Abby Gaines – The Groom Came Back (страница 9)

Oh, heck. Callie dragged air into her suddenly constricted lungs. She’d known her lie would come out, but she’d rather it wasn’t right after she’d been goading Jack. Was there any chance Sam wouldn’t expose her?

The lawyer’s shaggy eyebrows shot up. She was dead in the water.

“That’s not right,” Sam said. “As long as you have grounds, which it seems you do on several counts, and as long as one of you has been resident in Marquette County the past six months—” he looked at Callie, who reluctantly nodded “—and you’ve lived apart for a continuous period of two or more years without cohabiting as man and wife during that period…” He took a breath as he finished the spiel, then sealed Callie’s fate. “You can file the papers tomorrow.” He spread his hands. “Your divorce will be through in sixty days.”

“You mean,” Jack said slowly. “I have to stay for sixty days from when we file?”

Sam shook his head. “You don’t need to stay—in fact, you don’t have to be here at all. Callie can file for the divorce.”

Callie sucked in her cheeks and tried to appear surprised.

But Dr. Megabrain, who more often than not talked to her as if she had a whole bunch of screws missing, didn’t consider for one second that she might have misunderstood the Tennessee Code.

He twisted on the couch. Anger darkened his eyes to gunmetal, and he aimed an accusing finger at her jugular. “You lied to me.”

Chapter Four

“YOU’D ALREADY DECIDED to come home.” Callie tried out the smooth, crazy-patient voice and was delighted to see it riled him every bit as much as it did her. “I just exaggerated the length of time you’d need to be here.”

Sam tutted.

Jack snapped his teeth shut. “I came back because I wanted to make sure you were okay, like I promised your mom. You had no right to turn this into your agenda.”

But Callie was done feeling guilty. She wasn’t the one neglecting the two most wonderful parents in the world. She jabbed a finger right back at him. “If I hadn’t said you needed to be here a month, you’d have flown in, checked up on me, spent two days with your parents, then left again.”

The flicker in his eyes told her she was right. But her satisfaction was short-lived, shriveling in the heat of his rising fury.

“What will it take for you to understand that I’m not in England because I think it’s more fun than Parkvale? There are people, patients—kids—whose lives depend on me.” He jerked to his feet as if he could no longer bear to share the expanse of leather with her. “Okay, so sometimes that means I have less time available for my family. But other families—my patients’ families—would say it’s a sacrifice worth making. Who gave you the right to interfere?”

She couldn’t believe he hadn’t figured that out yet. “You gave me the right, you pompous, egotistical…neurosurgeon! You left me here to take your place, comforting your parents after Lucy died—don’t you dare deny it,” she ordered, as he opened his mouth.

Of course he ignored her. “You’re twisting the truth,” he barked. “I didn’t want my mom and dad to lose you so soon after Lucy.”

“You were worried your mom would pressure you not to go to Oxford. If I was there in your place, you could leave the country and forget Dan and Brenda.”

“I knew Mom would be happier about me leaving if you—”

“You used me so you could quit your family when your parents needed you most,” she retorted. “Don’t try and tell me your years in England have been any kind of sacrifice. You wanted out, and you got it.”

“That’s not true,” he roared down at her.

She slapped the arm of the couch in frustration, then stood in a futile attempt to level the playing field. Everything about him was bigger, stronger, more powerful than she was. “You don’t visit, you hardly ever phone. Sure, you play the generous son and fly your parents to see you every so often, but you barely take a day off work to be with them.”

He paled, and she momentarily regretted letting slip the nearest thing to criticism Brenda had said about her son. Callie shored up her flagging defenses. “You don’t bother to read the e-mails that might give you a clue what’s going on here.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Perhaps the mediation I mentioned earlier…” he began.

Jack ignored the lawyer.

“I see the important stuff,” he said dismissively.

She snapped her fingers. “I don’t mean things like your dad’s blood pressure spikes—”

“Since when does Dad have high blood pressure?”

“His doctor deals with that,” she said. She’d obviously been too subtle in her e-mails. “I’m talking about your mom’s midlife crisis, and your parents’ marriage breakdown.”

He gaped. “Mom’s not having a midlife crisis. She’s not the type.”

Okay, could somebody hand her a sledgehammer?

“And Mom and Dad’s marriage is not breaking down,” he added. “I haven’t seen anything beyond normal tension—” the word she’d used in her e-mails “—between them.”

“You don’t want to see, in case it complicates your Very Important Life.”

“That’s garbage. I’ll talk to Dad about his blood pressure, but beyond that…”

“This isn’t an extended house call,” she said, beyond frustrated. “It’s your family. Look deeper, Jack.”

He turned away abruptly, rejecting everything she’d said.

“You’ve changed,” she accused. “You used to be so kind, so caring.”

“You used to be so quiet,” he retorted.

Just like that, Callie ran out of steam. She sagged onto the couch, back against the cushions, breathing hard.

“Those grounds for divorce,” Sam mused in his gravelly voice, “I’m thinking irreconcilable differences.”

FROM THE WAY JACK STRODE out of the Magills’ house, Callie half expected him to jump in the Jaguar and roar off without her.

With his long legs, he could have beaten her to the car easily. But when he hit the steps, he stopped. The porch light threw the planes of his cheeks into sharp relief, illuminated a slow, satisfied smile. What was that about?

He continued down the wide steps. By the time he reached the bottom, Callie was right beside him. She discerned a spring in his step and…was he whistling under his breath?

Deeply suspicious—even more so when he held the car door open for her with a slight bow—she slid into her seat.

After about a mile of driving in silence, broken only by the sound of Callie’s stomach growling—she had said all she could without losing her temper, and Jack was preoccupied—he pulled into the parking lot of a Happy Burgers restaurant. He positioned the Jaguar precisely between a Ford Bronco and a Toyota Corolla, and buzzed his window closed. “You’re hungry, let’s eat.”

Typical. He was deciding once again what was wrong with her and what she should do about it.

“Didn’t they teach you in medical school that junk food is bad for you?” Callie’s stomach growled again. She pressed a hand to her middle.

“I don’t want to listen to that all the way back,” he said, and got out of the car.

“I hope you’re good at treating indigestion,” she called as she stomped across the lot behind him.

Inside, Jack ordered a large fries and two giant burgers for himself plus a Coke to wash them down. Callie had planned on ordering a salad, but the smell of grease and carbs seduced her into a cheeseburger and fries. And a caramel sundae—that plastic-tasting sticky sauce was irresistible.

“This’ll probably kill me,” she grumbled as they sat down.

“I can only hope,” he said cheerfully. He nudged her tray farther onto the molded plastic table, which hadn’t been wiped since the last customer.

Callie refused to put her food on the table, but Jack reached around to deposit his tray on the waste station behind him. He set his burger down, heedless of marauding bacteria, and ignored Callie as he unwrapped his food. He looked happier than he had since he’d arrived in Parkvale, which made no sense.

“That meeting was a total disaster.” She sucked the salt off a French fry. “Sam must think we’re psychos.”

Jack chomped a mouthful of burger. “He thought you were a psycho, for sure. I think he recognized a fellow professional in me.”

“By the way you threatened to kill me?”

He grinned. Now she was seriously worried.

“I’m still thinking about claiming you’re impotent,” she said, trying to bait him.

He regarded her blandly. “You do what you have to.”

Callie had the horrible sense that her chances of convincing him to help his parents were slithering away. She tried a new tack. “Jack, I’m sorry I exaggerated—”

“Lied.”

“—about how long you need to be here.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s just that I care a lot about your folks, so I…” She stopped, burger halfway to her mouth. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”