Four Weddings and a Fiasco: The Wedding Caper (14 page)

But he thought it was laughter. Mostly, anyway.

T
here was a note from Melody at their breakfast table asking each to write a new set of lists about the other, and to bring it to their last session.

She rose to greet them in the now-familiar room, accepting the lists from them, and looking them over as they all sat.

“Oh.” She looked up with a smile. “This is much better. Much, much better. You’ve made
such
progress. Now, let’s talk about a few things for you to work on, individually and together.”

T
he debriefing in Rose’s office at the Rose Chalet had included everyone from the original meeting in Ken’s office, and had been divided into three parts.

K.D. and he recounted what they’d experienced and what they’d found out — but only the parts that had to do with Marriage-Save and divorce attorney Gail Bledsoe.

They all ate a delicious lunch provided by Julie Delgado and Andrew Kyle.

Everyone speculated about who could be the mole.

The third part dragged on and on.

They simply didn’t have enough information to know for sure.

“Happens this way with investigations,” Hadley said. “You go in, get as much information as you can. But sometimes you don’t come out with anything definitive. Just have to keep working the case.”

Yeah, he’d do that. He’d work his own case. Because he had come out with something definitive.

He was in love with K.D. Hamilton.

E
ric put down their suitcases in his front hall — he’d insisted on carrying both up the outside steps — and turned to her.

“Myrna’s not here,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“She said she wouldn’t be in the note she left me yesterday.” He smiled. Slow and gentle. Then he held out his hand to her. “Come upstairs with me, K.D.”

“Eric—”

“I have plenty of closets.”

She chuckled, but sobered quickly. “I don’t think—”

“Don’t think. Feel. I also have a bed. Make love with me in my bed, K.D.”

Slowly, she put her hand in his, and they walked upstairs.

S
he’d heard him coming down the hall toward the bedroom where she’d stayed . . . until yesterday.

Her core clenched at the memory.

Memories.

They’d made love the first time in a ragged rush that had them stumbling over their desire, then tumbling into it.

The second time – or was it a continuation of the first? – was barely less frenetic. Then they slept.

She woke to the smell of food. Followed it to the kitchen for his scrambled eggs and bagels. Egg-flavored kisses resulted in only half the dishes reaching the sink. He pulled her onto his lap, onto him.

They returned to the bed. Slow this time. And found their passion in delay, until she moaned “Please, Eric. Now. Please.”

Earliest light brought a stretching, lazy entanglement. Kisses that needed to lead nowhere, yet did.

But the night ended.

And here she stood now, preparing to leave.

“What are you doing?” he asked from behind her.

His voice was husky from sleep. His chin bristled. She knew that without looking, because she’d stroked it through each phase of its growth. The last as he’d slept, just before she eased out of his bed.

“Packing to move out.”

“To make it look like we’re a couple in trouble for the investigation, you mean.”

“Eric.” She continued putting the few things she hadn’t taken to Marriage-Save into a bag. Her suitcase still sat downstairs, unopened.

She didn’t turn around. Hearing his voice, feeling his presence behind her, drawing in his scent with each breath was hard enough.

“We’ll have to figure out how to see each other until this is over. A version of the closets for the outside world.” She knew from his voice that he’d grinned at the memory.

She didn’t.

“Eric, I have to be ready to move on the next phase of the investigation, if or when Gail Bledsoe contacts me. At any moment. We can’t risk . . . .” She swallowed hard, aimed for light. "Going our separate ways was part of the plan from the beginning. After all, we had rings that belonged to a couple that never made it."

"They made it — they've had great lives. Happy lives, with wonderful kids. That's my definition of making it."

"Not with each other. That's my point — great lives but not with each other. See it's not a tragedy to take off these rings and go about our lives, like Mrs. Schmidt's niece and her fiancé did."

She drew off the rings, not letting herself hesitate, and placed them on the dresser.

His voice went harsh. "Is that what you’re going to do? Go out and look for somebody else?"

"No." She said that too quickly, too vehemently. It made it too clear how unthinkable she found the idea of anyone else. "Finding someone isn't part of my definition of a happy life. It is for you. I wish you the absolute best in finding that. It's just not for me."

Tears slid down her cheeks. It weakened her argument, she knew. But he couldn’t see them, and she thought she’d kept them out of her voice.

"You think that's it? You think you're going to walk away, walk out of my life? No way, K.D. I thought you knew me better — I know you do. You know I don't give up that easily. You know how I feel about you. That I'll keep showing you — proving to you — that I'm right. I’ve come after—"

He turned her to him.

"Aw, K.D." He reached for her. She stepped back.

"Don't Eric. Don't try to keep showing me. Don't come after me. If you care about me, about what I want, don't come after me."

"It doesn't have to be the way you fear. It doesn't. If you'd give it a chance—"

"Eric." She looked up at him. "Please."

Please
. She saw his memory of her saying that to him in such a different way. With such a different heart behind the word.

Please
. He'd wanted nothing more than to fulfill her
please
. He wanted nothing more now than to refuse it.

He couldn't. Because it was what she wanted. What she believed to the bottom of her heart that she needed. And that came first.

"Okay." He turned. "Okay."

He turned back quickly. "But dammit, you promise — you swear to me — that you'll never forget. That you'll remember me and remember us and remember what I know we can have. And if you—"
Change your mind
. No, it wasn't her mind that was the block. "—if you can believe, if you can trust your heart, then you find me. I want that promise from you. I want you to swear it."

“Eric—”

“Swear it.”

She slowly raised her head to meet his gaze. "I swear it."

He had to let her go with that. With her promise and nothing more to hold on to.

“M
om, it’s K.D.”

“Is everything all right? Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m fine.”

And she was. She had returned to Cabot the day before yesterday after leaving — she blocked the name, and replaced it with — San Francisco in the morning. She’d put in full shifts yesterday and today. Would put in another tomorrow, even though she wasn’t scheduled until next week.

It went fine. A little boring, yes. But it filled the time. Some of the time.

“Are you sure? The last two times you called — once was that pneumonia, and then that driver who hit your police car.”

Was that true? Those were the last times she’d called? That had to be, what? Two calls in almost two years?

“Nothing like that this time, Mom. Really. I wanted to see how you are.”

“Me? I’m fine. Mark and I are boring as can be, same schedule day to day, year to year.”

Contentment. That’s what she heard. Was it new? Or had it always been there and she’d missed it before?

“That’s great, Mom.”

There was a long pause.

“Mom?”

“I . . . I’m surprised.” She heard a wobble in her mother’s voice. “You so often seem to be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed? No, Mom. No. I only want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

She’d said that before, but K.D. hadn’t accepted it. This time she listened.

“You like being Mark’s wife?”

“Of course I do. I love it, because I love him, and he loves me. I just wish . . . .”

“I know. That I got along better with him. Maybe I’ll come out there soon, Mom. We can try a little harder.”

Her mother sniffed into the phone. “That would be lovely, K.D. Lovely.”

“G
ood news,” Ken’s voice announced over the phone.

“Oh?” Eric could use some good news.

“Gail Bledsoe has taken the bait. She contacted K.D., and they have an appointment tomorrow.”

She hadn’t called him to tell him the news directly. He’d scared her off so completely she wouldn’t even call him.

Oh, yeah. Great news.

“Y
ou okay?” Gareth Cavendish asked K.D. as they left the office of divorce lawyer Gail Bledsoe.

After much discussion with Captain Hadley and Ken Yount, it had been decided that she should have a companion for these visits — an additional witness, so nothing came down to K.D.’s word against the lawyer’s.

Gareth was perfect. As a former SFPD officer, he knew what to say and what not to. In his current role as a private investigator, he suited the unofficial nature of the investigation. Through his relationship with Anne Farleigh, he already knew what was going on, and had participated in the wedding video as one of the multi-clothed guests.

The only drawback, as far as K.D. was concerned, about her supportive “cousin” accompanying her to see the lawyer was that he was too observant.

“Yeah. Fine.”

“She did a number on Eric’s character, morals, and manners.”

“We expected that.” She released her clenched hands.

“Still not fun to hear about somebody you—” He looked at her over the top of his sunglasses. “—like.”

“Part of the drill.”

He gave a short nod, either accepting that it didn’t bother her or that she wasn’t going to talk about it.

“I take it those accusations were all drawn from counseling sessions?”

She frowned. “No. There were a couple things she said . . . . About Eric treating me like the little housewife — that wasn’t said in counseling. Neither was the part about him saying Gigi’s name in his sleep.”

“Oh?”

“Nope. I think I know who Ms. Bledsoe is getting her Marriage-Save targets from. Let’s get with Captain Hadley and Ken. Maybe we can wrap this up quickly.”

There was nothing she wanted to do more. Not after today. End this investigation, and take the next step in her life.

E
ric sat at his desk. Staring at its surface. The late afternoon sun clearly showed the work piled up on it. Screw it.

He heard the doorbell. Screw that, too. Myrna would get it. Or not. And if she did, and it was a would-be client, screw that, too.

He heard Myrna. Heard another voice.

His gaze snapped up to the door to the hall.

It couldn't be.

He was pathetic. Hopeless. Just because he heard a female voice. Next thing he’d start staring after every long-legged woman he saw. Hoping . . . . Okay, he was already doing that. But he’d be worse. Every woman with wispy hair. Every woman with a stern expression that he so wanted to turn into a smile.

A change in the light brought his head up again. There was a shadow at the smoked glass of his closed office door. Slender. Too tall for Myrna. The right height for—

He stood.

The door slowly opened.

K.D. It was K.D. Hands on hips, frowning at him.

"K.D., what are you doing here? What—"

"You need better security. Myrna needs to be able to see who’s at the outside door. You should be able to see who’s at your door and —”

“I know who’s at my door.” Knew it before she opened it. “What I don’t know is why. No, wait. Don't tell me. Let me say something. I've thought and thought about this. I could say we’ll take things as slow as you want. And I won’t rush you right at the start. But you know what I want. I want marriage to you and a family. Dammit, I know we can make it work."

“Eric—”

“I know, I know. You’re not ready. Okay, so we’ll go slower. We’ve done the hard part, we’ve been married
and
separated. We’ll do the dating now. We can do that. You know we can.”

For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was crying again. Then he realized it was a trickle of sweat down the side of her face.

Because she was wearing a coat. Buttoned to her chin.

"Why are you wearing that coat in this weather? I'll take it and—"

"No! I mean, not yet."

"Not yet," he repeated, feeling as if he'd suddenly become even stupider than he'd felt these days. And that had been about as low as he'd thought he could get. Nothing made sense. Not K.D. being here now and sure as hell not her leaving before. "Aren't you hot in that coat?"

"I sure hope so," she mumbled.

At least that's what he thought she said, except that didn't make sense, either.

She cleared her throat, lifted her chin and looked straight at him.

"I didn't want it to be this way, I'm not going to lie about that. And maybe it would be easier if I never felt this way, if I never felt I needed to have you in my life. But, easier isn't always better. Oh, Eric, I'm so glad I do feel this way. I was wrong about finding someone not being part of a happy life for me. It is — as long as the person's you."

She unbuttoned the top button of her coat. It revealed the skin of her throat. Then the second button and he saw the delicate framework of her collarbone. Another button and . . . .

He breathed out a phrase that might have been a curse if it hadn't sounded like a prayer