by Laurel Greer
And so began the longest ten minutes of Tavish’s life. He managed to smile, talk with Cadie about her son and her job, tell her about Russia and Peru and his next contract—a job in Phuket starting in September. He’d been lined up to go to Nunavut in northern Canada—a follow-up to his Alaska trip—immediately after finishing his stint at WiLA, but that had fallen through.
“You’re not working for the rest of the summer?” Disbelief edged Lauren’s voice. “I thought you couldn’t live without your job. Direct quote, in fact.”
Her jab landed, blunt and heavy, on his rib cage. Some of the last words he’d spoken to her before they’d decided to separate came back to him. Lauren, I want this marriage. Really. I’ve wanted you since I was fifteen and now that I have you I don’t want to let you go. But I can’t take pictures of Montana forever. And could remember her reply, too. He’d just buried it deep enough that it didn’t surface. Ever.
“Even I can take a break, Lauren.”
“Since when?” The question hovered on a screech.
“Since I realized I needed to go somewhere without seeing it through the viewfinder of my Nikon.”
Cadie’s gaze shot between them, as if she was trying to follow the conversation but knew well and good she was missing something. “Are you going to hang around here, Tavish?”
He laughed. “Yeah, no. I’ll be gone the minute the happy couple gets back from their honeymoon. If I can’t get another job to pass the time, I think I’ll head to Australia and get some skiing in.”
A shadow passed across Cadie’s face and it was his turn to cringe about bringing up a subject that reminded her of her husband’s death. “Right,” she said in a shaky voice. “Skiing. Fun.” Her attention fixed on a point across the room. She narrowed her eyes. “Good grief. Zach should not be dancing. Not even with his crutches. Excuse me.”
She left, melting into the crowd on the dance floor. Tavish kept his gaze on the clusters of people dancing under the swirling lights and pulled from his beer. “Is Zach one of her rehab clients or something?” Drew’s assistant had moved to town last summer, so Tavish didn’t really know the guy.
“No, just a good friend. He was close to Sam.” Lauren’s words came out irregular, chopped with strain.
And when he looked at her, her face twitched with obvious effort to stay blank. What was she trying to hide from him? He couldn’t see it having anything to do with Zach. Maybe she didn’t like to see her sister upset? What had they been talking about before that...? Ben. Cadie’s work. His end-of-summer travel—Oh. His gut hollowed.
Their stay-versus-go argument, yet again. The last time they’d hashed out their relationship, they’d ended up with their clothes strewed over Lauren’s kitchen. And though he didn’t expect another trip down memory lane—or being presented with an itemized list of his failings—to lead to more naked shenanigans, he didn’t see the point of dwelling on their miles-apart needs.
The desire to tell her what she wanted to hear ripped through him—that he’d be happy to stay in Montana for the summer, see if they could work things out. But that smacked way too hard of his dad’s broken promises. Tavish refused to lie to a woman about what he could be for her.
Offering up a cheerless smile, she said, “You look serious.”
“You, too.”
Her quiet laugh held a good portion of Yeah, you think?
“All things considered, I think we’re holding it together pretty well. Being in a wedding party is a special kind of torture on a good day.”
She laughed again. A sad one, but he’d take a laugh over tears.
“Really,” he continued, “we should get an award for this. Fate’s really rubbing our faces in it, making us watch our siblings get married.” Gripping his bottle in both hands—yeah, it would warm the beer inside, but he didn’t want Lauren to see him fidget, or worse, give in to the temptation to pull her into his lap and kiss her until the turned-down corners of her mouth curved up—he peered down at said siblings. Drew was an island of navy and white in the middle of a hot-pink sea.
A fast country song blasted on the speakers. Mackenzie was shaking her groove thing as best she could with seven and a half months of baby belly out in front—that had to be throwing off her center of gravity by now.
“How did you find a maternity prom dress just that ugly?” he asked Lauren.
“One of the other bridesmaids is a wunderkind with a needle. She altered it. Raised the skirt to an empire line and—” She cut herself off with a knowing look. “And you don’t care.”
“Not about the details, no. Wish I had my camera, though. Kenz’s smile is pretty terrific picture fodder.” He pulled out his phone and did his best to capture his sister’s joy with his limited technology.
Mackenzie must have felt her ears burning because she looked up and wagged a no-paparazzi finger at him. The gesture turned to a clear You and you. Get your asses on the dance floor.
Lauren’s hand landed on his knee. Her fingers dug in. “Tavish, we can’t dance. The last time...”
“Yeah, I remember. You were the bride.”
* * *
You were the bride.
Yup, she had been. And, once again, his strong hand gripped hers and was pulling her onto a dance floor. The energy in the club at their Vegas hotel had been similar to tonight. Her fingers dug into Tavish’s shoulders as uncontrollable flashes of affixing a veil over her up-do and sliding a garter into place dominated her mind. Then, they’d only lasted ten minutes on the floor before escaping up to their room to avoid public indecency charges. Not happening tonight. Tonight was about this weekend’s bride and groom. She had to make sure the night ended with no one being the wiser to veils and garters and honeymoon dances.
And with him remaining clueless about the baby. That plus sign had changed Lauren’s mind—in an instant she’d known motherhood was the right choice for her. But she couldn’t make that choice for Tavish. And when she’d given him an out last year, he’d taken it all too easily... God forbid he get spooked and leave before Andrew and Mackenzie had the chance to tie the knot.
The beginnings of a headache throbbed behind her eyes. Dropped her forehead to his hard chest, she inhaled the warm, woodsy scent lingering on the cotton hugging his delicious muscles. The fragrance soothed like pain medication, unraveling some of the tension pulling at her facial muscles.
He lowered his head close to her ear. “It’s just one dance, Lauren. For Mackenzie’s sake.”
“Can’t disappoint the bride.”
“We should probably get used to it. Don’t the best man and maid of honor have to dance at the reception?”
She tilted her chin to meet his gaze and made a face.
He matched her scrunched expression, then grabbed her hand and spun her in an awkward circle before bringing her close again. She bit her lip to hide her amusement. Tavish wasn’t much of a dancer, though he tried. They’d spent most of his prom wrapped in each other.
She hadn’t bothered to go to hers. He’d been in Europe on a college exchange, and she hadn’t wanted to torture herself, so she’d studied for her advanced placement biology final instead.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice as low as it could be given the throbbing, slow beat.
“How I aced my AP biology final.”
“Huh?”
She sighed. “Prom. You missed my prom.”
His hands tensed in their loose loop around her back. “Thought I apologized for that before, during and after the event itself.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“And I’m pretty sure you got back at me for it by dumping my ass.”
“I didn’t dump you because you missed my prom.”
She’d dumped him because she’d known he’d miss every other important event in their lives. Her med school aspirations and his dream of being on the co
ver of National Geographic had misaligned worse than the cock-eyed, neon beer signs adorning the scarred black walls of the Moose. There had been no point to waiting for the inevitable collapse. And their ring-exchange experiment had proved she’d been way smarter at nineteen than at twenty-nine.
Pink bled into Lauren’s peripheral vision as Mackenzie sidled up, hands over her head and hips shaking. Andrew stood behind her with his hands on her waist—or lack thereof. A disgruntled wrinkle formed on Mackenzie’s forehead. “Are you guys arguing again?” She shouted to be heard over the raucous beer-and-whiskey song currently entertaining the crowd.
Tavish flattened a Who, me? palm to his chest.
Better to let him deal with his sister. She had Andrew to handle. Her brother was eyeing her as if he finally had all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle laid out and was about to start assembling them. She huffed out a dry laugh. No way could he guess the past she shared with Tavish.
Or the future, for that matter.
She yelled, “We’re fine,” at her brother and mirrored Mackenzie’s arms-up, hips-boogying shuffle. Exhaustion settled in her joints, made it hard to keep her body loose and in time with the beat. If she could predict the future, maybe she could get her nerves to settle, could muster the guts to haul Tavish off the dance floor, find a quiet bench outside and be honest with him. She fought the urge to touch her stomach. She wanted the connection, but wasn’t ready to broadcast the baby to the world—to Tavish.
The song’s tempo picked up for the final chorus and the movement of the people around them lost the rhythm, turned a little frantic. Eyes wide, Mackenzie nestled into Andrew’s tall frame.
“Come closer, sweetheart.” Tavish tugged at Lauren’s hand, raised an eyebrow when she glared at him.
Sweetheart? Shut up, she mouthed, glancing at Mackenzie and Andrew to make sure they hadn’t heard Tavish’s slip.
Before she could get a good read on their faces, an arm flailed out from the group next to them, smacking her on the side of the head. She let out a yelp and ducked.
Concern flashed across Tavish’s face and he threw up a hand, shielding her from further jostling. And he must not have been anticipating the DJ leaving dead air between songs—must have lost his fricking mind, to boot—because his bellow rang clear across the bar. “Watch yourself around my wife, you prick.”
Chapter Six
Colored lights imprinted on Lauren’s retinas and the skin of her cheeks numbed as her brain stuttered to a halt. Her knees shook. Tavish hadn’t just called her his wife in front of two hundred Sutter Creek residents, had he? He couldn’t have. In front of her brother? And Mackenzie? Probably Cadie, too...
“Wife?”
“What the hell?”
Andrew and Mackenzie’s shocked responses blended together, answering the question Lauren really hadn’t wanted answered.
Oh, God. Her mind whirred. This called for major damage control. Maybe they could keep the news in the family for the weekend, just until the wedding was done. But splashes of pink clothing surrounded her. Fascination blazed on the other bachelorette party attendees’ faces. Tavish’s holler had reached their ears, all right.
All wrong, more like.
“Tavish?” Mackenzie’s shrill tone stabbed Lauren between the ribs.
“I—uh—” Didn’t seem like his brain was functioning any faster than Lauren’s. But someone had to say something.
“Ex-wife,” she offered weakly.
“As if that’s better. Why did we not know?” Mackenzie let out a loud curse and looked like she couldn’t decide who best deserved her stabby glare. “And you had to announce this now? Stellar timing.”
“Mackenzie—” Tavish started.
She held up a hand. “No. No excuses. I’m going home.” Pushing her way off the dance floor, she was out the door with Andrew on her heels before Lauren could get her legs to move.
Her feet were stuck to the floor, muscles immobile from shame. Heart hammering hard enough it threatened to break a rib, she sent her big-mouthed ex-husband a disbelieving glare. “Tavish.”
“What’s going on?” Cadie materialized at Lauren’s side. “Why did Mackenzie leave? And did you just say ‘wife’?”
“Ex-wife,” she repeated, snapping out the word. “I’m sure Tavish would love to explain given he’s the one who announced it to the entire bar.”
Anger darkened Cadie’s eyes. “Well, someone had better fill me in.”
Tavish’s hand landed on Lauren’s shoulder. “Lauren, I’m sorry, I—”
“Sorry? You’re sorry? Too late!” Snatching the martini glass from Cadie’s hand, she sloshed the blue drink into Tavish’s face.
Eyes closed, he slowly ran his tongue over his lips—oh, how dare he look smoking hot after what he did tonight—and wiped the sleeve of his no-longer-white dress shirt over his cheeks. “Seriously?”
Regret immediately crawled into her stomach. So much for keeping a low profile. “I owe you a drink, Cadie.”
“No, you owe me an explanation! You were married?”
“Yeah, well—”
“And you’re not now?”
“No, we—”
A single sob interrupted Lauren’s attempt to explain. Cadie’s shoulders jerked and her chest visibly shuddered.
Lauren would have been able to handle anger or any of its by-products. But the tears streaking down Cadie’s blotched face made the backs of Lauren’s eyes sting. She followed her sister to their table. She sensed Tavish close behind but couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Anger churned through her belly. At him, yeah. But more at herself.
“Cadie, I should have told you. But you had Sam’s death to deal with, and then Ben arrived, and it never seemed important.”
Her sister’s jaw dropped. “You don’t think you’re important to me?”
“Of course I do, I just didn’t think—”
“You’re more than my sister, Laur. You’re my best friend. Or I thought you were. But friends don’t lie to each other, and you did this morning. Said you weren’t involved.”
She wasn’t going to insult her sister by pulling out a “Technically, we’re not involved anymore.” She’d be connected to Tavish for the rest of her life, though in a far different way than they’d hoped for when they’d promised each other a life of love and respect. Forever in the marriage sense had lasted all of twelve days. Forever in the parenting sense would be starting in around mid-February, give or take.
She should just blurt that out, too. A cherry on tonight’s fricking drama cake.
But no. There was a sacredness to telling a man he was going to be a father. No matter her ire, she wouldn’t take away what would hopefully be a poignant moment for him.
Unless he deserts you again...
She shoved the thought from her mind. She’d worry about that after the wedding. First, she had to fix things with her sister. Mackenzie and Andrew, too. She sent Cadie a pleading look. “You have enough to worry about without taking on my problems.”
“I’m not fragile. I would have been there for you, just like you have for me.” Cadie started to back up.
“I know. I screwed up—”
“Yeah, you did. I naively thought I meant as much to you, that you’d rely on me if you needed me. Obviously not. Relationships need to go two ways, Lauren. It can’t just be you giving all the time.” Cadie grabbed her jacket from the booth. “I need to make sure Mackenzie’s okay.”
Lauren sucked in a breath as her sister spun and retreated. With each of Cadie’s steps, all Lauren’s attempts to shore up her family slowly drained away. Her closeness with her sister, gone. And as soon as her dad found out, he’d probably react the same as Cadie. Protecting her family from more pain—the purpose of having kept the secret—was supposed to have helped them stay together, not push them apart.
* * *
>
Tavish held a clean dishcloth under the faucet in Mackenzie and Drew’s kitchen. Cleaning the blue cocktail off his face was child’s play compared to cleaning up the mess he’d made by letting his temper get the best of him. He’d spent a good hour trying to convince his sister that the secret coming to light actually meant he and Lauren wouldn’t be sniping at each other for the rest of the weekend. A bald-faced lie, obviously—thirty seconds after Cadie had left the bar, Lauren had stormed out, still looking like she’d have preferred to crack a beer bottle over his head instead of throwing that drink in his face. But the dishonesty was necessary to get Mackenzie to believe that tomorrow’s rehearsal and Saturday’s wedding would go off without a hitch.
Footsteps on the tiled kitchen floor announced Drew’s return from tucking Mackenzie in. Arms crossed over his chest, he hitched a hip on the counter and fixed an impressive serious-ski-patroller look on his face. “When I suggested we start the weekend off with a bang, that’s not what I had in mind.”
Tavish flinched. He’d earned the thinly veiled disgust. Keeping his marriage a secret had been easy enough to do when he never saw Lauren. A change in proximity shouldn’t have altered the parameters that much. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Start by telling me Lauren got home safe tonight.”
Damn it, he couldn’t even guarantee that. Wringing out the cloth, he bought himself a few seconds by hanging it over the kitchen faucet and ambling over to one of the bar stools tucked under the kitchen counter. He spun the stool around, straddled it and rested his arms on the wooden back. “She took off before I could talk to her.”
Drew yanked his phone from his pocket and typed out a rapid message. “And Vegas, Fitz? How did you get married without me noticing? I mean, we were drunk a good chunk of the time, but not that drunk.”
No, but on what should have been their last morning, Tavish had left Drew sawing logs in their hotel room to meet Lauren for brunch.
The minute she had smiled with her lips pursed around the rim of her coffee cup, Tavish had known in every particle of his being that he wanted to stare at that smile over the breakfast table for the rest of his life. They hadn’t dated for a decade. But his heart had clung to her, no matter how far he’d traveled.