Marrying the Wrong Man (15 page)

“Babe.” Justin sidled up beside his wife. “I have to call Will.” He planted a kiss on Alice’s temple. “Goodnight, Morgan.” And then he disappeared down the hall.

Uncle Justin.
That was so much easier to swallow than
husband
would’ve been.

Morgan glanced at Charlotte and smiled. Her baby’s extended family was fraught with drama, but at least this side hadn’t ended up in jail.

“She was really good—ate all her dinner.” Alice said. “Well, she ate what she didn’t feed to Mouse. But trust me, he wasn’t complaining.”

“Thank you.”

“I did it for Charlie.”

A chill picked at Morgan’s skin. There it was again—that response that had Morgan looking for the double meaning. “Alice, you are Charlotte’s aunt, and I don’t want bad blood between us. I’m happy you got to spend time with her tonight. And, I’m happy for you and Justin. I really am.”

“You think my concerns are about your connection to Justin?” She shook her head. “No. That’s ancient history. My concerns are about your connection to Charlie. That’s his past, present, and future now that you have a daughter together. You’ve always wreaked havoc on his life.”

Morgan tensed. Charlie was a grown man. He didn’t need his baby sister protecting him. “All I want is for Charlotte to know and love her daddy. And really, how that happens is none of your concern. Charlie and I can manage the details of raising our daughter.” She bent to pick up her little girl.

“I’m worried he’s drinking again.”

He couldn’t be. Sure, she’d had similar thoughts once or twice since she’d been back, but she’d been spending at least six hours a day, five days a week with him, and she hadn’t so much as caught a whiff of liquor or heard the slightest slur. “Why would you say that?” She straightened and glared at Alice.

“He’s under a lot of stress between the bistro … and you. I caught him at the house holding a shot of whiskey.”

Morgan gasped.
No!
The last thing she ever wanted to do was push Charlie to drink again. “When?”

“Right after you showed up. He said he wasn’t going to drink it, but still … ”

“He came close.” Her stomach pushed into her throat. How many times had he come close again since she’d been here?

“I have no idea what’s happening when I’m not there. So, you see? Your history with my husband is the least of my worries. I love my niece, but she’s a package deal with you. And as long as you’re around, my brother is at risk.”

Damn it.
She didn’t want to believe that was true. But wasn’t that exactly why she hadn’t contacted him when she’d decided to keep the baby? She’d refused to be the reason he started drinking again.

“Mama?” A bleary-eyed Charlotte stirred and sat up. Turning away from Alice, Morgan scooped Charlotte into her arms. “Mommy’s here, baby girl.” Her voice was shaking. “Thank you for watching her.”

It wouldn’t happen again. Morgan was getting out of Harmony Falls, before she destroyed Charlie for good.

Charlie snapped the cover on the bowl of lentil tabouli and set it aside. He glanced at the clock. Tonight, Morgan was truly late for work—and unfortunately not because she was pressed against his office door.

Service started in a half hour.

“Hey, Corbin, can you try calling Phyllis’s house again?”

Charlie needed to keep his mind on the food. He had his first fully booked service since the bistro opened, and a waiter-in-training to boot. He’d be damn ecstatic if he had a hostess and three wait staff, covering a full house.

“Still no answer,” Corbin said as he hung up the phone and wrapped an apron around his waist. “I’ll try her again after I set up the water glasses.”

An image of Alice popped into Charlie’s head, bearing a grin and a message:
She’s a runner.

“Shut up.” He unleashed his frustration with a mallet on some duck breast.

Morgan’s appearance a few minutes later startled him. She blew into the kitchen and reached for her apron.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I … wanted to make sure dinner was cooked and everything was settled before I left. Aunt Phyllis still isn’t feeling one-hundred percent, and Charlotte was a bit cranky.” She didn’t look at him.

“Alice could’ve watched her again.”

Morgan’s entire body jerked as she yanked the strings of the apron around her waist. “No need.”

She damn near sprinted into the dining room.

Huh.
Charlie stared at the empty space where Morgan had been standing. What the hell was that?
That
was completely opposite from the way last night had started.

He wielded the mallet with such enthusiasm the metal prep space shook.

Alice had sworn to him everything went well between them, but something wasn’t right with Morgan. He’d have to pull it out of her later on, when the evening calmed down.

Unfortunately, that didn’t look like it was going to happen until after closing.

Charlie’s first clue that trouble was brewing in the dining room came from Corbin. “Your presence is requested at table three.” He huffed. “The new kid told a lady that he’d check with you about vegan options. I told him—and then I told her—there were no vegan options or substitutions. She claims that policy discriminates against her spiritual beliefs. She’d like to talk to you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Afraid not. Table three.”

The new kid better be able to tolerate yelling.

Fortunately, by the time Charlie made it out to the dining room, the herbivore had hightailed it outta there. He wasn’t complaining. He’d rather lose a table that didn’t understand his food than compromise a dish so someone would stay.

But before he could settle into a rhythm again, Corbin had returned. “Is there a full moon, Chef?”

Charlie laughed, but he didn’t feel happy. “I have no idea. Why?”

“Now, there’s some old bat giving Morgan a hard time at table eight. I offered to switch tables with her, but she said not to make it a big deal.”

Charlie closed his eyes, but quickly refocused on the plate he’d been garnishing. “Then don’t make it a big deal.”
And I won’t either.

A few minutes later, Morgan stepped into the kitchen to fill her tray.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

“Fine.”

How did she get the word past those clenched teeth?

A groan rumbled in his chest.
Don’t do it. Do not follow her into that dining room.
He finally had a full house and a damn-near full wait staff.

But when he heard the sound of breaking glass, he had no choice.

“You are a clumsy fool.” The shrill female voice made him wince.

Morgan dropped to the floor amid pieces of broken plates, and that gave Charlie a chance to see who’d made the insult: Pamela Boardman, Margaret’s good friend.

Shit.
Everyone was gawking and pointing at the scene of the crime. Charlie walked across the dining room to squat beside Morgan and pick up shards of porcelain. “Accidents happen.”

“Go,” she whispered. He would’ve missed her plea had he so much as exhaled.

Pamela stomped her feet inches from Charlie’s hand. “All you have to say for your establishment and its wait staff is ‘accidents happen’? Your judgment is no better sober.”

Charlie pinched a piece of glass hard enough to draw blood. What a bitch. He glared at the prune-faced woman.

But she didn’t back down. “Why is a Parrish even working here? A month ago, her father was arrested, and just today they doubled the charges against him, arrested her uncle, and launched an investigation against her mother. It’s incredulous that you’re still letting her work here. She’s as corrupt as the rest of them. You mark my word. They’ll arrest her next.”

Morgan dropped the plate she’d been holding and scrambled off to the kitchen.

Pamela looked down her nose at Charlie. “That woman should be fired and forced to pay for my food, and Margaret should shut you down.”

He fisted his hands. After this, Margaret probably would shut him down. Might as well go out with a bang. “Mrs. Boardman … ” he stood, “Morgan doesn’t need to pay for your food, because you’re not getting any. If you were the last hungry mouth on earth, I’d let you starve.”

Gasps sounded around him. He was surprised he could hear them over his raging heartbeat. “New Kid … ” he snapped his fingers, “grab a broom and clean up that mess. Corbin, show these people out. We’re closed. They can try the Main Street Diner.”

He sure as hell didn’t feel like cooking. And that was a first.

Storming into the kitchen, he looked for Morgan, but she was gone.

Blood throbbed in his neck veins, and his vision blurred. She probably went home. He wished she hadn’t left before he could calm her down.

He grabbed his keys off the hook inside his office door.

“Charlie, maybe I could cook for everyone?” Corbin stood in the hallway. “The new kid can wait tables, and Hannah can keep hostessing.”

“I don’t care what you do.”

Right now, the only thing Charlie cared about was finding Morgan.

• • •

Morgan stared in horror at the newspaper she had spread out over the steering wheel. Everything that awful woman said was true. There were new charges against her father. They’d finally found Uncle Harold. But not her mother. As a result, a warrant had been issued for her arrest.

Her entire family was going to be in jail before this investigation was through. Morgan would have to spend God only knew how many years explaining to Charlotte why grandma and grandpa’s Christmas cards came postmarked from a federal prison.

She smashed up the newspaper and tossed it into the backseat.

What was Johnson Berger going to think of this? The interview with him and his human resources manager had gone so well this afternoon that it ran an hour over and made her late for work. She was sure she’d get the job.
Well forget that.
They were probably watching the evening news right now, making the connection between the felonious Parrishes and their top candidate’s last name.

On a squeal of tires, she left the gas station parking lot. Barreling up Main Street, she passed her old house. It looked so damned perfect on the outside—just like her family had looked. Too bad nobody knew the truth about what had been happening behind closed doors until it was too late.

Pamela’s words resounded.
You mark my words. They’ll arrest her next.

Morgan choked on the saliva pooling in her mouth. She couldn’t be arrested for something she didn’t do, could she? She’d already talked to the authorities when her father was first arrested. They’d never pursued her again.

But what if they did? The prison system was filled with innocent people.
Oh, God.
What would happen to Charlotte? At least she’d have Charlie. And Aunt Phyllis, too. Suddenly, coming back to Harmony Falls didn’t seem so bad.

Morgan swiped the back of her hand across her dripping nose and floored the gas pedal, heading up the hill and out of town toward Aunt Phyllis’s house. The daytime running lights glistened on the wet street. She needed to get to Charlotte.

As long as she had her baby girl, everything would be fine.

The road straightened out, but she didn’t reduce her speed. When she glanced at the speedometer, it registered seventy-five. In a thirty-five-mile-per-hour zone.
Don’t be stupid.

She eased up on the gas pedal and refocused on the road just in time for a deer to dart into her path.

“Shit!” Squeezing the steering wheel, she yanked it hard to the left. Thank God, she missed it.

But there was nothing she could do about the tree.

• • •

About a mile outside of town, Charlie came upon Morgan’s mangled car. The passenger side door was crushed against a tree trunk.

His heart rate exploded in an uneven beat.
Holy shit!
Was she hurt?

“Morgan!” He yelled before he was even out of the car.

In a dead sprint, he reached the driver’s side. The air bags had deployed, and the passenger window glass scattered over the seats, but Morgan wasn’t there.

He took a moment to let that sink in. She’d walked away. That was good.

The longer he sat with that, the more his breathing evened. And when he finally looked up over the roof of the car, she was coming toward him.

“Jesus! Are you okay?” He ran to her.

“I swerved to miss a deer.” Her upper lip was fat and bleeding, and a bright red split slashed across her cheek. “I hit the tree instead. I probably would’ve been better off hitting the deer.” She wiped at a tear and winced.

Relief yanked a laugh from his chest. “Don’t touch your face.” He grabbed her hands and inspected them for damage. “You could have slivers of glass anywhere.”

Her shoulders sagged, and the tears poured. “My car is totaled.”

“Better the car than you.” He pulled her gently against him.

Her fingers dug into his biceps. “I was just so upset. She said … I thought … I didn’t know what to do. So I ran.”

He smoothed her hair. “Yeah, you’re good at that.” Normally, that would’ve pissed the hell out of him. Right now, he just wanted to hold her.

“I need to see Charlotte. I don’t want to lose her.”

“You’re not going to lose her. Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll take you to her, but first we need to get you checked out and this mess cleaned up.”

While Morgan used his phone to call Aunt Phyllis, the police, and her insurance company—in that order—Charlie took another look at the car. If the driver side had taken the direct hit, she would’ve never walked away.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and bent down to pick up a sippy cup that had been thrown out the broken window. What if Charlotte had been in the car?

Tears burned his eyes.

When he turned his head to survey the fender damage, he saw a beer can glistening in the setting sun. Stupid kids. He used to toss his empties out the window on this stretch of road, too. Now, he couldn’t imagine being so careless.

He had way too much to lose.

Standing with the sippy cup in hand, he opened the back door to retrieve the booster seat and anything else Morgan might need before the car was towed. An unopened six-pack, sans one can, littered the floor behind the passenger seat.