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Meggie won. “So how do you like being the country’s divorce guru? Is it everything you hoped for while you were in law school?” She feigned confusion. “Oh, wait, that’s not why you went to law school in the first place. Let me guess, there’s more money in divorce than in protecting the Constitution.”
“Lots more money.” Dev had the audacity to grin at her and she felt childish for giving in to the urge to snark back. “Bit more excitement, too.”
“And to think you used to be an idealist.” The disappointment in her voice wasn’t all fake.
“Blind idealism is dangerous.”
“Ergo Cover Your Assets?”
“Exactly.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?”
“What?”
“The pessimism you dish out. Anyone listening to you would begin to believe that all marriages end in divorce.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Wonder where I got that idea?”
She shouldn’t have started this. They were already falling back into bad habits, and they hadn’t even been around each other a full fifteen minutes yet. At this rate, they’d be at each other’s throats by the time they went on the air. Time to be a professional—and the bigger person—and make a graceful retreat. “I tell you what—let’s not make this personal.” Dev’s other eyebrow joined the first, and she quickly amended her statement. “Or more personal than it has to be, at least.”
He nodded his agreement. “That’s my plan.”
“Good. I’m glad you have one. Why don’t you fill me in on the details of this plan?”
“It’s not too complicated, but if we’re lucky it just might work out for you.”
“And for you?”
That seemed to amuse him. “Megan, this actually has very little to do with me. I’m fine no matter what you say or do.”
“In other words, you’re doing me some kind of a favor?” She did not want to be indebted to him on top of everything else.
He just shrugged again.
“But you’ll get a boost to your ratings, too.”
“I’m number one in my time slot. My ratings don’t really need a boost.”
“But Kate said—”
“Kate’s obsessed with our ratings. You know, maybe you could help her with that.”
“If this works, and I get to go back to work, then I’ll give her all the free counseling she needs.” Biting her tongue to keep anything else from coming out, she faced him again. “So. The plan?”
“Simple, actually. First you’ll need to bottle some of that hostility.” Megan felt her jaw tighten. “Be friendly, but not too friendly. Polite. Noncommittal. Kate culled some of the more inflated speculations from the tabs and the blogs—we’ll have a good laugh over that.” That was an instruction, not a prediction, so she nodded. “The trick is to describe to the listeners how boring and mind-numbingly average our marriage really was and then make our divorce sound even more so. We’ll take calls for a while, and then it will be over.”
Over. She’d thought she and Dev were over long ago, but here they were. And to hear Dev describe their marriage as “boring” and “mind-numbing” felt like a slap across the face. Granted, they’d had problems—obviously—and that last year had gotten pretty ugly at times, but the early days had been far from boring or average. At least for her.
They’d been living on little more than love, but they’d been happy.
Dev obviously felt differently.
All her education and training had given her insight into why their marriage had failed, and she’d come to terms with that. She even knew what to say to couples going through the same things that split up her and Devin. She had perspective. She had distance. She had closure.
But hearing Dev dismiss their good times opened up all kinds of old wounds she didn’t realize could hurt anymore.
Until right now.
Thankfully, Kate choose that minute to return, giving Megan a much-needed moment to get hold of herself while Kate and Devin discussed show-related things she didn’t understand.
If she was smart, she’d back out of this crazy idea and go back to Plan A: lie low and ride it out. Plan B—changing her name and moving to Canada—was starting to gain traction, as well.
But then something beeped, and Kate and Devin were gathering up the few papers and bottles of water.
Kate turned her supermodel smile on Megan. “You ready? It’s showtime.”
Devin held the door open, waiting for her, and when she didn’t move, that eyebrow arched up again. Irritation crawled over her, forcing her feet into motion.
She was walking to the gallows out of pure spite.
Dr. Lowe’s official diagnosis? She was certifiably insane.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE’D MISSED THE FOURTH-grade field trip to the radio station, so Megan had spent last night trying to find out what she could about radio stations and how they worked. A couple of movies, so hopelessly out of date the disc jockeys were spinning vinyl records, some video clips posted on the internet … she still didn’t have a clue. And she hated not having a clue. Research was her friend; it made her feel comfortable and confident. But the how-to’s of radio were still a mystery, and she felt at a distinct disadvantage going into this.
That bothered her a lot. She didn’t want to be at a disadvantage—of any kind—when it came to Devin. She needed to feel like an equal. She was, she reminded herself. She wasn’t the same person she’d been all those years ago. She could hold her own—intellectually, professionally, sarcastically—against Devin Kenney.
She squared her shoulders as Devin opened a door marked Studio A. I can do this.
Two chairs facing each other across a small desk, two microphones, some computer screens—the booth looked a lot like what she’d expected from her research. Kate was on the other side of a large glass window that ran perpendicular to their table, settling into her chair and sliding large headphones over her ears. Somehow Megan knew Kate wasn’t the kind of woman who would have “headphone hair” two hours from now. She, on the other hand.
Dev’s “ahem” brought her back to the present. He was indicating a chair. “You’ll sit here. That’s your mic—be sure you get close to it, or folks won’t be able to hear you. Here—” he handed her a set of headphones “—put these on. And don’t touch anything.”
Megan bristled. “I’m not five. I think I can handle that.” Trying to look as if she did things like this all the time, she settled into the chair and smiled through the window at Kate.
“This is your last chance to back out, Megan. We’re going to be live, and while there’s a five-second delay, I won’t be able to walk you through one of your panic attacks.”
She almost let a sarcastic comment fly before she realized Dev had every right to be concerned about his show. It was the sign of a professional. She needed to respect that—at least while they were on the air. She’d keep her tongue behind her teeth if it killed her in the process.
She tried for a noncommittal tone. “I haven’t had a panic attack in years, but thanks for your concern.”
Dev looked surprised. “You haven’t? That’s a surprise.”
“Do you think I could help other people if I couldn’t learn to help myself first? I wouldn’t have lasted long in this business if I couldn’t talk to people.”
“That’s impressive, Meggie. Good for you.”
She couldn’t quite tell if that was grudging admiration in his tone or more sarcasm. She chose to accept the compliment, regardless of its sincerity. “Thank you. It means I should be able to get through this just fine.” At least I hope so. She could feel all kinds of old insecurities bubbling up to the surface, and they felt much like a panic attack.
As Devin pulled his chair up to the desk, she realized how small the booth was. Not claustrophobic small, but not large enough to be in with your ex-husband sucking up all the oxygen, either. By the time she got her chair in place, only about a foot of space separated them. She tucked her feet under the chair, not wanting her legs and feet to accidentally tangle with his. No footsie under the table tonight.
Kate signaled them, and Devin put his headphones on. She did the same, and a panicky flutter started in her stomach. She took deep, calming breaths, trying to focus.
Through her headphones she heard Devin’s theme music and intro. Then Devin leaned into the mic and started to speak.
It was as if his lips were only inches from her ear. She jumped, and her hands flew to her headphones, nearly pulling them off her ears in response to that baritone seeming to speak only to her.
She caught herself and pretended to adjust the headphones instead. Just another thing she hadn’t prepared herself for. Her need to stammer seemed right on the end of her tongue, but Kate and Devin were bantering a bit, and the mention of her name returned her attention to the proper place.
“… welcome Dr. Megan Lowe, my ex-wife, to the show.”
Both Devin and Kate looked at her, obviously expecting a response, and for a moment she faltered. Her heart thudded in her chest. How many people were listening? Every old insecurity she thought she’d buried was clawing its way to the surface.
Then Devin smirked at her.
A little spark of ire flared in her stomach, and that helped her gain control of herself. Trying to match his mock, she plastered a smile on her face, leaned into the microphone and prepared to meet the nation. “Thanks, Dev. I can’t say I’m pleased to be here, but I appreciate the invitation, nonetheless.”
He’d expected Megan to fold long before now. Saying she’d outgrown her shyness was a far cry from actually doing so, and he’d been ready to kill her mic and go to tape if she had a total meltdown. But twenty minutes into the show she sounded cool and poised, and her voice carried just a touch of mocking cynicism.
He’d seen the tiny flare of panic rise, but only someone who knew her very well would know that the wrinkle in her forehead was a warning sign of her discomfort. But the panic was gone as quickly as it had risen, and she managed to sound both amused and bored with the circus the media had made of her life and the outlandish speculation Kate had found on the blogs.
Megan’s voice slid a notch down on the register as she leaned into the mic, giving her a seductive, husky tone that had to have half his male listeners at attention. He certainly was. When Kate commented on the main talking point—the fact Megan counseled couples to stay together when she herself was divorced—Megan chuckled.
She might as well have run a hand over him. The sound seemed to hum through his headphones directly through his body as if they were alone. Intimate.
He tried to shake off the feeling, but when Megan tilted her chin half an inch in his direction, he wondered if she’d done it on purpose.
No, Megan couldn’t think she’d still have an effect on him after all these years. Hell, he wouldn’t have dreamed it was possible if he hadn’t felt the electric shiver over his skin.
Through the window Kate beamed an I-told-you-so grin, but she would have been equally glad to have Megan crash and burn. Kate pointed at her computer, meaning the callers were lining up. A glance at his screen confirmed it.
Seemed as if Megan was on her way to fifteen minutes of fame instead of shame. He was oddly, inexplicably proud of her.
He brought the first caller on. “Caller, you’re on the air.”
“This is Andrea from Las Vegas. I’m a big fan of your show, Devin, but my question is actually for Dr. Megan.”
Megan covered an amused snort with a small cough before she turned to him and mouthed, “Dr. Megan? Really?”
He shrugged.
Megan shook her head and leaned into the mic. “Hi, Andrea. What’s your question?”
“So why’d you two get divorced? Who left who?”
Oh, he couldn’t wait to hear her answer to this. When Megan looked to him, question written all over her pixie features, he folded his arms over his chest and shrugged.
Megan stuck out her tongue at him before she answered. “Devin and I were young when we got married—college sweethearts, in fact—and we had some maturity issues and some disagreements about what we wanted from our lives and each other. Those differences proved to be irreconcilable.”
“So Devin left you?” It was more of a statement than a question. Maybe he should have warned her his listeners wouldn’t accept vagueness.
He saw Megan’s shoulders straighten. “Actually, I left Devin and filed for divorce.”
At the caller’s gasp of disbelief, he cut in, challenging Megan with a grin. “Hard to believe, huh?”
She rolled her eyes, but picked up the gauntlet. “Trust me, Andrea, he totally deserved it.” Her grin turned slightly evil, but her voice sounded conspiratorial. “He wasn’t always this charming, you know.”
“But surely he was still this hot, even back then. You had to be crazy to walk away from that,” the caller continued, and through the booth’s window he could see Kate practically crowing in glee as the queue of callers grew longer.
Megan cleared her throat. “There’s a lot more to a good marriage than the hotness of one partner. Lust can only hold a couple together for so long—at some point there has to be something more. Some commonality. Some kind of meeting of the minds. I’m not implying that Dev’s just a pretty face….” She trailed off, doing exactly that.
Kate was about to fall off her chair in excitement, and Megan shot him a look of triumph. The computer in front of him flashed as listener emails started flooding his in-box. It was time for him to take his show back in hand, damn it.
“Emotional stability helps a relationship, too. Both partners need to be mental adults.” Megan’s jaw dropped at the insult, and her eyes narrowed at him. He ignored her. “Thanks for your question, caller. Kate, who’s next on the line?”
The next few callers were predictable—folks commenting on the hype and irony, asking them to confirm or deny more rumors—but as the show went on, there were a few callers who were, amazingly enough, more interested in getting out of their own marriages than how or why he ended his.
He was trying to explain—for the thousandth time—that covering one’s assets did not mean hiding assets, since hiding assets was illegal in all states. The caller kept interrupting with bitter condemnations of his wife, as if that would allow him freedom with financial disclosure laws.
Pete-from-Tennessee harrumphed when Devin stopped to take a breath.
“Excuse me, can I butt in for a second?”
It was the first time Megan had commented on any question not directed at her or their past. He’d seen her shake her head a few times, and she’d probably bitten holes in her tongue, but she’d stayed off his “turf.”
When he turned in her direction, he could see the frown between her eyebrows. She was drumming her fingers lightly on the desktop. “You have something to add, Dr. Megan?”
She frowned at his use of her new nickname, but she nodded to him before turning to the mic. “Pete, I’m hearing a lot of anger and a lot of bitterness. I’m not saying it’s not justified, and without talking to you more or hearing your wife’s side of the story, I can’t offer any advice. But,” she stressed as both Devin and the caller tried to interrupt, “I’m also hearing hurt and jealousy, and that tells me there’s something else going on. Have you talked about some of these issues with your wife? Or a counselor?”
“Megan.” Devin started, but she held up a hand to stay him.
“Well, Pete?”
Pete-from-Tennessee muttered something unintelligible. Then he cleared his throat.
“Not everyone needs—or wants—therapy, Dr. Megan.”
“I understand that. But something tells me you and your wife have some communication problems. You might benefit from a few sessions with a counselor.”
“You’re a shrink. That’s how you make your money. Of course you don’t think people should get divorced,” Pete-from-Tennessee grumbled.
“On the contrary, I’d never advocate anyone stay in a marriage where they were mentally, emotionally, or physically in danger of any kind. There are some marriages that can’t be saved.” She met Devin’s eyes evenly. “And there are some that shouldn’t.”
Then Megan’s voice took on an earnest and almost hypnotic quality. The combination of compassion and concern tempered with a no-nonsense tone had even him listening carefully. “But from what you’re saying, Pete, I’m not sure your marriage is firmly in either of those camps. Marriage isn’t easy. Sometimes you have to fight for it. But it can be worth the battle.”
They must have taught Megan that idea in graduate school, because that certainly wasn’t her thinking when she walked out on him. The caller’s sputters had lapsed into silence, so Devin asked the question hanging in the air. “You agree, though, that divorce is sometimes the best thing?”
Megan met his eyes again, and the mood in the booth shifted. “I do. Sometimes divorce is the best and the healthiest option for both partners. Some people just shouldn’t be together. It’s a cold, hard fact that can be difficult to admit, but once those couples split, they usually find themselves to be happier.”
“What? No romantic notions about happily-ever-after or psychobabble—”
“Happily-ever-after isn’t a romantic notion—but it’s not guaranteed, either. Love and passion will only get you so far—like to the altar. It isn’t always enough for a successful marriage.”
Oh, he knew all about love and passion, and from the look on Megan’s face, she was remembering a few choice moments from their history, too. But they also both knew the reality of it not being enough. He didn’t break the stare, but he did try to inject a lighter tone to his next words for the sake of his audience. “Isn’t that the truth.”
Megan’s brows drew together in a frown, and the intense stare changed to a dirty look. “Pete, do me a favor, okay? Talk to your wife before you get any more advice from a divorce lawyer. You may be partly right—I do tend to look for ways to heal a marriage. It’s my nature and my job. But a divorce lawyer makes his money off your unhappiness and therefore has an unhealthy interest in your attempts to reconcile with your spouse.”
Devin heard the caller take a deep breath. “I’ll think about what you said, Dr. Megan.”
Megan was good—he’d give her that—but the smug smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and the mocking lift of her eyebrows told him she knew it, too. He’d had a lot thrown at him in the past forty-eight hours, but this new side of Megan was the hardest of all to grasp.
“That’s all I ask. Good luck, Pete, to both you and your wife. I hope you can figure out what’s best for you both in the long term.”
Kate took the opportunity to break in. “And on that note, we need to take a short break for your local news update and a message from our sponsors.” A second later she indicated they were clear, and Kate began to gush. “You two are fabulous together! The chemistry is just amazing and the audience is eating it up. Have you seen the call queue? The mail piling up in the show’s in-box? You guys are a hit! I knew you would be!” Kate wiggled in her chair, something he recognized as her “ratings dance.” “Oh, and you have three minutes.”
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