Chapter 24

Nick was half asleep and pretty sure he’d heard Marabelle wrong. He’d left his parents’ place at six in the morning to catch a flight back to Raleigh, and he hadn’t had his morning coffee yet, when his cell indicated a voice message from her. Something about leaving for Birmingham for a meeting. What meeting would she have in Birmingham?

He pressed the phone to his ear again. Damn. She wouldn’t be home until Saturday night. If he knew Marabelle, she was probably chasing another celebrity, like Bradley Cooper or Rafael Nadal, to con them into participating in her school auction. Nick had texted her back, but she hadn’t responded.

A wave of disappointment rushed over him. He’d looked forward to getting back to her. He had missed her and wanted to get their relationship back on track. They had made huge progress in the last few weeks, and he didn’t want any setbacks. And Nick knew only too well that the slightest thing could set him back. Just flying down to see his parents had been a risk, especially after the kitchen episode with his sister.

Marabelle had been mortified at meeting his sister, wearing only his shirt. He couldn’t have cared less, but she had some warped image of the way people perceived her, and she was always in great fear of screwing up. Thanks to Edna.

Nick knew Natalie would come around in time and love Marabelle as much as he did. And there was never any doubt about his parents. They were already over the moon from the stories he’d shared with them. His mother couldn’t stop beaming and hinting about babies. He agreed it all had a nice ring to it. He wanted that family his mother gushed over. He wanted it with Marabelle. And deep down he knew it wouldn’t hurt his career either.

Now he needed to convince Marabelle. He leaned his head back on the cushioned headrest in first class and stretched out his legs, closing his eyes in an attempt to relax. But try as he might, he couldn’t get Marabelle’s message about Birmingham out of his head. Marabelle’s impulsivity always made him nervous.

Very nervous.

* * *

Once again, Beau found himself between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, he had Marabelle acting like a frightened kitten, ducking for cover, and on the other hand, he had Coach, who controlled his career. He’d be real smart to remember that one.

This time he was not getting involved. Little Mary-bell could fend for herself. He didn’t want to be within striking distance when the bullets started to fly.

Right. Who was he kidding? Mary-bell really sucked at this deception stuff. She sucked at falling in love, and she sucked at knowing when something was right and when it was wrong. What she had with Coach was right.

What she planned to do was wrong.

“Damn,” Beau muttered as he hopped in his Escalade and headed for Cherokee headquarters. He didn’t know how much Coach knew, but he had a strong hunch Marabelle hadn’t told him about the interview. And he’d bet his right testicle she hadn’t told him about those pregnancy tests.

Beau hesitated before rapping his knuckles on Coach’s office door. “Here goes nothing,” he mumbled.

Fifteen minutes later, he left Coach Frasier’s office with a cramp in his side and a full-blown headache. Had he done the right thing? After the look on Coach’s face when he ratted out Marabelle, he wasn’t so sure. This sucked. He felt terrible. Marabelle had begged him not to breathe a word. And there’d be hell to pay if she ever found out. She was his friend, and he didn’t want her to get hurt, but he couldn’t see any good coming out of her running away and leaving all her friends and Coach behind.

Coach had sat frozen like an iceberg, with eyes to match. The only movement Beau had detected was a tic in his right jaw that looked downright painful. As he stumbled through the explanation, he could see Coach becoming more and more remote.

He hurried on to explain that Marabelle was running scared, and he and Paula had tried to talk her off the ledge. It hadn’t made a difference.

In a word…Coach was furious.

Beau had broken out in a cold sweat as he’d watched Coach’s eyes go from chips of ice to bloody daggers. For once, he was glad he’d never had to play against him, because he was one scary mother when he was really angry.

He’d done his best to plead Marabelle’s case. He’d ended by saying, “For what it’s worth, she loves you but is too paralyzed to admit it. She’s got some serious self-esteem issues. She doesn’t think she’s worthy of love. Something about her parents’ relationship”—Coach had never even blinked—“for what it’s worth.”

* * *

Nick sat for what felt like hours in his office, replaying Beau’s conversation in his head. Furious didn’t begin to describe his feelings.

He wanted to roar, pound his chest, drag her off to his cave, and never let her go.

Had he been flying solo throughout this whole relationship? Was he the only one who felt something every time they were together?

Not just when they were together. All the time. Every damn day.

What a freakin’ moron.

To think he’d gotten excited about making their engagement official and actually setting a date. He’d even told his parents. Hell, he was even considering Marty Hackman’s press conference. Nick wanted to announce it to the world. He winced, thinking of what Marty would say now, not to mention what he might do to Nick’s career.

All these years, he’d managed to avoid marriage, dodging all kinds of women who wanted a piece of him. Beautiful women, placed on this earth to do nothing but look good and cater to his every whim. But he hadn’t wanted to be put in a vulnerable position…until now. What a stupid schmuck.

Now the one person he’d decided to take the plunge with wanted to run away. All this time, she’d been off plotting some covert operation on how to get away from him. She’d planned to pack up and move to another city. Another state.

While possibly carrying his baby.

Over his dead body.

He’d handcuff her to his side before he’d ever let that happen.

He couldn’t believe he’d thought they loved each other and had a committed relationship. Had he seen only what he’d wanted to see? Okay, so she’d insisted she only wanted an affair, but that had to be nerves or fear talking. He’d never believed it. He’d thought he really knew her. He’d thought Marabelle loved him. How could he have been so wrong?

A buzzer sounded, and he became aware of Chantal’s voice over the intercom. She’d interrupted his mental tirade to announce he had a call from Elizabeth Prichard.

Nick took a deep, slow breath and picked up the phone. After a few strained pleasantries, he tried not to howl out loud as he gnashed his teeth.

“Anyway, I just thought you might want to know what I overheard at the meeting on Wednesday night regarding Marabelle,” Elizabeth said.

His ears perked right up. “Tell me.”

“Those two women, Carol Evans and the other one, her name escapes me for the moment”—Nick knew she meant the Blondie Twins—“they were talking about some job in Birmingham at Trinity Academy’s sister school. Apparently they have some contact there, and they’ve arranged for the school to offer Marabelle a job.”

“What?” He sounded choked to his own ears. Marabelle was set up? That still didn’t excuse the fact that she went for it and never discussed it with him. As if he didn’t matter.

“Yeah. They seemed delighted about how easily Marabelle went for it,” Elizabeth said, sounding disgusted. “Do you know anything about it? I’m really worried about her.”

“No,” he growled, “but I will.”

* * *

“Here’s to a very successful open house,” Ginger Jones said, lifting a flute of chilled champagne in Carol Evans’s large breakfast room.

Carol clinked glasses with hers. “That’s wonderful news. Serious buyers or just snoopers?”

“Several couples were very serious. I’ll follow up with phone calls. But I have even more good news.” Ginger’s lips curled into a sly smile.

“Do tell.”

“It seems Operation Get Rid of Marabelle is working like a charm.”

Carol’s eyebrows shot straight up. “What have you heard?”

Ginger savored the bubbly champagne on her tongue before answering. “I called my cousin, the dean of students, in Birmingham, and he said Marabelle’s interview went very well. The school has already made her an offer, and they want her to start right away.”

“Has she accepted?”

“He wasn’t sure, but she only has a couple of days to make up her mind. They need to know ASAP.”

Carol drummed her French-manicured nails on the glass kitchen table. “Do you think we can sweeten the pot…you know, encourage her to go somehow?”

“Already thought of that, and taken care of it.”

“Really?” Carol sounded surprised. “What do you mean?”

Ginger’s gaze darted around the room to make sure they were alone; her voice lowered. “Let’s just say somehow the school here knows all about her interview. And they’re not too happy about it. She might not have a choice after all.”

Carol’s eyes widened as her mouth fell open. Her look of shock gave Ginger a moment of discomfort. But she’d only taken care of a problem Carol and the other women had talked about but didn’t know how to solve.

“They wouldn’t fire her, would they?” Carol sounded uneasy. “I’m the first to admit I find Miss Fairchild annoying, but I don’t want to be a party to interfering with her right to make a living.”

Her tone unnerved Ginger just a twinge. She didn’t want this to come back and trip her up. She had spread a little useful gossip to the right people to better the cause for everyone’s sake. Carol should be thankful.

It wouldn’t be wise to upset her newest client. Ginger said, “I seriously doubt they’ll fire her. I’m sure they’ll let her know in no uncertain terms they are onto her. Marabelle will have to make a decision one way or another without too much delay. Everything will work out. Don’t worry.”

“If you say so,” Carol said in a doubtful tone.

Ginger touched her hand. “And with any luck, maybe we can convince Nick to get up on that auction block.” And back in my bed.

* * *

Marabelle had reached a final decision on her taxi ride home from the airport Saturday evening. She really liked the school in Birmingham. They had made her a generous offer, but as she sat staring out the dark window of the car, she knew she could never pull the trigger. No way could she leave her house she’d worked so hard to buy, or her cute neighborhood, or friends who meant so much to her, old and new. No way. She loved all of it too much.

A calmness came over her. No way could she leave Nick.

She loved him most of all.

If this weekend revealed anything, it proved she didn’t have the strength or the heart to leave him. She needed to give their relationship a chance. If she left town now, she’d never know if he really loved her or not.

She stiffened her backbone. From this moment forward, Doubt would no longer tell her what to do. She’d be kicking it to the curb. No more running and hiding. Marabelle would face her fears and conquer them. Just because Edna and Ed were screwed-up didn’t mean she was doomed. She could and did have a normal relationship with Nick. And just because Edna thought she never made the right decisions or choices didn’t mean Marabelle should keep listening to that inner monologue. Marabelle already knew Edna approved of Nick.

And if it didn’t work out…well, she would survive. Maybe a little more banged and beaten-up from the process, but she’d survive nonetheless. She leaned her head back. She wouldn’t think about that right now. She’d think about that tomorrow. She was getting really good at this Scarlett O’Hara thing.

As she fished for her wallet, her fingers brushed her busted up cell phone, and Marabelle cursed under her breath. She had dropped it on Thursday, running for her gate, and it had shattered on the tile floor. Tomorrow she’d head to the store to buy a new phone and retrieve any calls or messages she might’ve missed. After she paid the driver, she faced her front door and noticed a light from her living room peeking through the wood blinds. She didn’t remember leaving one on when she’d left, but she’d been in a huge hurry, so maybe she had. She bumped up the front steps with her carry-on, unlocked the door, pushed it open with her hip, and stopped dead in her tracks.

Nick sat slouched on her sofa, facing the door with a beer bottle dangling from his fingers. He didn’t move to stand. He watched her from under heavy lids, staring as if he’d never seen her before. He looked cold and remote, and Marabelle’s heart skipped several beats…in a bad way. A very bad way.

Something was off.

Right away, Marabelle noticed his disheveled appearance. His wrinkled dress shirt looked slept in and hung out over an old pair of jeans. And his stubble had passed the cool stage, bordering on scary. Three more empty beer bottles sat on her glass-and-rattan coffee table.

Either someone had died, or someone was about to die.

Marabelle had a sinking feeling it was the latter.

She eased the door closed behind her. “Nick? You okay?” she whispered, afraid to speak any louder. His distance and demeanor unnerved her.

He stared stonily at her until panic pricked up her spine. When he spoke, she jumped at his raw voice, as if he’d overused it.

“You moving to Birmingham?”

Oh God. What was going on? What did he know?

Her mouth felt as dry as chalk; she swallowed hard. “Uh, no. How did you get in?” Nick didn’t have a key to her place. Had he resorted to breaking and entering?

“Lilah.” He took a pull on his beer, his hard gaze never leaving her face. She shifted her weight, still standing on the threshold of the room, remembering she gave Lilah Dawkins a key in case of emergencies. This must’ve been an emergency.

“Nick, I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but—”

“I heard plenty from your good friend Beau.”

Dammit. This can’t be happening again. Beau butted in when she specifically warned him not to. Anger and anxiety tightened her chest.

“Are you pregnant?”

“What?”

He rose on what seemed to be rusty knees, like he’d been frozen to that spot for hours. He invaded her space, blasting her with the intense heat radiating off his body. Usually she felt safe and comforted by his presence.

Today she felt cold and afraid.

A dangerous spark lit his expression. A strain showed on his face, as if he hadn’t slept in days. This close, she could feel the rage rolling off his body like a clap of thunder. The air felt thick, crackling all around them.

“Simple question. Are. You. Pregnant?” he said in a voice devoid of any emotion.

Her head jerked up. “No. What gave you that idea?”

“This.” He raised his left hand, shaking the opened pregnancy kit from her bathroom. She hadn’t realized he’d been holding it this entire time. She tried snatching it away, but he yanked it out of reach.

“Where did you get that?” she snapped. “Are you adding pilfering to your breaking-and-entering repertoire?”

“Two tests are missing. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

She sputtered, “Because I am. Why would I lie about that?”

He gave a humorless, hollow bark of a laugh. “Because you’ve lied about everything else. Why should I believe you? Why did you use two tests? I want the truth!” he shouted. “And don’t tell me I can’t handle it!”

“I am telling the truth. I’m not pregnant.” Her hand motioned toward the kit between his fingers. “I used two tests because I wasn’t sure I did it right. End of story. Why are you so upset? I would’ve told you if I were.”

Something flickered behind his cold eyes…a sadness, but it was gone before she could analyze it.

“Yeah, right,” he snorted in derision, “like you told me about Birmingham and taking a job there. When were you gonna let me in on that one? After you’d already moved? Did you plan on sending a postcard?” He mimicked, “‘Dear Nick, I’ve moved. Later, Marabelle. P.S., I’m not pregnant.’” She flinched. “I know damn well you would’ve never called or texted. Just like you didn’t return all the texts and messages I left on your cell.”

“I’m sorry. My phone shattered at the airport. I was without service the whole weekend. I didn’t get any messages.” She kept her voice calm, as if crooning to a wounded wolf about to strike.

He shook his head, disgust on his face. Abruptly he turned and flicked the pregnancy kit on the coffee table. He rubbed the back of his neck as if it ached. Without facing her, he said, “Why’d you do it? Go away without discussing it with me?” He spoke so low, she strained to hear him.

What a colossal mistake this whole exercise had been. All her reasons for leaving before seemed less than noble now. She should’ve listened to Paula and Beau. She should’ve banished her stupid fears. How could she explain to him without sounding selfish?

Marabelle worried the engagement ring on her finger. “I…uh…thought it would be a solution to our…my problem.” She continued to talk to his rigid back. “I mean, the auction is over next weekend. We won’t need to pretend anymore about the fake engagement.” Her voice shook. “I thought if I left, it would be easier for both of us…” As she spoke, she felt her words polluting the air, making it difficult to breathe. Nick slowly turned around. The anguish etched on his face was so raw that Marabelle had to avert her gaze. She’d never meant to hurt anyone. Especially Nick.

“I love you,” he rasped, “and you love me. Why would you do that?”

Loved her?

Hot tears welled behind her eyes as her gaze flew to his face. She couldn’t bear his anger and hurt and accusations. She started to shake, locking her knees for control. “I d-d…didn’t know. You never told me. This was all fake…a game…a…a fling. When did it stop being that?” she choked.

His response was as bleak as the expression on his face, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. But it did. You know it, and I know it. Did I ever once give you the impression it wasn’t real?”

Fire burned her cheeks. He looked away as if he couldn’t stand the sight of her. “I did everything in my power to make you feel desired and…and loved. Instead of believing in what we had—believing in me—you run off and take a job in another state.” His accusation pierced her shattered heart.

She stumbled forward on stiff legs. “Nick, I was scared. I wasn’t thinking. How was I supposed to know? You…we never said anything. Please—”

“I should’ve walked out of your classroom the first day I met you and never looked back. You’ve been nothing but a shitload of trouble from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

His words hit worse than a hard tennis ball to the face. “What?”

“Marabelle…” He reached out his hand.

She stumbled back, twisting the ring on her finger. He’d just confirmed her deepest, darkest fear.

I’m not worth it.

Her face burned with shame, then anger welled up inside her and spewed out of her mouth. “If you recall, none of this was my idea. But thanks for being so accommodating.” She tugged hard, and the engagement ring finally slid off her finger. Surprised, she looked down.

Definitely a sign.

The ring bit into her palm as she squeezed her hand shut. “You were great. I mean in every sense of the word. Particularly in bed. You taught me a lot. Thanks again.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

He moved closer; disappointment and regret filled his face. “Marabelle…I’m sor—”

“No. Don’t say any more. I think we’ve both said enough.” She gulped back a sob. “Here. Take it.” She extended her hand. When he didn’t move, she picked up his right palm and placed the ring in it. “You need to leave.” Her voice quivered.

Motionless, he stared at the ring, which looked very small in his large palm, and then slowly he closed his fingers over it. “Don’t do this.” His voice was hoarse.

“Go!” She pointed a shaky finger at the door. “Please.” Tears streamed down her face. Marabelle didn’t know how much more humiliation she could stand.

Nick hung his head and nodded, moving toward the door. With his hand on the knob, he dropped the ring on the table by the door. “Keep it.” She watched it bounce and ping, stopping just short of the edge. When she looked up, he was gone.