To Catch a Husband. Laura Altom Marie
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“Um, guys? Hello?” Charity waved. “I’m sitting right here.”
“Well?” Bear asked Charity. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Now, would both of you please leave, so I can get some work done.”
“I thought you told me you had woman problems?” Adam said. “You know, all that stuff about how you want to get pregnant but—”
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked Adam, shoving back her chair so hard she rammed it into the cubicle’s back wall and, in the process, managed to knock down a few thick procedural guides. “I told you that in private. Why couldn’t you keep your big mouth shut?” Standing, snatching the mini-backpack she used for a purse, she shot both men her dirtiest look, then headed for the door.
“She’s pregnant?” Bear asked Adam once Bug was out of earshot.
“Nah,” Adam said, finishing off her popcorn, wondering what he’d said to tick her off this time. “At least, I don’t think so. Guess she could be, but who could be the dad?”
“I dunno,” Bear said. “Only guy she ever hangs with is…” He looked straight at Adam and grinned. “Congratulations, man. I didn’t even know you and Bug were an item. Well, I knew you two hung together, but—”
“Cut it out,” Adam said, taking off after her.
Dammit, Bug was his best friend. What had happened between Sunday morning at her apartment and now? All he’d done was ask her to pretend to be his date. Had that really been so much to ask?
Hell, he’d helped her move—twice! Seemed to him that’d been a whole lot harder than a measly few nights out on the town.
He just couldn’t deal with going on a string of meaningless dates. Casual, he could do. But putting himself out there in a romantic way hurt too damn much—especially because no matter how hard he tried, nearly a decade later, he just couldn’t seem to work through what’d happened to Angela.
He’d met her while on assignment. Her dad was a high-powered judge, and death threats had been made against not just him, but his wife and only daughter. Adam, who was twenty-five at the time and easily blended in with her college crowd, had been assigned to be her closest contact.
Adam had always considered himself to be a man’s man, not easily swayed by batting eyelashes or pouty lips. But one look at Angela and he’d been a goner. Even though he’d known getting involved with her was against the rules, when she’d showed classic signs of interest, he’d fallen hard. They’d managed to keep things under wraps for a while, but pretty soon, with Angela wired for sound, his boss caught on to the fact that every time her mike cut out, Adam had been cutting in. Lord, but they’d had some hot make-out sessions in her sorority house attic.
He’d tried, for Angela’s safety—and his sanity—to cool things down, but that had only made her want to be with him all the more. God help him, he’d felt the same. He’d loved her. For the first time ever, he’d known what it was like to be willing to die for someone.
He’d been pulled off the case. Then, over a candlelit frozen lasagna dinner at his apartment, asked her to marry him. With an excited squeal, she’d accepted.
Adam had expected trouble from her family—he was far from her social standing—but to the contrary, her dad had been a self-made man, working two jobs to get through law school, and he’d adored Adam. He’d also loved the fact that Adam wasn’t one of Angela’s typical spoiled frat boys. Despite ever-increasing death threats, Angela’s mother had launched plans for a wedding fit for royalty. She’d been warned it wasn’t safe. But she’d said a life lived in fear wasn’t worth living. Adam had admired the hell out of her moxie, yet he’d worried.
The size of the family’s security detail doubled.
Still, Adam worried.
Worried to the point that Angela had moved in with him, because he believed with his entire being no one could keep her as safe as him. After all, no one else could have comprehended loving her as he had.
But in the end, the security hadn’t been enough.
His love? That hadn’t done squat.
On a blustery Tuesday afternoon, hustling to interview a wedding consultant, Angela had been shot outside Adam’s apartment door. He’d been right beside her. Two other marshals had flanked her. Four other marshals had covered the stairwell and parking area. The coward-ass sniper had shot through them all. Hit Angela straight through her heart. She was supposed to have been wearing a vest, but had whined it made her look fat. Yeah, well, there in his arms, she’d looked dead. And there wasn’t a damned thing—
Swallowing hard, willing himself to breathe, Adam squeezed his eyes shut.
He’d let her down. Yeah, she should’ve worn the vest, but he should’ve insisted. Made a game out of putting it on her himself.
Should’ve. Would’ve. Could’ve.
He could second-guess himself till the end of time, but the end result would still be the same. For all practical purposes, he’d killed the woman he’d loved. And now he would pay the consequences—for the rest of his freakin’ life.
Sure, on the outside, he came across as a happy-go-lucky guy, but inside, he knew damned well he was damaged goods. Which was why it was so important for him to keep things right between him and Bug. He didn’t deserve another chance at love, but surely even screw-ups like him deserved a best friend.
Which was exactly what Bug had become.
He caught up with her in the parking garage just as she was about to climb into her company-issued black SUV. “You’re fast,” he said.
“Why are you here?”
“My car’s parked next to yours.”
“And that’s it?”
He sighed, wiped his face with his hands. “We’re together every Sunday, right?”
“Usually. But what does that have to do with why you followed me?”
“I didn’t follow you,” he said. “I just pointed out I was parked next to you.”
“Okay. Great. See you tomorrow.” She opened her door and climbed in behind the wheel.
“Wait.”
She sighed. “Adam, I’m really tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Yeah, I know. But yesterday, having to watch football without you—or your Velveeta dip—now that was a long day.”
Lips pressed tight, she rolled her eyes.
“Seriously, with both my brothers married and most of the other guys I know either in a serious relationship or rooting for another team, Sunday afternoon I realized just how alone I really am. The game was a blow-out, so I turned off the TV and went for a long walk. Thought about a lot of stuff. About how maybe instead of constantly grieving Angela’s death, I should celebrate her life. But what I can’t figure is how I’m supposed to do that if I have to be out wasting my time with women I don’t even like.”
“Adam,” Charity said. “I’m really tired. Where are you going with this?”
“Where am I going?” He laughed. “Bug, don’t you see? When I’m with you, losing Angela doesn’t hurt half as much. But when I’m not with you, I feel…” He looked away. “I’m bad at this. Really bad.”
“How do you feel, Adam? Tell me.” Please. God knew she felt for Angela. Her too brief shining life. But were Adam to be granted the miracle of one more talk with her, Charity felt certain the woman would’ve told him to get on with things. To have a life. As he was, he just sort of wandered, not really living. Not really dying. Just being. If Angela had loved Adam even half as much as he’d loved her, she would never have wished