Married 'til Monday

by Denise Hunter

  “It’s great for the most part. Chaotic oftentimes, but I guess I’m used to that. And they can get in your business sometimes. That can be annoying.”

  “But they’re there when you need them.”

  “That they are. That they are.”

  “It was just my brother and me growing up.” She looked down at her project. “And now it’s just me.”

  “You have your nephews. And Bud.”

  “The boys don’t come around very often. They clash with Bud. We do wish Abby could come home more, but we know you all have a busy life.”

  Ryan had a feeling it was only Lillian who wished Abby came home more. He wished he could say they were welcome to come visit, but it would be a rude awakening when they arrived to find him alone in that big house.

  A few minutes later Lillian went to start “suppah.” Ryan alternated between watching the movie and watching Abby sleep until Bud came in and asked for his help in the garage. Ryan slipped out from under Abby and spent awhile helping Bud with his car and making awkward small talk.

  The savory smell of pork chops was drifting through the house when he came in to wash up.

  “Smells good,” he said to Lillian.

  She smiled as she finished flipping the chops, then gave the veggies on the stove a stir.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “You might want to wake Abby. Supper’ll be on the table in five minutes.”

  “Will do.”

  He walked into the living room. Abby had rolled onto her back in the corner of the couch, her head propped on the pillow he’d placed under her. She looked peaceful and beautiful, her hair flowing over the pillow, the tiny freckles on her nose visible. In their more playful times he’d pretended to kiss every one of them. She’d fought him, laughing, until the kisses led to more serious matters.

  He sank onto the couch beside her and reached out to brush a strand of hair from her cheek. “Abby?” he said quietly.

  She didn’t so much as stir, so he brushed her cheek. So soft. The citrusy smell of her shampoo wafted up to him, beckoning him. He leaned closer.

  “Abby,” he whispered.

  His fingers wandered down the curve of her cheek to the corner of her mouth. Unable to help himself, he ran his thumb along the bottom of her lush lips. His chest tightened with want. Once upon a time he’d had free rein to kiss those lips. What he’d give to have that now. He’d never take her for granted again.

  “I guess there’s only one way to wake Sleeping Beauty,” Lillian said from the living room threshold, a tender smile on her face.

  Ryan’s heart gave an extra thump as his gaze returned to Abby’s face. To her lips. He shouldn’t. She was sleeping. Vulnerable. Helpless. But her mom was watching, and it was just a tiny kiss.

  Abby was in her bed at her apartment. Ryan was beside her, and they were still married. She felt the whisper of his breath on her cheek, felt his leg brush against hers and wondered why he’d worn jeans to bed.

  “Abby,” he said.

  His fingers fluttered through her hair. Across her face. She smiled at the sheer bliss of it. A question niggled: Why was Ryan in her apartment? And how could they still be married?

  She pushed the questions away. If she was dreaming, she didn’t want to waken.

  “Abby,” he said again, her name like honey on his lips. She’d always loved his voice. Low and husky, it caught at a place deep in her stomach.

  His lips brushed hers, and her heart fluttered. So good. So tender. As soft as a butterfly’s wings. But then he was gone.

  She opened her eyes.

  Ryan hovered inches away. She was vaguely aware she wasn’t in her apartment anymore. She’d been dreaming. But it didn’t matter when she looked at Ryan, his eyes at half-mast, filled with wariness and something else. Her eyes traveled down to his lips. She wanted them back on hers more than she wanted her next breath.

  She let loose of the wispy edges of her dream, pulling him forward. His lips met hers again, and her soul gave a contented sigh. She ran her palms over the scruff of his jaw, eager to touch, hungry to taste. He obliged her, deepening the kiss. Her hands climbed the solid wall of his chest. Her fingers dove into his hair while he worked his magic on her mouth.

  He touched her like she was heirloom china, delicate and precious. He always had. She’d missed this, ached for it in the quiet of night when loneliness was like a cement block on the center of her chest.

  “Ah, you two lovebirds.” Mom’s voice was a pinprick to a balloon.

  Abby pulled away, her eyes fixing on Ryan, her breath shallow.

  “You’re like newlyweds still.” Mom turned back into the kitchen. “Supper’s on the table.”

  Abby’s thoughts spun, the blissful moments fading as the sequence of events registered.

  It had been a show. Just a show. Ryan’s kiss had been all pretense. She was the one who’d made it into something more.

  Her face heated until she was burning alive under the blanket her mom must’ve thrown over her. She held it tightly in her hand, tearing her eyes from Ryan’s. She couldn’t bear to see what he was thinking.

  Abby swallowed. “Well, she—she—I guess she bought it then.” She tossed the blanket aside, scooting off the couch as fast as she could move.

  “Abby . . .”

  “I have to wash up.”

  Abby took her time in the bathroom. She’d been foggy from the dream. Hadn’t known what she was doing.

  Really, Abby?

  She’d covered well, hadn’t she? Ryan didn’t have to know she’d been blissfully unaware of her mom’s presence. That she was kissing him back because she wanted to. Needed to. As far as he was concerned, she’d been playing a part. Just like him.

  When she entered the kitchen, Ryan was helping Mom get the food on the table.

  Dad entered from the garage, loud and careless. “Who’s the genius who parked in the lowest point in the drive?” His eyes fastened on Abby.

  Oh, no. Her mind went back to the night before. She’d parked as close as she could to the back door to unload the party supplies.

  “Did it flood?” she asked.

  “Of course it flooded, girl. The ravine always floods.”

  Abby’s eyes bounced off Ryan as he washed up. Her dad had a way of making her feel dumber than a brick.

  “How bad is it?” Mom asked.

  “It was up to the body, at least. Car sits so low ’cause of those puny tires.” He scowled at Abby. “What were you thinking?”

  Ryan’s hand touched the small of her back. “I’ll go see if it starts.”

  “Now, don’t do that,” Mom said. “It can wait. Food’s warm, and the car isn’t going anywhere for now.”

  Supper seemed to drag on forever. Abby’s dad continued to harp on her, for everything from the car to her nap to the gift she’d given them for their anniversary.

  “Now, Bud, you know I’ve been wanting to go there.” Her mom’s cheerful voice was an attempt to lighten the conversation.

  “Only time I can get away is winter, and what would we do in Smitten then? Ski?” He scowled at Abby. “You know I have a bad knee. Use the brains God gave ya.”

  Ryan’s fork clattered to the table. He nailed Bud with a death glare, his jaw set. “Enough, Bud.”

  Dad finished chewing, his beady eyes never leaving Ryan. “There a problem, son?”

  “Yeah, there’s a problem. You’re talking to your daughter like she’s a piece of crap.”

  “You telling me how to talk to my daughter? In my house? At my table?”

  “I won’t let you talk to my wife that way.”

  Dad and Ryan stared each other down.

  “Anyone want another chop?” Mom asked. “There’s two left. Abby?”

  “No thanks, Mom.”

  “I think I might make brownies later. With vanilla frosting, the way you like, Bud.”

  The meal commenced, her mom trying to smooth the awkwardness with chatter, but the conversation fizzled. By
the time the meal was over, Abby would’ve stepped into a hurricane to escape the tension. She felt about the size of a flea, and just about as useful.

  She followed Ryan down the walkway, holding Boo in her arms. Sticks and debris cluttered the yard and drive. Clusters of old leaves and branches hung around the tires of her little yellow car, the ground beneath it a soppy mess.

  She looked at the aftermath and called herself all kinds of stupid. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “You were thinking it was pouring rain, and this was closest to the door. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “If my car doesn’t start, we’re stuck here until it’s fixed. That could be days, you know that, right?”

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “It will not be fine if I have to stay here any longer.” Despite her efforts to be calm, her voice quivered.

  “Hey.” He stopped, cupping her arm. “We don’t have to stick around here. If worse comes to worst we can move to a hotel. Find other things to do. Beau texted while we were eating and invited us over to the Roadhouse with your cousins. We’ll head over there next, okay?”

  That might be fun. Better than staying here anyway. “All right.”

  His thumb brushed the bare skin of her arm, his eyes locked on hers. “I don’t remember your dad being so mean. I was about to come out of my seat in there.”

  “Don’t bother. He’s not going to change.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not going to let him talk to you that way.”

  Her heart squeezed at his words, at the way he was looking at her. She thought of the kiss they’d shared. Calculated or not, it had been sweet and passionate. Everything she remembered. The thought of never kissing him again caused a pinch in her chest.

  Abby stepped away from the warmth in his eyes and started for the car. “Let’s see if it starts.”

  Ryan caught up with her and took the keys from her hand. “No sense getting your pretty shoes dirty.”

  She stopped at the edge of the walk. Ryan’s shoes slurped in the mud as he approached the car. He opened the door and felt around inside. “Floor’s damp. Seats are dry, though. Maybe it didn’t get very high.”

  Abby held her breath as he stuck the key in the ignition, smothering the prayer that rose in her throat. It wasn’t like God cared anyway.

  The car’s engine gave an effort but didn’t turn over. Come on, car. I can’t take another day.

  Ryan turned the key a second time. The engine made a valiant attempt. It rolled over once. Twice. So close. So . . . the engine caught and turned over.

  Her breath rushed out. Yes!

  “Thank You, God.” Ryan looked over, smiling. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The Down East Roadhouse was located on the rocky shore of Summer Harbor, just south of town. It was a rustic two-story shanty made of weathered shaker shingles and strung with lobster trap buoys and fishing nets.

  Behind the building, waves crashed onto the rocky shoreline, and a seagull called out as it soared overhead.

  Ryan shut off the engine and got out of the car. The sun was finally out, hanging low in the sky, and the temperature had risen after the storm. Though he was glad for another chance to see Beau, mostly he just wanted to get Abby away from her dad. He’d come so close to hauling the man up by the collar of his shirt.

  He scanned the near-empty lot. “Where is everybody?”

  “He probably closed it. It’s usually pretty busy on Sundays. Locals know where the good food is.”

  “One of your cousins owns it, right?”

  She stepped over a puddle in the gravel lot. “Zac, the middle one. He lives in an apartment upstairs.”

  “The one who’s engaged?”

  “Right. Lucy seems nice. Beau said she came passing through town last year and decided to stay.”

  “They seem pretty happy.”

  Ryan set his hand on Abby’s back as they climbed the wooden steps. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her. Besides, except for Beau, her cousins thought they were still married, and he was planning to take advantage of that while he could. In the morning they’d be on the road again. No need for pretense anymore.

  The red awning whipped overhead as Ryan opened the door for her. The walk-through opened to a large room with high ceilings. Tables and booths filled the space. His eyes swept across the dim interior, across the rustic beams and plank flooring. An old brick wall lined one side of the room, covered with at least a hundred license plates, and a wall of windows faced the ocean, letting in the evening light. He could see why the locals liked it. It had a nice vibe.

  The place smelled of sea air and onion rings, and the tempting aroma of good, strong coffee lingered.

  He heard the clack of pool balls, then voices and laughter.

  “Reminds me of Cappy’s,” he said, referring to the popular hangout in Chapel Springs.

  “Without the pizza and questionable salad bar.”

  He followed her through to a back room where Zac was bent over the table, pool stick poised for a shot. Zac was sturdy-looking, well over six feet with black hair and a scruff of beard.

  “Hey, you made it.” Beau hugged Abby and gave Ryan a shoulder bump. His girlfriend, Paige, greeted Ryan and Abby with hugs.

  “Game’s almost over,” Beau said. “I’m about to kick Zac’s butt.”

  Zac sank a ball, giving Beau a smug look.

  “Where’s Riley?” Abby asked, referring to her other cousin.

  Beau chalked up. “He made up some lame excuse about helping his neighbor.”

  Paige elbowed Beau. “It wasn’t lame.” Her eyes swung to Abby. “He’s helping chop up a big tree that fell across his neighbor’s driveway.”

  Ryan had learned at the party that Riley and Paige had been best friends for years. She’d started dating his brother recently. He wondered how much stress that little triangle had caused—or would cause in the future.

  Abby and Ryan played Beau and Paige in a game of pool while Zac fried up some hot wings. They helped themselves to drinks and settled in a round corner booth. Ryan set his arm along the top of the booth behind Abby, and as the night wore on, he dropped it to her shoulders. By the end of the night his arm was curled around her, his fingers stroking her upper arm. And she didn’t push him away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE SMELL OF GRILLED CHEESE SANDWICHES STILL lingered in the air as Abby made her way down the stairs with her suitcase. Boo danced around, knowing the baggage meant a trip. Abby found her mom in the kitchen washing lunch dishes. Her dad leaned over the counter, scanning the main section of the paper.

  They’d received word a couple hours after lunch that the bridge was open. Abby had taken Ryan out to Shadow Bay for the morning to see the pretty homes and colorful boats dotting the sea. Next they’d gone to the Mangy Moose Gift Emporium. She’d bought her mom a sampling of jellies and a fresh blueberry pie.

  There’d been nothing but tension since their return. She couldn’t wait to get out of this house.

  “We’re all ready.” Abby grabbed her mug and took a sip, wishing Ryan would hurry.

  Mom dried her hands and moved over to Abby’s side. “You’ve been gone so much, I hardly feel like I got to spend time with you.”

  “You know me, Mom. I’m not much for sitting around the house. It was fun catching up with the cousins last night. I really like Paige. I hope it works out with her and Beau.”

  “She’s been Riley’s best friend for years, you know.”

  “He wasn’t there last night.”

  “I’m not surprised. I’ve noticed he removes himself from the group when Paige is around.” She gave Abby a poignant look. “I think he may have fallen for his best friend.”

  “Really?” Abby hoped not. Riley and Beau had always been so close. She didn’t want a woman coming between the brothers. “Did he tell you that?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. And maybe I’m wrong. It’s just a feeling I get when I’m with them. You won’t sa
y anything.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I’m sure it’ll work itself out.”

  Ryan’s footfalls sounded on the steps, and she felt his presence as he entered the room behind her.

  “That should be it,” he said.

  Dad came over, standing across from her, hands braced on his hips. The smell of Old Spice wrapped around her, choking off her breath.

  Ryan placed his hand in the small of her back. “I’ll load the car.”

  Abby drained her cup. “I’ll go with you. Boo needs to go out. Come on, Boo,” she said, turning toward the door.

  Dad’s arm flew up. She flinched, her heart pounding at the sudden movement.

  He paused, then calmly grabbed the mug in her hand, smirking.

  She let loose of the cup, belatedly, then ran a hand through her hair, trying to cover her overreaction. Her eyes bounced off Ryan.

  A frown creased his brow.

  Heat crawled up Abby’s neck, filling her face.

  Mom patted Dad’s shoulder. “You and that silly mug.” She looked at Abby. “It’s his favorite.”

  A phone buzzed.

  “I think that’s you, de-ah,” Mom said to Ryan.

  “Come on, Boo,” Abby said, her voice shaking. “Let’s go potty.” Her heart was a jackhammer in her chest. She slipped out the door, vaguely aware of Ryan answering his phone, greeting his mom. Boo did her business while Ryan loaded the car, still on the phone.

  He put his mom on hold long enough to say good-bye. Abby’s mom ran back into the house and then back out, handing her a photo of her and Ryan dancing at the party.

  “Ellen Mays dropped some photos off a bit ago. I thought you might like this one.”

  “Thanks.” Abby set it on the console, barely giving it a glance, then she pulled from the drive, a weight the size of a boulder rolling off her shoulders.

  She was glad for the phone call that distracted Ryan. Maybe, if he’d noticed her flinching, he’d forget it by the time his mom was finished with him.

  She thought of the mug her dad had grabbed from her and remembered another day, another glass.

  She was eleven and had just returned from an overnight at her friend Zoe’s house. They’d played games and watched movies late into the night, and in the morning her friend’s mom made corned beef hash, johnnycake, eggs, and baked beans. They’d eaten so much they’d skipped lunch. Now it was past suppertime, and Abby was getting hungry again, but Mom and Dad weren’t home.