Julianne’s stomach clenched. She didn’t want Stephen’s family at the wedding. Truth be told, she didn’t want anyone to witness the ceremony. Especially her niece and nephew, who were too young to understand it wasn’t real. But Stephen was her half brother, one who obviously had finally decided to take his role seriously. So she kept her protests to herself. She was all in now, and there was no stopping.
She shook her head. “I’ll probably get there after everyone’s asleep. I want to feed Owen again tonight.”
He looked like he wanted to say more. Instead he nodded at Sebastian and Nicky and headed out the door.
Just as she had the day before, Julianne put a shaking hand to paper and signed the prenuptial agreement. It was the first step; in a few days, she’d be married to Will Connelly.
Seven
It should have been a simple thing, getting married. Theirs was to be a marriage based strictly on a business arrangement, a perfunctory step to legitimize Owen. When the words had shot out of his mouth at the hospital the other day, the idea made perfect sense. They could rusticate in North Carolina and no one in town would dare question Owen’s legitimacy. Problem solved. All that was needed was a license and the brief utterance of a few select pro forma words to make the whole thing legal. No flowers, no music, no cake, no wedding and all the inane crap that went with one. Easy.
Instead, the process took two full days to pull off. Two days in which everyone had equal opportunity to throw their two cents at Will. Starting with his mother.
“Are you sure about this, Will?”
The question, posed in his mother’s soft, unassuming Southern drawl, had begun to burn a hole in the side of his head, he’d heard it so many times in the past forty-eight hours. Teammates, his coach, Hank, Roscoe, and now his mother were all questioning his sanity with the same five-word refrain.
Was he sure about marrying Julianne Marchione? Hell no! But since she was his son’s mother, it was a necessary step.
“I’d think this would make you happy, Mom. Finally, there will be a marriage in the Connelly family.”
He hadn’t meant for his words to wound, but his mother’s mouth tightened ever so slightly as she clasped and unclasped her fingers in her lap. With a sigh, Will sank down on the leather sofa beside her, taking one of her hands in his. They were holed up in the study of Hank Osbourne’s house. Maryland’s marriage license requirements were the least restrictive in the D.C. area, so the ceremony would take place in front of a judge who happened to be one of Hank’s golfing buddies. Best of all, they’d be away from the glaring eyes of the media.
Despite Will’s attempts to keep things simple, Julianne’s brother seemed determined to turn the nuptials into a three-ring circus, repeatedly asking Will if he wanted to invite any special guests. Will was used to people who wanted to rub shoulders with famous jocks, but he wasn’t going to invite any of his friends to witness a pretend wedding. That would only make a joke of their own marriages. He certainly wasn’t going to ask his teammates to participate in this farce. And he couldn’t ask Coach Zevalos, the one man who’d been like a father to him all those years ago, not while the senator’s name was linked to the mob of media and senate committee staff trying to bring him down. Instead, his mom would stand up as his only witness.
“What I’m sure about is this is the best thing for Owen.” He brushed a strand of soft brown hair off her cheek. Attractively dressed in a shimmery peach dress that wrapped around her narrow waist, his mother looked younger than her age of forty-six. But then, she’d always been pretty, oftentimes the object of many leers and taunts from the teenage boys she’d transported to school during her days as a bus driver. If she knew how many times he’d fought over the suggestive remarks other boys had made about her, she never said.
Whereas Will was brawny and muscular, she was small-boned and delicate. The only similarity between mother and son: emerald green eyes. Today, Annabeth’s glistened with unshed tears.
“Lots of professional athletes father children with women they’re not married to. It’s not like you’d be a pariah. Sadly, I think it’s actually become socially acceptable.”
“Not for me,” Will growled. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting it.”
His mother patted their joined hands. “I’m not. Truly, I’m proud of you for taking responsibility for this. But you don’t know this woman. Not really. How can you trust her enough to marry her?”
“I don’t trust her. It’s like that saying, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. And I don’t need to trust her fully because it’s not that kind of marriage. I only have three months before I have to be in training camp and then the season starts. I can’t waste that time arguing over who’ll have custody on which days. I want to bond with my son instead, which means we need to live together in the same house. Being married shields Owen from the negative stigma you know he’ll face.”
“He’s a baby! Do you think he really cares?”
“I care.” Of all people, his mother should have understood that. Will was annoyed that he had to defend his decision to his mother. “We’ve both signed a prenup, which will make the process easier when we separate after the season starts.”
“My heavens, you make it all sound so romantic.”
“This from the mother who used to tell me that fairy tales were for books and movies, but not real life.” It was one of the things Will most admired about his mother; she was pragmatic and determined to roll with whatever life threw at her.
She wiped away a tear. “I only said that because you were constantly dreaming our life would suddenly turn into an episode of Dawson’s Creek or a Disney movie where a football coach would arrive in town and announce he’s your long-lost father.”
“It wasn’t always a football coach. I would have been happy with the Matrix.” Or any man who would give his mother back her youth and rescue them from the poverty that had constantly nipped at their heels.
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I just want you to have a chance at a relationship. A real marriage. It’s too late for me, but I’d hoped for something better for you.”
Will placed a finger beneath his mother’s chin, lifting it so they were eye to eye. “Hey, who says it’s too late for you? You could have a relationship. A marriage, too. You just need to get out of that stupid town and live a little.”
It was a familiar argument. Thanks to the outrageous salary Will earned to play a game, his mother could finally afford not to work and to enjoy life. Instead, she continued to dig into her hometown, choosing to live there and manage her grandmother’s antiques store. Maintaining the weathered hundred-year-old building that housed the store cost more than his mother brought in each year, but she refused to give it up. Her unwillingness to venture out of Chances Inlet frustrated Will.
His mother shook her head. “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m happy. My life is comfortable and familiar. I’m too set in my ways to want to start over somewhere else, much less with someone else. Besides, I’m not going anywhere while my grandson is in town.”
Will kissed her on the forehead. “We’ll both be able to forge a relationship with Owen. It’s not just the two of us anymore.”
“And his mother? How does she fit into our new family dynamic?”
His gut clenched at the thought of Julianne. He’d been avoiding her these past few days, catching glimpses of her at the hospital when he visited Owen. The conflicting emotions that rolled through his body every time he saw her made him nuts. On the one hand, he wanted to hate her for attempting to shut him out of Owen’s life, but whatever attraction that hummed between them still pulled at him every time he laid eyes on her. He only hoped he hadn’t made a mistake by insisting they spend the next three months in close quarters. For once, he was grateful his mother had remained in Chances Inlet; she’d be effective at running interference.