“Damn, it’s cold here,” her father said in greeting as he squeezed her tight. When he released her, he reached to shake Weston’s hand. “Why on earth would people want to live here?”
“I got a great job here, remember?” she said, pulling her jacket tighter. It had snowed again that morning, but it had stopped.
“And in five years you couldn’t find someplace warmer?”
“It’s a great company. Lots of benefits.”
“Like this trip to Jamaica?” her father asked, his eyes flitting from her to Wes. Was that suspicion?
“Yeah. It’s going to be great.” Warm weather and rum punch. She couldn’t wait. Not to mention unlimited access to their next client.
“I’ll take that.” Wes reached for her father’s suitcase, but her dad tugged it away and said, “I can get it myself. I’m not old.”
“Right. I wasn’t trying to say you were.”
“Be nice, Daddy.”
“I’m always nice.”
Sure he was. Always.
He got in the car without another word, and Jamie relaxed. If her father had any suspicions about them, he would have already started questioning them. The fact that he was sitting in the back seat, staring out the window quietly, meant she and Wes had convinced him.
They just had to keep it up for a few more days.
* * * *
“This is a nice place,” Mr. Witmer said as he rolled his suitcase into Wes’s apartment. “What’s the rent on a place like this?”
Wes cringed, not wanting to get into it. Thankfully Jamie jumped in before Wes was obligated to answer.
“Dad, come see the harbor.”
“Hmm. You’re not as close to the water as I am,” Mr. Witmer noted.
No, but Wes had two bathrooms. He didn’t say that.
“I was going to cook dinner—” Jamie began.
“Would it be okay if we went to that Greek restaurant we went to the last time I was up here?”
“Sure. Let me go change.” Jamie left and Wes snorted.
“Quick thinking,” Wes joked.
“My stomach is already touchy from the flight. The last thing I need is Jamie’s cooking.”
“She’s getting better. I’ve been giving her tips,” Wes said.
“Bless you.” The man patted him on the shoulder, and Wes felt a wave of real affection.
“I’m ready,” Jamie said as she returned to the living room. Mr. Witmer was studying the mantel, where they’d placed a very convincing photo of the two of them in love.
Wes held back a moment. “Did you want me to come along?” he asked.
Jamie looked confused. “Why wouldn’t you come with us?”
“I wasn’t sure if maybe your father wanted to visit with you.”
“He does want to visit me. But visiting me means visiting you too. We’re married, we’re a package deal.”
Wes turned to her father to get his take on the plan.
He shrugged and nodded. “The girl has spoken, Wes. Let’s go get some grub. I’m starving.”
Dinner was so much fun, Wes forgot Mr. Witmer and Jamie weren’t his real family. He felt like he belonged in their little group now. No longer The Husband, but a son-in-law.
Her father didn’t make as many snide comments. And he didn’t complain about how they’d gotten married without telling him. Apparently Wes had redeemed himself with Wedding Part Deux.
“Jamie told me your father died a few years ago,” Mr. Witmer said when Jamie had gone to wash her hands.
“Yeah.”
“She said she never met him. She said you don’t talk about him very much.”
Wes wasn’t sure how he felt to find out Jamie and her father were talking about him. “I wasn’t very close with my father. He wasn’t who I thought he was, I guess.”
Mr. Witmer nodded as if he understood something that had been bothering him for years. “I remember the day I realized my father was just a man. He was a good man, but he was still just a man.”
“My father wasn’t a good man.” Wes let out a breath; if his father-in-law wanted to chat things out, Wes was going to take him up on it. “I know something about him. I was going to confront him about it when I’d calmed down, but I never got the chance. He died before I could tell him how disappointed I was. No one else knows.”
“You’ve been carrying it around all this time?”
Wes nodded, and Mr. Witmer let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That can’t be easy.”
Wes was surprised by how the man’s sympathy eased some of the discomfort.
“He cheated on your mama?” he asked.
Wes’s head shot up in surprise. “How did you know that?”
The man shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve been trained to read people. I have to say, I’m glad it bothers you. It means you’d never stray.”
“Never.” He’d never cheat on Jamie, and their marriage wasn’t even real. How ridiculous was that?
“Parents are supposed to guide us and teach us how to be good people. But sometimes they get it wrong and the way they teach us is by showing us what we don’t want to become. Jamie was only six when I went to get her from her mother’s house. Or shack, rather. I know she remembers some things, but she’s never talked about it much. She’s never touched drugs. She’s seen what it does. I never had to worry about that.”
Weston agreed as Jamie came back to the table, all light and smiles. He hadn’t realized they had that in common. They both moved through their lives with a little piece of themselves missing.
* * * *
Jamie felt as if she’d interrupted some deep conversation when she returned to the table, but both men smiled at her before they nearly launched themselves at the poor waitress to get the check first.
Wes, ever the victor at the check grab, prevailed despite the grumblings of her father.
It was too cold to walk around or show her dad the sights in the dark, so they returned to the apartment.
She snuggled on the sofa between her two favorite guys and fell asleep before the first commercial. It wasn’t a deep sleep. A few times she was brought back to the surface of consciousness when her father or Wes spoke.
It was nice to hear them talking to one another like normal people. Her father had accepted Wes. All those men she’d dated had never had a chance with her father’s strict expectations. But Wes had won him over.
She woke when she felt two strong arms slide under her and lift her off the sofa. The fear of falling caused her to reach out and hold on. When her eyes opened she was clinging to Wes’s neck.
“I’ve got ya. Shh.”
Allowing her head to rest on his shoulder, she enjoyed the ride to the bedroom. Her father pulled back the covers as Wes placed her on the bed and stepped back so her dad could tuck her in.
“Night, Daddy.”
“Night, princess. Sweet dreams.”
At her father’s request she did have sweet dreams.
She dreamt a large, warm man had wrapped her in his arms to keep her safe. When she woke the next time, it was almost two a.m. and Wes’s arm was draped across her hip, her back to his chest. She felt the steady thump of his heart against her shoulder blade.
With a tiny, happy sound she drifted off to sleep again.
The next morning, she and Wes made breakfast together. He’d been right. It was easier if she poured the water into the mix and stirred it together rather than dropping the mix into the water. Wes took care of stirring, so there were no lumps.
Her father sat at the table, seeming to enjoy himself as she and Wes laughed and teased one another.
The day was spent doing nothing, despite her many attempts to come up with something for them to do. Her father was content to just sit and talk with them.
“I don’t need to p
lay the tourist. I came up here to see you. There’s no reason to go out in the cold when we can sit right here where it’s warm.” He nodded toward the propane fireplace in Wes’s living room. She needed to get one for her place. Fire at the flip of a switch is wonderful.
Her father fell asleep on the sofa around eleven. And then again after lunch.
“I don’t like this,” she whispered to Wes while biting her thumbnail. He instinctually batted her hand out of her mouth.
“He’s napping.”
“It’s this whole visit. We just saw him. Why would he need to see me again so soon?”
“I’m guessing he wanted to make sure I didn’t have you chained in my basement.”
“Do you think?”
“I think you’re worrying about something that you don’t need to worry about. Your father would have told you if he was sick. No one would keep something that serious from their only child.”
She let out a breath and nodded. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”
“Of course you are,” Wes teased. For a second it looked like he might reach out to hug her, but he changed course and moved for the refrigerator.
That was too bad. She really could have used a hug.
* * * *
Mr. Witmer was watching a ball game and Jamie was making lasagna for dinner. Wes decided to give them a little space. As nice as it felt to have a family, they weren’t his real family. He didn’t want to ruin Jamie’s visit with her dad.
Wes wasn’t sure what they normally did when they were together, but he didn’t want to hinder them in any way.
“I’m going to run to the office. I need to pick up the file for the Lander job. I’ll check our mail and be back in time for dinner.” Wes didn’t normally work on Saturday nights, but they’d left early the day before and he was still trying to catch up from being off for their honeymoon.
“Okay. Maybe you could bring home pie for dessert,” Jamie suggested.
He leaned down to kiss her goodbye, because her father would expect it. He could feel her father watching them, so he held it just a little longer to make it convincing.
“Would you mind if I rode along with you?” Mr. Witmer asked, getting up from the sofa. “I’d like to see your office and stretch my legs.”
“Uh, sure. There’s not much to see, but you’re welcome to come along.”
Something was up. If the man suggested driving by the docks he would ditch the car and make a run for it.
Wes couldn’t help but look over his shoulder as they moved through the parking garage. He expected a black van to squeal up at any moment and four men to jump out to throw a hood over his face.
Surely someone with Christopher Witmer’s background would know where to dispose of a body where it would never be found. Would he use pigs? Wes had read once that pigs eat everything but the skull and hipbone. God, he didn’t want to be eaten by pigs.
“Would you calm down? I can feel the tension coming off you like a space heater.”
“I’m just wondering why you offered to come along. We don’t hang out together. You hate me because I married your daughter.”
“I don’t hate you.”
Wes raised his brows.
“Like I did at first,” the man added with a smirk.
Were they joking together like friends? Wes smiled, but glanced over his shoulder again. This would be the perfect time for the van to pull up.
With no van in sight, they got in Wes’s car and headed for the office.
“So have you eaten Jamie’s lasagna?” Mr. Witmer asked.
“Yes.”
“And lived to tell the tale.”
“It wasn’t that bad. Better than my mother’s.”
“Jamie tells me she hasn’t met your mother yet.”
“We’re not close.”
“You weren’t close with your father, and you’re not close to your mother.”
There was no judgment in his tone, but Wes let out a sigh. “That’s right.”
“Still, I know from experience it’s not fun to find out your kid got married and didn’t tell you.”
“Do you want to tell me the real reason you wanted to be alone with me?” Weston asked, wanting to get to it.
“Yeah, sure.” He frowned. “The cancer’s back.”
“You lied when we were down there?” Wes found a spot and pulled over.
“I didn’t lie exactly. I answered all her questions truthfully. It’s not my fault she didn’t ask direct questions.”
“She asked if your checkup went well.”
“It did go well. I got there on time. I didn’t have to wait too long to go back. The nurse who took my blood pressure had a nice smile.”
“You know that wasn’t what she meant.”
“Yeah, well, for years I told her her Christmas presents came from Santa. Parents lie to their kids for their own good all the time. It’s one of the only perks.”
“Are you going to be all right?” This was the more important issue. Jamie would be able to forgive the man if he was around to forgive.
“Sure. I kicked its ass the last time and I wasn’t prepared. This time I know what will happen. I’m ready.”
Wes didn’t think anyone was ever ready for such a diagnosis, but he hoped Mr. Witmer wasn’t lying to him too.
“I start chemo next week, which is why I wanted to see her this week. While I still look okay.”
Wes pulled out on the road and drove to the office in silence. His brain was flitting through hundreds of thoughts all at one time, none of which he could verbalize. He shut off the engine and turned to look at his father-in-law.
Mr. Witmer looked pale and tired. It was no wonder Jamie was worried. She would know what he always looked like. Why had Wes convinced her not to worry? He felt like he was an accessory to the lie.
“We can cancel the trip to Jamaica and come down next week.”
Jamie’s dad was already shaking his head. He took a deep breath and then pointed to Weston seriously. “I appreciate the offer, but I won’t have my daughter drop everything up here, or miss her trip so she can come hold my hand. You can’t tell her.”
“You’re putting me in a really crappy position. I want to respect your wishes, but I won’t lie to my wife.” He might not know much about being married, but he knew firsthand that lying was not acceptable.
Mr. Witmer looked taken aback for a moment and then laughed. “I didn’t even consider that. Huh.” He nodded and then patted Weston on the shoulder. “That’s good. I don’t want you to lie to her either. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I just wanted to have some time with her. Without her worrying about me. Just us. Normal, you know?”
Ah, hell. “Fine. I’ll wait to tell her after you leave if you give me your word you will keep us informed from here on out. I couldn’t live with myself if something unexpected happened and she missed saying goodbye. Don’t let that happen, I beg you.” Wes knew how difficult it was to live with something like that. With words that were unsaid.
Mr. Witmer nodded slowly. “Okay. That’s how we’ll play it. I’ll have these last few days before she finds out.”
“No. Don’t say ‘last few days.’ That freaks me out.”
“It’s not my last few days. It’s the last few days before Jamie goes from being my daughter to being a walking anxiety attack. I just hate to see her so worried. The last time it caused me more pain than the fucking cancer.”
“Maybe I can help her deal with this somehow. So she doesn’t make it harder for you. You have enough to do.” A wave of panic went through him. “Please don’t die. God, I don’t know how I would get her through something like that.”
“I’m not going to die.” He sniffed. “Well, someday I am. But I’ll be damned if I let cancer get me.”
“That’s the spirit.”
>
The man was horribly intimidating. Death was probably afraid of him.
“If you don’t mind, I have another stop to make before we go home,” Wes said.
“I’m sure the lasagna will keep.”
Wes took the exit for the mall and found a parking spot as close to the door as possible. He was certain Mr. Witmer wouldn’t appreciate it if Wes offered to drop him off at the door. The man wouldn’t want to be thought of as weak. Which seemed ridiculous, but Wes would honor him by not fussing. Jamie would do enough of that for both of them when she found out.
Inside the upscale store he followed the signs to the personal shopper pickup area. The area was set up like a hotel lobby, with a coffeepot and warm cookies in a basket.
A well-dressed woman in a glass office came out to greet them. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. My name is Weston Archer. I asked to see a collection of suitcases.”
“Certainly. Please come with me. I have them set aside.”
Mr. Witmer’s eyebrows rose in surprise as they entered the next room where ten suitcases were lined up. All of them purple—Jamie’s favorite color.
“Per your request they are arranged by quality. There are only two options missing from the selection; both are not being recommended due to poor customer reviews and returns. I could certainly add them if you wish.”
“This is a gift for my wife. I don’t want anything junky.”
“Then I would suggest any of these three pieces. I’ve printed out a list of options for each.” She handed over the paperwork and Wes flipped through them, scanning the features to see if any of them lacked something Jamie should have. He needn’t have looked, because the woman went over the differences between them.
“I like this one with the circle pattern. I think Jamie would like it and it would be easy to spot in baggage claim.”
“Excellent choice, sir. It’s a six-piece set, complete with a toiletry bag.”
“What do you think?” Wes turned to Mr. Witmer.
“I have no idea what to think. The last time I needed a suitcase I walked into Target and picked up the first black one I saw. I’ve had it for twelve years.”
“Your daughter must not have your care for luggage. She nearly busted the wheel off her suitcase and now she practically carries it since it doesn’t roll.”
The Work Wife Page 13
