His Chosen Wife. Anne McAllister
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telling the story herself now, and believing every word she said. “To find yourself. And PJ was probably distraught, but knew he had to let you go.”
“I don’t think he was distraught,” Ally said.
“Of course he was. How could he not be? You’re everything he’d want in a woman.” Cristina looked her over with frank admiration. “He’s not blind.”
Ally felt her cheeks warm. “It wasn’t quite like that. Besides, he wasn’t ready to be married then. Not really married.”
“You mean, adult and responsible and all? Yes, I can see that.” Cristina’s tone grew thoughtful, as if she were remembering, too, what he’d been like ten years ago. “He was a kid. I remember what he was like when he left—moody, distant, could hardly wait to be on his own. Independent to a fault. Yes, he would have needed time and space to find himself, too. But now—” Cristina’s voice brightened visibly “—he has. You both have.”
“Yes.” Ally nodded, glad PJ’s sister understood. Now she could explain about why she’d come, why it was time for them to go their separate ways.
“And so you’ve come back to him.” Cristina sighed in pure appreciation. She smiled broadly. “That is soooo romantic. Who’d ever think PJ would be romantic?”
“He’s not!” Ally blurted, and this time, at least, she managed to get the words out before Cristina could cut her off.
Cristina looked startled at her vehemence. But then she laughed and gestured toward the living room. “Maybe not. But if he’s not a romantic, why did he have Martha paint that mural?”
Ally stared, uncomprehending.
Cristina shook her head. “We didn’t understand what he was up to. But it makes sense now.” She glanced back toward the living room and its resident mural. “Trust me, under all that cool, PJ’s a romantic. And so are you.”
There was only one time in her life Ally thought she’d behaved romantically—and that had been the night she’d spent in PJ’s arms.
Before and after, she’d been a realist. She’d done what she needed to do. She was still doing it. She was being a realist now, asking for the divorce, not asking for the impossible.
She was being a realist in choosing to marry Jon, who wanted the same things she did, who felt about her the way she felt about him. She was, she realized, the daughter her father had wanted her to be, after all.
“I’m not a romantic, either,” she told Cristina.
But PJ’s sister disagreed. Her eyes widened. Her hands fluttered. “Just turning up on his doorstep isn’t romantic?” She laughed and shook her head. “It’s the most romantic thing I can imagine.”
“I didn’t mean—”
But Cristina leaned toward Ally across the table and lowered her voice, as if the men outside might be able to overhear. “I know. You don’t want to scare him to death. Men can be panicky that way. But, honestly, you picked the perfect time. No matter what he thinks. PJ is ready to be married now. He’s settled. Centered. And he dotes on the kids. You should see him with the nephews.”
In fact Ally could see PJ with Alex right now.
Other than when he’d tossed a ball or a Frisbee to a kid on the beach, it was the first time she’d seen him interacting with a child. She’d imagined he might be awkward. Lots of men were.
For that matter, she was. She’d simply had no experience with them. But PJ had apparently had plenty. Or dealing with them came naturally to him.
Ally had expected to see Alex cling to his father and duck his head when PJ talked to him, just as the little boy had with her. But the minute they’d gone outside, Alex had flung himself into his uncle’s arms. And PJ had accepted him willingly, flipping him up and over his shoulders, then whipping him around his side and tossing the boy into the air.
Ally had watched in almost horrified amazement. But PJ seemed perfectly comfortable, and Alex, shrieking with laughter, clearly loved it.
After that PJ had hung Alex upside down, let the boy climb his legs like a logger going up a ponderosa pine, then somersault to the ground. He was like a human climbing frame and Alex was having the time of his life. Even when they stopped, Alex remained sitting on his shoulders while PJ stood there, listening to Mark.
“PJ will be a great dad.” Cristina stated the obvious. “Are you going to have kids soon?”
Ally colored fiercely. “No! I mean—we’re not …!”
“Sorry,” Cristina said quickly. “That really is none of my business. It’s enough that you’re back. Whatever happens, happens, right?”
“Y-yes,” Ally managed. She needed to say it—to tell this woman why she’d really come. But somehow the words wouldn’t form. Because they shouldn’t come from her, Ally told herself. They should come from PJ. He was the one who had told his sister he was married. He needed to be the one to tell her they were getting a divorce.
And when he had kids someday—when he was some child’s wonderful father—that child would not be hers. And if the thought caused pain, Ally didn’t let herself think about it.
“Mom and Dad will be so pleased,” Cristina went on. “Mom can hardly wait to meet you.”
“What?” Ally’s brain jerked back to the moment. “Oh, no!”
Cristina made a face. “You aren’t going to be able to keep her away. She was so excited to hear you’d finally turned up. She said she’d always believed PJ—about being married. Dad thought he was stonewalling. Dad thought he might have even faked the marriage certificate. But Ma said no. So did Yiayia—our grandmother. Yiayia said he wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.”
He’d told them all? He actually showed them their marriage certificate? Ally’s brain spun.
Cristina didn’t notice. She shook her head. “She was right. Mother’s intuition, you think? Before I had Alex, I’d have laughed at that. Now sometimes I think I know what he’ll do before he does it. So she may be right.”
“No, she’s not right!”
At Ally’s outburst, Cristina’s eyes fastened on her. “What do you mean? You said you were married.”
“We are.” She chewed on her lip briefly, torn. What could she say? Talk about opening a can of worms. “For the moment,” she said at last.
Cristina’s gaze snapped up and she frowned. Then her expression lightened. “Oh, are you worried that you might not suit now, after all this time? Don’t be. You’re soul mates, it will work out.”
Ally opened her mouth to deny it, but again the words wouldn’t come out. And she couldn’t tell Cristina about coming here to get him to sign divorce papers. If he’d kept their marriage a secret, it wouldn’t really have mattered. Everyone would know he didn’t care. But he’d told them he was married to her.
Word of the divorce would have to be his to tell.
Cristina patted her hand. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. The only one who’s going to be upset is Dad.”
“What does your father have to do with it?” Just what she needed. One more person’s opinion to matter.
“Oh, he’s a ‘never say die’ sort. He’s still trying to hook PJ up with Connie Cristopolous. Her whole family is coming from Greece this weekend. It’s a huge affair. Sort of a family reunion for us, too. Complete with fatted calf or, in this case, sacrificial lamb. At least, it was. That was going to be PJ.” Cristina laughed. “But not now, obviously. With a wife in tow, he won’t have to worry.”
“But I’m not—”
“Poor Dad,” Cristina said with relish. “Well,