Slave to the Rhythm (The Rhythm #1)

I loved my mom, but she had the ability to make me feel wretched without saying a single word. Except this time, she had plenty to say.

“Well,” I said carefully, “Ash will be given four free tickets for family and friends, but he’s a bit disappointed in the show.” I sighed. “He doesn’t think it will do well, so you might not want to . . .”

“We’re going!” Mom said emphatically. “I’ve sat through 22 years of school plays and concerts—I’m certainly not going to miss this. If I’m invited, of course.”

I withheld a sigh.

“You’re invited. You too, Dad. Anyone else want to go?”

Eventually, the spare ticket was allotted to Bernice, although Mom declared that all my sisters would want to go, as well. I didn’t know how Ash would feel about that, but there wasn’t much I could do. And I kinda loved that my family was trying to find a way to support him—us.

“Good, that’s decided,” said Mom. “Now, I need to call Father Michael about arranging . . . well, I don’t know what it would be called . . . some sort of blessing. What faith does Ash follow, if any?”

“Bridget,” Dad chided gently.

“No, Brian, this is important. I don’t know why Laney chose to sneak off to have a secret marriage, but as her mother, the least I can do is ensure that she stands in good grace, whatever husband she is married to.”

Everyone winced, but I glared at my mother.

“Mom, just stop! We’re happy as we are. We don’t want any fuss—that’s why we did it this way.”

Which wasn’t a complete lie.

She changed tack abruptly.

“Father Michael will be so disappointed, I won’t know what to say to the poor man. He officiated at your Christening and your Confirmation; all your sisters’ weddings. He was good enough for them. Just because you chose to marry outside the faith, I don’t see why . . .”

“I didn’t.”

I knew I shouldn’t have said that, but Mom brightened immediately. “Ash is Catholic?”

“Yes,” I sighed, “but that still doesn’t mean that we . . .”

Over Dad’s shoulder, I saw Collin walk into the room, looking tired with red eyes, and blotchy skin beneath his pale stubble.

Everyone stopped talking, even Mom, and the day was officially the worst start to Thanksgiving ever.

“Hello, Collin,” I said quietly. “Would you like some coffee?”

He nodded then cleared his throat.

“Coffee sounds great. Thank you.”

I poured him a cup then suggested he drink it out on the covered porch. It was cold out there, but at least we’d have some privacy.

I passed him one of my uncle’s coats, and I wrapped myself in a thick quilt.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, as he nursed his coffee.

He thought about that for a few moments.

“I don’t know, Laney. Confused, I guess. Why did you do it? Why did you marry him and not me?”

I decided to go for full disclosure. I owed him that.

“I gave up thinking that we’d get married a long time ago, Collin. I just assumed it wasn’t what you wanted and I was happy living in my apartment. You’d never mentioned marriage.”

“After ten years, I would have thought that it went without saying!”

“No, it didn’t.”

“But you married him. Behind my back. When we were still dating!”

He shook his head in disbelief and I felt ashamed.

“It happened suddenly,” I tried to explain. “He needed a green card to be able to keep his job. Dancing is important to him, and after everything he’s been through, I wanted to help.”

“What about everything we’ve been through?” he said, his voice rising. “Ten years, Laney! Ten years! Ten years of managing your flare-ups and . . .”

“Collin,” I sighed. “You always saw me as a problem to be solved, you still do—and it doesn’t work like that. This isn’t something I’ll recover from. This is something I live with. Each flare-up will go, eventually, but there will be others. I can’t focus on what the pain is taking from me—I have to focus on what I can do, what I will do. And . . . I don’t want to be your duty.”

He was silent for a moment.

“But you admit he married you to get a green card?”

“Ash is my friend. I care about him—deeply. But when I suggested that he marry me . . .”

Collin looked stunned. “It was your idea?”

“Well, yes,” I admitted weakly.

“Wow,” he said. “I can’t believe this.”

“You and I were already on the edge,” I said carefully. “We’d broken up once and it would have happened again.”

“Because of him!”

“No,” I said quietly. “Because of us.”

He thought about this for a moment and he didn’t argue.

“Were you going to tell me?”

I hesitated. “No, not about the marriage,” I admitted. “We weren’t going to tell anyone. But about you and me, yes—as soon as I got the chance to talk to you face to face, which is what happened.”

He winced when I said ‘we’, referring to me and Ash, but still looked angry. Not that I blamed him.