Mad About the Man Read online

  So much for being calm, cool, and collected when it came to doing business with Maddox.

  Without giving herself more time to dither, she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Brie, it’s Trish.”

  Her nerves deflated. “Oh, hey, Trish.”

  “Don’t sound so excited. Who’d you think it was?”

  “Nobody. What’s up?”

  Her paralegal paused briefly, then started speaking again at her usual mile-a-minute pace. “I’m doing that research on Bloomfield like you asked me to and I’ve hit a couple roadblocks. Wondered if you’d have time to pop by the law library where I’m set up, so we can hash things out.”

  Bloomfield—one of her other clients. That came as a relief.

  Still, even as the tension slid out of her muscles, her low spirits returned, leaving her oddly and unexpectedly tired.

  “Sure,” she told the other woman, “I’ll swing by. I have a few minutes. You ready now?”

  “Yeah. I’ll get coffee and see you in five.”

  “In five.”

  She hung up. As she did, her smartphone lit up, playing the lullaby from Twilight—the ringtone she’d picked for Maddox, even though he wasn’t immortal or a vampire.

  Crap, she’d forgotten about that. It would be next on her to-do list to delete.

  In the meantime, the phone was still ringing.

  What did he want? Hadn’t they already said all there was to say last night? She stared at his name and picture—the photo something else to delete first chance she got.

  Four rings.

  Five.

  She hit “ignore” and pushed away from her desk.

  She had work to do.

  * * *

  Maddox disconnected.

  He didn’t know why he’d called Brie—just a masochist, he supposed. It wasn’t like she was going to listen to anything else he had to say. She’d kicked him out last night, and exactly as promised, she’d sent the key and passes he’d given her over to him in a plain brown envelope.

  If only she would believe him. If only she would see that he’d never meant to hurt or deceive her. That he loved her—so much it was driving him stark raving crazy that this issue with his separation was separating them.

  But he’d meant what he’d said last night. This wasn’t over between them. He was going to get her back, even if he had to move mountains to accomplish it.

  And it looked like he might have to, he realized after he’d spoken with his divorce attorney. To keep it off the radar at Brie’s firm, he’d gone with the top family-law guy at his old firm, meeting here at his hotel and swearing the other man to complete anonymity, unbreakable lawyer-client confidentiality.

  He had already set the divorce wheels in motion before Brie and her investigator had even found out that he was still legally married. Why the guy couldn’t also have discovered that he was actively pursuing a divorce, he didn’t know. But he supposed it was his own fault for wanting to keep it all hush-hush, the very thing that had put him on Brie’s shit list in the first place. That and the fact that he hadn’t gotten a goddamned divorce eleven years ago like he should have.

  But just as it had then, it looked like he was going to have a fight on his hands with Ellen. The thought put him in mind of today’s call with the lawyer.

  “What do you mean, she won’t agree?” Maddox had said, his hand squeezing the phone. “She has to agree.”

  “Technically, yes, she doesn’t have a choice about the divorce itself and can’t stop you from filing.”

  Maddox was beginning to get sick of the word “technically.” “But?”

  “But she can greatly slow down the process. Considering the length of time you have been married—”

  “We were only married in the conventional sense for a year. We’ve been separated for the last ten.”

  “Which the judge will take into account. Even so, she is entitled to an equitable distribution of assets and since you are the one with the most assets and you did not have a prenup—”

  “I’m the one who’s going to get screwed.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen,” the attorney assured him with confidence. “I know ways around these things. However, that means time. . . .”

  “Which is the one thing I don’t want to spend.”

  How ironic, after all these years when he wouldn’t have cared how much time it took to pursue a divorce, now he wanted one as instantaneously as possible.

  If only Brie weren’t so hurt and angry. If only he didn’t worry that he might lose her forever if he didn’t get free in time. He couldn’t risk it; he loved Brie far too much.

  His fist tightened again on the phone. “See how much Ellen wants to make this go fast. I want it done and over with.”

  “Understood. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I have news.”

  Now it was wait and see.

  In the meantime, Brie was doing her best to cut him out of her life.

  But not completely, he reminded himself. So far, he hadn’t received word from her law firm advising him that she would no longer be acting as his attorney. He’d been half expecting to hear that she’d handed him off to one of the other partners.

  But so far, nothing.

  It could just be ice-cold pragmatism on her part. Then again, maybe she didn’t really want to sever all ties with him. Maybe some part of her still loved him too much to let him go completely.

  She might not take his personal calls, but she would take the ones he made for business. And that’s what he would use to keep her in his life for now.

  And once he got his divorce . . .

  Brie Grayson had always been a challenge. He’d won her love and forgiveness once; he would win them again.

  Because anything else was unthinkable.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  An icy blast of December wind struck Brie in the face, the moist heaviness in the air promising snow in the near future.

  Looks like it’s going to be a white Christmas, Brie thought as she stood on the train platform at the station near her parents’ home in Connecticut. She repositioned the overnight bag on her shoulder and scanned the people moving around her in search of a familiar face.

  Her brother had been tasked with picking her up again, but the redhead she spotted wasn’t P.G.; it was his twin instead.

  “Madelyn,” she called, waving a hand to catch her sister’s attention.

  “Brie!” Madelyn hurried forward, a wide smile curving her lips.

  They hugged, quickly but exuberantly, then broke apart again.

  “Brr, it’s cold,” Madelyn said. “Here, give me some of that stuff you’ve got—then let’s hightail it to the car before we freeze to death.”

  Grateful for the help, Brie passed her a big shopping bag full of presents wrapped in festive holiday paper, leaving her a free hand for her purse and briefcase.

  Together they trudged out to the parking lot.

  “Zack and the twins didn’t come with you?” Brie asked.

  Madelyn shook her head. “They’re back at the house. Zack’s on a top secret mission in the garage putting together toys, and the girls are decorating cutout cookies with Mom, though I think mostly they’re just ruining their dinner and making a mess. But everyone is having fun, which is what the holidays are for.”

  They reached Madelyn’s Volvo and took a minute to stow her belongings and the sack of presents in the trunk. She and Madelyn went around to their respective sides and climbed in. Madelyn was driving.

  “So how come P.G. isn’t here?” Brie buckled her seat belt. “I thought he was going to pick me up.”

  Madelyn started the car, then busied herself adjusting the heater. “He was, but something came up and Mom asked me to do it instead.”

 
“What something?” She heard a note in her sister’s voice that she didn’t like. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Look, why don’t we get home and then I’ll tell you about it there?”

  “No,” Brie said insistently, “tell me about it now.”

  Madelyn sighed and leaned back in the seat rather than pull out of the parking spot. “They were hoping not to put a damper on everyone’s Christmas, but I suppose there’s no point hiding it. Once you see her, well . . .”

  “See her?” Brie’s mind raced over the words, putting two and two together. “You mean Caroline, don’t you?”

  A look of deep sadness wiped away Madelyn’s earlier smile. She nodded. “Her cancer’s back.”

  Without thinking, Brie reached out and gripped Madelyn’s hand. “Oh, God. How bad?”

  Madelyn squeezed her hand back. “Bad. It’s metastasized. Brie, she’s riddled with it,” she said, her voice cracking with anguish. “It’s terminal this time.”

  “How long?”

  “How long have I known or how long does she have?”

  “Both.”

  “Zack and I found out this morning. P.G. stopped by for a few minutes and I could tell immediately that something was wrong. I went back with him to their house and she looks bad.”

  “Surely there’s some kind of treatment—”

  Madelyn shook her head again. “It’s inoperable. They’ve already consulted more than one oncologist. P.G. was so desperate he even took out a second mortgage on their house so she could go to some exclusive hospital in Texas that’s supposed to be doing amazing things. But after examining her, the doctors told her to go home and get her affairs in order.”

  “And that’s it? They’re just giving up?”

  Madelyn gave her a direct look. “They’re accepting the inevitable. Caroline says she wants to spend her final days surrounded by her family and friends, not in a hospital, hooked up to every machine imaginable. I think she has that right; it’s what I’d do if I were her.”

  Brie fell silent, blinking back the tears that came to her eyes. “Yes, of course. It’s just that she seemed to be doing so well. I thought she’d beaten it.”

  “We all did.”

  But in hindsight, she remembered her sister-in-law’s tiredness at Ivy’s wedding, how they’d all put it down to overwork, even P.G. How he must be suffering, watching the love of his life fade away before his eyes. And the children, to lose their mother so young.

  Madelyn sniffed and dug a tissue out of her purse. She handed a second one to Brie without asking. The two of them blew their noses.

  “She wants to have a nice Christmas, especially for the kids, since it’ll be their last together. How she thinks she could conceal her condition from anyone, I don’t know, but we’re all going to pretend, to make her happy.”

  Pretend she isn’t dying.

  Brie couldn’t speak for a minute. “Okay. Whatever Caroline needs.”

  Madelyn sighed and adjusted her seat belt. “We’d better be getting back. They’ll be worrying about us otherwise.”

  Brie nodded.

  But rather than put the car in reverse, Madelyn sat unmoving, clearly lost in thought.

  “Is there something else?” Brie ventured.

  Her sister shot her a sideways glance. “Nothing that can’t wait.” She reached for the gearshift.

  Brie stopped her with a hand. “Well, you have to tell me now. Go on, whatever it is, no matter how bad, I can take it.”

  But could she? With the tragic news about Caroline on top of her breakup with Maddox, she honestly didn’t know how many more horrible things she could stand. But her sister needed her and clearly wanted to get something else off her chest. She would deal with it for Madelyn’s sake.

  Inwardly, she braced herself.

  Madelyn sighed, then met her eyes. “That’s the trouble—it isn’t bad. Actually it’s the opposite, but I feel terrible being happy for myself when Caroline is . . . well, when she’s . . . dying. But I’ve got to tell someone or I’m going to pop.”

  “Let’s not have that. Just think of the mess,” Brie said, joking to lighten the mood. “Actually, it would be great to hear something good for a change.”

  A secret little smile curved Madelyn’s mouth. “I’m pregnant.”

  “What!”

  Madelyn gave a half laugh, her smile widening. “Ten weeks. Besides Zack, you’re the only one who knows. I haven’t even told Mom. I was going to, you know, Christmas surprise, but once I found out about Caroline, I didn’t have the heart. My news will keep until later.”

  But Brie was shaking her head. “No, no, you should tell everyone now, tonight. It’s just the thing to brighten up the holiday. And Caroline won’t mind—she’ll be thrilled for you. I’m thrilled for you. I’m going to be an aunt again.”

  Crowing with pleasure, Brie reached over and pulled Madelyn into a fierce hug. Madelyn hugged her and laughed back.

  “Zack is delighted, I’m sure,” Brie said once they broke apart.

  “Delighted is an understatement. He’s already busy converting the spare room into a nursery. We’re waiting on paint colors, though, until we find out the baby’s sex. He says he wants another girl, but I’m kind of hoping for a boy. We’ll see.”

  “Shall we go home and share the good news?”

  Madelyn sent her a smile that was still tinged with underlying sadness. She put the car in gear. “Yes, let’s.”

  * * *

  The next evening, the constant excitement and chatter in the house was finally beginning to dissipate. Christmas dinner was long over, the dishes washed, and Zack and Madelyn’s girls were snuggled into bed, dreaming about the presents Santa had left.

  P.G., Caroline, and their children had come over early and spent the day, Caroline looking as gaunt and frail as Madelyn had warned she would. But Caroline was determined for this Christmas to be the best one ever and so she’d smiled and laughed with everyone else. They in turn had pretended nothing was wrong, exactly as she wished. Even P.G. did his best to be merry, playing games with the children and watching football with the adults. But he couldn’t completely hide the grief and torment in his eyes, especially when he thought no one was looking.

  Brie had been right about Madelyn’s pregnancy, which she and Zack had shared with everyone last night over cups of eggnog—hers alcohol free. The happy news had lifted the mood in the house, a counterbalance for the inevitable sorrow ahead.

  By nine, Caroline was exhausted from the long day, so P.G. had taken his family home, the trunk stuffed full of presents and leftovers. Brian and Heather, who were aware of their mother’s illness, though perhaps not the true severity of it, had been unnaturally quiet now that the temporary distraction of the holiday was over.

  Everyone else, including James and Ivy, who had long since returned from their honeymoon but who still acted like honeymooners, had settled in the living room around the fragrant, beautifully decorated Christmas tree. The live blue spruce, which would be planted in an already-dug hole in the front yard, rose a full eight feet toward the ceiling. Its lights twinkled, a festive reminder of the day nearly done.

  Brie gazed at it for a long minute, then got to her feet. She was nearly done in too, tired after the day, bone weary after working hard to act like she was having fun when there was little fun inside her.

  All day she’d thought about Maddox—or, rather, tried not to think of him, which was nearly the same thing. What had he done today? Whom had he been with?

  But she didn’t want to know. She was through with him; he was out of her life, even if he had sent her a Christmas present.

  Sneaky bastard, he’d had it delivered here to her parents’ house this morning. Her dad had signed for the box, so it had been impossible to refuse or return. She still hadn’t opened it, stuffing it into her purse when no one was w
atching.

  Back before Thanksgiving, Madelyn had asked her about Maddox: whether the two of them were still seeing each other. Brie had said no, that things hadn’t worked out. To Brie’s relief, Madelyn had left it alone.

  For some reason that even Brie still didn’t fully understand, she hadn’t told Madelyn about the fact that Maddox was married. Maybe it was because she didn’t want Madelyn to think badly of her for being stupid enough to get involved with not one but two married men. But the bigger reason, oddly enough, was that she didn’t want Madelyn to think badly of Maddox.

  Which was the stupidest reason of all.

  The rest of the family was busy watching a movie on television. Brie turned her eyes to the screen and was trying to pay attention when the phone rang in the other room. Who could be calling on Christmas?

  “I’ll get it,” she offered, getting to her feet.

  The others nodded and went back to their show.

  Out in the hall, she picked up the receiver. “Grayson residence.”

  “Hello, Brie.”

  Her breath caught in her throat, her grip tightening on the receiver. She didn’t need to ask who was on the other end; she would know his voice anywhere. “Hello.”

  “Brie,” her mother called from the living room. “Who is it? Do I need to come out there?”

  She cupped a hand over the mouthpiece. “No. It’s for me. It’s . . . work.”

  “On Christmas night?”

  “It’s nothing major. Just a couple loose ends for tomorrow.”

  “Tell them you can’t talk. You’re on holiday.”

  “Yes, Mom. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”

  That girl, Brie heard her mother say in a quieter voice, never can get her to relax.

  Well, she is your daughter.

  Yours too, Philip Grayson.

  Her father laughed; then the room grew quiet again except for the sound of the TV.

  With the portable phone in hand, Brie moved away from the crowded living room, then down another hall and into a small study. She slid the pocket doors closed behind her. Only then did she put the phone back to her ear.

  “You still there?”