by Abby Gaines
“Mom died when I was seven,” she said. “She had an aneurysm, one of those things no one saw coming.”
“I’m sorry, Megs.” He laced his fingers through hers.
“Cynthia and I went to live with Dad and his new family full-time, not just every second weekend.”
“That must have been tough.”
Her eyes were unfocused. Or rather, focused on something he couldn’t see. “It was surprisingly easy. Daisy was so kind and loving, and she and Dad were happy. Sabrina was like a doll for me and Cynthia to play with.”
“Still, you must have felt strange,” he persisted. Because her relationship with her father suggested she still had something to prove.
“When I was ten, I overhead Dad and Daisy talking about his first marriage. Turned out he and my mom were separated, about to divorce, when Mom discovered she was pregnant with me.”
“So they got back together.”
“Yep.” She tore a little strip off the napkin she’d used with her pizza. “I see enough unhappy kids in my job to know it’s sometimes worth parents staying together for the sake of their kids…as long they’re willing to make an effort. No point if you’re just providing a battleground for a home.”
He felt a spurt of anger toward Jonah, of tenderness toward Megan, who’d had to prove herself every step of the way. “It’s not your fault your parents stayed together and were miserable.”
“I know that.” She tapped her head to show where she knew it. Implying her heart thought differently. “Just like I know Dad loves me, in his way. But I think,” she said in a rush, “subconsciously he associates me with an unhappy period in his life, and he can’t entirely forget that, and it’s a barrier between us.” She must have seen the shock on Travis’s face, because she said, “I don’t sit around worrying about this, it’s just a—”
Travis surged across the table and planted his mouth on hers. Tried to tell Megan with his kiss that no one in their right mind could blame her for their unhappiness, that she was beautiful and lovable, the kind of woman who could only give a guy the best kind of thoughts.
She stiffened…then melted against him in a capitulation as complete as it was unexpected, her mouth opening to him, taking what he offered. Travis ran his fingers through the honeyed silk of her hair, then cupped the back of her head as he deepened the kiss.
Megan tensed, then shoved Travis’s chest. “Stop.”
When he released her, she got up from the table, her breathing uneven, her body shaking. “What was that, a pity kiss?”
“The only person I feel sorry for right now is me,” he said, his eyes still on her lips.
“How could you do that after…everything?”
“You know I care about you.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“Uh…” He froze. “What did it mean when you said it?”
She threw her hands in the air. “Are you trying to say you love me, in your own limited way?”
He decided not to tackle the insult part of that. “Maybe I am.”
“You lied to me.” Her voice rose, and he wondered if she’d ever forget what he’d done.
“I’m trying to get you this job!”
She rubbed her face with her hands. Tired, like he was. “So you say.” She let out a long breath. “If this is love…give me your best offer, Travis.”
“What do you mean?” But he was afraid he knew.
“You have a plan for your life. I don’t fit. Something’s got to give. What will it be? Me, or your picture-perfect life?”
“You’re the one who said you don’t gamble,” he said defensively.
“That’s it,” she said. “I already have your best offer.”
He nodded. Fixed his gaze on the wall behind her because there was something in his eyes that threatened to make them water.
She stared at him for a long time. Travis reached out to touch her hair and broke the spell. She jerked away. “Not good enough, Travis.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
WITH NOTHING LEFT TO SAY about their personal relationship, Megan and Travis fell into a semisilent routine, talking only when they needed to about the prenup, drafting and redrafting clauses for the divorce settlement. When the phone rang an hour later, Megan jumped.
Travis answered it. “Hi, Dad. How’s—” He stopped, and Megan heard an indistinct outpouring from the phone. Travis cursed, and she set down her pen. There was a problem, a big one, going by his increasingly black expression.
He glanced at his watch. “Of course I’ll go. I’ll leave now, and keep you posted.” He ended the call and cursed again. “It’s Gina,” he said to Megan. “She and Scott have run off to get married.”
Megan squawked “When? Where?”
“It’s my fault. She called the night of your firm’s party and I told her I’d call her back. She said Scott had proposed.” He banged the heel of his hand against his forehead.
“You didn’t tell her to accept, did you?” Megan asked.
“Of course not, she’s only eighteen.”
“Then it’s not your fault. Stop hitting yourself and tell me what happened.”
He half smiled through his worry. And he did stop hitting himself. “Gina was purportedly staying with a friend this weekend. But the friend told her parents Gina and Scott have gone to Tennessee. To Gatlinburg.”
“For a quickie wedding,” Megan said. A bunch of towns up in the Smoky Mountains promoted themselves as wedding destinations, taking advantage of Tennessee’s relaxed marriage laws, which allowed couples to get a license instantly and marry without a waiting period or blood test.
He nodded. “The friend’s parents called my folks. Mom and Dad have tried Gina’s cell phone, but she didn’t pick up.” He pulled out his own cell, and dialed his sister. “It’s ringing.” Then, a few seconds later, he said in disgust, “Voice mail.”
Megan handed him her cell phone. “Try mine, she won’t recognize the number.”
But Gina didn’t pick up that call either.
“Dad’s asked me to go after them.” Travis handed Megan’s phone back. “Gatlinburg is two and a half, maybe three hours from here. Mom and Dad are getting on the road too, but it’ll take longer from Jackson Creek.” He thumped his fist into his other hand. “I’ll kill her, my brainless, pain in the butt sister. As if Mom and Dad don’t have enough on their minds.”
“It’s not all her fault. What about the other kid? Her boyfriend?”
“I’ll kill him, too,” Travis said irritably. “He’s not a kid, he’s twenty-four.” He grabbed his jacket from the coat hook in the hallway, then came back into the dining room. “Can you carry on without me?”
She shoveled papers into a box. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I very much doubt Gina has decided to marry a twenty-four-year-old of her own free will.”
He gaped. “You think he’s forcing her?”
She wrapped her scarf around her neck. “I think he’s making her prove her love. As you men seem to want to do.”
“Don’t compare me with some randy idiot,” he said, outraged.
She hefted the box of papers into her arms. “I’m bringing this prenup with us. Five hours in the car are too good to waste.”
“Fine. It’ll help me stop thinking about killing Gina,” he said grimly.
TRAVIS DROVE way faster than the law said he could, which meant they made it to the Smokies in just two and a half hours. It felt like less, because they spent most of the time talking about the Hoskinses.
Travis had kept in touch with his parents via cell phone as they drove. His mom and dad were an hour behind them on the road. His brothers were also on their way, traveling together.
But for now, responsibility for stopping Gina doing anything stupid rested with him.
He was glad Megan was along.
They passed the Welcome to Gatlinburg sign, a slab of timber with the words carved in an old-time font, to
ward ten-thirty.
It seemed every second shop in the town was either an outdoors store, a wedding chapel, a wedding dress rental store, or a photographer’s studio. All were heavily decorated with Christmas themes.
Megan had called her paralegal, Trisha, on the way, and asked her to find out exactly how one went about getting married here. It turned out at this time of night, it wasn’t easy—none of the independent wedding chapels were open after eight o’clock.
Trisha had spent a half hour phoning around the motels asking to be put through to Scott Taylor’s room, until she hit pay dirt. Gina and her boyfriend were staying at Cupid’s Inn Wedding Resort, a hotel with its own wedding chapel. Which probably meant they could get married any time they liked.
Which was worrying, but not as terrifying as the information vacuum they’d been in when they left Atlanta. He had Megan to thank for everything they knew—he was looking forward to telling his brothers that.
They found Cupid’s Inn on the far side of town. The main building was a log-cabin-style structure, with a row of motel rooms stretching out either side.
Travis and Megan headed straight for the bar, where they used a house phone to call Scott’s room. No reply. There was no sign of the young couple in the bar or the lobby. Megan volunteered to check the ladies’ room, while Travis tried the men’s.
“Maybe they went for a walk,” Megan said doubtfully, as they reunited in the lobby.
“It’s cold out,” Travis said.
She grabbed his arm. “Travis, over there.” She pointed to a sign that read Wedding Chapel. “Let’s go look.”
The chapel was in an annex that led off the lobby, part of the same building but tucked away. It was decorated in line with the log cabin theme: knotty pine everywhere, gingham curtains at the windows.
Near the entrance was a glass display case filled with wedding paraphernalia. Matching bride and groom baseball caps, long T-shirts printed with a wedding dress or a tuxedo, bridal veils, and bouquets of fake roses, lilies and baby’s breath. Travis couldn’t think of anything worse than celebrating a wedding with this kind of crap.
MEGAN DREW IN a breath when she spotted the young couple at the front of the chapel, heads together, engrossed in conversation. “Is that them?” she murmured to Travis.
He looked.
“Gina!” he snapped.
She jumped a mile high. Travis strode forward, pushing past Scott, and grabbed his sister by the hand. “You’re not married already, are you?” He glanced around, as if he expected to find a minister skulking behind the lectern.
Gina tugged her hand free. “Butt out, Travis.”
Megan stepped forward. “You’re just checking out the chapel, right?”
Gina glowered, but said politely, “Right. We’re getting married tomorrow morning, eight o’clock. Who are you?” She had the same dark hair as her brother and a face too dramatic to be called pretty, but which in about five years’ time would be stunning.
“Megan’s my lawyer,” Travis said menacingly. Megan rolled her eyes.
“I’m a colleague. Megan Merritt.” Megan shook Gina’s hand. “This must be your fiancé.”
“Scott,” Gina said proudly.
“I won’t let you do this,” Travis said. “You’ve just started college, you have a lot of great years ahead.”
“College isn’t that big a deal.” Gina grabbed one of the cushions from the front pew and clutched it to her chest. Megan wondered if she’d be hugging a stuffed animal at home. “I’m eighteen and I don’t need anyone’s permission to get married. I’d rather Mom and Dad approved, but it doesn’t matter if they don’t.” Her voice quivered.
“Yeah,” Scott said. A less-than-dynamic defense of his bride.
Travis eyed his sister as if he planned to throw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift and march out. Megan put a hand on his arm. “You have more choices than that, Gina. Marriage and college aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“I hate being away from Scott. It’s not enough, only getting down to Atlanta on weekends.”
“You could switch to Georgia State.”
“Duke is a great school,” Travis objected.
“What’s the point of staying in school if we both want to start a family?” Gina asked.
“A family! You do not get to throw away your life because some twenty-four-year-old pervert wants to get you pregnant,” Travis growled. “You need to go to college and get a good job before you even think about having kids.”
“You hypocrite!” Megan accused him. “You expect your wife to give up her career so she can stay home and look after your kids, but when your sister wants to do the same, you tell her she’s wasting her life. So, what, it’s just you who’s so special a woman has to give up her own life for the honor of marrying you?”
A grin split Gina’s face. “Yeah, Travis.”
Travis’s brows drew together. “I want you to have choices,” he told his sister.
“Unlike your own wife, who’ll have to do things your way,” Megan interjected.
“This is nothing to do with you,” he retorted.
“You’re so right.”
“I do have choices,” Gina said. “I can choose to go to college or to get married. I choose marriage.”
Megan charted a course between angering Travis further and pushing Gina into rebellion. “If you want marriage and kids, then you should have them.”
“She should not!”
“But there’s no hurry,” Megan continued.
“I guess,” Gina said. “But when Scott was a kid it was just him and his mom—he’s really looking forward to us having a family of our own.”
“Yeah,” Scott managed to say again.
“That’s a decision you need to be happy with, too,” Megan said. “You already have enough people in your life who want you doing things their way—” she jerked a thumb at Travis “—you probably don’t need another.”
About to protest at Megan’s undermining him, Travis finally clued in that she was making more headway with Gina than he was. Even if she’d had to label him a hypocrite to do it. And to be honest, it did sound as if Scott had pressured Gina into doing things his way.
He bit down on his desire to tell Gina exactly what he thought of her crackpot fiancé and said, “Megan’s right.”
Gina huffed. “Like you really believe that.”
“Your family loves you and—” he almost choked on the words “—Scott loves you. Listen to what we have to say, but let your instinct guide you.”
Gina loosened her grip on the cushion. “Really?”
No, not really. Really you need to get on a bus to Jackson Creek and let Dad at Scott with his shotgun. He nodded.
“Do you want to get married, Gina?” Megan asked. “In such a hurry?”
“Of course she does,” Scott said.
Deliberately, Megan swiveled her gaze to him. He was a good-looking young guy, clean-cut, Travis noticed. If Gina was a few years older, her parents would probably think him the perfect match.
Megan’s voice turned glacial in an exaggerated version of her courtroom manner. Features frozen in a disdainful glare, she said, “Excuse me, was I talking to you?”
Scott scooted backward, lips stretched in a nervous smile. “I love Gina. We’ve been dating nearly a year, it’s just no one knew about it.”
“That suggests you started dating when Gina was young enough for any intimacy to qualify as indecent assault, maybe even statutory rape,” Megan said. “How much older than her are you?”
Go, Megan! Travis ran a hand over his mouth to conceal a smirk.
Scott paled. His mouth opened, then closed again.
“Getting married now is your choice,” Megan said a whole lot more warmly to Gina. “But make sure it’s a real choice. And if you choose to start a family, make that your choice, too. Your kids deserve nothing less than a hundred percent of your love. Otherwise you’ll hurt them. Believe me, I know.”
“G
ina wouldn’t hurt our kids,” Scott protested. Once again, Megan quelled him with a glare, and he subsided into the front pew.
That gesture of resignation, of defeat, did as much as anything Megan could have said to shake Gina’s confidence. Travis saw the flicker of doubt in her eyes.
“Gina, a great marriage is something to aspire to. I know I do,” he said. “You can do a whole lot of things now that will build your character and your smarts and your creativity, so that by the time you eventually get married, you’ll know how to build a strong, equal partnership.”
He took Megan’s hand. “Look at Megan.” Her fingers fluttered in his. “She’s the most amazing woman I know. She could have been snapped up years ago—” she quivered in indignation at being likened to some grocery store commodity, and he grinned “—but she’s taking her time, making her choices. Refusing to settle for less than a guy’s best offer.”
Megan glared at him. “Gina, if you choose to get married now, Travis will respect that.”
Uh-oh, he always felt that reverse psychology stuff was a big risk.
“But don’t do anything now that will have you ending up like Travis, feeling as if you haven’t fulfilled your potential.”
Travis choked off a protest.
“Your brother has himself tied up in knots because he made the wrong choice for the right reasons,” Megan said.
“Hey,” Travis said. But Gina was lapping up the story of her brother’s flawed approach to life, so he stifled his objections.
“If you decide to go ahead with the wedding, Travis will stand alongside you to give you in marriage to Scott.” It was a masterstroke. Megan had handed the decision back to Gina in a way that would give her the strength to make the right choice. Of course, if his sister chose to go ahead, he would have to do what Megan had committed him to. He hoped he could live with that. Hoped his parents could.
Gina’s glance slid toward him, and he gave her an encouraging smile. She looked back at Megan and took a deep breath. “I want to marry Scott, but maybe not just yet.”
“You said you love me,” Scott protested. Megan gave Travis a blatant told-you-so look.