“Thanks.” She pulled the thin strap of her purse over her shoulder. “Well, I should go.”
“Yes.”
They stood facing each other for an awkward moment.
“The move going okay?”
“Yes, fine.”
She’d spent the better part of the previous evening unpacking the boxes the movers had brought, which had given her the perfect excuse to stay in her bedroom for the remainder of the night. Not that it had mattered. He’d left shortly before six and had not returned by the time she’d called it a night at ten o’clock. Where had he gone? For the first time she’d wondered if Stephen had a girlfriend. Rosaria had said Catherine wasn’t his usual type. What or who was?
She found herself in an odd sort of conundrum. She didn’t want to spend time alone with Stephen, and yet she liked even less the idea that he might be spending his time with someone else.
“I’m going to see my parents tonight. I have to tell them before a reporter calls for comment. I thought, if your schedule is clear, we could go over there this evening. That’s if you want to go with me.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to go alone.” He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his dark gray trousers and tilted his head to one side, looking oddly nervous. “How do you think they’ll take it?”
You’re a Danbury, she almost said. One Danbury would be as good as another to her mother. The connections, the social position, the prestige…the money.
“They’ll be a little surprised.” She offered a small smile.
He didn’t smile. “I’ll bet.”
“What time do you think you’ll be home?”
“Six.”
And she would be there, she realized, in his big, quiet home, waiting for him.
“We’ll just drop by my parents’ house for drinks. I won’t make you sit through an entire meal, I promise.”
He walked her to the door of his office, opened it and then stood there for a moment, leaning against the jamb. “I wouldn’t mind. They’re bound to have questions.”
Yes, Catherine thought. But she didn’t have answers. At least not ones they would like hearing.
“Drinks only.”
“Will you tell them about the codicil?” he asked.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so, but I just thought we should have our stories straight.”
As she boarded the elevator, and hit the button marked “lobby”, it saddened Catherine to realize that her parents would understand marriage as a business arrangement. After all, it was what they had. It was why they had thought her foolish for not marrying Derek even after his duplicity had been exposed. And not for the first time she wondered if the cool reserve for which she’d become well known was a byproduct of her parents’ cold union.
Stephen was not home when Catherine arrived at his house late that afternoon, but the movers had dropped off another batch of boxes. Last night she had been grateful to immerse herself in the tedious chore of unpacking and assigning other boxes to storage in Stephen’s attic. Now she was simply too tired to hunt through the boxes for the shoes she wanted to wear that evening.
Her cell phone rang as she contemplated where to start. She pulled it from her purse and sank onto her bed, grateful for the reprieve.
“Hello?”
“Cath, it’s Felicity. Where are you?”
“I’m…home,” she said, not quite ready to explain. She’d rather get it all over in one shot, which was why she’d asked Felicity, who still lived with their parents, to be sure to be there that evening.
“You’re not home. I dropped by your apartment to borrow your diamond choker and the doorman said you had moved out. What’s going on?”
Catherine sighed. “I’ll explain tonight at the house. It’s really not something I want to discuss over the phone.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Of course not.”
She was touched by her self-centered little sister’s concern until Felicity added, “That’s a relief. You’ve already upset everyone enough by calling off the wedding. And then we’ve had to endure the tabloid stories. Mother’s so embarrassed she hasn’t been to the club in weeks, and I can hardly go out of the house without being laughed at.”
“Yes, I know what a trial this has been for her, and for all of you,” she said, somehow managing to keep sarcasm out of her voice. Just once, she thought, it would be nice to have someone in her family worry about her feelings and be supportive of her decisions. Perhaps she would get her wish later that night. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around eight.”
She hung up, even less enthusiastic about spending the next couple of hours unpacking than she had been before, so she decided to stall a little longer.
In the kitchen, she took a glass from the cupboard and went to the fridge for some orange juice. She noticed the cake right away. It was a double-layer with chocolate frosting. Not quite half of it was missing. Stephen’s birthday cake. Much as it should have pleased her that he had had someone with whom he could celebrate, she couldn’t suppress the spurt of jealousy that that someone had not been her.
Catherine chose a beige linen pantsuit to wear to her parents’ house. Her mother would frown on the pants. Her mother often frowned, though, making pleasing her a virtual impossibility. Besides, Catherine figured by the time Deirdra Canton heard the word “married”, she wouldn’t be paying any mind to her daughter’s wardrobe. She heard Stephen coming up the stairs as she put on her earrings. Sticking her head out the door, she watched him jog up the last few steps and turn in the opposite direction.
“Hello.”
He turned, startled. “Hi.”
She was surprised, too. The neat executive was nowhere to be found. In his place stood a sweaty man in gray cotton shorts and a T-shirt, hair windblown and skin glowing from exertion.
“You’re ready.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not.”
“I heard the water running in your room when I got home. I figured I had time for a run and quick shower before you were ready. Most women…” He wisely let the thought go unfinished. “Give me fifteen minutes,” he said.
She allowed her gaze to roam over the damp T-shirt that seemed molded to his powerful build. The fantasy she’d entertained in his office that morning came back to her in a breath-stealing rush. “Take twenty.”
Catherine used the extra time to do some more unpacking, figuring the monotony would keep her mind off inappropriate thoughts. She had finally managed to reel in her pulse when, arms loaded with lingerie, she turned to find Stephen standing in her open doorway. His dark gaze lingered on the silky garments she clutched in her hands.
“I wondered…”
“Wondered what?” she asked, as she hastily stuffed the assorted unmentionables into the top drawer of the bureau without bothering to neatly fold and arrange them.
“I wondered…if this was appropriate attire for meeting the in-laws.”
He wore a lightweight sport coat, crisp white shirt and dark trousers. He’d forgone a tie, a definite no-no in her mother’s book.
“Perfect.”
The Cantons were already having drinks when Stephen and Catherine arrived. The economic downturn