Foolish Games (21 page)

Julianne’s gaze darted from one man to the other. “Hello.”

Roscoe acknowledged her with the briefest of nods before turning to Will. “I’ll wait outside.”

Her palms were sweating now. “Will?” she pleaded.

He stood from his chair and closed the gap between them. She wanted to reach up and wrap her arms around him, but there seemed to be an invisible force field in place keeping them apart.

“I have to go to Baltimore tonight.”

Julianne shook her head in confusion. “I thought we were together this weekend. Is something wrong?”

His eyes were full of anguished fury. “I’m going to be subpoenaed to testify.”

Her hand shot to her mouth. “No!” she cried. “You said”—she pointed toward the door where Roscoe had slipped out—“
he said
it was finished. You wouldn’t have to testify. Everything was going to blow over.”

Her heart ached for him. This had to be devastating for Will. She reached a hand to his face, but he recoiled slightly. Julianne’s chest constricted and the breath caught in her throat as her hand hung there in the air. Unshed tears burned behind her eyelids.

“It’s not over. I’m being yanked in front of a Senate committee investigating racketeering charges.” His words were like hard blows to her stomach.

“Se—Senate committee?” Black dots swam before her eyes. This was the point where Will had always stepped in, his big hands holding her, comforting her. But he made no move to help her now, and her heart nearly shattered. With weak knees, she backed up against one of the bar stools and leaned against it.

“Yes, Princess. You’ve heard of those, haven’t you? I’m sure you must have, since your brother is on the committee that subpoenaed me.” His voice was cold and her body shivered involuntarily. “I have to know, Julianne. Why did you do it?”

Oh, God! What had she done?
She’d ruined everything. “I didn’t,” she cried. Except she had. A gasping sob escaped and she placed both hands over her mouth.

“All this time, you’ve been here collecting information for your brother. Was it fun, talking to him every day sharing my secrets, Princess?” The look on his face was savage now.

“It wasn’t like that! I didn’t mean it, Will! I didn’t!”

“Save it.” Will’s words cracked like a whip. Then he slammed her file folder down on the counter. “How much did he pay you? Was that what this was all about, Princess? Money?”

She shook her head, the words lost in the sobs. Everything was a tangled mess and she couldn’t find the right words to fix it.

“You used me to get money so you can go back to your glamorous life as a designer.”

“It isn’t like that,” she insisted. “I was going to tell you about the new company next week. It’s not what you think.” She was pleading now. “Will, I would never betray you. I love you. Please, believe me.”

He grabbed both her arms and pulled her in closer. She nearly sobbed in relief as his body drew near, her own body arching toward his. But he didn’t gather her in or kiss her. Instead, his fingers tightened around her flesh.

“Why should I believe you,” he snarled, “when all you’ve ever done is try to deceive me. And don’t you dare mock me by saying you love me.” He shook her. “Not ever again, Princess, because I’m not buying it.”

“William Anthony Connelly!” Annabeth shouted over Julianne’s choking sobs and Owen’s wails. “What is going on here?”

Mercifully, his fingers loosened on her arms, and that was when she saw it: the wedding band on Will’s left hand. A ferocious sob escaped her now-shaking body. Will’s eyes followed hers to the ring. He tore his hands away and stripped the band off his finger, waving it in front of her face.

“I’m all done with your foolish games.” He stormed out the door toward the pier.

“No!” Julianne cried, running out onto the verandah behind him. “Please, Will!”

But her cry was whipped away by the rising wind. It was too late; his long strides had already carried him to the dunes. She wept along with her son as Will tossed the ring into the high tide. Julianne’s knees buckled at the sight and her body landed in a heap on the wood decking.

She wasn’t sure how she got to her room. Several hours had passed since the confrontation with Will, and darkness had settled like a shroud over the house. Switching on the bedside lamp, Julianne had vague recollections of Will stepping around her crumpled form earlier and kissing a tearful Owen on the head. He’d told their son he’d be back in a few days, but he hadn’t bothered speaking to her. Then he drove off in the rental car with his agent.

Julianne’s eyes were heavy and they burned. Her legs wobbled as she made her way to the nursery. Owen was sleeping fitfully in his crib. As she gently rubbed a hand over his back, he instantly calmed to a deeper sleep. The wind whipped beyond the windows and the ocean roared. How foolish she’d been, always worried the sea would sweep away the ones she loved. The ocean hadn’t taken Will away; Julianne had accomplished that with one misspoken sentence. And the pain was like a knife wound to her belly.

Voices rose from the kitchen. It sounded like Annabeth and Patricia below. Julianne crept toward the stairs.

“I don’t know what happened, Patricia. I’ve seen him look at her like that before, but those other times, he had pure lust in his eyes. Today . . . today it looked like he actually hated her.” It sounded as if Annabeth choked out the last words.

Julianne swallowed around the lump in her throat. Will did hate her. And she couldn’t blame him. He’d trusted her with his secret when he hadn’t trusted anyone before. And look what she’d done with his trust. She silently trod down the stairs.

“Oh, come on Annabeth, it can’t be all that bad.” Patricia handed her friend a cup of tea.

“I’m afraid it is that bad,” Julianne said softly from the doorway.

Annabeth sprang from her seat at the table. “Julianne, will you please tell me what’s going on?”

“I wish I could, but I’ve already unintentionally divulged one of Will’s secrets. You’re going to have to go to him for this one.”

“For heaven’s sake! You’re just as cryptic as he is. Will isn’t talking. He won’t answer his cell or return my texts. One of you needs to tell me what’s happened.”

“Umm, I don’t think we need either of them to explain it to us anymore.” Patricia pointed to the television screen in the great room. She grabbed the remote to turn up the volume as the ten o’clock news began and an image of Will disembarking from a small plane filled the screen.

“Baltimore Blaze All-Pro linebacker Will Connelly is the first NFL player to be served with a subpoena to appear before the Senate committee investigating racketeering in the National Football League, stemming from allegations surrounding Bountygate.”

The three women watched in silence as a man handed Will an envelope, a disgusted Roscoe looking on.

“According to sources within the senate, Connelly has information that can substantiate the rumors of an alleged bounty scheme. Connelly’s testimony could make or break several lawsuits filed by players claiming to have been injured as a result of the scheme.”

Annabeth gasped.

“Sources close to Connelly say he will invoke his Fifth Amendment rights, a move that will ensure him an indefinite suspension from football, according to the league office. The hearing is scheduled for next week. No word yet from the Blaze as to whether Connelly will participate in the team’s mandatory mini-camp also scheduled for next week.”

The tears were running again down Julianne’s cheeks, their salt stinging her raw skin.

Annabeth whirled on her. “Dear God, Julianne, what did you do? When you said you sold your soul to your brother yesterday, did that include selling my son’s as well?”

Julianne had gone numb hours ago, so Annabeth’s words didn’t inflict the pain they might have. Wrapping her arms around her midsection, she stood there and let Will’s mother attack her, happy that he had someone in his corner.

“This is all a bunch of lies! How could you tell your brother lies about Will?” Annabeth demanded.

“I have to agree, Julianne,” Patricia chimed in. “Will and the Blaze are known throughout the league for their integrity and fair play. What would even make you think such a thing about Will?”

Julianne locked eyes with Annabeth. “He wasn’t with the Blaze when it happened.”

It only took a few seconds for the realization to dawn on Annabeth. With a sharply drawn breath, she plopped down on the sofa. “Oh no.” Patricia sat down beside her, taking her hand.

Julianne knelt on the floor at Annabeth’s feet, telling Will’s mother and Patricia the tale of his unintentional involvement in Bountygate. Resting her head on her mother-in-law’s lap, she tearfully recounted her phone conversation with Stephen.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. I was defending Will. I never would have said anything had I known what my brother would do with it. Stephen used me,” she cried bitterly.

“Hush, Julianne,” Annabeth soothed, gently stroking Julianne’s hair. “None of this is your fault.” She gave Julianne a sad smile. “I’m sorry that I even doubted you. You’re an impulsive woman, but only because you want to protect the people you care about. Your brother is the guilty one here.”

Julianne gave a heaving sigh of relief just as the thunder rumbled overhead. She
was
impulsive—and gullible—but it was comforting to know her mother-in-law understood. Too bad Will hadn’t trusted her enough to stick around and allow Julianne to defend herself. It seemed to Julianne that her husband was just as impulsive. Annabeth patted the couch beside her. Julianne climbed off the floor into her mother-in-law’s arms.

“Well, this is quite a mess,” Annabeth said as she wrapped a blanket around a now-shivering Julianne. As lightning crackled outside, Julianne snuggled against her. For once, she was too preoccupied to muster the strength to be frightened of the weather. Will would be so proud of her. If only he didn’t hate her.

Owen had been cranky all morning, jarring Julianne’s already frazzled nerves.
She pushed him along the main street in Chances Inlet, one of the wheels of the stroller squeaking as it rolled along. A strong breeze blew off the ocean, the remnants of the previous night’s storm that had kept most of the tourists indoors. The isolated sidewalk perfectly matched her mood.

Most of the town’s residents had already heard about Will’s subpoena. The sports networks quickly connecting the dots had surmised Julianne was the culprit, shredding her brother’s carefully crafted wedding story of her and Will’s reconciled love. Now she was painted as the woman who’d stop at nothing to wrangle out of a marriage of convenience and return to partying in Europe with her son.

The people of Chances Inlet had been giving her the cold shoulder all morning. Mrs. Elderhaus, Will’s first-grade teacher, however, went one step further, haranguing Julianne on her walk through town. “Shame on you!” she railed at her. “That boy is as honest as the day is long and always has been. You’ve done nothing but cause trouble in his life. If he’s smart, and he is, he’ll dump you like a sack of hot potatoes!” Chin high, she’d stormed off to catch up to the rest of her walking club.

It was ironic, actually. Will thought the people of his hometown pitied him, mocked him, or considered him less than they were because he didn’t have a father. She wished he could be here today to see how wrong he was. He was one of them whether he’d grown up in the Seaside Vista Trailer Park or in one of the stately houses on the intercoastal waterway. Too bad he’d never understand that.

As she pushed the stroller into Annabeth’s shop, she nearly ran over Gavin. He blocked her path, his arms crossed over his chest. Gavin wasn’t quite as massive as Will, but he was well muscled and nearly as tall. Whereas Will’s face was chiseled and hard, Gavin’s was more rugged, with laugh lines bracketing his twinkling eyes and a pair of devastating dimples. His wavy hair was always in some disarray from where he’d pulled his fingers through it. Of the two men, Gavin always looked the most approachable.

Except for today. The hard line of his mouth warned Julianne that Patricia’s son was clearly in Will’s camp. Not that it surprised her. Once again, she was relieved that his friends were still loyal to him.

“What is it with you women?” Gavin stood there as if he expected an answer.

“I just don’t get it,” he continued. “You think it’s okay to just sucker punch a guy like that. To ruin his name. His career. The sad part about it is the dumbass would have given you anything.
Anything.
”

Julianne had to look away because she felt the tears threatening again. Owen whimpered, stretching to try to reach his foot. Gavin crouched down on his haunches as he reached into the stroller to let Owen play with his finger.

“He loved you, you know. I didn’t think it was possible he’d ever find anyone to love, he’s such a stubborn asshole. But he did.” Gavin’s voice was gravelly, as if he were wrestling with his own emotions. “It hurts when you women rip a guy’s heart out and stomp on it. Some guys don’t ever get over it. Unfortunately, I think Will is going to be one of those guys.”

She forced the lump in her throat down as Gavin kissed Owen on the head. He didn’t bother to look at her when he stood and walked out the door. Shoulders slumped, she pushed the stroller deeper into the store. Lynnette, Annabeth’s assistant, swooped from across the room to pull a now-fussy Owen out of the stroller.

“I think he might want a bottle,” Julianne said, handing her one from the diaper bag. “He’s really out of sorts today, so don’t take it personally if he doesn’t drink too much.”

“Likely the boy misses his daddy.” Lynnette gave her the evil eye before disappearing into the back office with the baby.

Annabeth sat at her computer eyeing Julianne over her reading glasses. “Has he called you?” she asked.

There was no point asking who
he
was. Neither woman had heard from Will in nearly twenty-four hours. Julianne shook her head.

With a resigned sigh, Annabeth removed her reading glasses. “So what’s your plan, Julianne?”

“My plan?”

“Yes, Julianne, your plan. Surely you have one?”

She didn’t, actually. Not a single one. All her life, she’d never needed a plan, simply moving from one thing to the next. She’d started designing on a whim when a wealthy friend from boarding school fell in love with one of Julianne’s sketches and just had to have it as her wedding gown. From there, her business had spread by word of mouth. When Sebastian had come along and taken her under his wing, she’d left all the planning to him, enjoying life as it came.

“Flying by the seat of your pants.”
She cringed as Will’s description of her echoed through her mind.

Her pregnancy had altered her lifestyle. Now she was responsible for another human being. But she hadn’t planned that well, either. She skirted around the truth, keeping secrets from those around her. And look where that landed her. She’d acted brashly selling JV Designs, not thinking how she’d support herself in the future. Regrettably, she hadn’t planned, and the results were stupid choices. The one decision she didn’t regret, though, was marrying Will.

“Do you love him, Julianne?” Annabeth’s delicate voice interrupted her thoughts. “Do you love my son?”

Julianne nodded through her tears. “Yes. Yes I do.”

“Then you have to have a plan.”

The antique Hepplewhite chair creaked as Julianne sat down on it. “I don’t even know where to begin. Will won’t answer my calls or respond to my texts. He doesn’t care about listening to my side of things. He just assumes the worst.”

“Can you blame him?”

Annabeth’s words stung, but she spoke the truth. Their relationship didn’t have much of a basis in trust. And it was Julianne’s fault.

“One thing is for certain, you’re not going to get to talk to him by hiding down here in Chances Inlet.” Annabeth stood and walked out from behind the counter. “I, for one, am done with hiding.”

“You think I should go to Baltimore?”

“Well, the mountain isn’t going to come to you, Muhammad. Believe me when I say no one does stubborn martyr better than my son. He’d just as soon think the whole world is against him than admit he might have made a mistake. And believe me, he shares in the blame for this mess. A lot of people do,” she said with quiet certainty.

Julianne ran her hand along the smooth mahogany arm of the refurbished chair. “How do I get him to listen to me? To really trust me?”

“It’s too bad your Slytherin brother can’t be persuaded to tell the truth to Will,” Annabeth mused.

“Not unless there’s something in it for him.”

Julianne had left a caustic voice mail on Stephen’s phone the previous evening, Annabeth and Patricia cheering her on. She’d told her brother to take the money from their grandmother’s trust fund and shove it. She wanted no part of the Marchione money. And, she’d added for good measure, she wanted no part of their family anymore. After all, had her grandmother loved her enough, she would have left her the money outright. She’d told Stephen she’d never forgive him for what he’d done to Will and subsequently to their marriage. He’d tried to call her repeatedly since then, but she’d let the calls go unanswered.

It had been liberating to tell her brother off, but the pain of his deception still cut deeply. It hurt to know her family loved and respected her so little. Her father had essentially written her out of his life shortly after her mother died, leaving her brother as her guardian. The two were never close, but she enjoyed being an aunt to his children. She’d miss that. Annabeth had stayed by her side during last night’s storm, reassuring Julianne that she and Owen were her family regardless of what happened with Will. The thought was both comforting and tragic.

“You should have let me invest the money when I offered it.” Annabeth interrupted her thoughts. “If I give it to you now, Will would certainly misinterpret both of our intentions. It’s too bad because that company was just what this town needed. And I think Will would have been proud of what you were going to do with the profits in his name.”

Julianne contemplated her mother-in-law as her inner Scarlett O’Hara took control. “Who says we have to shelve the idea?” A germ of a plan was formulating in her mind.

Annabeth chuckled. “I guess we don’t. You know what? Who cares if Will gets mad if I invest with you? It’s my money.”

“That might not be necessary.” Julianne paced the small store. “The last thing I want to do is drive a wedge between you two. But I may have another strategy for financing that I hadn’t considered before.”

“Like I said a few minutes ago, it’s always good to have a plan, girl.”

Julianne hugged her mother-in-law. She still wasn’t sure if she had a plan to get Will back, but at least she was going ahead with cementing his legacy in this town, whether he wanted it or not.

“It’s settled then,” Annabeth said as she pulled out of their embrace. “We’re going to Baltimore. But first, I have to look up some old neighbors from Seaside Vista.”

“And I have to call a priest.”

 • • • 

For a second night, Will couldn’t sleep. His body was sluggish and tired, but his brain wouldn’t give in to the numbness that slumber would provide. He couldn’t stop thinking of her. Julianne had never been in his loft or in this bed, but he swore he could smell her on the sheets. Everywhere he turned in the bed, her scent was there.

He was going mad. Bat-shit crazy like his wife.
His fake wife.
Make that soon-to-be-ex-fake wife. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten about the fake part. And that was how he’d gotten screwed.

Yanking off the tangle of sheets, Will jumped out of the bed in frustration. The sounds from the city blared beyond the windows. It was just the noise. Will always had trouble adjusting to the traffic sounds when he returned to Baltimore. He turned on the white noise machine and set it to play ocean sounds. Soon the room was filled with the sound of Chances Inlet and the sea lapping at the beach.

But when he turned back to the bed, he was once again reminded of Julianne. The tousled sheets brought back memories of rolling around on the mattress with his wife beneath him. She was a whirling dervish, leaving chaos in her wake. He was glad to be rid of her. Except his body was hard just thinking about what she could do to him.

Damn it!

Will gave up on the idea of sleep and trudged down to the kitchen. A half-eaten pizza sat in its box on the counter, surrounded by three empty beer bottles and two dirty plates. Hell, even his kitchen looked like Julianne had been in it. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza out of the box, not bothering with a plate this time. Padding over to the refrigerator to get a beer, he heard his cell phone beep. He’d purposely left it downstairs to avoid the incoming calls, mostly from his mother and Julianne.

Settling on the sofa, Will took a bite of the pizza before tossing it onto the coffee table as the phone beeped again. He ripped the phone out of the docking station and glanced at the screen. Just as he suspected, a voice mail from Julianne. Hadn’t she gotten the message? He didn’t want to talk to her.
He couldn’t bear to talk to her.

The voice mail had been left just after midnight.
Good, she couldn’t sleep, either
, Will thought with satisfaction. But then he immediately considered Owen. What if the baby was sick? Or worse? Panic clenched at his gut as he put the phone on speaker and clicked on the message before thinking better of it. Julianne’s husky voice filled the loft.

“Hi.” Just that one word was enough to rip the breath from Will’s lungs, his body heating up instantly. He hated how much power she had over him. Even in disgust, he still craved her, ached for her.

“Um,” she continued. “Since it looks like you plan on being in Baltimore for the next few days, I’ve decided to bring Owen up there so you can spend time with him.”

No!
Seeing Owen meant seeing the boy’s mother, and Will wasn’t ready for that yet.

“The whole point of this . . . marriage was so you could bond with him, and that’s not going to happen if you’re seven hours away. He misses you,” she added tenderly.

Her words nearly ripped Will’s heart out of his chest.

“We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I guess I’ll just text you when we arrive. Unless you want to be a grown-up and talk directly.” There was an exasperated pause. “Good night, Will.”

He chucked the phone onto the coffee table, barely missing the slice of pizza. She wasn’t just crazy, she was the queen of manipulation. Julianne would definitely use their son to get back into Will’s life. Fortunately, he saw right through her. He didn’t need the distraction of her in Baltimore this week, but the fact of the matter was, he did miss Owen. Something would have to be worked out. Something that didn’t involve him having to interact with Julianne.

Grabbing his phone again, Will scrolled through the photos of Owen he had taken. His throat constricted as he perused the pictures. He missed the feel of Owen sleeping against his chest and the sweet smell of clean baby after his bath. Will hadn’t realized how much of his life revolved around the little guy. After the hearing, the two of them would probably be spending a lot more of the season together than Will had originally imagined. It was the one consolation of the decision he’d made.

He laid the phone back on the table, which was littered with documents. The subpoena sat next to the custody agreement Roscoe had drafted up earlier. His agent had not been happy with either of the decisions Will had made over pizza and beer a few hours before.

“I know if I look hard enough,” Roscoe had advised him. “I can find something on her that will ensure you full custody.”

“No,” Will had replied. “That would only hurt Owen. Besides, you’re going to need to spend your time trying to get my suspension lifted so I can play football this fall.”

Roscoe had heaved a sigh. “Or you could just tell the committee and the league what they want to know, thus avoiding suspension altogether.”