Married by June (6 page)

Alice chewed slowly as she stared at Jorie. The declaration lingered in the air, so heavy Jorie could almost see it.

She’d dated guys before and always the breakup had included an undercurrent of relief that she could reclaim her single life. This time was different. She didn’t want her old life back. She wanted Cooper. She wanted the life he’d described in her fairy tale. She wanted to love him and to have every happy moment her mom had wished for her. She wanted this awful year not to have an awful ending, but the
hopeful one her mother had envisioned for her when she died.

“What’s the plan?”

“I’m not sure. I need precedents. Women have been jilted before, right? What are the options for getting the guy to come back?”

And with that simple question, they were off, considering ideas and alternatives with the same connection they enjoyed when they discussed wedding plans. This was one of the reasons she’d become friends with Alice in the first place—they’d had such a good time working together professionally.

“You could pull a fake pregnancy, like in
Officer and a Gentleman,
” Alice said.

“Except the fake pregnant lady is not the one Richard Gere swoops in and carries out of the factory at the end.”

“I love that scene,” Alice said. “It’s incredibly cheesy, but I love everything about it.”

“The Navy uniform helps.”

“It certainly doesn’t hurt. Cooper doesn’t have a uniform, does he?”

“Not unless you count the lucky khakis he wears to poker night.”

“What if you tried a
Pretty Woman?
” Alice tapped her fingers on her thigh. “She ends up with the guy at the end.”

“What? Reinvent myself?”

“No. That won’t work. She goes from streetwalker to classy lady. You’re already way classy. If you reinvent yourself, you’d have to become a streetwalker and we don’t want that.”

“Did anyone ever go from classy to trashy and still get the guy? Is that even possible?”

“
Grease
maybe. Right? Sandy swaps the poodle skirts for that slinky, full-body leotard thing and the hooker heels.”

“And the gang gets together and dances their way through the senior carnival?” She’d never had the kind of optimism a movie musical required. “Cooper’s no John Travolta.”

“No?” Alice looked interested. “He’s so tall. I assumed he’d be good at sports. Although dancing isn’t exactly a sport, is it?”

“He plays baseball, but that’s not really a graceful kind of game. With dancing, I always think it’s almost like he never got used to being that tall.” Jorie smiled, thinking about the one time they’d gone dancing together. Cooper had been so earnest, but so awkward. She pressed her hand to her top lip. She hadn’t cried in such a long time, tears would almost be a relief, but they didn’t come.

Alice’s fingers tapped again. “Okay. No dancing.”

They were both quiet for a moment. There had to be something. Some way she could get Cooper to sit up and pay attention. Some way she could
convince him that no matter what he thought about her, about them, they deserved a second chance. He believed she’d been with him for the wrong reasons. She needed to get his attention so she could demand another try.

“Say Anything.”

“I’m thinking,” Alice said.

“No. The movie.
Say Anything.
It’s from 1990 or something and John Cusack is that adorable loser with the trench coat. He falls in love with the most gorgeous girl in school and he has to woo her.”

“Lloyd Dobler,” Alice said. “The antihero.”

“Remember the boom box scene? He stands outside her window and plays that sappy song?”

“Oh, yeah. I bet wedding planners got sick of that song that year. What are you going to do, stand outside Cooper’s place and hold up your iPod?”

“No. I don’t mean the music. I mean Lloyd. John Cusack. It was just him, holding up the boom box and being there. He let her know he wanted her. No tricks. Right? He just went for it. Take me as I am.”

Alice still seemed confused.

“I’m just going to say it,” Jorie explained. “‘Cooper, I want to try again.’”

“Flat out tell him?”

“Flat out.”

“That doesn’t leave you a back door,” Alice said.
“No escape hatch or second option. If he says no, you’re cooked.”

“The trouble is, all the other options feel like lying or cheating or manipulating him. If I go over-the-top romantic and he says yes, I’ll always wonder if he said yes to me or to the romance, because we all know he can’t refuse romance. If I beg or cry, not only would I have to live with the knowledge that I’d acted just like my mom, but I’d always wonder if he said yes out of pity.” Alice nodded and Jorie went on. “We got engaged the first time because of my mom’s wish. This time, he has to say yes because
he
wants to. No strings attached.”

There was one thing she wasn’t saying. One thing she was sure no one knew because she’d done everything she could to keep it a secret. It was something she didn’t like about herself, but had never been able to shake, no matter how many conversations she’d had with herself about growing up and living for herself and being independent. Deep down, she wanted Cooper to say yes because he wanted her. Jorie wanted to be chosen—flat out, straight up be cause he wanted her. She’d thought that was what she’d gotten the first time. This time she was going to be utterly sure of it or she was not marrying him. Anything less would break her heart.

Not that she was planning to mention her heart.
He didn’t need to know how hurt she already was. He just needed to say yes.

“You’re going to have to do it in person.”

“And quick. Before he tells a lot of people.” She thought about Cooper telling his mom and dad or Bailey. What would they say? Would anyone try to talk him out of the decision or would they all be thankful he’d gotten out while he could? “I’ll go over tomorrow morning before he leaves for work.”

“Okay, you have your plan. Now let’s talk about you.” Alice leaned back on the couch, her hands folded across her stomach. “This afternoon you said you stink at relationships. But that’s not true. You have really good friends.”

“Yes, and what do they all have in common?”

“They want you to be happy?”

“None of them are my fiancé!”

Alice looked puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“You know. Men. Every serious relationship I’ve ever had has fallen apart because I don’t know how to be in a serious relationship. I have my mom’s bad example and all her baggage to tell me what not to do, but I still don’t know how to do it right.”

“Be yourself.”

“Now you sound like a pamphlet in the middle school guidance office.”

Alice pursed her lips. “You need to give yourself a break and stop thinking.”

She’d already done that. The night Cooper asked her to marry him. She’d known all the reasons it was a bad idea and she’d tried to make him see that, but he wouldn’t. He’d given her the fairy tale he wrote, describing the life he’d imagined for them. He’d asked her to take a leap and she had.

“I stopped thinking the first time I got engaged. I can’t afford to do that again.”

“Okay.” Alice stood. “I disagree, but I know you’ll figure this out. I’ll leave the cake. It’s a very nutritious breakfast.”

Jorie smiled. Her mom would have had a conniption if she knew Jorie started her day with carbs. On the rare occasion that Chelsea ate breakfast, it was an egg-white omelet. That is, a single white, from a single egg, omelet. If she was particularly hungry, she might cut some chives into it.

“Cake for breakfast sounds perfect.” Jorie stood, too. In fact, she was feeling quite a bit better. At the front door, Alice paused and then hugged her. Jorie wasn’t expecting it, but it felt good. She squeezed the other woman back. “Thanks for coming by. I appreciate it.”

“You’re going to be fine, Jorie. If Cooper doesn’t open his eyes and see the amazing person he’s giving up, then you deserve someone better anyway. But
he’s going to say yes and then you’ll work this out.” Alice waved as she started down the steps.

Jorie was about to close the door when she heard her friend say, “Cooper! What a surprise!”

Since Jorie couldn’t hear his reply, he must be a distance away.

Once she got over her shock, she realized her friend was practically shouting. Alice wanted her to know Cooper was coming down the street.
Why, why hadn’t she changed her clothes?
She could have excused herself for a minute and then she wouldn’t be stuck standing at the front door in these horrible sweat pants, practically screaming to the world that she’d spent the afternoon being depressed.

Maybe he wasn’t coming to see her. Maybe he had errands to run at the Market or he wanted to get takeout from the Thai place on the corner or maybe he’d already met a new girlfriend and she lived on the block and they were going to run into each other all the time, nodding politely when they met on the street.

Or maybe she was going crazy. She whirled around, prepared to slam the door, but it was too late. He was there, right there on the sidewalk, walking toward her. For a guy who couldn’t dance, he had a very sexy walk, understated but with an incredible shoulder and hip swagger. She swallowed.

“Jorie,” he said as he came up the stone stairs.

“Cooper.”

The beauty of a simple plan was it didn’t need an elaborate setup or special setting. She’d planned on tomorrow, but he was here now and there was nothing to stop her from starting the rest of her life immediately.

Nothing except she wasn’t dressed right. He should have called and asked her to meet him somewhere and she could have dressed in something devastating and she’d have rehearsed what to say and then she’d be in charge, instead of feeling like a complete loser in her own foyer.

This was why her mother had taught her to always consider her clothing. Chelsea had never even owned sweats and a T-shirt.

He wasn’t wearing a tie and the top button of his shirt was undone. She’d told Alice the truth—he was one of the worst dancers she’d ever dated, too tall, too awkward, too aware of his own feet and not other people’s, but standing in her doorway in a suit, he looked exactly perfect. He wore clothes the way a model did, as if they’d been made for him. He looked smart and strong and in charge. And that was why she’d considered maybe falling in love with him—right before he’d asked her to marry him and ruined everything.

She forgot about her sweatpants and focused on his eyes. She and Alice had organized the attack
and it was the right thing to do. Bite the bullet, she thought. Do it now before he has a chance to say something that would ruin it all and send her searching for a new option. She really didn’t want to have to go the Sandy-in-
Grease
-full-body-leotard route.

“I think we should get back together.”

Either there was an echo in her foyer or they’d just spoken the exact same words.
In unison.

S
HE LOOKED…A MESS.
He didn’t know what he’d expected—that he would break off their engagement and she’d go right along with her normal life? God knows that hadn’t happened for him, so why should it have happened for her? This was Jorie, though. She never looked a mess. If someone had shown him that particular Dirty Bird Bar T-shirt with the holes in the shoulder seams and asked him if it belonged to Jorie, he’d have laughed. And yet, there she was wearing it along with a pair of sweatpants that had even more holes. He got a sweet glimpse of her pale thigh.

“You look great.” The words slipped out, and her mouth dropped open, but he meant it. What else didn’t he know about her?

He was turned-on thinking about a younger Jorie doing shots at a shore bar in that clingy T-shirt.
My God, what else don’t I know about myself?

“Can I come in?”

“No,” she said, but then quickly relented. “Yes.”

She stepped aside and followed him into the
house, closing the door behind him. In the living room, a cake stand and two crumb-covered plates were on the coffee table next to a bowl full of what looked like bright orange popcorn. The cake made sense since Alice had been there. But the orange popcorn? Jorie didn’t eat junk food. There were purplish smudges under her eyes that made the blue deeper, but he couldn’t remember when he’d last seen her without those shadows. Back before her mom died, he guessed.

He remembered her fingers on his wrist that afternoon. She’d held on to him. At least for that moment, she’d wanted him to stay. Was it fair to ask her to become fake engaged if she was unhappy about the breakup?

He didn’t have a choice, knowing what he did about Bailey and his family, but he didn’t like the way he felt right now. He’d made a mess of the situation at the bakery. He was going to have to be much more on top of his game if he wanted to convince her to go along with his plan.

She grabbed the bowl off the table and the two dirty plates and took them into the kitchen. He stayed in the living room, unsure what he was supposed to do.

“Cooper?” she called.

She walked toward him and stopped, one hand on the door frame.

“What?”

“Are you insane?”

“No.”
Not yet.
But the night wasn’t over and he wasn’t ruling anything out at this point. Especially not when he still had to secure a fake engagement and then strategize with his dad about what really amounted to a fake appointment to the Senate.

“Well, do you have some kind of compulsive mind-changing disorder, because the only other option is that you’re purposely trying to make me nuts and I know you wouldn’t do that.” Her voice rose as she neared him. She stopped a few steps away. The T-shirt not only had holes, it was a little too small and he could clearly see her breasts moving up and down as she breathed quickly.

She had a hot body. People didn’t notice that about her right away, partly because her sophisticated, classy wardrobe put up such a serious front, but he suspected she hid her sexuality on purpose. Her mom had been much more feminine and overtly sexual. He’d noticed Jorie, though. It hadn’t taken him more than five seconds to become aware of her curves on their first blind date. He’d expected to have to work on her for a while before he’d get his hands on her—she gave off a vibe of being controlled—but she’d surprised him that night. It was the one and only time he’d had sex on the first date
and it had been one of the most amazing nights of his life.

“Cooper!” she said sharply, bringing his focus back to the question at hand. “Are. You. Insane?”

Her interpretation was fair. He was flip-flopping more than a congressman whose district lines had been redrawn. He wouldn’t be here if not for the election, and he knew it, but he was stung by her anger, nonetheless. “I don’t think so. Your opinion might differ.”

She tugged on her T-shirt and glared at him. “Would you like a drink? I’m suddenly in the mood for alcohol.”

The one beer he’d had in the kitchen with Bailey hadn’t been nearly enough for a day like this, so he asked her for a Scotch. An antique, glass-fronted buffet on the far wall of the living room was her bar. She opened one door and pulled out two crystal rocks glasses and a small, silver ice bucket. As she crossed in front of him to get to the kitchen, she muttered, “You can sit down, you know. There’s cake.”

He moved to the couch, but didn’t touch the cake. Instead, he watched in silence as she returned with the full ice bucket and then poured the drinks. Jorie loved formal rituals. She’d never put the ice directly into her glass if she could use the ice bucket. She’d always reach for the cake stand first and then offer
you a real china plate and the right size fork. The way she moved so confidently, using the tongs to put exactly three ice cubes in her glass and leaving his straight, was typical of her. She could be wearing nothing but a garbage bag and she’d still make their drinks with a perfect country-club flourish. Her mom had taught her that presentation mattered, and he was pretty sure that for Jorie, knowing the etiquette of a situation was soothing, not stifling, the way it would be for some people. He’d always liked watching her move gracefully and competently through everyday tasks, but tonight he felt sick watching her hands. She’d already taken off his ring.

She handed his drink to him and retreated across the room to sit in the pink slipper chair near the door to her bedroom. That put the coffee table and the entire width of the Oriental rug between them. He was surprised she didn’t keep going, into the bedroom or even out the window, since it seemed she couldn’t stand to be near him.

He should have brought flowers. Or something. Now that he was here, facing Jorie, who was unmistakably, justifiably angry, who wasn’t wearing his ring, he wasn’t sure how to start. He wished he’d fleshed out the plan in his notebook, because he could use an actual opening statement right about
now. She solved the problem for him by asking, “Did you really say we should get back together?”

There was no way to ease into this and no sense trying to woo her. She’d proved impervious to his romantic schemes time and again.

“Bailey has to resign. His marriage is over. He’s got a girlfriend and she’s pregnant. The story’s going to break tomorrow at the latest.” That covered the first point he’d written down.
Bailey.
Next up, his appointment to the Senate and then their need to become reengaged. Or would it be more like annulling the breakup? Either way, he’d left the hardest part for last.

J
ORIE TOOK A SWALLOW
of Scotch. She’d only poured the drinks to have something to do while she collected herself after the shock of hearing him say they should get back together. But the news about Bailey threw her. Now that she took a better look, she saw that Cooper’s knuckles were white where he gripped his glass and his shoulders slumped as if he’d been carrying something heavy and just set it down. He was really upset, and no wonder. From the first time she’d gone out for drinks with him and his brother, she’d had a crush on their relationship.

His family was defined by their legacy and place in the world. Being a Murphy from Pennsylvania meant something and everyone they met knew it.
She’d never even been remotely tempted to give up her name and take her husband’s until she was engaged to Cooper. Becoming a Murphy meant she was joining a family with a history of belonging somewhere and she’d always envied families with a settled place in the world. If Bailey resigned from the Senate, where did that leave Cooper?

“I’m flabbergasted,” she said. “When did you find out?”

“My dad called me in for a summit meeting right after I, um, left you at Alice’s.”

He moved the beaded throw pillow from behind his back and tucked it down by the arm of the couch. At least he had the good manners to look uncomfortable when he mentioned the cake tasting. This was why she hated scenes in her home. She loved that pillow, but now every time she saw it, she’d think of Cooper and his expression while he explained about Bailey. She should have made him wait while she changed so they could go out and have this crazy conversation somewhere far from her home.

“How’s your mom taking it?” she asked.

“Not good.”

“Your dad?”

He lifted his glass in a toast and took a long swallow.

“Bailey?”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s happy.”

“Even though he…”

“He says he’s in love.”

They both took sips of their drinks to avoid having to address the question of who might or might not be in love at the moment.

“And this has something to do with our wedding obviously, since you want to rewind the whole breaking-up thing, but I’m not sure I see why.” A voice inside her head was screaming for her to just take his offer. It was what she’d wanted. But she needed to know what he was thinking and exactly what she was getting into.

“My dad is on the phone right now trying to make sure I’m the appointee.”

She put her drink down on the table next to her. The last thing she needed was alcohol. Her mind was spinning with everything he’d said since she opened the door, but she had a sick feeling she was starting to understand.

She got up to get a coaster from the sideboard. It gave her a chance to turn her back and compose herself before she asked her next question. She lifted her drink and put the thick glass square tile underneath it and then sat down. “Appointee to the Senate?”

He blushed. Cooper was too poised and too socially adept to blush often. In fact, the only times she ever saw him uncomfortable were when he received
a compliment he wasn’t able to deflect. Whatever else was going on here, he was happy about being chosen for the seat. Her mom would have eaten this news up with a spoon. Her daughter and a senator. Except…yeah. Not anymore.

“That’s amazing, Cooper. You must be so proud.”

He shifted again. “It’s a temporary appointment. My dad wants me to hold the seat for a few months because Theo is too young to take it. He’ll get the nomination for the general election, though, so I’ll be out by January when he gets sworn in.”

“Theo? But you have more experience than him, don’t you?” While she liked Theo and there was no denying his intelligence or his wit, Cooper had been working in his brother’s office for years and was already thirty-four, plenty old enough for the Senate. For a moment she forgot everything else in her irritation with Nolan Murphy. He had to be behind this. The entire family deferred to him, and he didn’t, in her opinion, value Cooper enough. Bailey had always been the golden child and Cooper content to be his backup. So content that he probably hadn’t even protested when Nolan declared Theo would get the job, not him.

“It’s a lot of insider politicking,” Cooper said. “But I have to do it, Jorie. My brother screwed up big-time. He left the entire family hanging, and if we can’t hold the seat until Theo can run, I don’t…I
can’t see how Bay’s going to be able to fix his relationship with my parents. He’s going to have a baby. Can you believe that? And I don’t want him to have to raise the kid without the family. Bailey is sick of being a Murphy right now, but he’s going to need us. I have to do what I can to help hold the seat or I’m afraid my parents will cut him off for good.”

There was a lot about her own childhood that had been unsettled, but the one thing she’d never doubted was her mom’s love. When Jorie was nine, her mom had been involved with a guy who owned a tobacco farm in Virginia, a partnership in a hedge fund, and a racing stable in Kentucky. He traveled every week, constantly moving to keep his thumb on the pulse of each business. He got frustrated when Chelsea wouldn’t travel with him as much as he wanted because Jorie was in school.

One night, she’d been up late, reading
Caddie Woodlawn
under the covers with a flashlight, when she’d heard her mom arguing with the guy… Curtis was his name. Curtis wanted to send Jorie to boarding school but Chelsea refused. There’d been a long, tense argument. She couldn’t hear the whole thing, but her mom had repeatedly said, “She’s my daughter.” They hadn’t moved out right away. Her mom’s affairs rarely ended in blow-ups, but within two months the relationship was over and they were in Arizona, staying with her mom’s
old college roommate at the spa she owned. They always ended up there when her mom was in what she called a regrouping phase.

As focused as her mother had been on finding Mr. Right, she’d put Jorie first every time. Jorie had never doubted her place in her mom’s heart. She couldn’t imagine how Cooper was feeling now, knowing that his parents might cut Bailey off.

She almost asked if it was a real possibility, because surely not even Nolan and Rachel Murphy would sever their relationship with a son over politics, but she didn’t. Cooper believed it was possible and was throwing himself into the breach to fix the situation. Acting with his heart, not his head. She wouldn’t have expected anything different. He was going to do everything he could to help keep his family together.

Even if it meant getting back together with her. She folded her arms across her stomach and waited to hear what he had to say.

“I know this is a lot to ask and I know I have no right to do it, but if I’m going to get the appointment, I can’t be in the middle of a broken engagement. We don’t have to actually get married. We’ll postpone the ceremony and then bow out gracefully as soon as we can. The longest it would be is until after the election in November or maybe the inauguration.” He was looking at the drink in his hands, not at her,
as he went on with less animation. “If we break up now, with Bailey’s problems in the news, it’s going to be a big story. If we wait, maybe we can control the damage. No one will notice.”

“Stop.” She curled her fingers into the sides of her T-shirt, desperate to hold on to something. “How did this happen?” she asked quietly. If she was ever going to be able to cry again, surely this was the moment, but the tears didn’t come. “How did we get to be people who have to ‘control the damage’ around our wedding? When we got engaged, we were in love, right?”

“We were trying to do the right thing.”