The Wedding Plan. Abby Gaines
“But your dad doesn’t like him, right?”
“That’s the one drawback,” she agreed.
“What’s wrong with the guy?” Lucas asked.
“He’s…” For one moment she wished Patrick was a different kind of guy. “Um, you know that Shakespeare quotation, ‘Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war?’”
“One of my favorites,” Lucas deadpanned.
Entirely possible, given his penchant for rushing to the rescue. Merry sighed. “Patrick’s the founder of the Dogs of Peace.”
“The what?”
“It’s a peace protest group.”
Lucas snorted a laugh.
Merry was all in favor of the laying down of arms and everyone loving their fellow man, et cetera. Truly. But it would be a lot handier if Patrick could devote himself to a different cause. Saving trees, for example. Trees needed protestors, too.
Her father might not have much respect for tree huggers, but he didn’t despise them.
“Patrick thinks the military is evil.” She ignored Lucas’s exaggerated gasp. “He believes he has a right to say so, and he likes to exercise that right. Often. Turns out Dad doesn’t appreciate free speech, not all the time.”
“Where did you meet this flake?” Lucas asked.
In the interest of winning the war, rather than every tiny battle, Merry bit down on the urge to extol Patrick’s wonderful, manly qualities. “He was protesting outside the submarine base in Groton.”
“With…the Dogs of Peace.” Lucas said the name as if it were a rat’s carcass that Boo had dragged in.
“Right,” Merry said. “Patrick’s a veterinarian. Dogs of Peace, get it?”
“Oh, brother,” Lucas muttered. “How long have you been seeing him?”
“Several months.” Since soon after that night in Baltimore, but that was sheer coincidence.
Lucas’s forehead cleared. “So, if you and Patrick are serious, you really are fine about that night we…”
“Totally.” Ugh, her voice went too high.
“That’s great, Merry, because I want us to stay friends.” His sudden smile was oddly boyish. It tugged at the same part of her that had been attracted to Vulnerable Lucas six months ago.
“I bet you do,” she said. “I probably know more of your faults than any other woman, and I’m still willing to talk to you.” Yes, remember his faults. That’ll help.
He grinned. “That goes both ways. Does Patrick know how bad you are at letting a guy look after you?”
She used to enjoy infuriating him during their childhood games. He would turn up to rescue her, claiming to have boarded the submarine where she was being held hostage. She would claim to have overpowered her captor, escaped the sub, then grabbed on to a passing dolphin that delivered her to shore. A scenario no dumber than his, which involved him sneaking into a submerged submarine.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like being looked after, it was more that she’d never liked Lucas’s reasons for wanting to protect her and everyone else in his path. It was nothing personal…and that was the problem.
“Patrick doesn’t need to save the world to feel good about himself,” she said. Wonderful though he was with animals, there wasn’t much chance of Patrick overdoing the rescuer instinct.
Lucas opened his mouth as if to argue. Then he paused, and said, “Since we’re okay, can I ask you a favor? I just came from my parents’ place.”
“Did you see Mia?” Merry asked. “Isn’t she adorable?”
He blinked. “Yeah, sure. Dad wants me to talk to you about whether I should be trying to get back to the Gulf.” Lucas sounded as if he couldn’t quite believe his father was relying on any opinion other than his own.
They’d reached the end of the beach; they turned and started back.
“Your dad’s a changed man,” she said. “I like him a lot better these days.”
Lucas didn’t look excited. “Could you tell him you think I should get a retest on the physical?”
“What if I don’t think that? What if I think it’s time you accepted reality and figured out what matters?”
He rolled his eyes. “You sound like Dad. But it’s not like you’re big on reality yourself, with your romantic ideals.” He must have sensed her imminent objection, because he hurried on. “And it’s not like I haven’t helped you in the past. You used the fact we were ‘dating’ to make your father feel better about you turning down a full ride to Berkeley.”
Lucas had been hopping mad with her about that. But she’d wanted to stay with her father. They were each other’s only family, and family was important. But Dad wouldn’t have wanted to “hold her back,” so Lucas had grudgingly let her claim a closeness they didn’t have. While her dad had been disappointed she wasn’t going on to further study, he’d been happy that she and Lucas were together.
“I’ve already done my share of helping you out,” she said. “I was your decoy for six months when that captain’s daughter was after you. We didn’t ‘break up’ until you were assigned to the ship you wanted.”
“I know, but—”
“And what about when you were worried Dwight might use his influence to keep you out of a war zone? I gushed for three months about how thrilled I was that you were fighting tyranny on foreign shores. I did a great job.”
Their strategy had been simple, but effective. Since Lucas and his dad had a weird don’t ask, don’t tell policy on any number of subjects, Dwight would never discuss Lucas’s love life with him. Instead, Merry informed her own father of their latest status, knowing that he would pass it to Dwight over their weekly game of pool, or while they tended meat on the grill.
“In hindsight,” Lucas said, “I don’t think Dad would have intervened. So that one doesn’t count.”
“It counts,” she retorted. “Then there was that ex-girlfriend’s wedding I had to attend as your date.” Lucas had wanted to make it clear to the groom he wasn’t pining for the bride.
“You’ve been a trouper,” he said insincerely. “One more time, Merry, that’s all I’m asking. Then you and Patrick can ride off into the sunset spouting poetry or whatever it is you romantic types like to do.”
She smacked his arm before she remembered that touching him wasn’t a good idea. Too much room for confusion.
Boo yipped, as if questioning her intent; his Lassie face had lengthened in anxiety.
“Fine,” Merry said.
He stopped. “You’ll do it? You’ll ask my dad to request a retest?”
“Yes, I’ll do it,” she said. “What are friends for?” He was right; they did help each other out when they could. And if he went back to the Gulf, she wouldn’t see him for another year, by which time there was a faint chance they would both have forgotten Baltimore.
Not.
“Thanks, Merry,” he said.
For one horrendous moment, she thought he might kiss her.
Then he said, “I’ll ask your dad to put in a good word, too. I need all the help I can get.” Mission accomplished, he strode toward the workshop, distancing himself from her with every step.
He wrenched the iron door along its track, pausing halfway, then finishing the job with renewed vigor. He disappeared inside.
Ten