Mad About You

to her feet. "We'd better go," she said in her strongest voice.
    "Let me get that, honey," her dad said, reaching for her bag. He squeezed her shoulders and gave her a smile. "Everything's going to be just fine, you'll see."
    She nodded and straightened her shoulders, turning to signal Detective Lance. The salt-and-pepper-haired man was already on his feet, looking grave and protective in his navy suit. He settled a hat on his head with both hands, then stopped to stare at something down the concourse.
    Virginia heard Bailey before she saw him. "Ginny!" he yelled. "Wait—I'm coming!"
    She shook her head in grudging relief. Bailey rounded the corner in a flurry of flying arms and legs, the bag slung over his shoulder bouncing against his hip. Virginia blinked in astonishment at his appearance. Was this the same man she'd seen the previous night?
    His hair had been neatly shorn into short, thick layers, his jaw cleanly shaven. He wore dark jeans and boots with a white dress shirt and—wonder of wonders—a tie of muted colors that complemented the charcoal-gray sport coat covering his wide shoulders. Her throat went dry at his transformation from plain good-looking to downright gorgeous.
    Then he grinned and vaulted from gorgeous to drop dead devastating.
    "I made it," he announced. "Hello, Peg… Edward." He inclined his head, then extended his hand to Virginia's father.
    Edward Catron considered the hand offered to him for several seconds before he clasped it in what appeared to be an iron grip, considering the flash of pain on Bailey's face.
    "Bailey," her father acknowledged.
    Her mother gave Bailey a tentative smile when he squeezed her hand in greeting. Detective Lance had just finished reintroducing himself when the harried gate attendant rushed over to hustle them onto the plane.
    At the doorway the head flight attendant met Virginia with a warm smile. "Your parents mentioned the purpose of your trip to one of the gate crew. We've arranged for you and your husband to sit in first class."
    Before Virginia could react, the captain appeared and extended his own congratulations, again addressing them as a married couple. Avoiding Bailey's gaze, Virginia smiled and nodded her way through the uncomfortable misunderstanding, immensely relieved when they were shown to their seats.
    "How about that?" Bailey said cheerfully while the plane taxied to take off. "We're celebrities."
    Rather than putting her at ease, though, Bailey's carefree smile left her unsettled. Despite the new clothes and tame hair, the gravity of the situation still had not sunk into his irresponsible head. Suddenly the shock, the worry, and the fear of the last fifteen hours rose in Virginia's chest like a suffocating bile. She gagged, jamming her hand to her mouth as she dropped her chin and closed her eyes.
    "Ginny?"
    She lurched forward as the plane became airborne. Her stomach dipped precariously, then she felt his hand at the small of her back.
    "Here's an airsick bag. Are you okay?"
    She started to nod agreeably, as she had a hundred times since she'd heard the news, then changed her mind. "No," she gasped, grabbing the bag. She heaved her meager breakfast into it, then sat back, purged and weak, only to find Bailey and the attendant hovering over her.
    "Are you all right, ma'am?"
    Bailey requested a wet cloth, concern evident in his voice, but he didn't push Virginia to talk. She squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on taking deep, even breaths. Suddenly a cool, soothing cloth was applied to her forehead by gentle and disturbingly familiar hands. "Can't blame you, Ginny," he murmured. "I felt a little queasy myself this morning. After all, this is a pretty big day for us."
    Us. The word reverberated through her fuzzy brain, and a lump of hurt and anger formed in her throat. They should have been able to present a strong, united, happily married front for their son today, but Bailey hadn't loved her enough to stick it out. Deep down, she knew she shouldn't blame him for feelings he hadn't been able to manufacture, but his rejection of her had hurt badly, and if truth be known, it still did.
    She opened her eyes, reached up to take the cloth from his hand, and slowly wiped her mouth. "There is no us , Bailey," she whispered hoarsely.
    He searched her face for a moment, and she hoped her newfound resolve was evident. Her life seemed to be in a state of free fall, and she had to regain some measure of control. Her breathing became shallow as