Marriage of Inconvenience

by Debbie Macomber

  “But it would’ve been.” After a few kisses neither one of them would want to talk, not when they were so eager to make love. There wouldn’t be any discussion, no clear exchange of views; that was predictable. And their embarrassment the next morning would’ve been inevitable.

  “What I don’t understand is why you’re throwing a divorce in my face now.”

  It all made sense to Jamie. “We were planning a divorce anyway, after the baby’s born. There were certain stipulations, agreements we made before the wedding. That’s all changed. If you’re going to have second thoughts, the time is now.”

  “Is it me or you who’s having regrets?” he demanded harshly.

  “We weren’t talking about me.”

  “Maybe we should.”

  “Oh, Rich, please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Try to turn everything I say around. I didn’t mean to hurt or offend you. I just want this to be as clear as we can make it. Having a baby is too important a decision. We can’t mix it up with egos.”

  “Easy to say when my ego’s the one that’s getting battered.”

  “I told you, I’m not doing it intentionally. All I want is for us to be honest with each other. If you decide you’d rather forget the whole thing, then I’ll understand. Look what’s happened so far! We’ve nearly destroyed the marriage, not to mention our friendship, and we haven’t been married six weeks. This isn’t going to be as simple as we thought.”

  Rich rubbed his hand down his face, looking confused.

  A divorce wasn’t what Jamie wanted, but she felt she had to give him the opportunity to end their plans now, before the relationship was further complicated by a child.

  “I was so confident about what we were doing,” he muttered.

  “I …was, too.” Jamie could barely stand the suspense, but she wouldn’t say anything to encourage him one way or the other. They both had to be completely sure that they were doing the right thing. “Would you prefer to take a couple of days to think it over?”

  Rich’s gaze found hers. “Maybe I should. I thought I knew, but maybe I don’t.”

  Disappointed, Jamie nodded. “I’ll wait to hear from you then.” She secured her purse strap over her shoulder and smiled. “Good night, Rich.”

  “’Night.”

  As she headed toward her car, which was parked four or five spaces from his, she struggled not to reveal any of what she was feeling. Rich surprised her by walking the short distance beside her.

  “I’ve really made a mess of this, haven’t I?” he asked. For the first time since she’d mentioned the divorce, he didn’t look as though he wanted to bite her head off.

  “We both have,” she answered in a small voice. She tried to smile at him and failed. When they reached her car, she opened her purse, searching for her keys.

  “It may not make any difference,” Rich said, and his eyes burned into hers, “but I’d like you to know I had to work Saturday morning. I probably should’ve woken you. I assumed my singing in the shower would have—” he gave a lopsided grin “—but when it didn’t, I decided to let you sleep. It was thoughtless of me not to leave a note.”

  “You were at work?”

  Rich nodded. “When I did phone, you weren’t there.”

  “But there wasn’t any message.”

  He shrugged. “After what I went through on Friday, I was done with leaving messages. Anyway, you might’ve phoned me.” The last remark was made as an offhand suggestion, but it didn’t disguise his frustration.

  “I did! But you weren’t home. I didn’t leave a message, either.” What a fool she’d been. What fools they’d both been. Jamie wanted to groan at their stupidity.

  “You phoned?” His sigh of frustration was audible.

  “You did, too?” Her sigh joined his.

  Jamie resisted the urge to weep. There’d been so much she’d wanted to say, and hadn’t. So much she’d longed to tell him. And couldn’t.

  “You’ll phone me…soon?” she asked, trying not to sound as anxious as she felt.

  Rich nodded. One corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I’ll leave a message if you’re not in this time.”

  “If you don’t call me, then I’m calling you.” She refused to leave room for any additional misunderstandings. Not again.

  * * *

  Before he realized where he was going, Rich found himself at Jason’s apartment complex. He sat in the parking lot for several minutes.

  When Jamie brought up the idea of divorce, he thought he’d explode. Rich couldn’t remember ever being angrier in his life. Angry and hurt and confused. They were minutes away from making love, and she dropped the word as though she was talking about something casual, something unimportant.

  Divorce.

  At one point he’d decided there was no reasoning with her, and the best thing to do was walk away from the whole mess. Then the unexpected happened.

  She’d started to make sense.

  Jamie had always been the logical one. The perfectionist. Everything had to be just so. It had driven him to distraction when they were on the yearbook staff together. He should’ve realized that although thirteen years had passed since then, Jamie hadn’t changed.

  She wanted everything as clear as they could make it. Those were her words.

  Rich knew what he wanted, too. He wanted her back in his bed so he could make love to her again. Naturally he didn’t say as much. How could he? She claimed that they were denying what had happened, that they couldn’t pretend nothing had changed when everything was different. Well…yes, that was true—and no, it wasn’t.

  Hours later, Rich was still sitting in his car, and he still didn’t know what to make of their meeting. He needed someone to talk to, so he elected Jason, whether his brother was willing or not.

  The lights were out in Jason’s ground-floor apartment, but that didn’t deter Rich. He leaned on the buzzer until a sliver of light shot out from under the door.

  He waited until he heard the lock snap open, then stepped back.

  “Rich?” His brother groaned, tying the knot in his bathrobe. “What the hell are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

  Rich checked his watch, surprised to discover it was after eleven. “I need to talk,” he said, marching past Jason and into the kitchen.

  A yawning Jason followed. “Is this going to take long?”

  “I don’t know. Why? Have you got a woman with you?”

  “If I did, I wouldn’t have answered the door, no matter how long you rang the bell.” Jason pulled out a kitchen chair, sat down and slouched forward over his folded arms. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not in a talking mood.”

  “Don’t worry, all you have to do is listen.”

  Rich walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. He took out two cold sodas and pushed one at his brother. “When’s the last time you bought groceries?”

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “All you’ve got in there is a tin can with a fork sticking out of it.”

  “Dinner,” Jason said, covering his yawn. He waited a moment, then gestured. “Go on…talk. I’m listening.”

  Now that he had the floor, so to speak, Rich couldn’t figure out where to start. He wasn’t ashamed of having made love to Jamie, but he wasn’t sure how she’d feel if she knew he was talking to Jason about their night together.

  “You need some help with this, little brother?” Jason asked, straightening and opening his soda.

  “No,” Rich said vehemently.

  “I’ll give it to you anyway. You and Jamie have succumbed to the delights of the flesh and now you don’t know what to do about it.”

  Rich was so flabbergasted that all he could do was stare at his brother, his mouth wide open.

  Jason ignored him and guzzled half the can of soda.

  “How’d you guess?”

  “I knew Saturday night,” Jason informed him, wiping his mouth with the back
of his hand.

  “How… What’d I say?”

  “Nothing. I asked you if Jamie was pregnant yet, remember?”

  Rich nodded. The question had hit him like a sledgehammer. Jason’s curiosity was what had led Rich to call her Monday afternoon. Jamie might well be pregnant from their one night together, although she’d been quick to reassure him otherwise.

  “So?” Rich asked, feigning ignorance.

  “You looked so shocked and you closed up tighter than a clam. It was obvious, at least to me, that she might be ‘with child,’ as they say.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Marriage rarely is. Why do you think I’ve avoided it all these years? I tried to tell you before the wedding, but would you listen? Ah, no, this was different, you said. You and Jamie were friends entering into a business agreement. Nothing more and nothing less.”

  “I remember what I said,” Rich muttered, taking another swallow. He’d been incredibly naive about this marriage. The whole thing had sounded like a great idea; he had to admit it still did. Although an even better idea was to turn their arrangement into a till-death-do-us-part marriage.

  “What’s the matter now?”

  Rich crushed the empty aluminum can between his hands. “I just met with Jamie for the first time since…since I spent the night.”

  “It didn’t go well?”

  Rich shrugged. “Put it this way. She suggested a divorce.”

  “A divorce? Good grief, Rich, what did you say to the poor girl?”

  Rich found it interesting that Jason immediately placed the blame on him. “Hell if I know. She came up with that all on her own. According to her, I …we changed the rules so we need to reevaluate our relationship.”

  Jason leaned back in his chair, its two front legs lifting from the floor. “Sounds serious. So are you reevaluating?”

  “Yeah,” Rich said forcefully. “I think we should throw the whole prenuptial agreement out the window and move in together.”

  “In other words, you want this to be a real marriage?”

  “Yes. Hell, yes.”

  “But you don’t think Jamie would go for that?”

  “I don’t know.” He hoped she would, but he’d suffered more than one setback lately. He wasn’t nearly as confident as he had been earlier.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Rich nodded without hesitation. “Like crazy.” Standing, he walked over to the sink and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “No one’s more surprised about that than I am. I didn’t have a clue that I felt anything for Jamie other than friendship. I didn’t even notice how beautiful she is until recently.”

  “What do you plan to do about it?”

  “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be pounding down your door in the middle of the night.” Rich’s response was short-tempered, but Jason should’ve realized that much for himself.

  “Good point.” Jason rubbed the lower half of his face. “I don’t suppose sleep on it is the kind of advice you want.”

  “Hey, if I could sleep, I’d be home in bed.” Rich had lived alone for years, but the thought of returning to an empty apartment filled him with dread. He wanted to be with Jamie. It didn’t even matter whether or not they made love; he needed her. Needed her reassurance. Needed her warmth, her laughter. Her love.

  “I wish I knew what she wanted,” he muttered.

  “Who?”

  “Who do you think?” Rich tossed his brother a scathing look. “Jamie, of course.”

  “Don’t bite my head off.”

  “Then don’t ask idiotic questions.”

  Jason yawned loudly, but Rich ignored his brother’s broad hint. “She didn’t give me a single indication of how she felt about it. Absolutely nothing.”

  “At the risk of appearing stupid,” Jason said mournfully, “an indication of what?”

  “The divorce.” Rich frowned. “She offered it to me as an option, but when I asked what she wanted, she wouldn’t say.”

  “She couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” Jason responded between yawns, “you’d be influenced by what she said and she wants the decision to be yours. She’s a smart gal.”

  Rich paced the compact kitchen. “I told her I’d think everything over and get back to her.”

  “Then go home,” Jason said, standing. “Now.” He ushered Rich toward the front door. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly at my brightest, and I’ve got surgeries scheduled all day tomorrow. I need my sleep.”

  Rich brushed off his coat sleeves and chuckled. “I can take a hint.”

  Grinning, Jason shook his head. “No, you can’t.”

  * * *

  “Dr. Fullerton’s office.”

  “Hello,” Jamie said, her hand tightening on the receiver. “I …need to cancel my appointment with Dr. Fullerton.” She gave the date and time.

  “Would you like to reschedule now?”

  Jamie would’ve liked nothing better, but not knowing what Rich would decide made that futile. “Not now, thank you. I’ll call you next week.”

  Jamie had delayed contacting Dr. Fullerton’s office all day. She’d hoped to hear from Rich early that morning. In her optimistic imagination, she’d had him phoning first thing with the assurance that he felt as strongly committed to their marriage and their child as ever.

  When she hadn’t heard from him by noon, she had no option but to cancel her appointment. It wasn’t the end of the world. Yet she was overwhelmed by her emotions for the rest of the afternoon. She had to struggle to keep her feelings from interfering with her ability to make sound business decisions.

  She’d thrown a frozen entrée into her microwave for dinner and munched on miniature marshmallows while watching a cable-TV reality dating show. So much for good eating habits or any semblance of healthy emotion. She’d sunk about as low as she could.

  Jamie, normally meticulous about her clothes, didn’t bother to change after work. Instead, she wandered around the condo in her suit, her blouse pulled out from the waist. Her slippers made scuffing noises as she shuffled from room to room with no real purpose or direction. She would’ve liked to blame her lethargy on her recent bout with the flu, but she knew otherwise.

  What was really bothering her was her husband. Or rather, her lack of one. A real one. In their discussion the night before, she’d tried to be as forthright and honest with Rich as she could. She’d been careful not to hint at her feelings or preferences. She was no longer so sure she’d made the right decision. Maybe she should’ve mentioned, even casually, how much Rich’s willingness to follow through on their agreement meant to her. Perhaps if she’d assured him she’d be a good mother, their evening might have turned out differently.

  No. That would’ve been emotional blackmail.

  She couldn’t have said any of those things, any more than she could’ve admitted how much she loved him. Or how eager she was to explore the sensuality they’d so recently discovered.

  Jamie was pacing in front of the television, clutching the plastic bag of marshmallows, when the doorbell chimed.

  Her heart lurched. It could be Rich, but she was afraid to hope. More likely it was her neighbor coming to complain that the television was too loud.

  Her mouth was full of marshmallows, which she attempted to swallow quickly. It didn’t work, although she was chewing as fast as she could. She unlocked the door and nearly choked when Rich smiled in her direction.

  “Hi.”

  She raised her right hand, as though she were making a pledge.

  “There’s something wrong with your cheeks. Have you got the mumps?”

  Pointing at the bag of marshmallows, she chewed some more and swallowed a mouthful of marshmallows. “Hi,” she said, her heart leaping against her ribs. “I … I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I know. Rather than risk leaving a message, I
decided to stop over. You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Of course not.” If he had the slightest idea how pleased she was to see him, he’d be really smiling instead of grinning at her with those blue eyes of his. She knew she was staring, but Jamie couldn’t stop looking at Rich.

  “Something doesn’t smell right,” he said, wrinkling his nose and sniffing the air. He walked into her kitchen, and opened the microwave. Cringing, he waved his hand in front of the now-cooked—overcooked—entrée.

  “My dinner,” she explained, stuffing the bag of marshmallows in the silverware drawer.

  “I thought you’d given up on this stuff.”

  “I did…but I wasn’t in the mood to cook tonight.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I had to cancel my appointment with Dr. Fullerton and I was depressed. I know I’m depressed when I crave marshmallows and turn on junk television. Life doesn’t get any bleaker than that.”

  Rich was looking at her as though he’d never seen her before.

  “Go ahead and make fun of me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Sure you would.” She swiped the back of her hand under her nose. “I’ll have you know I didn’t get into the marshmallows when I broke up with Tony.”

  “In other words I’m responsible for reducing you to this?”

  “Not exactly. I can’t blame you for everything. Let’s just say you’re responsible for my choice in TV viewing.”

  Rich grinned and brushed a strand of hair from her temple. “Would it help if I told you I’ve come to a decision?”

  “Probably.” She was almost afraid to hope….

  Instead of telling her what he’d decided, he removed her unappetizing dinner from the microwave, carried it to the garbage can and dumped it inside.

  “If you want junk food, we’ll order pizza, all right?”

  She nodded eagerly. The we part didn’t escape her. Apparently he intended to stay a while, which was fine with her. More than fine.

  “While we’re at it, I think it would be best if you ditched the marshmallows, too.”

  Wordlessly she jerked open her silverware drawer and handed him her stash.