Karen Templeton - Anything for Her Marriage

Rod stood, slipping his hands in his pant pockets. Breezy. Nonchalant. Far more shaken than he dared let on. “I really do need to be going—”

Arlen stood as well. Eye to eye, he thrust one finger in Rod’s face. “You don’t want to talk, I can’t make you. But let me tell you something—keep up this pretense of everything being fine, ignoring the fact that you’re one of the most miserable bastards I’ve ever met, and you’re headed straight to cardiovascular hell. You have no life, Rod.” He backed up a millimeter, crossed his arms. Grinned. “For that matter, when’s the last time you had sex?”

Shards of tension shot up the back of his neck, as Nancy’s laughter and tenderness and sweet, lush scent slammed into his consciousness. “None of your business.”

Arlen grinned more widely, misinterpreting. “That’s what I thought. Well, here’s a news flash, son—unless you want to shrivel up into something putrid and unrecognizable, you need female companionship from time to time.” He pointed that damned finger at him again. “In your case, more than from time to time. And next time, I suggest you try marrying a woman you love.”

That got a hollow laugh. “Oh, no. Not after—”

“Screwing up twice already? So what? Took me four trips to the altar to work the bugs out. But work out they did.” His eyes narrowed. “Might for you, too, if you stopped trying to choose the kind of woman you think you’re supposed to marry and pick one you want to marry.”

“No such woman exists, Arlen,” he said mildly, ignoring the hair bristling on the back of his neck, “because I’m not getting married again. And if you value our friendship, you’ll kindly remove that nose of yours from my business.”

He turned to leave, but Arlen grabbed him before he’d gone three feet. Concern simmered in those blue eyes, concern Rod had seen many times before. “You don’t have to listen to me, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to keep my mouth shut. Not this time. Not like I did before.”

“Your concern is duly noted,” Rod said through the ghosts. Through the ever-present pain. “But I’m fine, Arlen. Really. Everything’s under control, okay?”

Out in the hall, the polished steel elevator doors shushed open as he heard from ten feet away, “And who the hell d’you think you’re kidding?”

Without answering, Rod stepped inside the elevator, let the doors close.

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