Once Upon a Marriage

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Elliott wasn’t anything like her father. And did not deserve to pay for his sins.

  “Marie? You still there?” His voice wasn’t as commanding as usual.

  “Yes.”

  “Me, too. I’m still here.”

  Obviously.

  So. She’d called him for a reason.

  “Did my mother pay you to marry me?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But she knew, didn’t she? That you were...that we were...”

  She remembered the conversation her mother had started in bed that night before her wedding. She’d talked about not being able to live her life as the warden. As she’d have had to do with Marie’s father.

  Barbara had been having a hard time with what she’d done—hiring Elliott behind Marie’s back. She got that now.

  “I think she suspected that you were falling for me.”

  “She gave her blessing?”

  “To the contrary. She didn’t want you to fall for me because of the duplicity between us.”

  “But she gave you the go-ahead, didn’t she?” She was pushing. But she had to know.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because. If she didn’t you never would have pursued me. You would have put the job first.”

  His silence gave her her answer. And still she said, “She gave you the go-ahead, didn’t she?”

  “No, Marie. She didn’t.”

  “Then...you and me being married... She really is going to have your head for hiring you to watch out for me and then taking advantage...”

  “I can assume so.”

  He’d sacrificed everything for her and she still felt sick to her stomach every time she thought about that picture. “I need to go.”

  “I understand.” He didn’t hang up.

  She’d take care of her mother. Make certain that Elliott felt no backlash for any of this. Even if she had to play on Barbara’s self-expressed vulnerabilities and remind her mother of her own culpability. She didn’t want to. Would ordinarily not even consider doing so.

  But to protect Elliott...she would if she had to. She didn’t say so out loud.

  They were married. Had to discuss that fact, too. Somehow.

  “Your stuff is here.”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re welcome to come in and out of the apartment as you need to.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “We’re still married.”

  “I know.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I understand.”

  Hang up, woman.

  “Okay. So...goodbye, Elliott.”

  “Good night.”

  She hung up and, grabbing his robe off the back of her bathroom door, lay down on the couch and cried herself to sleep.

  * * *

  ELLIOTT DIDN’T TAKE any calls Monday morning. He’d had a couple from potential clients. He’d return those. He just needed some time to himself first.

  Time to figure out how to move forward. Until he knew if there would be formal blemishes on his reputation—which he expected as soon as Barbara returned from her honeymoon, if not before—he was going to proceed with business as usual.

  He would proceed with business afterward, too. He had to eat. He might not get any more gigs as a bodyguard, but the world was filled with shady PIs. And he was a darn good investigator. One of the best in the state, he’d been told more than once. Depending on any ethics complaints that came forth against him, if his private business slowed down, he could always look into police work. If nothing else he’d be able to support himself.

  He’d reached that conclusion sometime around three that morning. And then he’d slept awhile. He didn’t feel a whit better.

  But he was at the table for coffee as he and Liam and Gabrielle had arranged when he came upstairs the night before.

  Liam was at the table alone. Elliott chose an extra-strong coffee, brewed it and sat.

  He could hear Gabrielle in the other room, moving around.

  “You didn’t date a lot, did you?” It was the first thing, other than “good morning” and “help yourself,” that Liam had said to him since he appeared.

  “No.” Not that it was any of his business. But the answer didn’t cost him anything, so he gave it. The way he looked at it, he owed the other guy. He’d taken his money under somewhat false pretenses. Though he’d also given Connelly the services he’d paid for. Was still paying for.

  “Barbara can be a real pain.”

  “Understood.”

  “I have to know, Tanner, do you love her?”

  “Completely.”

  “If you two were to stay married, you’d be faithful until the day you died.”

  “Unequivocally.”

  “You’re a real pain in the...forget I said that.”

  Elliott hadn’t expected anything could make him feel better. But he almost smiled as he said, “Forgotten.”

  Liam didn’t say another word, and, when she finally appeared, neither did Gabrielle, other than to apologize for her lateness.

  Neither asked any more questions. Or had any answers for him, either. Yet both had to have spoken with Marie.

  He wanted to ask a few questions of his own. To hear someone else’s words running through his mind for a moment or two. He wasn’t about to talk about Marie behind her back. Or in any way risk putting any more shadows over his head.

  Living with shadows was worse than being on the outside looking in.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  MARIE WORKED UNTIL closing Monday night. Gabi had texted several times. She’d even come in the shop when she’d arrived home from work. Marie had assured her she was fine, and after promising to call as soon as she came upstairs, her friend had reluctantly agreed to let her handle things her own way and had gone upstairs to have dinner with her husband.

  She did as promised. The minute she let herself into her apartment, she phoned Gabi.

  “I need you guys as much as you think I do,” she started in as soon as Gabi picked up. “But for right now, I need some time to myself. I need to do what I’m good at. And then have some time to process. All on my own.”

  “But—”

  “Gabi.” She cut her friend off. “I’m serious. Right now this is between me and my own mind. My own heart. Because it’s my life.” She didn’t want to be mean. Or in any way offensive. “I feel like I’m fighting for my life here,” she told her best friend. Hoping that Gabi would somehow see the things she wasn’t sure she understood herself.

  “I’m fully aware that there are issues to be dealt with. A marriage that shouldn’t have happened—at least not so quickly—for one. But right now, before I can talk to anyone, my mother included, I need some time to myself.”

  “Okay. I just wanted to—”

  “I know.” Marie cut her off again.

  “Okay. Well...call me if you need me. Anytime. I don’t care if it’s four in the morning. You call me and I’ll be downstairs in seconds.”

  “I know.”

  “And you will?”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “No. I’m not okay. But I’m sure I need some time to myself to get there.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “This sucks.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It wasn’t wrong for him to take the job with your mom. And that woman, she was just a job. Her father hired him.”

  “My head knows that.”

  “He was doing his job.”

  “Yeah.”

  “
He loves you.”

  “Yeah. I love him, too.”

  “It’s a mess.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me, too.”

  Gabi wasn’t going to hang up as long as Marie kept talking. Marie understood. So she told her best friend that she had to go. Agreed to have dinner upstairs the following night. And rang off.

  * * *

  SITTING OUT IN front of the Arapahoe, a burger wrapper and empty fries carton in a bag on the seat beside him, Elliott watched the darkened coffee shop. She’d drawn the blinds a couple of hours ago. He’d seen the guard out front respond to a call half an hour ago. That should have been Marie going upstairs for the night.

  He’d done all he could. Time to call it a night.

  So he got out of his car. Walked across the street. Around back. And in the private entrance.

  Opting for the stairs, he climbed slowly. Not to the third floor.

  He was ready to be in his room alone for the night. And wasn’t about to sit out with Marie’s friends as though he was one of them.

  He had unfinished business with his wife.

  Key in hand, he approached the door that had been home to him for the past couple of weeks. Put his keys back in his pocket, and knocked. Legally he might have the right to enter on his own. Ethically he did not.

  “Gabi, I told you, I’m...” Her voice broke off and she stood there, openmouthed. And beautiful.

  But...broken, too. As was usual for that time of night, tendrils of hair had fallen out of her ponytail and circled her face. If she’d had on makeup, not much of it had survived the day. Her T-shirt had what looked like a fresh stain on one shoulder. Her jeans were the faded ones he liked best.

  And there was no light in her eyes.

  “You obviously didn’t check the peephole.” He wasn’t happy about that and didn’t bother to hide it. Not because he was a bodyguard and she was a job. But because he loved her and needed to know that she was tending to her safety. “The police suspect the danger with Liam is escalating,” he said. “It’s been a week and two days since the last episode. And the time between episodes has shortened. Another could happen anytime. It’s obvious to anyone watching—and let’s be clear that this guy’s been watching—that Liam is close to you. You’re in business together, live in the same building. Several of the threats have been delivered via your shop. And you didn’t check your peephole.”

  If he’d had any hope of reaching her soft side, he could probably kiss that goodbye. And it would be the only thing he’d be kissing anytime soon.

  “Is that it, then?” she asked, standing there with bare feet in the doorway. “You just checking up on me?” She paused, but before he could figure out how to get through to her, she started in again. “Fine. I failed the test. And you’re right. I should have looked. I’d just hung up with Gabi and I know she doesn’t like that I’m down here alone. But as I told her, I’m fine. And from now on I’ll check my peephole. I am well aware of the danger lurking right outside our door.”

  He could see the table to the right behind her. Part of it anyway. The big stainless-steel bowl she used to make salads was on the edge. As though she’d set it down on her way to answer the door.

  She hadn’t eaten yet.

  “I didn’t come to test your peephole compliance.”

  She stood back, leaving the door open for him to enter. She picked up the salad bowl and returned to the kitchen.

  Was this it, then? Their marriage was over? There wasn’t going to be a second chance? Or even a cooling-down period before they ended things?

  He wasn’t ready to collect his luggage, but accepted the invitation to enter her domain, closing the door behind him.

  The only thing dirty in the kitchen was the cutting board and the knife still on the counter. No plates or silverware. As he’d thought, she hadn’t eaten yet. But was reaching for the plastic wrap.

  “I’d sure love some of that salad.” The burger he’d eaten earlier was sitting like a rock in his stomach. But he wanted her to eat. Wanted to eat with her. Like the family they’d been for those few idyllic days.

  Marie looked at him as if she couldn’t believe what he was asking. Then she shrugged and took down two plates. She filled them both with Caesar salad, grabbed a couple of forks and carried it all to the table. Elliott fetched a couple of bottles of water and joined her.

  Feeling...better. She was sharing her dinner with him. Life hadn’t ended yet.

  * * *

  MARIE WAS HUNGRY, so she ate. It was nice, not being alone. Having another body in her space. But she couldn’t talk to Elliott. She had some things to work out within herself first.

  The salad was probably good. It filled her.

  “Gabi tells me you’re spending your time up there alone in your room.”

  “I am.”

  He’d cleaned his plate. But was reaching for more as he usually did.

  “I just wanted you to know that I don’t have a problem with you and them being friends. Not that I have any say one way or the other, but...”

  He looked straight at her. “Of course you have a say. With me. And I’m certain with Liam and Gabi, too.”

  In fairness, he was right. If she went upstairs and told Liam that she couldn’t handle having Elliott around, even if he kept out of her coffee shop, Liam would find another man to protect them.

  “Anyway, it’s fine.”

  He nodded. Carried his plate and hers to the kitchen. Towering over her sink, he rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. In the same places she’d have put them. He moved with a grace that reached out to her and she remembered the feel of those capable hands holding her close.

  He had to go. She didn’t want him to leave. She needed to be alone. To figure out what she needed and was capable of giving.

  Drying his hands, he turned to face her, leaning back against the cupboard. “I’m sorry.”

  Her throat tightened and she couldn’t speak. She nodded.

  “I was in Las Vegas, and I took a gamble. A bad one. But I need you to understand—I hope you can understand, for your sake as much as anything—that I’m not a bad guy. You didn’t place your faith erroneously, Marie.”

  Was he trying to save himself? Or her? She was confused. And, leaning against the counter opposite him, she crossed her arms.

  “Your mother and I talked, in the vestibule, right before she got married...”

  “That’s where she was? When she said she’d pulled a thread.”

  His forehead lined, he nodded. “I was seeking permission to tell you the truth. The way I was feeling...the way it was between us... I feared that something was going to happen between us in spite of my attempts to keep things platonic.”

  A trickle of warmth spread through her. A welcome respite to the cold. But not enough to begin a thaw. “You told her that?”

  “Not in so many words, but she knew how badly I needed to be able to tell you.”

  “And she refused.” It was a piece of the puzzle that she’d needed. As she tried to sort through everything. There were more.

  “Yes.”

  Did that mean it wasn’t until Vegas that he’d begun to feel the development between them? She gave herself a mental shake. There were bigger issues here. She just had to get everything in order and then see what she had.

  She understood his job. She just didn’t...

  “You seemed to imply last night that I put the job before you. I don’t. Your mother demanded that I stay away from you, and I married you instead. And the other night, it was... I was... Sometimes, for the safety of the client, it’s better to appear to be part of the party, not a bodyguard. I was working, Marie. Nothing more. It’s the first time I’ve had to pose as someone’s escort. And if I
can help it, it will be the last. I will never willingly accept such an assignment again.”

  He knew her well. And in the moment, that made her angry. Because she didn’t know him that well. She’d laid herself at his feet for months, while he’d been holding back all but a very few personal details about himself.

  Because he’d been working?

  He’d just told her about a job that was none of her business. Put her before the job.

  Marie stared at her toes. The polish she’d had applied that night in her mother’s hotel room looked almost as good as new. No chips. Funny...nail polish had seemed to have more resilience than she did.

  They had enough bad energy coming at them from Liam’s stalker. Didn’t need it coming from the inside.

  She’d worked that much out during the long hours she’d put in at the shop.

  Which was partially why she’d let him in her door. And shared her salad with him. It was how she’d justified giving in to her incredible longing to see him.

  “I took a job, Marie. Like every other day of my life. I get up. I go to work. So do you. You make coffee. I watch over people and do what I need to do to keep them safe from real or perceived harm.”

  “I know.”

  “How was I to know that when I met you, my whole life was going to change?”

  He couldn’t have known.

  “And you were in real danger. You still are. What kind of man would I be to walk away from that? Through sheer dumb providence I’d walked into the ‘in’ with Liam. A way to protect you without you knowing that your mother was having you protected.”

  She nodded. “It’s not really the fact that you married me without telling me that bothers me, Elliott. At least, that’s not what bothers me the most. It’s that I didn’t know you were lying to me. How am I ever going to know? And knowing that I can’t trust myself to know...”

  She broke off.

  He leaned toward her as he said, “I love you. Everything I did was to protect you. Not to deceive you. Trust me to help you with this, at least?”

  She loved him. So much. “What about you, Elliott? Are you going to tell me that when Liam called to tell you I’d seen that picture of you on the news Saturday night you didn’t die a thousand deaths? Because you knew you couldn’t count on your wife to trust you?”