee staff trying to bring him down. Instead, his mom would stand up as his only witness.
“What I’m sure about is this is the best thing for Owen.” He brushed a strand of soft brown hair off her cheek. Attractively dressed in a shimmery peach dress that wrapped around her narrow waist, his mother looked younger than her age of forty-six. But then, she’d always been pretty, oftentimes the object of many leers and taunts from the teenage boys she’d transported to school during her days as a bus driver. If she knew how many times he’d fought over the suggestive remarks other boys had made about her, she never said.
Whereas Will was brawny and muscular, she was small-boned and delicate. The only similarity between mother and son: emerald green eyes. Today, Annabeth’s glistened with unshed tears.
“Lots of professional athletes father children with women they’re not married to. It’s not like you’d be a pariah. Sadly, I think it’s actually become socially acceptable.”
“Not for me,” Will growled. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it.”
His mother patted their joined hands. “I’m not. Truly, I’m proud of you for taking responsibility for this. But you don’t know this woman. Not really. How can you trust her enough to marry her?”
“I don’t trust her. It’s like that saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And I don’t need to trust her fully because it’s not that kind of marriage. I only have three months before I have to be in training camp and then the season starts. I can’t waste that time arguing over who’ll have custody on which days. I want to bond with my son instead, which means we need to live together in the same house. Being married shields Owen from the negative stigma you know he’ll face.”
“He’s a baby! Do you think he really cares?”
“I care.” Of all people, his mother should have understood that. Will was annoyed that he had to defend his decision to his mother. “We’ve both signed a prenup, which will make the process easier when we separate after the season starts.”
“My heavens, you make it all sound so romantic.”
“This from the mother who used to tell me that fairy tales were for books and movies, but not real life.” It was one of the things Will most admired about his mother; she was pragmatic and determined to roll with whatever life threw at her.
She wiped away a tear. “I only said that because you were constantly dreaming our life would suddenly turn into an episode of Dawson’s Creek or a Disney movie where a football coach would arrive in town and announce he’s your long-lost father.”
“It wasn’t always a football coach. I would have been happy with the Matrix.” Or any man who would give his mother back her youth and rescue them from the poverty that had constantly nipped at their heels.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I just want you to have a chance at a relationship. A real marriage. It’s too late for me, but I’d hoped for something better for you.”
Will placed a finger beneath his mother’s chin, lifting it so they were eye to eye. “Hey, who says it’s too late for you? You could have a relationship. A marriage, too. You just need to get out of that stupid town and live a little.”
It was a familiar argument. Thanks to the outrageous salary Will earned to play a game, his mother could finally afford not to work and to enjoy life. Instead, she continued to dig into her hometown, choosing to live there and manage her grandmother’s antiques store. Maintaining the weathered hundred-year-old building that housed the store cost more than his mother brought in each year, but she refused to give it up. Her unwillingness to venture out of Chances Inlet frustrated Will.
His mother shook her head. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m happy. My life is comfortable and familiar. I’m too set in my ways to want to start over somewhere else, much less with someone else. Besides, I’m not going anywhere while my grandson is in town.”
Will kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll both be able to forge a relationship with Owen. It’s not just the two of us anymore.”
“And his mother? How does she fit into our new family dynamic?”
His gut clenched at the thought of Julianne. He’d been avoiding her these past few days, catching glimpses of her at the hospital when he visited Owen. The conflicting emotions that rolled through his body every time he saw her made him nuts. On the one hand, he wanted to hate her for attempting to shut him out of Owen’s life, but whatever attraction that hummed between them still pulled at him every time he laid eyes on her. He only hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by insisting they spend the next three months in close quarters. For once, he was grateful his mother had remained in Chances Inlet; she’d be effective at running interference.
“Julianne will always be a part of Owen’s life,” he said. “We all need to try to get along, for his sake. Beyond that, she isn’t a part of this family.”
“In a few minutes, she will be.”
“That’s just a legal technicality, Mom.” He stood, gently tugging his mother to her feet beside him. “It’s only temporary.”
Her eyes were still sad as she adjusted his tie. “Not exactly what one wants to hear from the groom on his wedding day, but under the circumstances it’ll have to do. I guess I raised us both right, didn’t I?”
Will smiled down at his mother as she uttered one of her favorite sayings. She’d been a child herself when he was born, living with her grandmother. Both he and his mother had grown up together. “Yeah, Mom. You did.”
• • •
Just like that, Julianne was married. No wedding Mass. No wedding gown. She hadn’t even worn a dress. Not because Will had made the comment about her not wearing one—he was about to find out she was not giving in to him on everything—but because if she dressed like a bride, then this whole mess would seem genuine. The less she thought of their marriage as being real, the more apt she was to get through the next few months. So she’d donned a Calvin Klein silk blouse and pants, both cream colored; her mother’s pearls; and a pair of pearl earrings borrowed from Carly. Her sister-in-law, Faith, wanted to put flowers in Julianne’s hair, but she’d worn it long instead. The simpler the better.
What she hadn’t counted on was a wedding ring. That little detail was causing her to hyperventilate. When Will slid it onto her finger during the ceremony, she nearly fainted. But no ring was presented for her to place on his finger. And t
hat made her angry.
“So let me get this straight, Will asked you to pick out a wedding band for me and you said nothing to me about it?” She paced the long kitchen in Hank’s house while Carly sat quietly at the kitchen table.
“I was doing you a favor, Jules. Will’s a guy. A linebacker. God knows what he would have picked out.”
“It doesn’t matter what he would have picked out! I don’t want to wear a ring. Don’t you get it? This isn’t a real marriage. This”—she waved her hand in front of Carly’s face—“makes it real!”
Carly grabbed her hand and guided her down into a chair beside her. “Here’s a little news flash: This marriage is real. Legally, anyway.”
Julianne slumped in the chair, deflated. “I’m such a hypocrite. I just promised to love a man I barely know for as long as we both shall live. What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking of Owen. And I told you that you didn’t have to go through with this marriage. Something could have been worked out, but you are bent on punishing yourself.”
Except punishing herself was the only way she could alleviate the guilt she felt. Shaking herself, she quickly pulled on what her brother referred to as her Scarlett O’Hara persona.
“No, I just need to stop feeling sorry for myself. This marriage is the best scenario for Owen right now. A mother has to sacrifice for her children. You’ll see when your baby comes.”
Carly placed a hand on her belly as her jaw dropped open.
“That move right there,” Julianne pointed to Carly’s hand caressing her stomach. “It’s a dead giveaway. Not to mention the dopey look your husband has on his face every time he’s passed the nursery this past week.”
“Jules, I . . . we . . . well, we haven’t said anything to anyone yet. It didn’t seem right given what you were going through,” Carly whispered.
Julianne forced a smile on her face. “Don’t be silly. If you’d waited six months to tell me, I would have deserved it. But don’t hide your joy because my life is messed up. You and Shane did things the right way. Be happy. I’m happy for you.” And she was. But if she were telling the truth, she’d admit to also being a tiny bit jealous.
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