Comprehension hit Billy’s face like a hammer. “My God, he did, didn’t he?”
He lifted me gently off his lap and set me beside him. Stood, shaking his head in apparent amazement. “On the minuscule chance one of his little tadpoles got to your egg instead of mine.” He was at the bar, already pouring a drink. “Gotta hand it to the guy, nobody does ‘hero’ better than he does. So, when’s the big day? Am I invited?”
I would have been mad if it hadn’t been so obvious he was in pain. I was, however, plenty exasperated. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not marrying Mark.”
“Why not? You love him—don’t look at me like that. You know you do. Maybe not as much as you love me—I’m not so modest I won’t concede that—but he’s better husband material. Well, if you don’t mind his dangerous career choice. But then again, what’s danger to Superman? No doubt bullets bounce off him.”
“Oh, like your jobs aren’t dangerous? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I’m not marrying anyone,” I ground out. “God, you are such an idiot. How I can still love you beyond reason is incomprehensible!”
I stomped off to the kitchen and got myself a glass of water. He followed. Leaned over me from behind again. “Beyond reason?” he said softly.
“Yes. What reasonable woman would put up with you?” I might have sounded grumpy.
I felt his lips touch a sensitive spot behind my ear. “Ciel, at the risk of repeating myself … I’m sorry. And I hope you didn’t mean it about not marrying anyone, because you know our mothers will have us at the altar five seconds after they find out.”
I spun around to face him. “God, Billy, we can’t tell them! They’ll plan a wedding.”
“Horrifying,” he said, the humor popping back into his eyes.
“You know I hate weddings!”
He ran his fingers through my hair, finishing with a tiny tug. “We could always elope.”
“We can’t—they’d kill us,” I said, conveniently forgetting that a moment before I wasn’t going to get married at all.
“They’ll forget all about it once they hear about the baby.”
True. “But what if it is Mark’s?” I said. “How would you feel then?” It had to be asked.
A slew of emotions flitted over his face. “Honestly? I think more relieved than anything else. If you’re worried I wouldn’t love it, all I can say is you’re wrong. I would love any child of yours. Even”—he smiled ruefully—“mine. But I admit I would be a more relaxed father if I knew the baby wasn’t loaded with my genes, like some kind of ticking time bomb.”
Something we’d obviously have to work through. Later.
A determined look settled over his face. “Come on. Let’s do it right now.”
“What? Are you crazy? It’s not like going out for ice cream, Billy.”
“Sure it is. We can get a license at City Hall. Hell, they can probably make it official right there. And then we will go for ice cream. Or maybe hot chocolate would be more in keeping with the weather.”
“But—”
“You know once our mothers find out you’re pregnant they won’t rest until we’re married. Why not do it on our terms? Think of it as the anti-wedding,” he said.
It did make sense, and he was right about our mothers. “I don’t know…”
He hit me with the Doyle eyes. Big, blue, and beseeching. What choice did I have?
You do have a choice, my inner troublemaker said as an image of Mark appeared in my head. Mark hugging my belly instead of running away from it. Mark offering me whatever I needed without hesitation, no matter what it cost him personally.
Shut up! I thought back—loudly—at the meddlesome bitch. Billy had a reason for running. He came back—that’s the important thing. And those eyes …
I swallowed hard. It was one thing to keep what I’d done with Mark from Billy if I was honestly trying to spare his feelings. And I was. But didn’t he deserve to know all the facts, no matter how painful, before he committed himself to something as serious as marriage?
“Billy, there’s something else I think you better know.”
He held a finger to my lips. Closed his eyes briefly and gave a small shake of his head. “The only thing I need to know is that you love me. I don’t need to hear more.”
I pulled his hand away. “I do love you, you know I do. But you should know—”
“No. I … I don’t want to know anything except that you love me. That’s all that matters to me, Ciel.”
I nodded, blinking back tears, and looked down at my pretty lambswool sweater. Rudolph’s nose was still flashing. “Well, I am wearing white.” I took a deep breath. “What the hell. Let’s do it.”
“One thing first,” he said, the fear in his eyes receding. “Can we please throw out whatever crawled into your purse and died? Because I don’t think they’ll let us into City Hall with a biohazard.”
* * *
The Marriage Bureau at the Manhattan Office of the City Clerk was only moderately busy. We filled out some forms, showed our driver’s licenses, and boom, we had a license. There was a minor hiccup when we found out we’d have to wait twenty-four hours to do the deed unless we got a judicial waiver. Billy batted his gorgeous eyelashes at a few harried city employees, who promptly contacted a handy judge, and boom, waiver on the way.
Al and Candy had agreed to be our witnesses. Candy was actually excited about it—she thought it was the most romantic thing ever. We didn’t mention the reason behind the big rush, and she was couth enough not to ask. Al … well, he didn’t say much, but I suspected he was beginning to wish the shopping expedition hadn’t been cancelled.
Candy had come in with us while Al found secure parking. Not wanting to draw attention to her occupation, she’d left her firearm locked in the car, but she told us not to worry, she was “pretty good” with her hands. If she was anywhere near as proficient as Laura—and from the way she carried herself, I suspected she was—I knew there was no reason for concern. If Loughlin, or one of his minions, had the temerity to come into this building after us, at least we could be sure they didn’t have a gun. And I had a feeling none of them would stand a chance unarmed against Candy, much less Al or Billy. Possibly even me. (Okay, that was probably a stretch. But I was getting better at the hand-to-hand stuff.)
After we got the judicial waiver, we took a number and hung out with half a dozen other couples who’d chosen to join their lives together without the fuss of a big wedding. The waiting area was pleasant enough for a municipal building, furnished with modern sofas upholstered in some sort of industrial-strength green fabric. (Billy said it really set off my eyes.)
When Al joined us he had a bouquet of white roses tied together with red ribbon, which he handed to me. “Every bride oughta have flowers,” he said.
“Why, Al, you big ol’ softie!” Candy said. “Where’d you find those?”
His cheeks reddened, and he shrugged. “My brother’s a florist. He brought ’em over for me.”
I held them to my nose. Surprisingly for modern roses, they actually had some fragrance. “This is so sweet. Thank you!” I said, and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. He had to lean down so I could reach.
“Aw, it’s nothing. I have a daughter about your age. I hate to think she wouldn’t have flowers at her wedding.”
My father’s face popped into my head, quiet and handsome and strong. Now he’d never get to walk me down the aisle. He’d never complain about it, never say a thing to make me feel guilty (Mom would pick up the slack for him), but I knew it would matter to him.
I turned to Billy, tears starting to fog my vision. “I can’t do this. I can’t get married without my father! Please say you understand,” I said, practically hyperventilating in my effort to get the words out before I dissolved into an embarrassing heap of weeping womanhood.
Gawd. I didn’t even have a tissue.
Billy took me by the shoulders and looked me right in my watery eyes. “You know this will mean a wedding, don’t you? And our mothers won’t do small. It will be a full-on Mo and Ro extravaganza,” he said seriously.
“Are you trying to scare me into going through with this?”
He tilted up one corner of his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe. Is it working?”
I chuckled through my snuffles, and almost snotted myself. Candy handed me a man-size tissue she’d dug up from somewhere. I could get used to having a bodyguard.
“I’m his only daughter,” I said, trusting the explanation to be sufficient.
Billy quirked his mouth, looking like he still wanted to argue his case, but finally leaned over and kissed me. Chastely, on the forehead. “Come on, cuz. Let’s blow this joint.”
* * *
We went back to Billy’s place, deciding we’d had enough excitement and would wait until the next day to gather our parents around and break the news. Candy and Al resumed their post across from the door to the building, taking the latest minor upheaval in their professional stride.
The beautiful white roses were in a vase on the slate-and-metal coffee table across from the sofa where we sat holding hands. Billy alternated, as usual, between being super sweet and teasing me mercilessly, mostly about the wedding hell I was about to descend into. It felt good to be back on a normal footing with him.
“You know, a good adaptor fiancé would volunteer to go dress shopping with my mother for me.” I slugged him playfully on the bicep closest to me, pretty sure that part of him hadn’t been injured in the car accident.
“Yeah. Too bad you’re stuck with a smart adaptor fiancé,” he said with a wink.
“Smart, huh? Idiot savant, maybe.”
“I’ll savant you.” He pulled me closer and proceeded to demonstrate one area where his expertise definitely qualified him for savant status.
“You know,” he said during a pause I didn’t especially want him to take, “just because we didn’t get married doesn’t mean we can’t have a wedding night.”
I pretended to weigh the matter while I ruthlessly trampled down flashes of sleeping with Mark the night before. That guilt was my burden to bear, not Billy’s. “But wouldn’t it be improper, Mr. Doyle? Isn’t there supposed to be a certain protocol to these events?”
“Screw protocol. Haven’t you heard? ‘Life is short. Eat dessert first.’”
“That is an unfair metaphor to employ with me. You know how I feel about dessert.”
“What can I say?” He pointed back at himself with his thumb. “Savant.”
My cell phone took that inopportune time to buzz in my pants pocket. Since Billy’s hand was already in the area, he dug it out for me.
“It’s Mark. Do you want to take it?” He kept his eyes neutral.
I couldn’t help feeling the wise thing to do would be to hit “ignore,” but I really didn’t think I could. “It might be about Loughlin.”
Billy nodded, with only the slightest downturn of his lips. I’d already decided to respect his wishes not to know what I’d attempted to tell him about my night with Mark. That was an aberration, a reflection of my trauma more than anything else. When you really thought about it, it was more therapy than sex. And therapy sessions are supposed to remain private, right?
Okay, that was rationalization on my part. But, honestly, not that far from true. I’d needed it at the time, but to tell Billy would be unnecessarily cruel. Confession might be good for my soul, but I had a feeling it would shred his.
If I felt guilty about anyone, it was Mark. But I’d been honest with him about Billy even then. He could have refused.
Yeah, right, Ciel. Like he was going to turn down your plea for help. When has Mark ever done that?
Gah. I couldn’t think about that now. I swiped the screen and kept my voice light. “Hey there.”
“Hey, Howdy. I have some good news.”
“You caught the bastard?” I said. “Fantastic!”
“Slow down. No, we don’t have Loughlin yet, but we have a few more leads.”
“Is it Carl? Is he out of intensive care?”
“No, but it’s looking better for him. He’s showing signs of waking up.”
“What’s the good news then? Did Mom and Auntie Mo swear off parties?” I grinned at Billy, who was close enough to hear both sides of the conversation.
Mark chuckled. “Not a chance. But I found out something interesting when I was speaking with Dr. Carson about Loughlin. She mentioned she’d peeked at her medical records to make sure there weren’t any hints about her kidney stone. She also said she hoped you weren’t feeling any ill effects from the fertility hormones she saw you received before the reduced gravity flight—she never meant for you to get those.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Did you happen to get any injections while you were filling in for her?”
“Well, yeah. It was part of her preflight physical. The doctor called them her ‘special vitamins.’ I assumed it was to keep her healthy for the mission.”
“It was for mission prep all right, but only to make sure she’s ovulating at the right time. The side effects can be uncomfortable for some women.” He paused for a beat. “They can also cause a false positive on a pregnancy test.”
“So you mean…?”
“You might not be pregnant after all.”