A Wedded Arrangement (Convenient Marriages, #3)

by Adams, Noelle

  “We can stop anytime you want,” Lance went on, pushing some of his hair off his forehead. “But my other option is more months of celibacy, so as long as you’re offering, I’ll be taking it.”

  He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of imported beer. Then he turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

  Savannah drooped back against the counter, her body trembling helplessly.

  Well, that answered that question.

  She’d made herself as vulnerable as her nature allowed. There was nothing more she could do.

  She’d thought she’d changed, but maybe she hadn’t.

  She was the same girl who always, always played it safe. She was the same bitter, guarded girl she’d been in high school, back when Lance was the epitome of everything she despised. She was the same girl who’d sat in a truck and overheard Lance laughing at her dad.

  Things hadn’t really changed at all.

  She’d been fooling herself to hope for anything different.

  Lance had given her his answer, and she wasn’t going to risk it again.

  Nine

  SAVANNAH SPENT MOST of the following day with her parents.

  She told herself there was good reason for it. She hadn’t spent as much time with them lately as she used to because she’d been hanging out a lot with Lance. It had been a full two weeks since she’d scrubbed down their bathroom and kitchen, so that definitely needed doing. Plus it was just a nice thing to do. Spending a Sunday with your parents.

  So she felt perfectly justified in her decision, and it was just a happy coincidence that it helped her avoid Lance for most of the day.

  She took her parents out to breakfast and then went to church with them. Then they returned to the house for lunch, and afterward Savannah cleaned while her parents dozed in their recliners to a British mystery.

  Later, they all took a trip to the grocery store to stock up for the week, and then they played Scrabble until five, which was her parents’ suppertime.

  They had soup and a baguette they’d gotten from the store. Savannah and her mom cleaned up afterward while her father went to watch the news.

  “Well,” her mom said as she put a bowl Savannah had rinsed in the dishwasher. “As soon as we’re done here, I’m sure you’ll want to get back home.”

  “There’s no hurry. I can hang out and watch some TV with y’all for a while.”

  “Van, honey, as great as it was having this whole day with you, obviously you’re avoiding something at home. We love you, but you have your own life and your own husband—”

  “Oh please, Mom, you know I don’t have a husband like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like a husband who’s waiting for me at home. Lance has his own life. We do our own thing. You know this. It’s how it’s been all year.”

  “Well, it was that way up until last month, but there was a definite change after you went to that wedding in Virginia.”

  Savannah swallowed hard and focused on the spoons she was holding under the water even though they were already perfectly well rinsed. “It didn’t change that much.”

  “It seemed like it did to us. You were spending more time at home, and you were going out on the boat with him on the weekends, and you seemed... I don’t know... happy.”

  “I’ve always been happy.”

  “Sure. You haven’t been unhappy. But you’ve definitely been happier lately. I know we’re just your old parents, but we’re not stupid. We know it was Lance.”

  Her eyes burned almost painfully as she stared down at the sink. “It wasn’t... It was stupid. It wasn’t what I thought.”

  “What happened, honey?”

  She had to take a deep breath, turning her face away so her mom wouldn’t see the way she was contorting her features in an attempt to control her emotions. She’d been fine all day. There was no reason to fall apart now. “We got in a big fight.”

  “Okay. I guess that’s troubling. But it’s not like it’s an unusual occurrence in a marriage. Fights are normal. You talk it out, forgive, and get over it. Just go talk to him and work it out.”

  It hurt so much to admit it that she could barely get the words out. “It’s not... that. It’s... I was wrong. I... misunderstood.”

  Her mother put a hand on Savannah’s shoulder and turned her around, catching a tear slipping down Savannah’s cheek. “What did you misunderstand?”

  “Lance’s...” With a colossal effort, she steeled herself and reined in the tears. “I was thinking things were different with us than they were. I thought they’d changed. But they... they hadn’t.”

  “I just don’t believe that. You’re not a stupid person. You wouldn’t think things had changed in a relationship unless they had.”

  “But I am stupid. I’ve tried all my life not to be—I’ve tried so hard to always be smart and safe—but I turned out stupid all the same. I wanted...” She shook her head hard. “I was wrong. Lance doesn’t feel for me what I hoped he might. And the stupid thing is I’ve known it all along and just fooled myself into—”

  “Oh my goodness, Savannah, that doesn’t sound right. How do you know he doesn’t feel for you that way?”

  “I know. I know.” The dishes were rinsed and in the dishwasher, so Savannah finally turned off the water in the sink.

  “Now please don’t take this the wrong way, honey, but you’ve had walls up around your heart your whole life. I understand why. It was so hard growing up here for you. You had to be tough and resilient, and you never backed down from a fight. But in always being tough and resilient, you also made sure to never let yourself be vulnerable. Not completely. Not the way you have to be in love.”

  Savannah was almost crying again. She wasn’t exactly sure where her mother was going with this, but she wanted to hear it, as if it might give her an answer she desperately needed. “I’ve done the best I could.”

  “I know you have. Your dad and I are proud of every single part of who you are. But part of being tough for you has been not trusting other people. Not fully. Not all the way. Particularly people who have money.”

  “I thought I trusted Lance.”

  “Did you? Or did you automatically assume he couldn’t love you and couldn’t be trusted because of who he is?”

  Savannah was sobbing for real then, trying to hold the tears back with her hands. “You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter. He told me. He told me he doesn’t... He told me it was nothing but casual.”

  Her mother didn’t answer immediately, and when her tears had subsided, Savannah lowered her hand to see her mom was giving her a slightly confused, thoughtful look.

  “He told me. It’s not me not trusting him. He told me. Last night.”

  “Okay,” her mom said slowly. “I don’t really know what to make of that because I just don’t believe it’s true.”

  “He did—”

  “Oh, I believe you that he said it. I just don’t believe he meant it.”

  “But why would he—”

  “Because he’s just like you, honey. He’s got walls around him just as high and more than a mountain of pain in his life that has built them. He’s just as scared of being vulnerable and getting hurt as you are.”

  That wasn’t what Savannah had expected. She stared at her mom through faintly lingering tears, and for the first time felt a spark of hope.

  She’d never thought she was stupid. Surely she wouldn’t have fallen for Lance unless she was getting something from him in return. Something beyond casual-slash-hate sex.

  “So you think...”

  “I think you need to talk to him. Just talk to him. I know it’s not easy for you. But be as brave as you’ve ever been. Go home to your husband and talk to him.”

  Savannah wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and sniffed. Then she made up her mind. “Okay. Okay. I’ll try.”

  SHE SAID GOOD NIGHT to her parents and drove straight back to the condo. Both of Lance’s cars were parked in th
eir spaces in the garage, so she knew he was home.

  Which was good.

  She had to do this right away, or she’d chicken out and never do it at all.

  When she walked into the entryway, she toed off her shoes and called out, “You around, Carlyle?”

  She heard a muffled grunt from the kitchen area, so she stepped around the corner to look.

  Lance was there. Sitting on a stool at the island. Nursing a bottle of beer and evidently doing nothing else. He had on worn khakis and a T-shirt, and he clearly hadn’t shaved that morning. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was resting on one of his hands.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, walking toward him.

  He blinked and straightened up. He raised his bottle of beer and made a cheers gesture at her. Then he gulped down what was left in the bottle.

  The closer she got to him, the more she smelled beer. “How many of those have you had?”

  “Not enough.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Where have you been?” It was more hoarse accusation than question. His eyes were oddly blurred.

  “With my parents. Are you drunk? At seven o’clock on a Sunday evening?”

  “No, I’m not drunk.”

  He didn’t sound drunk. Other than the slightest slur to his words, he sounded as lucid as he always was. But he’d definitely had more than one beer. That much was obvious.

  “Well, I wanted to talk. Are you up for that now or would you rather...” She gestured toward the stool and the empty beer bottle.

  “What are we talking about?” He straightened up even more and turned his stool to face her.

  His condition had distracted her from her purpose. She couldn’t remember anything she’d planned out to say on the ride over. Off-stride and confused, she blurted out, “Us.”

  “Us? Us?”

  “Yes. That’s what I want to talk about.”

  “Okay. We can do that.” Lance pushed a hand through his hair. If he was hoping to bring order to the wild mess of curls, he failed entirely. “Let’s talk about us.”

  She opened her mouth and started to say something. Anything.

  But Lance went on before she could. “Actually, I can just cut to the chase and get this over with. There is no us.”

  It felt like a punch to the gut. The blow of it stole her breath for a moment. But then she remembered her mom’s advice and pressed on. “There is an us. Maybe it’s a weird, messed-up us, but there’s something. We’re married. We’ve been having sex. That means something.”

  He groaned and rubbed at his face in a frustrated gesture. “It does mean something. It means I was tired of going without sex for so long, and you were the only one I was allowed to fuck.”

  She froze. Made a faint, agonized sound in her throat. For a moment she genuinely thought she might pass out at the reality of what she was hearing. The pain of it.

  Lance sneered, his eyes colder than she’d seen them for a long time. “Don’t look so shocked and innocent. You knew that’s what it was from the beginning. No one lied to you about that.”

  She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Licked her dry lips. Managed to begin, “But... but I thought... I...”

  “What? You thought I might be falling for you, like some sort of clueless teenage boy? You thought I was building ridiculous fantasies about a life we could have together? What do you take me for? I can get any woman I want. You know that, right? So why the hell would I settle for a prickly, self-righteous nobody with so many inhibitions she’s never had a one-night stand, never been drunk, never had any real fun in her life. Who’s spent her life as a scared little girl with her face pressed up against the glass, angry about everything she can never have. You think I’m fucking stupid enough to want a woman who has no idea how to let her walls down? You think anyone would want a woman like that? You think anyone would fall in love with her?”

  Savannah made a sobbing sound. She really couldn’t believe this was happening. He’d taken every single moment of vulnerability she’d shared with him—every little piece of her soul—and he’d turned it all into a weapon with just a few words.

  A weapon against her.

  Maybe she could understand lashing out if he was still angry about the fight they’d had yesterday, but he didn’t sound angry at all. But he didn’t sound mean. Or like he was lashing out. Or anything.

  He sounded lazy and almost amused.

  She’d never once run from a fight, but there was no way she could stand there and take that.

  She bit back a sob, whirled around, and ran out of the condo, grabbing her purse, keys, and shoes on the way out.

  TWO HOURS LATER, SAVANNAH was on her third drink, and some of the pain was finally blurring over.

  Green Valley had one nightclub where the rich people would go to drink thirty-dollar martinis and rub up against each other on the dance floor. There were also several bars in local restaurants and hotels. And, just on the edge of town, there was what could only be classified as a honky-tonk.

  No one from the gated communities ever went there. It was populated solely by blue-collar workers who wanted to blow off a little steam on the weekends.

  That was where Savannah went.

  She’d been once or twice before with friends. They’d had fun when she was younger. Done a little line dancing and flirted with guys in cowboy boots. But she’d never gone alone before.

  There wasn’t anyone she knew there tonight. Just a bunch of strangers who eyed her warily, as if she didn’t belong, and then some men who made a beeline over to her and wanted to buy her a drink or ask her to dance.

  She accepted the drinks. And the dances.

  Lance thought he knew her. He thought she was still the little girl in her dad’s truck. He thought she was nothing but inhibited. That she was too anxious and uptight to ever have fun.

  He was wrong.

  She could be like any other girl. She could let down her walls. She could get drunk. She could take risks. She could be stupid.

  She would show him.

  She’d been too brokenhearted to fight him back at the condo, but this was her way of fighting him now. He didn’t have to be in the same room for it to feel like she was holding her own against him in this conflict.

  She knew she wasn’t really thinking straight, but she was hurting too much to back down. She wasn’t so far gone that she was willing to put herself in danger, however. When she started growing tipsy, she pulled out her phone and called Rosa.

  “What’s up?” Rosa asked.

  “I’m at Ramblers.”

  “What? Why are you there?”

  “I’m having fun. I’m dancing.”

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Nope. Just tipsy. Lance thinks I’m inhibited, but I’m not.”

  “Are you okay? Did something happen with Lance?”

  “He doesn’t love me. He said no man ever could. He doesn’t even like me. He was just screwing me because I was the only person he was allowed to screw.”

  “That doesn’t sound—”

  “He told me so. Right to my face. You want to come out and dance with me?”

  “Not really. But I’m not going to leave you at Ramblers in this condition. The kids are already in bed, so Greg can stay with them. I’m coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’m not gonna go. I’m gonna dance again. And Lance Carlyle can go fuck himself in the shower. It’s the only thing he’s really good at.”

  Rosa had already hung up, so Savannah slid her phone back into her pocket and looked around for someone else to buy her a drink.

  She found someone. Then she danced with him, amazed at how good she was at doing the two-step. Then another guy bought her a drink, and she danced with him too.

  And finally—finally—the world started to blur at the edges, so it didn’t hurt so much anymore.

  ROSA SHOWED UP ABOUT fifteen minutes after Savannah hung up with her, but Savannah didn’t want to leave. Unable
to convince her, Rosa planted herself on a stool at the bar, and she glared at any man who tried to approach her.

  Savannah didn’t mind. She was glad to have her friend there. It made her feel safer—like she wouldn’t throw away a lifetime of being smart and safe in one night of being wild.

  She wasn’t exactly sure how long she stayed. Everything melded together in a haze of country music, blue jeans, and men with beer on their breath. It felt like it was late at night when the music shifted to a loud song with a rock beat.

  The man she’d been dancing with let go of her shoulder and waist and wound her arms around his neck. That seemed perfectly amenable to Savannah. She didn’t care about the man at all, but he wasn’t disgusting or anything. And she felt like doing a sexy dance. She might as well do it with him.

  She was really getting into it—grinding her hips against him—when she was vaguely conscious of a presence behind her.

  A familiar presence.

  Lance.

  Right there in the middle of a honky-tonk dance floor, looking sexy and expensive even in his casual clothes.

  She gaped at him, trying to figure out what he was doing there.

  Lance narrowed his eyes at the man she’d been dancing with. “Take off.”

  The man frowned. “Who the hell are you to—”

  “I’m her husband. Take off now.”

  The man walked away with a shrug.

  In a series of slow movements, Savannah turned to face Lance, then raised a hand to give him a little shove against the shoulder, thinking it might get him away, and then spit out, “Fuck. You. Lance. Carlyle.”

  “Very nice,” Lance murmured. “That was an impressively nuanced verbal assault.”

  She had no idea what he’d just said, but she knew it wasn’t a compliment. She scowled at him. “Why are you here?”

  “Rosa called me.”

  Savannah gave another outraged gasp. She couldn’t seem to stop making them. She looked around blindly for her friend and saw her getting off her stool.

  “Don’t be mad at Rosa,” Lance said. “She didn’t rat you out. She called me to yell at me for being an asshole, and I overheard the music in the background and figured out where you were.”