Chapter 13
Cole
What does one wear when “meeting”—because I’d known them my whole life—the parents of the woman they drunkenly married in Vegas? The woman they’d embarked on a marriage of convenience journey with?
If anyone could crush a marriage of convenience, it would be Willa. From what I could tell, she had an incredible ability to compartmentalize.
We’d gotten along well these past few days. Granted, we’d only seen each other while we worked out in the mornings and watched Jeopardy at night before I went to my room to knit and listen to audiobooks and she read her medical journals.
So far, it was easy. Honestly, it would probably be a very enjoyable six months. I was more energized and motivated than I had been in years.
Willa could be trusted to stay the course too. She wasn’t the type to break rules or cross the line.
I was the weak link here. The guy who’d never met a line he didn’t want to cross or a rule he didn’t want to break.
But I was working on it, improving myself and figuring out my shit. This marriage was a wake-up call, and I was answering it.
So I dug out a suit, one of many from my hockey days that had gone unused for the past two years.
Putting it on was strange. It was a bit baggy, which was yet another reminder to step it up in the gym. With that reminder came a flood of negative thoughts about how I’d gone from robust pro athlete to pathetic schlub in record time.
I squeezed my eyes shut and willed the negative thoughts to recede. Not tonight. I could spiral later, after I’d met Willa’s parents.
In the living room, I sat on the couch, waiting for Willa, with the bouquet I’d picked up on the coffee table in front of me. The moment she had come home from work, she’d run into her room to change.
The pressure was on. She’d made no secret of how much she loved and admired her parents, and I wanted to impress them. It was unlikely, of course, but that didn’t change my desire to show them that I’d be a good husband to their daughter.
I was fighting the panic when her bedroom door creaked open. And when she stepped out, all the air escaped my lungs.
She was wearing a soft green sweater over a short black skirt with tights. The look was classy and beautiful while displaying every one of her curves. Her blond hair was down around her shoulders, and her lush lips were glossy.
“Are you wearing a suit?”
I forced air into my lungs so I could respond. “Yes.” I stood, brushing off my thighs. “We’re going to meet your parents, so I want to make a good impression.”
Her lips quirked up teasingly. “You know my parents.”
“Yeah, your dad tortured me with flu shots when I was a kid, but this is different.”
She sashayed to the coat closet by the door and shrugged on her coat, then tied the belt thingy. Even under the thick wool, the curve of her waist and the swell of her breasts were prominent.
God, I shouldn’t be salivating over my wife like I was. We had a partnership, an arrangement.
She had been far kinder to me than I deserved, so I would do the same.
I’d be the best goddamn fake husband on this planet. But first, I had to stop staring at her.
The Savards met us at the doorway of their boxy grand colonial with a brick front and a tree-lined driveway.
“Dr. Savard,” I said, shaking the man’s hand.
He was smaller and more frail than I remembered. He had been a fixture in my life since birth. A strapping man with thick silver hair and a wide smile. He was much thinner now, and his shoulders were stooped as he leaned on a cane.
“And Dr. Lahey-Savard,” I said, bending to give Willa’s mother a kiss on the cheek. She was short and plump, with big green eyes and a neat blond bob. When I straightened, I handed her the bouquet.
“Please call me Susan,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “And come inside. It’s freezing out here.”
Willa had her arm around her father as we entered the house. “How are you feeling?” she asked as Susan led us into the living room.
“Been better,” he said with a wave of his right hand. “This one still isn’t back up to snuff, but we’ll get there.”
Willa gave him a warm smile. “Have you been doing the physical therapy exercises?”
“Yes,” he huffed. “Your mother makes me every day. And trust me, I’m not enjoying it.”
She patted his hand, her eyes dancing with mirth. “Good.”
The interior of the Savards’ home was spotless but homey.
In the middle of the room stood an upright piano covered with framed photos of the three of them.
As I got closer, I studied each image. There were several graduation photos of Willa, and in each one, she wore a different type of gown. Damn, how many degrees did she have?
The three of them on skis, playing tennis, and snorkeling.
They looked every bit the happy, loving family.
My chest ached with a jealousy I knew wasn’t fair.
But my own family had been a shit show my entire life.
My mother had taken off to Florida years ago, and aside from an occasional phone call, I had no contact with her.
She hadn’t shown interest in my life when I was a kid, and it only diminished more after I’d grown up.
Even when I’d played in Tampa for two years, she hadn’t come to a single game. I couldn’t blame her, really. She deserved a fresh start after all the shit my dad put her through.
My father, of course, was a resident of the federal penitentiary. And as a free man, he’d done nothing but belittle me.
Debbie was the closest thing I had to a loving family.
And she wasn’t blood.
Though in her mind, I was her sixth son, and she would not hear otherwise.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Susan asked. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Water would be great,” I said with a nod.
Willa helped her dad to the couch. It was difficult, witnessing how slow and shaky his movements were. This was the man who had won the fishing derby every summer when I was a kid.
“We were surprised,” Willa’s mother said softly when she returned with a tray of drinks.
“I want to apologize,” I said, my hands and underarms already sweating.
My instincts were telling me to loosen my tie, but I’d committed to the suit, so I’d make it work.
“I should have come to you both, declared my intentions and asked for your permission.” I reached over and took Willa’s hand. “But we got swept up in the moment.”
They shook their heads in unison, and Susan smiled. “No, I don’t want you to think we’re not happy. And please, ask permission?” She arched a brow. “My daughter would have killed you.”
Roger laughed. “Just like I taught her.”
“Thanks.” Willa squeezed my hand. “It felt right.”
“I understand, sweetheart,” her father said. “I took one look at your mother thirty-six years ago and knew.” He turned to me. “You’re lucky, son. Her mother made me wait two years before she agreed to marry me.”
The gentleness in his tone imbued me with a sense of relief, and the tension released from my shoulders. While Willa showed them the few photos on her phone of our Elvis-officiated nuptials, I focused on breathing deeply.
These people had every reason to dislike me.
To look down on me.
But they didn’t.
They loved their daughter so much that they didn’t even consider their own feelings on the matter. If she was happy, then they were too. They did not have their own agenda, and they weren’t trying to manipulate her in order to bend her to their will.
I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. That kind of unconditional love.
Behind their smiles, they may have had legitimate concerns. But they didn’t let them show. For Willa’s sake. They put her first.
I thought about my own father, who would spend hours in the car on the way home from hockey games, screaming at me and calling me a loser while picking apart every mistake I had made.
Even on my good days on the ice, he was angry at me.
For years, I’d throw up in the locker room while getting cleaned up and ready to head home.
Being in his presence brought about crippling anxiety.
I was nothing more than a tool used to make him look good.
To bring him glory and back slaps from the other hockey dads.
Though it was never enough. On top of that, my existence alone was the reason he’d left Debbie and my brothers.
That was a weight I’d carried since the moment I discovered that truth, and I’d always assumed that I’d carry the hurt with me forever.
That it was part of who I was. But as I sat at the Savards’ table and chatted as we passed the mashed potatoes, I felt some of that load lighten.
Just an hour with this happy, functional family made the pain a little easier to carry.
“How’s the office? You’ll tell me if things are too overwhelming, right? You’ve taken on a big workload.”
“Dad,” Willa sighed. “We’re not talking about work.”
“Is Marty helping?” he asked, ignoring her annoyed response. “He’s an excellent doctor, but he’ll give you hell to entertain himself.”
“I’ve noticed, and yes, he is very helpful. Every day he’s there, he’s sure to give me a lengthy list of everything I either did wrong or not up to his standards.”
Both the Savards laughed.
“Sounds like Marty.”
“Things are great,” Willa said, straightening in her chair. “Really. I’m learning and growing. The job is hard, but I’m up for the challenge.”
“Of course you are. You’re a Savard. It’s in our blood.”
“Roger,” Willa’s mom chided.
“I’m not putting pressure on her, Sue,” he said, holding up his left hand. “I’m only saying. Our girl was born for this.”
He turned toward me, his face the most animated it had been since we arrived. “Willa was diagnosing her dolls at four years old. Did her first appendectomy on a Cabbage Patch Kid at six.”
“Dad.”
He waved her off, sitting straighter than he had all night and beaming with pride. “Won the state science fair in eighth grade. She cultured and grew a flu virus and tested several household disinfectants to determine which actually killed the germs. We knew then she was destined for med school.”