Second Chance (15 page)

The Christmas Eve he spent with Fiona was peaceful and perfect, and after she went to bed, he went back to the apartment, and was there when his daughters woke up in the morning. He missed Fiona all night, but for the moment, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make for his children. Much to his chagrin, they never thanked him once for it. He and Mrs. Westerman maintained a cool distance. She looked at him now as though he were the incarnation of the devil.

But at least he and the girls enjoyed a nice Christmas Day. They loved the gifts he had gotten for them, and had each gone to a lot of trouble to find something meaningful for him. But their Christmases were always tainted now by the absence of their mother. And late that night, after they had gone out with friends, he slipped out to visit Fiona. Whenever he wasn't with her, he really missed her. She was already asleep in bed with Sir Winston when he got there. Selfishly, he couldn't resist waking her, and making love to her.

And then he left again, to go back to the apartment he stayed at with his daughters. But Fiona's house was home now. He knew he couldn't live this way for much longer. It was a divided life, and the running back and forth seemed so pointless. He had thought about it a lot recently, and he could only think of one solution. What he didn't know was how Fiona would feel about it.

The day after Christmas the girls left for Vermont, and that night he and Fiona flew to St. Martin, and then caught a puddle-jumper to St. Bart's. They stayed in a lovely old French hotel, and it was wonderful being there, with the heat and the sun and the good weather. It was yet another perfect vacation, and it only served to strengthen his resolve, and give him courage. He didn't want to rock the boat, but he also wanted to know that the boat was his now. He no longer wanted to simply charter. And on New Year's Eve, as he toasted her, she saw something odd in his eyes and suddenly got worried.

“Are you okay?” she asked with a look of concern. They had lain on the beach all day, and had made love that night before they went out to dinner.

“Very much so. I have something I want to ask you.” She couldn't imagine what it was, and thought he was teasing her about something. He had a mischievous sense of humor, just as she did.

“You want to know if I love you or Sir Winston more, I'll bet. You know, that just isn't a fair question. He and I have been together longer. But I love you nearly as much. And given time, who knows, I could grow to love you almost as much as I love Sir Winston,” she teased him.

“Will you marry me, Fiona?”

She could see in his eyes that he meant it. Her mouth opened and shut silently, and she stared at him in obvious consternation. “Oh, shit. You mean that, don't you?”

“Yes, I do. That's not exactly the response I expected.” He looked worried and somber.

“Why did you do that? Why did you ask me?” She looked upset, and so did he now. “I told you in the beginning, I don't need to be married. Things are fine the way they are. And if I married you, your daughters would put a contract out on me. And your housekeeper would sic the Hound of the Baskervilles on me. I don't need the aggravation. And neither do you,” she said, looking unhappy. This was not the answer he had hoped for.

“This is none of their business. This is about us. Mrs. Westerman is an employee. And my daughters are going to have to accept that I have a right to be happy and have my own life. They have theirs now. Never mind them. What about you? What do you want? Do you want me?” He couldn't have put it more simply, and that touched her.

“Of course I do. But I already have you, don't I? Do we need papers to prove it?”

“Maybe we do. I think I do,” he said honestly. “I don't like just camping out at your house, feeling like a guest, trying to find an empty closet. Besides, I figure I'll never get a decent closet in that house unless I build one, and it's rude to do that in someone else's house. It's a serious problem.” But as far as Fiona was concerned, so was marriage. Very serious. More serious than she had ever wanted.

“If I let you build a closet, do you still need to get married?” He could see that she looked frightened.

“Why are you so afraid of marriage?” He had never understood it. But she was phobic about it.

“If you get married, people leave each other, and die. They hurt and disappoint each other. They walk out. If all you do is live together, they just get bored with each other at some point, but they don't do as much damage on the way out.” It was all about the father who had abandoned them, he knew, but it was even deeper than that now. She didn't want to be owned, or to risk losing someone she loved. She wanted to hang on lightly. Marriage seemed too tight a grip to her, and she was afraid of being strangled. Even the situation with his daughters would be worse if they got married, and become more important. Now it was his problem, married it would be hers as well. This way she could sympathize with him, and just ignore it. If she married him, she'd have to own it.

“I like being married,” he said honestly. “I like what it means. It means I believe in you and will love you forever.”

“There is no forever,” she said softly. His late wife had proven that to him. People had been proving that to her all her life. There was no forever. There was only now. And they already had that. She didn't want to believe in forever, with anyone, it would only hurt her in the end.

“Yes, there is, Fiona. Or close enough. I want to be with you forever.”

“You mean that now,” she said quietly, “and you think there is. But one day if you get mad at me or fed up, you'll walk out. And if you do, it's simpler this way.”

“Don't you have more faith in me than that?” he asked sadly.

“In you maybe, but not in life. Life doesn't give you forever. It just doesn't.”

“I've never walked out on anyone in my life. And I'm not going to walk out on you. I'm not that kind of person,” he said gently.

“That's what you say now. But who knows what you'd say later. I like it better this way.” She just couldn't do it. And she couldn't see a reason to. Why spoil a good thing with the risk of marriage? It was way too scary. But she didn't want to hurt his feelings either, and she was flattered that he had asked her.

“I don't want to be a guest in your house forever. I want to own something with you, to share a life with you.” He didn't want to say it to her, and he didn't want to frighten her even more, but he would even have liked to have children with her. But he knew how she felt about that. All he wanted now was to be married to her, they could see about the rest later. He didn't want to frighten her even more than she was. There was terror in her eyes. “Will you think about it?”

“Why?”

“Because I love you. And I want to be married to you.”

“It's such a silly thing to do. Some guy saying words over us isn't going to make us love each other more, or wearing a ring that you give me. I already love you.” He had a ring in his pocket for her, but he didn't want to tell her, or scare her off completely. He had never known another woman like her, but that was why he loved her.

“It's the promise. The commitment. It's a way of saying to the world that I believe in you, and you believe in me, and we're proud of each other.”

“I
am
proud of you. I don't need to be married to you to be proud of you.”

“Maybe I do.” He didn't say more about it after that, and they made love when they went back to their room that night. Afterward, he fell asleep next to her, and she lay in bed thinking about what he had said, trying to imagine what it would be like being married to him. And for once, for some strange reason, it felt comfortable, instead of scary. And then she thought of what Adrian had said to her, about compromise, and maybe if it meant that much to him, and truly made no difference to her, it was something worth doing. She lay in bed and thought about it all night, and she fell asleep finally when the sun came up, and in the morning, she felt strangely peaceful.

He was lying next to her, looking at her when she woke up, and she smiled at him. She had never loved anyone as she loved him, and maybe he was right. She didn't need the paperwork, but maybe it was the right thing to do, to stand beside him and let the world know how much she loved him. But more than anything, she knew it was a way of saying to him the one thing she had never said to anyone, and sworn she never would, it was a way of saying “I trust you.” That was the core of it for her. She had loved a few men in her life, but she had never trusted anyone, and she did him. Maybe now it was time to prove it.

“You remember that thing you asked me last night,” she said in a whisper as she lay next to him.

“Mmmm… yeah…” He smiled at her. “I think I remember.” He was expecting another one of her speeches about why she didn't need marriage. “What about it?”

“I think I'd like to do it.” She said it so softly, he almost didn't hear it.

“Are you serious?” he whispered back. He had no idea what had made her agree finally. He was stunned.

“Yeah. I think so. Maybe it's not such a bad idea. Just one time. With you. Generally speaking, it's against my principles, but for you, I was thinking of making an exception.”

“That'll do.” He was beaming at her. She only had to be brave about it once. That was generally the best way. One time only. “Will you really marry me, Fiona?” After everything she'd said to try and talk him out of it, he hardly dared to believe it.

“Yes, I think so. Unless I come to my senses.”

“Maybe we should do it soon, before you do that.”

“When were you thinking?”

“Whenever you want.” He wanted to make it as easy and painless as possible for her.

“Maybe in a few weeks, after we get home. Just the two of us. And maybe Sir Winston.”

“Do I have to marry the dog too?”

“Absolutely.” She looked as though she meant it, and he wasn't about to argue with her. He was much too excited, and much too happy. “Are you going to tell your children before we do it?” She looked understandably worried.

“I don't think so. They're not going to want to be there. I'd rather tell them after. What do you think?”

“I'd like that better. We can have a party afterward or something. But I think when we actually do ‘the deed,’ ” she hated to even say the word, “it should be private.”

“Name the day, and I'll be there,” he said, and held her close to him, and then he got out of bed, fished the ring out of his pocket, and slipped it on her finger. She lay in bed staring at it in wonder and amazement, and then tears slid slowly down her cheeks as she looked at him. She had finally dared, and finally trusted him enough to do it. Or she was going to, anyway. All she could do then was lie in bed and hold him, knowing how much she loved him. She felt as though she had come home finally, to someone she was truly safe with. She knew that she could trust this man with her heart, and her life, without question.

Chapter 11

Their wedding day
was as simple and as easy as they could possibly have made it. One day after work, they went to get the license. Then Fiona made an appointment with a minister she knew, and on a Saturday afternoon in January, she and John went to a little church she had always liked in the Village. They took a cab downtown, and she brought Sir Winston with her. It was not the kind of wedding John would have planned, but it was exactly what Fiona wanted. She came downstairs wearing a white suit, and a fur coat she seldom wore, and she wore her hair sleek and straight and long. She had never looked as beautiful as when they exchanged their vows in the tiny church, and he put a simple gold ring on her finger. And as she looked up at him, she actually believed, finally, that she belonged to him forever, and he belonged to her. She had never realized how much this would mean to her. To Fiona, it was a promise never to be broken, and she knew that to John it was just as powerful, which was why she had married him. It was a solemn vow they both believed in. And when they went home that afternoon, they just sat there for a while and drank champagne, and then she started to giggle.

“I can't believe I did it,” she said in disbelief.

“Neither can I. I'm so glad you did.
We
did,” he corrected. They decided not to call his children till the next morning. They didn't want to do anything to spoil it.

They spent the night in bed, holding each other, and made love, and everything around them seemed to be quiet and peaceful. And when they woke up in the morning, it was snowing and the entire world was covered in a beautiful white blanket.

They made breakfast and walked the dog, and John looked at her with amusement.

“By the way, what's your name now? Just so I know when I introduce you.”

“What do you think? Does Fiona Anderson sound too weird? Fiona Monaghan-Anderson sounds too pretentious. I'll tell you what, I'll try Anderson for a few weeks, and if I like it, I'll stick with it.”

“That sounds sensible. I have to admit, I hope you like it.”

“We could trade names,” she said, feeling giddy.

After they got back to the house, she called Adrian, and John went upstairs to call his daughters. Both calls were predictable. Adrian was beside himself, he was so thrilled, and both girls were nasty to their father. He knew they had hoped to stop him by their antics, and they were horrified to find they hadn't. But there was nothing they could do to him now. He had married Fiona, and he hoped they would make their peace with it, but even if they didn't, it wouldn't change anything. Fiona didn't ask a lot of questions about it after he had talked to them. She hadn't expected them to react any differently. Adrian had asked her if she was still going to Paris for the January couture shows.

“Of course I am. I didn't quit my job, I just got married,” she said. It had only taken her forty-two years to do it. It was utterly amazing.

But they barely had time to celebrate it. Fiona said that they had taken the honeymoon before the wedding, when they went to the Caribbean. She left for Paris ten days later for the spring/summer couture shows. And right after she got back, they had the ready-to-wear shows during fashion week. Hell week, as she called it. She was working constantly, and scarcely saw John at all for the first month they were married. They didn't even have time to plan a party. And now when his daughters came home, he told them that they could either stay with him at Fiona's, or he and Fiona would both come home, but he was no longer willing to come home alone to see them.