The Wedding Plan. Abby Gaines
“Are you saying no because of Baltimore?” he demanded. The memory of that night gave him a mental pause, too, but they were both adults.
“Of course not. Doing it with you—” her cheeks colored at the poor choice of words “—is too complicated. Patrick’s family live in Colorado and would never need to know. Your parents are right here.”
Okay, that was a problem.
Lucas thought about it. His father had an almost fanatical regard for the truth. “Dad would never lie to John, or let someone else get away with lying to him.”
“Exactly.”
“So we wouldn’t tell them it was fake until later.” Lucas warmed to the idea. “Merry, if it wasn’t for your dad saving my father’s life, I wouldn’t exist. If I can help give John some peace in his last days, for the price of an engagement that’ll mean nothing to either you or me, and will soon be forgotten… It’s a no-brainer.”
There weren’t enough good reasons not to do it.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “When you put it like that…Lucas, thank you. I can’t tell you how much it would mean to me to be able to reassure Dad.”
“All in the line of duty.” His mind raced ahead, scoping out the mission, the critical path. He was surprised to feel a faint buzz of adrenaline. Yeah, he wanted to do this—support her, make her dad happy.
“We’ll be doing pretty much what we’d be doing over the next few days anyway,” he said. “I’d want to help you and your dad out while he’s sick. Now I’ll be doing it as your fiancé.” Lucas drummed his fingers on the table. “Maybe calling you honeybun every now and then.” He added casually, “I’d probably have to kiss you once or twice, too.”
His gaze had got hung up on her mouth again. He wrenched it away.
“No honeybun,” she said firmly. “No kissing. No…no hanky-panky at all.”
Her edict naturally made him immediately want hanky-panky—dumb, old-fashioned word—and lots of it. But…
“You’re right,” he said, and meant it. “We should avoid complications. This needs to be easy to unravel afterward. The best missions are the simplest.”
She rolled her eyes at the military analogy.
He sensed the situation wasn’t without risk, though he hadn’t had time to quantify it. But whatever it was, Lucas was an expert at risk management. “We’ll make it work,” he said confidently. “No problem.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MERRY’S FATHER WAS ASLEEP when she arrived in his room at seven the next morning. Now that he was stable, he’d been moved out of ICU, and even with all his tubes and monitors, he looked peaceful. More peaceful than she felt.
She’d had a third glass of wine with Lucas last night—it seemed they’d both felt the need of some liquid courage—and now she was paying for it with the thumping in her temples.
She sat with her eyes closed, waiting for her dad to stir. Lucas had said he’d meet her at the hospital this morning so they could announce their “engagement” together. She had to admit she was pleased not to be doing it alone.
By the time John woke, soon after eight, she felt a little less seedy.
“Merry-Berry,” he said sleepily.
She sprang to her feet. “How are you feeling? Can I get you something?”
“I feel good,” he murmured, sounding surprised.
The words sent a chill through her. Dr. Randall had described kidney failure as a “peaceful death.”
A nurse came into the room then. Merry wondered if one of her father’s monitors had alerted the nursing station that he was awake.
“Good morning, Mr. Wyatt. Think you can manage some breakfast?” The nurse’s tone was brisk, practical.
“I’ll have the pancakes with extra syrup,” John joked.
His courage brought tears to Merry’s eyes.
The nurse’s expression didn’t flicker. “You’ll have oatmeal.”
Merry gave her a look that asked her to lighten up. The woman—the name badge pinned to her pale pink tunic top said Cathy Martin—met it with indifference. She checked her patient’s blood pressure, tutted a little, then left.
“Are all the nurses that unpleasant?” Merry asked, feeling disturbed.
“They’re fine. That particular one seems grumpy.” Her dad sounded tired.
“Hi,” Lucas said from the doorway.
She spun to face him. Embarrassment and nerves—and maybe a slight hangover—made her clumsy, and she knocked her dad’s IV stand. Somehow, that set off an alarm.
“Damn.” Flustered, Merry gazed at the three screens that monitored goodness knows what, trying to figure out what she’d done. “Damn, damn, damn.”
Lucas sauntered over, as unflappable as a guy who’d aced the Rocklike Calm class would be. “If it’s important, someone will be here soon.”
Before he’d finished speaking, Nurse Cathy Martin was back. She bustled to the displays, then hit a button on one of the devices hooked up to Merry’s dad. The beeping stopped. She turned to Merry. “Who set that off?”
“It might have been me,” she admitted.
“Be more careful next time.” The nurse left.
Lucas raised his eyebrows at Merry. “Dad and Stephanie are parking the car. They’ll be here shortly.”
Merry glanced at her watch. Not even eight-thirty. “That’s an early visit.”
“I told them our news,” he said, too quietly for John to hear. “They insisted on coming.”
She stared at him, aghast. So there was no going back. Not that she wanted to…much.
Sure enough, Dwight and Stephanie arrived a minute later. Stephanie, pushing Mia in a stroller, was smiling brightly enough to light up a Christmas tree, and even Dwight looked almost jolly.
“Did you tell him?” Stephanie asked.
John lifted his head. “Tell me what?”
Merry gulped. Drew a breath. Before she could speak, Lucas said, “Merry and I got engaged last night.”
Any doubts Merry might have had evaporated in the burst of elation that came over her father’s face. “Merry, that’s…” He stopped, choked by emotion. His jaw worked. “That’s wonderful.” He stretched his arms out; carefully, she went in for a hug. He kept his left arm around her while he shook Lucas’s hand. “Smart decision, Lucas. You won’t regret it.”
“I know,” Lucas said with such sincerity that she stared. Then she realized he meant he wouldn’t regret faking an engagement for a few days.
Nor will I. Not now that I see how happy it’s made Dad.
Her father chuckled. “To think that all you two needed was a little push from me. Dwight, didn’t we always know they were destined to be together?”
Lucas’s dad was more about logic than destiny, but he nodded.
“We should have pressured them years ago,” John continued.
“We should have,” Dwight agreed. “If you recall, Stephanie wouldn’t let us.”
His wife swatted his arm, and he caught her hand and kissed it.
“So, where’s the ring?” John asked.
“We haven’t