CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT WAS ONE of those days. Not in the good sense.
First, Honor had woken up to the sounds of Tom in the shower. He was whistling slightly, and not very well, and the image of him, warm and wet and soapy, had the eggs tossing aside their dairy-free meals and stampeding for the door.
They were getting married. They were going ahead with it. She’d come home from work yesterday and stopped at city hall for a license, and once that was filed, they had sixty days. That meant that by June 10, she would be someone’s wife.
Tom’s wife.
The thought inspired equal parts of terror and disbelief, with a side of lust and a chaser of panic. They were going through with it. Committing fraud against the government of the United States of America.
And then again, there was that lust.
Last night, she sat at the kitchen table after dinner and filled out the paperwork. Learned a few things about Thomas Jude Barlow. First, he was younger than she was by three years. Just in case the years are precious wasn’t enough. Secondly, he’d been born in the back of a cab.
Thirdly, well...she couldn’t remember what thirdly was, not with Tom in the shower just fourteen or so feet away.
He’d been about to kiss her the other night on the couch. And she stopped it. Why, she had no flippin’ idea. Cowardice, probably. Because if he kissed her, she’d sleep with him, and if she slept with him, she was pretty sure she’d fall in love with him, and she was already a bit swoony, and he wasn’t. Not at all.
Men didn’t feel the same way women did about sex. They’d take it when offered, same as they wouldn’t pass up a cookie warm from the oven. No, it was the women who counted calories and fell in love. Which was really not fair. Okay, Pru didn’t count calories, not the way she and Carl were going through hot fudge these days. And Faith didn’t, either, always looking like a porn star when she ate dessert, which was often.
The water turned off, and Honor resisted the urge to run into the hallway and get a glimpse of Tom in a towel. She got dressed instead, feeling clumsy and irritable with lust. Spent four minutes with Tom before he left for the Barbarian Horde at his college. She felt almost jealous. Maybe she’d take a mechanical engineering class, too.
Her work morning was filled with eight scheduled phone calls, a marketing meeting with Ned, Jack and Jessica to talk about wine club sales and writing an article for a tourism magazine. Then, she somehow acquired Goggy, who showed up at the office after lunch, when Honor was finishing up a conference call with the sales staff. “Who’s this?” she asked, staring suspiciously at Jessica. “Honor, who is this?”
“It’s Jessica, Goggy. Guys, my grandmother just came in,” Honor said.
“Hi, Mrs. Holland!” came a chorus of voices from the phone.
“How do you do that?” Goggy asked, ever amazed that Edison’s little invention had such diversity. “It sounds like there’s a dozen people in there!”
“It’s a conference call,” Honor said.
“Amazing!” The old lady clucked in awe.
“Okay, call me with any questions. Thank you!”
There was a chorus of goodbyes, and Honor hung up. “This is Jessica Dunn, Goggy. You met her before.” Was it her imagination, or was Goggy forgetting more these days?
“Have I?” Goggy pursed her lips. “I don’t remember. You’re very pretty, dear.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Holland. Would you like some coffee?”
“Oh, no, thank you. It goes right through me. I used to be able to drink it all day long, but not anymore.”
“Jess, will you email those talking points to the gang?” Honor asked. Now that she was used to it, it was pretty nice having an assistant.
“You bet. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Holland.”
“I’m sorry if I interrupted, Honor. I didn’t realize you were on the phone,” Goggy whispered. Better late than never.
“I’ve got a bunch of errands to do, Goggy. What can I do for you?”
Goggy sighed. “You young people. Always running around.”
“I have to go to Rushing Creek. Want to come along?” It was all part of the sainthood campaign. Honor was fairly sure she was a shoe-in, but she did love her grandmother.
“Rushing Creek? That place? I’d rather be murdered in my own bed than live there,” Goggy said happily. “But I’ll come, sure! Thank you, sweetheart!”
It took Goggy fifteen minutes at the Old House to find a coat (“in case it rains”), apply more Blushing Peach lipstick (“you never know who you’ll run into”), go to the bathroom (“I’d probably catch a disease at that horrible mental hospital”) and trundle into the car.
Sainthood seemed assured.
“How’s Tom?” Goggy asked on the car ride over.
“He’s great.”
“How did you meet again?”
Honor shot her grandmother a look. No, it seemed Goggy was completely serious. “Um, you fixed us up, remember?”
“I know that, dear,” the old lady said. “I meant where did you meet him. I misspoke. Don’t get that look on your face. I don’t have Alzheimer’s.”
“We met at O’Rourke’s.”
“Right, right. I’m glad for you, honey. It’s nice that one of us found happiness through an arranged marriage.”
“It’s not really an arranged marriage, Goggy,” Honor said, hoping Goggy wouldn’t inadvertently blow it. “You fixed us up. You have good instincts with people.” Flattery would distract her, hopefully.
“That’s true,” Goggy said. “I always thought so, but it’s nice to hear. How does this car work again? There’s no key.”
As they pulled into the Rushing Creek complex, Honor wished for the thousandth time that her grandparents would consider living here. So much safer, cleaner, brighter... “You sure you and Pops want to stay in the Old House forever?” Honor asked.
“It’s our home, honey.”
“I know, but didn’t you ever want to live somewhere else?”
Goggy shrugged. “I’ve thought about it. I’ve never lived anywhere but on the Hill.”
“Neither did I, until a few weeks ago. Don’t you think it’d be fun to live somewhere different?”
“Oh, who knows? Maybe.” Progress! That was a more positive answer than Goggy had ever given before. “What are we doing here, anyway?”
“I have to drop off some tickets for the Black and White Ball. You and Pops are coming, aren’t you?”
“Of course, of course. Except I’ll have to dress up.” Goggy sighed heavily. “And probably dance with that old fool. He has two left feet, that one.”
“I don’t know. You guys looked pretty cute at Faith and Levi’s wedding.”
Goggy gave a little smile. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
Honor took out her phone and sent a quick text to Margaret, the director of Rushing Creek. Any chance we could see a unit? I’m doing a soft sell on my grandmother.
Margaret came through.
“Plenty of closet space,” she said, showing Goggy the master bedroom of a very pretty apartment, “and a spare room for visitors.”
“No one visits me anymore,” Goggy said with a significant look at Honor.
“Don’t look at me. Look, Goggy, this kitchen has so much counter space! Much more than the Old House.”
“Hmmph. What do I need with counter space?”
“Imagine baking Christmas cookies in here,” Honor said. “So much easier than doing it all on the kitchen table.”
“Have you ever had a bad cookie in my house?” Goggy asked.
Honor put her arm around her. “Never. You make the best everything, and don’t tell Mrs. Johnson I said that, or she’ll kill me. I’m just saying it’d be nice for you to have a place like this, new and clean and efficient. You deserve it.”
“Well,” Goggy said, mollified. “That’s a nice thought, sweetheart.”
Progress indeed.
After Rushing Creek, they drove into town to talk to Laura Boothby about the flowers for the ball. “I was thinking ivory centerpieces with black velvet ribbons tied around the vases,” she said, turning the pages of Laura’s photo album.
“Beautiful,” Laura said. “Great idea.”
“But it’s the Black and White Ball,” Goggy protested. “Not the Black and Ivory Ball.”
“Right, but this will just be a little contrast. Remember when Lyons Den hosted two years ago? And they had pink flowers?”
“I thought that was tacky,” Goggy said.
“Oh, no, it was wonderful,” Laura said. “Jeremy has the best taste. And he’s such a good doctor!”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Goggy said. “He’s practically my grandson. And those hands? So gentle.”
Which reminded Honor...she and Tom would need a blood test. Not that one was required, but she wanted one, anyway. Just to make sure there were no red flags for baby-making.
“Honor, while you’re here, would you like to look at wedding bouquets?” Laura asked craftily.
“Um, no, that’s okay. Not yet, anyway.”
“Oh, come on. Just a little peek.”
And somehow, an hour passed. First, visions of a wedding dress. Now, poring over pictures of roses and lilies and hydrangeas. Like a regular bride...which, of course, she wasn’t.
But she was falling for him. She knew that. How could she not? First, the smile. The accent. The tattoos, which she’d never really liked before and now heartily adored.
And then there was his unflagging love of Charlie, who didn’t give Tom so much as a crumb of affection, and for whom Tom was rewriting his life.
And then there was the kissing. That one night of moon-and-back sex, when Honor had acted like a stranger and felt right at home. One amazing night that seemed to be playing in a constant loop in her head, making her break off in midsentence weeks after the fact.
Hot diggety.
It was probably being around all this love... Dad and Mrs. Johnson snuggled up on the couch, arguing amiably about who should win Top Chef. Faith and Levi, who seemed like two magnets when they were in the same room, always near each other, always touching somehow. Even Pru and Carl, with their goofy grins and rock-solid knowledge that the other was simply there, still dependably in love.
She and Tom were a business arrangement. They were both getting something out of this. He would have his green card, and she was saving face.
Yes. People were now looking at Honor with new respect these days. Tom Barlow, the hottie Brit with the killer smile, had chosen quiet, reliable, boring Honor Holland.
What Honor knew, and shouldn’t forget, was that Tom Barlow was only with her because of his unofficial stepson.
Otherwise, there was no way she’d get a guy like that.
“Honor?”
She looked up abruptly. “Sorry, Goggy. What were you saying?”
“I think these are nice. I’ve always loved carnations.”
“Very pretty. I’ll think about it. Thanks, ladies. Goggy, we should go. I have to hit up some businesses for raffle donations.”
They went to O’Rourke’s, where Colleen once again complimented her on “shagging and bagging Tom”; to Lorelei’s Sunrise Bakery, where the eternally cheerful baker offered to make their wedding cake for free in thanks for all the business Blue Heron had given them; to Mel’s Candy Shoppe, where Mr. Stoakes told her she could eat as much candy as she wanted, now that she was off the market. To Hart’s Jewelers, where Tom had apparently bought her ring, as she was welcomed in and fussed over like a soldier returning from war.
“You really like it, then?” Mrs. Hart asked.
“I love it,” Honor said honestly. Every time she looked at the ring (which was often), she seemed to notice something new.
“He’s adorable. Well done, dear,” Mrs. Hart said, beaming.
“I fixed them up,” Goggy announced. “I knew it was Meant to Be. They’re perfect for each other. A perfect match. A grandmother knows about these things. We have a certain sense about us—”
“Okay, Goggy, we should go,” Honor said. “Thanks for the donation, Mrs. Hart.”
“See you soon!” the jeweler said. “For your wedding bands!”
“Right! Yes. Thanks again.”
“I’m hungry,” Goggy said. “Let’s eat. Is it too early for dinner?” She glanced at the man’s watch she wore. “Nope. Four-thirty. That works for me.”
“One more stop, okay? The gym said they’d offer a six-month membership.”
“Why do people go to gyms?” Goggy asked.
“I have no idea,” Honor answered. “But people do.”
And Tom’s car was in the parking lot. Today was the self-defense class. Coincidence? Probably not.
They went into Cabrera’s Gym, Goggy clutching her purse in both hands like she was about to encounter a gang of thugs in desperate need of coupons. It was dark (the less you saw, Honor supposed, the less grossed out you’d be). Music boomed over the loudspeakers. “Can I help you?” said a young man behind the desk.
“Is Carlos here?” Honor said.
“He’s over there with the kids.” The man pointed, and Honor peered ahead.
There they were—Charlie, Helena, Abby and quite a few other kids. The class seemed to have mushroomed.
Tom was there, as well. He wore black boxing shorts and a faded blue T-shirt that said Gulfstream. The bottom of the Union Jack was just visible, and his hair was sweaty. She could see the chain of his Saint Christopher’s medal where it disappeared into his shirt, and the memory of that medal, hot against her own chest, made Down Under clench in a strong, hot surge.
She swallowed.
“Hallo, darling! And hallo, Honor.” He came over to Goggy, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Kids, for those of you who don’t know, this is Honor Holland, my fiancée, and her lovely grandmother, Mrs. Holland.”
“Call me Elizabeth,” Goggy murmured, batting her sparse eyelashes.
“Hi, Auntie,” Abby said.
“Hi, Honor,” Charlie echoed.
Well, well. Charlie spoke to her. Voluntarily and everything.
“Honor, I didn’t know you were engaged to Tom here! Congratulations!” Carlos said.
“Mmm-hmm,” Honor said faintly, dragging her eyes off Tom’s mouth.
“You want a gift certificate for the thing? The ball, right? I’ll go take care of that. Back in a flash.” Carlos smiled and trotted off to his office.
“Darling, will you help me here?” Tom asked, putting his arm around her shoulders. The smell of soap and sweat made her knees nearly buckle. Would it be wrong to lick his neck in front of the kids? Yes. Probably. Maybe not.
“Right, kids, so here’s my lovely Honor, and as I was saying, boxing’s a sport for everyone, isn’t it, love?”
“It so is,” she said.
“Honor herself adores it, though you can’t tell from the look of her. But we’ve seen Rocky at least twenty times, isn’t that right, love?” He grinned at her, and her knees did buckle then, but she managed to stay upright.
“Oh, yes. At least. And Cinderella Man.”
“Right.” He gave her a squeeze. “Don’t forget Warrior.”
“And Raging Bull.”
He leaned in close, his mouth almost touching her ear. “You have no idea how randy you’re making me by knowing all these films,” he whispered, and her breath was suddenly ragged. He turned back to the kids. “And Honor here weighs about how much, love?”
“Nice try,” she said.
“Less than I do, at any rate. But if she knew where to hit—”
“The groin,” she said. “Go right for the nuts, girls. Sorry, boys, but it’s true.” Goggy nodded in agreement.
Tom turned and looked at her. “Darling! I didn’t know you had a violent streak. Yes, the groin is an excellent target. But say you can’t do that. You still have a lot of options. If Honor knew where and how to hit, she could level me. Couldn’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yes. I could.” Gray eyes. So...unfair, somehow, the gentle color of a rainy sky on a winter morning, and wasn’t someone feeling romantic? That mouth of his. She could do a lot with that mouth. Or rather, he could.
What are we waiting for? the eggs asked.
How about “not an audience of children”? Honor mentally answered.
Don’t get testy with us, the eggs said. We’re just trying to get a little action here.
“Into the ring with you, then,” Tom said.
What? Her stomach lurched. “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not dressed for it.” Indeed. A pencil skirt and blouse, the sturdy-heeled pumps that Faith had deemed “not too nunnish” on their last lunch date.
“She’s not, is she?” Tom left her side, unbalancing her a bit, as she seemed to have leaned up against him. It was cold without him there. He bounded up the two stairs to the ring. “But that’s the point. You have to know you could defend yourself whenever you needed to, no matter what you were wearing. Come on, Honor, let’s show the kiddies how it’s done.”
Honor glanced at the teenagers, who waited expectantly. “Go for it,” Abby said.
“Yes, honey, do it,” Goggy said. “I want to see this.”
Hesitantly, she climbed the steps. “How do I get in here?” she murmured to Tom, who held the ropes for her. It looked very complicated.
“Just scoot in.”
“Right.” She started with one foot, then the other, holding her skirt down. Tripped (of course), only to have Tom grab her arm.
“There you are.” A slight smile flashed across his face.
“Hey, Honor! Look at you!”
Oh, fungus. A damning flush started prickling across her chest. “Hi, Brogan.”
Her former...person...walked over, gym bag slung over his shoulder, the easy grace of a natural athlete evident. “And Tom, isn’t it?” Brogan asked. “The lucky guy! We’ve met before. At Hugo’s?”
“Of course,” Tom said, reaching over the ropes to shake his hand. “Nice to see you again. Honor and I are just demonstrating a move for the kids.”
“Fantastic. I’m just in time.” Brogan set his bag down and folded his arms, winking at her.
After the little showdown in the cask room with Dana, Brogan had sent Honor an email, full of hearty congratulations and a few possible dates for dinner. Unsurprisingly, Honor hadn’t had any free time. Not that she’d looked. But now, seeing Brogan’s smiling face, she couldn’t help missing him. As a friend.
Yes. For the first time, his presence didn’t make her quiver. She smiled back at him, relieved.
“You ready, darling?” Tom asked.
She jerked her eyes to his face. His face was grim. “Ready for what?”
“To demonstrate a punch.”
“Not really,” she said. “Can someone else do this?”
“You’ll be brilliant. Kiddies, an uppercut starts here,” he said, holding his hands next to his temple. “You don’t scoop up so much as bend your knees and turn, like so—” he swiveled, bringing his shoulder down “—and hit with your whole body.” He demonstrated, touching her chin with his fist, his eyes on the assembled kids. “Bend your knees, turn so that it’s not just your arm doing the work, it’s the entire body, and extend that fist with the whole of you right behind it.” He went through the move again, slow motion. “Your turn, Honor.”
What looked like a fluid, easy motion was a lot harder when Honor tried it. It was hard not to feel self-conscious and awkward while everyone, including two-thirds of all the men she’d slept with, were watching. If there was anything less sexy than trying to channel Muhammad Ali while wearing a skirt and not-too-nunnish shoes, she didn’t know what it was.
“That’s it,” Tom said. “Practice a bit, Honor. Kids, you, as well.” He left her in the corner, bobbing like an idiot, and walked over to the other side of the ring to watch the kids’ form. “Hands up, don’t forget, you don’t want to leave yourself open. Mrs. Holland—Elizabeth, rather—don’t just stand there! Get moving, darling.” Goggy giggled and cooed and put her hands up and began punching the air quite vigorously. Good Lord.
“This punch is brilliant if you’re in close quarters,” Tom continued, “because it’s tight and brutal.” He demonstrated the move again. “So if someone’s got you against a wall or whatnot, this is your punch, and it’s a knockout if you do it right. That’s it, Molly, you’ve got it. Good job, Charlie. A little more pivot, Abby. Brilliant.”
He had a way with kids, that was certain. And they seemed to like him, too. Even Charlie looked a little more cheerful than usual, which wasn’t saying a lot, but still. The boy was supposed to come for dinner tonight. Hopefully, he’d speak.
“Looking good, On,” Brogan said, grinning up at her. She rolled her eyes. “No, really. You remind me of Iron Mike.”
“Thank you. He and I are very close.”
“He’s a good guy. I photographed him a few years ago out in Vegas.” He paused. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Busy. You know. Just...wedding stuff.”
“I know. Dana’s gone crazy with it. And, uh, we’re kind of in a rush now.” His expression was sheepish. “Want to get it done before the baby.”
“Right.” Tom was showing Helena how to turn her arm, and Helena was eating it up.
“Anyway. It’s good to see you.”
“You, too. Um, do you box?” she asked, rather than have to stand here alone, punching air.
“A little. Here and there. You know me.”
Yes. He loved all things athletic, from rock climbing to rowing to football to sailing. Rather tiring to a person whose idea of outdoor activity was taking her book outside to read.
“All right, Honor?” Tom said, walking to her corner.
“For what?” she asked.
“To hit me, darling.” The kids laughed. Brogan, too.
“Oh, uh, no. No, thanks. I don’t want to hit you.”
He towed back to the center of the ring. “Sorry,” he said in a low voice. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your chat with Brandon.”
“Brogan.”
“Right.” His eyes were flat and neutral.
“We weren’t chatting,” she said. “We were just... It was nothing.”
“Of course it was nothing. Since you’re so in love with me and all.” He turned to the kids. “Pay attention, kids. Honor, hands up.”
“I’m not going to hit you.” Just the idea made her feel a little sick. “No, thanks.”
“Sure you are. I can take it.”
“No, really. I’m not comfortable doing this.”
“Exactly! Kids, did you hear that? She’s not comfortable fighting. And she does have a point. Most girls don’t grow up scrabbling in the schoolyard, do they? Maybe they’ve been conditioned not to hurt anyone, and yeah, it can go against the grain, which is all the more reason to learn this.”
Honor didn’t feel so good. Tom was right; her mother used to have a fit if they so much as wrestled. The one time fighting might’ve come in handy—aside from the catfight, of course—she’d been frozen in shock.
Crap. Not the time to remember that. Her heart seemed to thud in fits and starts, and there was a roaring in her ears.
“Come on now,” Tom said. “It’s a good lesson for them.” He raised the eyebrow with the scar running through it. “And you can look adorable in front of your boyfriend.”
“He’s not—”
“Ready, then?” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned toward the kids. “So say I’ve grabbed the incredibly beautiful Honor here.” He wrapped her in an abrupt hug, pinning her arms at her sides, and adrenaline spurted into her limbs. Her breath left in a gasp. Was it hot in here? “And then I shove her against a wall. No way out.” He pushed her gently against the corner post and leaned in. “Give me your money, or are you alone, sweetheart—you all get the idea, right?”
Why was she so nervous? Her legs were shaking, and gray spots were floating in front of her.
“She can’t get away, she’s totally helpless, she’s just a soft little female, or so I think. Okay, love, on the count of three, a right uppercut, bend your knees, turn that gorgeous—”
Her left fist appeared out of nowhere, slamming into his eye. Tom staggered back, one hand covering his eye. The kids gasped, hands flying over their mouths. Honor’s hand—her nonviolent hand—was over her mouth as well.
“Oh, my God, she hit him!” said one girl. “That’s so mean!”
“Are you all right?” he asked her. She tried to answer and couldn’t find her voice, nodded instead.
He was bleeding. Blood was pouring down his face. It seemed her engagement ring had cut him under the eye. Goggy clucked in concern and handed Tom a tissue, which instantly bloomed with red.
“I guess I was wrong about the soft helpless bit, yeah?” His voice was tight.
Her knuckles started to throb. Carlos Mendez was suddenly in the ring with a towel, and blood was dripping onto the mat. Brogan, too, came through the ropes. “You okay?” he asked, putting a warm hand on her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to Tom, her voice thin and shaky.
“I’m fine, gang,” he said to the kids. “Honor here proved a good point. You’re all quite strong enough if the situation demands it, yeah? Her engagement ring caught me. Nothing to worry about. Shows the importance of blocking, doesn’t it.”
“You’re gonna need stiches, bro,” Carlos said.
Tom glanced at her, his eye already beginning to swell. “Feel like a run to hospital?” he asked. “Kids, class is over for today. Good job all around. Abby, would you mind driving Charlie home?”
* * *
“LOOK, I TOLD you I didn’t want to do it,” Honor snapped.
“And clearly you were sincere,” Tom snapped back, lifting the gauze the nurse had given him when they came in. “Quite the hotshot, aren’t you?”
“Yes! I am! The thing is, you were right,” she said, looking away. “Most women don’t fight for fun. I didn’t want to do it, I was nervous. I told you not to make me do it, but you wouldn’t listen.”
“Blame the victim, that’s it. Does ‘on the count of three’ mean nothing to you, darling, or was there another reason for that punch?”
“I was nervous! I’m sorry, okay? I’m really, really sorry.”
He gave her a one-eyed glare, the flesh around his eye puffy and red. “You’re welcome to make it up to me, darling. I can think of about ten things you can do for starters.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” she said, even as a hot, tight nervousness grabbed her insides.
“Hello, hello!” The door to the exam room opened, and a tiny Asian girl came in, roughly five foot nothing, ninety pounds and perhaps twelve years old. Honor instantly felt like an Amazon. Not in the good way. “I’m Dr. Chu, and what have we here?”
“A bit of a cut,” Tom said. “My girlfriend has a mean streak.”
“There was a slight accident,” Honor ground out.
“Dude, that’s awful!” the doctor said. “Bummer.”
“How old are you?” Honor asked.
“Um, twenty-three?” she answered. “I started college when I was, like, sixteen. A complete trip. But I’m totally a real doctor. Well, sort of. I’m an intern? And I’ve never done stitches before, so I’m totally psyched.”
“Great,” said Tom. “I have absolute faith in you.”
“Cool!” she said, turning on the water. “Washing hands, check. Pleasant demeanor, supercheck. So what happened, Mr., um, Barlow?”
“My fiancée punched me,” he said.
“OMG! That’s horrible!” She turned to Honor. “Are you his mother?”
“No!” Kill us now, said the eggs. “I’m the fiancée.”
Tom grinned. If she’d felt sorry about hitting him, it was fading. Fast.
“Really? Mr. Barlow, do you mind if she stays?”
Tom pondered the question. Honor sighed. “You’ll protect me, won’t you?” he asked, smiling at the tiny doctor.
“Totally! Yeah! Plus, I can always call Security?”
“Then I feel safe.” He cocked his good eyebrow at Honor as Dr. Chu pulled on exam gloves. “So sixteen when you started college, eh? I bet you’re really smart.”
“Not to toot my own horn? But I did graduate first in my class at Stanford.”
“Congratulations,” he said. “That’s incredible.”
“Thanks! So let me get to work here. Um, she punched you? Is that all? Like, how did you get this cut?”
“From her engagement ring.”
“Wow. So ironic,” Dr. Chu said.
“You’re telling me.”
The two shared an adorable smile.
“He was teaching a boxing class and asked me to hit him,” Honor said. Dr. Chu didn’t so much as flicker a glance in her direction, too busy lifting the gauze off Tom’s eye.
“Awesome! That’s some cut! Plus I think you’re gonna have a black eye! Kind of sexy, hopefully?”
“Whatever you say, Doctor.” His crooked tooth flashed, making him look like an incredibly appealing, adult version of the Artful Dodger from Oliver Twist.
“Awesome! So, like, let me get stitching, okay?”
It was clearly the best day of Dr. Chu’s brief life. “Suture kit, check. Sterilizing the field, check! This is fun.”
“I love a woman who loves her job,” Tom said.
“I totally love it! And what do you do, Mr. Barlow?”
“I’m a professor of mechanical engineering.”
“That rocks! Okay, this is gonna sting. So sorry about that. Sympathetic attitude, check.”
“Very sympathetic indeed.”
“Supercheck, then!” Dr. Chu giggled, then raised a needle of painkiller to inject under the cut.
Guilt wasn’t an emotion Honor was used to.
Honor looked at her hand. It was slightly swollen, which she supposed she deserved. It was also the first time she’d ever hit someone in her entire life.
Well, no. She’d smacked Dana, hadn’t she? She was building quite the reputation.
“Do you have a regular doctor?” Dr. Chu asked. “He or she can take out your stitches in about a week. Or I can totally do it! You just have to come back here. I can give you my number if you want to see when I’m on duty.”
Tom glanced at Honor. “You can go to Jeremy,” she said. “He’s a family friend.”
“I’ll do that, then,” Tom said.
“Sure! Just look at these gorgeous sutures, right? Listen, it was so nice meeting you!” Dr. Chu said. “I’m just gonna ask my attending one thing, okay? I doubt we need X-rays, but I want to be supersure.”
“Thank you,” Tom said.
“You’re totally welcome! Back in a flash!” She practically skipped out.
Honor forced herself to look at her fiancé. “Not bad,” she said. Dr. Chu’s stitches were small and neat, for all that she talked like a love-struck tween.
“Good. Such a pretty face, I’d hate for it to be ruined.”
“I’m really sorry. As I believe I’ve said fifteen or twenty times.”
“Don’t worry about it. Sorry I put you in that situation.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the floor.
Out in the hall, they could hear the noise of the hospital, the clatter of gurneys and the hiss of the automatic doors. A baby was crying.
“Why were you so scared?” Tom asked unexpectedly.
She shrugged, her heart rate surging once more. “I don’t know.” She started to speak, then stopped. “I was mugged once. He, um, shoved me in a doorway. Just like your little scenario.”
His eyebrows jolted upward. “Are you bloody joking?” he said. “That would’ve been really good to know.”
“You didn’t ask. And I didn’t think to mention it.”
“Why the hell not? I wouldn’t have pretended to be assaulting you if I’d known that, Honor! Why didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t know! Don’t yell at me. It was a long time ago, in Philly when I was in grad school. He grabbed me, asked for my purse, I gave it to him, he left. He had a gun, so I just did what he said. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“You were held up at gunpoint, but it wasn’t a big deal?”
“You can stop yelling anytime, you know. I thought you Brits were all about keep calm and carry on. And don’t tell anyone I was mugged,” she added in a softer voice. “No one else knows.”
He was staring at her, mouth slightly open. “Yes, God forbid you should let anyone know you’re human.”
“And what does that mean?” she snapped. “Are you an expert on me all of a sudden?”
There was a knock on the exam room door, and in came Levi, dressed in his police uniform. He jerked to a stop at the sight of them. “Oh. Hey, you two.”
“Hi, Levi,” Honor said, glad for a friendly face. “What are you doing here?”
He drew in a breath. “Uh, I have to ask Tom some questions.”
“What for?” Tom asked.
“The doctor suspects domestic abuse,” Levi answered. “And I did just hear yelling.”
First a catfight, now this. “Do your thing,” she said wearily.
“Mate, it was nothing,” Tom said. “She was helping out at the self-defense class and caught me off guard.”
“So really, this is kind of your fault,” Honor said. “Since the class was your brainchild.”
“I’d have to agree,” Tom said. “It’s certainly not Honor’s.”
Levi did not look amused. “Let me talk to Tom for a second. I have to follow procedure, even if you’re Faith’s sister. Especially because you’re Faith’s sister.”
“You bet.” She slipped out and stood in the hallway. So now her brother-in-law/supercop was investigating her. She sighed, then force-smiled at an old man with an oxygen mask over his face. He didn’t smile back. Poor guy. Honor looked away.
Hospitals had always creeped her out, ever since Mom had died. That had been the worst day, of course. The worst day in her life. She’d been the one to answer the phone; Dad was in the fields, and she was waiting for Mom and Faith to return from Corning. They’d been late, and Honor was jealous, imagining them out to lunch somewhere, or bopping into the cute little shops on Market Street.
“Is your father there, sweetheart?” Chief Griggs had asked, and Honor knew in that second that something horrible had happened. “I need to talk to him.”
“Why?” Honor asked.
“I just do, honey.”
A white, icy fear flashed over her. Her knees buckled, then straightened. “Are they dead?” she whispered.
“Sit tight, okay? Is your dad home?”
“Yes.”
“I’m on my way,” the chief had said, and the terrible kindness in his voice had confirmed it. Death stood in the kitchen with her as she put the phone down on the counter next to her chemistry textbook. It followed her to the back door, out into the yard, and yet she was calm as she called to her father.
Faith and Mom, gone. Dead. So this is what people meant when they said they felt numb.
Dad was going to need her. As Chief Griggs pulled into the driveway, she wrapped her arms around her father’s waist. Heard the words—Faith was okay, but Constance didn’t make it.
Honor felt her dad sag, heard the horrible small sound that he made as the chief said the words. Held his brittle, dry hand all the way to the hospital where one ambulance had taken Faith, and one had taken Mom.
That ambulance would’ve gone more slowly, Honor thought, standing outside Faith’s room as Daddy went in. No lights, no sirens. Somewhere below her, her mother’s body was being slipped into a dark, cold cupboard.
Mommy.
The horrible magnitude of the loss threatened to swallow her whole and suck her down. The only one who really got her, who had made her feel so special, was gone. It was over. Life would never be the same, never as good, as whole, as happy.
The black grief had to be held off, though. Honor was her mother’s daughter: calm, logical, pragmatic. No one else in the family was like them. She would keep her shit together, she would duct-tape her heart so it wouldn’t shatter and she’d do what had to be done.
But those happy, perfect days of wholeness...they were done.
Only with Brogan—and only once in a great while, admittedly—did she ever get a little glimpse of that again. Not that she’d been miserable. Just that life hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. She’d been waiting since she was sixteen years old to have that piece of her returned, and every once in a while, when she and Brogan were out to dinner together or when he forgot what time zone he was in and called her in the middle of the night had she ever glimpsed a sliver of what she’d been missing.
Which did make her wonder what she was doing with Tom. He was still mostly a stranger...a stranger who flirted with anything that sported breasts and a pulse. Who was occasionally so wonderful that she’d start to hope for that missing piece, only to have him withdraw seconds later.
The door opened, and the man in question appeared, Levi close behind him. “I’ve decided not to press charges,” Tom said. “So long as you’re on your best behavior from now on.”
“Very funny,” she said.
“You guys need anything?” Levi asked.
“We’re all set,” she said. “Thanks, Levi. Sorry you had to come out here.”
“All in a day’s work,” he said. “See you soon.” He started to walk away, then turned and looked at them, a frown creasing his forehead. “Are you guys sure you’re okay?”
“We’re fine, mate,” Tom said, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “Right, darling?”
“Yes! Yeah, absolutely. It’s just been a long day.”
Levi looked at them another minute, and Honor’s stomach cramped. She tipped her head against Tom’s shoulder and smiled. “Thanks again. Tell Faith I’ll call her later.”
He nodded, then lifted a hand and walked away.
Tom took a breath, then released. “All right, then,” he murmured, and with that, he went back in the exam room to wait for his release.