The Reluctant Cinderella by Christine Rimmer

1972. Over the years, I’ve come to think of what they have together as more of a merger than a marriage.”
    Megan nudged her untouched coffee to the side and rested her forearms on the table. “Your father did seem a little…cool.”
    That made Greg chuckle. “Cool? He almost smiled once during lunch. For my father, that’s big.Huge, even. Trust me. Today, he was as warm and friendly as he gets.”
    She glanced down, briefly, and then looked up again to search his face. “So it was tough for you, is that what you’re saying—as a kid, I mean?”
    â€œTough?” He shrugged. “After hearing how it was for you—losing your family at seven, going into foster care—I know I’ve got no room to complain. I had everything.”
    She was shaking her head. Her smile was tender, full of true understanding. “Everything but someone to hug you—and love you.”
    He took a sip of coffee and replaced the cup in the china saucer with care. “I hated our house. So big, so quiet, so expensive and perfect and…empty. I was mostly raised by nurses and nannies. Once a day, in the evening before bed, my mother would stop by the nursery for a visit. She was always dressed for dinner when she came. I wasn’t allowed to touch her, except for a quick peck on her perfectly made-up cheek before she left. I hated that. I hated my life.
    â€œBut I was…well-behaved. I was the heir to Banning’s, Inc. and I did what was expected of me. I got good grades at prep school, went off to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill for college, where my dad had gone and his dad before him. They have one of the top business programs in the country. I was a senior, planning to stay another two years and go on through the MBA program, when I met Carly.”
    Megan winced. “Carly,” she said too softly. And then she looked away. “Greg. Honestly, there’s no need to go into all this.”
    He spoke quietly, leaning close so no one else would hear. “You think I want to talk about Carly, to…dredge all this up again? Believe me, I don’t. But I think this is the stuff that has to be said.”
    Megan did meet his eyes then. And she sighed. “All right. Go on—you met Carly in college….”
    â€œShe was on full scholarship, a freshman in library science. It was at a fraternity party, the first time I saw her. She’d come with a roommate. She was so beautiful and so…I don’t know. Unspoiled, I guess. We started dating. She was different than any girl I’d known. Sweeter, more…open. Or so I thought.”
    Megan frowned—and jumped to the defense of her friend. “Carly is sweet. She’s one of the nicest people I know.”
    â€œI agree,” he said, and meant it. After all, it was only the truth. “She’s very sweet—a nice woman. But open? Uh-uh. Carly has secrets. There are…walls she puts up that no one gets through. Or at least, that I never could get through. And take my word for it, I tried. I really believed we would be happy, you know? That we would have a houseful of wonderful, messy, loud, rambunctious kids….”
    He let his voice trail off. The point was to help Megan see what it had been like with Carly, make her understand without making excuses. Mindful of that objective, he tried again. “Once I’d finishedschool, we moved to Rosewood.” He smiled to himself, remembering. “I love Rosewood. To me, it’s the ideal place to live. I was sure I wanted to settle down there the first time I visited, when Carly and I were house-hunting and went to have a look around.”
    Megan almost smiled. But she was keeping it serious. He watched her quell that smile before it burst wide open. She said, “You love Rosewood?”
    â€œYeah. You think that’s strange?”
    â€œWell, I mean, I agree it’s a great town. Mostly