The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(59)

“It’s an unconventional idea,” Val corrects. “Not terrible. It would help Lindy’s case, and I think she would do anything for Jo. Just like we would in her position.”

Hearing them go back and forth like I’m not here is oddly validating. Mostly because I’ve been having the same arguments in my own head.

“Plus,” Val continues, “we all know Lindy still has feelings for Pat.”

I hold up a hand. “Wait—we do?”

They ignore me.

“It’s too complicated,” Winnie insists. “The motives are mixed. Are they getting married to help Lindy keep Jo? Or because they want to get married?”

Val shrugs. “Why not both?”

The two of them finally remember I’m here. “Forget our thoughts,” Winnie says. “This is your decision, Lindy. Think fast: do you want to marry Pat?”

“No.” The answer is like a reflex, a leg twitch after being hit in the knee with the doctor’s tiny mallet. But it’s not the truth, or at least not the full truth. It’s more like what I think I should say. “And yes.”

I cover my face with my hands. Val squeals, and Winnie sighs. The feral cat purrs her approval loudly.

“Even if part of me wants to, marriage is huge. It’s marriage. And Pat … really hurt me.” I swallow and look down, picking at the hem of my jeans. “He apologized, and he seems sincere about all this. But I don’t know if I trust him not to hurt me again. And even though this would be to help Jo, if he left, it would be hurting her too.”

“Do you really think he’d do that?” Val asks.

I shrug. “He’s the kind of guy who jumps from thing to thing to thing.”

And from woman to woman, I don’t add. I still can’t shut out the images of all those photos I saw on the gossip sites of Pat, my Pat, smiling and laughing with other women. He jumped into a marriage once already, then jumped out almost as fast. These thoughts make my stomach turn over.

“You’re scared because you’re still in love with him.” Winnie’s voice is dry, but surprisingly free from disapproval.

I’m already shaking my head. Another reflex. I’m full of reflexes tonight. Why does it seem like they’re all doing the opposite of what they should?

“No, I’m—”

“Sorry, chica,” Val interrupts. “It’s true. You never got over him. And it seems clear he isn’t over you. I mean, that whole jealousy thing when he was in that cell?” Val fans her face. “So hot.”

“So very caveman. Typical male.” Winnie rolls her eyes.

“Exactly,” Val says with a sigh. “I want someone to go caveman over me.”

I try to picture Chevy growling in jealousy over Val and … I just can’t. Not for the first time, I wish she could find someone who could end the curse of her unrequited crush.

“I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this,” Winnie says, “but you could marry Pat for Jo’s sake, while knowing you hope for more. See what develops. Hope for the best. Insert other optimistic catchphrases here.”

I can’t believe Winnie is the one saying this either. And what’s more—I can’t believe I’m actually considering it, even long after Winnie and Val have gone home.

Before I head up to bed, I open Jo’s door and watch her sleeping, her brown hair a mess on the pillow. I used to do this more often, especially in the early days, tip-toeing in her room to make sure she was still breathing. I count her breaths for a few minutes, letting calm wash over me in the dim moonlight.

If the court grants Rachel custody, it will mean a new life in a new place. Jo will move to Austin. She’ll have a new house. A new room. A new school. Rachel and her husband as her primary caregivers. Even in my mind, I can’t think of calling them parents.

What if he’s not a nice man? What if he’s abusive? Or just doesn’t care about Jo?

Will Rachel understand Jo’s uniqueness? Will she encourage her reading? Will they laugh? Will Rachel give Jo affection? Attention? Love?

That last one trips me up, and I realize I’m clutching Jo’s covers in tight fists. The only thing Rachel ever loved was herself.

I let go of the covers and flex my stiff fingers. Still watching Jo, I pull out my phone and open the text thread from earlier when Pat asked me to dinner. I haven’t even added him as a contact in my phone yet, but I’m about to say yes to a marriage proposal.

For Jo.

Before I can change my mind, I tap out a completely unromantic answer to Pat’s completely unromantic proposal: Fine. I’ll marry you. But only for Jo. Don’t get any ideas.

His answer comes back almost immediately and sends a whole-body shiver through me: I hear you, and I respect you, but as for ideas—too late. I’ve already got PLENTY. I’ll call you tomorrow, fiancée.

When I finally fall asleep, it’s with a smile on my face and a thin thread of worry weaving through my gut.





Chapter Eighteen





Pat





When I imagined my wedding day—and yes, despite what people might think, some guys picture their wedding day—I wasn’t wearing an ankle monitor under my suit. The ceremony also didn’t take place in a courtroom whose décor was last updated in the 1970s. The people watching were considered guests not witnesses, and we had a string quartet instead of the bailiff humming a Blake Shelton song under his breath.