In Love Again (37 page)
“Yes. Absolutely. I mean…”
“Bron!”
“Yes! Yes! I totally will. I promise.”
“Okay.” Claire took a deep breath. “Give Abby a hug for me when you see her tonight. I’ll be back in a few weeks to sign the final divorce papers, and hopefully that will coincide with the arrival of your twins—”
“Oh, wouldn’t that be perfect?”
“We’ll make it work. You’ve been such an angel, Bron, really. I don’t know how I would have made it through the past six months without you.”
“Oh, stop. I’m going to start crying again. This whole pregnancy has turned me into such a watering pot. I’m a mess.”
“It’s lovely. You’re lovely.”
“Thanks, sweetie. So…can I tell Max?”
“Of course, please tell Max.”
“Oh, good! He’s going to be so pleased. Five grandchildren. Oh my god. Your mother is going to be beside herself.” Bronte took a deep breath. “So when are you and Ben going to get married?”
Claire melted a little inside. “We’re getting married as soon as the divorce goes through. Really soon, I hope.”
“Oh good. So you’ve been able to move things along with Freddy, then?”
“I think Devon and Max have totally painted him into a corner. We’ll see, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to sign the documents this week or next. And then we’re free.”
Claire heard the door open in the background on Bronte’s end of the call.
“It’s Max! Oh dear, what’s the matter, darling?” There was some shuffling and then Max’s strong voice came down the line. “Claire?”
“Yes. Max, what is it? You sound so serious?”
“Has anyone called you yet?” he asked without preamble.
“No. What about?”
“I just got a call from my attorney that Freddy’s…shit…” Max sounded tired and old. She barely recognized her own brother’s voice.
“What is it?” Claire whispered. “Just tell me.”
“I should have known he’d pull one last thing before he gave up.” Max exhaled with impatience. “Turns out he drained all of the accounts that he had cosigned with Lydia in the past few months. It wasn’t even that much money, in the grand scheme of things—a hundred thousand pounds or so—but I guess he just couldn’t resist stealing one more thing from our family.”
“What a bastard,” Claire said under her breath. She was unaccustomed to swearing, but whenever she thought of Freddy and his complete lack of morals, she wanted to swear to high heaven. Instead, she took another deep breath. “So where does this leave us? If he’s run off, I guess that means he didn’t sign the divorce papers…”
“No, that’s the unexpected good news.”
Claire felt her skin begin to tingle all over. “What—”
“Apparently that trampy girlfriend of his made him sign the divorce papers and agree to marry her before she would leave the country with him.”
“Oh my god, Max.”
“I know. It’s really fabulous news. I suppose we should be grateful that she’s just
that
trampy.”
“Max!” But Claire was laughing and crying all at once. She reached for one of the paper napkins and patted her eyes.
Max’s voice softened. “Still. I’m just sorry about Lydia. She’s going to be so upset—”
“You know what, Max? I don’t want to tell her.”
“Really?”
“What’s the point?”
“Well, the point is that he can’t take advantage of her again if she sees him for what he really is.”
“I know. But not right away. Not like this, all right?”
Max sighed. “All right. I’ll leave it to you to tell her. If and when you want. Meantime, as I said, it’s a relatively small sum of hers he took anyway.”
“Relative to what?” Claire asked.
She could hear the smile in her brother’s voice. “Relative to the amount that’s sitting in an account in the Bahamas with your name on it. Devon was able to, er,
transfer
all of the funds Freddy stole over the years and put them back into your name without Freddy having any idea. Until…” Max’s voice trailed off.
“Until what?”
“It’s kind of wonderfully horrible. Apparently, Freddy had written checks all over town on those secret accounts and over the past few weeks, he’s been blackballed everywhere—”
“Oh Max, that’s terrible!” But Claire knew her words were brimming with joy.
“I know. Perfectly awful. Devon said he watched him get turned away from Mark’s Club just the other night.”
“Poor, poor Freddy.”
“How true!” Max laughed.
Claire took a deep breath and looked into her empty soup bowl. “I don’t really know how to thank you, Max.”
“You don’t need to thank me, Claire.” He was silent for a few moments. “I wish we’d all known sooner how unhappy you were, how bad it was. Maybe we could have done something before now.”
“Oh, don’t think of it like that. I mean, now that Ben and I have found each other, everything feels like it’s exactly as it’s meant to be.”
“I’m happy for you, Claire.”
They said a few more words then ended the call. Claire stared at the cell phone in her hand and felt her bones melting at the joyful realization that she could marry Ben in a matter of days. She left a ten-dollar bill on the table and said good-bye to the waitress. She called in to work to see if it was busy and asked if she could swing by a couple of fabric showrooms that afternoon. Hilary said no problem and Claire picked up her pace.
She reached Ben’s office about twenty minutes later, her feet cold and her heart bursting. He was just coming out of one of the examination rooms when he saw her sitting in the waiting room with a grin that could have lit up the city. He turned to his receptionist and said he’d be a few minutes late for his next appointment, then pulled Claire into his office.
Turning the lock on the door, he stayed with his back against the smooth wood. “What is it? You look like you’re about to burst with good news.”
“It’s done,” she whispered. “Freddy signed. Max just called me. We can get married”—she hesitated and glanced at the ceiling to count the days in her head—“in four or five days. Or sooner if we fly to London.”
Ben was crossing the short distance between them. Claire smiled and took a step back so she was leaning against his immaculate desk. He was right up against her.
“It’s very tidy.” She dragged her hand along his desk. “Very smooth.”
He lifted her up onto the desk and pulled her into a kiss. “I love you so much, Claire.” He continued kissing her, pulling at her scarf to get deeper into the warmth of her neck.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, Ben. Can you believe it?”
He pulled his face back a few inches. “No.” He shook his head gently. “I really can’t. But I was never much of a believer anyway.”
“Really?” She smiled and kissed his cheek. “What will convince you?”
He hummed into her skin. “I’m more of a scientist. I’m going to need a lifetime of physical evidence.”
This book would not exist in any form had it not been for the affectionate prodding of Janet Webb; she believed in Claire and her story long before I had any idea who Claire really was, much less how I was going to write her book. So many writer friends helped me along the way: Mira Lyn Kelly explained why it might not be such a good idea to have Lydia kill her own father; Grace Burrowes shared heart-wrenching insights into why vengeance is never clean; Miranda Neville was a genius with all things British and motivational (Miranda: “Why would that character do that?” Me: “Uh, no reason.” *delete-delete-delete*); Catherine Bybee offered her continued kick-ass support; Jen Talty let me talk her ear off; Lexi Ryan listened to me hem and haw and fret and wring my hands about self-publishing; Anne Calhoun listened, full stop. Lisa Dunick was an incredible editor: fast, attentive, precise; thank you for being my Editrix Extraordinaire. Allison Hunter and Lisa Vanterpool helped me figure out a Middle Way to self-publish this book while still having the power and expertise of InkWell Management behind the project. Regan Fisher proofread the final manuscript, and if I get any sleep at night, it is thanks to her meticulous attention. Thank you to Deb Werksman, Beth Pehlke, and everyone else at Sourcebooks who supported my efforts to integrate this book into the Unruly Royals series. Alexandra Haughton was supportive and kind and lovely. Ross Beresford and E. M. Tippetts formatted all the files with precision. Kimberley Van Meter set up the cover beautifully. My husband and children do everything all the time, so it’s hard to thank them for anything specific when my gratitude for their patience and understanding is woven into every word I write. Most of all, hugs and thanks to my mother, who always reads my books with a mother’s love and a reader’s honesty. This one’s for you.
Megan Mulry writes sexy, stylish, romantic fiction. Her first book,
A Royal Pain
, was an NPR Best Book of 2012 and
USA Today
bestseller. Before discovering her passion for romance novels, she worked in magazine publishing and finance. After many years in New York, Boston, London, and Chicago, she now lives with her husband and children in Florida.
Website:
www.meganmulry.com
Twitter:
@meganmulry
