A Prior Engagement

by Karina Bliss

“Aggravated.”

  Nate didn’t smile. “Lewie, please fetch the med kit out of the car.”

  Giving Lee a sympathetic grin, the teen obeyed.

  “Interesting that you have a med kit handy.” While Lee had been the team’s specialist paramedic, all SAS combatants cross-trained in one another’s skill set, so the mission didn’t abort if the specialist was taken out.

  “It’s for Heaven Sent.” The charter boat. “But to be clear, either I check out your vitals or we head to the hospital. Your choice.”

  “If you recall,” Lee said evenly, “I’ve been surviving alone for the past nineteen months without help—”

  “And you’ve forgotten how to let people care for you. Got that. I’m not here to ease your mind, I’m here to ease mine. And Jules’s.”

  “Jules can take care of herself.”

  “Yeah?” Nate gestured to the open closet where Jules’s clothes hung neatly. “Is that why she’s still sleeping in the spare room?”

  Double shit. And he couldn’t use the excuse that he wasn’t up to sex, not if he wanted to avoid the emergency room. “She and I have some things to work out.”

  “Mate, if you need to talk...”

  “I’m good.” This was between Jules and him. How his friends and family reacted to the truth came later. He felt a pang of disquiet on Jules’s behalf but quelled it immediately. She’d brought this on herself.

  This was his last night in Whangarei. After the weekend he figured he’d stay with Ross in Auckland for a few days while he found a rental and decided what the hell he wanted to do.

  Even short-term, he couldn’t live with his siblings. Their solicitude would drive him crazy.

  “It took Claire coming to L.A. and dragging me home to deal with her family trust before I confronted the emotional fallout from the ambush.” As he spoke, Nate removed half the weight plates from the barbell. “I do know something of what you’re feeling.”

  I doubt that. Lee remained silent.

  Nate retightened the collar around the remaining plates. “You want to be the guy you were before the ambush.”

  And he would be. Lying down on the weight bench, Lee lifted the adjusted bar. “These are pussy weights,” he complained.

  “You’re hoping,” Nate continued quietly, “that if you shove all the pain aside long enough, it will disappear.”

  “Five...six...seven... I’m not even breathing hard.”

  “Maybe I can help you avoid the traps I fell into.”

  “Ten, eleven, twelve... Seriously, Nate.” Lee ignored the trembling in his biceps. “I’m not getting a workout with this.”

  Impassively Nate helped him guide the bar into its holder. “Fine, have it your way. For now.”

  Lee greeted Lewis’s return with relief. “Et tu, Brute?”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re ganging up on me, too?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Just following orders?”

  Nate came to the kid’s rescue. “Quit stalling, Lee, and sit up.”

  Reluctantly he complied. Nate stuck an electronic thermometer in his ear, waited. “Surprise, surprise. You have a temperature.”

  “I’ve been lifting weights.”

  “Pussy weights,” Nate reminded him.

  Grabbing the thermometer, Lee checked the reading. “It’s trending way down from what it was.”

  “Uh-huh.” Nate took his pulse while Lee concentrated on lowering it.

  “Remember I’ve been exercising.”

  “And said it didn’t raise your heart rate... As I expected, a tad high.”

  “Because your bedside manner’s scaring me, Dr. Jekyll.”

  Lewis laughed.

  “Don’t encourage him, Lewie.” Nate pulled out a blood pressure meter.

  “You’re kidding, you carry a sphygmomanometer? Lewis, ten bucks if you can spell that.”

  Nate wound the cuff round his upper left arm and started inflating it.

  “S...p...i—” Lewis began.

  “Wrong...ouch...it’s pinching,” Lee complained. “Did I teach you nothing?”

  Ignoring him, Nate used a stethoscope to listen to the brachial artery as he released the pressure. “Elevated but not drastically. You pass...but only because I can keep an eye on you over the weekend.”

  Lee groaned. “Can we eat now, Nurse Ratchet?”

  * * *

  WATCHING LEE WEAVE his old magic through dinner, charming Claire and Lewis with his self-deprecating humor, trading insults with Nate, Jules wondered numbly if anyone else realized how much he was pretending.

  Across the table Claire gestured to Jules’s plate. “You’ve barely touched your dessert.”

  “Guess I ate too much of the first course.” Smiling, Jules rubbed her stomach and the diamond snagged on her top, a fitted short-sleeved black angora.

  Lee wasn’t the only one putting on an act tonight. She released the stone carefully, grimacing at the tiny rent in the wool. This damn ring had derailed her life.

  No wonder Gollum had gone insane.

  Jules returned her attention to Lee as he and Lewis talked Nate and Claire into doing the dishes. Wearing himself out pretending to be normal. She recognized this journey; she’d made it. So had all of those affected by the ambush. But unlike Nate, she accepted that Lee was too stubborn, too independent, to be guided by their experiences.

  Was he really well enough to hear the truth? No, she couldn’t waver now. Even if her stomach dropped every time she anticipated her pending confession.

  Restlessly, Jules stood. “Who’s for coffee? Lewis, I can make you a hot chocolate...?” Taking orders, she cleared the dessert plates and made drinks, oblivious to the conversation behind her.

  A burst of laughter coincided with her return to the table. “What did I miss?”

  Lewis nudged Lee’s elbow. “Tell Jules the goat story. It’s really funny,” the teen assured her.

  Dispensing drinks, Jules said politely, “I’d love to hear it.”

  “Last tour, we were plagued by a herd of goats in the village where we were stationed,” Lee said. “They ate everything. I still can’t understand how one managed to get my underwear. I swear I pegged them six feet off the ground.”

  Conscious of Lewis’s expectant gaze, Jules contrived a chuckle as she handed him a hot chocolate. Then she thought...wait a minute. Something about this story didn’t quite gel.

  “You know what I think happened?” Nate cupped his mug. “It climbed on the roof and craned its scrawny neck—”

  “Last tour,” Jules interrupted. “Last last tour?”

  “Yeah,” said Nate, puzzled.

  “But what about Lee’s—”

  “I’ll fill you in later,” her fiancé said evenly.

  Amnesia. She stared at him.

  Lee broke eye contact, pushed back his chair. “I’ll make a start on dishes.”

  Jules sat down. She could be wrong. She could be. But if it was true, if Lee’s amnesia was a lie— She stopped reeling and settled into a state of unholy calm. “Sugar anyone?”

  It was probably better not to have witnesses.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHE KNEW. THE CONVICTION grew in Lee over the next half hour. Outwardly Jules continued to play relaxed hostess: “No, leave the dishes. It’s a school night and you don’t want to be home too late.”

  But he could feel the tension building in her, like a low-pressure system
before a storm.

  He wanted closure—that tidy word that assumed tragedy could be neatly bookended. But after last night, cutting her out of his life would be easier than having to confront his feelings every time he saw her.

  “So I’ll see you tomorrow,” Nate said as he left. “Pick you up around nine.”

  “Have a good weekend.” Claire kissed his cheek. Did she know about Jules’s deception? Surreptitiously, Lee studied his fiancée’s best friend. Except if Claire knew, then Nate would, too. Immediately, Lee dismissed the suspicion. His army buddies would never be party to such a conspiracy.

  “See you, Lewis. Next time we’ll get some competition happening.”

  Because right now wasn’t going to be fun at all.

  The door finally shut behind their guests, Jules turned and leaned against it, her social smile fading. Her chest rose in a sharp breath. “Please tell me you haven’t been faking amnesia.”

  Lee folded his arms. “You’ve been masquerading as my fiancée for close to two years,” he said quietly. “I deserved a confession.”

  “So everything since your release—the sweet talk, the proposal...” her palms flattened against the door “...last night. All of it was to punish me?”

  “I needed time,” he said defensively, brusquely, “to find out what game you were—”

  “Game!” The expression in her eyes was harder than his diamond on her finger. “You think mourning you was a game?” she demanded furiously. “That I’ve been withholding the truth for giggles?”

  He set his jaw. “You lied to my family and friends, you accepted my inheritance. I don’t know what the hell’s going on.”

  “You should have asked me!”

  “Don’t turn this on me—the pretending started with you. I gave you every opportunity to come clean in our first phone call.”

  Impatiently she pushed away from the door. “I was protecting you until you found your feet.” Her brown eyes narrowed. “Or have you been scamming me about the PTSD, too?”

  Lee hesitated, unwilling to acknowledge that he had a problem, even to himself.

  She laughed wildly. “So you can’t even claim temporary insanity.”

  “I don’t need an excuse,” he flung back. “You do.”

  In the taut silence they stared at each other. Then she swallowed. “I don’t have one.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “that’s what I thought.”

  She lifted her chin. “I’m not denying culpability for accepting your ring. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done and I’m sorry. But I don’t regret keeping the truth from your friends and family. They were so raw in their grief and this gave them hope.” Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat and scowled. “And I was reeling, too.”

  “You’re forgetting,” he said, letting his bitterness show, “I remember everything.”

  “You may not have amnesia but you’re definitely suffering from selective memory.” Pushing past him, Jules went into the living room.

  “‘Saying yes now,’” he quoted, following her, “‘would be succumbing to emotional blackmail.’” Deliberately, he sprawled on the couch opposite Jules, who sat in the armchair as straight backed as a judge. “Oh, I got the message loud and clear,” he added. “You didn’t love me enough to say yes.”

  “And you didn’t love me enough to wait until I was ready, she retorted. “My nerves were already on edge with you leaving for Afghanistan, plus you’d already agreed we could take things slowly. Suddenly you’re trying to dazzle me with this rock.”

  She leaned forward to wave it in front of his nose.

  “The rock was to set your mind at rest,” he snapped, no longer lounging. “I thought you only suggested a go-slow because you were worried my feelings wouldn’t last a six-month separation. Turned out it was your feelings you had doubts about.”

  “All I said was that we didn’t know each other enough to make a commitment.”

  “You were a talking Dear John letter—in full goddamned retreat.”

  Her eyes flashed. “Because I couldn’t share your gung-ho romanticism after dating six weeks? I wasn’t a challenge to be conquered like some Boys’ Own Adventure—we were talking marriage, a commitment for the rest of our lives. Why did wanting more time have to be such a big deal?”

  “Gee, I don’t know.” Shoving to his feet, he glared down at her. “Because I invested ten thousand dollars in a diamond maybe? Got down on bended knee maybe? Got kicked to the curb by the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with?”

  She rose, too. “I may have rejected your proposal but you were the one who walked away. Ironic that the forever you were so desperate to start couldn’t survive our first fight!”

  “Proposing was a very big deal for me and you shot me down in flames,” he said heatedly. “It took a while to process that.”

  “Claire heard from Steve twice over the next two weeks and you left me hanging. That’s not processing, that’s punishing.”

  “I hadn’t told the guys what happened and we didn’t have privacy when we made phone calls. I couldn’t risk emotional stuff messing with my head through a mission, it was too dangerous.” And he’d been terrified she’d tell him they were done.

  When he was first captured, he’d even had a fleeting sense of satisfaction...like some angsty adolescent fantasy. Ha, I went and died, that’ll teach you. Her rejection had reduced him to that level of pathetic.

  He gathered his outrage now and used it as armor. “When I said the commitment drives the prenup not the other way around you called me stupid.”

  “I said the idea was stupid!” she yelled.

  He snorted. “Semantics.”

  “Common sense. I deal with people every day who thought they’d married their soul mate and now want to slap that person with a restraining order. People who deny custodial access out of spite and who hide accounts to prevent a fair division of assets.”

  He resisted the urge to tear out his hair. “I’m not like that.”

  “How could I be sure after six weeks? How could you be sure about me? And don’t tell me you’d take me on faith because nothing you’ve done since you returned suggests any faith whatsoever.”

  What was the point of arguing? The gulf between them was unbridgeable.

  “You talk about good faith,” he said hollowly, sinking to the couch. “Even if I can believe the impulse that caused you to take my ring...you accepted my money after Dad died, knowing you had no right to it. Where the hell is the integrity in that, Jules?”

  She didn’t flinch. “There would be none if I’d accepted it from you.” She reoccupied the armchair with the same judge’s pose. “But I didn’t accept it from you.”

  He needed a few seconds to understand. I thought I’d talked Ian out of it, she’d said when they’d discussed his father’s will.

  “Oh, my God.” People talked about lightbulb moments—Lee felt like a lighthouse had just collapsed on him. “You told Dad the truth.”

  “It seemed the lesser of two evils. It didn’t change our relationship. In fact, Ian remained adamant that had you lived, you’d have come to your senses.” Her gaze narrowed but the lamplight picked up her unshed tears. “So much for that.”

  Lee’s anger evaporated in his relief. “He was right, it wasn’t over.” He’d spent his entire captivity planning how to woo her. He reached for her hand but she leaned back in the chair, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Ian sa
id something that struck a chord with me. That when your mother died he got through his grief by assuming the qualities he loved about her.” He swallowed. She was remorseless in her honesty.

  “I figured I could carry on being burdened by guilt, regrets and self-recrimination. Or I could celebrate your life by adopting what I loved about you—your courage, your adventurousness, your enthusiasm for people.”

  The understanding of what his injured pride had made her suffer suffused Lee with shame. Jules’s motivation since his return had been all about protecting him, and his had been exactly the same. Protecting himself. He hadn’t been ashamed lying naked on a dirt floor being kicked by his captors. But he was ashamed now.

  And he’d just made it bloody easy for her to get over him.

  “I took the money not on your dad’s advice but on yours,” she said. “You said I needed to take more risks.”

  The phone rang. They ignored it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, recognizing the apology came too little, too late.

  Her gaze dropped to the diamond on her left hand. “I accepted the ring when the guys offered it because I was desperate to believe you loved me, even though you walked away. I think part of my desire for a tangible object was because I didn’t believe it.”

  The phone stopped ringing.

  Taking the ring off, Jules turned it over in her fingers, letting the diamond catch the light. “It never suited me,” she said wryly. “I only loved it because it reflected you.” Her lips tightened. “I guess that says it all.”

  She held it out. “Consider us quits.”

  He took it. Because no matter his regrets, she was right. He should have asked for the truth.

  “You know what the irony is?” Jules said, delivering the final blow. “I would probably have said yes two years ago if you’d given us more time.”

  She studied him before asking, “How long would you have tormented me with this amnesia?”

  Lee frowned. “I was going to challenge you tonight.”

  “Should I believe you?”

  “Said the pot to the kettle...” He sighed. “I’ll never lie to you again.”