Love, Laughter, and Happily Ever Afters Collection (59 page)

Jamison had planned to wait until Maddie’s birthday tomorrow to ask her, but maybe he should go ahead and do it that night. That way Maddie and Mick would have a good story to tell the grandkids—about the night they both got engaged at the same time—and Jamison wouldn’t have to worry about the off-chance that Mick would say something to Maddie about seeing him at the jewelry store and ruin the surprise.

He didn’t think there was too much risk of that, but a part of him was looking for an excuse to ask Maddie and put an end to the suspense. He had a pretty good feeling she’d say yes—they’d decided to start trying for a baby in six months, around Thanksgiving, and Jamison assumed she’d want to be married before then—but he couldn’t deny he’d feel a hell of a lot more relaxed when Maddie had his ring on her finger.

His ring. He was getting ready to dump a couple thousand dollars on a ring for Maddie Whitehouse. He’d spent half his life pulling her pigtails, and been too stupid to see how perfect she was for him for years, and now she was his best friend and soon to be his wife.

It was crazy, and wonderful, and Jamison suddenly knew he wouldn’t be able to wait until tomorrow. As soon as the ring was in his hand, he was going straight to the bakery.

It should be five o’clock by then, and maybe Lucy would leave the back door open and he would be able to sneak up Maddie’s stairs and leave a surprise on her landing again. But this time, the surprise wouldn’t be a shot of whiskey and a bad poem, it would be him, down on one knee.

The moment the thought went through his head, Mick swung through the door to Leonard’s, slipping his sunglasses on as he started down Main Street toward the fire station, a jewelry bag dangling from one hand. Jamison silently wished the younger man good luck, waiting until Mick was out of sight before heading back into the store. He returned to the engagement ring section, not surprised to find his attention drawn to the same ring he’d noticed before.

The diamond at the center wasn’t as big as some of the others, but it was surrounded by clusters of smaller diamonds that made the entire ring look like a flower, but in an elegant way, nothing cheap-looking about it at all. It reminded him of Maddie and the flowers she liked to wear in her hair. Maddie was always whipping up a crown of daises or wild roses to pin into her curls. She said, that on the island where she used to live, she and her friends would wear flowers in their hair to bring good luck.

Jamison figured luck was never a bad thing, especially when it came to a marriage. He felt like he and Maddie were meant to be, but his mom had died when he was too young to remember her and his dad together, and his aunt and uncle treated their marriage more like something to be survived than enjoyed. Growing up, Jamison hadn’t had the chance to observe a lot of healthy marriages up close. He wasn’t sure he’d always know what to do to make Maddie happy starting out, but he knew he loved her like nothing else in the world.

Hopefully that, and some luck, would be all they’d need.

“You look like a man who’s made up his mind.” The mustached man behind the counter—Robert, according to his tiny gold nametag—eased over to the engagement ring section. “Which one can I get out for you?”

Jamison smiled and pointed to the ring. “That one.”

“Lovely.” Robert unlocked the case and slid the ring off the red velvet finger it had been displayed on, placing it in the palm of Jamison’s hand. “I’ve always thought that looks like a ring for a girl with a ready smile.”

Jamison nodded. “She’s got a beautiful one.” He held the ring up to the light, turning it from side to side, liking it even more now that he’d seen it from all angles—and seen the tiny white tag that assured him it would scoot in within his budget.

He set it back down on the glass with a sigh, excitement and nerves making his heart beat faster as he said, “I’ll take it.”

Robert gave a sharp nod, as if he enthusiastically approved. “Perfect. Shall we have it sized?”

Jamison shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I’m not sure about her ring size, and I’d rather take it with me today.”

The man smiled, sending his moustache curving at the ends. “Sometimes coming back in to get the ring sized later is best. That way you can both start browsing for wedding rings. We’ve got a lovely diamond studded ring that’s made to fit beneath the curves of this ring. Really beautiful on the hand.”

Jamison nodded, silently thinking that a hunk of tin would look beautiful on Maddie’s hand as long as it meant that she had agreed to be his wife.

“I’ll get this cleaned and boxed,” Robert continued. “And we’ll have you ready to go in a few minutes. Do you have a credit card you’d like to use?”

Jamison plunked down his credit card, and while Robert busied himself getting the ring ready to go he wandered further down the engagement ring section, wondering which ring Mick had picked out for Faith. Knowing Faith as well as Jamison did, he hoped it was something simple that wouldn’t stick up too high or get in her way. Faith wasn’t a fan of things getting in her way.

But then, Jamison hadn’t thought Faith would be a fan of having her boyfriend move in with her mere weeks after they’d started dating, either. Love changed people in amazing ways, something Jamison could testify to first hand. A month ago he couldn’t have imagined spending thousands of dollars on anything except having the interior of his Mustang redone, now he was considering trading in the Mustang for something bigger and more family friendly. He didn’t want to drive his new baby around in a convertible, after all.

A baby. A baby he’d have with Maddie. Maddie, who was going to be his wife. His thoughts were a song he kept playing again and again, a melody that got sweeter every time he heard it.

A few minutes later, he had signed away a sizeable chunk of his savings and stepped out into the sun, feeling certain this would be a day he would never forget.

Later, when he was waiting in the Emergency Room all alone, wondering how in the hell his life could have gone to shit so completely in such a short amount of time, he would look back on the ignorant, hopeful Jamison of the afternoon and wish he could punch the fool in the face.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HE HAD ALREADY passed the shiny vintage blue Oldsmobile parked down the street from the firehouse when his neck began to prickle, the tiny hairs rising, sending out an alarm Jamison couldn’t understand but knew had something to do with that Oldsmobile. The car was familiar for some reason, and the reason wasn’t a good one.

His firing synapses had just started to connect the dots when Art Scully stepped out the front door of the firehouse and started across the grass toward him.

Charged across the grass is more like it. Jamison barely had time to drop the jewelry bag and lift his fists before Art was on him. Jamison blocked the first punch and the second, but the third connected with his cheek hard enough to send him spinning and agony blooming through his jaw.

He recovered quickly and turned back to his old boss, fists raised to block his face and spine curled to protect his stomach, but he didn’t try to fight back. He knew why Art was here, why he was throwing punches, and Jamison knew he deserved the beating his one-time friend had come to deliver.

“You should answer the phone, you piece of shit,” Art said, panting hard as he swung at Jamison again, the punch connecting inches above where the first had landed.

Jamison felt the skin above his cheekbone burst and fought the urge to cry out.

Art wasn’t a regular at the gym—his old boss did the bare minimum when it came to fitness, insisting he’d been at the job too long to need to look like something from a hose bunny calendar—but he was a big man. At six foot three, Art had a good four inches and fifty pounds on Jamison. If Jamison were to fight back, the difference in size would be made up by Jamison’s muscle, but he wasn’t about to throw a punch at Art, not after everything he’d already done to the man.

Another punch connected then another, sending Jamison stumbling across the grass with a groan.

“You lousy, lying, piece of shit.” Art was gasping for breath now, gasping and snuffling, little choking sounds emerging from his throat as he barreled after Jamison, shoving him to the ground.

Jamison hit the grass and looked up, his self-loathing hitting a new high when he saw the tears on Art’s face. He’d never seen his old chief lose his cool. Art was the type who always had his head firmly on his shoulders, the kind the younger men at the department in Atlanta had looked to as a pillar of strength in times of trouble.

But now, Art was anything but cool and looked older than Jamison had ever seen him.

Art was sixteen years older than Wendy—they’d married when Wendy was twenty and Art thirty-six. Wendy said she hadn’t felt the age difference then, but sixteen years later—when she was thirty and Art forty-six—things began to change. Wendy was a fresh-faced blonde with a turned up nose and freckles, the kind who never seemed to age. As the years passed, she’d begun to look more than sixteen years younger than Art, and was often mistaken for his daughter when they were out together.

It got to her. She’d started wondering what it would be like to be with someone her own age and flirting with Jamison not long after.

Jamison hadn’t been as close with Art as he was with some of the other guys at his old department, but he’d respected his boss. He’d done his best to ignore Wendy’s flirtation at first, but as time passed, he couldn’t deny that he was drawn to her in a way he’d never experienced before. Wendy wasn’t simply beautiful, she was funny and sweet and impulsive and, of course, forbidden.

That had played a part. Jamison could admit that to himself now, that the rush of sneaking around behind Art’s back and plotting how and when he and Wendy were going to run away together had heightened his emotions, making it easier to justify what he was doing, to call it love and believe he and Wendy had no choice but to betray Art in order to be together.

They’d planned to move back to Summerville and eventually get married, but the day after Jamison’s going away party at his old station, he’d returned to his apartment to pack up a few last minute things to find a note from Wendy.

She’d decided to stay with Art and make things work. She said she couldn’t see throwing away almost eleven years of marriage on something she knew wouldn’t last the year. Jamison had been devastated, certain he’d never care about anyone the way he’d cared about Wendy and crushed that she hadn’t felt the same way.

But that had been before Maddie taught him what love really felt like and made him realize what a monumental asshole he’d been.

Before, he wouldn’t have understood why Art was crying while delivering his beating. Now, he knew. He knew that Art loved Wendy the way Jamison loved Maddie. But Art’s love had been growing for over a decade, until it took up so much of his heart there wasn’t much left after it had been ripped away.

Jamison wasn’t sure how Art had found out about the affair, but he was shamed to his core for his part in breaking the man’s heart and prepared to let Art beat him unconscious before he’d lift a finger to stop him.

Fortunately—or unfortunately, Jamison couldn’t decide whether he was glad to be rescued or not—Jake and Brandon rushed up behind Art a moment later, grabbing him by the elbows and pulling him away seconds before the bigger man’s boot got a second shot in at Jamison’s stomach.

“Settle down!” Jake wrapped one thick arm around Art’s chest, holding tight when Art tried to lunge for Jamison again. “I understand where you’re coming from, but getting arrested isn’t going to make anything better,” he said, making Jamison’s gut clench as he realized Art must have already told Jake about the affair.

Jamison struggled off the ground, swiping at the blood dripping in his eye from a cut on his eyebrow. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice sounding as bruised as his guts felt from the kick that had connected with his mid-section before Art was pulled away.

“Fuck you,” Art said with a mighty sniff, obviously trying to pull himself together, though his voice was still shaky. “I can’t believe I ever called you a brother. I can’t believe I was sad to see your sorry ass leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Jamison repeated, chest tightening as he looked up, seeing Jake staring at him with a disgusted look of disbelief not much different than Art’s.

Even Brandon—Brandon the newbie who had a bad case of hero worship when it came to both the Hansen brothers—was looking at Jamison like he was something unwelcome that had crawled out from beneath the fridge in the break room.

“I screwed up,” Jamison said, searching for the right words, though he doubted any could make this better. “I screwed up bad, and if I could go back and undo it I would, Art. I swear I would. I never meant to hurt you. I thought I loved her, I thought—”

“Shut up,” Art said, wincing as if the words were painful. “Just…shut up.” He took a breath, his shoulders sagging as the fight went out of him.

After a moment, Jake loosened his grip, pulling his arms away to rest a gentle hand on Art’s back. “Can I do anything for you?” he asked the older man.

Art shook his head sadly from side to side, his gaze still on the grass at his feet. “No. I’m just going to go home and…get on with it.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” Jake said, “give me a call. I can’t discipline him for something like this, but you can be sure life won’t be pleasant around here for him for a while.”

Jamison’s throat pulled so tight that for a moment he felt like he was going to choke on the blood running down from his busted nose. He and Maddie had been trying so hard not to make waves so close to the wedding, and now Jamison had ruined everything, driving a wedge between him and his brother only days before Jake was scheduled to say his “I do’s.”

Jamison watched with a sinking feeling in his gut as Jake helped Art to his car, certain this day couldn’t get any worse until he glanced across the street to see Maddie staring at him from the sidewalk outside the bakery.