He blinked rapidly and realized his vision was not quite right. He coughed and fidgeted in his chair. “Excuse me?” His stomach hurt with a sharp pain that might have been bad mayonnaise.
Suddenly, his father whirled around, his face grim and resolute. “You heard her. We’re getting a divorce.”
Morgan gaped at them as his world crashed at his feet. This was it, then. Hannah would never marry him now.
That ludicrous thought was completely out of context. He should be worrying about his parents . . . their well-being. He should be doing something to make this right.
But he sat, paralyzed, in the cheery yellow and white kitchen and managed the only word he could formulate in his shock. “Why?”
His dad turned back to the window. His mom folded and refolded her cloth napkin. His mom always used cloth, whatever the occasion. She thought paper was low-class and showed a lack of hospitality.
He wanted to get up and leave. He felt a pressure in his chest and an urge to vomit. But he gripped the edge of the table and said it again. “Why?”
His mother faced him, her chin high and her eyes bright with defiance. “Your father and I have nothing in common. We’ve grown apart. We no longer want the same things in life.”
He leaned forward, desperation and an oddly juvenile sense of loss eating him alive. “But you still love each other . . . right?”
His father finally faced them both, his arms crossed over his chest, his lips twisted in what was almost a sneer. But his eyes held suffering. “Apparently not, son. It seems that we’ve used up that particular commodity, and it’s not a renewable resource.”
Morgan felt like a stuttering fool. He was not prepared for this, had no training for this. How did you tell your parents they were acting like idiots? He cleared his throat and glanced in anguish from one to the other. “But what will you do?”
His mother spoke up without missing a beat. “Your father will keep the house since he’s so attached to his golfing buddies.” Her voice dripped venom. “I plan to move . . . maybe get an apartment in New York. I’ve always wanted to enjoy the cosmopolitan lifestyle.”
Morgan’s dad let out a vicious curse his son had never heard him use in thirty years. Then he gazed at his only child. “We had to tell you first. Before gossip got out.” He stopped suddenly, and real contrition marked his face. “I’m sorry, Morgan. But this is for the best. And you’ll just have to accept it.”
Hannah felt a bit awkward walking into the group appointment alone, but when she explained about Morgan and the theme park site and his parents, everyone nodded. You couldn’t live in Florida and not understand how a hurricane could turn life upside down.
The other two couples had arrived before her, and she was surprised to see a noticeable difference in their behavior since the last time. Both sets of spouses were practically sitting in each other’s laps, smiling and touching and generally looking like honeymooners.
Hannah hid a frown as she got comfortable on her one half of a loveseat. Had she and Morgan missed out on something the rest of them had discovered behind closed doors?
Thankfully, Dr. Pat and Dr. Sheila hadn’t changed. They were friendly and professional. After inquiring about how everyone had fared during the storm, they got the ball rolling.
Dr. Sheila smiled coyly. “Well,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Were you all happy with how your sessions unfolded?”
Shaun leaned forward, his gaze intent. “I have a question about that.”
Dr. Pat waved a hand. “Go ahead.”
“How did you know or how did you decide what kind of scenario to set up for each individual session since you had two sets of responses every time to work from?”
Dr. Pat nodded. “Good question. We made judgment calls. Sheila and I read both sets of answers and together we decided what aspect of your relationship had been called into question on that particular day. Sometimes both of you headed in the same direction with your answers, and our job was easy. At other times, you gave divergent comments, but even then we could usually pick out a theme or a point of conflict. We tried to address those as well.”
Shaun sat back in his seat and Dr. Sheila smiled, encompassing the five of them in her gaze. “So who wants to be brave and tell me what you learned about yourself and your spouse? You can avoid specifics. We don’t want to kiss and tell.” A quiet titter of embarrassed laughter filtered through the room.
Timmy and Rachelle were holding hands. The young woman grinned at her husband and then looked shyly at the group. “I was able to step back and see how I was making our baby the center of my life. That’s not healthy, and it sure isn’t fair to Tim or our marriage. Plus, I’m cheating myself when I feel only like a mom and not like a wife.”
“A very sexy wife,” Timmy cut in with a loving glance at his spouse. “I learned that even though parents make sacrifices for their kids, the most important thing we can do for them is to create a committed, happy relationship with our partner and to keep our love alive and strong.”
Dr. Sheila clapped her hands softly, practically bouncing in her seat. “I’m so proud of you. This is a tough and crucial time in your marriage, and I see you both growing and changing in the best possible way.”
Dr. Pat smiled indulgently at his wife’s enthusiasm. He turned to Shaun and Danita. “What about you two? You certainly have the most experience at this marriage thing. Do you have any insights for us?”
Danita rubbed her husband’s thigh and then clasped his hand in hers. “I’d like to tell these young ones that it’s not ever completely smooth sailing. And even love takes work. Shaun and I both thought we had all the answers. We made it for a very long time with no real problems. But then our boys went off to college, and we
both
grieved. Change is difficult. But you have to communicate with the one you love in order to get through it.”
Dr. Sheila made a note on her clipboard. “You two have set a fine example for the rest of this group. And I can see from your faces that you’ve crossed a hurdle or two.” She paused and shifted her attention. “Now you, Hannah. You’re on the hot seat, I guess, without your partner, but I’m sure you can speak for yourself at least, even if you don’t feel comfortable sharing Morgan’s feelings.”
Hannah had thought this part would be easy. But with all eyes on her, her brain went blank. Suddenly all she could think about was the wild, naughty sex she and Morgan had engaged in just down the hall.
She felt her cheeks flush, and she grimaced. “Well, I’m really sorry he’s not here. But on the other hand, it makes me a little more at ease in mentioning some things. For instance, I’ve been reluctant to set a wedding date. I had this terrible chip on my shoulder about marital longevity. And I was so afraid that if I let myself say yes to Morgan that somehow my happiness would be snatched away when I least expected it.”
Dr. Pat narrowed his eyes. “That sounds like the voice of experience, my dear. Would you care to elaborate on the subject?”
She shrugged. “My parents were married for about five minutes. My mother shoved me off on my grandparents for them to raise. They both died a few years back. It’s difficult to trust in the future when you know firsthand how quickly things can change.”
“But you’re willing to take a chance now?” Dr. Sheila’s face was nakedly hopeful.
Hannah laughed, feeling a lightness in her chest that was new and precious. “Definitely. I’m planning to fix a romantic dinner tonight for Morgan, and over dessert, I’ll tell him I’m finally ready to set a date.”
They all cheered and teased her and for the first time in a long time, she really could see a rosy future ahead. For her. For Morgan. And possibly even for one or two of those tiny, squalling bundles of joy.
The group appointment wrapped up not long after. The doctors urged all of them to make use of another round of sexual sessions anytime it seemed necessary or even for just plain fun.
Dr. Sheila hugged them one at a time. “Sometimes we all need to do something special for ourselves even when things are going extremely well.”
Hannah stopped by the store on the way home and picked up steaks to grill. Morgan usually took care of that, but since she wanted to surprise him, she’d cook early and have it all ready when he arrived.
She was a little surprised that she hadn’t heard from him. She’d called his cell once after she left the Hursts’ office, but apparently Morgan had his phone turned off. It worried her. She hoped the situation with his parents was nothing serious. Their home was lovely. She’d hate to think anything had been ruined.
In between working on the evening’s special meal, she showered, shaved her legs, and put on a flattering, gauzy sundress, one Morgan hadn’t seen. She dried her hair and brushed it until it bounced and crackled around her shoulders. Then she pulled it up in a high ponytail on the back of her head. It was unbearably hot and muggy outside, and since she’d been in and out to the grill, her small kitchen was not cooling down much despite the valiant efforts of her air-conditioning unit.
Her stomach was still bothering her—well, her abdomen really. Kind of a low, dull ache. One she still attributed to PMS although it wasn’t exactly what she was used to. As good as the food smelled, she wasn’t very hungry. And if her period started, she would feel funny about having sex. So maybe it would hold off for another few hours.
By five thirty, she was really getting concerned. She’d checked her phone a thousand times, but no text messages appeared, and the special ring tone she had for Morgan never sounded.
To keep herself from getting completely frazzled, she filled the sink with soapy water and decided to go ahead and wash the dirty grill. The steaks were keeping warm in the oven and all the other food was ready.
Before she picked up the scrub pad, she went to the kitchen table and removed her watch and engagement ring, dropping them with a little clink into a small china dish that had belonged to Grammy. Hannah was ultrasuperstitious about losing that gorgeous diamond down the drain, so she was always careful to remove her jewelry anytime she cleaned up the kitchen.
Another half hour passed. The grill was shiny clean, the countertops were dry and neat, and still no Morgan.
Finally, at ten after six, her doorbell rang.
Seventeen
Morgan could have used his key, but he didn’t. It was too much of an effort to fish it out of his pocket. When Hannah flung open the door, her expression was a mixture of pleasure and pique. "Morgan, for godsakes. Where have you been? I was getting worried.”
He allowed her to draw him inside, but he evaded her embrace, pretending instead that he had a pressing need to shrug out of his rain slicker. He hung it on the back of a chair and faced her.
His heart was thumping against his ribs and his mouth was dry. Hannah looked as beautiful as he had ever seen her. She was wearing the kind of dress that begged a man to strip it off, and her face was flushed from spending time in the kitchen. Her feet were bare. She often kicked off her shoes when she was cooking.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to notice his silence. She was talking enough for both of them. The timer on the oven dinged, and Hannah walked out of the room, motioning for him to follow. “I thought you might be starving. Everything is ready.”
He stood just inside the doorway and watched her flit from stove to table. Maybe he was trying to memorize how she looked, how she moved. He felt like he was suffocating. His forehead was damp and his stomach churned.
She set the plate of steaks on a hot pad and frowned. “So tell me about your parents. Is the house okay?”
He nodded slowly. “The house is fine.” In his ears his voice sounded rusty and old, but Hannah didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.
She went to the fridge and removed a bottle of white wine. “So why did they ask you to come?”
His fists clenched and he relaxed them deliberately. “Some travel plans they wanted to talk about,” he said vaguely. “How’s Elda?”
Hannah pulled the cork from the bottle and poured two glasses. “She’s great. They’re having a posthurricane party tonight. Can you believe it?” She handed him a goblet. “Oh, and by the way, the session with Dr. Pat and Dr. Sheila was very interesting. I’ll have to tell you all about it. But first things first. Have you heard any more news about your mess at work?”
He shrugged. “Hurry up and wait. That’s about it.” Suddenly he couldn’t bear to drag this out any longer. A quick, sharp slice was the best.
He set his glass on the table. “I know you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, Hannah, but I’m sorry. I’m really not hungry. Mostly, I just came for this.” He watched himself, as if in slow motion, lean over and pluck the sparkling engagement ring he had given her from a little china dish.
Hannah cocked her head. “I thought we agreed we’d wait on resizing it until later. It’s not all that loose, honestly.”
He saw puzzlement in her big brown eyes. He looked down at the ring. “I’m taking it back,” he said slowly.
Still she didn’t understand. She was frowning and studying his face.
He dropped the ring in his pants pocket and faced her, his expression deliberately blank. “It’s over, Hannah.” There. He’d said it first. Before she had a chance to be the one. This way he was in control. This way he could avoid the pain of being dumped. Which was, of course, bound to happen when Hannah heard the validation of what she had believed from the beginning.
He saw her go pale. “What’s over?” she asked carefully. She was leaning back against the sink, her arms circling her waist.
Misery filled his chest. Grief squeezed his lungs and made it hard to breathe. “My parents are getting a divorce,” he said dully. “So you were right all along. Nothing is permanent, least of all marriage. And besides, admit it. You never wanted to marry me in the first place. You took the ring that day I proposed, because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings. You felt sorry for me, like I was some charity case loser.”