A Match Made in Heaven?

Her eyelids felt heavy, her heart heavier.

She glanced at him from beneath her drooping lashes. Had he always been so remote, so mercenary? Had his boyish charm and good looks blinded her to his real character? After all, he had kept silent for a whole year and suddenly showed up on her wedding day to whisk her away. Had he thought marrying her would be his ticket to easy street—a quick fix from the pauper’s life?

“Why’d you never write?” She shook herself awake and forced the words between stiff lips.

“What?”

“When you were gone for that whole year.”

An exasperated sigh burst from him. “Why’re you coming out of left field like that, Sam?”

“Well?”

“After two years, you ask?”

“Yeah, I’m asking.” She focused on his chiseled profile, barely visible in the shadow of the cab. Maybe she was the one who’d changed.

In the year he’d been gone, she’d swabbed her pain by overdosing on lattes at the café on campus and in the process, found there was something beyond herself, beyond her heartache … God.

“Why?” The word shot from him like a bullet and ripped her thoughts apart.

“Things are about to change, it seems,” she blurted, her ire rising.

“Is that right?” He tossed her a covert glance and it was nearly imperceptible the way he did it without as much as taking his eyes off the road for even a split second.

Smooth. Real smooth.

She shrugged, dismissing the annoying buzz in her head.

“You didn’t answer me, Sam.”

“You didn’t answer me, Johnny.”

“Woman, you could drive a man to—”

“Oh, that explains it, then.” He was fueling her emotions big time. Brushing a hand across her brow, she pretended an outward calmness, which was a direct contrast to the fervent restlessness inside her.

“I wrote Sam.” A sigh rumbled deep in his chest, and she wondered what he was really thinking, feeling. “Hard copy, e-mails, text … the whole shebang. “Apparently, you didn’t want to write back.”

“What?”

“Mmm.”

“How can that be, Johnny?” she asked, her voice softening a fraction. “I didn’t hear anything from you, not a word.”

“I wrote, woman.”

“I didn’t get your letters.” A quiet moment, then, “Well, you could’ve called or something.”

He slapped his hand against his forehead. “Is there anything I do, I’ve done, that meets your standards, Sam?”

She didn’t answer, couldn’t. If she did, it would unleash an avalanche of bickering between them and she couldn’t handle that right now. Another curve in the road came and went before she glanced his way. His jaw was set, his gaze glued on the road. A multitude of thoughts and emotions jumbled inside her, resulting in confusion.

And a decision.

To find the truth. Did she dare? A peek his way. Yep, she’d do it.

A test.

To see if Johnny was the man she thought she married or an illusion. Sam muffled her dizzying notions. “Where’re we going?”

“To a cottage in a wood … er … close enough to that.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Johnny hoped she’d come to her senses by then, but of course, he didn’t utter the sentiment. “You wanted to be alone, to think …” he allowed his words to trail off, not voicing thoughts tearing his brain. Like whether you want to be married to me or not. He tightened his grip on the wheel and the metal ridges bit into his flesh.

“Yes, alone. Not with you.” Her voice faltered. “Not with anyone.”

Her words cut him to the raw. A muscle boxed his jaw. “You will be, but, I’ll be within shouting distance should you need me.”

“Because of the baby, you mean.”

“Of course, what else.”

Sam’s heart lurched, then hammered with a thousand minuscule mallets. Is that all she meant to him? Someone to have his child? Was he a gold digger? And since he hadn’t gotten his hands on her wealth, was he ready to ditch at the first opportunity? Fear clawed at her insides. Had her mother been right about him? Had he ever really loved her?

“After the baby comes?”

“You’re free to go,” he said, refraining from adding, if you want to.

“I see.” Her stomach dipped and her pulse skittered. She breathed in a mouthful of air and exhaled without a sound. In three months, Johnny, the man she married and the father of her child, could be rid of her, and he could hardly wait. She turned away from him and pressed her forehead to the window, the vibration of the truck a balm to her shattered nerves.

Johnny tightened his abs. She’d shut him out. Could she give up on him, on them, so quickly? At a word in a letter? Had she ever really loved him? A nerve hammered his cheek. Was she thinking of Michael Scott? She’d been friendly enough with him at the pad.

Well, the technicality threatening to nullify their union gave her the perfect opportunity to opt out. A groan throbbed in his throat, but he gulped it down.

He’d wanted to believe he could always count on her, but perhaps in the back of his mind he’d had misgivings. He had the means, yet he’d allowed them to rough it financially for a time.

A test.

To see if princess loved the pauper for himself or if she’d bolt at the first sign of hardship. In three months the baby was due. He’d have his answer then.

“Do you, Sam?”

“What?” She deigned to glance his way.

“See. See what is happening here. To us.”