Prince Charming Can Wait (Ever After) (11 page)

Chloe made a choking sound. "You got married to adopt Mattie? Tell me I'm wrong. For God's sake, Emma, tell me you didn't do something that foolish—"

"I got married to a man who makes me feel safe," she snapped. "I'm not afraid when I'm with him, and that is such a huge gift! Stop judging me! Marrying Harlan was the right thing for me to do, so can you try and be happy for me?"

There was a long silence. "You're right," Chloe said softly. "Sorry, Em. I just get protective of you. The first time I met you was the day you moved back to town when you had just left Preston. I'll never forget the dark circles under your eyes, or how thin you were. I don't want you to go back there."

Emma's anger faded, and she sagged back onto the bed. "I know, and I appreciate it. But Harlan is different. He has as much baggage as I do. We understand each other, but there's no pressure. It's good."

Chloe took a deep breath. "Okay, I accept that, but I want to meet him. Soon."

Yeah, that would happen... A tinge of fear echoed through her at the thought of Harlan on his way to the mission that he was so sure would kill him, but she pushed it aside. She hadn't agreed to love him, just to notice when he died. "I am serious, though, Chloe. I'm married now, and I want to adopt Mattie."

Chloe let out a small groan. "Emma—"

"What do I need to do to be considered?"

"You're not family—"

"Do
you
think she should be with me, or with one of her relatives?"

For a long moment, Chloe didn't speak, and Emma started to tense. She needed Chloe's support to have any chance at all of making it happen. After an agonizing delay, Chloe finally answered. "If you convince me that you really love Mattie and you're willing to commit to her for the rest of your life...well...I think you'd be a wonderful mom for her."

Emma's throat tightened. "Thank you."

"But I'll be honest. I'm not convinced of that, and the judge will be even tougher to win over. You're not exactly stable these days in terms of your personal situation."

Emma's fingers tightened around the stem of the roses. "Chloe—"

"But," Chloe interrupted. "I will make some phone calls and get back to you. Okay?"

Emma bit her lip, and she forced her hand to relax its death grip on her flower. "Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome. And, Emma?"

She stared at the roses, a dull ache beginning to pulse in her chest as the enormity of last night began to settle upon her. What had she done?

"If you're really happy with Harlan, and it's the right choice, then congratulations."

"Thanks." But her words felt empty.

"I'll be in touch. Take it day by day. You'll get there."

"Get where?"

"Wherever it is you're going." Chloe disconnected without another word, and Emma sat on the bed for another minute, the rose sprig still clutched numbly in her hand. Chloe's reaction had been like a cold blanket dropping over her head and suffocating her. Last night, marrying Harlan had seemed like the perfect solution for both of them. Unconventional, yes, but conventional had already betrayed her.

By marrying Harlan, she'd get his protection, a husband who wouldn't be there to hurt her, and a chance to change Mattie's life. But in reality, what did she have? She was shackled to a man she didn't know, and maybe no closer to rescuing Mattie from a life that was too similar to her own...and if Harlan chose to come back and claim her, she could be in for another round of hell.

What had she done?

With a groan, she flopped back on the bed, staring at the rough wooden beams spanning her ceiling. The sheets were tousled beneath her, and his scent drifted up from the covers. Her cheeks burned at the memory of their lovemaking, how she'd given herself completely to him on every level. She hadn't even given herself to Preston that completely. Was Chloe right? Was she just losing her mind because of the divorce? No, she wasn't. Her heart ached for Mattie, and that wasn't only because she was finally liberated from Preston. She loved Mattie just because of who she was.

And Harlan...the lovemaking...the marriage...her fear of those things ran too deep. Loneliness would never have gotten her to trust him enough to do that if there wasn't a reason, if there wasn't something about him worth trusting, if there wasn't a connection between them that was deeper than fear.

Harlan Shea was almost a stranger, a man who had intrigued her for years, and yet he'd changed her life. The truth was, Harlan wouldn't be back. He'd made his decision, and he would continue his rescue missions until they took his life. She didn't need to worry about him returning. And it would make a difference with getting approval to adopt Mattie, regardless of Chloe's claims. She'd made the right choice, even if others wouldn't understand that.

And even aside from Mattie, it had been the right decision to give Harlan the gift of having someone care. She knew what it was like to not matter, just like she'd told Mattie, and she'd seen that same aching loneliness in Harlan's eyes. She, Harlan, and Mattie were the same. No one had been there to help her as a child, and it had been agonizingly lonely to be fighting all alone. But if she could help Harlan and Mattie avoid the same fate, then she would do it a thousand times over.

Harlan was gone physically, but she would remember him and honor him, just as he'd wanted. She raised the rose to her lips and pressed a kiss to the tender buds.
Harlan, I promise to cry for you, and I promise to notice when you don't come back.

And she knew she would.

For one night, their lives had crossed paths, and they'd both gotten something they wanted, something they needed, something they burned for.

One night, and then two lives split again. Forever.

But as she stood up to retrieve a vase from her kitchen for the flowers, she couldn't help the brief wave of sadness for what might have been. Then she thought of Preston and a cold chill rippled through her. Never again would she make the mistake of entrusting her life to a man.

Never, ever again.

She would cry for Harlan. She would notice when he didn't come back. She would always remember the night of passion that they'd shared.

But she was glad, so glad, that he was never going to come back for her.

The cigarette smoke was swirling around Harlan as he sat at the bar. Despite the hot sun outside, it was dark and ominous inside. The heat was thick and oppressive, and the place was too crowded. Too many tourists in gaudy colors, and too many locals with shifty eyes, dangerous auras and guns strapped under their arms. It was a bad place to be, which was the reason he and Blue had been called down there. Lots of shit went down in this part of South America.

He glanced at the door, but Blue wasn't there yet. He still had time.

He pulled out his phone and typed a quick email to the woman he'd never met, the one who called the shots for him and Blue, and for all the others.

Renée. I got married. Emma Larson. List her as my emergency contact and next of kin. Her contact info is below.

He jotted down Emma's info, satisfaction growing with each letter he typed. When he finished, he stared at the email for a long time, reading and rereading it. It felt good. Really good. He knew that she'd keep her end of the bargain. She would care. His father's past would not be repeated.

Finally, he hit send. The whoosh as his email was delivered was awesome, absolutely fucking awesome...but at the same time, he felt a slight wash of guilt. Was he a bastard for marrying her just so that someone would notice when he died? Then he thought of the determined gleam in her eyes. No, it hadn't been one-sided. She'd had a reason for getting married, too. Why had she done it? What had been so important to her that she'd been willing to overcome her fear of marriage to shackle herself to some guy who was going to come back to her only in a wooden box, if at all?

Restlessness itched at him, a desire to find out Emma's secrets. For a moment, he considered emailing her, using the address he'd poached from her phone while she'd been sleeping, but he immediately shut down the idea.

Ongoing contact wasn't part of the deal, and he wouldn't change the terms of their agreement. It had been one night, one connection, no ongoing chains holding them both back.

It was what it was.

"Miss me, gorgeous?"

Harlan looked up to see Blue standing beside him. He was wearing a loose khaki shirt, spiffy white pants, polished black shoes, and a Rolex. His blond hair was slicked back, and his blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses. He was ready to play his part. "You look like a pimp," Harlan observed.

"I'm a suave playboy. There's a difference—" Blue cut himself off, staring at Harlan's wrist. "A tat? You don't do tats. Ever. You'd shoot anyone who got within ten feet of you with a needle."

Harlan looked down at the mark he'd just finished getting inked on the underside of his wrist. "Yeah, well, I made an exception."

Whistling in taunting admiration, Blue raised his sunglasses to inspect it. "What is it?"

Harlan brushed his hand over the design. It was less than an inch big, but etched permanently into his flesh. "It's an 'E' with a yellow rose."

"No shit." Blue raised his brows. "Why?"

"So I don't forget." He pushed back from the bar and pulled his hat down over his head. "Come on, let's go. Time to get dirty."

Emma was whistling as she pulled into the driveway of the old Possum Farm later that morning. The huge wooden doors of the barn were flung wide open, and there was lots of activity inside as people worked on their floats for the festival's parade.

It was tradition for the Possum Farm barn to be used as a staging area, and the only people allowed inside were those actually working on the floats. Everyone else in town had to be surprised. Emma had not been in the mood to decorate when Clare had asked her to help update the float for Wright's, but Clare had begged her to paint the scenery to do justice to the store and Clare's cupcake business.

For the last few years, thrusting herself into the merriment of family time had been hard, and now that Clare and Astrid were being helped by their husbands, kids, and step kids, it was even more challenging to make herself participate. But today, it felt different. Not that she was going to tell them that she and Harlan had gotten married, of course, but she didn't need to declare it to the world in order for her to feel good. The private knowledge was enough to galvanize her. The knowledge that Chloe was making calls about Mattie, and the lovely memory of how Harlan had shown her she wasn't entirely dead as a woman were enough to make her feel like the world was a brighter place than it had been only the day before. She didn't need to announce it to everyone to make it real for herself.

And as for that good emotional place that Chloe had wished her luck reaching? Emma was already there. Everything was working out just right.

She loaded painting supplies into a wheelbarrow at the edge of the driveway, and cheerfully wheeled it into the barn. The Wright's float was at the back, and she could see Clare and Astrid arguing good naturedly with Clare's daughter, Katie, and her stepdaughter, Brooke, with animated hand gestures. Artistic differences no doubt, which Emma would raise to new heights as the only actual paint artist in the group. Clare's cupcakes were works of art, as were Astrid's jewelry pieces, but when it came to paintbrushes, Emma was the one with the goods. "Hi, guys," Emma called out. "What's going—"

"Hi Emma!" To her horror, from behind a massive cardboard structure of a pig walked Iris. "How's my newlywed? Did you and Harlan have a good night last evening after your wedding? Your love inspired us, and Ned and I had a lovely time as well—" She winked at Emma, then hurried on, shouting at someone not to break the plastic dandelion.

With a sinking feeling, Emma looked ahead, and to her horror, Astrid, Clare, and the two teen girls were staring at her with shocked looks on their faces. Had they heard? Maybe not. Maybe they were just surprised by the fact she was actually socializing with people. "Um... Hi?" She began wheeling the cart toward the float, trying to force her face into a casual grin as she walked past a stall occupied by a massive gray horse. "So, I brought all my stuff. I was thinking of painting a giant cupcake, a pink one, blended in with a drawing of Wright's—"

"Tell me I heard wrong," Astrid interrupted, her auburn hair cascading wildly around her shoulders, her eyes flashing. "Tell me I didn't hear what I think I heard."

Emma cleared her throat. "What—"

"You and Harlan got married?" Astrid still looked shocked.

Emma cleared her throat and peeked nervously at Clare, who was staring at her. "It was a convenience marriage," she said quickly, keeping her voice low, knowing that she had to keep up the pretense for the town. In order for her to have a chance with Mattie, a social worker would have to visit and interview people, and her marriage to Harlan had to sound legit. "He needed it for his work, and I—"

"You got married!" Clare shrieked. She threw aside the pot of pansies she'd been holding, sprinted across the barn, and lunged at Emma, sweeping her up in a huge hug. "I can't believe it. You and Harlan got married!"

Clare's shriek ricocheted through the barn, and suddenly Emma found herself the center of a thousand questions and jostling gossipers. The only one who hadn't joined them was Astrid, who was still standing back from the crowd staring at her. Emma managed to accept the boisterous congratulations, but her heart was sinking as she watched Astrid retreat. The assault of well-wishers was exhausting, as was the barrage of questions about a romance that no one else had known about—for obvious reasons. Once the rumor was confirmed, the discussion quickly shifted into self-congratulations for all the people who had apparently guessed that there was a hot romance brewing beneath the surface, and predicted that a marriage was on the way. A surprising number of people seemed to have been dead certain that Emma and Harlan had been dating secretly for two years, given that their first kiss had been a mere thirty six hours ago.