Abby Gaines - The Groom Came Back

“Of course,” he said, too easily.

Callie telegraphed her disbelief.

He grinned, but he didn’t back down. “I’ll order a special bouquet from Fresher Flowers for the occasion.”

“You know what she’d like more than flowers?”

“Yes.”

Callie blinked. “You do?”

“You’re going to say half an hour of my time, or something else that makes me look mean.”

She bit back on a smile. “She’d love for you to take her shopping.”

“You mean, to choose a gift?”

Callie shrugged. “Not necessarily. Brenda always runs into at least thirty people she knows when she’s out shopping. She’d get to show you off.”

“I’m not a prize exhibit,” he muttered, irritated.

Callie folded her arms across her chest. “The limited sightings of you over the past several years convinced me you’re a rare species.”

“I may not have been in Parkvale, but I’m always only a phone call or a flight away.” His voice was tighter now.

“You mean in case of a medical emergency?”

“I didn’t mean for a shopping emergency.”

“Your folks aren’t sick, but I think your mother is close to her emotional breaking point.”

Jack paused. “That diagnosis seems a little extreme. If there’s anything seriously wrong, believe me, I’ll see it.” He switched into the right lane, ready to exit the interstate. “But, Callie…” he flashed her the smile she suspected was calculated to make her roll over to have her tummy tickled “…I really appreciate your concern, and I know Mom and Dad do, too.”

His crazy-patient voice was back.

THEY ARRIVED IN Germantown, an affluent part of Memphis, at seven, and pulled up outside a solid three-story Georgian-style house.

Callie shook herself out of her contemplation of Jack’s arrogant denial that she might have a better handle on his parents than he did. “What’s this guy’s name again?”

“Sam Magill. His wife is my friend Adam Carmichael’s stepmother.”

“Adam Carmichael, the TV network guy?”

He nodded. “His family owns Memphis Channel Eight—do you know him?”

“A few years back, a girl from Parkvale—Casey Greene, whose sister Karen is one of my best friends—conned her fiancé into a surprise wedding show on Channel Eight. The guy dumped her on air and she ended up marrying Adam Carmichael in a fake wedding. Only it turned out to be legit.”

“None of that makes the slightest sense.” When Jack said things like that, his voice held a hint of a British accent that in other circumstances Callie might have found appealing.

“Casey and Adam must be the ‘irregular marriage situation’ you were talking about,” she said.

He pulled the key from the ignition. “If Sam dealt with the mess you just described, our divorce will be a piece of cake.”

The tall, slim woman who opened the wide front door was in her late fifties and extremely stylish.

“I’m Eloise Magill. You must be Callie.” She gave Callie’s hand a sympathetic squeeze. “And you must be Jack.” Her tone was cool, as if whatever was wrong with their marriage had to be his fault. Callie decided she liked Eloise.

“Sam’s just finishing a phone call.” She led them into a living room where the décor was an eclectic mix of chunky masculine furniture and feminine fripperies. Leather couches flanked a pink-and-gray-striped love seat; a silk fan, beaded glass coasters and a copy of Vogue cluttered the solid wooden coffee table. Somehow, it worked.

Sam, who had eyebrows bushy enough to house a small colony of beetles, and punctuated his telephone conversation with a startling smoker’s cough, acknowledged them with a wave.

A moment later, he hung up. “Thanks for looking after my guests, darling.” He took Eloise’s hand for a moment, then reluctantly relinquished it. The way he looked at her, and the way she looked right back, suggested this couple would never need a divorce lawyer.

Callie put a few more inches between her and Jack. Sam shook hands with them, directed them to one of the two leather couches, and sat down opposite. Eloise left the room with a promise to bring coffee.

“Why don’t you two tell me your situation?” Sam unscrewed the cap of his pen. “Then we can work out how best to proceed.”

Jack relaxed into the couch. He liked the look of Sam, and his calm logic. Even better, Callie had gone unexpectedly quiet. For the first time since he’d landed back in the U.S.A., he felt as if he was making progress toward the purpose of this trip.

He outlined to Sam how and why they’d got married. Even keeping it to the bare bones, the story didn’t get any better with the telling. He had a sudden inkling why Diana, his ex-girlfriend, had been so shocked to learn the truth, and why the gossip had spread so mercilessly among his colleagues.

“And now you want a divorce,” Sam said mildly, as if the end to this charade wasn’t long overdue. He tapped his pen against his legal pad. “Normally I’d recommend a husband and wife seek separate representation.”

“It’s not a proper marriage,” Jack said. “We both want to end it, as soon as possible.” He glanced at Callie for corroboration, but she was staring down at her hands, her cheeks sucked in as if she might start carping on about his parents again if she opened her mouth the tiniest bit.

It was probably best she didn’t talk.

Sam flipped his pen between his fingers. “My first duty as your lawyer is to recommend that you attempt to resolve your differences through mediation.”

“We barely know each other. We don’t have differences. ” Jack discounted the disagreement they’d had in the car, which had been pretty tame. Beside him, Callie’s fingers twitched.

Sam nodded. “Okay, you’re waiving mediation. Next, you need to consider that under Tennessee law, the default position is an equitable division of the matrimonial property.”

Callie perked up. “Do neurosurgeons earn more than florists?” she asked brightly. “I mean, I know they’re a lot more important. ”

Jack shot her a look, one that worked well to crush know-it-all medical residents. She was entirely uncrushed. Her blue eyes sparked the way they had the day he’d arrived in town. Ignore her.

“We’ve agreed we’ll each take out of the marriage what we brought into it,” he told the lawyer.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Callie, who sighed theatrically, then nodded. The lawyer pursed his lips, and Jack was pretty sure the man was stifling a smile.

So much for their truce. Jack gritted his teeth. He’d gone easy on Callie in the car when she’d hassled him about his parents. Big mistake. Now she thought she could mess him around. He shouldn’t have given in to that unexpected sense of guilt that he might have exploited her desperate situation all those years ago.

“I’ll prepare the paperwork you’ll both need to sign in order to waive your share of your spouse’s assets,” Sam said. “Now, have a look at this.” He held out a sheet of paper, which Callie took before Jack could. “It’s a list of the permissible grounds for divorce in Tennessee. You’ll need to choose one.”

Jack refused to crane his neck to see over Callie’s shoulder. He could wait.

She made a show of tapping her chin with a finger, apparently deep in contemplation, then pointed to an item high on the list. “I like this first one. ‘Either party is naturally impotent and incapable of procreation.’” She jerked her head in Jack’s direction and gave Sam a significant look.

Jack clenched his teeth, but by superhuman effort refrained from declaring to Sam that he was not impotent. Because on that subject, there was such a thing as protesting too much. Still, he couldn’t hold back a growl.