The Cost of Happiness: A Contemporary Romance

by Braden, Magdalen

  They finished their meal in companionable silence. He washed the dishes while she dried.

  It was then that Dan realized he wanted to marry Meghan. Not for the sex—well, not just for the sex—but for this. Companionship with someone who thought about things the way he did. They might arrive at different conclusions, but he had no trouble seeing how she got to hers. The way her mind worked was one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. He wanted that in his life, every day, into old age and beyond.

  Still, marriage? On so many levels it would be wildly premature even to pursue marriage. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could talk her into living with him.

  In the meantime, though—

  “What are you doing for Labor Day?” he asked. Still a few weeks away, but not too soon to ask.

  She tilted her head as she considered him and his question. “Do you think the case will require us to work through the long weekend?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. We have to get the documents scanned and the audio tapes copied onto CDs, but that’s nothing. Just a matter of working with a vendor. I want to have a solution to Greg’s legal situation by the end of this week. No, I hope to get away for Labor Day. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me.”

  Her eyes were wide open and her face registered nothing more than mild surprise. Tough to tell what she was thinking. Finally she blinked. “Where are you going?”

  “Maine. Going to visit my parents. They have a cabin on an island in Casco Bay. Kind of rustic living, but you might enjoy it.”

  “Are you driving?”

  “I was planning to fly.” Dan could guess what Meghan’s next comment would be.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t afford a vacation at this time.” Her face was completely shuttered, almost alien to him.

  “As my guest?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Dan recognized when to retreat from negotiations. “Okay. Maybe I’ll stay in Philly instead.”

  Her eyes flew to his. “But you want to visit your family.”

  “I’d rather be with you.”

  “Oh.”

  “C’mon, let’s go to bed ridiculously early. I’m pretty certain there’s a spot behind your left ear I haven’t kissed enough.”

  Meghan giggled and let him pull her into the bedroom.

  He undressed her slowly, trailing his fingers over her skin, her neck, shoulders, the delicate underside of her arms, her palms and fingertips. It felt new, caressing the woman he wanted for the rest of his life. In the past, he’d allowed his family’s assumptions to influence how serious he thought a relationship was. It would be nice to introduce Meghan to them, this time with the confidence of his intentions.

  She wiggled a little as he started—slowly—to undo her belt. “Do I get to play too?”

  “Of course. You can kiss me.” He leaned in to capture her mouth. Her arms, bare and cool, curved around his shoulders, one hand cupping the back of his head.

  Meghan had a way of distracting him, he discovered. Before he knew how it happened, they were naked and rolling around on top of the hotel’s turned-down bedding. She’d learned how to touch him, rubbing the precise spot that made him crazy. His only defense was to use his lips and tongue on the spot behind her left ear. Drove her wild.

  Within minutes, they’d ratcheted up the tension past the point they could sustain at a simmer. Dan grabbed a condom, rolled it on, and eased inside her. Like coming home, being warm and safe and happy—at least for a second, then the driving desire took over and he had to pull back. He needed to make sure Meghan was with him, heading toward a climax of her own.

  He murmured little things by her ear, just to hear her “Mmm-hmm,” growled low in her throat. She thrust up at him on each stroke, her hands all over his ass, making sure they both got what they needed. Striving, even in sex, to be the best.

  God he loved this woman.

  Chapter Seventeen

  What Meghan wanted to do was replay their sex-in-the-shower scene from that morning. Instead, she reviewed her notes as Dan drove them to Greg Agnarsson’s house.

  They called a professional services company in Cleveland to come that afternoon and collect all the documents and audio tapes from the garage. Dan drew up an agreement that made it clear Greg retained all rights to the materials being copied.

  He handed the agreement, in duplicate, to Greg. “This will protect you until you have counsel of your own.”

  The engineer shook his head as he signed his name. “I don’t get it. You guys have explained everything. I trust you. I have a pretty good bullshit detector and you’re not setting it off. So what’s the big deal here?”

  Meghan looked up from the inventory she was making on her laptop. “Remember, we already represent ProCell. Your documents help our client. You don’t have to help us or ProCell so you shouldn’t give us anything without someone protecting your interests. We might be able to represent you in your dealings with the plaintiffs in the class action suit or with the Feds, but who helps you in your dealings with us? See?”

  Greg rubbed at his nose. “Yeah, I guess I see what you’re saying. Still, it seems like overkill.”

  “Unfortunately,” Dan said, “judges like overkill. They like knowing that all the parties to an action—and all the bombshell witnesses—were protected by counsel.”

  “Yeah, it cuts down on the appeals,” Meghan added.

  Greg signed the documents. “Okay. I trust you guys because you tell me I can’t trust you. Makes perfect sense.” He walked back into the house while Meghan and Dan laughed.

  “The law’s an ass.” Dan said. “That’s a quote. Should I look it up and find it for Greg?”

  “We’ll get him a T-shirt that says that.”

  Dan pointed at her. “Good idea. Of course, we’d have to get his lawyer’s permission to give it to him.”

  Meghan went back to her inventory. “Very funny.”

  “Did you talk to him about coming to Philadelphia?”

  “He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no. What did Wally say?”

  “He’s got some names for us.” Dan looked around the garage. “I’ll be less worried when we’ve gotten these documents out the door, but still, I just want this case out of our and Greg’s hands.”

  Meghan sent some documents to print. As she waited for the paper to spit out, she asked. “Have you told Lou Trioli about Greg?”

  “Not yet. Excess of caution, perhaps. We’ve entered our appearance in the class action suit, so we should have time to horse-trade with plaintiffs’ counsel.”

  Meghan tamped the first set of pages, then stapled the corner. “Will you let me sit in on that conversation?”

  Dan came over to help her with the printouts of the inventory. “Of course. If we manage to save ProCell millions in legal fees, not to mention the need to announce the litigation to their shareholders, you’ll get the credit both inside the firm and outside.”

  “Great. Another reason for Darlene to hate me. And Vicky.”

  “Yeah, what’s Vicky’s beef with you? I’d say it was somehow about me, only that would be absurd. I gather she was pissed off with you before I even arrived.” Dan handed over the last copy of the inventory, then leaned his shoulder against the wall.

  Meghan tucked some hair behind her ear. She rolled her eyes. “Georgia said something nice about me at a Complex Lit meeting, how I was going to be a great asset, that kind of thing.”

  “I met Georgia at a couple of Bar Association events. She didn’t suffer fools with any sort of grace.”

  “And she didn’t praise the team very often. More of a tough-love motivator. I think Vicky had a lot invested in doing well on the team. She’s worried the economy will make her too expensive to keep on. Vicky’s competing with lower-level associates as well as support staff. I could be extra profitable for the firm because they pay me so little, relative to my education.”

  He shook his head. “This is insane. You’re the
smartest in your class at a top-ten law school. What the hell is wrong with this picture?”

  “I’m just grateful I have a job that’s interesting.”

  Dan snorted. “Gratitude—the gateway to exploitation.”

  Meghan grinned at his disgust. “Ah, but I get to work with you. That’s an excellent perk of the job,” she purred.

  After the Ingersoll Legal Services van pulled away from the driveway, Meghan watched Dan quietly speak to Greg while she loaded their laptops and briefcases into the rental car. It was a hot afternoon, the kind that leads to thunderstorms. She glanced at the sky over the neighboring roofs. Definitely rain later. Maybe that would cool things off.

  Dan rejoined her at the car. “He won’t come. He says he’s safe enough here. He’ll let us know if anyone stops by or calls, or if anything odd happens.”

  Meghan looked at the front door, where Greg waited. “So we’re done here?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll say goodbye to him, then.”

  Greg seemed sad to see them go.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take a little vacation?” Meghan asked him. “Philadelphia in August—how could anyone resist that?”

  His smile was a sad little effort. “I don’t do well away from home.”

  “I know how that feels. Well, I’ll keep in touch, if that would be okay?”

  His smile widened. “I’d like that.”

  They hugged, then Meghan reluctantly let him go. She returned to the car.

  “Tessa has booked us on an eight o’clock flight,” Dan said.

  While Dan reversed down the driveway, Meghan watched Greg go back into his house. “I think he’s agoraphobic,” she said.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Where’s his car?” she asked.

  Dan frowned as he made the rapid-fire turns needed to leave the subdivision. “In the shop?”

  “Really? There are no oil stains on the driveway, and you can see he doesn’t keep his car in the garage. And one of the bedrooms is filled with empty boxes from online stores.”

  “You didn’t snoop?” Dan laughed, as though the image of Meghan poking around in Greg Agnarsson’s medicine chest was absurd.

  “The door was open and I had to pass that room to get to the bathroom. I’m surprised you didn’t see it. Or maybe it’s just that I recognize the species.”

  “You’re not agoraphobic, are you?”

  Meghan didn’t answer for a long time. They were driving to the airport, speeding along the interstate while traffic heading west to Elyria moved more slowly. “No. I’m not agoraphobic. But I know what a troubled mind is like.”

  She switched on the radio, turning the knob until she got the national news.

  Dan threw her a glance, but she ignored it. She didn’t talk about her mother with anyone. Not even Dan. Especially not Dan.

  Kassie was waiting for Meghan when she got home from Ohio.

  “Hey, do you watch The Fishbowl?”

  Meghan had just wheeled her suitcase off the 1930s-era elevator. “Excuse me?”

  “Reality TV? On three nights a week? Anyway, I love that show, and something crazy’s going on with Lissa, the South Philly bartender. Want to watch with me?”

  “Uh, okay.” Meghan had no idea what Kassie was talking about. “What’s The Fishbowl?”

  “Oh, it’s so good. They put these people together in this house and make them compete for a huge prize. The Fish—those are the contestants—have to try to be the Shark for the week, because the Shark gets to put two other Fish on the hook, and one of them gets fished out.”

  Meghan waved her hands. “Okay, I’m hopelessly confused. You’ll explain it to me as we watch, okay?”

  Kassie bounded to her feet. “Yeah, it’s so interesting because Lissa was supposed to be fished out—that’s the bartender from South Philly. I know people who’ve gone to her bar, just to hang out while the show’s on. Anyway, she didn’t get fished out on Thursday’s show. But my cousin says something weird is going on, so I have to watch.”

  She led the way to her apartment, which overlooked the courtyard. Meghan looked around the living room. It was as if a gypsy caravan had exploded. The walls had been draped with lengths of sari fabric, the sofa—which Meghan saw was actually some sort of daybed with a wrought iron headboard and footboard where a sofa would have arms—mounded up with jewel-tone pillows embroidered with bits of mirror. A trunk plastered with destination stickers served as the coffee table.

  Kassie came back from the kitchen with two lite beers. “Well, do you like it? I had so much fun decorating. Mostly thrift store purchases. Then I just go to Pier One Imports and buy everything else.”

  “Thanks.” Meghan accepted the beer. “I was just thinking that your apartment and my apartment average out to two rationally decorated apartments.”

  From Kassie’s answering grin, Meghan could tell she hadn’t offended her.

  Kassie waved at the daybed. “If you move the pillows around, this is actually pretty comfortable.” She flicked on the flat-screen TV. “Oh, good, it’s just starting.”

  It was confusing at first—shots of fish tanks, a sonorous voice-over promising “big drama,” then a shot of five people sitting in a sleek, modernist living room.

  “Hunh. Why’s Kai back in the Fishbowl?” Kassie said. “She got fished out last time.”

  The voice-over mentioned “an explosive revelation involving Lissa not being what she seemed.”

  Suddenly, Meghan pointed at the TV. “That’s a classmate of mine. At law school.”

  Kassie hit the pause button on the remote, freezing the scene just as Libby Pembroke’s face was reacting to something someone had said. She was in close-up, her eyes half-closed and mouth open.

  “No, that’s Lissa. She’s a bartender at a bar over by the river. The Cork something, I think.”

  Meghan squinted at the TV. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s Libby. Do people lie on this show?”

  Kassie shrugged. “All the time. It’s reality TV, so they behave like asses most of the time. But lie about their names? I wouldn’t have thought so.” She hit Play.

  The deep-voiced narration explained, “On last Thursday’s show Kai was fished out. Afterwards, when the cameras were off, Lissa—the bartender from Philadelphia—confessed that she’s actually a student at the prestigious Benjamin Franklin School of Law. She had taken the place of her twin, Lissa, who currently lives in Alaska. We’ll have both twins here for a special interview…after the commercial break.”

  “Holy shit,” Kassie said, muting the television. “And you know her? Why would a law student say she was a bartender?”

  Meghan was as confused as Kassie. “I have no idea. Libby is the next to last person anyone at school would expect to find on reality TV.”

  “Who’s the least likely?”

  “Me.” Meghan grinned. “You have to understand. Libby’s almost as quiet and focused in school as I was. They called me ‘The Ghost’ because I was virtually invisible in class.”

  “Cool.” Kassie tilted her beer bottle in salute. “So how does a quiet law student end up on The Fishbowl?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t even know she was thinking about it. Last I heard, she had found a replacement job in L.A.”

  “Replacement?”

  “Her summer associate job fell through when the firm dissolved. I think we talked about it, after—” After the moot court final, when Dan was the judge and had chatted with them, only Libby had wandered off, leaving Dan to talk to her alone. That had been more nerve-wracking than the moot court final. And more exhilarating, too. Had she been attracted to him even then? God, how embarrassing.

  Kassie started the show again. They’d cut to a set with a couple of chairs on one side and some actor type on the other. Through a window behind the two chairs, they could see a ginormous fish-tank-shaped house. Two women walked over and sat down. They looked absolutely the same—same clothes, same hair, same fac
e. Libby in stereo.

  “Wow. Did you know she had a twin?” Kassie asked.

  Meghan lifted her hands, palms up. “I had no idea. I didn’t socialize much in school. As far as I know, Libby wasn’t dating or anything. I guess she might have talked to other people about her sister. We aren’t exactly friends, we just know each other from Law Review.”

  Back to the show. Meghan found the twins fascinating. Their voices were different, and it was easy to see that Lissa was more vivacious.

  Kassie said, “Look—they even laugh the same way.”

  “Synchronized laughter—the next Olympic sport,” Meghan deadpanned.

  “Ooh, I like it. An entire team of athletes rolling on the floor in perfect rhythm.”

  Meghan cracked up at the thought. “Can you imagine the sequined clown costumes?”

  “Yes! And they’d have to honk each other’s noses in unison.”

  Meghan looked over at Kassie, who held a hand over her mouth as she giggled. How could such a vibrant woman have lived next door all this time and Meghan never noticed her? Kassie was so pretty and friendly. You’d have to be blind to miss her. On the other hand, blind wasn’t exactly a stretch for Meghan.

  Kassie had to explain who the other Fish were so Meghan could understand what they were talking about. One of the guys—Denny? Dylan? something like that—was quite profane talking about Libby. Meghan smiled, but the whole thing was making her think about how school would be starting in a couple of weeks, and she wouldn’t be there.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Kassie looked alarmed, and not at the muted commercial for car insurance.

  “What? Oh.” Meghan realized there were tear tracks on her cheeks, not entirely from laughing. “I’m going to miss school, that’s all.”

  “Why can’t you go back in the fall?”

  “I owe too much money,” Meghan said. She stood up. “Thanks for the beer, and the TV. I wouldn’t have seen that episode if it hadn’t been for you.”

  “But I made you sad.” Kassie made a clown-face frown.

  On impulse, Meghan gave her a hug. “No. Not sad. You cheered me up so much. You have no idea.” Somehow Meghan understood she wouldn’t have cried if she hadn’t been laughing just minutes before. It was like the laughter had melted the block of ice she’d been hiding in. She didn’t think she could explain it to Kassie, though.