11 Marley #2
He returned and sat down near her feet, which she had pulled up as she curled into a fetal position. The glow of his phone lit his face as he checked the weather apps.
“Sonofa,” he said. “It’s coming right toward us.”
Marley’s eyes squeezed shut again as another wave of nausea crashed through her. She couldn’t make herself care about the hurricane right now. Let it come. All she wanted was to not throw up again.
“Do you need anything?” he asked, placing his hand gently on her hip.
One tear escaped her eye and raced across the bridge of her nose. Yesterday she would have welcomed his touch. Today she wanted to fling his arm off her. “I just want to be alone.”
Marshall sighed, a long sigh ending on a resigned groan. “Are you going to be mad at me forever? Can’t we just talk?”
“Not right now,” she said. “Not when I feel like this much dirt.”
“Well, you’ve barely been eating lately,” Marshall said, a slight edge to his voice. “Maybe the lobster roll was too rich for your empty stomach?”
“Or maybe I’m just weak because I was up all night crying after you went back on everything we’ve ever agreed on,” Marley shot back.
The effort of shouting did not agree with her stomach, and five seconds later, she found herself on her knees in the bathroom, retching up whatever was left of her lunch.
Which wasn’t much. With a shaky hand, she reached up and flushed, then went to the sink and rinsed her mouth, throwing some water on her face for good measure.
At the door of the bathroom, she swayed and ended up leaning against the jamb to look at her husband.
He looked defeated. Sitting on the bed, bent at the waist, head hanging forward, his longish hair obscuring his face. What the hell had happened to them? How had they gotten here? This was not the way this week was supposed to start.
“Can I just ask you one question?” she said.
“Shoot,” he replied, looking up, his blue eyes hopeful. God, he was handsome. Why did he have to be so freaking handsome?
“Did Lincoln really convince you we shouldn’t adopt?”
If he had, she was going to kill him. He had no business interfering in their family, especially when he’d so royally screwed up his own.
Marshall blinked. “Is that what your note said?”
Marley stood up straighter, her hand fluttering to cover her flip-flopping stomach. “How do you know about the notes? Did you get one?”
“Yep,” he said, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Marley felt suddenly terrified. Had his note said something about her?
“What was in it?” she asked.
He reached into his pocket and took out a crumpled blue square, then held it out to her. She edged forward carefully, snatched the note from him, and then sat down on the bed next to him like a ton of bricks.
Marley had to narrow her eyes to read the script with all the creases in the paper and the relative darkness around them.
Lincoln is the reason your parents cut you off.
Marley experienced a full-body hot flash so violent she started shivering the second it left her.
“What?” Marley blurted.
“Marley, you’re shaking.”
“Don’t try to change the subject. Your parents cut you off? When? Why?” Her teeth began to chatter. Marshall got up, pulled her off the bed, yanked the covers down, and then steered her, hands on both arms, back down. Only after he’d tucked the covers up over her did he answer.
“A couple of weeks ago.”
“Were you going to tell me?” she demanded.
Marshall sat on the edge of the bed again, near her ankles, and sighed. “I was hoping to talk them out of it. You’ll be shocked to hear they were assholes about it. They literally just sent me the paperwork at the office.”
“Classic.” Marley scoffed and tugged the covers up over her shoulders. She concentrated on trying to stop the shivering but could only manage it for a few seconds at a time. “Did they give a reason?”
She asked the question, but she knew the reason.
Marley and Marshall had always suspected this would happen eventually.
The Fosters had long been offended that Marshall had chosen to go into public service rather than join his father’s real estate firm as legal counsel.
The only way they knew how to deal with not getting what they wanted was to withhold money.
But why now? And what did Lincoln have to do with it?
“They said since it was clear we had no intentions of having a child and carrying on the family name, they were going to ensure all the wealth stayed in the family.”
Marley slid down in the bed, trying to cocoon the shivers away. Her heart felt like it had oozed out into her chest and was now pounding against her rib cage and lungs.
“It was the day after . . .” Marshall looked at her, his eyes wells of sadness.
“After we lost Caroline.”
Caroline was the name they’d chosen for their daughter.
The daughter she had held and kissed and cooed at for ten minutes before she was taken away.
Hard as it was, Marley understood why Marshall didn’t tell her.
She had been nonfunctional for days. This news would have only compounded her feelings of disappointment and failure and rage.
“Well, screw them,” Marley said. “We don’t need their money.”
“Yeah, we do. You know we do. We can barely afford to live in the house we live in, let alone save anything,” Marshall said. “At some point it would be nice to retire, don’t you think?”
“Don’t get sarcastic with me,” Marley shot back, indignant. “Go yell at Lincoln! He’s the one that is apparently hell bent on ruining our lives.”
“Sorry. Sorry. You’re right,” Marshall replied. He took a deep breath and blew it out audibly. “It’s just all so supremely ironic.”
He wasn’t wrong. The only reason they lived in the town they lived in was for the schools.
Schools it seemed they were never going to need.
If they hadn’t moved to one of the most expensive towns in New Jersey for the benefit of a child that was no longer going to be theirs, they could have saved some money for vacations or retirement or, hell, a new car.
But now, here they were, childless and house poor, and Marshall was no longer going to receive his inheritance because they’d never had a kid.
“I think I need to sleep,” Marley said. And then tomorrow I will wake up and murder my brother-in-law.
She didn’t understand why he’d done these things, but she sure as hell was going to find out.
“One question. What did the other notes say?” Marshall asked.
Marley hesitated. These things were secrets for a reason. But she’d already talked about this with Suzy and Juliet, and in front of Gemma. If they all knew, they were hardly secrets anymore.
“Mine said Lincoln talked you into giving up on adoption. Juliet’s said . . . actually . . . I don’t know what Juliet’s said. But Josh’s said that Beckham might be Lincoln’s biological child.”
Marshall visibly flinched. “What? No. No way. Lincoln and Juliet?”
Marley nodded, swallowing hard.
“How? When?”
“At some fundraising party, apparently. After he and Hazel were already married.”
Marshall’s expression changed from intrigued and amused to Oh no.
“So good news for your parents! They might have two heirs!”
“Unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Marley said, shifting position carefully. “I guess that’s why Josh lost it on Lincoln.”
“Wow,” Marshall said. “What the hell is wrong with my brother?”
Marley sighed, then burped, then thought she was going to throw up again, but then it passed.
“And then Sean’s and Suzy’s both said something about Sean being about to lose his job or something?” She leaned back on the pillows, exhausted.
“Lincoln would never let that happen,” Marshall said. “Sean is the greatest yes-man who ever lived. Lincoln wants to do something, Sean finds him the loophole that allows him to do it.”
Marley let this settle for a moment. “You mean, like, illegal things?” Her husband shot her a look, like, Don’t be so naive, Marley. She closed her eyes and wished like anything that she was back home in her own bed, far away from this place and these people and all these revelations.
“Why would someone do this? What is the point? To make us all miserable?” Marley asked.
“Seems to me like the point was to make us all mad at Lincoln,” Marshall said, looking down at his note, held between his two hands.
“Well, good job, then.” Marley shivered. “But why?”
“I don’t know,” Marshall said.
He crumpled the note into a tight ball, then launched it toward the garbage can. It pinged off the rim and fell to the floor. As if embarrassed that he’d missed, he picked it up again and shoved it deep into his pants pocket.
Suddenly, a heaviness overtook Marley. Maybe her adrenaline had finally worn off. Whatever it was, she could barely keep her eyes open.
There was a far-off scream, and Marshall sighed. “We’re going to have to shut this party down. I should go find Lincoln and see what he and Hazel want to do.”
Marley burped again, and a little bile came up in her throat. Marshall lunged for the garbage and held it next to the bed. Grateful, she spit into it.
“Thanks,” she said, leaning back again. “Okay. I would help, but—”
“Don’t even think about it.” Marshall leaned down and planted a firm, soft kiss on her forehead. “I’m going to go get you some ginger ale. You just try to get some sleep. Hopefully everything will make sense in the morning.”