Marriage (Red, White &) Blues (Unexpectedly Married #2)

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

“ S o let me get this straight—” I said trying and failing to keep my voice level. “You’re agreeing with them?” We were in the car heading home from the meeting and my husband appeared to have lost his ever-loving mind.

“Would you please calm down and let me talk? I’m not agreeing with them, but I have several meetings scheduled for ‘ Operation Distance Myself from Parker Holdings. ’”

Clearly, we were still trying to maneuver that, too.

“But I’m your dik-dik,” I whined.

“Forever. But with no job and no friends, how long do you think you’ll last?”

“Don’t you dare start sounding reasonable, Blake Parker.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” We both started smiling even though the situation sucked.

“It would be nice to see Pen and Sierra again.”

“I’ll fly into Detroit on the weekends for the next couple of weeks and I’ll be your date for your mom and Carl’s wedding. This will work.”

It might work.

Blake reached over to rest his hand on my knee, giving it a squeeze. “Glory,” he said, reading my mind, “it’ll work.”

Gah! I pinned him with my best really? “Get out of my head!”

But now that we decided to go the ‘ Kick Gloria Out of Vermont’ course, Pen and Sierra were about to get a whopper of a tale. I should’ve never ignored their calls after the news broke. Somebody needed a friendship refresher course because my friendship skills sucked.

“I guess when we get home, I’ll start packing. I’ll need accommodations for the plane.”

“I’ll fly you first class.”

With second summer behind us, fall in Vermont brought cooler temperatures and plenty of rain. Exactly as it started to do on our drive home. I wondered if this wasn’t a metaphor for our marriage. “Just think about how different your life would be if you’d never asked me to go on that cruise.”

“I don’t want to. I’m glad we went on safari. I’m glad Moses was our guide. I’m glad we helped Mingati’s grandson and I’m ecstatic that Moses’s brother Michael was one of my grandfather’s estate attorneys.”

“But you have to admit, your life would be easier if we’d never caught that boat. You could’ve left me in Europe and been done.”

“If I wanted easy, I would’ve dated one of the plethora of women my mother tried to set me up with, gotten married a couple of years ago and probably had my first child by now. The trip to Europe never would have happened. I’d be completely miserable.”

“You aren’t miserable now?”

“Projecting, are we?”

“No. I’m just worried that without me around, that other life might start to look appealing.”

His jaw tightened the way it did when he was irritated, and he turned into the drive. “Let’s get you inside,” he said.

The rain soaked his hair and clothing as he pulled my manual chair from the trunk. Yes, we’re up to three chairs. The motorized one wouldn’t fit in his car. I got a soggy bottom because I had no choice other than to sit in the puddle that collected on the seat. He rolled me inside and I took over maneuvering myself over to the stairs to the lift. Chair to lift. Lift to chair. “If I ever get the bright idea to move furniture again, you have my permission to shoot me.”

“Or we can hope that you’ve learned a valuable lesson here and won’t ever want to move furniture again.”

Blake helped me change out of my wet clothing before stripping down to get himself dry. I appreciated his effort, but at the same time, I felt like, why bother? I know, I know… we’d planned for this but I never imagined it would feel so final .

“You need anything?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. I’m good.” Good? Who was I trying to fool?

“Okay, then I’ll be in my office. Call if you need me.”

Part of my wanted to call to him right now just to see if he’d stay, but I let him go. Instead, I stared at my gorgeous new bedroom furniture. Maybe we could donate it to a family starting over. I hefted myself onto the sofa that looked out across the expansive back yard. I bet we could find something similar. This time bought from a non -betrayer because I loved the cushiness and the soft chenille fabric.

After getting caught up watching the rain soak the balcony for a while longer, I unlocked the phone in my hand and pressed Pen’s number.

“Was wondering when you’d call me back,” she said rather than hello when she picked up.

“Sorry.” What else was there to say?

“I told Ant that if I didn’t hear from you by the end of the day, I was flying out there.”

“Well, as it turns out, you won’t have to. Surprise ! I’ll be visiting for a few weeks.”

“Why?” she asked suspiciously, rather than giving the excited ‘ Wow! I can’t wait to see you! ’ I’d hoped for.

“Pen, I messed up.”

“What do you mean ‘ messed up ?’ How?”

“I couldn’t get a job and I got lonely without you and Sierra around. Blake was logging a lot of hours for work. I made a friend and stupid me—I told her highly personal things about my life with Blake.”

“ Sweety …”

“Hold on, it gets worse. It turns out she was a plant hired to set me up.”

“By his father?”

“ No —I don’t know. Robert seemed really surprised when we told him, and the paper trail led back to Raymond Hill .”

“The man who went against Brockton Parker in the primaries?”

“Yes. But he did this well after the primaries. Brock accepted the candidacy the day after my wedding.”

“This doesn’t make sense.”

“So now we have to let his family think we’re playing nice. They ordered me to lay low, which means I lay low until Blake and I can figure out if Robert is involved, and if he’s not, who’s behind this and what’s their endgame?”

“When are you coming back?”

I heaved a heavy, heavy sigh. “Probably tomorrow night. I’d much rather take the redeye.”

“Girl, you’re loaded, you could book private and forego the public terminals all together.”

Holy crap ! I never thought of that. “Hold on for a sec,” I said to Pen, then covering the receiver so I didn’t blow out her eardrum, I shouted, “ Blake !”

He burst into the room. “What’s wrong?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you but Pen had a really good idea.”

“She on the line now?” he asked and I removed my hand from the receiver as I nodded. Blake bent down to say, “Hey, Pen,” into the phone.

“Just put me on speaker,” she said, so I clicked the speaker button. “I just said that maybe you should see about chartering her a private jet so she doesn’t have to deal with the public.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked us or no one, it was a toss-up.

“Probably because you’ve always been Parker rich but now, thanks to Grandpa Parker, you could singlehandedly fund a small nation for the next five-hundred years and still live like a king for the rest of your life,” I said. “There’s an adjustment period.”

“Can you and Ant pick her up? We’ll call with the details.”

“Be happy to… Wait —Gloria, why aren’t you protesting? You always protest help. Blake, if you’ve pod-personed my best friend I’ll end you.”

He snickered while shaking his head at me. “I take it she didn’t tell you, then?”

“What now?”

“Glory’s in a wheelchair currently with a severely sprained ankle and a broken collarbone.”

“How in the ever loving?—”

“We were moving furniture and I slipped.”

“Why didn’t you hire a mover?”

“Not you, too. Just rest assured, I’m not a pod-person. I just can’t drive.”

“Right, while you keep her occupied, I’m going to make some calls. Tell Ant his wife is brilliant.”

“Will do,” she replied, her voice smiling.

Blake would help me pack when he finished, but I thought I might as well get started. By the time I hung up with Pen and my partner in solving crime showed back in the bedroom, the carpeting on the floor looked like gridlines from the tire tracks.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he asked.

“You were busy and I had time. There’s still more to do.”

No lie, my lie-low was estimated to last about a month. He rolled my bags downstairs for the morning. Now that I got to avoid the public terminals, he booked me for a time that worked best for all of us, including Pen and Ant.

“Care to show a girl a good time?” I asked when he walked back into the room. I pulled down my shirt to show a bit of cleavage.

“Shit, baby… you don’t know how badly I want to but no can do. The collarbone. You haven’t been cleared. But I will snuggle you tonight.”

“So much for big dik-dik energy,” I muttered, but he held me close. We snuggled in bed. He kissed my head several times but wouldn’t take it any further because once we started it was too hard to turn us off.

In the morning, he helped me into the shower and to dress. And then he met me down at the bottom of the stairs. Dee had a to-go coffee and Danish waiting for me, and Maisie hugged me. She tried not to cry, but I heard her heavy breaths as she tried to stifle a sob and she held back tears.

I gripped her hand. “It’s not forever.”

“I know, but you should be here with us.”

“Take care of him,” I told her, smiling a bit sadly.

He drove us to a private airport. No travelers, just employees and in the private airport business, they knew better than to give in to gossip.

After checking in, he romance novel kissed me and then he helped me onto the plane. He kissed me one more time before he had to let me go.

“Love you,” he called out as the door closed.

“Love you, too.” I waved even though he probably never saw it.

After a couple of hours, the plane landed in Detroit. We’d hardly even bumped into air turbulence. A smooth ride all the way. Then, when I disembarked, I was greeted by Pen and Ant waving frantically at me. Well, Pen waved frantically. Ant stood smiling at me with his hands in his pockets, looking ten kinds of handsome in his jeans and short-sleeved button-down. His shirt had these tiny horseshoes embroidered all over the front and back.

Pen didn’t hold back wearing a vintage 1970s corduroy wrap dress the color of a red-leafed sugar maple. Pen and her vintage clothing. Some things never changed and I was so, so glad for it.

I started motoring over to my friends but Pen rushed me. “Gloria!” she shouted when I got close enough, hugging me in a hug that bordered on crushing.

“Pen, baby —she needs to breathe,” Ant said as he reached a hand out to gently tug her back, and I took in a big breath, pressing a hand to my collarbone and wincing.

“Sorry,” she said, bending down to regular-hug me this time, staying clear of my sling. As she straightened, Ant patted the back of my chair. “Nice wheels. How fast this baby go?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Pen said. “You realize you’re ridiculous.”

“Gloria doesn’t think so, do you Gloria?”

Pen laughed as I mimicked zipping my lips.

Ant bent in to kiss my cheek then. “We’ve missed you.” Ant’s handsome only got better with age. The girls all swooned over him back in high school, even though he’d been paired off with Gretchen since like birth. I secondhand swooned because my best friend had been in love with him since she discovered boys weren’t gross and everyone knew the girl code forbade swooning over the guy your best friend was in love with.

“I’ve missed you, too,” I replied.

“Hungry?” he asked me and my tummy rumbled softly.

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Good. We’ll get your bags and then Pen insisted that you needed Coney dogs.”

My eyes lit up. “American?” I asked, hope filling me for the first time since I’d been mandated to return to Michigan. Yes , for a Coney dog. IYKYK .

“Damn straight!” Pen replied. See, a war raged in the streets of Detroit. Not a war with guns, but of the fervent belief that one Michigan Coney dog outshone the other. Some mistakenly believed Lafayette Coney Island to be the superior Coney dog, when in reality, American Coney Island simply was the superior dog.

There weren’t enough numbers in the world to count all the good times we’d spent in those hallowed walls with the black-and-white checkered flooring, the reflective ceiling, and the copious red and chrome chairs and white-topped tables.

Pen stayed next to me as Ant collected my bags. Then I raced Ant to— “Where’s the Jag?” I asked.

He pointed to the chair. “And how did you expect us to fit three people, two large bags and a wheelchair into my Jag?”

“Whatever,” I grumbled. “Help me in.”

In no more than ten minutes we were on our way to American Coney Island. Not that it took ten minutes to get there but after ten minutes we were driving—just to clarify. I texted Blake in the back seat of the Escalade they’d rented on our way.

So, I loved Detroit. There, I said it. Come at me. I’d fight anyone who tried to put my city down. Did we have our problems? Of course. Income disparity? Yes. A football team that either stank the whole season or got our collective hopes up on these whirlwind winning streaks, only to blow it before the playoffs? Not anymore bitches ! Go Lions!

I ate my weight in Coney dogs. Ate. My. Weight. Maybe because of my recent life upheaval, but those Coneys worked their magic like a balm to soothe my soul. Not stress eating, per se, but a comforting, food-induced hug—but in my belly.

Then after dinner, they surprised me with tickets to see a revival of Wicked at the Detroit Theater which meant I needed to amend my statement. I really , really , really liked my city. But I loved my friends. Not because of the tickets—well, that was a lie, of course, because of the tickets—and the Coney dogs and picking me up at the airport, and doing all this to make me feel better after all the terrible I’d been dealing with. I missed my husband. I missed my bed. But I had the best friends ever invented.

After they dropped me off, well, they didn’t exactly drop me off because I had one chair, and my house in Michigan had stairs as well, so my friends set me up a bedroom in the small den at the back of the house where my dad used to watch his Tigers in the summer, his Lions in the fall, his Red Wings in the winter and his Pistons in the spring, for the most part. Some overlap occurred every season, especially with a team on a winning streak.

The sofa converted to a fairly comfortable bed, which Pen made up for me, while Ant moved one of my dressers down into the room with me so that I could unpack my clothing. The room had a coat closet, which we turned into a clothes closet, or a suitcase and shoe closet for the time being. I only brought shirts and pants because I felt like I looked ridiculous wearing a dress with my arm in a sling and my foot up on a stirrup.

And no Blake to help me dress.

No Blake.

While Pen helped me into my pajamas, not because I necessarily needed her to, but because she felt like I needed her to and I wanted to give her that, with all she’d done for me today, Ant ran to the grocery store so I had food in the house for tomorrow, until Pen and Sierra could come to check on me. I’d actually done a pretty credible job of dressing myself despite the sling, but my husband helped me out because he loved me. I felt loved now. By Pen. And Ant.

Once they left, and I found myself alone, it all caught up to me. For the first couple of months after my dad died, I’d spent more time in this room than I cared to remember, but then, once I ventured out of this room, I’d never gone back. The memories of him—his scent or the times we’d spent here together—what if I’d started to build new memories? Without my dad?

What I wouldn’t give to talk to my dad just one more time.

In an attempt to shake off that train of thought, I reached for my phone that Pen had set on the end table next to the bed while she’d helped me change. I saw a text I’d missed from Blake and stupidly, I started to tear up while I read it.

Blake: I miss my wife.

Yeah, I missed him too.

Me: I miss my husband.

A reply popped up right away.

Blake: What are you doing?

Me: I’m in bed.

Blake: Bed? I like where this conversation is going. Calling…

The phone rang and I answered it right away. “It’s good to hear your voice,” he said.

I laughed. “I didn’t talk yet.”

“But you’re talking now. How’s Michigan?”

“Pen and Ant rented an Escalade to pick me up, then took me to American Coney Island for dinner.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a Coney dog. That’s the hotdog with the chili, right?”

My hand to my heart, I gasped. “We had a good run,” I teased. “My dear Blake, that’s a chili dog. Meat, beans, cheese and even jalapenos. A Coney dog has a bean-less Coney sauce topped with chopped onion and mustard.”

“Now that I know can we stay married?”

“Depends. I need your solemn promise that you’ll try one.”

“Cross my heart. I’d do it now if I could get away. I’m stuck here in Chicago for the week.”

“Chicago? You didn’t tell me you were going to Chicago.”

“I told you I was traveling for business.”

“Are you interviewing for another position there?”

“Not an interview per se, but more meetings with companies to let them know about my departure from Parker Holdings. It’s best to do these things in person.”

“I’ll be here, living for the weekend.”

“It won’t be long.”

“I miss you, Blake. I miss you already.”

He stayed quiet for a moment and then sighed heavily. “I miss you, too, sweetheart.”

We stayed on the phone talking for a little while longer, but I think for the both of us, we were just ready to go to sleep and get through each next day until he flew into Detroit.

The next afternoon, both Pen and Sierra showed up to whisk me away to a girls’ lunch at a new bistro downtown that I’d never heard of before. We had a good time. The morning after that, Pen showed to take me to the doctor. We just went to a MedExpress. I had to make sure that I could put weight on my foot again. With the swelling down, I got the go-ahead to ditch the damn chair, which I promptly donated because I never wanted to see that thing again.

Me : Free at last!

I texted my husband, sending him a pic of my unwrapped ankle and another of me standing on it.

Blake: Too many clothes.

Me: I’m with Pen.

Blake: She can keep her clothes on. She’s hot, but not my type.

Me: You’re an idiot.

Blake: Ah, but I’m your idiot.

Always. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on my idiot again.

Blake: Talk to you tonight? Meeting about to start.

Me: Tonight. Love you.

Blake: Love you, too.

And because we could, I asked Pen to take me to a farmers’ market. I bought a plethora of vegetables, some fruits, and a couple of baked goods before she dropped me back off at home.

“I’ll have Ant pick you up at six,” she said.

“No need. I’ll drive to your place.”

She tried to protest, but my Outback sat in the garage unused since I’d moved to Vermont.

“But you—” she tried to protest.

“I want to drive. Period. What can I bring?” I asked.

“You don’t have to bring anything but yourself.”

“Pen. I’m here. I’ve got one good arm. So maybe I can’t make a four-course meal, but I can throw something together.”

“Fine. Your hummus. I miss your hummus. How an Irish-Polish woman from the greater Detroit area makes such an authentic-tasting dip is beyond me. But there we are.”

“Okay… I’ll bring the hummus.”

Now I had to head to the store—wait, now I practice driving with only one arm. Then , I’d head to the store.

Finally, something to do.