Seven
It should have been a simple thing, getting married. Theirs was to be a marriage based strictly on a business arrangement, a perfunctory step to legitimize Owen. When the words had shot out of his mouth at the hospital the other day, the idea made perfect sense. They could rusticate in North Carolina and no one in town would dare question Owen’s legitimacy. Problem solved. All that was needed was a license and the brief utterance of a few select pro forma words to make the whole thing legal. No flowers, no music, no cake, no wedding and all the inane crap that went with one. Easy.
Instead, the process took two full days to pull off. Two days in which everyone had equal opportunity to throw their two cents at Will. Starting with his mother.
“Are you sure about this, Will?”
The question, posed in his mother’s soft, unassuming Southern drawl, had begun to burn a hole in the side of his head, he’d heard it so many times in the past forty-eight hours. Teammates, his coach, Hank, Roscoe, and now his mother were all questioning his sanity with the same five-word refrain.
Was he sure about marrying Julianne Marchione? Hell no! But since she was his son’s mother, it was a necessary step.
“I’d think this would make you happy, Mom. Finally, there will be a marriage in the Connelly family.”
He hadn’t meant for his words to wound, but his mother’s mouth tightened ever so slightly as she clasped and unclasped her fingers in her lap. With a sigh, Will sank down on the leather sofa beside her, taking one of her hands in his. They were holed up in the study of Hank Osbourne’s house. Maryland’s marriage license requirements were the least restrictive in the D.C. area, so the ceremony would take place in front of a judge who happened to be one of Hank’s golfing buddies. Best of all, they’d be away from the glaring eyes of the media.
Despite Will’s attempts to keep things simple, Julianne’s brother seemed determined to turn the nuptials into a three-ring circus, repeatedly asking Will if he wanted to invite any special guests. Will was used to people who wanted to rub shoulders with famous jocks, but he wasn’t going to invite any of his friends to witness a pretend wedding. That would only make a joke of their own marriages. He certainly wasn’t going to ask his teammates to participate in this farce. And he couldn’t ask Coach Zevalos, the one man who’d been like a father to him all those years ago, not while the senator’s name was linked to the mob of media and senate committee staff trying to bring him down. Instead, his mom would stand up as his only witness.
“What I’m sure about is this is the best thing for Owen.” He brushed a strand of soft brown hair off her cheek. Attractively dressed in a shimmery peach dress that wrapped around her narrow waist, his mother looked younger than her age of forty-six. But then, she’d always been pretty, oftentimes the object of many leers and taunts from the teenage boys she’d transported to school during her days as a bus driver. If she knew how many times he’d fought over the suggestive remarks other boys had made about her, she never said.
Whereas Will was brawny and muscular, she was small-boned and delicate. The only similarity between mother and son: emerald green eyes. Today, Annabeth’s glistened with unshed tears.
“Lots of professional athletes father children with women they’re not married to. It’s not like you’d be a pariah. Sadly, I think it’s actually become socially acceptable.”
“Not for me,” Will growled. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it.”
His mother patted their joined hands. “I’m not. Truly, I’m proud of you for taking responsibility for this. But you don’t know this woman. Not really. How can you trust her enough to marry her?”
“I don’t trust her. It’s like that saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And I don’t need to trust her fully because it’s not that kind of marriage. I only have three months before I have to be in training camp and then the season starts. I can’t waste that time arguing over who’ll have custody on which days. I want to bond with my son instead, which means we need to live together in the same house. Being married shields Owen from the negative stigma you know he’ll face.”
“He’s a baby! Do you think he really cares?”
“I care.” Of all people, his mother should have understood that. Will was annoyed that he had to defend his decision to his mother. “We’ve both signed a prenup, which will make the process easier when we separate after the season starts.”
“My heavens, you make it all sound so romantic.”
“This from the mother who used to tell me that fairy tales were for books and movies, but not real life.” It was one of the things Will most admired about his mother; she was pragmatic and determined to roll with whatever life threw at her.
She wiped away a tear. “I only said that because you were constantly dreaming our life would suddenly turn into an episode of Dawson’s Creek or a Disney movie where a football coach would arrive in town and announce he’s your long-lost father.”
“It wasn’t always a football coach. I would have been happy with the Matrix.” Or any man who would give his mother back her youth and rescue them from the poverty that had constantly nipped at their heels.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I just want you to have a chance at a relationship. A real marriage. It’s too late for me, but I’d hoped for something better for you.”
Will placed a finger beneath his mother’s chin, lifting it so they were eye to eye. “Hey, who says it’s too late for you? You could have a relationship. A marriage, too. You just need to get out of that stupid town and live a little.”
It was a familiar argument. Thanks to the outrageous salary Will earned to play a game, his mother could finally afford not to work and to enjoy life. Instead, she continued to dig into her hometown, choosing to live there and manage her grandmother’s antiques store. Maintaining the weathered hundred-year-old building that housed the store cost more than his mother brought in each year, but she refused to give it up. Her unwillingness to venture out of Chances Inlet frustrated Will.
His mother shook her head. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m happy. My life is comfortable and familiar. I’m too set in my ways to want to start over somewhere else, much less with someone else. Besides, I’m not going anywhere while my grandson is in town.”
Will kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll both be able to forge a relationship with Owen. It’s not just the two of us anymore.”
“And his mother? How does she fit into our new family dynamic?”
His gut clenched at the thought of Julianne. He’d been avoiding her these past few days, catching glimpses of her at the hospital when he visited Owen. The conflicting emotions that rolled through his body every time he saw her made him nuts. On the one hand, he wanted to hate her for attempting to shut him out of Owen’s life, but whatever attraction that hummed between them still pulled at him every time he laid eyes on her. He only hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by insisting they spend the next three months in close quarters. For once, he was grateful his mother had remained in Chances Inlet; she’d be effective at running interference.
“Julianne will always be a part of Owen’s life,” he said. “We all need to try to get along, for his sake. Beyond that, she isn’t a part of this family.”
“In a few minutes, she will be.”
“That’s just a legal technicality, Mom.” He stood, gently tugging his mother to her feet beside him. “It’s only temporary.”
Her eyes were still sad as she adjusted his tie. “Not exactly what one wants to hear from the groom on his wedding day, but under the circumstances it’ll have to do. I guess I raised us both right, didn’t I?”
Will smiled down at his mother as she uttered one of her favorite sayings. She’d been a child herself when he was born, living with her grandmother. Both he and his mother had grown up together. “Yeah, Mom. You did.”
• • •
Just like that, Julianne was married. No wedding Mass. No wedding gown. She hadn’t even worn a dress. Not because Will had made the comment about her not wearing one—he was about to find out she was not giving in to him on everything—but because if she dressed like a bride, then this whole mess would seem genuine. The less she thought of their marriage as being real, the more apt she was to get through the next few months. So she’d donned a Calvin Klein silk blouse and pants, both cream colored; her mother’s pearls; and a pair of pearl earrings borrowed from Carly. Her sister-in-law, Faith, wanted to put flowers in Julianne’s hair, but she’d worn it long instead. The simpler the better.
What she hadn’t counted on was a wedding ring. That little detail was causing her to hyperventilate. When Will slid it onto her finger during the ceremony, she nearly fainted. But no ring was presented for her to place on his finger. And that made her angry.
“So let me get this straight, Will asked you to pick out a wedding band for me and you said nothing to me about it?” She paced the long kitchen in Hank’s house while Carly sat quietly at the kitchen table.
“I was doing you a favor, Jules. Will’s a guy. A linebacker. God knows what he would have picked out.”
“It doesn’t matter what he would have picked out! I don’t want to wear a ring. Don’t you get it? This isn’t a real marriage. This”—she waved her hand in front of Carly’s face—“makes it real!”
Carly grabbed her hand and guided her down into a chair beside her. “Here’s a little news flash: This marriage is real. Legally, anyway.”
Julianne slumped in the chair, deflated. “I’m such a hypocrite. I just promised to love a man I barely know for as long as we both shall live. What was I thinking?”
“You were thinking of Owen. And I told you that you didn’t have to go through with this marriage. Something could have been worked out, but you are bent on punishing yourself.”
Except punishing herself was the only way she could alleviate the guilt she felt. Shaking herself, she quickly pulled on what her brother referred to as her Scarlett O’Hara persona.
“No, I just need to stop feeling sorry for myself. This marriage is the best scenario for Owen right now. A mother has to sacrifice for her children. You’ll see when your baby comes.”
Carly placed a hand on her belly as her jaw dropped open.
“That move right there,” Julianne pointed to Carly’s hand caressing her stomach. “It’s a dead giveaway. Not to mention the dopey look your husband has on his face every time he’s passed the nursery this past week.”
“Jules, I . . . we . . . well, we haven’t said anything to anyone yet. It didn’t seem right given what you were going through,” Carly whispered.
Julianne forced a smile on her face. “Don’t be silly. If you’d waited six months to tell me, I would have deserved it. But don’t hide your joy because my life is messed up. You and Shane did things the right way. Be happy. I’m happy for you.” And she was. But if she were telling the truth, she’d admit to also being a tiny bit jealous.
Carly pulled her in for a hug. “You’re doing the right thing, too. I know you’ll find your happiness. Maybe even where you least expect it.”
Julianne broke their embrace and stood to pace the kitchen again. “Carly, don’t start dreaming. There’s not going to be a happily ever after with this marriage. The only thing Will and I have in common is Owen. It would take a lot more than migraine pills for me to fall back into bed with him.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.” Will’s voice was laced with acrimony as he spoke behind her. “Nice to know I won’t need to padlock my door at night.”
Julianne spun on her heels to face him. She’d avoided looking at him all morning, which only made their marriage ceremony more awkward. If the judge noticed she’d recited her vows to the lapel of Will’s beautifully tailored charcoal suit, he didn’t acknowledge it. Likely he’d been paid well not to mention details of their wedding to anyone.
But she couldn’t avoid meeting his gaze any longer. She had to steady herself on her high heels when she did. Will was breathtakingly stunning in his anger. That stubborn jaw called out to her to run her fingers, or her tongue, along his skin to relax his mouth. Julianne clenched her fingers on the edge of the table in order to keep her balance. Or keep them by her side, she wasn’t exactly sure. Animosity was reflected in his green eyes along with that something that seemed to call out to her body. Something she couldn’t define, but that almost had her stepping toward him before Carly jumped between them.
“Hey!” Carly held out a hand in front of Will and Julianne. “You both just promised to love one another. It doesn’t have to be love in the physical sense, but you could try being nice to one another.”
“I am nice, Carly. So nice, in fact, that I came in here to check and see if my . . . wife is okay. She looked a little peaked out there earlier.”
Julianne actually quivered at his menacing tone. “I’m fine,” she lied.
His eyes never wavered from Julianne’s face. “Could you give us a minute, Carly?”
Carly was clearly debating the wisdom of leaving the two of them alone, so Julianne gave her a reassuring nod.
“I’ll just be in the other room. With Shane,” her friend said, as if the threat of her husband would deter Will from harming her.
“It’s okay, Carly. I’ve got something I need to discuss with my husband.”
“God, you two deserve each other,” Carly mumbled as she stalked out of the kitchen.
Will insolently leaned a hip against the counter as he crossed massive arms against his chest. “Eight minutes into married life and you’ve already got a problem, Princess? Why am I not surprised.”
He’d been counting the minutes they’d been married? It would have been romantic had her husband been anyone else. Julianne took two steps forward, standing inches from Will as she waved her left hand in his face. “This is my problem!”
Will didn’t flinch. “You don’t like it? Your best friend picked it out. Complain to her.”
She felt her face flush with anger. “It’s not about the actual ring, you idiot! I won’t like any ring because I’m not going to wear one for a marriage that isn’t real.”
He stepped away from the counter, pulling himself to his full height, and Julianne had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Listen carefully, Princess. There are only two rules in this little farce of a marriage: One, no touching. And two, you’ll behave like a devoted wife and mother in public. Unfortunately, I can’t trust you to carry out rule number two, so the ring stays put.”
Julianne’s head was spinning. “Can’t trust me? Haven’t I done everything you’ve asked so far?” She fully intended to honor his request to act the dutiful wife and mother while in his hometown. But only when and if she ventured out of the house into town.
“Only because you haven’t had a choice. For all I knew these last few minutes while your business manager and your BFF the priest have been chatting me up, you were making a break for it. So no, I don’t trust you!”
She let out an exasperated huff. This man was seriously paranoid. She didn’t have the financial resources to make a run for it right now, even if her conscience would let her. But he didn’t need to know that. It would just give him something else to hold over her. So she tried another tactic.
“Fine.” She placed her hands on her hips. “If I have to wear one, so do you. We don’t want to give people mixed messages, after all.”
“Nice try, Princess. But I’m not the one playing a part. Everyone has already figured out you trapped me into this marriage. Now you have to sell it that you’re devoted to me and trying to make it right.”
Julianne shook with fury. Will wasn’t just paranoid, he was crazy! “Hold on a second, buster. You have seriously been wearing your helmet too tight because that is not how it went down. Yes, I got pregnant, but that wasn’t entirely my fault. You were the one who forced me into marriage. Not the other way around!”
She hadn’t realized she’d stepped in closer until Will’s eyes lowered to the finger she had jabbed into his chest. Julianne felt his rapid heartbeat as he slowly lifted his gaze. Before she could react, he snared her wrist in his big hand and was dragging her around the corner and into a powder room. He slammed the door, locking it, before pressing her against the wall. Grasping both her wrists in one of his hands, he yanked them up between them, while he used his other hand to pin her hip to the wall.
She was locked in a small room with a man twice her size and capable of shattering her wrists with a single squeeze. Still, Julianne wasn’t afraid. Not of Will Connelly, anyway. She was, however, terrified of herself and her body’s reaction to his closeness. Arousal blazed sharply through her as her hips pressed against his hand in an effort get closer to him. Eyes closed, he appeared to be counting silently to himself, but she could still feel his heart beating as if he’d just sacked the quarterback. If he took her now, her body would sing with joy instead of protesting. Worse, he likely knew it.
She had to defuse the situation before she did something stupid. Like lean into him and start kissing him everywhere. Taunting him was not the brightest idea Julianne had, though.
“You’re breaking rule number one. No touching.” It might have been more convincing had she not sounded so breathless.
Will’s eyes snapped open. She pressed her head back against the wall, trying to put more distance between them. The anger once there had morphed into something else: hunger. Sweat pooled along her back, making her silk blouse stick to her body. If he hadn’t been holding her, she might have slid down the wall; her legs were like jelly. One side of his mouth rose up in what probably passed for a smile on William the Conqueror.
“You started it.” His lips moved in for a kiss and Julianne closed her eyes. “Again,” he whispered, his mouth bypassing hers and moving to within millimeters of her left ear.
Julianne tried to pretend she wasn’t disappointed he hadn’t kissed her. “Wh-what do you mean, again?” She stammered, her eyes still closed.
His breath was warm on her neck. Hot, actually. “That night, on Sea Island, you started it then, too. Remember?”
Her eyes were wide now. “I . . .” To finish the statement would be to let him know she did remember. And she wouldn’t, couldn’t give him that leverage over her. But she hadn’t started it. He had. Julianne recalled it vividly. Too vividly. She felt his eyes watching her.
“I don’t remember,” she lied again as she squeezed her eyes shut.
He was silent for a moment, his lips still within striking distance. “Too bad,” he finally said as the thumb anchoring her to the wall began to make lazy circles on her hip. “Because it was incredible.”
Heat pooled between her legs as she relived in vibrant color behind closed eyelids exactly how incredible that night had been.
“You were . . . very passionate,” Will taunted. “I can’t believe you don’t remember wrapping your legs around me. Wrapping your fingers around me. And that tongue, very wicked.”
She bit her lip to stifle a moan. His tongue had been wicked, too. Julianne wasn’t sure if she should pray for the earth to open up and swallow her or a repeat performance.
“It really is too bad,” he breathed before abruptly pulling away and opening the door. “Because that’s the only time it’s gonna happen for us, Princess.”
He strode out of the powder room as Julianne struggled to breathe, the wall propping her weak limbs up. She swiped a tear off her face, and her shiny wedding band glistened with the moisture. Carly was right: Julianne was punishing herself. Three months sharing a house with Will and not being able to act on her desire for him wouldn’t just be punishment, it would be torture.