by Traci Hall
Christian could see Bob weigh his need for alcohol, to keep the buzz going, with getting caught.
Bob picked up his mobile and called his nemesis.
“Officer Tinner, did you take care of getting me my job back yet?” Bob grinned at Christian, eyes alight with triumph. “You did? Well now, that’s nice. You can call off your dogs.”
Christian waited, his pulse thumping at his neck.
“I just love it when the system works for the common man,” Bob informed Christian.
He slid out of the back seat and Christian gunned the engine before the door was closed, getting out of the line of fire. Checking the rearview mirror, he saw Bob spread-eagled on the pavement.
Christian stopped and parked as the gas station was surrounded by fifty police cars. Three units blocked him from going anywhere and an officer in bullet proof gear got out of the driver’s side of the lead car with a weapon drawn.
“Get out of the vehicle. Hands up where we can see them.”
Sinead watched the live news stream of Christian getting out of the car, blood at his neck, his face pale. He held his hands up in the air and didn’t resist when he was tackled to the ground. Crying, she looked at her mom and sister, Collette, and thanked Landon.
They’d sent the wedding goers home with no explanation, the priest, along with Xavier and Paul, handing out miniature lemon cakes as parting gifts.
“I’ve got to get to Christian.” Sinead stood, her legs wobbly.
“I’ll drive,” her mom said.
Fianna wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m going.”
Collette, head high, said, “I can’t believe this. You go to Christian, and I’ll handle things here, with Dad. How the hell did this happen? Call me as soon as you can.” She hugged Sinead hard.
Sinead grabbed her purse and her phone, handing the keys to her CRV to her mom. “Let’s go get him.”
Sinead, still wearing her Vera Wang wedding gown, arrived at the police station where she was told absolutely nothing. As if she was the enemy, or as if Christian had actually been in cahoots with the crazy hijacker.
“Christian was supposed to marry me today,” she informed the man in uniform behind the desk, “not get kidnapped by some crack addict named Bob.”
“Have a seat, miss.” Monotone voice. Just doing his job.
“Miss. Not Mrs. You know why?” Her temper flared and Fianna dragged her back to the plastic seats in the waiting room.
After two hours, Sinead sent her mom and Fianna home with Jerry—a decent guy—because her nerves were stretched thin and making small talk was difficult.
She needed to reserve her strength for Christian. Paul had called in a favor from a lawyer friend and seven hours later, Sinead was allowed to take her man home. One look at Christian’s beloved face and the tears started all over again.
“Christian!” She reached for him, searching his body to make sure he was in one piece. They’d bandaged the cut on his neck but it looked crooked. She’d change it herself once they got home.
He wrapped his arms around her tight. “Thinking of you was all that kept me going.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t get married,” she said as he said, “Maybe we should get married at the courthouse after all.”
She held up her hands as if that would forestall an argument. At this moment she never wanted to think about marriage again. “You know what? I love you and I am so happy that you are alive to be with me. Let’s go home and eat lemon cake. You can tell me exactly what happened.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His jaw was dark with stubble.
“You were on the news,” she said.
“What?” He looked down at her, shadows beneath his dark eyes.
“Yes.” She slipped her hand in his and they took a few steps toward the door. “Where’s the car?”
“The police have it in impound.”
The BMW was his baby. “I’m sorry, honey. I’ll drive us home.”
“I was going to let Bob take the damn thing just to get to you. That’s how much I wanted to marry you today.” He stopped and forced her to look at him. “I love you.”
“It’s after midnight,” she said, softening. “Even if we were to find someone to marry us, the date would be wrong for the things we’d ordered engraved.” She’d been hesitant about that, but he’d been so certain that nothing could go wrong that she’d caved.
“You’re right.” He walked out of the police station, her hand in his. “Let’s go home and eat cake. I’ll tell you about Just Call Me Bob.”
Chapter Seven
In June, Sinead went back on the birth control pill. They didn’t like using condoms and the subject of marriage remained a very sore topic. They’d reached their collective fill of well-meaning questions and suggestions.
They closed the door on the unopened gifts and flat-out refused to discuss babies, weddings or The Incident. Christian traded the BMW in for a silver Mercedes sedan. They’d planned for this to be their year, a magical year, and the Fates had scoffed.
She and Christian went to work, came home, watched Netflix and settled into the pre-wedding routine. “Your sister called,” she said from the living room. “Your dad is in town and Collette is hosting a barbecue on Saturday.”
They hadn’t seen his dad since the last wedding attempt. Everybody had been so damn grateful that Christian hadn’t been killed that trying the wedding again seemed in poor taste.
“Wanna go?” Christian poked his head out of the bathroom in the hallway where he’d been putting away some towels.
“Of course!” They couldn’t hide in their house forever. Besides, this was family. Three months had passed where they’d licked their wounds in private. “I’ll call her back and find out what we can bring.” She walked to the patio with her cellphone. It was time.
“Hello?” Collette answered on the second ring.
“We’d love to come to the barbecue!”
“I’m so glad. That makes twelve, which will be perfect for volleyball in the pool. Bring your suit.”
“Anything else?”
“I’ve got everything under control.”
“I am not surprised.” Collette Sharp made Martha Stewart look like a slacker. “I’ll bring a salad.”
“All right, but you don’t have to. Hey, what are your mom and sister doing?”
“Mom and Jerry are still dating—think they’re taking off to the Keys this weekend. Fianna is seeing someone, but she’s being very hush-hush about it.” No amount of prying had worked.
“Really?” Collette was silent and Sinead imagined that she was running through a list of who she’d seen Fianna with lately. “Hmm. Well, we’ll see you in a few days.”
The quick subject change meant she knew something.
“Tell me,” Sinead said.
“It’s probably nothing,” Collette hedged.
“Agreed.” Fianna didn’t do serious. “Still, who is it?”
“Maybe it could be, well, Xavier.”
“Christian’s best friend?”
“Maybe,” Collette stressed.
“Why would you think that?” Sinead sat up straighter and tried to think of any special times they’d been together other than the wedding stuff.
“They hooked up after the first time you guys were going to, well, anyway, then-”
“Hooked up?” Her sister and Christian’s best pal?
“It was a random wedding thing. No big deal.”
Typical at weddings for the groomsmen and the ladies in the wedding party to co-mingle. Paul was married, which left Christian’s best buddy.
Fianna and Xavier? He was good-looking in a casual, guy-next-door way. Dark blond hair, brown eyes, easy smile. Nothing wow. Her sister usually went with wow. Times a hundred.
Another thought occurred and she crossed her legs at the ankle. “First time?”
Collette sighed. “I was hoping we could move on from this? It feels a little shady.”
“No wa
y! It’s my sister we are talking about here.” She leaned forward, elbow on the table.
“Fine. So after the last wedding fiasco, it happened again. The only reason I knew about it was because your mom and Jerry dropped Fianna back at the church and I was there supervising clean-up,”
“Thanks again.”
“Don’t mention it. Dad and Aline helped. Anyway, I walked out of the kitchen and there they were, attached at the mouth and going at it like-”
“I get it!” She pressed the instant ache between her brows wishing she could forget that visual.
“It’s probably just a wedding thing.”
“Fianna doesn’t usually go back for round two.”
“Well, if you’d finally just get married at the courthouse, then we wouldn’t need to risk a third time.”
“We aren’t talking about weddings. At all. We couldn’t plan another one if we tried. Okay?”
“Sure. I understand. We won’t even allow the topic.”
“Thanks.” Sinead got up and went into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of iced tea. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
They hung up and she went in search of Christian, who was in the office reading something online.
“Busy, hon?”
“Nope. Just scanning the news.” He looked up from the desk. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”
She waited at the threshold, her iced tea in one hand and the phone in the other. “When was the last time you talked to Xavier?”
Christian sat back in the chair and rested his arms on the sides. “I don’t know, a few weeks ago? He wanted to grab a beer after work, but I wasn’t really feeling up to it. We never rescheduled.” He folded his hands together in his lap. “I haven’t really been into the social stuff.”
“Me either.” It had been enough to get through the day.
“Why do you ask?”
“It’s nothing.” There were no rules about her sister and his best buddy. And knowing Fianna it would burn itself out in another month, tops. “Want to go walk on the beach? It’s always cooler with the breeze off the ocean. I’ll buy you a beer at Anglin’s.”
He grinned. “Deal.” Christian checked the time on the computer. “It’s only 7, so we’ve got plenty of daylight left.”
“And so far not a single tropical storm.”
“Just the way we like it. Ocean living.” He took her hand and pulled her in for a kiss.
The quiet touch turned to passion.
“Or maybe we could just stay home,” Christian suggested with a compelling caress of her breast.
“We haven’t been outside all week.”
“Because it’s been hot.”
“True.” She leaned back so he could kiss her neck.
“Tell you what, if you still want to go for a walk afterward, we’ll go. But this time I’ll buy the beer.”
Sinead laughed. “Now we’re talking.”
Christian made good on his promise and bought her a beer by the pier. Going on 9, the sun was setting and Sinead looked relaxed and beautiful with the ocean behind them. They’d gotten a seat outside to enjoy the cool breezes.
A pale draft in her hand, she lifted her glass to his. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you.” They clicked and drank. “I admire your, er, flexibility.”
She blushed.
Christian smiled. “So, did you tell Collette we were coming?”
“Yes. She’s got some pool volleyball planned.”
“That will be fun.”
Collette owned her home outright and had installed a pool last year big enough for the entire family. She claimed to want to entice people over because she loved to entertain. She wasn’t in a hurry for a family of her own. Yet. She said when she was ready for the perfect family, if she couldn’t find one, then she’d buy one.
Practical. Not romantic. Very Collette.
He took Sinead’s left hand, rubbing his thumb over the two carat diamond engagement ring in platinum, thinking of the matching band he had for her as well as the one for him.
He lifted his left hand and waggled the ring-less finger. “Maybe Collette is right and we should just get this done and over with.”
She pulled her hand free and lifted her brow. “Really? What happened to romance and wanting everybody to witness you getting married to your soulmate? Now you just want to get it over with?”
“Sorry! Still a touchy subject for both of us, I guess.”
She exhaled with a humph and looked out over the water.
Christian wanted those things, but he wanted to start his family more. He realized that Sinead was resistant and he’d tried to give her time, but he didn’t want to wait forever before having kids.
Her chin lifted and she sniffed, staring out toward the ocean’s white surf.
“Sinead? Are you crying?”
She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin, not looking at him. “Can you blame me?”
He touched her shoulder, bare in a spaghetti strap sundress. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You did, too.”
“No, I didn’t.” Sort of. “What I meant was that it’s time to move on with what we want in life.”
Sinead snorted.
“I’m hoping it’s still me you want?”
“You are hanging by a very thin thread.” She pinched her fingers together.
“Maybe it’s still not time to talk about this.” Would it ever be the right time?
“I think that would be best.”
Silence hung between them. “Honey,” he started to say. Then he sat back and watched the water. Ebb and flow, in and out. Like breathing. Constant. “Finish your beer,” he said.
“Why?”
He slapped cash for their drinks on the table and took her by the hand. She resisted, so he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, careful to cover her backside as the sundress lifted.
She squealed and the waitress looked concerned.
“Put me down,” Sinead demanded.
“Nope. Not until you’ve got your toes in the sand so you’ll stop being mad at me.”
The waitress relaxed and waved. “See you two later.”
He walked with Sinead down to the beach, sinking into the soft sand as he went. She half-heartedly beat against his back, but just enough so she could say she wasn’t going willingly.
He lowered her down ankle-deep in the surf. “There.”
She crossed her arms in front of her waist. “What?”
“You can’t be mad in the water. It’s a rule.”
“It is not a rule.”
He bent down and flicked water at her.
She sputtered and then her eyes narrowed.
He backed up a few steps but it was too late—she chased him through the waves, using her flip flops to scoop water his way.
At least she was laughing as she splashed him. He turned and caught her to him as water crashed around their legs. She lifted her legs and clasped them around his waist and he danced them along the surf.
“I love you, Sinead.”
“And I love you.”
Chapter Eight
Christian drove the new Mercedes to his sister’s house in a gated community near the Intracoastal. He parked on the street, as the driveway was already full.
Sinead carried the salad and the wine, so he grabbed the six pack of Amstel and the small bouquet of flowers for Collette.
“Don’t forget our swimsuits,” Sinead said, looking very summery in a white floppy hat, a sundress and white sandals. “I put the bag in the trunk. I love the extra space.”
He hated to talk bad about his old car, but after the Bob fiasco, he couldn’t stand the BMW anymore. “Plenty of room for car seats, if we ever get around to having kids.”
She took off her sunglasses and gave him a death stare. “No weddings, no babies, no Bob.”
“Right. We talk about the lovely Florida weather.” He wiped a trickle sweat from his forehead.
“Sarcasm optional?�
� She tapped her toe.
“I like it,” Christian said. “And it’s all I’ve got left.”
“Fair enough.” She put her sunglasses back on.
They walked up to the front door, where three-year-old Lilly was waiting to open it and welcome them with a joyful shriek.
Sinead winced but accepted the enthusiastic hug around her knees.
“Hi, Lilly,” she said, inching in through the front door with the little girl attached like a leech.
Christian laughed and ruffled her brown curls. “Hey Lil.”
She gave him a shy smile and tore across the ceramic tile floor to the hall that led to the kitchen.
Sinead looked at him and shook her head. “Excellent. This should satisfy your need for children. Especially if your step-sister brought the baby. Which I am not holding, do you understand? Last time I was handed that child Sydney snuck off for a nap in the guest bedroom.”
“Can you blame her? She’s exhausted!”
“Well then she should stop popping out kids!”
“Three is not exactly a record.”
“One.” Sinead followed him down the hall at a slower pace than Lilly had taken. “One might be manageable.”
He decided to have a nice afternoon and so kept his commentary to himself. It was obvious that Sinead needed more time.
Christian heard the hubbub in the kitchen and joined his sister, who presided over the cutting board with a sharp knife and some celery sticks. Five-year-old Emmet, Sydney and John’s only boy, was in charge of putting cheese into the celery centers.
“Stop licking them first, Emmet,” Collette said. “You will get kicked out of this kitchen. Got it?”
“Yes sir!” he said.
Collette looked down her nose at him, which only made Emmet laugh. That look on him had made Christian shiver in his Superman pajamas when he’d been a kid.
“We’re here!” he said, opening the refrigerator to put the salad and wine in. He kept out one of the beers and offered it to Sinead, who shook her head. “Amstel, Sis?”
“No. I’m drinking some amazing sangria that I know Sinead will love—so pour her a glass, will you?”
