The Wedding Plan

CHAPTER TWO

ACT COOL, MERRY INSTRUCTED herself as she and Lucas walked with Boo toward the shingle cove that butted up against the wharf area, which in turn butted up against the marina. She sneaked a sidelong glance at Lucas, to find his handsome face angled down, his hands shoved in his pockets. Pretend that night never happened.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

Ugh.

“What for?” She injected surprise into her tone. Then she muttered, “Don’t answer that.” Because she really didn’t want him to elaborate.

“It seemed a good idea at the time,” he said.

Did he mean having sex or not having sex?

Boo headed for the rock pools, his usual silent, stoic, constipated self. He liked to sniff at the baby crabs, but didn’t have the enthusiasm for an actual attack.

“It was one crazy moment,” she said. “You were understandably upset, and I happened to be there....” I happened to launch myself at you, taking advantage of your vulnerability.

“You agree,” he said, “that we were right to stop?”

“Absolutely.” She did now, after what he’d done.

“It would have been for all the wrong reasons.”

“Wrong,” she agreed, wishing he would shut up.

She’d gone to visit him in Baltimore because their fathers had been nagging, asking when she and Lucas would see each other again. The visit had been as much about getting their dads off their backs as about their fluctuating friendship.

She’d arrived a few hours after Lucas had learned that two men from his unit had been killed during a minesweeping operation. An operation Lucas would have been involved in, if he’d still been in the Gulf. He’d been a mess—he’d seemed to think he could have saved his friends.

Fueled by a couple of whiskeys that he shouldn’t have drunk while on pain meds, he’d poured out guilt and self-recrimination with a depth of feeling Merry hadn’t known he was capable of. Naturally, she’d wanted to comfort him. When he slung an arm across her shoulders, she’d snuggled into him on the couch. And was reminded of Date Number Eight, in December last year. Lucas’s brother’s wedding. When for the first time ever, they’d given in to the sexual chemistry that had arced between them on and off for years, and had kissed.

That’s all. Kissed.

But it had been H-O-T.

So hot, they’d both pulled back. Yeah, there was chemistry, but they wanted different things out of life, and getting involved would be too…involved.

But in Baltimore, with Lucas all vulnerable and upset beside her, Merry had forgotten the complications and remembered the heat. In the next minute, she’d been on his lap, her mouth pressed to his.

He hadn’t objected in the slightest. In record time, he’d had her out of her clothes.

And then…

Then he’d looked down at her naked body, which, admittedly, was nothing great. She didn’t have legs up to here, or high, bouncing breasts—she was short, and had hardly any breasts at all. Lucas had paused and looked down at her for a long time, and then he’d said, “Let’s not do this.”

Merry had dressed in mortified silence. She’d left while he was in the bathroom. They hadn’t spoken since.

Boo trotted up, carrying a stick of driftwood. Merry busied herself, patting his head, cooing at him. When the sting in her eyes had gone, she straightened and threw the stick. Boo watched its trajectory, but didn’t bother to pursue it.

“So, are we okay?” Lucas was eyeing her with concern. As if she was a problem he needed to fix.

“Of course,” she said. “I’d hate to be held to one stupid moment, and so would you. Sex is one thing, but relationshipwise, I want what my parents had. You’re the last person in the world for that.”

He looked taken aback at being “the last person in the world.” But it was true. Lucas was pragmatic, protective and, in his own way, caring. But she knew from the debates—purely theoretical—they’d had over the years that he didn’t believe in the kind of soul-mate love her parents had had. He would never love a woman the way Merry wanted to be loved. Her mom had died twenty-three years ago, when Merry was three years old, and her dad still grieved.

Lucas’s mom had died when he was twelve, and Dwight had remarried in less than six months. Merry could easily imagine Lucas doing the same.

“If anything, I’m the one who should apologize,” she said. “Frankly, Lucas, given how upset you were, my behavior was predatory.”

His shout of laughter startled her.

“Merry Wyatt, sexual predator,” he mused, and she felt a sliver of relief at the release of tension.

“At the very least, I was exploitative.” She scuffed her sneaker in the sand.

“Don’t talk dumb,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I started it.”

He hadn’t, but she didn’t argue.

If only he’d turned her down before she was naked. Then she could have accepted the “too complicated” excuse without a qualm. As it was, for weeks she’d wondered, Was it something specific? My breasts, or my legs? Or did I just not turn you on?

They’d reached the stick she’d thrown for Boo. Lucas bent to pick it up with his left hand. He was right-handed.

“How’s your injury?” she asked to change the subject.

“Never better.” He let his hand swing freely at his side. Which, judging by the tightening of his jaw, caused him pain.

Stupid hero complex.

What kind of guy would want to go back to the place where he’d suffered such horrible injuries? A guy like Lucas, who couldn’t help jumping in and saving the world.

Boo nudged Merry’s thigh. She noogied his head, the way he loved. He rewarded her with a rasp of his tongue on her wrist.

“Your dad doesn’t seem too well,” Lucas said. His turn to change the subject, it seemed.

“He gets tired more easily,” she agreed. “Anyone would find five years of dialysis wearing.”

“You should get him to a doctor.”

Oh, honestly. Did he think no one was monitoring the dialysis? “Dad has regular checkups.” Before Lucas could ask, she said, “I’m not sure when the next one is.”

“Merry, your dad’s in pain. Severe pain. I know the signs.”

A chill swept her, borne on the fall breeze. “No, he’s—It’s just the doctors can’t manage his kidney condition when his blood pressure’s so high.” A sudden prickle behind her eyes made it hard to continue. “But they can’t seem to get his blood pressure down. His doctor thinks it’s emotional stress.”

“What emotional stress would he have?”

“Dad’s not the kind to talk about his worries,” she admitted. “But the past six months, I’ve caught him several times just sitting in a kind of trance.”

All she had to do was speak, and he’d snap out of his private thoughts, but still, those moments worried her. She wasn’t used to him not telling her everything. But she didn’t want to discuss this with Lucas. Didn’t want him to see how scared she was. Dad’s got through everything else. He’ll get through this, too.

“We’ve had a really mild fall,” she commented.

“So, what’s with this guy you’re dating?” Lucas asked. “This Patrick?” He whistled to Boo, who was nosing a pile of rotting seaweed. With one last sniff, the collie abandoned his find.

“He’s great,” she enthused. She wanted to say, He can’t get enough of my body. He thinks small boobs are gorgeous. He’s crazy about me. But that might sound a tad defensive. “He’s very romantic.” Despite it being true, Lucas didn’t look impressed. But then, he wouldn’t. “He’s a vet,” she added, babbling now.

“I already got that,” he said.

So he did.

“I think it might be serious,” she said.

His head snapped around. “Really?”

“Um, yes.” Patrick certainly talked as if it was. “Yes,” she said with more certainty. “It might be.”

“But your dad doesn’t like him, right?”

“That’s the one drawback,” she agreed.

“What’s wrong with the guy?” Lucas asked.

“He’s…” For one moment she wished Patrick was a different kind of guy. “Um, you know that Shakespeare quotation, ‘Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war?’”

“One of my favorites,” Lucas deadpanned.

Entirely possible, given his penchant for rushing to the rescue. Merry sighed. “Patrick’s the founder of the Dogs of Peace.”

“The what?”

“It’s a peace protest group.”

Lucas snorted a laugh.

Merry was all in favor of the laying down of arms and everyone loving their fellow man, et cetera. Truly. But it would be a lot handier if Patrick could devote himself to a different cause. Saving trees, for example. Trees needed protestors, too.

Her father might not have much respect for tree huggers, but he didn’t despise them.

“Patrick thinks the military is evil.” She ignored Lucas’s exaggerated gasp. “He believes he has a right to say so, and he likes to exercise that right. Often. Turns out Dad doesn’t appreciate free speech, not all the time.”

“Where did you meet this flake?” Lucas asked.

In the interest of winning the war, rather than every tiny battle, Merry bit down on the urge to extol Patrick’s wonderful, manly qualities. “He was protesting outside the submarine base in Groton.”

“With…the Dogs of Peace.” Lucas said the name as if it were a rat’s carcass that Boo had dragged in.

“Right,” Merry said. “Patrick’s a veterinarian. Dogs of Peace, get it?”

“Oh, brother,” Lucas muttered. “How long have you been seeing him?”

“Several months.” Since soon after that night in Baltimore, but that was sheer coincidence.

Lucas’s forehead cleared. “So, if you and Patrick are serious, you really are fine about that night we…”

“Totally.” Ugh, her voice went too high.

“That’s great, Merry, because I want us to stay friends.” His sudden smile was oddly boyish. It tugged at the same part of her that had been attracted to Vulnerable Lucas six months ago.

“I bet you do,” she said. “I probably know more of your faults than any other woman, and I’m still willing to talk to you.” Yes, remember his faults. That’ll help.

He grinned. “That goes both ways. Does Patrick know how bad you are at letting a guy look after you?”

She used to enjoy infuriating him during their childhood games. He would turn up to rescue her, claiming to have boarded the submarine where she was being held hostage. She would claim to have overpowered her captor, escaped the sub, then grabbed on to a passing dolphin that delivered her to shore. A scenario no dumber than his, which involved him sneaking into a submerged submarine.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like being looked after, it was more that she’d never liked Lucas’s reasons for wanting to protect her and everyone else in his path. It was nothing personal…and that was the problem.

“Patrick doesn’t need to save the world to feel good about himself,” she said. Wonderful though he was with animals, there wasn’t much chance of Patrick overdoing the rescuer instinct.

Lucas opened his mouth as if to argue. Then he paused, and said, “Since we’re okay, can I ask you a favor? I just came from my parents’ place.”

“Did you see Mia?” Merry asked. “Isn’t she adorable?”

He blinked. “Yeah, sure. Dad wants me to talk to you about whether I should be trying to get back to the Gulf.” Lucas sounded as if he couldn’t quite believe his father was relying on any opinion other than his own.

They’d reached the end of the beach; they turned and started back.

“Your dad’s a changed man,” she said. “I like him a lot better these days.”

Lucas didn’t look excited. “Could you tell him you think I should get a retest on the physical?”

“What if I don’t think that? What if I think it’s time you accepted reality and figured out what matters?”

He rolled his eyes. “You sound like Dad. But it’s not like you’re big on reality yourself, with your romantic ideals.” He must have sensed her imminent objection, because he hurried on. “And it’s not like I haven’t helped you in the past. You used the fact we were ‘dating’ to make your father feel better about you turning down a full ride to Berkeley.”

Lucas had been hopping mad with her about that. But she’d wanted to stay with her father. They were each other’s only family, and family was important. But Dad wouldn’t have wanted to “hold her back,” so Lucas had grudgingly let her claim a closeness they didn’t have. While her dad had been disappointed she wasn’t going on to further study, he’d been happy that she and Lucas were together.

“I’ve already done my share of helping you out,” she said. “I was your decoy for six months when that captain’s daughter was after you. We didn’t ‘break up’ until you were assigned to the ship you wanted.”

“I know, but—”

“And what about when you were worried Dwight might use his influence to keep you out of a war zone? I gushed for three months about how thrilled I was that you were fighting tyranny on foreign shores. I did a great job.”

Their strategy had been simple, but effective. Since Lucas and his dad had a weird don’t ask, don’t tell policy on any number of subjects, Dwight would never discuss Lucas’s love life with him. Instead, Merry informed her own father of their latest status, knowing that he would pass it to Dwight over their weekly game of pool, or while they tended meat on the grill.

“In hindsight,” Lucas said, “I don’t think Dad would have intervened. So that one doesn’t count.”

“It counts,” she retorted. “Then there was that ex-girlfriend’s wedding I had to attend as your date.” Lucas had wanted to make it clear to the groom he wasn’t pining for the bride.

“You’ve been a trouper,” he said insincerely. “One more time, Merry, that’s all I’m asking. Then you and Patrick can ride off into the sunset spouting poetry or whatever it is you romantic types like to do.”

She smacked his arm before she remembered that touching him wasn’t a good idea. Too much room for confusion.

Boo yipped, as if questioning her intent; his Lassie face had lengthened in anxiety.

“Fine,” Merry said.

He stopped. “You’ll do it? You’ll ask my dad to request a retest?”

“Yes, I’ll do it,” she said. “What are friends for?” He was right; they did help each other out when they could. And if he went back to the Gulf, she wouldn’t see him for another year, by which time there was a faint chance they would both have forgotten Baltimore.

Not.

“Thanks, Merry,” he said.

For one horrendous moment, she thought he might kiss her.

Then he said, “I’ll ask your dad to put in a good word, too. I need all the help I can get.” Mission accomplished, he strode toward the workshop, distancing himself from her with every step.

He wrenched the iron door along its track, pausing halfway, then finishing the job with renewed vigor. He disappeared inside.

Ten seconds later, Merry heard a shout. And despite all the denials she’d issued to Lucas, in that instant, she knew.

She sprinted after him.

Her dad was lying on the floor of the workshop, next to the hull of the half-formed yacht. Lucas had one hand on his pulse, the other wrapped around his cell phone.

CHAPTER THREE

“WHEN WILL THEY TELL ME what’s going on?” Merry gripped the edge of her plastic chair in the ICU waiting room that the hospital had assigned to “Family of John Wyatt.”

“As soon as they know something.” Lucas was doing a good job of acting as if she hadn’t asked that question twenty times already. She wondered if the U.S. Naval Academy ran classes in Maintaining a Rocklike Calm in a Crisis. Lucas would have aced it.

“I called my dad,” he said. “He and Stephanie are waiting for a sitter for Mia, then they’ll be right here.”

“They don’t need to come.” Her father and Lucas’s had been there for each other at all the most important events of their lives. She wanted this to be a little glitch, not a defining moment.

She and Lucas lapsed into silence again. When a nurse stuck her head around the door, they both jumped.

“A doctor will be out to see you in about ten minutes, Ms. Wyatt.” Her gaze drifted sideways to Lucas. Her eyes widened and she smiled. “Thank you for your patience.” She left the room with a lingering glance over her shoulder. Not at Merry.

“If you’re looking for a date, you could be in luck,” Merry said.

“Not interested.” Lucas stretched back in his chair.

“I didn’t ask,” she said. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment? Other than me?”

It wasn’t much of a joke. Still, he smiled. “Currently single. There was someone last year, before I was shot down—a nurse on my aircraft carrier. She married another guy. Lucky for you, I wasn’t invited to the wedding, so I didn’t need a date.”

Merry forced herself to keep talking so she wouldn’t fall into a panic about her father. “That seems to be a recurring theme. Girlfriend breaks up with you, then marries someone else six months later. Do you think the adrenaline rush of getting away from you makes them crazy?”

“She proposed to me, and I turned her down. She found a man who wanted the fairy-tale wedding. End of story.”

Lucas stood and crossed to a poster of CPR instructions on the wall. He began reading, though Merry suspected he knew the details inside out from his military training. Her dad had still had a pulse when they’d found him, so CPR hadn’t been necessary. Maybe she should take a refresher course, so that next time…

She shied away from the thought. Yeah, Dad was sick, but the dialysis was working. Whatever this episode was, he’d get past it. They’d get past it. “Why didn’t you want to marry her? What was wrong with her?” Easier to analyze Lucas’s patchy dating history than her father’s health.

Lucas leaned against the wall, obscuring useful advice about clearing the airway before commencing CPR. “Nothing. She checked all the boxes.”

“Loves the navy, built like a Victoria’s Secret model…” Merry counted points off on her fingers.

He grinned. “Pretty much.”

So Merry’s small breasts had turned him off. The only kind of Victoria’s Secret model she could be was for one of those bras that transformed nonexistent boobs into almost-cleavage. “She sounds perfect.”

“She was turning thirty,” Lucas said.

Merry gasped. “An old hag!”

His mouth quirked. “Her biological clock was ticking. When I said I wasn’t ready for marriage, she asked me to be a sperm donor.”

“And you didn’t want to?”

“If I was going to procreate, I’d want to raise the kid myself.” He sat down again, this time several seats away from Merry.

Of course he’d want to do it himself. He would never shirk a responsibility. But there was more to parenting than that, or there should be.

“Being a dad is a big deal,” she limited herself to saying. John Wyatt was the only parent she knew. He’d not only been a wonderful father, he’d kept alive the mother she didn’t remember. If she lost him…

“Snap out of it, Merry,” Lucas said. “Don’t assume the worst.”

“Quit ordering me around.” Her reflexive reaction.

“You never could do as you were told.” He shook his head with mock disappointment.

“You never could explain why I had to be the petty officer third class, while you always got to be the captain.”

He blinked at the reference to that childhood resentment. But she felt suddenly like a child. Vulnerable to loss.

“It was for your own good,” he said. “I couldn’t promote you until you learned not to be insubordinate. You were even worse when you were the enemy—you could never accept that prisoner of war meant you were the loser.”

“You could never understand that I might have cooperated if you didn’t insist on being in command,” she retorted.

Though today had proved that a tendency to take charge wasn’t always a bad thing. While Merry had been paralyzed with shock, Lucas had found a blanket in the office, put it over her father, continued monitoring his pulse. He’d stayed so calm as they’d waited for the ambulance.

“You were great today,” she blurted.

“I didn’t do anything.” He folded his arms across his chest.

The door to the waiting room opened. A woman wearing scrubs came in. “Ms. Wyatt?”

Merry stood on legs that were suddenly leaden. “That’s me.”

“I’m Dr. Randall. Your father is stable in ICU.”