Waking Up Married(39)

Such a contrast to the clean lines and neat cut of his     made-to-measure everything else. At least everything she’d seen so far. But     perhaps that had just been Vegas.

There was so much left to learn.

Her mother’s parting words from their previous morning’s     conversation whispered to her.

“You’re going to have to step up your game         if you want to hang on to this one...”

She shook her head. Some advice.

There was no game. There never had been.

She knew better, thanks to the lessons learned at her mother’s     knee.

Turning from the relic of the Old West, her gaze caught on the     floor-to-ceiling glass doors making up the southwest wall. The inky black of the     early hours had faded to blue and the landscape around them had begun to take     shape. Palms stretched like dark cutouts against the morning sky and elusive     streaks of white rushed the shores.

Slowly she stepped forward, wanting to put her mother’s words     and the memories they spurred behind her. Lose herself in the beauty revealed by     the approach of the rising sun. Only, the past had already taken hold. All the     “daddies” who’d walked through her life. The great guys Gloria Scott had been     willing to do anything—be anyone—to keep ahold of.     The wild changes to her mother’s personality and personal goals heralding the     arrival of each new man. Megan’s own determination not to let this one get too     close—no matter how nice or fun he was—because it wouldn’t last. It never     lasted. The tug at her little girl’s nerves once things started to slip. The     sidelong looks, the downward pull of a mouth. The hope that maybe she was wrong.     That maybe if she was good enough, if she tried hard enough, this one wouldn’t     leave.

But they all did.

Eugene, Charlie, Pete, Rubin, Zeke, Jose and Dwayne. Seven     husbands come and gone, and still her mom hadn’t figured it out. A person     couldn’t make something last if it wasn’t meant to,     like a person couldn’t be someone they weren’t. And     trying only prolonged the inevitable.

Some were easier to let go. And some—she let out a heavy sigh     as the memory of sun-crinkled eyes winking at her from across a worn dock     squeezed her heart—the echoes of their absence were so deeply ingrained in her     psyche they touched every relationship she’d ever attempted.

Her fingers trailed the wood frame of the sliders as a thread     of anxious tension stitched through Megan’s belly. In spite of her determination     not to, was she just repeating her mother’s mistakes?

She’d married a man she’d known for less than a day. A man     who’d been so sold on the woman he met that first night—a night she couldn’t     remember—he was determined not to let her get away. Sure, Connor thought he knew     her. But what if he was wrong? What if she hadn’t been herself and he was so     caught up in the hard-won victory he was after that he simply hadn’t realized it     yet?

How long before he saw past the illusion of who he wanted her     to be—and actually saw her?

Would it be within the span of this trial or would it be after     she’d finally let herself believe—

“You’re up early.”

Megan spun around to find Connor watching her from the hall, a     pair of light cotton gray pajama bottoms hanging dangerously low on his trim     hips. The bare expanse of his cut chest was emphasized by the casual way he’d     leaned one arm at the edge of the open frame doorway.

“So are you.”

God, he was gorgeous with his mess of silky hair standing every     which way and a day’s growth roughing up the perfection of his square-cut jaw,     giving him a sort of roguish look to match the smile and eyes.

“My bed got lonely,” he offered with a wink that did something     crazy to her insides and reminded her of how impossible it was not to get caught     up in this man’s convictions when they were together.

He believed in them. Was so ready to take that headlong dive     into their future. Made it seem so simple.