Married by June (3 page)

A
LICE PUSHED OPEN THE
door to the tasting room. “Did Cooper leave?”

“He liked the red velvet,” Jorie said. She thought she’d done a good job of sounding exactly like a bride-to-be after a satisfactory cake tasting, but when Alice came all the way into the room and crouched down next to the table, she knew she’d failed.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t think he was going to like it.” Jorie used two fingers to slide the silver tray away from her. The uneaten cakes were making her nauseous and she thought vomiting in Alice’s tasting room might be bad for their friendship. “Whoever named it should have done better market research because that sucker is a tough sell. Velvet is fuzzy, you know?”

Alice didn’t respond.

“He called off the engagement.”

Saying it out loud made it real. Alice sat back on her heels, apparently at a loss for words. She
was only the first, Jorie realized. Everyone she told would look at her with exactly the same shock mixed with pity. She’d have to notify the caterers and the hotel. She’d need to call the priest and cancel the church, but first, she’d have to call the Wish Team. They’d pulled strings to get the National Cathedral. That call would be the cap on the dissolution of her life. Once the wedding was canceled, this whole dream would be down the drain. She’d be her mother, trying to cobble some new life together after she’d lost her latest man. There was no way she’d be able to pull her business back from the brink after this. Who would hire the wedding planner who couldn’t even drag her own man to the altar?

No.

She wasn’t going to watch her life fall apart. She regretted saying anything to Alice.

“I don’t think he meant it, though,” she said quickly. “He said he was working on the vows. It could have been cold feet.”

“Tell me what he said.”

The door to the bakery opened and the college boy who was working the register stuck his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Alice, but there’s a woman here who says she ordered five dozen coconut cupcakes and the only ones in the cooler are strawberry cheesecake.”

“They’re on the top shelf, already boxed. Find them. I’m with a bride.”

“Not exactly,” Jorie muttered.

The door closed again and Alice pulled the empty chair around and sat down, facing Jorie. “I want to hear what happened.”

“You have customers.”

“They can wait. Tell me.”

“He said he can’t marry me,” Jorie whispered. She should get up and leave before she embarrassed herself any more, but she didn’t.

The door swung open again. “Alice, what’s the register code for the apple pie?”

“Pies are free for the next fifteen minutes. Tell the customers it’s a cooked fruit freebie frenzy.” Alice narrowed her eyes at her assistant. “Also, Eliot? You go to Georgetown. You can manage the bakery by yourself for five minutes. It’s straightforward. Take in dollars. Hand over carbohydrates.”

Eliot retreated.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Alice said.

“You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not the easiest person to love. I’m private and prickly and I’ve never been good at relationships.” Jorie paused. She could hear her voice rising and she really didn’t want to lose control. She and Alice were friends, but not the kind who bared their souls—it was bad enough she couldn’t seem to stop talking.
“But I thought Cooper knew me. I thought he was okay with me.”

Alice put her hands on Jorie’s shoulders. “I’ll give you private, but I don’t see prickly. Whatever Cooper’s problem is, it’s not you.”

Jorie looked down at the table.

“Right?” Alice prompted.

“Sure.” Jorie sighed. “Do you think we’ll have to give the Wish Registry gifts back?” When she and Cooper had agreed they didn’t want gifts for their wedding, her mom had been disappointed that she wouldn’t get to help Jorie fill out the registry. It had been Chelsea’s inspiration, so typical of her generous spirit, that had led to the Wish Registry. It included everything from music lessons to sports tickets to trips and video game systems—a list of wishes the foundation had matched with recipients. Her mom had insisted that they wrap each item, even if it was only a gift certificate or trip itinerary, so the recipient would have something tangible. “My mom loved that stupid registry so much.”

“And you love Cooper, right?” Alice asked gently. “You were marrying him because you love him, not for your mom, right?”

“How could I not love Cooper?” she asked.

Alice let that go. “Are you too prickly for a hug?” Any other day Jorie would have felt like an idiot for being so publicly distressed, but today seemed
to be a day of firsts. When Alice pulled her in and hugged her, she closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. She did love Cooper. Or she would have loved Cooper once they were married. She was quite sure she had the right feelings about him. She liked his company. They had good talks. She liked the way he looked. They were great in bed. She’d talked to enough couples to know that she wasn’t exactly passionately in love, but she was close. If only she had a little more time.

C
OOPER TOOK THE FRONT
steps to the Georgetown row house he’d grown up in two at a time. On the way there, he’d imagined about fifty really bad reasons his dad wanted to meet him at home in the middle of the day. It was probably politics, but Cooper, who spent his life writing inspiring speeches, had a very good imagination.

His mom opened the door when he knocked, and because she’d been on his list of possible casualties, he gave her a hug in addition to his usual kiss on the cheek. His dad had told him she was fine, but his dad had lied to him before. Of course, Nolan Murphy would call it keeping him on a need-to-know basis. His dad’s standards were far from black and white when it came to the truth.

“Good to see you, Mom,” he said. “You look great.” She did, too. Rachel Murphy was tall, blonde
and fit. She also had one of the best policy minds on the East Coast. She played up her feminine side with color and flowing fabrics and bold jewelry. She said her décolletage had bamboozled more senators into more deals than half the lobbying firms in the city. When he patted her shoulder, he was relieved to feel the familiar taut muscles earned from a lifetime of tennis. “Nice and healthy.”

Rachel hugged him back and then straightened, one hand still on his forearm. “Your dad didn’t fill you in on what’s going on, did he? He let you worry?”

He nodded.

“I’m telling you, Cooper. That man knows better than to torment you. The short answer is, it’s your brother. Bailey has gotten himself into a serious mess and I don’t see a way out for him this time. Your dad and Theo are still working out the angles, but I think it’s going to mean resignation—your dad just hasn’t come to grips with that yet.”

“Resignation” sent a jolt through him. A Murphy was going to resign from his Senate seat? What the hell could Bailey have done? His mom and dad lived and breathed the Senate—they had since long before Cooper was born. His mom had married into the family, but she seemed just as proud as his dad to remind people there’d been a Murphy in the Senate since 1968.

“Resign, Mom? What happened?”

“It’s not something that happened. It’s something he did. Deliberately and without even considering what it would mean for us. For your father. For his committees. For the votes he has coming up. For anyone.”

She was past furious. Usually the family could count on her to be the voice of reason. Not this time.

“You coming in?” he asked her.

“I’ve given them my opinion already, and frankly, I shouldn’t be around Bailey right now. I would hate for this situation to get any more acrimonious than it already is, but he has really…the idea that someone with his gifts would flush it all—” Rachel patted Cooper’s arm, her face tight with controlled anger. “It’s better for everyone if I stay out of the way for a while.”

“But…” Cooper didn’t know what to say. His entire life, his mom and dad had been the team in charge of the Murphys’ political fortunes. Other families had holiday traditions, annual vacations or shared religion to keep them together. The Murphys had politics. “Don’t you need to—”

“The thing I
don’t
need is to see your brother right now.”

Your brother.
That’s what she used to call Bailey when he was in high school and had taken some
stupid risk or failed to excel in class. At least she hadn’t called him “your goddamn brother.” That was more their dad’s thing.

“Okay. Well. I’ll go in and see what Dad wants.”

She patted his arm again, this time with a tight smile. “You’re going to do fine.”

And that absolutely unreassuring little statement sent his tension soaring.

He was halfway down the hall, a few steps past the dark walnut pocket doors that opened onto the formal living room, when she called after him. “I forgot to ask, did you pick a cake?”

He closed his eyes for half a second but didn’t turn around. “The red velvet was good.”

His mom laughed. “Jorie was right, huh? You’d think you’d trust the wedding planner even if you don’t trust your bride.”

He was going to hate telling her about the wedding. He’d never liked disappointing his mom. As far back as elementary school when he’d rush home to show her his report card, he’d wanted her to be proud of him. It hadn’t always been easy for him. Bailey was the golden boy who’d been marked as their father’s political heir sometime in the few seconds between clearing the birth canal and having the doctor count all his fingers and toes. Other than ending up two inches taller, Cooper had never done anything as well as his brother. If you compared
their driver’s licenses, even the height difference was erased because Bailey shared their father’s more flexible approach to the truth.

Which was probably part of the reason for this meeting. Whatever was going on was bad. Bad enough that his mom wasn’t even speaking to Bailey.

W
HEN HE PUSHED THE DOOR
to the study open, the first thing Cooper noticed was that his brother was standing on the far side of the room, leaning on the low table in front of the window, his back to the other two men. His dad and his cousin Theo were seated together all the way on the opposite side of the room at the library table near the fireplace, notebooks and laptops open, cell phones at their elbows, heads close together as they talked.

Holy crap.
Bailey was already out.

He didn’t care what his mom had said about no decisions having been made. It was one hundred percent clear that his dad and Theo were working on a problem and Bailey…across the room by himself…Bailey
was
that problem. Cooper let his palm rest flat on the heavy swinging door for a moment, the weight of the wood grounding him. He’d grown up knowing his brother was the center of the family universe and now, without warning, Bailey was sidelined. He didn’t know if he should
go to his brother or join his dad and cousin. Nothing about this situation was normal.

“Cooper,” his dad said. “Take a seat. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Bailey didn’t move, still hadn’t looked at him, but his voice was bitter as he said, “You shouldn’t do this to him. Saint Cooper doesn’t know how to say no to you.”

“I’m not the one causing problems,” Nolan said. “Cooper will do what needs to be done. What’s right for the family. He understands what’s expected of him. He’s not the one who’s been carrying on behind his wife’s back with an investment banker who’s going to give birth to his illegitimate child smack in the middle of his reelection campaign!” He practically shouted the last words.

So much for having a lot to cover, Cooper thought. Senator Bailey Murphy of Pennsylvania, married to one woman and having a baby with another. Not much more to explain, was there?

Nolan pointed at the chair next to him. “Let’s go, Cooper. We need you now.”

He stepped into the room, letting the door swish closed behind him, but he didn’t sit down. Bailey still hadn’t turned around. Cooper had grown up worshipping Bailey. He was the kind of magnetic, larger-than-life guy a little brother either hated or idolized. He didn’t inspire moderate reactions in
anyone. Even his election had been a landslide, but then, the voters of Pennsylvania had been making a statement about more than the telegenic, charismatic Murphy heir. Their dad had resigned his seat when he’d been tapped as a vice-presidential nominee. It had been an enormous coup, but marked the end of his career when his ticket got crushed in the election. He’d thrown his weight behind Bailey as the Senate candidate in the special election to fill his seat, and the voters of Pennsylvania turned out to honor him by electing his son.

Working with and for Bailey the past six years had deepened his relationship with his brother, but Cooper didn’t exactly worship him anymore. He still loved him. He admired him, and more than anything else, he knew him. Bailey was in pain. The way he’d lashed out now meant that whatever he’d done, it hadn’t been a whim. His brother was serious.

“Well, since I’m not married, it stands to reason I couldn’t mess around with anyone, much less an investment banker, behind my wife’s back,” Cooper said. “Besides, I’ve never been a money guy.”

“See?” the bitterness was still in Bailey’s voice. “I told you to leave him out of this—he doesn’t want to be involved.”

“And I told you to shut up about two hours ago,” Nolan said. “Try to see if you can do a better job
keeping your mouth zipped than you did with your pants.”

Cooper winced, but he could hear the hurt in his father’s tone. His dad swore he only had high expectations for Bailey because he was capable of meeting them. Nothing made him angrier than the thought that Bailey was throwing away opportunities.

Theo tapped his pen on the table. “Whoa, guys, we agreed sniping at each other wasn’t productive.” He was wearing jeans and a hoodie from Georgetown and his Steelers cap was turned backward, but he still managed to sound like the three-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyer he was. “Let’s get Cooper up to speed and then we’ll see where to go next. The clock is ticking—the more time we waste, the bigger chance we have of losing our one shot at spinning this our way.”