Second Honeymoon. Laura Abbot
snuggled against him. “But you know the best part?”
He kissed the back of her hand. “No. What was that?”
“When we told them about the trip. Did you see their faces?”
Bud tensed, hoping Marie wouldn’t notice. He chose his words carefully. “I saw their faces, all right.” And they had not looked happy. For Marie’s sake, he hoped he was wrong. But he knew love when he saw it, and it had been in short supply tonight between Meg and Scott.
“There was just one odd thing,” she said. “I didn’t hear anything about Scotty giving Meg an anniversary present.”
“Maybe he did it in private.”
“I’m sure that’s the case.” She yawned drowsily and in typical fashion went straight to sleep.
Bud wished he could’ve had such a welcome release from his thoughts. He knew his son. He had not been himself tonight. Bud hadn’t wanted to worry Marie, but, if he had to make a bet, he’d say there had been no exchange of anniversary gifts.
WHEN SCOTT ENTERED the bedroom, Meg was sitting on the chaise longue, a book in her lap, waiting for him. He had loitered in the family room hoping she’d already be asleep, knowing all along that it was a vain attempt to postpone their inevitable discussion. At one time, the prospect of a week together in Colorado would have thrilled them both. The fact that now it most assuredly did not was one more nail in the coffin of their marriage.
Yet he’d seen the delighted look on his mother’s face, the kids’ smiles, his father’s beam of satisfaction. How in hell could he tell them—any of them—that a trip to Estes Park was out of the question? That the marriage was on the rocks? And he doubted that Ward Jordan would be happy to hear that he was going on vacation for a week.
Meg closed her book. “Do you want to put on your pajamas or talk first?”
He sat on the side of the bed, hands on his knees. “Shoot.”
Her eyes pierced his. “You have to tell them.”
“What?”
“That we’re not going.”
“And the reason is…?”
“Work.”
He sighed. “You heard Wes. That excuse isn’t going to cut it. Much as I’d like it to.”
“Then we’ll simply have to tell them the truth. We only have tomorrow before we’re expected to leave.”
Scott hedged. “I’m not sure I can disappoint everyone.”
She closed her eyes and let her head loll back. Finally she looked at him and said, “And you think I’m crazy about the idea?”
“Do we have to argue? What would be the harm in going on the trip? It would buy us time to get our story together.” He was grasping at straws, but he knew what joy planning this trip had given his folks.
“Are you suggesting we take the trip under false pretenses and then come home with the big separation announcement? That’ll thrill everyone.”
Damned if he knew what he was suggesting. He only knew that somehow they needed more time before deciding to take such a drastic step. If this trip would give them that time, then he was going. “Meg, here’s the deal. Before I move out, I want to be absolutely certain that separation is what’s best.”
“And you’re not?”
He searched his soul. Finally he said, “No, I’m not. What do we have to lose by taking one more week? Maybe being away from here will give us a different perspective. Allow us to figure out exactly why we’re separating. If going to Colorado means we let my parents and our kids have a few more days without heartbreak, is that so bad?”
“You’re sure you want to go?”
“I’m not happy about being gone from the office, but maybe this is an opportunity you and I need.”
She remained silent. Finally she stood, placed her book on the night table and turned to him. “Okay. Have it your way.” Then she walked into the bathroom, leaving him with no peace of mind whatsoever.
WHEN MEG OPENED HER EYES the next morning and realized she had another busy day ahead preparing for her absence, she groaned and pulled the covers over her head. Scott was already up, and she wished she never had to leave the protection of her bed. Never had to face Scott’s parents, Hayley or Justin—or her broken dreams. Just the idea of a week’s stay at the remote cabin with Scott made her restless. But maybe they did need time to decide how they were going to announce their separation.
Faintly, she could hear pots and pans clanging in the kitchen. Marie, the happy homemaker, was probably whipping up her famous apple-cinnamon pancakes. Hayley would still be in bed, but Justin and Scott were undoubtedly perched on kitchen stools applauding Marie’s efforts. Would anyone even miss her if she decided not to get out of bed?
That’s it. Keep that self-pity rolling.
She sat up, poked her feet into her slippers and headed for the bathroom, eyes puffy, mouth dry. She didn’t look forward to the separation. It wasn’t an easy choice to make. The fact was, she felt terrified.
But she could no longer endure a sham marriage. Keeping up appearances for her in-laws’ sake had already proved quite a challenge, and she had several more hours to go.
She reached for her toothbrush automatically, wondering how often she’d taken her daily routine for granted. Taken her marriage for granted.
After she washed her face and put on her robe, she wandered back into the bedroom. There on her dresser was an envelope, addressed in Scott’s bold handwriting.
She picked it up and held it for several minutes. Finally, she slit the seal and removed one of his monogrammed note cards. She studied the words scrawled there.
I’m sorry, Meg. Yesterday I never wished you a happy anniversary, and I didn’t buy you a gift. I guess I thought you’d prefer it that way. Maybe the last few years haven’t been so great, but I’ve never regretted marrying you.
Then he’d signed his name. No “Love.” Just his signature. But there was a PS. “Thanks for agreeing to go to Colorado with me.”
Meg reread the message. The note was proof of how far they’d strayed apart. He couldn’t even tell her in person how he felt.
Stuffing the card into her robe pocket, she blinked away tears that both betrayed and confused her.
CHAPTER FOUR
MEG GAZED OUT THE PLANE WINDOW at the patchwork of farms and open range thousands of feet below. On the aisle, Scott hunched over his laptop, lost in concentration. Between them was the empty middle seat, a symbolic chasm. Never a confident flier, Meg clenched her fingers in her lap and wished away the headache assaulting her temples.
Somehow she’d survived Sunday’s frantic race to wash clothes, pack, write down the kids’ schedules and prepare detailed instructions for Bud and Marie—all while wearing the frozen smile of a painted marionette. Had she fooled anyone? Who knew?
Then this morning, Scott had awakened early, totally preoccupied with the Jordan ad-campaign presentation. While he’d dressed, she’d lain curled in a fetal position in their bed, dreading a trip that months ago might have excited her.
Now Scott’s heavy sigh interrupted her musings. “What?” she said, that one word representing as much conversation as she felt like offering.
Checking his watch, he shrugged with impatience. “I need to call Brenda before the office closes.”
The headache throbbed against Meg’s skull. “There’s no huge hurry, is there?”
“You’ve forgotten the switch to mountain time.” His patronizing tone grated on her