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When the fear and discomfort receded, she stiffened and sat upright, pulling her face away from his tender touch.
“Where’d you find the inhaler?” she croaked.
“In my pocket,” he said, shocking the hell out of her. He wavered for a second, seeming on the verge of saying something else, before clearing his throat uncomfortably and pushing himself to his full six foot even height. He stared down at her while she nervously tucked the wavy strands of her hair behind her ears, hating how uncomfortable she felt in his presence.
“Why?” she finally asked, raising her eyes to meet his. He looked discomfited. His shoulders shifted and he raked a hand through his thick, dark hair.
“Just in case.”
“Just in case? In case of what? Why?”
“In case of this.”
She flushed and fidgeted with the inhaler, twirling it aimlessly between thumb and forefinger. Did he do that often? Pocket one of her inhalers “just in case”? And how the hell did he have access to any of her spares in the first place?
She had so many questions, but no real desire to ask them in that moment. She was exhausted, her brain too sluggish to even attempt to grapple with the question.
“I just thought today would be fun and stress free.” She left it at that.
“Weddings are notoriously stressful,” he said awkwardly, avoiding her eyes.
“They are,” Lilah agreed. Especially when you discovered that your groom didn’t love you and barely liked you. “I should have ensured I had an inhaler close by. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Lilah… earlier. In the car. I was a little harsh. The shock of your vows stripped me of my filter. I shouldn’t have said that thing about not liking you. It was needlessly harsh. I—uh—I apologize.”
Lilah didn’t respond. Frankly, a little shocked he had apologized. Before this she didn’t think she’d ever heard anything close to an apology cross Benjamin Templeton’s lips. It was a little disconcerting. He was always so certain of his absolute rightness in any given situation.
“Where are we?” she asked, glancing around the small room for the first time since he’d brought her in here.
“Not sure, it was empty, private, had a chair, and was close to the ballroom.”
“I think it’s a changing room.”
“Whatever,” he dismissed, his eyes boring holes into hers. “Are you feeling better?”
“Much. Thank you.”
“Look, Lilah, I know this has all been a lot. But we’re in this together, okay? A team of sorts.”
She almost laughed at that. Ben Templeton was not a team player. Never had been. Everything he did was solitary. He was an extremely active man. He ran, kayaked, swam, occasionally climbed, and cycled. While those were not necessarily solitary pursuits, he preferred to do them alone. Rhys Harper was his only real friend… and the only thing the two men appeared to have in common was a love of fly fishing and tennis. They occasionally went on fishing camping trips together, and Lilah had often wondered if they spent their days just grunting at each other, drinking beer, and rhapsodizing over the size of the last trout each had caught.
Now Ben, the quintessential loner, was telling her that they would be a team. Going into this marriage, Lilah had fondly imagined that it would be her and her loving husband against the world. The ultimate team. A union forged in love and mutual respect. Now it would be a mockery of everything she’d hoped it could be.
A team based on lies and deception. The two of them lying to Gramps in particular and the world in general.
She swallowed down a sob, and blinked the blur of tears from her eyes.
“We should be getting back. Gramps will be concerned.”
She pushed to her feet, and he steadied her with a gentle hand to her elbow when she wobbled slightly. She instinctively shrank from his touch and he immediately withdrew his hand. But his eyes were still laden with concern.
“Don’t you usually need rest after an attack? Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Do I have any other choice?”
His silence spoke volumes.
“Well, then, lead the way… husband.”
SIX
Two Months Ago
“We should have done something momentous to mark this occasion,” Lilah said for at least the hundredth time since she, Gramps, and Ben had sat down to dinner.
“Nonsense,” Gramps placated happily and swallowed down a spoonful of malva pudding. “This is all I wanted. An evening with my two favorite people.”
“But it’s your birthday, Gramps,” Lilah grumbled as if he needed reminding.
“Eighty-two is nothing special,” he said with a broad smile. “We had that big to-do with my eightieth, what more could a man ask for? This is perfect.”
“I agree,” Ben inserted quietly, slanting Lilah a speaking look. She hated it when he did that, silenced her with a look as if he were her minder, or her teacher, or a very stern librarian. And she loathed that she immediately lapsed into silence, as she always did when he looked at her like that.
