“Why don’t you leave him in the nursery a while?” Sharon asked. “He’s there with Ariel and all the Fennell kids. I bet he’s fine. He’s always a little less rambunctious when his cohorts are around. Just give him some time. Maybe it’ll be good for him.”
Meg thought it over. Maybe Sharon was right. Besides, the Fennells and Gills were flying home in the morning, and who knew when they’d all get together again? Everyone was always so busy. This trip to Bermuda had been serendipitous in that they could get together, regardless of the lie for which they’d done it.
Stephen, up the beach, lifted a beer to her in salute, and she waved him over.
He jogged the hundred feet from the waves and wrapped one arm around her and the other around Sharon, grinning like a fool.
Meg sighed.
“I’ve got to give you credit, Meg. I thought this ruse would be a major drag, but you’ve got pretty decent guy friends. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
She didn’t. They weren’t her friends. Sure, she was pleasant when in their company, but calling them “friends” would have been an exaggeration.
“We’re going to wrap this thing up,” she said. “The photographers must be wandering off in search of dinner or some other more famous bone to gnaw on. Tell the guys, will you?”
“Are you kidding? This thing’s just getting started! Perfect excuse to party. We’ve got sun, sand, all-you-can-drink booze courtesy of your last alimony check. Oh, and cake. I don’t even care what kind.”
“You eat the cake. I’m going to bed.”
He clucked his tongue and shook his head at her girlfriends. “She always was a party pooper. There was this one time when she was twelve—”
Before he could relay the embarrassing tale, Meg smacked the back of his perfectly coiffed head.
“Ow! Keep that up and you’ll be a divorcee again in no time.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, and he put his hands up, already backing away.
“All right. All right. I’ll tell ’em.” He spun on his bare foot and took off at a canter toward the geek huddle.
Yep, he fit right in with them…bunch of cerebral know-it-alls.
“All right, lady,” Sharon said, moving behind her. She picked up the train of Meg’s off-the-rack dress and held it off the sand. “You lead, I’ll follow.
Meg didn’t need another prompting. She stomped toward the resort, gripping her dress’s front hem, and didn’t look back as the first droplets of rain tickled her face.
Why bother?
Chapter 2
The girls got Meg unzipped, hung her dress, and left her to commune with the silence in her empty bungalow. Well, hers and Seth’s. It was registered to Mr. and Mrs. Rozhkov, which entitled her to be there. Now there was just the small matter of where her mister would be sleeping.
Perched on the edge of the king-size bed, she fidgeted with the backs of her pearl earrings a moment before removing them. Sleeping with Seth wouldn’t actually be something she’d classify as a problem. Might even be nice.
He stood in stark contrast to everything her ex was. Where Spike had been average in height and slim in build, Seth was powerfully built and well more than a foot taller than Meg’s five-feet even. How different would it be with a man that size? He’d probably treat her like a chew toy. Tiny pocket-sized wife.
She rolled her eyes at the thought, and folded her fingers over the borrowed earrings. She wasn’t cut out to be anyone’s wife. Hadn’t she learned that lesson?
Contrary to what she told the girls, she wasn’t quite ready for bed. More than anything, she’d just needed some space—some time to contemplate this thing she’d done, and figure out what would happen next. No one had really thought that far out in advance. When she and Seth went home to North Carolina, were they supposed to share an address, at least on paper? Did anyone really care where he lived?
It wasn’t like he needed her to get a green card or anything. He was well employed and the concept of deportation probably didn’t even hit his radar screen.
Blowing out a breath, she reached for the phone on the nightstand and lifted it from its base. She dialed Carla’s room number.
“He’s fine. He can stay,” her friend said without waiting for Meg to say hello.
“I don’t want to burden you. You’ve got your three—”
“And Ariel, too, while her parents pack. What’s one more?” Carla interrupted. “The baby is asleep. The kids are watching old cartoons and having a late snack. Toby can barely keep his eyes open. If he falls asleep there on the sofa, why move him?”