Major hoped his tension from the time they got out of the SUV at the TV studio until the cameras turned off would appear to Meredith as nothing more than nerves over being on the live broadcast. But her fishing expedition in the car, trying to find out what had happened with Ma, had sent him into a state of near panic, afraid he might have to lie to her or tell her the truth, both of which would ruin everything.
On the way back to the office from the studio, he talked about the great job Alaine’s team had done at putting together the documentary-style footage on all of the preparation leading up to the banquet as well as the event itself. And he’d been right—doing the live broadcast had been much easier to bear with Meredith sitting beside him.
He kept up a steady stream of inane chatter until they got on the elevator to go back to their offices.
“Can you have your reports to me by the end of the day?” Meredith’s voice sounded tired.
“To you or to Corie?”
“To me. I’ve got to take everything home with me to work on this weekend.”
“You work too hard.” His arms itched to hug her, so instead, he took a step back and leaned against the bumper rail at the back of the elevator car.
“I know, but it’s part and parcel of the job of being the executive director of a department. I knew that when I accepted the position.”
He wanted to say more, but her cell phone rang. The tension drained from her face when she put the thing to her ear. “Hey, Ward.”
He hated the softness, the warmth in her tone.
“Tonight? Well, I have a lot of work to do.... Sure, I could do something quick.” Meredith waved her farewell when the elevator doors opened at the fifth floor.
Major crossed his arms and stared out the window on the rest of the ride up to the top floor. He deserved every bit of the awful, gut-wrenching pain now ripping apart his insides at the idea of Meredith falling in love with and possibly marrying someone else. He deserved it because he’d brought it upon himself by pushing her away.
The kitchen crew was just finishing lunch service cleanup. He wished them all a happy weekend then cloistered himself in his office for the remainder of the afternoon. Just before five o’clock, he e-mailed his reports to Meredith, then gathered up all of his receipts and invoices in a folder.
Down in the corporate offices, the interior door that connected Corie’s office to Meredith’s was partially closed.
Corie looked up from her computer when he walked in. “She’s on the phone.”
Meredith’s laugh floated out through the narrow opening.
“I brought these for her. She said she wanted to take this stuff home to work on over the weekend.” He handed Corie the folder and tried to smile.
“I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“Thanks.” He couldn’t torture himself by standing here listening to the happy tone of her voice any longer. “Have a great weekend.”
“You, too.”
When he got to the parking garage, he realized he’d forgotten to bring jeans to change into. Oh well. The guys would just have to put up with him in his black-and-white checked pants and the limp New York City T-shirt he’d been wearing under his jacket all day. He pointed Kirby toward church and tried to keep his mind from returning to the ride with Meredith to the TV studio. The look on her face when he wouldn’t tell her why he’d had to disappear from the party last night...
A light drizzle started as Major pulled into the parking lot. He grabbed his folder of music and jogged in through the side door by the church offices.
George sat at the piano practicing the new piece they’d chosen to sing Sunday. He stopped, stood, and extended his hand. “Hullo.”
“Hey. I figured I’d be the last one here.”
“No. Forbes and Clay both called to say they’re running late.”
“Oh. Okay. That’s good, actually. I could use a few minutes’ downtime before we start singing.” Major tossed his folder into a chair and collapsed onto the floor, stretching out flat on his back.
“Nice pants,” George chuckled.
“Yeah, they’re all the rage in New York,” Major shot back. He did some of the stretches he’d learned in physical therapy after tearing his trapezius, ending his college football career. They almost always worked to ease the deep muscle spasms between his shoulder blades he’d been plagued with since then. Recently, though, nothing seemed to work. Every time he saw Meredith and the insane urge struck to tell her everything—about Ma, about his jealousy over Ward Breaux—he would clamp his mouth shut, his shoulders would tense, and the sharp pain would worsen.
He sat up and eyed George, who’d gone back to playing.
George must have sensed the scrutiny, because he looked up, and the music stopped. “What?”
Major hooked his arms around his bent knees. “I need to ask you something really personal. And if you don’t want to answer, I’ll understand.”
“Go on.” George turned to straddle the piano bench and leaned over to brace his elbows on his knees.
“When you met Anne and you couldn’t tell her the truth about who you were and whose wedding she was really planning, how did you handle it? How did you keep from just blurting out the whole truth?”
George registered no expression of surprise or offense—or any reaction at all—over the question. The man should be a professional poker player.
“I wanted to every day.” George rubbed his chin. “Many times I came close to slipping up and saying things that would have shattered my cover story. It was a wrench, I’ll tell you, especially once I started falling in love with her.”
Major could completely understand that. “But how did you make yourself keep the secret?”
“Because I was foolish enough to believe that the contract I signed was more important. But when I finally realized that it was not only wrong but would hurt Anne more the longer I waited to tell her, I gained permission to at least tell her I wasn’t the groom, just his stand-in.”
Major rocked back and forth. “So you wish you’d told her everything from the very beginning?”
“Of course.” George eyed Major speculatively. “Is there someone you’re keeping a secret from that’s vital to your relationship?”
Vital to their relationship? “No—yes. I guess so. It’s something about me—about my ... family that very few people in the world know. And I’ve kept it that way to protect myself from undue scrutiny and judgment.”
“But it’s something that will affect the person you want to have a relationship with?” Deep lines formed in George’s forehead when he raised his brows like that.
“Yeah—it could. It probably will.” Major collapsed down onto his back again, covering his eyes with his left arm.
“You must tell her, then. Even if you are not dating currently, putting off the telling of your secret will only serve to make it worse when the truth becomes known later.”
The choir room door swung open, and Forbes entered looking like Cary Grant or Gregory Peck in his dark gray, tailored suit and overcoat.
“Still waiting on Clay?” Forbes shook hands with George.
“I imagine he’ll be along shortly.” George turned back square to the keyboard and began playing again.
“In that case, Major, can I have a word with you? Privately.” Forbes motioned to the door leading into the men’s robe room.
Major nodded and followed, hoping this conversation wasn’t about what he was afraid it would be about. He leaned against the metal storage cabinet in the small room.
Forbes stood in the middle of the room and turned to face him, unbuttoning his suit coat. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have to tell Meredith about your mom.”
Yep. That was what he’d hoped this conversation wouldn’t be about. “What makes you say that?”