Marriage On The Edge. Sandra Marton

      “The Sons of Jonas Baron,” Gage said, trying even harder. “Sounds like a movie.”

      “Not a bad idea,” Slade said. “I can play myself but they’d need to hire stand-ins for you two. Splash those ugly mugs of yours across the big screen and they’d scare away paying customers.”

      This time, at last, they all laughed.

      “The thing is,” said Travis, “tough as the old man is, eighty-five is a pretty impressive number.”

      “So?” Bitterness tinged Gage’s voice. “I don’t much remember him being impressed enough by other numbers. Your eighteenth birthday, for instance. Or when Slade finished his two years of grad school.”

      “Or your big fifth anniversary party,” Travis said, and Gage felt the pain of Natalie’s announcement rip through him again. “But, what the hell, gentlemen, we’re bigger than that, right?”

      Groans greeted the announcement, but Travis was undeterred.

      “Well, we are. We’re young, he’s old. That’s a simple fact.” His voice softened. “And then there’s Caitlin.”

      “Yeah.” Slade sighed. “I do hate to disappoint her.”

      “Disappoint her?” Gage muttered. “Hell, Catie’ll come after us and cut out our hearts when she hears we’re not coming.”

      “Or other, even more important parts of our anatomies,” Slade said.

      The three Barons laughed, and then Gage gave a deep sigh.

      “Yeah, I know. I don’t like letting her down, but I don’t see a choice here, guys. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”

      “The choice,” Travis said in the tone of reason that had made him such a successful attorney, “the choice, my man, is that there is no choice. We have to show up at this thing.”

      “No way,” two voices said in unison.

      “Look, we’re not kids anymore. Jonas can’t get under our skin. He can’t make us miserable and, what the hell, we do owe him a show of respect. And think how happy we can make Caitlin by showing our faces, singing ‘Happy Birthday’ or whatever it is she’s got planned, before we head out to the real world again. What’ll it take? A couple of days? That’s not much, when you come down to it, is it?”

      Silence skimmed along the phone line. “Maybe not,” Slade said after a while.

      Maybe not, Gage thought—but the birthday weekend was only ten days away. Every instinct he possessed told him it was going to take longer than that to fix this mess with Natalie, to convince her that he still loved her, that he wanted her because, dammit, he did.

      “Okay,” Slade said, and heaved a sigh. “I’m in.”

      “Great,” Travis said. “Gage?”

      Gage cleared his throat. “I can’t.”

      “Dammit, Gage, if Slade can, and I can—”

      “I can’t, I’m telling you! I’ve got—I have things to take care of. Important things.”

      “It’s just a weekend,” Slade said.

      “Well, I don’t have a weekend to spare.”

      “Listen here, brother,” Travis snapped. “If I can manage the time and Slade can manage the time—”

      “Good,” Gage snarled. “Great. I’m proud of the two of you. But I’m busy. Too busy for this kind of nonsense. I have some sensitive things going on here. You guys understand that, or do I have to put it on a billboard?”

      He heard the harshness, the anger, of his own words echoing around him. His brothers were silent and he shut his eyes and put his fist to his forehead. He could almost see the looks they’d be sending each other if they were in the same room.

      He took a deep breath.

      “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice near a whisper. “But I can’t be there. I just can’t.”

      “Sure,” Travis said after a minute.

      “Understood,” Slade said a beat later. “Well…”

      There was silence, then the sound of a throat being cleared. “Well,” three voices said at one time, and then there were hurried goodbyes, good wishes…

      The phone went dead. Gage sat staring at it, waiting—and smiled a little when it rang.

      “Listen,” Travis said without bothering to say hello. “If there’s a problem on your end…”

      “I’m okay.”

      “Yeah, sure you are, but if there should be a problem, whatever—”

      “I’ll call you,” Gage said quietly.

      “Yeah,” Travis said, cleared his throat, and hung up. The phone rang again, almost immediately.

      “Gage?”

      Gage sighed. “Yes, Slade.”

      “Look, if you, ah, if you need anything—”

      “I’m fine.”

      “Yeah, sure, but if you should need anything, somebody to talk to, whatever—”

      “I’ll call you,” Gage said softly.

      “Right.” Slade cleared his throat and hung up.

      Slowly, Gage put down the telephone. He forgot, sometimes, what it was like, having a family that loved you. Maybe Natalie had forgotten, too. He was her family, after all, just as she was his. Maybe all she needed was for him to sit her down, tell her how he loved her…

      The phone rang again. Gage rolled his eyes and picked it up.

      “Listen, you guys, I swear to you, I’m perfectly fine. There’s not a thing troubling me. You got that? My life is perfect. I’m just too busy to take time out for a weekend of sentimental claptrap.”

      “You don’t have to convince me,” Natalie said. “I know all about how busy you are, Gage.”

      “Natalie?” He shot to his feet. “I didn’t realize—”

      “No,” she said, her voice trembling. “No, you never did. I just hope you’re not too busy to take down this phone number.”

      “What phone number? Nat, listen—”

      “My phone number. I’ve left you, Gage. I took an apartment off Lincoln Drive.”

      “Huh?” Gage ran his hand through his hair. “But the last thing you said this morning was—”

      “I changed my mind.”

      “Natalie, baby—”

      “And I’ve spoken with Jim Rutherford. I think you should speak with your attorney, too.”

      Gage’s eyes narrowed. “All this,” he said slowly, “in one morning?”

      “All this, in one morning.”

      “How long have you been planning this, Natalie?”

      “I haven’t. I’ve thought about it, but—”

      “Thought about leaving me? Thought about it?”

      He shut his eyes, remembering the nights she’d feigned sleep, the times he’d taken her in his arms anyway and felt as if she were made of wood. Was that when she’d thought about leaving him? When she lay beside him, when she lay beneath him, in the darkness?

      “Well,” he said, his voice a growl, his heart trying to break and harden at the same time, “I’ve got news for you, baby. I thought about it, too. For months. I just didn’t know how to tell you but I can see,