Читать книгу Married by June - Ellen Hartman - Страница 10

ALICE PUSHED OPEN THE door to the tasting room. “Did Cooper leave?”

“He liked the red velvet,” Jorie said. She thought she’d done a good job of sounding exactly like a bride-to-be after a satisfactory cake tasting, but when Alice came all the way into the room and crouched down next to the table, she knew she’d failed.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t think he was going to like it.” Jorie used two fingers to slide the silver tray away from her. The uneaten cakes were making her nauseous and she thought vomiting in Alice’s tasting room might be bad for their friendship. “Whoever named it should have done better market research because that sucker is a tough sell. Velvet is fuzzy, you know?”

Alice didn’t respond.

“He called off the engagement.”

Saying it out loud made it real. Alice sat back on her heels, apparently at a loss for words. She was only the first, Jorie realized. Everyone she told would look at her with exactly the same shock mixed with pity. She’d have to notify the caterers and the hotel. She’d need to call the priest and cancel the church, but first, she’d have to call the Wish Team. They’d pulled strings to get the National Cathedral. That call would be the cap on the dissolution of her life. Once the wedding was canceled, this whole dream would be down the drain. She’d be her mother, trying to cobble some new life together after she’d lost her latest man. There was no way she’d be able to pull her business back from the brink after this. Who would hire the wedding planner who couldn’t even drag her own man to the altar?

No.

She wasn’t going to watch her life fall apart. She regretted saying anything to Alice.

“I don’t think he meant it, though,” she said quickly. “He said he was working on the vows. It could have been cold feet.”

“Tell me what he said.”

The door to the bakery opened and the college boy who was working the register stuck his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Alice, but there’s a woman here who says she ordered five dozen coconut cupcakes and the only ones in the cooler are strawberry cheesecake.”

“They’re on the top shelf, already boxed. Find them. I’m with a bride.”

“Not exactly,” Jorie muttered.

The door closed again and Alice pulled the empty chair around and sat down, facing Jorie. “I want to hear what happened.”

“You have customers.”

“They can wait. Tell me.”

“He said he can’t marry me,” Jorie whispered. She should get up and leave before she embarrassed herself any more, but she didn’t.

The door swung open again. “Alice, what’s the register code for the apple pie?”

“Pies are free for the next fifteen minutes. Tell the customers it’s a cooked fruit freebie frenzy.” Alice narrowed her eyes at her assistant. “Also, Eliot? You go to Georgetown. You can manage the bakery by yourself for five minutes. It’s straightforward. Take in dollars. Hand over carbohydrates.”

Eliot retreated.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Alice said.

“You know what? I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not the easiest person to love. I’m private and prickly and I’ve never been good at relationships.” Jorie paused. She could hear her voice rising and she really didn’t want to lose control. She and Alice were friends, but not the kind who bared their souls—it was bad enough she couldn’t seem to stop talking. “But I thought Cooper knew me. I thought he was okay with me.”

Alice put her hands on Jorie’s shoulders. “I’ll give you private, but I don’t see prickly. Whatever Cooper’s problem is, it’s not you.”

Jorie looked down at the table.

“Right?” Alice prompted.

“Sure.” Jorie sighed. “Do you think we’ll have to give the Wish Registry gifts back?” When she and Cooper had agreed they didn’t want gifts for their wedding, her mom had been disappointed that she wouldn’t get to help Jorie fill out the registry. It had been Chelsea’s inspiration, so typical of her generous spirit, that had led to the Wish Registry. It included everything from music lessons to sports tickets to trips and video game systems—a list of wishes the foundation had matched with recipients. Her mom had insisted that they wrap each item, even if it was only a gift certificate or trip itinerary, so the recipient would have something tangible. “My mom loved that stupid registry so much.”

“And you love Cooper, right?” Alice asked gently. “You were marrying him because you love him, not for your mom, right?”

“How could I not love Cooper?” she asked.

Alice let that go. “Are you too prickly for a hug?” Any other day Jorie would have felt like an idiot for being so publicly distressed, but today seemed to be a day of firsts. When Alice pulled her in and hugged her, she closed her eyes and leaned into the contact. She did love Cooper. Or she would have loved Cooper once they were married. She was quite sure she had the right feelings about him. She liked his company. They had good talks. She liked the way he looked. They were great in bed. She’d talked to enough couples to know that she wasn’t exactly passionately in love, but she was close. If only she had a little more time.

COOPER TOOK THE FRONT steps to the Georgetown row house he’d grown up in two at a time. On the way there, he’d imagined about fifty really bad reasons his dad wanted to meet him at home in the middle of the day. It was probably politics, but Cooper, who spent his life writing inspiring speeches, had a very good imagination.

His mom opened the door when he knocked, and because she’d been on his list of possible casualties, he gave her a hug in addition to his usual kiss on the cheek. His dad had told him she was fine, but his dad had lied to him before. Of course, Nolan Murphy would call it keeping him on a need-to-know basis. His dad’s standards were far from black and white when it came to the truth.

“Good to see you, Mom,” he said. “You look great.” She did, too. Rachel Murphy was tall, blonde and fit. She also had one of the best policy minds on the East Coast. She played up her feminine side with color and flowing fabrics and bold jewelry. She said her décolletage had bamboozled more senators into more deals than half the lobbying firms in the city. When he patted her shoulder, he was relieved to feel the familiar taut muscles earned from a lifetime of tennis. “Nice and healthy.”

Rachel hugged him back and then straightened, one hand still on his forearm. “Your dad didn’t fill you in on what’s going on, did he? He let you worry?”

He nodded.

“I’m telling you, Cooper. That man knows better than to torment you. The short answer is, it’s your brother. Bailey has gotten himself into a serious mess and I don’t see a way out for him this time. Your dad and Theo are still working out the angles, but I think it’s going to mean resignation—your dad just hasn’t come to grips with that yet.”

“Resignation” sent a jolt through him. A Murphy was going to resign from his Senate seat? What the hell could Bailey have done? His mom and dad lived and breathed the Senate—they had since long before Cooper was born. His mom had married into the family, but she seemed just as proud as his dad to remind people there’d been a Murphy in the Senate since 1968.

“Resign, Mom? What happened?”

“It’s not something that happened. It’s something he did. Deliberately and without even considering what it would mean for us. For your father. For his committees. For the votes he has coming up. For anyone.”

She was past furious. Usually the family could count on her to be the voice of reason. Not this time.

“You coming in?” he asked her.

“I’ve given them my opinion already, and frankly, I shouldn’t be around Bailey right now. I would hate for this situation to get any more acrimonious than it already is, but he has really…the idea that someone with his gifts would flush it all—” Rachel patted Cooper’s arm, her face tight with controlled anger. “It’s better for everyone if I stay out of the way for a while.”

“But…” Cooper didn’t know what to say. His entire life, his mom and dad had been the team in charge of the Murphys’ political fortunes. Other families had holiday traditions, annual vacations or shared religion to keep them together. The Murphys had politics. “Don’t you need to—”

“The thing I don’t need is to see your brother right now.”

Your brother. That’s what she used to call Bailey when he was in high school and had taken some stupid risk or failed to excel in class. At least she hadn’t called him “your goddamn brother.” That was more their dad’s thing.

“Okay. Well. I’ll go in and see what Dad wants.”

She patted his arm again, this time with a tight smile. “You’re going to do fine.”

And that absolutely unreassuring little statement sent his tension soaring.

He was halfway down the hall, a few steps past the dark walnut pocket doors that opened onto the formal living room, when she called after him. “I forgot to ask, did you pick a cake?”

He closed his eyes for half a second but didn’t turn around. “The red velvet was good.”

His mom laughed. “Jorie was right, huh? You’d think you’d trust the wedding planner even if you don’t trust your bride.”

He was going to hate telling her about the wedding. He’d never liked disappointing his mom. As far back as elementary school when he’d rush home to show her his report card, he’d wanted her to be proud of him. It hadn’t always been easy for him. Bailey was the golden boy who’d been marked as their father’s political heir sometime in the few seconds between clearing the birth canal and having the doctor count all his fingers and toes. Other than ending up two inches taller, Cooper had never done anything as well as his brother. If you compared their driver’s licenses, even the height difference was erased because Bailey shared their father’s more flexible approach to the truth.

Which was probably part of the reason for this meeting. Whatever was going on was bad. Bad enough that his mom wasn’t even speaking to Bailey.

WHEN HE PUSHED THE DOOR to the study open, the first thing Cooper noticed was that his brother was standing on the far side of the room, leaning on the low table in front of the window, his back to the other two men. His dad and his cousin Theo were seated together all the way on the opposite side of the room at the library table near the fireplace, notebooks and laptops open, cell phones at their elbows, heads close together as they talked.

Holy crap. Bailey was already out.

He didn’t care what his mom had said about no decisions having been made. It was one hundred percent clear that his dad and Theo were working on a problem and Bailey…across the room by himself…Bailey was that problem. Cooper let his palm rest flat on the heavy swinging door for a moment, the weight of the wood grounding him. He’d grown up knowing his brother was the center of the family universe and now, without warning, Bailey was sidelined. He didn’t know if he should go to his brother or join his dad and cousin. Nothing about this situation was normal.

“Cooper,” his dad said. “Take a seat. We’ve got a lot to cover.”

Bailey didn’t move, still hadn’t looked at him, but his voice was bitter as he said, “You shouldn’t do this to him. Saint Cooper doesn’t know how to say no to you.”

“I’m not the one causing problems,” Nolan said. “Cooper will do what needs to be done. What’s right for the family. He understands what’s expected of him. He’s not the one who’s been carrying on behind his wife’s back with an investment banker who’s going to give birth to his illegitimate child smack in the middle of his reelection campaign!” He practically shouted the last words.

So much for having a lot to cover, Cooper thought. Senator Bailey Murphy of Pennsylvania, married to one woman and having a baby with another. Not much more to explain, was there?

Nolan pointed at the chair next to him. “Let’s go, Cooper. We need you now.”

He stepped into the room, letting the door swish closed behind him, but he didn’t sit down. Bailey still hadn’t turned around. Cooper had grown up worshipping Bailey. He was the kind of magnetic, larger-than-life guy a little brother either hated or idolized. He didn’t inspire moderate reactions in anyone. Even his election had been a landslide, but then, the voters of Pennsylvania had been making a statement about more than the telegenic, charismatic Murphy heir. Their dad had resigned his seat when he’d been tapped as a vice-presidential nominee. It had been an enormous coup, but marked the end of his career when his ticket got crushed in the election. He’d thrown his weight behind Bailey as the Senate candidate in the special election to fill his seat, and the voters of Pennsylvania turned out to honor him by electing his son.

Working with and for Bailey the past six years had deepened his relationship with his brother, but Cooper didn’t exactly worship him anymore. He still loved him. He admired him, and more than anything else, he knew him. Bailey was in pain. The way he’d lashed out now meant that whatever he’d done, it hadn’t been a whim. His brother was serious.

“Well, since I’m not married, it stands to reason I couldn’t mess around with anyone, much less an investment banker, behind my wife’s back,” Cooper said. “Besides, I’ve never been a money guy.”

“See?” the bitterness was still in Bailey’s voice. “I told you to leave him out of this—he doesn’t want to be involved.”

“And I told you to shut up about two hours ago,” Nolan said. “Try to see if you can do a better job keeping your mouth zipped than you did with your pants.”

Cooper winced, but he could hear the hurt in his father’s tone. His dad swore he only had high expectations for Bailey because he was capable of meeting them. Nothing made him angrier than the thought that Bailey was throwing away opportunities.

Theo tapped his pen on the table. “Whoa, guys, we agreed sniping at each other wasn’t productive.” He was wearing jeans and a hoodie from Georgetown and his Steelers cap was turned backward, but he still managed to sound like the three-hundred-dollar-an-hour lawyer he was. “Let’s get Cooper up to speed and then we’ll see where to go next. The clock is ticking—the more time we waste, the bigger chance we have of losing our one shot at spinning this our way.”

When he finished, Nolan was still glaring at Bailey’s back as if he hadn’t even spoken. Theo gave Cooper a “please help me” look. Cooper liked his cousin. Theo was supersmart and he had a wicked sense of humor. It made him a sought-after speaker and an excellent storyteller at the bar after a few glasses of Scotch. Not that he told stories about his family, but there were always tales to be told about somebody in Washington.

Theo thought Cooper was a soft touch—hell, everyone in his family thought he was. But he respected Cooper’s opinion. He pushed a chair out from the table with his foot and Cooper hesitated before sitting down. He didn’t want to be there, but this was his family. He’d do what he had to to help them out.

“Should I ask Mom to come in before we start?”

“Mom’s not talking to me,” Bailey muttered. “If she comes in, you have to promise you’ll check her for weapons.”

“Enough!” Nolan said.

It took twenty minutes for Theo to lay it all out for Cooper. There were details he wished he could unlearn. The woman with the baby wasn’t interested in publicity, but she wasn’t going to go away either. The baby was undeniably Bailey’s. Those were the main points. Bailey was going to be a dad—Cooper couldn’t take that in. He had to stop himself from interrupting because he kept thinking Theo was skipping something important, something that he couldn’t quite grasp. As his cousin went through the recap, the weight of the debacle settled on him.

And it was a debacle. Bailey was done. God. His brother had all the gifts in the world. He could have been a legend. Except he was still human—still the same guy Cooper had grown up with, brilliant but unpredictable.

“So, Cooper.” His dad leaned toward him, the intensity in his brown eyes as unnerving as it had been when Cooper was a kid and committed some transgression. “We need you to write the speech of a lifetime. When Bailey reads the speech, it has to convince the people of Pennsylvania, and most of all, Governor Karloski, that your brother has made one, small, forgivable mistake. That his loving wife, Jill, is sticking with him in this troubled time, that he is deeply, truly sorry for said small error, and that, with the best interests of Pennsylvania in mind, he has made the difficult, but honorable decision to step down.” He counted off each point, tapping a thick finger on the legal pad in front of him. “And most importantly, you need to lay the subtle kernel of a notion that the very best person to pick up the end of Bailey’s term is his devoted and deserving brother. That’s the linchpin, Coop. We need you in there now.”

There was so much that was wrong with what his dad had just said. For one thing, according to Theo, Jill was currently on her way to her mom’s house in the Poconos with a divorce lawyer already on speed dial. Cooper wasn’t stupid, but it really did take him a second for the most important thing his dad had said to sink in. “Me? You want me to run for the Senate?”

Theo pushed his notebook toward Cooper. He’d sketched what looked like a timeline and now he ticked off each point with his pen. “You’re not running for anything. Bailey resigns and the governor appoints someone to finish his term. That’s you. Because the primary is already over, the state party committee is allowed to select the candidate to run in the general election. That’s me. I win the seat and you’re off the hook by next January.”

“Why aren’t you taking the seat right now?” It had long been understood that if anything happened to Bailey, Theo was the designated heir.

“Too young.”

Cooper looked at his dad.

“He can’t be sworn in until he’s thirty, which he won’t be until October,” Nolan said. “If any of this had been planned, we could have worked the timing and made sure Theo was ready. But your goddamn brother hasn’t left us any wiggle room and Theo is not a viable option at the moment. Which is why we need you.”

Bailey hadn’t turned around. Hadn’t opened his mouth since their dad told him to shut up. Cooper realized what had been missing from the facts as they were laid out.

“I need to talk to Bailey,” he said. “Alone.”

“Later,” his dad said. “If we don’t get in front of this thing today, we can kiss the seat goodbye. Karloski is going to have to sell you to a lot of unhappy people. We need to give him every inch of help we can. Your uncle Stephen is on his way to Harrisburg right now.”

Cooper stood up. He’d never been comfortable with defiance. Ever since he was a kid he’d been able to talk his way out of difficult situations without confrontation. But this issue was black-and-white and had to be met head-on.

“Dad, you’re talking about this as if it’s a done deal. I’ve never run for anything in my—”

His dad interrupted, chopping the air with an impatient swipe. “You’re not running now. You’re being appointed. We’re taking care of it. But it won’t happen if you don’t sit the hell down and let us get started.”

“I won’t be long.” Cooper walked toward the door.

“You’re wasting time we don’t have,” his dad said.

He pushed the door open. His neck prickled as if his dad’s stare was a living thing, ready to leap on him. He owed his brother the chance to explain. He didn’t check to see if Bailey was coming. He didn’t need to. He heard a loud smack and guessed his dad had hit the table. In the kitchen he pulled out two beers and used the bottle opener mounted on the edge of the stainless-steel-covered island to open them. He took a long swallow from one bottle and held the other one out just as Bailey came through the door. The beer ran cold down his throat but did nothing to settle his thoughts, which were pretty much an infinite loop of “Senator Cooper Murphy” and “holy hell” and “out of their freaking minds.”

“Drinking on the job already, Cooper?”

“Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?” Bailey took a pull of his own beer, but he flicked a glance sideways at Cooper.

“Don’t be flip. Don’t pretend you’re an asshole. I’m not Dad.”

Bailey nodded and put his beer down on the island. Cooper leaned forward, exhausted by what was turning out to be an incredibly long and horrible day.

“What do you want to know?”

“You’re too smart for this to have been a mistake or a surprise. You got her pregnant on purpose. If you wanted out, why not just withdraw from the campaign?”

Bailey glanced toward the closed door and then sighed. “I don’t know why Dad never believes me when I tell him you’re the devious one.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this. Not to your staff or the family. Jill. What the hell, Bay? Why not just retire?”

“Because they wouldn’t have let me.”

Cooper started to protest but Bailey stopped him.

“Don’t pretend it’s not true. I could never stand up to them. You were in there—Dad and Uncle Stephen, Mom, even Theo—they’re relentless. Be sides, it’s not just the job, Coop. It’s my life. Bailey Murphy. I hate freaking Bailey Murphy. If Jill and I were ever in love, that ended years ago. In the past couple years, we haven’t even been friends.” He leaned back on the counter. “She’s having an affair with Cal Dobbs.”

Cooper winced. He’d heard rumors, seen some things that didn’t add up, but he’d always thought Jill had better taste. Cal had a bad haircut and a worse personality. And he cheated at golf. Among other things, apparently.

“I used to get a charge out of the job, but that’s not enough. I want a whole life. I want to be with someone I can love and do something I care about because it’s mine, not because someone decided it should be mine for no reason other than that I was born first. I met Deb and…she’s what I want. Her and the baby. As long as I was Senator Murphy, I couldn’t be with her. I couldn’t see another way out.”

“Divorce?”

Bailey shook his head.

He was right. Divorce would have gotten him out of the marriage, but he wanted out of the job, too. Out of his life.

“You could have thrown a debate. Messed up a speech.”

“No one cares about that stuff except guys like you. It wouldn’t have affected the election.”

Cooper crossed to the round wooden breakfast table in a windowed nook overlooking the backyard. He sat, putting his beer next to him, stretching his legs in front of him, wishing he could figure out what he was supposed to feel. Growing up, he and Bailey had eaten dinner at this table more often than not. When their parents were both home, the family ate in the dining room, but nights when all four of them were around at the same time had been rare. He’d been close to Bailey and he knew his brother had struggled with their parents’ expectations when he was younger, but he’d seemed to grow out of that. Maybe he’d just gotten better at hiding it.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to his dad, but he was certain of one thing.

“I’m not taking this unless you swear to me you want out. If they’re pushing you out or there’s something else going on, you tell me now and we’ll deal with it together.”

“You’d stand up for me against Dad?” Bailey asked.

“Say the word.”

“I want out,” Bailey said.

Cooper pushed himself up. “That’s it then.” When he passed his brother, Bailey grabbed his arm.

“If you’d stand up to him for me, Coop, you should do it for yourself, too. Don’t let them ram this down your throat.”

“I’m not—”

“You go back in there and they won’t give you any time to think. You’re going to be handing your life over to them because you know and I know that the Murphy legacy has always meant more to Dad and Uncle Stephen, to all of them, than any one of us. Ever since he lost the vice presidency, it’s gotten worse. Even Mom is obsessed.”

Cooper blinked at the intensity on Bailey’s face.

“If I don’t take it, what happens?”

Bailey shrugged. “They went over all that before you got here. If they can’t get you in, they’re going with Harry Small—he’s a D.A. in Pittsburgh. The trouble is, he’ll want to run for the seat and Dad thinks he’d have a better than decent chance of getting the committee to back him for the nomination.”

“So Theo wouldn’t run. No more Murphys in the Senate.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing, Coop. It’s not your problem.”

“For you and me, maybe it’s not the end of the world. But for the rest of them…they’d never forgive you.”

“I’m not sure they’re going to forgive me anyway.” Bailey took another swig of beer. “Mom’s seriously not talking to me. She said something about polluting Dad’s legacy and then she walked out.”

“They’ll forgive you.” It would take time, but they’d come around. Cooper didn’t want to think about what his brother must be feeling right now. Politics wasn’t just their family business. In a lot of ways, it was their family. “Although if we lose the seat because of this, I doubt Uncle Stephen would ever talk to you again.” He deliberately singled out their uncle, but they both knew he’d left their dad’s name unspoken. Before today Cooper wouldn’t have thought his mom would go that far, but now he wasn’t so sure. “You’re having a kid, Bay. Now isn’t the time to lose your family.”

That was probably when it sank in that Bailey had jumped ship. He’d met someone named Deb, fallen in love with her, and had a baby on the way. He’d risked everything to give himself a chance at the life he wanted, but he wouldn’t be totally happy without the family. No matter what doubts he had about taking Bailey’s seat, Cooper wouldn’t say no. Not if it meant the seat stayed in Murphy hands long enough for Theo to get elected. That would leave the door open and Bailey might be able to salvage a relationship with their parents.

Bailey glanced away. “I want you to meet Deb,” he said. “I think you’re going to like her. She reminds me a little of Jorie.”

Cooper patted his brother’s shoulder. For the second time, he found himself unable to tell a member of his family that he’d ended his engagement. “I’d like to meet her.” He hesitated, not sure what else to say. “I want you to be happy.” That was true. He’d always wanted that. He just hadn’t known how far from happy his brother was.

“Thanks.”

“A baby, man.” He pulled Bailey in and hugged him hard. “Congratulations.”

When he stepped back, Bailey was grinning—the same grin that had probably won him a few thousand votes all on its own. “Thanks, Coop. You’re the first one to say that.”

COOPER WENT BACK TO the study by himself. He’d have to get used to this, he guessed. Starting today, he was going to be standing on his own, without Bailey in front of him. That made two losses for the day—his brother and Jorie. He missed them both.

He pushed the study door open. “I’ll do it,” he announced.

“Thank God I have one son left with some sense.”

His dad stood and shook his hand. Cooper didn’t know what to feel. He’d never wanted this, still didn’t really want it. He’d spent his entire life being Bailey’s younger brother. That role was comfortable. He knew his strengths—writing speeches was one of them—but put him in front of a crowd and ask him to deliver the words on his own? No way. He could do it, but he hated it. He hoped this temporary appointee gig wouldn’t include many public speaking obligations.

“We’re going to need to get Jorie over here to brief her. Give Theo her number and he can call her.” Nolan sat back down. “Good thing Theo is one of your groomsmen. We can use the press coverage of the wedding to our advantage.”

“Uh, Dad,” he said. “I broke off the engagement.”

His dad pushed his chair back and stood so fast it tipped over. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I broke off the engagement. Right before you called me.”

“My God! You and your brother are going to ruin this family. How could you be so stupid?”

“It didn’t have anything to do with the family, Dad.”

“You don’t think Cheating Senator’s Brother Breaks Heart of Grieving Fiancée is going to be a story that gets picked up? Or did you forget some how that your wedding is the kickoff event for the tenth anniversary of the Wish Team, a group that grants goddamn wishes to people who are dying? How is the governor supposed to appoint you if you’re no better than your brother?”

“When I broke up with her, I had no idea Bailey was resigning,” Cooper said. “Maybe it’s a good thing—I won’t be distracted by the wedding. Total focus for the new job.”

He looked to his cousin for support, but Theo said, “There’s no way, Coop. You’re going to get crucified. Bailey made sure of that.”

“Get her back,” his dad said flatly.

“You can’t honestly expect me to marry Jorie because you say so.”

His dad clenched his fists.

Theo spoke up. “What did Jorie say?”

“What?”

“Is she happy? Did she agree?”

Cooper remembered the bleak look on her face. “No.”

His dad nodded eagerly. “That’s good then. Right.” He turned to Theo and continued speaking as if Cooper wasn’t in the room. “So we’ll have him tell her he changed his mind. He can get her back and no one will be the wiser.”

“No one except me! You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t have to marry her. Postpone the wedding until after the election and then you can break up again.”

“Dad, listen to yourself. I’m not doing that to her.”

“If you dump her now,” Theo said, “your breakup is going to be dragged into Bailey’s screwed-up situation which will kill her business. Who’s going to hire a wedding planner whose own wedding turned into such a public circus? No bride will want to think about an affair and a broken engagement every time she gets advice from Jorie. Go to her and explain. Buy some time for both of you so she can get out of this with her dignity intact.”

Cooper didn’t like the way his dad looked so delighted with this solution. On the other hand, Jorie had been hurt enough. Theo’s issue with her business aside, having their breakup splashed all over the news would heap more hurt on her. She’d already had an awful year, losing her mom with so little warning. He didn’t want to marry her, but he didn’t wish her any more sadness. He owed it to her to give her the choice.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“And then you’ll get right back here because we’re already behind,” his dad said.

“I’ll talk to Jorie and then come back here,” he agreed.

“Tell her we’ll need to brief her. I’ll set up an appointment and have someone call her.”

It was already starting. The switch from a private, ordinary life to a very public one. His dad wouldn’t be calling Jorie to make a casual lunch date the way a regular father-in-law would. Instead she’d be squeezed in, reminders would be sent, and his dad’s BlackBerry would beep exactly seven minutes before the meeting. Jorie had gone from fiancée to business asset in one afternoon.

He didn’t see his mom or Bailey when he was leaving the house. Outside on the sidewalk, he thought about calling a cab. It was getting dark and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He’d had a bite of cake at Alice’s, but before that maybe coffee he’d bought on the way to the church? He decided to walk. He could grab something to eat and get his thoughts together on the way.

He pulled out the small, leather-bound notebook he carried. He got some of his best ideas while he was walking and he was going to need all of his skill tonight. Somehow, between here and Jorie’s house, he had to figure out how the hell to tell her that his brother had messed things up for all of them. He flipped the notebook open, looking for a blank page. He paused at the place where he’d tried to write his wedding vows, looking at the few words he’d managed, feeling sick about what his dad had asked him to do.

If she’d agree to postpone their breakup for a few months, he’d help her plan how to back out gracefully. At least he’d have a chance to smooth over his fumbling breakup that afternoon.

Flipping the page, he wrote 1. Bailey. 2. Senate. He hesitated, his pen resting on the notebook. What next? He scribbled 3. Me + You (for now). Which worked fine as a subject heading, but the content? What was he going to tell her exactly? That they’d have to pretend to be in love for a few more months? That was it, right?

Great. He closed the book. Now all he had to do was fill in the details that would persuade Jorie. No sweat.