Accidentally Married on Purpose (19 page)

Well, that wasn’t exactly accurate. The woman couldn’t lie worth a damn. Her big green eyes gave away her every thought. But she never intentionally broke confidences. If no one directly asked her about Sherry’s marriage—and no one would, since up until now she’d sold this thing—everything should be fine.

Besides, she could use some advice about now, and
that
her bestie rocked.

“Well, all right then.” Pushing to his feet, Tyler raked a hand through his messy hair. It flopped back in place, bangs falling across his forehead, and Sherry itched to touch the silky strands. Even in the midst of the sky falling, the man turned her on. She was hopeless.

“I guess I’ll let you two talk. If you need me, I’ll be at the studio.” He bent down and kissed her softly, a chaste peck that seemed equal parts instinct and ruse, then snapped his fingers together. “Be good, ladies.”

Angelle smirked in reply and silently watched his awkward exit. She waited, lips pursed, until his footsteps faded down the hall. Then, turning back to Sherry, she said, “Normally, I’d say this is none of my business. A couple’s marriage is their own affair. But, honey, you two look guiltier than a pair of streetwalkers in service on Sunday.”

Even grumpy and sore, Sherry couldn’t help but smile. “That’s my usual look.”

“Uh huh. And your handsome husband was sleeping in
my
bed because…?”

“Because we had a fight last night?” Her voice lifted at the end, question-like, and Angelle raised an eyebrow.

Bah. This conversation was going to require caffeine.

“Fine.” Sherry lifted her hands in the air, symbolizing a white flag. “Nosy minx, I will reveal all. But please, a little patience? Mama needs her coffee.” Glancing at her smarting knee, she added, “And a Band-Aid. Just give me a few minutes and I’ll scrounge us up some breakfast. Then I promise, I’ll explain.”

Angelle snorted. “How about
I
make breakfast, and you tame that wild nest on your head? If you cook, we’ll be eating charcoal biscuits and burned grits.”

Sherry rolled her eyes and grinned. “Fair enough.”

Lifting a hand to the mattress, she pulled herself up and withheld a groan at her friend’s intelligent stare. “I’ll see you in the kitchen in five.”

Angelle nodded and left the room.

The entire time Sherry got ready—brushing her teeth and fixing the chaotic mess she called hair, tugging on clothes and, well,
stalling
—she considered what she’d say. What reason she could give for newlyweds who exhibited zero signs of illness or sleep apnea to sleep apart. Any way she sliced it, the choice was embarrassing. Either she and Tyler were fighting two weeks into their quickie marriage, which she’d done a horrific job of selling a few moments ago, or they were lying to everyone. Neither option cast her in the adored, fairy-tale light she’d wanted for herself.

After sitting on the closed lid of the toilet for what felt like an eternity, Sherry stood up, knowing it was time she faced her too-smart friend. So much for her relaxing day off. She straightened her shoulders, determined to do her best whichever path it took—fact or fiction—and marched into the kitchen.

On the counter sat two plates filled with fluffy eggs, buttered toast, and sliced strawberries. Her stomach groaned.
Loudly.
Two steaming mugs of chicory coffee scented the air with a heavenly aroma, and her synapses fired in response. Behind all that was Angelle, forearms bent against the granite top, a suspicious grin curving her mouth.

“So, I’ve been thinking.”

That’s not good.
Whenever women uttered that phrase, all signs pointed to hell. Sherry would know; she used it often. Wrapping her palms around the mug closest to her, she let the heat infuse her skin, inhaled the earthy scent, and took a tentative sip.

“Oh, yeah?” She lowered the cup just enough to blow along the surface before taking another hit. “And your conclusion?”

“You’re hiding something,” Angelle replied. She let that declaration hang in the air as she leisurely cut her fork into the pile of eggs and savored a heaping bite. After chewing and swallowing, she dug in for a second one. As she lifted the fork to her mouth, her eyes flicked to Sherry. “My instincts say you’re as happily married as I was engaged two months ago.”

Female intuition was a bitch. Sherry frowned, ready for a rebuttal, when Angie set a giant box of Nerds on the counter. Tyler’s Nerds. Which meant Angie had gone exploring.

See, that was another flaw in their plan. It wasn’t
just
Tyler’s clothes in Angelle’s room. It was everything he owned. His prized guitar, his collection of lyric-filled notebooks, and his perpetual stash of Nerds. They’d moved every bit of it back after Angelle stayed over, never once thinking she’d return so soon.

Excuses were now irrelevant. The jig was officially up.

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

It was as good as a confession, and the slight widening of Angelle’s eyes suggested she was surprised. Maybe because she figured Sherry would stubbornly hold tight to her story. Maybe she hadn’t been certain of her theory. It didn’t matter why. Sherry had just broken her own rule, but maybe this is exactly what needed to happen.

Setting down her mug, she sank onto a barstool, ready for some sound advice.

“Tyler really
is
a great guy. Awesome, in fact. And we
did
get married in Vegas. That much, at least, is true. But everything else? It’s…” A disaster? A mess? Heartbreak waiting to happen? “A runaway train is what it is.”

Angelle put down her fork, giving the admission her full attention, and Sherry dropped her head onto her folded arms. The weight of a boulder seemed to have lifted from her shoulders…only now, a raging battle churned in her stomach. Her chest pinched painfully.

“We…have an agreement,” she explained, staring at the counter’s speckled pattern. Black and white dots morphed before her eyes. “The marriage thing was a whim. One that, honestly, neither of us even remember. But Tyler needs this relationship to save his career. And I…well, I need to keep from being a joke. At least, that’s how it started.”

Lately, however, saving face and fairy-tale dreams took a backseat to her wacked-out feelings for her husband.

“And a lot of what we told you
did
happen,” she continued. “We met in the green room, we hit it off, and we spent the weekend together. An amazing weekend.” Sherry lifted her head. “Angie, I didn’t know things like that existed. I think, maybe, I started falling for him even then. I don’t know. But that last night, things got wild. We drank too much, somehow wound up hitched, and here we are.” She licked her lips and dragged her teeth along the bottom. “If the press discovered what
really
happened, I’d be nothing but a pathetic headline. And Tyler’s career would be in the toilet.”

The pale skin between Angelle’s eyes furrowed. “Honey, I have no room to judge here. You know what happened between your brother and me at Thanksgiving. I get self-preservation, I do.” She paused and seemed to choose her next words very carefully. “But sweetie, I know you. I know your heart. And I have to wonder, in
this
case, if it’s not worse living the lie.”

A humorless laugh escaped Sherry’s lips. “I’m not sure I even know what’s real and what’s not anymore.”

Picking up her mug and taking a fortifying sip, she then caught her friend up on the events of the last two weeks. Tyler’s proposition and her list of rules. The kiss out in the driveway. His guitar lesson and parts of the night they slept in her room. Not his mother’s illness—that wasn’t her secret to share—but enough for Angelle to get a clear picture of the man she married. And the mess she’d landed herself in this time.

Luckily, Angelle Prejean was a good egg. A sweetheart, loyal to the core. Once she and Colby straightened out their mess last summer, and stopped sorta going after the same man, Angie had been like a sister to them both. Soon, she’d be one for real. There was no judgment in her eyes. Not even censure or amusement at her latest failing. Only compassion.

“Well,” Angelle said once the story was over. “It’s not the most conventional of beginnings…but it could make a heck of a story.” Grinning softly, she took Sherry’s hand. “What is your heart telling you?”

“That organ hasn’t exactly been the most helpful in the past.” Sighing, she squeezed her friend’s hand with a forced smile and released her grip. She pushed back from the counter and meandered to the coffee pot. “For as long as I can remember, I’ve looked for the best in people. Colby got cynical in college and Cane started chasing skirt”—her future sister-in-law grunted, knowing full well what a womanizer he’d been—“but I was a fan of love. I’m
still
a fan.” Her mug refilled, she leaned her back against the cabinet. “I just don’t know if I buy it for myself anymore.”

Angelle offered a gentle smile, silently encouraging her to continue.

“I’m the town’s heart-wide-open wild child,” she declared, rolling her eyes at the stupid title. “That’s what people see when they look at me. For a while, I even embraced it.” She looked down at the hot brew. “But my heart’s been burned beyond recognition. Late last year I realized I
must
be crazy, because I kept doing the same thing again and again, expecting a different result. Fishing in the wrong hole, luring the same kind of guys. Cheaters, jerks, playboys…” She made a face and raised her head. “The type of guy I’d pegged Tyler to be. But that’s
Blue
. The Tyler I know is so much more than I ever expected.”

Angelle gave her a smug look, and Sherry threw her head back, knowing what was coming. It was easier to admit the truth to the ceiling.

“What is your heart telling you?” Angie repeated, emphasizing the last two words like Sherry was being intentionally thick. She huffed a laugh because she kind of was.

“If I were to follow my heart, I’d like to see where this could go,” she confessed to the cobweb floating in the corner of the ten-foot room. She’d have to come back in with a broom later to knock it down. “But honestly, where
can
it go? Nashville? Traveling the U.S. via tour bus?”

She looked down to see Angelle shrug. “Yeah, if that’s what you want.”

Sherry opened her mouth and then closed it.

Was
that what she wanted?

Starting a new business—the long-held dream she’d finally begun taking more seriously—would be a challenge out on the road, and she’d miss her family like
whoa.
But tours didn’t last forever. Maybe this was exactly what she needed. A chance to stretch herself, live out loud. See what lay beyond Magnolia Springs.

A strange bubble of hope rose in her core, a tingling warmth that sparked in her chest and spread throughout her limbs. She fought to contain the answering smile, and the result ended up being a squinty-eyed smirk. “I do love a good adventure.”

Chapter Fourteen

A slightly overcast sky was overhead, and a stiff wind blew the canopy, but Tyler Blue Day in the city of Opelousas was nothing short of perfect. The people’s adoration and appreciation for Tyler rivaled the attention you’d expect of royalty, showing up en masse with sparkly signs and tall banners, proclaiming their love for their hometown stud. They overfilled the folding chairs and set up blankets on the lawn, stretching out on either side. Sherry couldn’t have been any prouder.

The last week had been insane. Finalizing the details along with his publicist, Arianne, and her contact with the Louisiana Music Hall of Fame, and trying desperately not to step on any toes. They’d had a great event planned—small and intimate, a few songs, and the announcement. But it just hadn’t been enough. Not for Sherry. It wouldn’t only be former neighbors and stalker fans showing up today. Tyler’s parents were coming, too. And for them, this had to be a party to kick all other party asses. No one said the words, but those in the know understood the truth. This could be the last time his mother saw him before the end. Anything short of spectacular wasn’t an option.

Sherry’s gaze sought the woman out now, looking frail, peaceful, and so very proud of her son, seated right in front. The pure elation shining from the woman’s eyes brought tears to her own. Every second of stress had been worth it.

“You did good.”

Dabbing her eyes, Sherry turned to smile at the man beside her off to the side. Charlie Tucker was Tyler’s bassist and his best friend. Getting to know him had been her second goal of the day.

“Thanks,” she replied, watching as an adorable little boy with a mega voice left the stage. “I wanted to do something different. A fun way to get the town in the mix honoring Blue
.
” She grinned as the boy’s mother swooped him up in her arms. “What I didn’t count on was them stealing the show. That kid freaking rocked!”

Charlie huffed a laugh and propped his foot against the DJ wall behind them. “First thing you learn in this business: there’s always someone younger and cuter ready to steal the spotlight.”

The boy and his family walked past on the way back to their seats, and Charlie held his palm out for a high-five. The young kid smacked it. “You killed it out there, buddy.”

As he posed with the family for pictures and signed the boy’s flier, Sherry couldn’t help but feel proud. Call it sheer brilliance, community outreach, or
Opelousas
Idol
—a somewhat cheesy title the local press coined—the opening to Blue’s show today was genius. Last Sunday local acts auditioned and a select handful won coveted spots to perform. Grandmas in gingham, cute kids in bowties, and all walks in between sang covers of the band’s many hits over the last hour. With Tyler finishing his round of interviews in the back, the final performer took the stage.