by Laura Moore
“Yeah. We only need a fire.”
“And a boombox.”
“Or your guitar.”
“Lord, those were the days.” Lauren’s words ended in a soft white puff of laughter that dissolved in the inky darkness. “By the way, dibs on throwing the baby shower. Katie and Ali are going to be over the moon when they hear that Auntie Dakota is going to have a baby. A real live baby.”
“Thanks. I’d love that. It’s all hit me so fast—the baby, Max’s idea that we should marry—it’s like being rolled by a monster wave.” She shrugged inside her coat. “Lauren, the marriage…do you really think I should do it?”
“Yeah, I do. For both your sakes. And the baby’s. Look, the situation’s not ideal, I’ll give you that. But let me tell you something. Being a single parent is hard and scary. There are so many things I miss about Zach. Losing the one person who cared as much about Katie and Ali tops the list. But you have a chance to see whether you and Max can figure it out, and learn to be partners and parents. I know you’ll give it your all. From everything you told us tonight, it seems like Max will, too.”
“I just keep wondering about what I’m depriving him of if I say yes. Max wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and that’s why we ended things. But that could have changed. And if it did, well, he could have had anyone.”
Lauren swore softly and swiftly. “See, this is why I hate Piper and Mimi and your whole damned family. I don’t care that they’re insufferable snobs. That’s a common enough defect. What I can’t forgive is their using the fact of your birth as an excuse to treat you like a second-class citizen. Even Piper does it with her ‘I’m the only parent you’ve got. It’s just you and me kid, so you better love me no matter how selfish I am.’ Listen, Dakota, you’re beautiful, smart, and a successful businesswoman. And you’re kick-ass strong—except when it comes to believing in your own self-worth because your family’s done such a good job of hacking away at it. So the same goes for you. You also could have found the most amazing person—”
For that brief period in December, she thought she had.
“—and if what you say about Max being relationship-shy is true, then doesn’t he deserve extra credit for proposing that you two tie the knot?”
“Yeah, he does. I was kind of telling myself that earlier.”
“Good. So get married to your rich-as-Midas hunk and rock it, Dakota.”
God, how she’d needed to hear that. Finding Lauren’s hand, she squeezed it tightly. “I will. I love you, Lauren.”
“Love you back, Dakota.”
—
Dakota was in her kitchen fixing a cup of chamomile tea and munching on a saltine when her cellphone rang. She picked it up, looked at the number, and answered with a casual “Hi,” even as a flush of pleasure warmed her body. He’d called.
“I didn’t wake you?”
“No. I went to Gen’s for a girls’ night out with Lauren and Rae. Then I was reading. I downloaded What to Expect.”
“Oh. And?”
“It’s very…well, I guess the right word is ‘informative.’ And a bit overwhelming. Where are you?” Remembering the night he’d drunk-dialed her from some bar, she strained her ears for some telling background noise. Not that she’d necessarily blame him for tying one on after the kind of day they’d had; she just wasn’t sure she could handle a female voice intruding with a saccharine demand of “Max!”
“I’m still at work. I wanted to move ahead on some projects.” There was a moment’s silence. Then he said, “How are you feeling?”
She figured this was as rare a line of questioning for him as it was for her. Needing to steady herself, she leaned her hip against the counter. Raising her mug, she took a tentative sip. Still too hot, she thought. “Physically, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
“I had a protein smoothie at Gen’s that Rae fixed per your instructions. It contained kale, which should have made me puke but didn’t. And I’m having a cup of tea and a cracker now.”
“Good. That’s good.” He paused again. “And how are you feeling otherwise?”
She swallowed and wondered whether he, too, was gripping his phone tightly. “About us?”
“Yeah.”
“I think—I think you’re right. We should get married.” And if in her heart she’d imagined a very different scenario when she became engaged, she squelched the secret yearning. She tamped down, too, on the sudden clammy fear that gripped her.
She heard a rush of air, the sound of Max exhaling heavily. So cool Mr. Carr hadn’t been sure of her response. Did that make her feel better? Perhaps, but the truth was, she was too nervous to analyze anything properly.
“That’s good—that’s good to hear,” he said. “I, uh, looked into what we need to do. We can get a license at the town hall. All we need is a birth certificate and a driver’s license. Once we have the license, we can get married twenty-four hours later. We’ll need an officiant—”
“Um, Max, I know all this already. It kind of comes with the concierge service territory.”
“Right. Of course.” He cleared his throat. “So, any preference? I’ll do whatever you choose.”
Best to keep the ceremony simple, straightforward, and unemotional. It would make it easier for both of them. “I know one of the county clerks, Martin Geller. We organized a surprise anniversary party for his parents. I can ask him.”
“Sounds good. I’ll come out tomorrow so we can get the license. Can you ask if he can marry us on Friday?”
Her legs suddenly wobbly, she braced her elbows on the counter. “Friday? This Friday?”
“The sooner we marry, the better the chance we have of changing the conversation quickly and burying your aunt’s story.”
“Okay, I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow.”
“I’ll see what can be done about getting the wedding announcement in the papers and posted online. We’ll need a good professional-quality photograph to go with the announcement.”
She couldn’t help but be impressed. He’d thought of everything. “I often use a photographer who’s in Bridgehampton. I’ll call her.” Straightening, she grabbed the notepad she used for grocery and errand lists and jotted down Martin and Greta and hair, underlining the last several times.
“Do you have anyone you’d like to have as a witness?”
If this had been a normal wedding, she’d have packed the place with her friends, but somehow she suspected that she’d be even more terrified about the huge step they were taking—make that a Grand Canyon–sized leap—if she was surrounded by loved ones. “No, that’s all right. I saw them tonight, and Lauren’s going to throw me a baby shower.” She paused. “And what about you? Would you like your father—”
“No. He won’t come.” His answer was like a door being slammed shut, reminding her of all he kept closed off.
She rubbed her eyes. “Max, we’re going to—” she began, just as he said, “So what size—” Both of them broke off. Then Max said, “Go ahead. What were you going to say?”
“Only that we need to talk about how this…” She paused to swallow the lump in her throat. “How this marriage will work. You know, what the parameters and our expectations are.”
“Such as?”
“Such as I’m not ready to have sex with you.”
Okay, that had come out far more baldly than she’d have liked. But at least she’d said it, and at least they hadn’t been face-to-face when she did. Because otherwise she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to say it, not with her body and perhaps even her heart at odds with her mind.
The silence stretched. Nervous, she picked up her mug and gulped her tea. She grimaced. Lukewarm, it tasted terrible. “Max?” she said tentatively.
“Yeah, sure, I understand.”
His tone made her feel compelled to justify herself. “After all, we had broken up—”
“I get it, Dakota.”
Abruptly she revised her earlier thought, now wishing sh
e could see his face. Then she might have a chance of figuring out what was going on in his mind. “It’s just that I’m not sure where we stand.” And didn’t that top the list of oddest things to say to the man she was going to wed in little more than seventy-two hours?
She heard him draw a breath and then release it in a loud and weary sigh. “All right. How about we discuss what we want out of this marriage after we’ve gotten the license tomorrow?”
“Okay.” She closed her eyes briefly as she replayed their conversation. Recalling that she’d cut him off, she said, “What were you going to ask me about just now?”
“What? Oh yeah.” He gave an odd, muffled laugh. “I wanted to know what size ring you wear.”
She bit her lip until the pain matched the one in her heart. How must he have felt, all set to discuss rings, and she went and flatly announced she wouldn’t sleep with him?
“So do you know?” he asked.
She lowered her gaze to stare at her bare hands. “I’m a size six. And you?” she said softly, her heart thudding. “Would you like to wear a band?”
“Uh, sure. I guess. Why not?”
He was willing to wear a ring. Her ring.
“Do you know your size?”
“My college ring was a twelve. It still fits.”
“Okay, that’s good to know.” She added ring to her list. “Do you prefer gold or platinum?”
“They should match, right? I was thinking you’d look good with a platinum ring. But I’ll get you whatever you want…” His voice trailed off.
He was breaking her heart, one minute making her doubt that it could ever work between them and the next bowling her over with his thoughtfulness. “I’d love a platinum ring,” she said quietly.
“There’s a jewelry store in town, right? We can get a sense of styles we like there.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“So this wedding, it’s a go?” he asked.
She could still refuse. “Yes, it’s a go.”
And God help them both.
Dakota waited until eleven o’clock the next morning to call Piper to be sure she was awake.
“Dakota! I’ve been meaning to get in touch. That stain in the rug? I had to send it out to be professionally cleaned. You’ll foot the bill, right? I’d say it’s only fair.”
That was debatable. But it was a waste of time to argue, and she had dozens of things to take care of before she met Max. “That’s fine. Have the rug cleaners call me when the rug is ready.”
“And how is the puking?”
“Somewhat better. The mornings are the worst. But certain smells and foods trigger it. I’m getting better at identifying them.”
“That’s good, I suppose.”
“Dr. Davis would like me to regain the weight I lost.”
“Be careful you don’t get too fat. I didn’t, but you’ve always been a hearty eater. You’ll have to watch out that you don’t end up looking like Mimi.”
Clenching her molars, Dakota abandoned the idea of telling Piper about her anemia and low blood pressure. The sooner she got to the point, the sooner she could hang up. “Listen, Piper. I just called to tell you I’m getting married on Friday.”
“Married?” her mother said blankly.
“Yes, married.”
“You mean to Max Carr?”
As if I have other candidates waiting in the wings, Dakota thought. “Yes, to Max Carr.”
“Really? Well, bully for you, though why you’d want to get hitched is beyond me,” she drawled. “I hope you’ve made sure the prenup is generous.”
“I haven’t asked for one. Contrary to what Mimi is busy saying, I’m not interested in his money.”
“More fool you. If you’re going to give up your freedom, you might as well make some money out of it. Because believe you me, when you start to lose your looks and he gets bored with the same old same old, he’ll divorce you and leave you high and dry. That’s what men like him do. Just think, you and Mimi will be able to swap sob stories. Maybe it will make her like you.”
Pain spiked the side of Dakota’s face. With an effort she unclenched her jaw. “First, you don’t even know Max. He’s not at all like George.” Among other charming attributes, Mimi’s ex was a heavy drinker and a secretary-groper. The bank he’d worked for as VP had finally fired him, deciding that to keep him all but guaranteed having the bank’s name sullied with a sexual harassment suit. “Second, unlike Mimi, I know how to work for a living. I don’t need a man to support me.”
“No need to get in a snit, Dakota. I’m just trying to give you some good advice. But you’ll do as you like, as usual.”
That was rich. “Right. Look, I was just calling to see if you wanted to come on Friday. We’re getting married at the town hall.”
“At what time?”
“I called Martin Geller and asked him to officiate. He said—”
“You’re having Marty Geller perform the ceremony? How incredibly dull.”
“He’s a perfectly nice man.”
“Yes. He makes Mr. Rogers seem like Andy Warhol.”
She refused to rise to the bait. “Whatever. He can do the wedding at two o’clock.”
“At two? I’m almost certain I have something then—”
Piper would have any number of standing appointments she could use as an excuse: her trainer, acupuncturist, massage therapist…
“But of course I’ll come if I possibly can.”
That was pretty much a guarantee she’d be a no-show, Dakota thought. Not having her there was a relief, actually. The ceremony would be difficult enough to get through without Piper sucking the oxygen out of the room. “I understand. Listen, can you do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t tell Mimi about the wedding.”
“Why? It’s not like she won’t find out anyway.”
“Because she’s doing her best to destroy my business and I don’t want her to have a chance to spin more tales.”
“Destroy your business? Really, Dakota, there’s no need to exaggerate. She is family, you know.”
In a family that was about as loving as a nest of vipers.
“Please, Piper, if you could just keep it to yourself,” she requested, knowing it was too much to expect Piper to stand up to Mimi and defend her.
Piper let out an annoyed huff. “Fine. I won’t say a word, never mind that it’ll put me in the line of fire.”
“I appreciate your bravery,” she said dryly. “If you want to come to the town hall at two o’clock, we’d be happy to have you.” There, she’d done her duty.
“Do try to squeeze in a facial at least. You’re looking decidedly the worse for wear.”
Piper was at her most lethal when she was right. “Thanks so much.”
“Oh my God, I just realized what this means.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ll be living at Windhaven. Poor Mother and Father.” She laughed. “They must be turning in their graves,” she said, and gave another laugh. “Congratulations, darling. Not even I’ve managed that.”
—
Max had scheduled an early meeting with Roger Cohen, the firm’s general counsel, so that afterward he’d have time to swing by Tiffany’s and then take the helicopter he’d reserved to East Hampton.
Roger’s assistant brought them coffee. When the door shut behind her, Roger picked up his cup and asked, “So what are we looking at this morning, Max? Selling AB1? Chris Steffen’s contract? Chris is just blowing smoke, you know. The contract’s rock solid.”
Needing the caffeine to jolt his system after a nearly sleepless night, Max drained his cup in three gulps. He leaned forward and set it on Roger’s desk. “Yeah, I know. What I don’t get is why he’s acting like this. Chris has always been a prick, but he’s never been certifiable. Something’s definitely off with him. I feel that I made a mistake campaigning to have him run Chiron.” He didn’t usually doubt himself this way.
�
�But the board loves him. And he’s made a lot of money for Summit before,” Roger reminded him.
“Yeah, the board loves him,” Max agreed. “And Chris promises he’s going to make even more for us.” Which was why he wasn’t actively figuring out ways to shut him down. “I hope I can keep his ego in check.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Yeah.” He met Roger’s gaze, and the two of them shared a cynical smile over the walking cesspool that was Chris Steffen. “But actually, Roger, I didn’t come here to discuss deals present or in the pipeline. It’s a personal matter.”
“Let me guess. Another woman’s blackmailing you?”
“No.” He gave a short laugh. “I need my will changed. I’m getting married on Friday.”
“Oh, fuck!” Roger’s face flushed pink with embarrassment. “Christ, I’m sorry about the blackmailing crack. That was in totally bad taste.”
“It’s okay, really. I’d have said the same thing in your position.”
Roger took a slug of his coffee, evidently stalling for time to collect himself. “So, uh,” he began, “congratulations, Max. Who’s the lucky woman?”
“Her name’s Dakota Hale. This is the will I have now.” Bending over, he extracted it from his briefcase, then pushed it across the desk to Roger. “The new one should be changed so that the principal beneficiary of my estate will be my fiancée, Dakota.” It felt strange saying the word “fiancée” for the first time, even stranger realizing he’d be switching to wife in three days…a wife who didn’t want to sleep with him.
As he’d told Dakota on the phone, he got it. When they broke up, he’d probably made her think he was all too happy to end it. In fact, a part of him had been relieved. She’d been getting too close.
But now he didn’t have a choice. He was going to marry her. They’d be sharing a house. A life. So yeah, it irked him that even though he was willing to take this huge step, she was going to deprive them of something that had been good between them. Not just good, great.
What the hell was he to do about Dakota’s decree? Damned if he knew.
Roger had finished reading the document. “So you’d like to make, uh…it’s Dakota, right?”
