Tory never wanted to go to college? Morgan slowed a little. “You never wanted me to support you while you were in school?”
“No. And I don’t even know why you had that idea. I’m a hairdresser. A dang good one. Books aren’t my thing. Give up on that fantasy right now.”
“He’s already chosen. He picked Brielle.” She slowed a little more. Trees stopped blurring.
“You don’t know that.”
“Oh, yes I—” The words clipped off in Morgan’s throat when lights came flashing in her rear view mirror red and blue. A siren became audible as she pressed the brake. Wow, how long had that guy been following her? “Sorry, Tory. I have to, uh. I might be going to jail.”
“We’ll talk later, then.”
“Bye.”
***
“Your wife? What do you mean, your wife?”
Josh wanted to punch something. “A lot happened while you were gone.”
“It sounds like it.” Brielle removed her hand from his shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. Josh decided now was not a good time to stop driving, so he kept on going down the coast. “What’s she like? Is it her money that bought the mansion on the hill and this posh car and your china closet with the gilt-edge dishes? Did you find yourself a sugar-mama? Is she older? Some cougar who made it big and wanted a boy toy?”
“No. No, now stop that. It’s nothing like that. She’s a student. And like I told you, the house is being loaned to us by a friend of my mother’s.”
“Your mother is dead.”
“My late mother’s.”
Brielle drummed her fingers on the dashboard of the car, clearly not appeased. “She’s a student. And you’re living together in that house. I see. When were you thinking of telling me this? It seems like something you should have led with, Josh. Hi, Brielle, I’m glad to see you, but I’m married. It’s pretty big news. I would have appreciated a little heads up on that right when I arrived at your house on Christmas morning. And oh, nice. You left your wifey and came with me for a drive—on Christmas morning. No wonder she was driving like a Formula One racer on meth when she passed us. Did you even tell her I came by? Did you even tell her about me? About our plans? What were you thinking was going to happen next?”
Brielle’s voice was rising in pitch with each successive question she posed, each accusation creating a more pinching tone.
“Look, Brie. There’s a very long explanation. And when you hear it, I’m pretty sure you’re going to laugh…”
Brielle at this point didn’t look like she’d find anything funny ever again as long as she lived. “Ha, ha. Amuse me.”
“As for telling you, I was pretty sure your good friend Claire already had.”
“Claire is getting married this week. Do you think she can talk about anything other than herself?” Brielle had a point, but still, in a way, Josh was relieved and bothered at the same time. “Josh, I thought we’d worked all this out before I went to Germany. I’m here now, just as we always planned.”
“You never indicated to me that you were coming back at Christmas.”
“You never indicated to me that you were going to marry a reckless driver as soon as I was out of sight. Which one is worse, Josh? Which?”
“You’re getting really upset, and I think you should take a deep breath and let me explain.” If she knew that there really was a good explanation, and that he’d done all this for her in the first place, she’d see. He was sure. “It’s going to take some patience on your part.”
“Patience! Patience! Josh, I have been nothing if not patient with you. Long years I have waited for you to get to this point, to where you’re almost done with school, and we are almost able to finally be together. And you’re what? Telling me you jumped the gun and jumped in bed with some woman? This is beyond patience you’re asking of me right now.”
Josh’s stomach did several flips in succession. He’d seen Brielle get upset before—over small things, like not getting the table they’d reserved at the restaurant, or being seated in coach when they thought they’d upgraded to business class—but she’d never been agitated like this. He didn’t know what to make of it—whether he should be flattered that she cared this much about her future with him, or whether she was just being unreasonable.
“Please, Brielle. Hear me out.”
“Oh, I’m all ears,” she said, but the way her knees pointed toward the door and her face looked out the window at the trees, she didn’t seem like she’d care what he said next.
Josh took a deep breath as they came around a bend. “It all started when my grant got denied, and—”
He had to stop talking because what he saw next prevented words. He slowed way down to watch the unfolding horror.
Luckily, Brielle supplied them. “It looks like your wife won’t be driving recklessly anywhere else on this festive day.”
Josh watched with stomach clenched as a police officer clipped handcuffs on Morgan and pushed her head down to guide her into the back seat of his squad car, leaving her De Tomasa Mangusa stranded on the side of the road, its tires still smoking in the cold winter air.
CHAPTER THIRTY
An hour and a half later, Josh pulled up at the police station. He’d made Brielle drive the Land Rover home while he took the Mangusa with his own key for it back to their garage. It was still Seagram’s car, after all, and he couldn’t leave it abandoned on the side of the road to let the police tow and impound it. Who knew Morgan had such a lead foot? Probably not even Morgan. Man, he must have really upset her to make her engine go that fast. A thousand apologies perched on his tongue, and he wasn’t going to be able to utter a single one, not as long as he was still with Brielle.
A woman who drove like that might have serious rev in her own engines, he thought absently, and then forced himself back to the gravity of the situation.
“Hello, officer. I’m Josh Hyatt. I’m here about my wife Morgan Hyatt.”
“Oh, the fast chick. I booked her.”
“Has bail been set?”
“It’s pretty high. Ten thousand.”
“Dollars?” Josh’s throat collapsed.
“Yes, but you only have to post ten percent of it and she goes free. If she doesn’t show up for court, you forfeit the bond.” The officer then explained the procedure for posting bond, a fact of life Josh never expected to have to learn, especially through bailing out Morgan, of all people.
After Josh had pulled out his wallet and noticed only twelve dollars decorated its folds, he made a desperate call to Chip. He hated asking, after everything his brother had already done for him lately. He started the call with a sheepish, “Merry Christmas,” and then told him, “Morgan’s in a bind. And so am I.”
Unfortunately, Chip couldn’t help him. He was maxed out credit-wise from opening his veterinary practice.
“Why don’t you call Bronco?” Chip said.
“Bronco. Ha.”
“It’s Christmas. Even Ebenezer Scrooge softened up on Christmas.”
“Ebenezer Scrooge had ten times the charm and heart and wit of Bronco Hyatt.”
“Amen to that,” muttered Brielle, who was sitting beside Josh in the orange plastic chairs of the police station waiting room. She understood Bronco’s shortcomings better than anyone, having been the target of his vitriol more than once. Not that she wasn’t equal to his attacks. She’d put him right back in his place, which was one of the reasons Josh had stuck up for her when Bronco went ballistic about Josh’s plans to propose to her a couple of years ago. Bronco needed someone who could go toe to toe with him, not another person to just roll over and do what he said. Didn’t he? Wasn’t that what Bronco needed? Someone to put him in his place?
Morgan hadn’t put him in his place; she’d let him be himself and not let it get under her skin.
“I’m not calling Bronco.”
“I wish I could help you, man. I just haven’t got it. Not even for Morgan. And I’d sell my kidney for that one.”
/> Josh shot a sideways glance at Brielle, but it didn’t seem like she’d heard the endorsement from Chip.
“Well, Merry Christmas, anyway. Thanks, brother.”
Josh made a fist. This was ridiculous. What was Morgan thinking, going that fast? The officer put it this way: Criminal speeding is eighty-five miles an hour. We clocked your wife at a hundred and six. Brielle had choked a little.
Twenty minutes later, Josh still didn’t know what to do. He mentally listed every person he dared ask, and it amounted to Sigmund Seagram and Bronco Hyatt. Seagram had already done far too much, and the debt they owed him was beyond ridiculous.
He broke down and dialed Bronco.
Ten minutes later, the money had been wired, and Morgan was presented at the double-paned Plexiglas door in a detainee jumpsuit. Dang, that woman made even that stupid orange thing look good. The officer had her sign some things, and then she received a plastic bag with her clothing, after which she left Josh’s view, presumably to change back into her sweater and jeans.
“So, this is your wife.” Brielle’s voice was terse, her body a tight wire when Morgan returned.
“Morgan,” was all Josh could say. He was having a hard time meeting either of their eyes. “The Mangusa is home already,” was the only thing he dared say to her. Her eyes stared wide at him, all blue yet sorry. Flecks of black smattered the edge of her temple. She’d been crying.
I never meant to make her cry.
“Hi, Brielle,” said Morgan, softly. “Thanks, Josh. I’m sorry for interrupting your day.”
“Don’t worry about it. Bronco posted the bail, anyway.” He wasn’t sure what to do. She looked so drained and helpless, like a lost baby deer. Instinct told him to put an arm around her, support her as they left the station, but logic told him that could both embarrass Morgan and tick off Brielle. He’d already seen Brielle ticked off today, and he’d rather not go through that again. “Let’s just get you home.” He said this low, trying to be comforting. “Did you have any personal effects still to pick up?”
Morgan just nodded, even more worried than before. “My phone and keys. Your mother’s necklace and earrings.”
At this, Brielle sighed heavily and took Josh’s arm. “What? You’re letting her wear your mother’s jewelry? I am sorry, Josh, but this might be too much for me right now. I’ll be waiting out in the car. No, never mind. I’ll call a cab.” She let go of his arm and curled up a little, her arms hugging herself. “Maybe I’ll call you later, not sure. We’re still on for New Year’s Eve. I’ll see you then.” Her parting shot nailed him right in his heart, and probably Morgan’s, too, even though Brielle fired it ignorantly.
Morgan looked up at him. “New Year’s?” she whispered. He gave a slight nod, and Morgan spoke up, calling after Brielle’s departing figure. “Brielle? It’s really not fair you should be the one to take the cab. I’ll call my sister. This was all my fault.”
She pulled her phone from the bag the officer handed her and looked up at Josh. “Go.” She was already dialing her sister, he could see.
Josh stood blinking for a second. Really? Morgan was telling him to go after Brielle? It was either the most callous thing or the most self-sacrificing thing she’d done for him so far in all the time he’d known her. He’d have to find out later which it was, although the black smear near her eye made him think it was the latter. Hope it was the latter. If so, how could any woman be so good?
“Brielle?” he hustled after her. “I’ll give you that ride.” Josh jogged out of the police station and bumped hard into the shoulder of none other than Paulie Bumgartner.
“Whoa, Josh Hyatt. What are you doing at the police station?” He snapped a quick succession of shots. “And who is this little firecracker you’re chasing? Is it the fiancée you exiled to Europe so you could have the fiancée and the wife, too? Where’s the blonde? Get too many women and you end up with problems, boy. Problems that end with the po-po.”
“Brielle,” Josh called, ignoring Paulie. “Let’s get out of here.”
“So! You’re taking your old chicky in your new chicky’s car. What class, Hyatt. All class all the time with your family.” Clearly the Bum thought the Land Rover was Morgan’s, but Josh wasn’t going to explain.
“Don’t you have a family, Bumgartner? It’s Christmas. Be there for them.” Josh shuffled Brielle into the Land Rover and then hopped in the driver’s side and roared away, grateful the lout hadn’t seen Morgan come out of the station.
“What was that?”
“Paparazzi.”
“Paparazzi! I thought you shook them.” Brielle seemed more upset, even, by old Paulie’s presence than by the whole meeting Morgan incident. “I’m really not in a position where I can have my photo posted anywhere.” She looked anguished.
“Me, neither,” Josh said, thinking about Morgan’s feelings, her family’s feelings, and Seagram’s feelings—the angry and upset ones where Seagram felt like kicking him out of the Campus House and demanding repayment on the back rent, which Josh could obviously not pay.
Josh shot Morgan a quick text: Paprazzi alert. Stay put until Paulie vacates the premises.
“No, I mean seriously. This could get me in real trouble. If you see that Paulie person again, promise me you’ll give him a fake name for me. Tell him I’m your cousin from Canada. Anything.” Suddenly her hurt from earlier had morphed into this strange panic. She’d turned like the weather on an island.
She was being extra paranoid about this, and Josh noticed a growing irritation inside himself. Possibly her panic about Paulie Bumgartner had something to do with her embassy job and going deep cover over the past semester while she was in Germany, but Josh wouldn’t know since she never read him in on any of what was going on in her life.
“What exactly went on with you over the past several months? Were you being stalked by terrorists, or what?”
“No! Hardly. And I really don’t know how you have any business asking me for the intricate details of how I spent my time, when you kept a marriage from me.” So she was still furious. Not that he could blame her.
However, this was a little thick. “Look, you’re the one who laid down the law. You were explicit, telling me not to contact you.”
“I never said anything so cut and dried as that.”
“That’s how I remember it.”
“You didn’t even email me.” She looked up at him with hurt in her eyes.
“Because you said not to.” He hadn’t meant to hurt her, obviously.
“I was sure you’d see through something like that. I wouldn’t ever want to be completely separated from you, Josh. We’re each other’s better half. I’m yin to your yang. We are the push and pull. I didn’t want you to cut me out of your life completely, certainly not like this.” She hiccupped, and curled up a little, pulling her knees up onto her seat and hugging them to her chest as she looked out the window. She looked smaller.
“I never cut you out of my life.” Part of him wanted to reach for her, but his arms wouldn’t move. “I married her for you.”
“You do know how wrong that sounds.” She looked over at him at last.
“Of course I do. I’m not a fool.” He exhaled deeply. “What happened is I lost my student funding. Bronco makes way too much money, and whether or not he claims me as his son, the IRS claims me as his dependent.” He turned off the highway back into Starry Point.
“Not if he doesn’t claim you on his taxes.”
“Oh, yes. Even then. Believe me, I did the research, made every legal appeal, took the case to the limit. It was a dead end.”
“So get a loan. People get loans.” The practical Brielle resurfaced and she released her knees.
“Not me. Bronco knows too many people, blocks too many roads.”
“That’s persecution.”
“That’s what I said.”
“So get a job. Pay for college.”
Josh chuckled mirthlessly. “At Clarendon’s per-semester costs? It’s
a first class education, but it comes at first class ticket pricing. I was already admitted, and I couldn’t let that go to waste. You said so yourself.”
“They do have the top foreign policy program in the nation.” Brielle brightened a little. “Are you just loving your professors? Are you genuflecting when they walk into the room? Because once, at a seminar at State of Oregon Collegiate, I went to a lecture by Clarendon’s Dr. Hammerhill, and afterward I went up to him and he invited me and three other students for coffee, and I think that little trip to Starbucks might have changed my course of career forever. Is he one of your professors? I’ve been wanting to ask how you’re loving your classes.”
How he was loving them? It was hard to measure something that small, except maybe micrograms. Enduring them, yes. Mostly. But loving them, not so much. “We can discuss that later. What you need to know right now is that you have Morgan to thank for my being able to attend class at all.”
At the mention of Morgan’s name, Brielle’s face blanked out again. “I can’t imagine.”
“The only way to get free of that noose of being claimed as a dependent by Bronco was to get married.”
“So you proposed to Morgan and are living happily ever after in a mansion.”
“So Morgan—” He was trying to remember whether he’d suggested the marriage or she had. It was Morgan, right?
Legally Wedded (Legally in Love Book 3) Page 30