Jennifer Greene: The Soon-To-Be-Disinherited Wife

She climbed the steps ahead of him and ducked inside. She’d been in private planes all her life, but not this specific Lear. The inside had been customized to resemble a living room. The couches and easy chairs had seat belts, but otherwise, the white leather furnishings and polished cherry could have been in any comfortable den. Once they were inside, out of the bright sunlight, and she was finally completely alone with him, she whirled around. It was all she could take of mystifying mysteries and waiting.

“I was wrong, Garrett,” she whispered.

“No. Not you. I was the one who was wrong.”

She shook her head. “You assumed that money mattered to me. I wanted to deny that from here to Poughkeepsie. But when I looked at my life, really looked, I realized you had every reason to make that assumption.” She gulped, then spilled more out. “I’ve had everything I ever wanted. Just took it for granted. I’ve been spoiled.”

“No, you haven’t, Em. Everywhere I look, you’re giving something to others-”

“And I love giving. But it’s been easy for me, Garrett. Easy for me to keep taking handouts from my parents because I always had the excuse of the trust fund coming in. But the reality was that it was easy to spend, easy to live exactly how I wanted to live. I guess it should have been obvious to me, but a woman almost thirty who’s never lived within her means is darn spoiled. From your viewpoint, I’d be amazed if you hadn’t seen me as selfish.”

Finally that calm, quiet expression in his face seemed to crack. Suddenly his dark eyes looked liquid and naked, raw with vulnerability and something else. “Emma, you are positively the least selfish person I know.”

“Garrett, I’m trying to say that I understand. Why you thought I might have…pursued…you, knowing there was a threat to my inheritance. I realize now that you had every reason to think of me as materialistic-”

“Stop.” He scrabbled a hand through his hair. “I admit it, Emma. I did think that-for a short period of time. Where you saw that judgment as an insult, I just thought of it as life. The practical way people are in real life. But then I did some soul-searching, too. And realized that growing up, all the values I saw stemmed from money. No one in my family made a choice that didn’t include money. Value-all value-was defined by money.”

“I understand.”

“No. You can’t. It was a knee-jerk reaction for me to respond that way. I didn’t want you to need me only because of money. I didn’t want you to believe I gave a damn about your money, either. I just wanted there to be an us . So I just said the first thing that would make that money problem disappear.”

Emma jolted in shock when a stranger showed up in the cockpit door. She hadn’t realized anyone else was on the plane. The gray-haired man raised a hand in greeting, then said quickly, “We’ve been cleared for takeoff, Mr. Keating. Five minutes.” He turned, pulled the plane’s door shut then disappeared back into the cockpit after sealing that door closed, too.

Emma shot startled eyes at Garrett.

“Aw, hell,” he said. “If I were a knight in shining armor, I could pull this off the way it should be. But I’m not, Em. This is the thing-I can have you back before work tomorrow if you need to be, but there’s somewhere I want you to fly with me now. Just say yes.”

For that expression in his eyes, she’d have said yes to anything he asked. He strapped her in next to him just in time to hear the engines start up. Before they zoomed into the air, though, he put two boxes in her lap. They were both sapphire velvet-one a small square box and the other a large oblong shape.

The jet had leveled off above the clouds before he let her open the big one. She found all kinds of papers-a lab report on blood tests, the deed and title to Color, the deed to a brownstone in Manhattan, a marriage license, an appointment with an unknown man for later that same day.

She looked up, both overwhelmed and confused.

“The appointment is with an artist. The second box is empty, Emma, for now, because I didn’t want an heirloom or a standard ring. I wanted a design created that’s uniquely for you and only you. And I thought it’d be a good time to do that right after dinner.”

“After dinner,” she said faintly.

“Yeah. I thought we could get married first. I had to call your doctor to get the blood-test form. And I bought a couple of plain gold matching bands so we could have a token before your real ring is ready.”

“Married,” she said faintly.

“I was thinking about buying you an island. Just a small one. For a getaway. A place where we could skinny-dip in the pale blue water and sleep on a bed of rose petals and watch sunrises and sunsets together. But I haven’t had a chance yet to-”

“A chance,” she said faintly.

He unhooked her safety belt, then his, then, as if she weighed less than a cotton puff, pulled her directly on his lap. “Emma, please don’t argue with me. We need to be married before your thirtieth birthday. I don’t want you ever, ever worried about your independence. That’s why I put all these papers in motion, including a trust for you-a trust that’s all yours. No matter what happens to me. And as far as your trust, cookie-”

He motioned when she tried to speak.

“As far as your trust, I think we could save that for our kids. Then you can put it completely out of your mind, never think about it again. But the rest of the plan, we could keep it between us.”

“Between us,” she echoed one last time.

“You could divorce me after your birthday if you want. But this solves everything, you know? You don’t have to fret inheritances or anything else, but you can still get what should have been yours from the start. And while we’re together, I’d have the chance to woo you, cookie. To experiment with being a better white knight. To love you the way I want you to be loved-”

It took a kiss to shut him up. Who’d have guessed her so controlled, so strong Garrett could be so vulnerable? Yet when her lips grazed his, her lover came to life. A soft kiss became richer, sweeter, deeper. Eyes closed, she offered him her heart, winding her arms around him, sealing him close to her.

Finally she lifted her head and frowned. “Did I mention that I was crazy about you?”

“I don’t think it came up,” he said.

“Did I mention how much I love you?”

“No. But I was starting to believe it.”

“Only starting?” She zoomed down again and forced him to suffer through another set of kisses, a scale of kisses and touches and embraces that threatened to crumble his control…and for darn sure, hers.

“I believe, I believe,” he whispered tenderly.

“I like that phrase you used about our building something only between us,” she whispered back. “We can do it, Garrett. Build our own dynasty, our own way. Build a house. Build a family.”

“Build a life. With love framing every day in it,” he said. And that was the last either of them wasted time talking.