Marriage of Inconvenience

Their argument played back in her mind, over and over. Every ugly word they’d said, the accusations, the hurt, echoed in her mind, taunting her again and again.



His reaction the night before made perfect sense in the bright light of morning. It must’ve been more than his pride could take to find her with Floyd. Something inside Rich had cracked.



Her evening with Floyd, no matter how innocent, must’ve been like a slap in Rich’s face. He’d reacted in anger and pain, not because he cared. The reason for his outburst was directly related to his male ego. What had started out as an argument had eventually progressed to a physical exchange.



Rich had kissed her. First in anger. Then in need. A need fed by frustration and jealousy. He might not want a real marriage, but his pride demanded at least the pretense.



The image of her husband standing in her kitchen was unforgettable. He’d been furious with her. Although she’d had her back to him at the time, she knew she’d outraged him when she’d said that their marriage was the biggest mistake of her life.



A terrible tension had followed, so impenetrable that Jamie doubted she could’ve said or done anything to relieve it. Sitting up in bed, she pushed her tangled hair away from her face.



Rich hadn’t kissed her for any of the right reasons. He’d done it because he hadn’t believed her. He assumed Floyd had kissed her, and he couldn’t tolerate another woman cheating on him—even if it was only in his imagination.



During all the years of their friendship, Jamie had seen Rich as distinct from the other men she’d known. That had been the first of several mistakes. Rich was exactly like them, competitive and territorial.



A few weeks earlier, he’d attempted to set her up with his engineering friend, Bill whatever-his-name-was. Now Rich couldn’t stand her speaking to another man, even someone as blameless as Floyd Bacon. Good grief, Floyd was married! Did Rich honestly think she’d stoop to that level? Apparently he did, which didn’t say much for his opinion of her.



She’d never seen Rich act more irrational. He’d refused to listen to her explanation, had been rude and arrogant in the extreme. And for what reason? None! At least none she could understand.



What he’d said about their being married was true enough—on paper. But their relationship wasn’t any different now than it had been before the ceremony.



Except that it was. Everything she’d feared was coming to pass.



They’d been married a month, and look what had happened. It wouldn’t depress her quite as much if Rich hadn’t left her to face the morning alone. The questions tormented her, eroding her pride and self-confidence.



If only he’d said something afterward.



If only she’d said something.



It had all been so beautiful. Their lovemaking had captured her heart, her soul.



Jamie had longed to tell him everything she was feeling, but she’d been afraid. Afraid he hadn’t experienced the same wonder. Afraid he’d be embarrassed. Afraid he had regrets. She couldn’t have borne knowing that, not when everything had been so perfect for her.



Evidently he’d had second thoughts, otherwise he wouldn’t have abandoned her, slipping away like a thief in the night.



Reluctantly, Jamie climbed out of bed and into the shower. The pulsating spray struck her skin like dull needles. The need to release her anguish in the form of tears left her throat aching and raw, but she refused to cry. She didn’t have the time. It was her turn to work the Saturday morning shift at the bank. She was already behind schedule.



Wrapping a towel around herself, she went back into her bedroom—and came to a sudden stop. She covered her cheeks with her hands, mortified to find her carelessly discarded clothes from one end of the room to the other. The memory of how eager they’d been for each other added to her shame and humiliation.



Jamie dressed quickly, then hung last night’s clothes in the farthest reaches of her closet and hurried out the door, not bothering with more than a cup of instant coffee.



* * *



Rich tried phoning Jamie at quarter to ten. Surely she’d be up and about by then. The phone rang three times before he was invited to “leave a message.” He hung up. Later, he promised himself. He’d try later.



It was noon before he had a chance to call again. When she still didn’t answer, he became irritated and set the receiver down harder than he’d intended.



“Problems?” Bill Hastings asked, walking into Rich’s office.



“Not really.” He did his best to appear nonchalant.



“Don’t try to kid me,” Bill said, sitting on the corner of Rich’s desk, his left foot dangling. “I know the look when I see it—I’ve worn it often enough myself. You’ve got woman problems.”



It wouldn’t do any good to deny it, so he said nothing.



“Pamela?”



“Not this time.”



Bill’s eyebrows shot upward. “Someone else? You’ve been lying low lately. I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”



“I’m not…exactly.” It was a half-truth, which also made it a half lie. He wasn’t seeing anyone. He was a married man, only Bill didn’t know that and Rich wasn’t in any mood to announce it now. Not when he didn’t know what was going on between him and Jamie.



Last night had been good for them. Every time he remembered their lovemaking, his head spun and he felt warm inside. It wasn’t a sensation he was familiar with, since he’d never experienced anything like it in other relationships.



He’d thought, at least he’d hoped, that Jamie had shared in the magic they’d created, but apparently that wasn’t the case.



At two, Rich decided to try Jamie one last time. He might be reading more into her not answering the phone than she intended. Maybe she simply wasn’t there to answer it. After all, Saturdays were often busy with errands.



He’d phone again and if there still wasn’t any answer, the hell with it. A man had his pride.



He’d wait until she called him.



* * *



The phone was ringing when Jamie, struggling with a bag of groceries, tried to remove the key from her purse and unlock her front door. Once she’d thrown open the door she raced across the room, praying with everything in her that it was Rich.



“Hello,” she cried breathlessly after making a leap for the phone. Whoever it was had apparently just hung up, and a buzz droned in her ear.



She knew the caller couldn’t have been Rich. He’d left six messages the night before. He wouldn’t be shy about leaving another.



On the off chance he had, she listened impatiently through all the messages she hadn’t yet erased.



Nothing new from Rich. Nothing.



The emptiness around her seemed to swell. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest as she walked across her living room and closed the door. She’d dropped her bag of groceries on the sofa as she dashed for the phone. The apples had tumbled out, along with a box of cold cereal and a bottle of imported wine.



Like a romantic fool, she’d gone and purchased an expensive bottle of wine. Her morning had been hectic—Saturdays at the bank generally were. But no matter how many customers she served, or how many loan applications she reviewed, Jamie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Rich.



She’d been wrong—he wasn’t like other men she’d known. She’d loved him too long to condemn him on such flimsy evidence. There were any number of reasons he might’ve had to leave. She was a sound sleeper, and for all she knew, he could’ve tried to wake her. By the time she’d left the bank at a little after one, Jamie was confident she’d hear from Rich. Confident enough to rush out and buy a bottle of wine and a small sirloin tip roast just so she could invite him over to dinner—so they could talk.



There was a lot to say.



* * *



Rich stared at the phone accusingly, willing it to ring. He’d arrived home late Saturday afternoon. He was in such a rush to listen to his messages that he didn’t even stop to check his mail. He bounded up the stairs to his apartment, taking two and three steps at a time, sure there’d be some word from Jamie.



The blinking red message light made him feel almost cocky with relief. Until he discovered it was Jason who’d phoned. Jason, not Jamie. His brother, not his wife.



So this was what it meant to be married, to wear his heart on his sleeve and mope around like a besotted fool. So this was how it felt to truly love another person. To care so much that his whole life hinged on a single phone call.



Rich was through with waiting. He’d already ruined one night pacing the floors like a madman, yearning to hear from Jamie. He’d be damned before he’d do it again anytime soon.



Furthermore, he mused darkly, he was through with allowing a woman to rule his heart. Apparently he hadn’t learned his lesson, after all.



Pamela had strung him along for weeks. He’d been duped by one woman and he wasn’t going through that again.



If Jamie was foolish enough to throw away the best thing that had ever happened to either of them, then so be it. The choice rested entirely with her and he wasn’t going to say a word to persuade her. Not a single word.



Clearly she felt none of the beauty of their night together. None of the wonder and the magic. It stung his pride that he could have misread her so completely.



Rather than dwell on his marriage, Rich reached for the phone and viciously punched out his older brother’s number. Jason answered on the second ring, and they made plans for the evening. Nothing fancy. Paul, their oldest brother, had invited them over for a round-robin of pinochle. A card game sounded a lot more inviting than sitting home all night waiting for a silent phone to ring.



* * *



Call him. Jamie had never spent a more restless Saturday afternoon and evening in her life. Pride, she soon discovered, made poor company.



For all she knew, he could be just as eagerly waiting for her to call him. But that didn’t make sense, especially since he’d been the one to slip away in the early morning hours. Even so, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. More than willing.



Although her stomach was in knots, she’d gone about cooking an elaborate dinner, just in case Rich did phone. The roast and small red potatoes gave her a perfect excuse to invite him over. Now the meal sat on her stove untouched. Unappreciated. Forsaken. Just like her.



When she could bear the silence no longer, Jamie walked over to the phone. Her hand was trembling and she paused to clear her throat twice while she was dialing. She forced herself to smile, determined to sound as cheerful as a robin in springtime when Rich answered the phone.



Only he didn’t.



After four rings, his machine came on.



Jamie was so stunned, she listened for a couple of seconds, then reluctantly hung up. For several moments, her hand remained on the receiver as the futility and the discouragement overwhelmed her.



She was being silly. Naive. But it had never occurred to her, not once, that Rich wouldn’t be home.



Apparently he’d gone out for the evening. No doubt he was having fun, laughing it up with his friends, enjoying himself while she sat home alone.



There were places she could go, people to see, fun she could have, too. She contacted three friends and suggested a movie. It was a sad statement on her life that the most exciting entertainment she could think of was a movie.