In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4)

In Your Dreams (Blue Heron #4) Page 20

A cold fist of fury clenched in her stomach. Really? she wanted to say. Broken, as in “heartbroken”? And why would that be? Because you jilted me two months before our wedding? Because you left me for some exercise-addicted shrew and told the world I sabotaged you when in fact I loved you with all my heart for seventeen years? Why on earth would you worry?

“I wasn’t sure you’d ever get over me,” he said, reaching out to tuck some hair behind her ear.

She jerked back. “Well, somehow I managed. They dropped the suicide watch a while ago.”

He gave her a sad smile, and she remembered it well. The commiseration smile, back when he was fat and she was a stutterer, the “yeah, I know what that’s like” smile, and somehow that was the worst thing of all. How dare he feel sorry for her? How dare he worry about her? How dare he bring back her stutter when she really should be past this, goddamn it?

“I’m glad,” Kevin said. “I hope you and your guy will be as happy as Nay and I are.” Nay. How gross. “Are things serious?”

“Yep. In fact, we’re engaged.”

Oh, shit and whiskey. Not smart. Not smart at all.

But it was kind of great to see Kevin’s mouth drop open. The stutter, too, was shocked and retreated to a corner to regroup.

“You are?” Kevin asked. His cheeks mottled with color, and he glanced down at her left hand. “Where’s your ring?”

“It’s being resized.” Well, well, well. Seemed like she was a pretty excellent liar. The things you never knew you could do until you had to.

“I’m happy for you.”

He sounded anything but.

Guess Kevin had gotten a good bit of satisfaction, thinking about her mooning over him (which she had), staying home every Friday night (okay, yes, she did that a lot), feeling like no one would ever fall for her again. (Fine! She had those thoughts, all of them!)

Even so, this walk had just become a lot more enjoyable.

“So when are you getting married?” he asked.

“We haven’t set a date yet.”

“Well. Uh...this is great, Emmaline.”

“Thanks,” she said. “Listen, I think I’ll run the rest of the way, okay? See you later.”

Because satisfaction aside, she had to tell Jack. Pronto.

“Sure. I’ll see you back at the ranch. You’re playing some of the couples games with us later, right?” He smiled, but it wasn’t the sweet Old Kevin smile from before. “Wait till you see Naomi in a bikini. That’ll get you motivated to lose some weight.”

Oooh. War had been declared.

“Not everyone is fixated on physical appearance,” she said sweetly. “Some people put more emphasis on kindness, loyalty and decency.”

“Yeah. I used to tell myself the same thing when I was fat. Off you go. Burn those calories. Hey, I’ll race you.”

JACK WAS SHAVING when the police tried to bust down the door.

Correction. When Officer Neal tried to bust down the door, dressed in running shorts and a T-shirt, drenched in sweat and blowing like a steam train. “Have we been invaded?” he asked, opening up. “Aliens? Meteors? What’s—” She pushed past him, ignoring the fact that he was wearing only a towel. “Why don’t you come in?”

With a sigh—women—he went back into the bathroom and continued shaving. She followed, flipped down the lid of the toilet and sat herself down. “We’re engaged,” she panted.

“Make yourself at ho—what?”

“I’m sorry. I know I said I didn’t want the whole pretend boyfriend thing, but I told Kevin we’re engaged.”

“Then I demand conjugal rights.”

“Shut up, Jack.”

“Is that any way to talk to your fiancé?” He rinsed the razor and continued shaving.

“He was being so nice. He even picked me a flower.”

“Bastard.”

“Exactly! Oh, you’re being sarcastic. Save it, pal. Anyway, he was very sweet. Then he was all condescending, and then I said something about us being engaged. Just let it ride, okay?”

“And your family?”

“Shit.” She closed her eyes. “My parents are pathologically incapable of keeping a secret. I can’t tell them. I’ll call them after we leave this hellhole.”

Another set of frenzied knocking broke the quiet, this time on what sounded like Emmaline’s door.

“Emmaline?” said her mother. “Open up! Why did you keep this from us? Are you sure it isn’t a mistake?”

“Oh, the tangled web we weave,” he said. “Better open the door, Pooh Bear. And give me a second to get dressed, okay?”

She finally noticed. Her face went red. She glanced away from him, then back at his torso, and Jack smiled. “We have a lifetime to explore each other,” he said. “Now open the door before they get a battering ram.”

“I hate lying,” she muttered.

“Your other option is to come clean with Kevin.”

“I don’t hate lying that much.” Then she went through the adjoining door into her room and greeted her family.

Jack finished shaving, rinsed his face and pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Doting fiancé, check. Hey. Women did things like this. Hadn’t Colleen O’Rourke asked him to pretend to be her boyfriend? Or was that Shelayne Schanta? Whatever. Women got squirrelly around their exes. It was a known fact.

“I knew it!” Angela crowed when Jack joined them. “Jack! You devil!”

Emmaline’s father shook Jack’s hand vigorously. “Welcome to the family.”

Her mom looked puzzled. “Emmaline, are you... I was so sure you were—” Angela gave her a gentle nudge. “Well,” she amended. “This is very happy news.” She gave Em an awkward hug—awkward because Em looked as relaxed as a concrete wall.

“Do you have a ring?” Angela asked.

“Tell them about the ring, sweetheart,” Jack said.

“Oh, yeah. It’s nice. Very, um, pretty. It’s being resized.”

“What kind of cut? Emerald? Cushion? Solitaire?” Angela asked.

“Sort of round,” Em mumbled.

“Why do you have two rooms?” Mrs. Neal asked, glancing around.

Jack lifted an eyebrow. He’d let Em handle this one.

“I... Jack has...a medical...condition. He...he can’t, uh...”

“Shy bladder?” her father suggested. “Don’t worry. I’m the same way.”

Emmaline looked as uncomfortable as if she were giving birth to a large bad-tempered porcupine. “It’s just more spacious this way. Space is good. We like space.”

“The final frontier,” Jack murmured.

“Exactly,” she said. “So. Who’s doing all those stupid couples activities today?”

“You said you were just friends,” Mrs. Neal said. “I try so hard to establish an intimate mother-daughter bond with you, Emmaline, but you’ve kept this entire relationship from me.”

“I suspected,” her father said, nodding. “I picked up on something in her tone the last time we talked.”

“No, you didn’t!” her mother spat. “You thought she was g*y, too.”

Jack’s new fiancée looked pained. She started to answer, stopped, then said, “I have to make a phone call. I just remembered.”

“Coward,” he whispered as she bolted past, closing the door to his room. Then she came back immediately, grabbed her phone and went back, slamming the door.

“This must’ve happened fast,” Em’s mother said. “Why the rush?”

“Well, we didn’t want to waste time,” Jack said. “You know.”

There was a collective gasp.

Oops.

“Is Emmaline pregnant?” Angela whispered.

Jack grimaced. “I’ll, uh, let her answer that.”

“Emmaline!” her mother shouted. “Are you pregnant?”

She burst back into the room. “No! What did you tell them? I’m not pregnant!”

“I misspoke,” Jack said. “She’s not pregnant. Definitely not.”

“You are! Aren’t you?” Angela crowed. “Oh, hooray! I’m going to be an auntie!”

AN EON OF MUTTERED lying later, the Neals left, firmly convinced that Em had a bun in the oven.

“How could you do that?” Emmaline wailed. “Honestly, Jack! I’m gonna have to pee on a stick before they’ll believe I’m not preggers, and my mother will want to be right there when I do, so thank you for that.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s all a little blurry, seeing that I only learned we were engaged thirty seconds before.”

“Exactly! I’d think it’d take a little longer to conceive.”

“Then let’s get right on that.”

“In your dreams, Jack. And knock it off, by the way.”

“Don’t we have somewhere to be right now?” he asked.

She flung herself into the chair. “Yes. Couples volleyball starts in ten minutes.”

“I can’t wait,” he said.

She got up and started yanking drawers open. “And to top it all off, I have to wear a bathing suit. God hates me today.”

With that, she went into the bathroom and closed the door.

Which was too bad. Now that they were engaged, Jack felt he at least deserved to see her naked.

It wasn’t couples volleyball, Jack soon learned as they walked to the pool. It was couples chicken. Well, it was called something else, something crunchy and fake sounding, like Partnership Water Celebration, but it was chicken. The pool was a vast, turquoise thing shaped like a shamrock, waterfall on one side, an organic kale smoothie bar on the other. Several very fit couples were shrieking and laughing and flexing, looking like a commercial.

Beside him, Emmaline groaned. She was wearing what looked to be a white parachute. He’d seen burkas that revealed more skin.

It was a shame they weren’t going to swim in the ocean. Apparently, the ocean was too cold without a wet suit (Californians had clearly never swum in Keuka in May, the way Jack did every year).

At the memory of cold lake water, his heart began to thud. He stopped abruptly, and Emmaline, walking beside him, stopped, too. “Jack? You okay?”

Now his breathing was funny, shaking in and out of his chest. His heart felt the size of a cantaloupe. Something was wrong; he might be having a heart attack—

Then Em was towing him to a lounge chair and pushing him in it. He grabbed her wrist. “Nice and easy,” she said, sitting so they were face-to-face. “Slow down your breathing, big guy.” She reached out with her free hand and pushed some hair off his forehead. “Nice and slow.”

He was supposed to be looking after her this weekend. Not the other way around.

“The weather’s amazing today, isn’t it?” she said. “Say what you will about Southern California, we have great weather.”

She smelled like sunscreen. Also, she had freckles. He’d never noticed that before.

“I thought we could take a drive later on. It would be good to get away from here for a little while. Not that I’m having a terrible time or anything.” She smiled a little. Twisted her hand so he wasn’t gripping her wrist anymore, but left her hand in his. “There’s a great donut place not far from here. Well, there was. I hope it’s still in business. I’ll buy you a sugar—”

He leaned forward and kissed her, and her mouth opened in surprise. Her lips were soft, and that was enough. That was all he needed. Her soft, pretty mouth, and her hair, hot from the sunshine, under his hand as he cupped the back of her head.