Let's Misbehave (25 page)

“Michaela was the rock. She held steady when we were insane. You took her place after she died, when really I should have.” Valerie’s eyes filled. “I was lazy and a coward and let you step into the role so I wouldn’t have to.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said softly, brushing a tear that rolled down her cheek.

“I know, but it wasn’t fair to you.” She swiped at her face impatiently. “Insanity was your gift to the world.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that,” he said, amused, soothing her back.

“You know what I mean. You gave the world passion. You loved to play music, Merrick. Yes, you got detoured with the partying, but your love of music never wavered. You lit everyone up with your fire, and I snuffed your flame.”

He knew better than to grin. “You’re being a touch dramatic, aren’t you?”

“How can you say that? I helped you bury your muse the day we buried Michaela.” She looked up at him, the saddest he’d seen her since Michaela’s funeral. “When I heard you playing the other day, I had such hope that you’d reclaim that part of yourself.”

He glanced up at the ceiling, as though he had X-ray vision to the next floor. The longing felt like a boulder on his chest that he couldn’t push off. It’d been the only thing saving him since Imogen had cut him loose.

“Michaela dying was a tragedy,” Valerie said, “but it was compounded by the death of your music, too. You think you could have prevented Michaela from dying, and I understand that, but I think it was just her time. Your music’s death?
That
could have been prevented. By both you and me.”

He swallowed thickly, uncertain what to say.

Valerie cupped his face. “I’m not saying you should take up music again as a career, but don’t deny your love for it.”

His fingers flexed as if in reaction to her words. He just nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do more than think about it. I will, too.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going to ask Joan to marry me.”

He blinked. “Valerie. That’s brilliant.”

“I’ve been hiding from life since Michaela died. I was afraid to love and lose again, but in the process, I not only lost you, I also lost myself. Michaela would have been so disgusted with us.” She gave a watery smile. “I couldn’t lecture you about love and life without stepping up, could I?”

“No, I guess not,” he murmured.

“Okay.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m going to make sure I don’t look like a racoon and then we can leave, all right?”

Merrick watched her walk to the bathroom, her step lighter. She’d managed to shove her boulder off. He was happy for her.

He was also bloody jealous.

Dinner tonight, he reminded himself, with Lawrence Howell. He needed to focus—tonight was his chance.

Why Lawrence Howell had called him this week and invited him to dinner, Merrick had no idea, but he was rolling with it. He’d have thought his recent appearances in the tabloids would have made Howell run in the other direction.

Once Valerie returned composed, they drove to the restaurant Howell had chosen. It was popular among the other MPs, and Merrick had been there before, but it wasn’t the sort of place Valerie went to. Stuffy and conservative, he expected Valerie to point out that it was the sort of place her parents frequented.

But she hung on to his arm and followed him in, a supportive smile on her face.

The hostess showed them to the table were Howell and his wife were seated. Howell stood, his gaze steady, obviously taking Merrick’s measure, and held his hand out. “Graham, I bet you never saw this day happening.”

Merrick chuckled. “You’d have that right, sir.”

“Larry, please. And this is my wife Silvia.”

Merrick shook her hand and introduced Valerie, who murmured politely and sat. After the waiter came around and took their drink orders, Larry turned to Merrick. “You’re probably wondering why I called you.”

He nodded. “The question crossed my mind.”

“Jacqueline Summerhill is a dear friend of ours. Actually, I courted Jacqueline in her youth. My, she was lovely. Still is.” Larry took his wife’s hand in his. “I found a rarer gem in Silvia though.”

His wife blushed, and Merrick heard Valerie sigh next to him.

“Jacqueline asked me to meet you,” Larry said. “Jacqueline is a smart, discerning woman. She picks her friends carefully, so if she likes you, there must be something more to you than the one-dimensional politician I’ve seen myself.”

“Thank you, I think.”

Grinning, Larry clapped a hand on his back. “We’ll let the ladies talk. Tell me about this safety bill of yours.”

He’d practiced so many times for this moment, but now that it was here he felt off-balance and clumsy. He’d never met Jacqueline Summerhill, so she’d obviously done this at Imogen’s urging.

He didn’t know what that meant, but it felt significant.

Somehow he muddled through dinner even though it was all he could do not to excuse himself and call her. He had to force himself to sit and pay attention to dinner.

It didn’t end too soon. He thanked Silvia and faced Larry.

“I’d like a copy of your proposal,” the older man said as he shook Merrick’s hand. “I like the sound of it. If the numbers work, I’ll see what we can do about securing favor.”

“I’ll forward it to you Monday.”

“Excellent.” Larry leaned in. “Valerie is really just a friend, isn’t she?”

“Yes, sir. My best friend for years.” He studied the man. “Most people don’t see that.”

“Most people don’t look.”

Merrick leaned in. “Can I tell you a secret?”

The man’s eyes widened. “Please.”

“You must know Imogen Summerhill.”

“Jacqueline’s fourth daughter? No, her fifth daughter. The only thing Reginald Summerhill was ever good at was having girls.” Larry shook his head. “All of Jacqueline’s daughters are stunning. Imogen is the actress, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Merrick looked the man in the eye. “She’s more than a friend to me.”

Larry smiled. “And what are you doing about that, son?”

“Nothing yet, but I’m going to change that.”

“Excellent.” Larry thumped his back one more time and then escorted his wife out.

As Merrick and Valerie followed, she leaned in to him and whispered. “What was that about?”

“I told him I was going to marry Imogen.”

Valerie stopped, so he almost ran into her. She grabbed his shirt at the collar. “You told some old man you don’t know before you asked her? What are you, an idiot?”

“I didn’t tell him exactly.” He frowned. “And you told me you want to marry Joan before you told her.”

“Yes, but that’s different.” Valerie rolled her eyes to the sky and mumbled. Then she hooked her arm in his and dragged him out of the restaurant.

“What are we doing?” he dared to ask as she flagged a taxi.

“We need to plan our strategy.” Valerie frowned at him. “Have you even told her you love her?”

He tried to recall.

Shaking her head, she opened the door to the car that pulled up. “You are
so
lucky I’m here for you, Merrick.”

He smiled. “I know.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Holly walked down the hallway of Jamie’s former school. It was a completely different journey when what waited for her at the end was happiness and not punishment.

At least she hoped it’d be a happily ever after for her.

Just hoping that it’d happen was one of her biggest victories. The other was her new job. She’d started working for Beatrice yesterday, and already she knew it was going to be so cool, as Jamie would say.

She waved to the school secretary, who waved back with a confused expression. Points to her for not looking horrified, figuring Holly was there to get Jamie back in school.

Holly tossed the red apple in her hand in the air and caught it. She wasn’t there to deal with Jamie’s mistakes. This time, she was dealing with hers.

She walked right up to Peter’s door and knocked on it.

It took him a moment to answer it. He yanked it open, his furrowed brows creasing even more when he saw it was her. “Holly.”

His hair looked like he’d run his hands through it hundreds of times, and he had a shadow of stubble, as though he hadn’t shaved today. She wondered if it was strange, wanting to feel the scratchiness on her skin. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“I’m the headteacher. It’s always a bad time.” He smiled wryly. “Wait just a second while I finish up here.”

“Okay.” She went and sat on a chair across the hall, the apple in her hand. He hadn’t told her to go away—that had to be a good sign.

She hoped.

After what seemed like forever but was only five minutes or so, his office door opened and a boy shuffled out, head hanging. Peter appeared in the doorway. “Holly?”

She walked into his office and sat in her usual chair out of habit. Then she stood. She didn’t think her nerves would let her sit.

“Is everything okay with Jamie?” Peter asked as he closed the door and joined her.

“Yes.” She smiled happily. “Jamie started the new school yesterday. Last night he couldn’t stop talking about it. They have a robotics class for older students, but they’re letting him attend because they think he might be advanced enough for it.”

“It sounds like he’s already carving a space for himself.” Peter smiled as he perched on the edge of his desk.

“Thank you, for arranging it.” She smiled. “He’ll probably still break things, but at least they’ll expect it there.”

Peter nodded. “So what brings you here?”

She held out the apple.

He stared at it for a long time before he took it. “You thought I wanted a snack?”

“It’s customary to take your teacher an apple.”

He rolled the apple in his hand. “I’m not your teacher.”

“No, but I’ve learned from you.” She dared to take a step closer. “I was hoping you’d teach me the things I still obviously need to learn.”

“Like?”

“Like how to believe in the future. And how to trust, in life and another person.” She gazed at him steadily. “And maybe there are some things we can study together.”

He stood, standing directly in front of her. “I take study seriously.”

She nodded, her heart lifting as hope bloomed into something stronger. “I’m very studious.”

He wound his arms around her. “And it’s a long-term course. I only take students who can commit to the full term.”

“I don’t see that as a problem.” She pressed herself against him. “But sometimes I may need a firm hand.”

“Holly, I’m nothing but firm around you.” He lowered his lips to hers and showed her.

Chapter Thirty

Gigi soaked in the bathtub, resting her head back on a bath pillow Summer had lent her. The bubble bath was a contribution from Fran, the candles from her mother. It seemed the entire household was making a team effort to help her relax.

Relaxing had been her mission this past week, especially once it became obvious trying so hard to make life happen wasn’t working for her. In the few days since she’d slowed down, she had some realizations.

The major one was that she wasn’t cut out for relaxation. She was a doer, and when she wasn’t doing, she was miserable. She didn’t have to do work things all the time, but she needed something.

She’d found an organization that she was going to give time to: Wine Women & Shoes. WW&S partnered with charities that helped women and children to raise money in a fun, entertaining way. They were just expanding overseas, and their London event was to benefit a literacy non-profit. Gigi had already contacted the director to see how she could be involved.

But soon she’d be on set, too—she’d accepted the role in the Cole Porter remake. Everyone was happy: the studio, Craig, and Betty. Even Gigi was hopeful about this decision.

The door to the bathroom opened and Titania burst into the room. She looked on a mission, her camera gripped in one hand and her mouth set in a determined line. The only thing that belied her apparent haste was the humorous light in her eyes.

“I’m taking a relaxing bath,” Gigi pointed out calmly, not lifting her head.

“You want to see what’s going on outside.” Her sister grabbed a towel off the hook and threw it at Gigi’s head.

Gigi caught it before it hit her or the water. “Tawny—”

“Really, Gi, come and see. I promise it’ll be worth disturbing your bath,” she tossed over her shoulder as she strode out.

“Fine,” she muttered, rising from the tub. She wrapped the towel around her, heedless of the water dripping on the floor. She padded into her bedroom. Titania hung out the window so the only thing visible of her was her jean-clad rear end.

“Amazing,” she heard Titania mutter as she lifted her camera and began to take pictures.

It was probably someone wearing the perfect shade of red against a red car. Gigi rolled her eyes.

But then she heard the music.

It started out soft, strains of a piano.

“That’s ‘Love Leaves Dreaming,’“ she exclaimed, recognizing the tune.
Merrick
. She pushed Titania over. “Move.”

“Ow. Stop,” her sister said, not sounding like she meant it as she scooted over enough to allow Gigi to fit in the window as well.

Her gaze went directly to Merrick. He was in the middle of their walkway, sitting behind a baby grand that was parked on the sidewalk.

He looked different.

It was more than his shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal the tattoo on his forearm. It was more than the tousled hair or the leather jacket he wore.

It was in his expression. He was still Merrick, but he looked at peace, as though two parts of him had come together to form a whole.

He focused on her window, his face somber as his fingers expertly coaxed the song from the piano. His gaze, though, was full of passion and only for her.

“He’s waiting for me,” she said in wonder.

“No wonder they say you’re a genius,” her sister said.

She knocked her sister in the ribs, watching the way the tension around his mouth eased when he saw her. Nodding at her, he began to sing the song she’d loved so much as an adolescent.

An empty room.