“Her parents are having an anniversary celebration, and I want to see Beau. He’s going through a rough time.”
“And you’re going with Abby,” Madison said.
Ryan snatched a pair of his dad’s tennis shoes from the box and plunked them on the table. “That’s what I said.”
“He wants to win her back.”
He could feel the long disapproving look between his sisters and his mom. Fine by him. He didn’t need their approval. He was a grown man, made his own decisions. He’d wallowed in his pain long enough. This opportunity had landed in his lap, and he was pretty sure it had been put there by God Himself. He wasn’t about to turn it down, not if the whole town of Chapel Springs protested on his front lawn.
He’d been able to think of little else since seeing Abby yesterday. One look into those sea-green eyes and he’d known there was no turning back.
You’ve got my back, right, God?
He lifted the empty box and tossed it into the corner with the others. “I have to take off. Gotta pack and get some things caught up before I go.”
Mom caught his arm as he passed. “Honey, please. Think twice about this. You’re opening a can of worms.” Her fingers pressed into his bicep. “Why would you do this, when it’s finally over?”
His heart softened as he stared into her worried eyes. “That’s just it, Mom. It’s not over. It never was.”
Abby took the last bite of her steaming lasagna and pushed her plate away. “I’m stuffed. Why’d you talk me into the cheesy bread?”
“Because I’m your best friend,” Gillian Rogers said. “And it’s the best cheesy bread in the city.”
They were having dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, Buca di Beppo. The portions were the size of Abby’s head, and she’d actually finished hers. She didn’t think she’d be hungry until lunch tomorrow at least.
You’ll be with Ryan by then.
She shoved the little voice into the recesses of her mind.
Gillian pushed back the remnants of her own lasagna and wiped her mouth with the red napkin. With her wavy brown hair and wide smile, she looked like Rachel McAdams with the addition of a trendy pair of glasses.
Their relationship was fun and easy, never too serious. Kind of ironic, given Gillian’s work as a psychologist. Abby met Gillian when she’d interviewed her for the Star, and they’d bonded immediately. She wasn’t the type to suggest a trip to a day spa or chatting over manicures, and it was just as well.
“So, there’s this conference at my church in a couple weeks I thought we could go to. Fabulous speaker, excellent music. What do you say?”
“You’re not very subtle, for a shrink.”
Gillian had been trying to lure her back into church for months.
“It’s called Women of Worth. The focus will be leadership and success in the workplace. I thought it might be inspiring, in light of your quest to procure that promotion.”
“Uh-huh.”
“At least think about it.”
Abby didn’t need to think about it. She’d been to this kind of thing before, and no matter what the focus was, it all revolved around God. Maybe that had floated her boat at one time, but these days it was a total turnoff.
“I don’t think so. But feel free to invite me to the next fifty church events.”
Gillian gave her a cheeky smile. “I will.”
While Gillian touched up her lip balm, Abby checked her texts. The one Ryan had sent earlier sat on the screen unanswered. He wanted to meet in the parking lot of a restaurant, for some reason. She opened up the text, typed a one-word response, then pocketed her phone.
“I’d better get home,” Abby said. “I still haven’t packed.”
“So you’re really going to do this?”
Abby raised her brows. “Go home for my parents’ thirty-fifth anniversary? Yes.”
“With your ex-husband.”
Abby shifted in her chair. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” The warning flares that had been going off inside since his appearance yesterday notwithstanding.
Gillian tilted her head, her face a bland mask, her mouth tipping up in a benign smile. “Are you aware that you never solicit my advice? You know I assist people in making critical life decisions, right?”
“I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
“You’ve never really said much about him.”
Abby shifted. “What’s with the personal stuff all of a sudden?”
“I’m your friend. It’s part of your past—and soon to be future.”
“Ryan’s not part of my future. It’s just a road trip.”
“I believe a road trip is defined as two or more people confined in a vehicle for multiple days. I’m no expert but—wait, yes I am—and I’m thinking this is going to be quite a strain on you. I just don’t know if you’ve really thought it through.”
“Of course I’ve thought it through. We’ll be travel partners, that’s all. ‘Can you turn up the air?’ ‘We need to head north on 95.’ That kind of thing.”
Gillian looked at her like she was crazy.
“What?”
“You can’t really believe that’s how it’s going to go.”
“Everything doesn’t always have to be complicated.”
The server came and dropped their bill at the table.
“Why’s he going with you again?” Gillian asked.
“I told you, he wants to see my cousin.” Abby fished for her wallet and withdrew her credit card.
“He wants to see your cousin.”
Abby gave her a look. “Beau’s his best friend, and he just lost his dad. We’ve been through this.”
“I’m just saying . . . don’t be surprised if—”
Abby shook her head. “There’s no if. I’ll be back next Monday, and everything will be exactly like it is now. You’ll see.”
Chapter Six
ABBY PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT OFF THE ALLEY, following Ryan’s directions. She took a space at the back of the empty lot and turned off her car. Boo’s head lifted from the passenger seat.
She set the GPS for tonight’s hotel, then looked up at the sprawling mansion, still darkened in the morning light—PJ’s new home and restaurant, according to her brother. She’d apparently come a long way from the flighty teenager she’d been when Abby and Ryan were married.
Abby checked the time, wiping her sweaty hands down the sides of her shorts. She’d been a nervous wreck since Ryan had burst back into her life two days ago. She was sleep deprived and antsy and irritable.
Why was she doing this? The thought of being alone with him for so many hours made her chest feel hollow.
An engine rumbled as a truck pulled into the slot beside her. The shiny blue Silverado dwarfed her Fiat.
“Well, here we go, Boo. Ready or not.” She stepped out and met Ryan at the back of her car. He clutched a gray duffel bag and wore that sleepy look she used to love. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
He eyed her Fiat, then tossed his duffel bag beside her suitcase on the folded backseats. “This is what we’re driving, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Good thing I pack light.”
She shut the trunk. “It gets good gas mileage.”
He tweaked a brow. “It’s yellow.”
“You don’t miss a thing.”
Getting in the car, she scooped up Boo, who yapped at Ryan as he opened the passenger door.
She stroked the dog’s back. “Shh, Boo. He’s a friend—more or less,” she muttered.
“Sure you don’t want to take my truck?”
And let him take over her road trip? She didn’t think so. “I’m sure.”
She almost took it back when Ryan got into the car. The bucket seats were inches apart. He let his seat back until it was even with hers, and their shoulders brushed. She suddenly wished for short, stubby legs. Or a bigger car. A much bigger car.
“I’d be happy to drive.”
He was like
ly to stop at every interesting exit and run her tank empty looking for the cheapest gas. “Wouldn’t want you turning in your man card.”
“I pretty much turned it in when I got in your car.”
She set Boo behind her and snapped her belt in place with a loud click. “Feel free to stay behind.”
“Relax, I’m kidding.”
And that was the problem, wasn’t it? She didn’t see herself relaxing for the next six days. She turned up the radio and pulled out. Boo eased forward and sniffed Ryan. He held out his hand, then scratched behind her ears.
Abby cast a look at the front of PJ’s mansion as they passed. “Does your family know about this?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet they loved it.”
She’d gotten along all right with his family at first, as well as could be expected under the circumstances. About the time their marriage had started unraveling, when she’d stopped going to church, she’d started feeling like an outsider. Apparently their love—or maybe it had only been affection—was conditional.
Ryan settled back in his seat, his shoulder brushing hers again. She shivered at the touch, then covered by turning down the air. Darn it. Why did he still have that kind of power over her?
“Where are we stopping the first night?” he asked. “Hey, what about Cleveland? The Indians are playing the Cubs. I think they’re at home tonight. Want me to check?”
“Cleveland’s only five hours away. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
“We have time. We could hit the mall and have dinner before the game.”
“Since when do you like to shop?” He used to begrudge every dollar she spent.
“I don’t, but you do. If you don’t want to shop, they have some nice parks with lots of trails. I’ll bet your pooch would like that.”
“Boo.”
“Okay, well I’m sure we can find something else to do.”
“No. My dog. Her name is Boo. And I have this entire trip planned out. I’m stopping in Buffalo and Boston, and we’re not taking side trips or stopping at random towns or picking up hitchhikers because they look like they need a friend.”
“It was one time. And you have to admit he was a nice guy.”
She gave him a pointed look.
He put his hands up, palms out. “I’m just along for the ride.”
They made it to the interstate in relative silence. She set the cruise and settled back in her seat.
“So what are we doing in Buffalo?”
She should’ve known the quiet wasn’t going to last. Might as well get this straight right now. She spared him a glance. “I am going to see Niagara Falls. I have no idea what you’re going to do.”
Boo stepped forward and eased onto Ryan’s leg. He scooped her up, and she flopped down on his lap, laying her head down with a sigh. Traitor.
“Where’s your ring?” he asked.
She thumbed Nana’s ring. “Right here.”
“I mean your wedding ring.”
Oh, that. She wiped her sweaty palms down her legs. “In my purse.” She wasn’t putting that thing on until she had to. She risked a glance at Ryan’s hand, resting on Boo’s body. His silver wedding band encircled his ring finger. Nothing like getting an early start.
She was surprised he hadn’t sold it and paid down the principal on his mortgage or something.
Then again, it wasn’t worth much. Though it had seemed like a lot at the time—everything she’d saved from working at the doughnut shop. Her engagement ring, on the other hand, was more impressive. He’d given it to her just before graduation, the week after she’d told him about the baby.
“So what are you doing these days? Still writing?”
She shook the memory away, melancholy settling over her anyway. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, but she knew he wouldn’t leave her alone until they were caught up.
“I freelanced for a while, but now I’m a private investigator.”
She felt his long look, saw his head tilt in her peripheral vision.
She squirmed in her seat. She’d loved writing investigative pieces for the Star, but she hadn’t earned enough to support herself.
“So you do stakeouts and stuff?”
“Something like that.” Most people pictured a scrawny man sucking on a pipe when they thought of a PI. In actuality it took a lot of nerve to stick your nose into people’s lives and pull out the dirty stuff. Sometimes she went home reeking of garbage. Sometimes the stench had nothing to do with trash cans.
“It suits you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing . . . just . . . you know, your investigative skills. Plus you’ve got a lot of guts. I imagine that comes in handy in your line of work.”
The compliment surprised her. He really thought she had guts? Sometimes she felt like she was drowning in fear.
“How’d you get involved in it?” he asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “I started part-time, and once I got promoted I didn’t have time to freelance for the paper. It was more lucrative than writing.”
“I’ll bet. And you still get to expose the bad guy.”
That part still gave her such a thrill. Each case was like her own personal mystery novel come to life.
“I’m still at the high school,” he offered, “though I teach junior English now. Last year was my first year as head coach. We made it to regionals.”
“Congratulations.”
Football was a sore subject. It had seemed like all he’d cared about the last year of their marriage. If he wasn’t practicing he was viewing tapes, and if he wasn’t viewing tapes he was working on game plans. She’d spent most of her evenings alone, dinner congealing on the table while the grandfather clock ticked off time in the too-quiet house. It didn’t help that his first love, Cassidy Zimmerman, worked in the school office.
“Don’t you have practice this week?”
“Took some time off. I also quit the fire department. There isn’t enough time for that anymore.”
She let silence fall over the car, relaxing as the miles passed quietly. Ryan texted on his phone, occasionally making comments about the changing scenery. They stopped for food and gas in Columbus, walked Boo at a rest stop near the Pennsylvania state line, and got stuck in construction traffic as they neared Buffalo.
When they finally arrived at the hotel it was nearly six o’clock, and Abby had a raging headache.
Ryan flipped the channel on the hotel’s TV and rearranged his pillows. This wasn’t going as he’d hoped. Abby was running around sightseeing, and he was stuck at the hotel watching SportsCenter highlights.
He hadn’t seen her since check-in. She’d refused his offer to grab dinner at the diner across the street and had left after dropping her suitcase in her third-floor room. He’d eaten dinner alone, then paced around his room, wondering what to do next.
He needed a game plan. Sitting side by side in silence wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Though having her close was nice. There were perks to riding in a car the size of a pinto bean. But she was as distant and withdrawn as she’d been when he’d first met her.
He only had five more days, and he’d wasted the entire evening—critical hours he could’ve spent reminding her why they’d fallen in love. First he had to earn her trust again, starting with friendship. Once they arrived in Summer Harbor, he’d up his game. They were supposed to be married, after all. They were expected to be affectionate, and he planned on taking full advantage.
He’d scaled Abby’s walls once before. He could do it again. And this time he wouldn’t blow it.
Chapter Seven
ABBY SIGNALED RIGHT AND MOVED INTO THE MIDDLE lane. Only two hours into the drive, and she was already headed for another headache. It didn’t help that Ryan was so talky and that he was spitting sunflower seeds out the window every two seconds with an annoying pthuh.
She’d gotten in early last night, but she’d lain awake until almost midnight, her mind heavy with th
oughts of Ryan, their marriage, and her parents. The air conditioner woke her each time it kicked on, and a kid next door didn’t seem to have an indoor voice—or a bedtime. Somehow the little rug rat still managed to be up bright and early, waking her before dawn.
She gave in to a big yawn.
“I caught the weather channel last night. It looks like there’s a big storm moving up the East Coast. Did your mom mention it?” Pthuh.
“A nor’easter?”
“Looks like.”
“She didn’t mention it. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. The summer ones are usually mild.” She hoped it wouldn’t keep people from their party though.
“How were the falls?” Pthuh.
She turned up the air conditioning to compensate for the hot air coming through his open window. It was almost eighty-five degrees already. Boo crept onto her lap and curled up into a ball.
“Big. Beautiful.”
“Where’d you eat?”
She tried to keep the frustration from her voice. “Some place downtown.”
“The diner across the street was pretty good. The waitress was from Boston, and she was telling me that Blue Man Group is in town. I know you’ve always wanted to see them. We should go tonight.” Pthuh.
Darn it. She’d love to see them, but not with Ryan. “I’m going to Fan Pier, so you’ll need to take a taxi if you want to go to the show.” It was one of the few tourist spots that held no memories with Ryan.
“No, that’s okay. Fan Pier sounds good.”
She slowed as they hit Syracuse traffic. “I’m going alone, Ryan.”
“Come on, Red.”
His old nickname for her, the low tone of his voice made her stomach clench. “Don’t call me that.”
“Hey, we should stop in at BC and see Professor Swinson.”
“I’m pretty sure your artwork is still giving her nightmares.”
Pthuh.
“And can you not do that, please?”
“Do what?”
“Spit sunflower seeds!”
His brows popped up. “It didn’t bother you when we were married.”
“Yes. It did.”
His laser beam stare warmed her cheeks, annoying her further. Why did he have to make her so uncomfortable? This was supposed to be a nice, peaceful trip.
Married 'til Monday Page 4