The Wedding Plan. Abby Gaines
been eighteen going on nineteen, with him twenty-one. She’d produced a fake ID to buy a drink, and he’d told Merline that Merry was underage. For her own safety, he’d announced sanctimoniously.
Now, she handed over her driver’s license for Merline to hold up to the light, align the photo next to Merry’s face and generally make a production out of inspecting it. At last, she consented to take her order for a glass of chardonnay. She was chuckling as she walked away.
“What was that about?” Patrick asked.
“Old joke, long story.” Merry leaned her head back against the booth and gathered her energy.
“How’s Boo?” Patrick asked. He was convinced Boo’s constipation was the result of emotional trauma and would ease as soon as the dog accepted Merry as his new owner.
“No change,” she said.
Patrick filled the time until her drink arrived with an entertaining account of the conference he’d attended in Denver.
Merline reappeared with the chardonnay and a much larger bowl of nuts, which she set in front of Merry. Her apology for the driver’s license trick.
“Thanks, Merline,” Merry slid the bowl sideways to cover up a beer ring on the table. Every table at Pete’s had multiple such rings, and had for as long as she could remember. Shouldn’t Lucas have taken her someplace fancier on that second date?
As soon as Merline left, Merry leaned forward. “Patrick, something awful happened today. My dad’s in the hospital—he’s really sick.” She managed to tell him the situation without actually using the word dying, but her voice shook all the same.
“Sweetheart, that’s terrible.” He grasped her hands across the table, his eyes filled with tender concern. “You should have called me. I would have come to the hospital with you.”
She didn’t say, I never thought of it. “I know it’s hard for you to leave your patients. Besides, Lucas was there. Lucas Calder. He’s this guy, the son of—”
“—your dad’s best friend. The hero chopper pilot you always talk about,” Patrick said.
Merry blinked. “I don’t always talk about him. I never even mention him.”
“He’s the guy who got shot down last year,” Patrick said.
Okay, she might have mentioned that. Getting shot down was a big deal.
“The guy you played with as a kid, the ‘bossy jerk with an overactive rescuer gene,’” Patrick continued, clearly quoting her. The words did sound kind of familiar.
Weirdly, she had the impulse to defend Lucas. To say he wasn’t entirely a jerk. Even though he’d behaved like a massive one that night in Baltimore. Not thinking about that.
“The thing is,” she said tightly, “I do need your help now.”
Patrick shut up about Lucas, all concerned about her. “Anything,” he said. “Let me be here for you, Merry. I want to help.” His charming, boyish smile came out. “I love you.”
Phew, this is going to be okay. “Thank you,” she said.
When he blinked, she realized he’d been waiting for a reciprocal declaration. Time for that later.
“Dad’s worried about me being alone after he— In the future,” she said. “He asked me to get married.”
Patrick froze, wineglass halfway to his mouth. “I thought your dad didn’t like me. Now he wants me for a son-in-law?”
Merry noticed he wasn’t cheering at the prospect of matrimony. “Actually,” she admitted, “he asked me to marry Lucas.”
“Why would your father want you to marry a guy you’ve always said is a creep?” Patrick swigged his merlot. “Hasn’t he heard you go on about how Lucas doesn’t know the first thing about relationships?”
She wanted to dispute always and go on, and she was pretty sure she’d never said creep…but now wasn’t the time to split hairs. She managed a shrug. “It’s a family friend thing, that’s all.”
“You always say Lucas doesn’t like New London,” Patrick accused. “How come he’s even here?”
Could he stop with the always? “He came back to see his family.” Merry squeezed Patrick’s fingers. “Of course I’m not going to marry Lucas.” Now would be a good time to say “I love you.” “I’m not going to marry anyone at all, not right now. But if you truly want to help me…would you mind pretending to be engaged?”
Patrick’s fingers jerked; she tightened her grasp.
“Not for long,” she said quickly. “Just until Dad… Just for a few days.”
Patrick took another drink of his wine and swallowed hard before setting down his glass. “How would that help, when it’s Lucas he wants for you?”
“He might have a preference for Lucas, but his main concern is seeing me happy,” she assured him. “If we tell Dad we’re getting married, and I convince him I’m blissfully happy, I’m sure he’ll be delighted.”
She just couldn’t ask Lucas, not after Baltimore. If she asked him, and he turned her down again…or worse, if he thought she still wanted him… Ugh. She could make this work with Patrick, even if he wasn’t Dad’s number one choice. Her father was the ultimate romantic, if she convinced him she adored Patrick, he would be satisfied. Maybe she could persuade Patrick to say something nice about the navy.
“But we’d be lying,” Patrick said. “Getting engaged isn’t a game, Merry. You can’t devalue marriage like that.”
“You said you love me,” she snapped. She drew a calming breath. “Sorry, I’m under a bit of stress here. We won’t make a public announcement,” she promised. She might have to tell Dad they’d put a notice in the Day, but that would be a minor lie compared with the “we’re engaged” one. “It’ll be just between us and Dad, for a few days, maybe a week. Or so.”
That was another advantage Patrick had over Lucas. Lucas’s family would have to be lied to; Patrick’s parents in Colorado would know nothing about it.
Patrick was looking at her as if she was some kind of monster. She was starting to feel like a monster.
“Patrick, I know it’s not honest—” she reminded herself she liked his idealism “—but it’s for a good cause. The…the best cause.” Her voice cracked. She pushed the peanuts toward him as if they might serve as an incentive to get engaged to her.
Reflexively, he grabbed a handful of nuts and tipped them into his mouth. Which gave her more time to talk, to persuade him.
“It’s not as if you and I don’t care for each other a lot,” she said. “Maybe we could look at this as a trial run for a real engagement.” When he didn’t argue, she figured she was making progress. “Do you remember, on our very first date, you said you knew for sure I was going to be important in your life? And I said I felt the same? Maybe this is—” She stopped.
Patrick’s color had deepened. His hand was pressed to his throat; his eyes bulged.
“Uh, Patrick…are you choking?”
Stupid question. Of course he was.
Merry jumped to her feet, knocking over her chair. “Help!” she called. “He’s choking.” She dashed around the table. Heimlich maneuver. She’d seen it performed in countless movies.
For a moment it seemed no one had heard her over the happy hour hubbub. Then Merline rushed up. “What can I do?” Now other people turned to look, started to move, but in what seemed like slow motion.
“Just help me shift him....” Merry had her arms around Patrick from behind, but the high seat back made it impossible to get a grip. Dammit, this didn’t