“I don’t want a divorce.”
* * *
“Just give it a try?” Megan asked, sputtering at the insanity of Connor’s suggestion, casually tossed out as he’d perused an elaborate breakfast spread in the dining room. “You’re crazy.”
Glancing up from the coffee he’d stirred a generous portion of cream into, he grinned. “Exactly what you said last night. Of course, there’d been a whole lot of breathless ‘yes, please’ tied up in ‘you’re crazy’ then.”
Her eyes rolled skyward. She could only imagine the circumstances. Didn’t want to imagine them. But couldn’t seem to help it. In fact, every time her gaze touched on those criminally captivating lips...she started imagining all over again. Imagining, but not remembering.
“Last night I was forty percent alcohol by volume. Last night doesn’t count.”
Another shrug. “It counts to me. And if you’ll sit down and have something to eat, I’ll tell you why it counts to you too.”
Handing her the coffee, he nodded at the tray of pastries, fresh fruit, cheeses and breads he’d brought to the table. “Trust me on this, you want the food in your stomach first.”
Connor selected a croissant, set it, a tiny ceramic crock of butter and another of jam on a china plate with a silver knife, and pushed it in front of her. “Eat.”
She looked at it warily, not really wanting to eat anything at all after the way her morning had begun.
She was nervous. Frustrated. And more than a smidgen concerned about Connor’s apparent commitment to this monumental mistake.
He didn’t want a divorce. She didn’t get it. It didn’t make sense.
“You don’t know me,” she began with a slow shake of her head. “Even if I’d talked your ear off from the minute we met until my little pilgrimage to the porcelain god...you couldn’t really know me. My beliefs, my hang-ups, my shortcomings.”
Connor heaved a sigh and met her eyes. “I know you wanted a conventional family, and I know, while you’re friends with the men you date, you’ve never actually fallen in love. Same as me, that fairy-tale connection people go after like junkies looking for their next fix isn’t a part of your makeup. I know you’re tired of making yourself vulnerable again and again, hoping each time things will end differently. And I know you’ve figured out what you really want is a child, and you don’t need a husband to get one.”
Okay, so maybe he knew her a little.
Megan sat back in her chair, watching this virtual stranger reach for her plate, rip a corner off her croissant, butter it and, as though he hadn’t just relayed her deepest secret and greatest failures, hold it out in offering.
“Eat, while I clear a few things up between us.”
Tentatively she took the bite, letting the flakes of rich, buttery pastry dissolve on her tongue.
“For the record, I’ve been interested in settling down for some time. But contrary to what the evidence might suggest, marriage isn’t something I take lightly or would jump into without serious consideration.”
When she opened her mouth to call him on that last bit, he lifted a staying hand and went on.
“Marriage is the foundation of a family, and I want mine to be rock solid. I want the security—for my children, and really us both as well—of knowing it won’t crumble under some needy, emotional pique or the whims of a fickle heart. So I’ve been waiting for a woman with a specific sense of priority.”
His brow pulled down as he stared at the table and then looked back to her with a knowing expression. “And before you start thinking I was just some man on the make last night, out trawling for a wife, I wasn’t. I wasn’t looking for anything but the good time we were having. And then, it just hit me. You were the one.”
“The one.” There was a whole lot of weight in that statement. More than she’d expected to be shouldering through this weekend trip to Vegas.
“Yes. Now, let me tell you how much I respect your plan to prioritize your child over the instinct to find a mate.”
She gulped.
Wow, if she’d told him that, she’d really told him everything.
“It takes time to build a relationship. If you have a child, it’s time you’ll be taking away from him or her. And what if it gets serious?” he asked, buttering another small piece of croissant. “You introduce little Megan to this guy, but then it doesn’t work out. Now you aren’t the only one who’s let down. It’s your daughter or son, as well. Plus, there’s the whole post-breakup emotional slump to contend with. No picnic for a single mom, or the little person more in tune with her feelings than anyone else on the planet. That this isn’t the kind of emotional cycling you want your child to go through says a tremendous amount about you. And, like I said, I respect it.”
He’d spoken casually, seemingly at ease, and yet there was an intensity about him as he relayed this bit of perspective on her plan that implied a level of empathy beyond what she’d expect.
A part of her wanted to ask him about his past. About his parents. Things she wondered if they’d discussed the night before. Only, to do so would open more doors, and she was already confused enough without adding images of this powerful man as a vulnerable child to the mix.
Connor reached out to offer her the next bite and she caught his wrist in her hand. “I don’t understand. If you respect my plan so much, how did we end up married?”
Those dark eyes held with hers. “Because what I offered you was the best of both worlds without the risk of the worst.”
“How?”
“Simple. This thing between us, Megan. It’s not about love.”
Her chin pulled back as she absorbed the words. Felt them wash through her with the same kind of phantom familiarity she’d been experiencing on and off with Connor since she’d woken in his bed. Only, this time, something about it wasn’t entirely comforting. Almost like a piece of the puzzle that was her missing experience had been put into place sideways and didn’t quite fit.
Maybe it simply wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, though why not, she didn’t know. Surely she hadn’t believed this man who married her within hours of their meeting had fallen in love with her. Talk about crazy. Still, somehow hearing him say it left her feeling...confused.
So she asked, “If it’s not about love, then what?”
Connor gave her a satisfied grin. “All the vital components that make a relationship successful, without any of the emotional messiness to drag it down. It’s about respect, caring and commitment. Shared goals and compatible priorities. It’s about treating a marriage like a partnership instead of some romantic fantasy. It’s about two people liking each other.”
Liking each other. What this man was suggesting was what she’d had in most every relationship she’d attempted. With one major difference. In those relationships, neither she nor the man she’d been dating believed it was enough. Whereas with Connor... “So, you’re saying it’s about expectations. If we limit them, no one’s disappointed.”
“Embrace them,” he corrected, “because they work for us.”
She nodded, saying the words slowly. “A partnership.”
Of course, this man wouldn’t want anything more from her.
He frowned as he met her eyes. “I’m not talking about some relationship without any caring. I’m talking about improving on friendship. Without turning it into something neither of us is capable of delivering on.”
“If what you’re looking for is a friend, surely, Connor, you must have hundreds to choose from. Women you