Married by June

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His dad interrupted, chopping the air with an impatient swipe. “You’re not running now. You’re being appointed. We’re taking care of it. But it won’t happen if you don’t sit the hell down and let us get started.”

“I won’t be long.” Cooper walked toward the door.

“You’re wasting time we don’t have,” his dad said.

He pushed the door open. His neck prickled as if his dad’s stare was a living thing, ready to leap on him. He owed his brother the chance to explain. He didn’t check to see if Bailey was coming. He didn’t need to. He heard a loud smack and guessed his dad had hit the table. In the kitchen he pulled out two beers and used the bottle opener mounted on the edge of the stainless-steel-covered island to open them. He took a long swallow from one bottle and held the other one out just as Bailey came through the door. The beer ran cold down his throat but did nothing to settle his thoughts, which were pretty much an infinite loop of “Senator Cooper Murphy” and “holy hell” and “out of their freaking minds.”

“Drinking on the job already, Cooper?”

“Don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?” Bailey took a pull of his own beer, but he flicked a glance sideways at Cooper.

“Don’t be flip. Don’t pretend you’re an asshole. I’m not Dad.”

Bailey nodded and put his beer down on the island. Cooper leaned forward, exhausted by what was turning out to be an incredibly long and horrible day.

“What do you want to know?”

“You’re too smart for this to have been a mistake or a surprise. You got her pregnant on purpose. If you wanted out, why not just withdraw from the campaign?”

Bailey glanced toward the closed door and then sighed. “I don’t know why Dad never believes me when I tell him you’re the devious one.”

“I can’t believe you’d do this. Not to your staff or the family. Jill. What the hell, Bay? Why not just retire?”

“Because they wouldn’t have let me.”

Cooper started to protest but Bailey stopped him.

“Don’t pretend it’s not true. I could never stand up to them. You were in there—Dad and Uncle Stephen, Mom, even Theo—they’re relentless. Be sides, it’s not just the job, Coop. It’s my life. Bailey Murphy. I hate freaking Bailey Murphy. If Jill and I were ever in love, that ended years ago. In the past couple years, we haven’t even been friends.” He leaned back on the counter. “She’s having an affair with Cal Dobbs.”

Cooper winced. He’d heard rumors, seen some things that didn’t add up, but he’d always thought Jill had better taste. Cal had a bad haircut and a worse personality. And he cheated at golf. Among other things, apparently.

“I used to get a charge out of the job, but that’s not enough. I want a whole life. I want to be with someone I can love and do something I care about because it’s mine, not because someone decided it should be mine for no reason other than that I was born first. I met Deb and…she’s what I want. Her and the baby. As long as I was Senator Murphy, I couldn’t be with her. I couldn’t see another way out.”

“Divorce?”

Bailey shook his head.

He was right. Divorce would have gotten him out of the marriage, but he wanted out of the job, too. Out of his life.

“You could have thrown a debate. Messed up a speech.”

“No one cares about that stuff except guys like you. It wouldn’t have affected the election.”

Cooper crossed to the round wooden breakfast table in a windowed nook overlooking the backyard. He sat, putting his beer next to him, stretching his legs in front of him, wishing he could figure out what he was supposed to feel. Growing up, he and Bailey had eaten dinner at this table more often than not. When their parents were both home, the family ate in the dining room, but nights when all four of them were around at the same time had been rare. He’d been close to Bailey and he knew his brother had struggled with their parents’ expectations when he was younger, but he’d seemed to grow out of that. Maybe he’d just gotten better at hiding it.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to say to his dad, but he was certain of one thing.

“I’m not taking this unless you swear to me you want out. If they’re pushing you out or there’s something else going on, you tell me now and we’ll deal with it together.”

“You’d stand up for me against Dad?” Bailey asked.

“Say the word.”

“I want out,” Bailey said.

Cooper pushed himself up. “That’s it then.” When he passed his brother, Bailey grabbed his arm.

“If you’d stand up to him for me, Coop, you should do it for yourself, too. Don’t let them ram this down your throat.”

“I’m not—”

“You go back in there and they won’t give you any time to think. You’re going to be handing your life over to them because you know and I know that the Murphy legacy has always meant more to Dad and Uncle Stephen, to all of them, than any one of us. Ever since he lost the vice presidency, it’s gotten worse. Even Mom is obsessed.”

Cooper blinked at the intensity on Bailey’s face.

“If I don’t take it, what happens?”

Bailey shrugged. “They went over all that before you got here. If they can’t get you in, they’re going with Harry Small—he’s a D.A. in Pittsburgh. The trouble is, he’ll want to run for the seat and Dad thinks he’d have a better than decent chance of getting the committee to back him for the nomination.”

“So Theo wouldn’t run. No more Murphys in the Senate.”

“That wouldn’t be the worst thing, Coop. It’s not your problem.”

“For you and me, maybe it’s not the end of the world. But for the rest of them…they’d never forgive you.”

“I’m not sure they’re going to forgive me anyway.” Bailey took another swig of beer. “Mom’s seriously not talking to me. She said something about polluting Dad’s legacy and then she walked out.”

“They’ll forgive you.” It would take time, but they’d come around. Cooper didn’t want to think about what his brother must be feeling right now. Politics wasn’t just their family business. In a lot of ways, it was their family. “Although if we lose the seat because of this, I doubt Uncle Stephen would ever talk to you again.” He deliberately singled out their uncle, but they both knew he’d left their dad’s name unspoken. Before today Cooper wouldn’t have thought his mom would go that far, but now he wasn’t so sure. “You’re having a kid, Bay. Now isn’t the time to lose your family.”

That was probably when it sank in that Bailey had jumped ship. He’d met someone named Deb, fallen in love with her, and had a baby on the way. He’d risked everything to give himself a chance at the life he wanted, but he wouldn’t be totally happy without the family. No matter what doubts he had about taking Bailey’s seat, Cooper wouldn’t say no. Not if it meant the seat stayed in Murphy hands long enough for Theo to get elected. That would leave the door open and Bailey might be able to salvage a relationship with their parents.

Bailey glanced away. “I want you to meet Deb,” he said. “I think you’re going to like her. She reminds me a little of Jorie.”

Cooper patted his brother’s shoulder. For the second time, he found himself unable to tell a member of his family that he’d ended his engagement. “I’d like to meet her.” He hesitated, not sure what else to say. “I want you to be happy.” That was true. He’d always wanted that. He just hadn’t known how far from happy his brother was.

“Thanks.”

“A baby, man.” He pulled Bailey in and hugged him hard. “Congratulations.”

When he stepped back, Bailey was grinning—the same grin that had probably won him a few thousand votes all on its own. “Thanks, Coop. You’re the first one to say that.”

COOPER WENT BACK TO the study by himself. He’d have to get used to this, he guessed. Starting today, he was going to be standing on his own, without Bailey in front of him. That made two losses for the day—his brother and Jorie. He missed them both.

He pushed the study door open. “I’ll do it,” he announced.

“Thank God I have one son left with some sense.”

His dad stood and shook his hand. Cooper didn’t know what to feel. He’d never wanted this, still didn’t really want it. He’d spent his entire life being Bailey’s younger brother. That role was comfortable. He knew his strengths—writing speeches was one of them—but put him in front of a crowd and ask him to deliver the words on his own? No way. He could do it, but he hated it. He hoped this temporary appointee gig wouldn’t include many public speaking obligations.

“We’re going to need to get Jorie over here to brief her. Give Theo her number and he can call her.” Nolan sat back down. “Good thing Theo is one of your groomsmen. We can use the press coverage of the wedding to our advantage.”

“Uh, Dad,” he said. “I broke off the engagement.”

His dad pushed his chair back and stood so fast it tipped over. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I broke off the engagement. Right before you called me.”

“My God! You and your brother are going to ruin this family. How could you be so stupid?”

“It didn’t have anything to do with the family, Dad.”

“You don’t think Cheating Senator’s Brother Breaks Heart of Grieving Fiancée is going to be a story that gets picked up? Or did you forget some how that your wedding is the kickoff event for the tenth anniversary of the Wish Team, a group that grants goddamn wishes to people who are dying? How is the governor supposed to appoint you if you’re no better than your brother?”

“When I broke up with her, I had no idea Bailey was resigning,” Cooper said. “Maybe it’s a good thing—I won’t be distracted by the wedding. Total focus for the new job.”

He looked to his cousin for support, but Theo said, “There’s no way, Coop. You’re going to get crucified. Bailey made sure of that.”

“Get her back,” his dad said flatly.

“You can’t honestly expect me to marry Jorie because you say so.”

His dad clenched his fists.

Theo spoke up. “What did Jorie say?”

“What?”

“Is she happy? Did she agree?”

Cooper remembered the bleak look on her face. “No.”

His dad nodded eagerly. “That’s good then. Right.” He turned to Theo and continued speaking as if Cooper wasn’t in the room. “So we’ll have him tell her he changed his mind. He can get her back and no one will be the wiser.”

“No one except me! You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t have to marry her. Postpone the wedding until after the election and then you can break up again.”

“Dad, listen to yourself. I’m not doing that to her.”

“If you dump her now,” Theo said, “your breakup is going to be dragged into Bailey’s screwed-up situation which will kill her business. Who’s going to hire a wedding planner whose own wedding turned into such a public circus? No bride will want to think about an affair and a broken engagement every time she gets advice from Jorie. Go to her and explain. Buy some time for both of you so she can get out of this with her dignity intact.”

Cooper didn’t like the way his dad looked so delighted with this solution. On the other hand, Jorie had been hurt enough. Theo’s issue with her business aside, having their breakup splashed all over the news would heap more hurt on her. She’d already had an awful year, losing her mom with so little warning. He didn’t want to marry her, but he didn’t wish her any more sadness. He owed it to her to give her the choice.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“And then you’ll get right back here because we’re already behind,” his dad said.

“I’ll talk to Jorie and then come back here,” he agreed.

“Tell her we’ll need to brief her. I’ll set up an appointment and have someone call her.”

It was already starting. The switch from a private, ordinary life to a very public one. His dad wouldn’t be calling Jorie to make a casual lunch date the way a regular father-in-law would. Instead she’d be squeezed in, reminders would be sent, and his dad’s BlackBerry would beep exactly seven minutes before the meeting. Jorie had gone from fiancée to business asset in one afternoon.

He didn’t see his mom or Bailey when he was leaving the house. Outside on the sidewalk, he thought about calling a cab. It was getting dark and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He’d had a bite of cake at Alice’s, but before that maybe coffee he’d bought on the way to the church? He decided to walk. He could grab something to eat and get his thoughts together on the way.

He pulled out the small, leather-bound notebook he carried. He got some of his best ideas while he was walking and he was going to need all of his skill tonight. Somehow, between here and Jorie’s house, he had to figure out how the hell to tell her that his brother had messed things up for all of them. He flipped the notebook open, looking for a blank page. He paused at the place where he’d tried to write his wedding vows, looking at the few words he’d managed, feeling sick about what his dad had asked him to do.

If she’d agree to postpone their breakup for a few months, he’d help her plan how to back out gracefully. At least he’d have a chance to smooth over his fumbling breakup that afternoon.

Flipping the page, he wrote 1. Bailey. 2. Senate. He hesitated, his pen resting on the notebook. What next? He scribbled 3. Me + You (for now). Which worked fine as a subject heading, but the content? What was he going to tell her exactly? That they’d have to pretend to be in love for a few more months? That was it, right?

Great. He closed the book. Now all he had to do was fill in the details that would persuade Jorie. No sweat.

CHAPTER THREE

WHEN SHE GOT home, Jorie wanted to be depressed. She would spend her days doing nothing but watching daytime TV in her rattiest sweats while eating chocolate and processed cheese products. It was something jilted brides and the recently unemployed should do. It was what she’d never done. She’d spent so many years working hard to build her business and her life, to prove that she wasn’t going to be like her mom, wouldn’t have to wait for a man to complete her, and now, here she was anyway. Jilted and left with nothing. Depression was the obvious next step. She’d bought the Cheetos on the way home, and now all she needed was the sweats.

She dropped the coffee-stained dress on her bedroom floor and stepped on it deliberately. The heels she’d abandoned by the foot of the bed and the dress were the only things out of place in the room. That was going to change. She was pretty sure she would become messy during her depression.

Deep in the bottom drawer of her cherry dresser, she found the T-shirt she’d bought at the Dirty Bird Bar when she went to Ocean City for spring break back in college. The fabric was so worn it was threadbare. That shirt, together with a pair of sweats she’d stolen from a boyfriend years ago, gave her the perfect outfit for her new lifestyle.

She sat on the bed to put the sweats on, then picked up her shoes. She stopped herself just as she was about to place them on the rack in her closet. Neatness was a habit, after all. One she could break. She let the heels fall back to the floor, and when one of them landed inside the closet accidentally, she gave it a kick to the middle of the room.

She stuck with the depression plan through one small bowl of Cheetos and three do-it-yourself shows with borderline attractive hosts. Her fingers turned orange. She missed the real butter and eggs in Alice’s cakes.

She thought about Cooper saying she was lying, and anger flared, spoiling her depression.

Maybe she should turn on her computer and order some pajama bottoms because her ratty sweats weren’t presentable enough to wear if she had to run to the corner store. But she really shouldn’t waste the money. Who knew how long she’d have to make her savings last.

She glanced across the room at the top drawer of the sideboard where she’d locked up her inheritance from her mom. Some people might think of the jewelry as a safety net, but Jorie had sworn she’d never use it, no matter how broke she was. When she’d made that promise, her business hadn’t been down the tubes, but her new circumstances didn’t change the way she felt about her mother’s jewelry. Each piece represented a failed hope, a guy who’d let her mom down in the end. She wouldn’t profit from that.

A picture of her and her mom and Cooper sat on the sideboard. Taken at their engagement party, the shot had captured her mom in a rare moment of unguarded laughter. Chelsea had been so aware of her image that most photos showed her only from her “good” side, her head tilted to erase any hint of a double chin. It was suddenly imperative that Jorie get the picture out of her living room. Cooper had put that smile on her mom’s face. She couldn’t be expected to keep a photo that reminded her of her enormous failure.

She took the picture with her into the bedroom and slid a basket off the top shelf of her closet. The stack of cotton sweaters that had been in the basket joined the dress and shoes on the floor. She put the picture in instead, along with the World War II spy novel Cooper had insisted she read. The pages were littered with his underlinings and exclamations and notes to himself and her. Despite the fact that she was devouring the story, she couldn’t read the rest of it with his presence on every page.

She set the basket on the bed and pulled the drawer of her nightstand open. Into the basket went the pair of glasses he’d left at her place to wear when he took out his contacts, followed by contact solution and an extra carrying case. The box of condoms went next, but then she removed it. She wasn’t engaged anymore, and they were her condoms. Who knew when she might need one or twelve?

She collected two of his T-shirts and a sweatshirt from her dresser and tossed them into the basket, then headed back to the living room. She was proud that she didn’t sniff any of the clothing, even though Cooper’s scent—a combination of guy deodorant, paper and ink—was one of the things she’d always liked about him. Obviously, or she wouldn’t have stolen the T-shirts in the first place.

The basket was now full of the odds and ends of her year-long relationship with Cooper Murphy. She flopped on the couch, the basket on the table in front of her. Their wedding binder was on top of the clothes. Cooper wouldn’t want it, but then neither did she. Let him deal with it. In fact…she jerked the antique diamond ring he’d given her off her hand and tossed it on top of his stuff. Screw him. She wasn’t going to start a collection of jewelry for the next generation of jilted Burke women. She didn’t want any reminders of Cooper Murphy or this whole crazy year.