Married 'til Monday Page 5

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I just did.”

  “I mean when we were married.”

  “What would it have mattered?” They’d fought about plenty else without picking over all the little stuff.

  The car went quiet when he put the window up. The bag rattled as he zipped it shut and set it on the floor. Blessed quiet reigned.

  For all of one minute.

  “Were there other things?”

  She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about the past, Ryan. It doesn’t matter anymore.” If she kept telling herself that, maybe she’d believe it. Though it was getting pretty hard with him sitting a centimeter away.

  “What if it matters to me?”

  Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Why would it?”

  He shifted toward her, his woodsy, leathery scent wafting her way. “I don’t know—maybe I want closure or something.”

  “You signed the divorce papers. If that’s not closure, I don’t know what is.”

  Ryan’s phone vibrated with a call. Sighing, he looked at the screen, pausing before he answered. “Hey, Mom. Getting things ready for the garage sale?”

  Abby tensed at the thought of Ryan’s mom, then chided herself. It wasn’t as if Mama Jo were in the car with them. Not that Ryan’s mom wasn’t a nice person, but she was like a mama bear when one of her children got hurt—and Ryan had gotten hurt. They both had.

  “No kidding. Well, that was quick . . . True. Have they set a date? . . . Hmm. That makes sense.” His eyes swung toward her, then back out the window. “Fine . . . Yes, I’m sure . . . No, Mom. I know. Don’t worry about it.”

  Heat crept into her cheeks as she imagined what his mother was saying. Be careful. You know what happened last time. Don’t let that woman sink her claws into you again.

  Not to worry. Her claws had been clipped long ago.

  “Just hit Syracuse . . . Not too bad so far . . . Boston . . . I don’t know . . . All right. Love you. Bye.” He hung up the phone and tucked it into his pocket.

  “She didn’t want to talk to me?” Abby hated the bitter sound of her voice.

  “She said to tell you hello. PJ got engaged last night.”

  “Wow. I guess she’s not sixteen anymore.”

  “They’re wanting to get married in a couple months.”

  “Who’s the guy?”

  “His name is Cole Evans. He came to Chapel Springs to compete against PJ for the Wishing House last year.”

  “Wait, she won that mansion?”

  “Sort of. It’s a long story.”

  Things had always seemed to come up roses for PJ. Not that Abby minded. She’d had a soft spot for Ryan’s baby sister.

  “She went to culinary school, and now she’s a chef. Her restaurant is pretty popular.”

  “I remember her cheesecake.” She’d wanted to throttle herself a dozen times for not getting the recipe. “I can’t believe she’s grown up enough to own a restaurant.”

  “Then Jade will really surprise you. She’s married with twins.”

  Abby blinked. “No way.”

  “And you’ll never guess who she married.”

  Abby slowed as traffic came to a standstill. “Who?”

  “Daniel.”

  She looked at him. “Daniel Dawson?”

  He nodded. “He’s mayor now, in case you missed the sign coming into town.”

  Wow. Who said nothing ever changed in small towns? Ryan was blowing her mind right now. “I always thought Jade would move to Nashville or somewhere and make something of her music.”

  “She lived in Chicago awhile, but that didn’t work out. She teaches guitar, and the girls keep her busy.”

  “What about Madison?”

  “Married. To Beckett O’Reilly. Remember him? He used to work at the marina, but he quit to build boats.”

  She shook her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  He smirked. “Well, you didn’t make it down to the marina much. She works at the vet clinic downtown. Cassidy works there now too. She’s dating Stew Flannery.”

  The woman’s name dredged up a bucketload of feelings, none of them pleasant. Abby wondered why he’d brought up someone who had caused so much contention between them. Maybe he wanted her to know she wasn’t still at the high school or that she had a boyfriend. Not that it mattered now. She pushed away the negative thoughts.

  “And your parents?” she asked, stifling a yawn. “How are they?”

  “Pretty good overall. Farm’s going well, and Mom still has the antique shop. She had a heart attack a couple years ago, though. Pretty bad one, had bypass surgery and everything.”

  “Sorry to hear that. She’s healthy now?”

  “Seems to be. Lord knows she has plenty of energy.”

  “She always did. My gosh, this traffic is awful. We’ll be lucky to make it to Boston by dark.” She braked, rubbing her neck.

  “You’re getting a headache, aren’t you? Why don’t you let me drive.”

  “I’m fine.” She inched the car forward, wondering if it was construction or an accident and how many miles it would be like this.

  Ryan shifted in his seat. “About what we were talking about before . . .”

  She shook her head. “Look, maybe it’s better if we just don’t talk. This is going to be complicated enough as it is.”

  “It’s a long trip, Abby—a lot of hours together.” That voice. And he was looking at her again. “Can’t we be friends?”

  She swallowed hard. “Like you said, there’s a lot of water under the bridge.”

  “Let’s put it aside. Start over.”

  She gave a wry laugh. “We can’t go backward, Ryan. That’s not possible.”

  “I know, but this is going to be hard enough without dragging our history along. I’d rather air it out and find closure, but since you don’t want to do that, let’s just put it aside.”

  It sounded like a dangerous plan. She remembered how easily he’d slipped past her guard before. How deeply he’d settled into her heart, filling the empty spaces as if he’d always been there. Removing him from her life had been like ripping off an appendage. She hadn’t known it was possible to hurt that much and still be breathing.

  On the other hand, she was tired of feeling tense and awkward, and hated the thought of another four days like this. Maybe she could let it go, just long enough to get through this—without opening her heart to another disaster.

  “Please?” he said. “I hate all this tension between us. We were friends once. Can’t we go back to that? Just for the week?”

  Abby eased into the other lane, which seemed to be crawling a little quicker. She considered his request, weighing the pros and cons. “And you won’t bring up the past anymore?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to.”

  Her gaze bounced off his just long enough to determine his sincerity. Maybe he wanted the same thing as she did. “All right, but I mean it. I don’t want to rehash the past.”

  He held his hands out, palms forward. “Whatever you want.”

  Ryan resisted the urge to jab his fist in the air. It was a small step, but a critical one. He hated seeing Abby all tense, her eyes shuttered, her jaw clenched—and all because of him. He hadn’t come along to make her unhappy or ruin her trip. On the contrary, he wanted to see her smile again. Watch the shutters fall from her eyes. He’d once made her green eyes sparkle. He prayed he could do it again.

  He’d missed her smile. Her laugh. That honesty of hers, brutal at times, especially when she turned it on herself.

  He flicked a glance her way as she covered her mouth in a yawn. Maybe she hadn’t slept any better than he had. The traffic inched forward.

  “There’s a rest stop ahead. Why don’t we pull off and switch places.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “Abby, please. What’s it going to hurt? You could take a nap, maybe shake your headache.”

  Her lips pursed, calling attention to her fu
ll bottom lip. He’d always loved that lip—had nibbled on it more times than he could count.

  “We’re just sitting here anyway.”

  She sighed, stretching her neck. “Maybe for an hour or so.”

  He was surprised she’d given in so easily. She must be awfully tired—or hurting more than she let on.

  When they reached the rest stop they took a break, letting Boo do her business, then he eased back into the traffic. Ryan felt as if he were driving a slice of lemon chiffon pie, but Abby looked as if she was sorely in need of a nap. Once she’d removed her sunglasses, he saw dark circles on the pale skin under her eyes.

  Boo settled in the back, and Abby laid her head against the car door. She was sound asleep by the time traffic cleared thirty minutes later.

  Ryan set the cruise, sneaking peeks at Abby as he flew down the highway. Watching her was more enjoyable than watching the landscape pass. Her face lax in sleep, her lips slightly parted, she looked vulnerable and young.

  He wondered about her relationship with her parents. Wondered why she hadn’t leveled with them about the divorce. He’d known there was contention between Abby and her dad, but she’d never opened up about it.

  He’d only met them once, at their wedding, and her dad had been so harsh with her. Ryan had wanted to slug him in the face after the father-daughter dance. He’d never learned what Bud said to her, but Abby’s mood had shifted and remained down for the rest of the evening.

  The LOW GAS warning dinged an hour later, and Ryan checked to make sure it hadn’t woken Abby. The next exit was several miles up the road, but when he drew closer, the huge sign rising from the ground displayed a higher price than he’d been seeing. He passed the exit. Abby needed her sleep anyway, and she’d surely awaken when he stopped. He could go at least another thirty miles.

  Fifteen miles later he still hadn’t passed an exit with a gas station. A little warning would’ve been nice. Finally he saw a sign for an exit two miles ahead. Thank God.

  He’d no sooner had the thought than the car gave a little gurgle. Ryan looked down at the fuel gauge as the engine sputtered and lost speed, despite his pressure on the gas pedal.

  Jeez-o-Pete.

  Maybe he could make it to the ramp and coast down. Come on, Chiffon. Just a couple more miles. He glanced at Abby. She would not take this well.

  He pressed the gas all the way to the floor, but nothing happened. Naturally the road was as flat as a chalkboard. The engine died, taking the power steering and air conditioning with it. He shifted into neutral, turned on his flashers, and tried praying the car to the exit ramp.

  Boo, thinking another walk was in her immediate future, propped her paws on his leg.

  He didn’t even make it to the green overhead sign announcing that the exit was half a mile ahead. He eased the car into the emergency lane. The tires bumped over the rumble strip, and the car rolled to a stop. Abby stirred as he shifted the dead car into Park.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  Ryan opened his mouth to admit what he’d done.

  “Did it overheat? Was it making weird sounds? Why didn’t you wake me? Why, oh why, did I cancel AAA last year?”

  “Calm down, Abby. There’s nothing wrong with your car.”

  “Why—what do you mean? Why’d you pull over?”

  A car whooshed past, making the little bean of a car shudder.

  “We’re out of gas.”

  Her head swiveled toward him. “We’re out of—”

  “I thought I had at least ten more miles, and the last place—”

  “It’s all the way on E!”

  “—was ridiculously priced.”

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  Whoosh!

  “Look.” He pointed at the green sign. “The next exit’s right up there.”

  Abby glared at him. “Well, have a nice walk.”

  The air inside the car was heating fast. Abby must’ve felt it too, because she tried to put her window down before realizing the car was off. She flung open her car door and settled back into the seat, grabbing Boo before the dog jumped out. The pooch was trembling something fierce.

  Know how you feel, little girl.

  Abby turned, looking out over the wide-open field beyond her door. A hot breeze blew into the car, bringing the pungent odor of farmland.

  Ryan looked at the green sign and gauged the distance to the gas station. It might be right off the highway. Then again it might not. He’d be gone a minimum of thirty minutes. He looked at Abby, his gaze falling over her slender form, down her long legs.

  “I can’t leave you here alone.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “You’re a woman alone on the side—”

  “I’ll lock the doors.”

  “It’s too hot.”

  “It’s too hot to be traipsing two miles down the highway.”

  He settled back in his seat. “I’m not leaving you, Abby.” He’d wait her out if he had to. No way was he taking a chance with her. “I can be just as stubborn as you.”

  “Already calling me stubborn, and I’m not the one who put us on the side of the road to save a few pennies. Our friendship is off to a dandy start.”

  Ryan scrubbed his jawline. He’d really blown it this time. “I know I made a mistake, and I’m sorry, but I’m not leaving you.”

  Abby’s eyes shot down to Boo. The dog started to squat on her lap.

  “No, Boo!”

  Abby shot out of the door, but not before Boo left a long, wet trail down Abby’s shorts.

  Chapter Eight

  ONE CLEAN PAIR OF SHORTS AND A FULL GAS TANK LATER, Abby was back in the driver’s seat. They sailed through the rest of New York with little traffic, making up for lost time.

  She wasn’t sure why she was in such a hurry. What awaited her but an impossible-to-please dad, bad childhood memories, and an acting job that seemed more impossible by the mile.

  It had been pretty quiet since the empty tank. Ryan had tried to apologize twice—a new skill he’d apparently picked up in the last three years. But Abby was having trouble letting it go. The carelessness typified all the problems they’d had in their marriage. Whether he liked it or not, they dragged their failed marriage behind them like a noisy string of cans on a “Just Married” car.

  To make matters worse, the nap hadn’t relieved her migraine. On the contrary, it was worse than ever, despite the meds. Her left temple throbbed as they hit more stop-and-go traffic, inviting her stomach to join the fun. It rolled and churned awhile later as she navigated the hills, the fast-food burger she’d had midafternoon threatening to return.

  She eyed the GPS. She’d never make it another hundred and twelve miles. She pulled off at the first exit with a hotel sign.

  “Need a break?”

  “We’re stopping for the night.”

  She felt his eyes on her as she turned toward the only hotel in town. Motel more accurately described the two-story building with all exterior doors.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Migraine.” She wanted nothing more than a dark room and a soft bed.

  She let Ryan carry their bags and check them both in while she held Boo and focused on keeping her food down. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth as they walked down the cement sidewalk to her door. Ryan slid the key into the doorknob and opened it for her. Warm stale air, reeking of cigarette smoke, assaulted her.

  As if opportunity was all her stomach needed, it twisted hard. Abby set Boo down and dashed to the bathroom, heaving over the toilet. Sweat beaded on the back of her neck as she retched. She hadn’t had this bad a migraine in years. Then again, she’d never driven across the country—with her ex-husband.

  The hollow door squeaked open behind her. Just what she needed. Ryan hanging around to watch her puke.

  “Get out,” she wheezed.

  Water ran in the sink as Abby’s stomach heaved again. She was breathing hard, eyes burning,
when she finally sat back on her haunches.

  A cool cloth settled at the back of her neck. Ryan shut the toilet lid and flushed as she caught her breath and assessed the situation.

  Outside the door, Boo whined.

  “Feeling better?”

  “I think so.” Her hands trembled as she pushed to a stand. She hated this. Bad enough to feel so sick, but Ryan seeing her weak and vulnerable made it a hundred times worse.

  She rinsed out her mouth, using a glass she hoped was clean, then he grasped her elbow, leading her out of the room and toward the bed.

  She pulled toward Boo.

  “Where are you going?”

  “She needs to go out.” Her voice sounded like it had been raked across a grater.

  “I’ll take her. Let’s get you into bed.”

  “Go on to your room. I’m fine.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  It was the second time today he’d said those words. But this time she didn’t have the strength to argue. She fell onto the bed, heedless of the polyester bedspread that would probably light up like a Christmas tree under ultraviolet lights. Her head throbbed, her limbs quaked, and she just wanted to fade into the oblivion of sleep.

  Ryan pulled the drapes, ushering in blessed darkness. The air conditioner kicked on, and a cool breeze floated across the back of her neck. She felt her sandals coming off, heard the bedding whisper just before he moved her under the covers and drew a sheet over her. A minute later a cool washcloth settled on her neck.

  “Abby? You want me to stay?”

  She shook her head.

  He sighed. “I’ll be right next door. I have a key to your room—I’ll check on you later. I’ll let Boo out and keep her with me, okay?”

  Abby buried her nose into the pillow. With any luck she’d be unconscious by then. Please, God.

  “Abby, you hear me?”

  She groaned.

  “Text me if you need anything. Your phone’s on the nightstand. Or bang on the wall. I’m right next door.”

  She thought she felt a brief flutter of her hair before he flipped off the lamp and left. And moments later, oblivion.

  She woke to a dim light shining through a crack in the curtains. She blinked up at the ceiling, assessing her condition. Migraine gone. Stomach calm. Well rested. She checked the time.