She grabbed it from the nightstand where she’d set it last night before giving Lance a tongue-in-cheek striptease, complete with humming her own musical accompaniment, and saw that the text was from Rosa, continuing a conversation they’d begun the day before.
Just ASK him!
Savannah glanced at the bathroom door before she tapped out a reply. I still don’t know.
You wouldn’t have mentioned it if you didn’t want him to go with you.
Maybe.
Not maybe. For sure. So just ask. The worst that happens is he says no.
Savannah stared at the words on her phone, torn and confused and ridiculously nervous about issuing this particular invitation to Lance.
Another text came in from Rosa as she hesitated. Look. If he says yes, all good. If he says no, then he’s really the jerk you used to think he was.
Savannah glanced at the bathroom door one more time. She could hear the shower still. That’s what I’m afraid of.
I know. But better to find out now, before it’s too late.
Part of Savannah suspected it was already too late. Her feelings were very much engaged where Lance was concerned. But Rosa was right. If Lance said no to a reasonable invitation, then she’d know she had to pull back from their relationship considerably. She was perfectly willing to have fun with him for as long as she was allowed, but she wasn’t going to get deeper into this thing than he was.
Ok. I’ll do it, she texted.
Do it now. I’ll check back in ten minutes.
Savannah put down her phone and drank more of her coffee as she heard the shower turn off. A couple of minutes later, Lance came into the room with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Haven’t made much progress yet in getting up, have you?” he asked in a teasing drawl.
“I have to finish my coffee first. Otherwise, your generosity in bringing it to me would be wasted.”
“Wouldn’t want that, would we?”
“No, we wouldn’t.” Savannah paused, just about to bring up the invitation but getting stalled by the strangest clench of nerves in her throat. Instead, she said, “That was a long shower.”
“Was it?” He was absently fingering his wet mop of hair, as if the move might magically bring the curls into order.
“I thought so. I wondered if you were doing something other than cleaning yourself in there.”
With a twitch of a smile, he walked over to the bed. “Actually, no. I haven’t had to do as much of that lately, for obvious reasons.” When he reached her, he leaned down to give her lower lip a little tug between his teeth. “But if I need mental inspiration in the future for those activities, I’ll have an endless supply from the memory of you doing that striptease last night.”
She giggled and pushed him away, cringing as his hair dripped on her. “Don’t expect it to happen again. That was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing. I’m not a particularly adventurous person. In fact, before last month, I’d never had casual sex before.”
“I’m still amazed you made it this long without a one-night stand.”
“Seriously? That surprises you? Carlyle, I’ve never even been drunk before.”
He paused at that. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I’ve had a few drinks. Been a little tipsy. But never been full-out drunk.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. I’ve just been smart and safe all my life, and that felt like a stupid thing to do.” She shook her head. “All that to say that the striptease might never happen again.”
His eyes were gentle, as if he understood how she was feeling. “Then I’ll treasure the memory forever.” He walked back over to the dresser and opened one of the top drawers. Then he dropped the towel, giving Savannah an excellent view of his tightly curved ass as he pulled on a pair of the boxer briefs he always wore.
He glanced over his shoulder without warning and caught her staring.
“What?” she asked blandly. “Just taking in the scenery.”
His answer was slightly muffled because he was now pulling on a white undershirt. “I’d be happy to give you a show. Just say the word.”
She laughed helplessly, so much so that she almost spilled her coffee.
Her hilarity earned her an aggrieved glare, its effectiveness offset by the way he was vigorously towel-drying his hair. “Some wife you’ve turned out to be. Mocking your husband’s sincere offer of sexual tantalization.”
“Is tantalization actually a word?”
“Of course it is. Look it up in the dictionary. The act of tantalizing.”
She wasn’t about to do such a thing because odds were Lance was right, and he didn’t need the ego boost. She gave him a little sneer as he went into his walk-in closet and returned with a medium-gray suit and a white dress shirt.
She finished her coffee, absently watching him as he dressed and unsure why she enjoyed it so much. It was something about the way his gorgeous tanned body got covered up by the expensive, professional clothes. It was sexier to her than a striptease would have been.
He’d put on everything except his tie, belt, and socks when he glanced in the mirror and finger-combed his hair back.
“Do you never try to blow-dry it?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“Are you kidding me? If I did that, it would frizz like crazy and end up sticking out about a foot in all directions.”
“But surely there would be a way to blow it straighter so it wouldn’t frizz like that.”
He frowned, one hand still in his hair. “Do you not like it?”
“Of course I like it! Don’t you dare do anything to it. I would seriously cry if you did something cruel like cut all your curls off. I was really just wondering if you’d ever thought about it. It’s not exactly normal hair for a guy who wears suits like you wear.”
His expression had relaxed at her vehement assurance, and now he shrugged. “I work for myself, so I can wear my hair any way I want.”
“If you grew it out a little longer, you could pull it back in a ponytail. Then it wouldn’t keep falling in your face.”
He grinned as he expertly knotted his tie. “Or I could try a man bun. I bet that would make you hot.”
That earned more giggles from Savannah, which was obviously what he was going for. He looked very pleased with himself as he sat down on the foot of the bed to put on his socks.
Savannah glanced over at her phone on the nightstand. Rosa was going to text in a couple of minutes to make sure the invitation had been issued.
And so far it hadn’t.
She cleared her throat and tried to think of some way to lead into the topic.
“You okay?” Lance asked.
“Yeah. Of course. I’m fine.”
“You got a cold or something?”
Savannah almost rolled her eyes. Leave it to Lance to notice something was going on with her but cluelessly land on the wrong interpretation. “No, I don’t have a cold. People clear their throats sometimes just because, you know.”
“Do they?”
“Yes, they do.” She gave him a lip curl for good measure before she remembered she shouldn’t be antagonizing him. “Do you have anything planned for tomorrow?” she blurted out before she could second-guess herself.
He’d been buttoning his suit jacket in the mirror, fully dressed now, but at her question he turned to face her. “I don’t think so. What did you want to do?”
“Nothing. I mean, I don’t really...” Shit. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she so uptight about this?
He came closer to the bed. His expression was odd. It was his teasing look but like something tight was underlying it. “What’s going on? You got plans with your secret boyfriend, and you don’t want your husband to find out?”
She huffed, her nerves immediately relieved by his obnoxiousness. “Oh no. My secret boyfriend and I get together every other weekend, and this isn’t one of those weekends. I actually have a wedding I need to go to tomorro
w. For a friend of mine from high school.”
“Oh yeah?” His eyes were searching her face like he was looking for something in particular. She had no idea what it might be. “Who is that?”
“Trisha Pendlewood. Did you ever know her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“She was in my grade, so she was younger than you. And she wasn’t exactly your crowd. But anyway, she’s a friend of mine, and she’s getting married tomorrow. A bunch of my friends will be there. My crowd from high school. Not yours. So I’m planning to go.”
“Okay.” He stood where he was near the bed, meeting her eyes and not moving.
Damn him. Surely it wouldn’t kill him to volunteer to go with her. She’d been to enough weddings for his friends, after all. “So,” she said lamely, “it starts at five.”
“Okay. You want me to make myself scarce tomorrow? Is that what this weird little conversation is about?”
She almost said yes—it would be easier and keep her from feeling so vulnerable—but the idea of telling Rosa she’d chickened out pushed her over the edge. “No. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me. That’s all.” She sniffed. “And it wasn’t a weird conversation.”
He gave a sharp burst of laughter and stepped over to sit on the edge of the bed right next to where she was lying. “It was definitely a weird conversation. But of course I’ll go with you if you want me to. I just figured you wouldn’t want to bring your rich-boy husband to a get-together of your old friends. They might think you were a traitor to the cause or something.”
She shook her head and fiddled with the cuff that was peeking out of his jacket sleeve. “A few of them probably will. But I’ll take you anyway, if you might want to go.”
“I do want to go.” He leaned over to kiss her gently just on the side of her mouth. He paused a moment, his lips lingering, before he moved to kiss the other side in the same way. “And I won’t even be offended that you waited until the very last minute to ask me, as if I’m a loser who doesn’t have a packed social schedule.”
She laughed and pulled him down into a clumsy hug. The tightness in her gut had relaxed now, and she was feeling almost giddy.
Plus she’d get to report back to Rosa that she’d met the challenge and come out victorious.
THE WEDDING THE NEXT day was being held in a local Presbyterian church. It wasn’t one of the churches that the rich Green Valley folks frequented, so the building wasn’t large or upgraded. It was already mostly full when Savannah and Lance arrived, and she felt way too many eyes on them as they followed the usher to a couple of open seats.
Savannah wore a pretty wrap dress in a blue-and-white toile pattern, and Lance wore a suit, of course. Their outfits were perfectly appropriate for the occasion, but everyone was staring at them anyway.
It was Lance. Of course it was Lance. He was a Carlyle, and his lean, fit body and auburn curls were utterly unmistakable.
If she’d come on her own, she would have been able to slip in unnoticed. But Lance was never unnoticed. Not in Green Valley.
Savannah sat beside him, leaning against him when he put a casual arm around her, but she didn’t feel comfortable. She didn’t feel like herself. She didn’t feel like people—many of whom used to be friends—were looking at her like they used to.
Lance had been joking about her being seen as a traitor to the cause, but maybe there was some truth to that.
She’d married Lance Carlyle. She wasn’t the Savannah Emerson she’d always been.
Her stomach slowly sank as she processed that reality. That things would never be the same for her.
The wedding started on time and went quickly. Savannah was happy for her friend, and she was also glad the ceremony didn’t drag on. Because the wedding was low budget, the reception was being held in the church fellowship hall, so everyone filed out of the sanctuary and over to the fellowship hall to nibble on hors d’oeuvres as they waited for the wedding party to finish pictures.
Lance could face any situation and any crowd with his normal confident insouciance. He didn’t appear to care that people stared at him—not all of them friendly looks—and he chatted with the people who came up to greet Savannah and made easy conversation with her when they were alone.
He didn’t say anything about her being slightly stiff, so maybe she was hiding it better than she thought. She wasn’t planning to stay at the reception long, but she needed to at least wait until the bride and groom made an appearance.
Despite her discomfort, things were basically okay until she went to the bathroom. It was the first time she didn’t have Lance by her side, and suddenly people wanted to talk to her. She was stopped by three different high school friends on her way to and in the bathroom, asking her about how she’d ended up married to Lance. None of them were rude, and they might even have been sincerely interested, but the nature of their questions made Savannah feel defensive—for both her and for Lance.
Then, on her way back to him, she was stopped by Melissa, who could only be classified as a frenemy from high school. Savannah had known Melissa most of her life, but she’d never really liked her.
Melissa didn’t try to gild her suspicions with the pretense of friendly interest. She asked straight out if Savannah had married Lance for money. She laughed after she said it, as if it had been a joke, but it wasn’t.
It definitely wasn’t.
Normally Savannah could have easily come up with a clever reply, but her anxiety about Lance was evidently getting in the way of her brain. She stared at Melissa speechlessly, feeling like she’d just been punched.
“I’m sorry,” Melissa said, evidently seeing her expression. “I just assumed. Why else would you waste your time with one of those selfish, heartless assholes? We all know how they treat people like us. Or maybe you don’t think you’re one of us anymore.”
The worst thing was that Melissa was still smiling, as if she were only teasing.
She wasn’t teasing.
Savannah went cold.
She normally wouldn’t have minded what someone she cared so little for said to her, but the problem was that Melissa was saying the things she secretly suspected herself.
All of it was true.
Savannah had married Lance only for the money.
Lance had spent his life being part of a world who used and looked down on people like Savannah.
And maybe instead of using this marriage for her own purposes, Savannah was actually letting it change her, letting it turn her into something she didn’t want to be.
Maybe this was the moment she finally betrayed that little girl in her dad’s truck who used to gaze out the window at the big houses that represented a world entirely foreign to hers. A world of little boys who made fun of her dad.
She mumbled something to Melissa that had the effect of ending the conversation (she couldn’t have repeated afterward what it was she’d said), and then she looked around the crowded hall for Lance.
It didn’t take long to find him. He was standing near the wall with a glass of inexpensive red wine. He looked attractive and intelligent and confident and expensive and absolutely in control of the world. He was talking to a woman Savannah recognized but couldn’t place—definitely not one of her high school friends.
In that moment, she had the most visceral feeling of distance—like she was miles and miles away from her own husband. And everyone else in the room.
And that little girl in the truck she used to be.
It made her want to cry.
She was working up the will to return to Lance when someone stopped her with a light hand on her arm.
She turned to see Carter Wilson, looking down on her with his warm, smiling eyes. “Hey,” she said, returning his smile and grateful for any sort of distraction from her heavy thoughts. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was on the other side of the sanctuary, but I saw you and Lance come in. Were you friends with Scott?”
“Not with Scott so m
uch. With Trisha. I’m actually surprised to see you here. This doesn’t seem like your kind of crowd.”
“I knew Scott from the basketball team, and we’ve kept up with each other since then.”
Savannah shouldn’t be surprised. Carter was the only one of the rich kids who’d been nice to her, and she wouldn’t have been the only one. He’d evidently crossed class boundaries with a lot of people, including the groom. “Are you here alone?”
“No, but your husband is currently monopolizing my date, so I figured I could do the same with you. Are you okay? You looked kind of upset a minute ago.” There was nothing but genuine concern in his expression.
Savannah swallowed. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t think of an excuse, so she didn’t give one.
“You sure?”
“Y-yeah. It’s just...” She dropped her eyes. “I guess I was feeling a little... lonely. Like I don’t really fit anymore.”
“Well, you’ve changed since high school.”
“I know. I married Lance.”
“That’s true, but even before then. Your edges were a lot sharper back then.” At her surprised look, he hurried on. “That’s not an insult. But it was hard for people to get close to you back then. You always seemed to be looking for a fight.”
“I think I was. Still am, if you want to know the truth.”
“No, you aren’t.”
She looked up at him in confusion. “I’m not?”
“No. I don’t really think you are.”
The words hit her strangely, revealing something she hadn’t known.
She wasn’t always waiting for a fight anymore. She wasn’t always angry about the way she and those she’d loved had been hurt in the past.
Sometime in the past year, she’d learned how to forgive. Let go.
She had no idea when or how it had happened, but that was why she felt so different now. Why she felt like she could never be the Savannah Emerson she used to be.
It wasn’t because she had a rich husband now.
It was because she had changed.
Carter went on, completely unaware of how this revelation rocked her. “I would have asked you out back in school if I’d seen even a little bit of softness, but I was too much of a wuss, so I never did.”
A Wedded Arrangement (Convenient Marriages, #3) Page 14
