Second Honeymoon. Laura Abbot

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      Justin followed, rubbing a hand over his stomach. “I’m starving. Can we please eat?”

      Well, why not? Meg thought to herself. Let the Harpers experience what we do. Dinner without the lord and master. “Call your sister,” Meg said, and instructed Bud to set the meat on the table.

      Marie readjusted the parsley around a plate of deviled eggs. Apparently Meg hadn’t even done that satisfactorily. “Surely we’re not going to eat without Scotty.”

      Meg clenched her fingers. “He should be here any minute. He wouldn’t want us to let the food get cold.”

      “Those steaks are perfect now, sweetheart,” Bud added, by way of support.

      Marie stared wistfully out the kitchen window. “It doesn’t seem right not to wait.”

      Hayley and Justin took their places at the table. “Come on, Gramma and Grampa,” Justin pleaded. “Let’s eat.”

      Reluctantly Marie picked up the plate of eggs. Meg gave one last desperate look down the street before following with the salad and baked potatoes.

      Fortunately, the kids kept the conversation going and, to Meg’s relief, displayed obvious pleasure in their grandparents’ visit, asking them numerous questions about the great motor-home odyssey. Hayley, especially, seemed eager to make them feel at home. Meg toyed with her salad, resentment robbing her of an appetite. How could she and Scott maintain this charade of a marriage for even one more day, much less carry off an anniversary? And when would they have the opportunity to make the decisions so vital to their future? Find time to communicate those decisions to their children and the Harpers? First, though, before anything could happen, Scott had to appear.

      As if her thoughts had conjured him up, she heard the garage door open, followed by the sound of a car pulling in.

      “That must be Scotty.” Marie nearly knocked her chair over, bounding up to greet her son. Bud rose, too, but the kids went right on eating.

      From her seat, Meg watched Scott embrace his parents, then heard him apologize for being late. “…last-minute changes the creative director needed to go over.” Meg flinched. Brenda Sampson. It figured.

      “It’s good to have you here,” Scott said as he accompanied his parents back to the dining room, false heartiness apparent in his conciliatory gestures. “Sorry, honey,” he mumbled, resting a hand on Meg’s shoulder. “Kids, I’m glad you didn’t wait. I’ll bet you were hungry.”

      “Starving,” Justin said, helping himself to a second steak.

      Hayley pointed to her brother’s plate. “Too much red meat isn’t good for you.”

      “At least I’m not a picky eater, like you.”

      “Children,” Meg admonished.

      Somehow Meg endured the rest of the dinner, watching stoically as Marie and Bud hung on Scott’s every word about the Jordan department-store account.

      At one point, Marie leaned over, and, eyes glowing, asked Meg, “Aren’t you proud of your husband?”

      Even as Meg reluctantly murmured, “Yes,” she had to admit that in some ways she was proud of his accomplishments. But why did she have to play second fiddle? Why couldn’t she feel as important to him as his new accounts?

      Between the main course and dessert, Bud tapped on his wineglass. “I have an announcement to make.”

      Hayley and Justin made eye contact as knowing grins formed on their faces. Meg went on alert. Her children were seldom in cahoots.

      “Saturday, you two—” he nodded at Scott and Meg “—will celebrate a milestone twenty years of marriage, and if you don’t have anything special planned…”

      Meg was overcome with bitterness. Anything special? Just a separation. Is that special enough?

      “…Marie, Hayley, Justin and I have arranged to take you to dinner at the country club to celebrate.”

      Scott caught Meg’s eye briefly as if to say “Don’t ruin this for them.” Then he said, “Mom, Pops, that’s really not necessary.”

      “Nonsense,” Marie interrupted. “We are so proud of this wonderful family you’ve created. You’re both busy, talented people who somehow manage to keep the spark alive. That needs to be celebrated.”

      Meg, cheeks flaming, nearly choked as she responded, “That’s very generous of you.”

      What she was really thinking was that, unbelievably, she and Scott had his parents fooled. For the moment, anyway.

      EXHAUSTED, SCOTT FINISHED brushing his teeth, turned out the bathroom light and made his way to bed where Meg was already sleeping—or pretending to—her back to him, one arm tucked under her pillow. There’d been no opportunity to talk with her, to apologize for being late. Not that he could have convincingly explained what had detained him. She wouldn’t care. Especially if his reason involved Brenda. And it did.

      He should’ve been home to greet his parents. He could have called. But cowardly as it was, he hadn’t wanted to hear Meg’s nagging accusations; he was harboring more than enough guilt himself. On the drive home, he’d second-guessed his motives. Could his conversation with Brenda have waited until tomorrow? Not if they wanted to get the logo redesign ready for Monday’s pitch to the Jordans. Brenda had needed an immediate decision. They couldn’t afford to blow this deal—it was the firm’s big chance to nail a high-profile client.

      He lay on his back, head cradled on his hands, willing sleep to come. Moonlight striped the far wall. He heard muffled movements above as his parents prepared for bed. He’d been glad to see them—and grateful for their presence, buffering him from Meg’s hostility. Lately it seemed most of his conversations with her centered on his apologizing. For what? Making a living? Seeking success?

      Childish though it might be, he had basked in the approval in his mother’s eyes as he told about the possibility of getting the Jordan account. But lying there, he knew it wasn’t her approval he craved.

      It was Meg’s.

      He turned on his side, studying the curves of his wife’s body, one bared shoulder creamy against the soft green blanket. He raised a hand to trace the indentation of her waist, the rise of her hip, but stopped himself, knowing she would tense under his touch.

      He desperately needed to bury himself in her, to leave behind all his macho bluster and immerse himself mindlessly in her love and acceptance. To lose the public Scott Harper in an explosion of pure lust—and intimacy.

      But that wasn’t going to happen. Hadn’t happened in a long time. Meg didn’t want him. The sooner he came to grips with that reality, the better. But it hurt. And made him feel more vulnerable than he’d ever thought possible.

      BUD JERKED AWAKE, the elbow to his ribs an urgent summons. “What?”

      “You’re snoring again. Roll over,” Marie said, pushing gently against his shoulder.

      “Okay,” he mumbled, sorry he’d disturbed her, but equally sorry she’d СКАЧАТЬ