She sat in the passenger seat of his BMW feeling numb and overwhelmed and tired and faintly queasy. They were driving upstate. To a resort. For a honeymoon.
Both Grey and Maggie had protested, tried to get out of it, but his parents had insisted. “It’s already paid for! I’ve made all the arrangements! Let us do this for you, let this be a wedding gift!” His mother had gushed with such joy, such enthusiasm that both of them had crumbled. Grey had finally smiled and kissed her on the cheek and thanked her. Shook his father’s hand and solemnly thanked him too.
Then she’d had to say goodbye to her father, without a moment alone to speak with him privately, because Mrs. Delaney insisted they hit the road right then in order to arrive in time to see the spectacular sunset view from their honeymoon suite. Maggie didn’t want anything to do with that honeymoon suite but she’d smiled and feigned blushing enthusiasm. Grey remained fairly stoic in the face of all the romantic innuendo and she thought he kept sparing sideways glances at her father.
“I’ll be back soon Papa.” She told him as she hugged him goodbye. “Just a week. I’m so sorry, I know you’ll have to cover my shifts—“
“Goodbye Magdalena.” He’d cut her off gently. “Try to enjoy yourself.” He said. “The restaurant and the wine store and school and your family will be here in a week.” He joked lightly.
He was smiling but he seemed very, very saddened. It made her chest ache to know that she’d done this to him. “Oh, Papa—“ She gasped, “Essie! I won’t have a chance to see her before I go--”
He cupped her cheek in his rough palm affectionately. “I will tell your sister when she gets home from school. You can call her tonight.”
Maggie had nodded, in acquiescence, but she felt terribly guilty. She knew he didn’t support this marriage, not until it was performed before a priest, and now he was being somewhat strong-armed--by the delicate arms of Velvet Delaney—into letting his daughter go off for a week with a young man who may have been her husband by law, but not in the eyes of the church. “I will talk to Father Ruiz as soon as I’m back.” She promised in an urgent whisper.
“I will speak to him this afternoon.” Her father replied darkly. “Buena suerta, Hija.” He said gruffly. “Sea feliz y sea segura.” He looked grimly toward Grey, who was accepting another adoring kiss on his cheek from his mother. “I hope you know what you’re up against.” He added, and Maggie couldn’t be sure if he intended the comment for herself or for Grey.
“Goodbye!” Grey’s mother had called after them as they rushed through the rain to the car. “And we’ll take care of everything while you’re gone!” And she’d waved that perfectly manicured little hand and squeezed her husband’s suit sleeve and looked for all the world like she might float away on bubbles of joy.
The mood inside the BMW was quite the opposite. They’d been to the wine shoppe so she could ask for time off, they’d been to her home so she could pack a bag and they’d been to his apartment so he could do the same. All of which had been done with stiff civility and barely concealed detestation.
Maggie figured Grey had been polite and respectful for such a long period of time that he was about due for some time to brood. To her enormous relief he’d been a gentleman to her father, and even been cordial to his Uncle Nolan at the wine store. She hated Grey, but she couldn’t have been more grateful for how he’d handled himself today. She wanted to thank him, felt guilty that she had not yet done so, but everytime she peeked over at his profile as he drove them upstate she lost her nerve to speak. He looked so dark and brooding and violent.
The first time she spoke to him after leaving the Cedar Falls city limits was about two hours into the drive, and that was only because of an unavoidable imperative.
“Can we stop?” She’d finally said, after sitting in near agony for the better part of a half-hour.
He seemed almost startled by her voice, as if he’d succeeded in forgetting she was in the car with him. “Why?”
She bit her lip and breathed out slowly. “I need to use the bathroom.” She admitted, feeling a furious blush bloom all over her body. She couldn’t care, she had to go.
He didn’t say anything for a minute. “There’s an exit in two miles.”
She thanked him. The silence in the car seemed heavier, now that it had been breached, and the pressure to say something else nagged and pushed at her.
“Your mother is very sweet.” She said, deciding to give into the urge to chat and also try to take her mid off her bladder.
Grey looked at her for a moment and then returned his eyes to the road. “She is.” He agreed.
Maggie breathed. “Your father is too.” She added. “He was so kind to me today.”
“Let’s not do this.” Grey said coldly.
“I—“ Maggie didn’t know what to say.
“Let’s not play this ‘getting to know you’ game.” He elaborated. Maggie thought he pushed the car a little faster and held her breath as he switched highway lanes without bothering to use his directional or even really spare a glance around him.
“I was just trying to make conversation.” She said honestly.
“How terribly polite of you.” He mocked. “Tell me then, as long as we’re making conversation, did you really intend to have me arrested on rape charges, or were you bluffing?”
Her mouth fell open.
“Oh, I’m so sorry—“ He said, looking at her with an expression of mock-sincerity “Is that one of those awkward conversation starters? I’m hopeless when it comes to these social graces.” The edge on his tone went right through her.
“I wasn’t bluffing.” She answered him plainly.
He sniffed derisively. “And the other girls?”
“What difference does it make now?” She shot back.
The car veered toward the exit ramp and she clutched at the door to keep from leaning too far toward him. She said a small prayer to St. Christopher and then to St. Jude, deciding that if St. Christopher wasn’t a real saint anymore then she’d need back-up. Grey was a very dangerous sort of driver normally, and she was discovering that when he was in a temper he was ten times more frightening to be in a car with.
He pulled into a gas station, screeched to a stop and threw the car into park. She was almost afraid to get out of the car—she had a fluttering feeling in her belly that he might drive away and leave her there. With trembling hands she gathered her purse and stepped out without another word to him. She had a little money in her purse and she had her phone. She would be alright if he left her there. She could call someone to pick her up. It wouldn’t be the end of the world. She tried to assure herself of her independence as she located the ladies room and knocked.
Finding it blessedly unoccupied she bent the standard-issue handle down and pushed inward. The hum of the fluorescent light above her head was louder than the store’s radio and the effect of the flickering lighting was distinctly corpse-green. She pushed the little button to lock the door behind her and sized-up the toilet. It didn’t look too terribly filthy. It certainly didn’t look clean, either though.
When she’d finished she was surprised for the second time that day that Grey had waited for her. She found him idly spinning the sunglasses rack, a look a mild disgust on his face.
“Thank you.” She told him stiffly as she joined him where he stood.
“Do you need anything?” He asked casually, as if the last words they’d spoken before her restroom break hadn’t been about rape and blackmail.
“Maybe a bottle of water?” She said, aware that such a purchase would mean the inevitability of having to make another stop sometime before the resort.
“Nothing to eat?”
She felt her stomach revolt at the mention of food. “I couldn’t eat a thing.” She said. “Everything makes me want to throw up.”
He nodded tersely. “Any specific brand?” He asked in a lazy voice as he strolled to the large glass refrigerator doors along the wall of the convenience store.
Any specific brand of… water? “No.” She decided to keep her opinion on the absurdity of that question to herself and watched him with one eyebrow raised as he chose the most expensive brand of bottled water from the cool bowels of the refrigerator. He grabbed two of them and headed for the register.
“Want a magazine or something?”
She thought a magazine might be nice but shook her head. She wondered what aspect of his personality made him behave like this. Like a perfect gentleman. Considerate. Generous. She wondered if it had something to do with being in a public venue. But then, he hadn’t needed to get out of the car at all. But he had. He’d come into the little store to wait for her and offer her treats and she shook her head in confusion.
He paid for a pack of gum and the waters, handed her one and then walked to the door, which he held open for her. She felt a tugging in her breast and she attacked it with a savage force. ‘So he held a door for you’. He was well bred, she told herself brutally, he would always hold doors for her, for any woman, because he’d been raised right, ‘not because he cares about you at all’. It was habit, nothing more.
When they reached the car he opened that door too and she chided herself for being pleased with the gesture. ‘Get a hold of yourself Maggie’, she warned, As she thanked him and sat.
After unwrapping some gum he turned on the radio, searched for a station and offered her a piece, to which she had a peculiar aversion at present, and pulled out of the gas station toward the highway. They didn’t speak again for another hour and a half, and to her surprise it was Grey who broke the silence.
“Do you need me to find a rest stop?” He asked.
Gratitude swelled in her heart despite her best efforts to remain neutral. “Thank you, yes.” She had been prepared to wait, to hold it a while longer, but given the opportunity she would absolutely love to stop.
“Are you hungry yet?”
The mention of food didn’t immediately turn her stomach so she entertained the notion. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” He asked, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“It’s hard to be sure.” She said, feeling a bit silly.
“You didn’t eat much at brunch.” He observed, and she was surprised he’d noticed that.
“And I threw that up in the ladies’ room.” She confessed. She felt guilty about that, it had been an expensive meal.
“You should eat.” He said sternly.
“I think I’d like a smoothie.” She said after a minute. It was hard to think of any liquids at the moment though, because she had to pee pretty badly.
“It’s the middle of the winter.” He was almost laughing. She sighed. She didn’t want to be difficult.
“Maybe there’s a juice place?” She suggested half-heartedly.
“I’ll look for one at the next exit.” He answered.
“Thank you.” She said, not really believing that he could be so considerate to someone who had effectively ruined his life.
They fell back into a silence. She didn’t know what to say, and he didn’t seem to want to talk much anyhow. Her mind wandered and the questions she’d been trying hard to bury all afternoon resurfaced once more. What in heaven would they do all week? Because they certainly weren’t going to honeymoon in the traditional sense. She swallowed and blushed a little at the thought.
She reprimanded herself for thinking about him that way. It would only hurt more. Because she had loved him. With all her heart. Had fallen head over heels in love. And he had been a complete bastard. The worst.
She needed to loathe him. She hated that she was still attracted to him. Hated that she wondered if he still felt attracted to her at all.
Because what was the point in wondering those things? In thinking about them? If he didn’t care for her before, then forcing him into a marriage wasn’t going to magically stir up affection in the man. He likely loathed her and resented her and she knew she’d better get used to that right away. Get used to a cold, passionless marriage with a man who could barely stand her.
She recited the Hail Mary in her head and tried to decide if she’d done the right thing. She’d had no choice. It had been the only way. She’d made mistakes, big mistakes with this man, swept up in the heat of passion, and this, as underhanded as it was, was the only way out. She sighed and resigned herself to an unhappy existence if it meant her child would be well provided for and that her father would not disown her.
It hurt too much to think of her father, of his disappointment, of his broken heart that morning over brunch. A broken heart would mend in time, especially when she delivered him a grandchild. She smiled a bittersweet little smile as she imagined what a wonderful grandfather he would make.
She thought Mr. and Mrs. Delaney seemed like they would be good grandparents too. Her child would be blessed and loved… perhaps not by its father, but by everyone else. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“The next exit has a smoothie place.” He said, shifting the car over to the far right lane, a small triumphant smile on his face.
He glanced at her then and she smiled gratefully. His smile faded to a shadow. Reluctantly, it seemed, he dragged his eyes off her face and back to the road.
What in heaven were they going to do with themselves all week?
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