Bombshell

“Well, I’m sure she’s fine,” said the owner of the diner. She’d come out of nowhere and shoved Holly aside so she could personally tend to one of the town’s most popular and affluent men. “Did you have another squabble? Maybe she’s giving you the cold treatment, and staying with a friend.”

Everyone knew that his wife was a sex addict, and no one understood why Sam put up with her.

“Florence doesn’t have any friends,” he said flatly. He handed the menu back to Holly’s boss. “I can’t think, you decide.”

“Fish and chips,” her boss yelled to the kitchen. “Holly, get him a glass of water, some clam chowder and a side of bread with butter. Hurry up, now.”

Chapter Seventeen

The next morning, Merrick looked out the window as the company helicopter carried them along the coast to Atlantic City. He looked at the woman sitting in the seat beside him, and his jaw clenched as he chided himself again for being a total asshole. He’d known the minute he had seen her coming down the steps last night at dinner that she was clearly mad at him.

And even though she looked like a million bucks in whatever outfit Joann had found for her at the department store in Linton, she was as distant during the entire flight as she had been at dinner the night before. Even Tony, who was usually the life of any party, had picked up on her mood, and the three of them barely spoke a word as they made their way over the mountains to the coast.

Merrick thought about the previous day and his biggest regret. He never should have touched her. He never should have made love to her. He wanted to reset the clock. To go back to that moment when she’d asked him to pull out the razor from the tub. “No, sorry, sweetheart. You’re on your own, can’t help you,” is what he should have said. It didn’t matter that she was trying to seduce him, because she was only doing it because she believed his lie. Believed the story that they were engaged. She was only trying to seduce him because she thought they were in love. And he had let her. Guilt stabbed at his stomach again.

Even now he couldn’t decide what to say to her. He wanted to fix everything. Tell her the truth about everything. Start from scratch and hope for the best. He wanted to make things right.

He’d at least managed to sleep in the room across the hall from her. He’d expected her to question that move, to protest about how ‘silly’ it was to have a fiancé sleeping in a different bed. But she didn’t. Clearly she was done with him. Even though she hadn’t argued about coming to Atlantic City. Then again, why would she? It was, after all, the only life she knew, the only place she had to go.

When the helicopter landed, Tony woke up, and Merrick tapped Bombshell gently on her leg. “We’re here, sweetheart.”

Bombshell’s jerked and her eyes flew open. “What?” She looked around, confused.

“We’re home,” he said, the words cracking in his mouth. He was lying to her again.

She let out a breath, and her shoulders dropped.

Merrick got out first. “Watch out,” he said, jabbing a finger up at the still-rotating blades as he helped her step down onto unsteady legs and hurried her away from the helicopter.

Tony was pulling out the luggage. “Don’t mind me, go ahead—I’ll bring the goods,” he yelled.

Merrick nodded and opened the door to get off the roof and into some shelter. Even without a helicopter, the roof was windy and chilly.

When they got inside, Bombshell stopped and freed herself from Merrick’s supporting hand.

“Merrick,” she said, gasping a little as she spoke. “I think I remember something about the old me.”

An invisible hand punched Merrick in the gut. She was going to tell him that she remembered who she was, and that she knew he was lying about everything. That’s why she wouldn’t talk to him on the helicopter. She had been saving her confrontation for a less noisy environment.

He couldn’t look her in the eye. He studied the fire escape sign posted to the door. He braced himself and inhaled, holding his breath.

“Well, not exactly a memory—but an understanding about the old me. I must have a fear of flying or something, because being up in that machine freaked me out. You have no idea how relieved I am to be walking on solid ground.”

What? Merrick let out his breath. He couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t mad at him. She was smiling at him. Happy, relieved, ecstatic apparently just to be on solid ground. Hope bloomed in his heart, and before he could stop himself, he pulled her into a hug. “Well, no more flying for a few more days, then, alright?”

She nodded happily then nestled against him, tucking her head against his shoulder. He held her close and breathed in her scent, then released her. “Come on. I need to get you downstairs.”

When they stepped into the service elevator which only went down one level to a hallway that they could take to the main bay of elevators, Bombshell rested against the wall and gripped at the rails, suddenly tired.

He rushed to her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m really sleepy, Merrick. Are we going to our room? I sure could use a nap.”

Merrick didn’t answer right away. He had to think about his. Our room? Of course, she’d think that. Why wouldn’t she. They were engaged, allegedly. But, he’d already decided that he couldn’t risk another repeat of yesterday – by sleeping anywhere near her. At least not until she’d had a chance to see a few doctors, and maybe he’d summoned up the courage to tell her the truth about everything. Until then, he didn’t mind living with the farce—but he wouldn’t allow himself to take advantage of her physically again. The next time they made love—if there was a next time—it would be under full disclosure, and she’d be in her right mind.

“Merrick?” She was waiting for a response.

“Uh,” he said, still not sure what to say, he opened his mouth to say, something. The door pinged open, giving him another moment’s reprieve.