Marrying Mister Perfect Read online

  “So are you going to go back to work? Now that you’ll be able to?”

  “I don’t know if I could. I’m so out of practice. And the idea of starting from scratch and pinching pennies for a room in a tiny apartment is pretty unappealing.” She’d been spoiled by this life. By not having to worry whether the bills would be paid. She felt like a divorcee who’d been out of the workforce for four years, but she wasn’t even going to get alimony. “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Which sounded too much like I don’t know who I am for comfort.

  She’d gotten so comfortable in this life. Lou knew she used to feel passionately about things other than the kids and Jack, things that were just about her, but now she couldn’t even remember what that passion felt like.

  “Do you ever feel like you’ve forgotten how to be the kind of person who chases her dreams?”

  “Truthfully? Not really. But I’m not a big dreamer. Give me a peaceful afternoon with a good book and I’m happy. But that doesn’t mean the way you feel is wrong.”

  “Yes, it is,” she insisted. “Because it’s all a lie. A giant game of freaking pretend and there’s no magic wand to wave to turn it into a real life.”

  Kelly frowned. “You lost me. Or I’m already drunk.” She eyed the glass in her hand. “This batch is a little strong, isn’t it?”

  Lou shrugged and took another drink. She could use strong today. The last few weeks had been hell on her emotions—a part of her almost wished Jack would go already so she could stop praying for a stay of execution.

  The sliding door whooshed open.

  “Lunch is served.” Jack stood in the opening, carrying a tray piled high with meat and wearing the expression of a conquering hero. Lou felt something tight in her chest loosen at the sight of him—and as soon as she realized it had, her stomach soured.

  That was who she was. The girl who silently adored Jack too much for her own good. The girl who pinned her entire future on the fantasy that someday he would love her back. Jack was right to do the show. She couldn’t be that girl anymore.

  “The Challenges are character tests—do not keep the girls who fail or America will hate you, because you’re a shallow loser who doesn’t care about moral fiber.” Kelly made air quotes around moral fiber, nearly flinging her forkful of pie across the table in the process, and Jack suppressed a grin.

  She’d been giving him tips on how to succeed at Marrying Mister Perfect since he came inside after getting the kids settled on the child-sized backyard picnic table with their hotdogs. He knew he should be paying closer attention—he’d probably kill for this information in the next few weeks—but knowing it would be his last for a while, he just wanted to enjoy the normalcy of this afternoon. Kelly yammering, Peter tipped back in his chair nursing the same beer he’d been peeling the label on for the last hour, and Lou beside him smiling an absent thank you when she glanced around the table, looking for something, and he put the whipped cream canister into her hand without having to be asked.

  Lou’d been quiet all afternoon, but that might just have been a side effect of not being able to get a word in edgewise when Kelly got going.

  “Or, if you really want to keep a girl who fails a test, you have to make a really big deal about second chances and forgiveness and all that crap. And do it in a way that the producers can’t edit out.” Kelly made a face. “There are always some girls who are really horrid cows but beat all the challenges because they’ve watched the show a million times and know what to look for. It’s a shame you won’t be able to see the Suitorettes’ confessional footage. The things some of those girls will admit to on camera. Oi. Do not be one of those idiots, Jack. At all times, you must remember that everything you say can and will be used against you in the court of public opinion.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You should be writing this down.” Kelly frowned.

  “You should write it down,” Jack suggested. “How to Beat Marrying Mister Perfect. Instant bestseller.”

  Kelly’s eyes lit. “I’ll make you a manual! Will you have email when you’re there?”

  “I don’t think so. It sounds like all contact with the outside world is pretty restricted.”

  Small fingers tapping on the glass of the sliding door forestalled whatever Kelly would have said next. Emma squeezed through the opening and padded over to stand at Lou’s side with mustard in her hair and her lower lip shoved out in a pout. “The boys are being mean.”

  “Boys are dumb,” Kelly announced without a second’s hesitation.

  “Hey,” Peter protested mildly.

  Kelly stuck her tongue out at her husband, causing Emma to giggle. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw Lou suppressing a smile. It was a small moment, one of a million little memories of his girls he’d be missing while he was away. His chest tightened.

  Jack shoved his chair back from the table, opening his arms. “Come here, baby. You can help me finish my pie.” Daddy has to be on National television shirtless next week.

  “Really?” Emma didn’t have to be asked twice. She clambered up into his lap, bony elbows jabbing him in every possible soft tissue before she finally settled into place and dug into his pie. Jack looped his arms around her and rested his chin on top of her baby-fine hair.

  He glanced to his left and caught Lou watching them. Her expression was inscrutable—like she was so far down into her own mind none of what she was thinking could make it to the surface. He’d caught that expression on her face a lot lately.

  “Oh!” Kelly burst out suddenly. “The compatibility tests! When they reveal the results to you—I think that’s week four?—there’s always one girl who is like ninety-nine-point-nine percent compatible with you. Keep her. Even if there is no sizzle whatsoever. The ones who ended up picking their most compatible matches as the final winners are the only couples who make it past the first year.”

  “All two of them,” Peter snorted.

  “If anyone scores less than fifty percent compatibility, run, do not walk, away from that chick. The host—Josh Pendleton, so dreamy—always tries to talk Mr. Perfect into keeping one of them, and then she ends up having an on camera meltdown and turning into a stalker by week six. Those internationally renowned matchmakers they brag about know their stuff. Flaunt the compatibility tests at your peril.”

  “What’s a ‘patability test?” Emma piped up.

  “A test of how cuddle-able someone is.” Jack squeezed Emma until she giggled and squirmed. “See? We’re very compatible.”

  Kelly frowned absently, another bite of pie dangling precariously from her waving fork. “You know, they probably had to redo all the compatibility stuff, since you aren’t the guy they originally picked all these girls for. Do you know if they recast any of the women when the astronaut fell through?”

  Jack shrugged. “They don’t tell me anything. I’m just Mr. Perfect.”

  Saying it out loud sounded odd and he realized it was the first time he’d referred to himself that way. Other people had called him that, but to say it about himself felt… wrong.

  “This is so cool,” Kelly gushed as she bounced out of her chair and began clearing the desert plates, oblivious to his sudden discomfort. “I know Mr. Perfect!”

  The last few weeks as he’d fielded dozens of calls about the show, it had always felt like people were referring to someone else when they talked about Mr. Perfect. He’d been disconnected from the role he’d be playing, still Daddy to Emma and TJ, still Jack to Lou, still Dr. Doyle to everyone at the hospital. But starting now he would be Mr. Perfect to a few million people he’d never met. That would be him.

  Jesus. What was he getting himself into?

  Lou’s fingers rested softly on his wrist. “You okay?” she asked, the low question just carrying to his ears.

  And just like that he remembered why he was going. Not so he could stake a claim to fame, relive his bachelor days or “bang a bunch of hot women” as Peter had jokingly suggested earlier, but
to give Lou a chance for the life she deserved. And, yeah, for himself too. He wasn’t a saint. This wasn’t entirely selfless. The show would finally give them both a chance at something that wasn’t temporary.

  A flicker of heady anticipation began to stir in his blood. He’d been all work and no play for a long time. It was impossible not to be excited by the idea of play being his work for the next two months.

  He rolled his hand beneath Lou’s and linked their fingers. “I think it just hit me,” he admitted, smiling wryly. Emma wiggled and resettled herself in his lap, her head tucked against his chest.

  Lou’s hand was warm in his, but her expression was still distant. Already a thousand miles away. “You’ll be great.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Emma! TJ! Come say goodbye. Your father has to catch his flight.”

  Jack handed his carry-on to the limo driver the show had sent and turned back, hovering in the doorway. He waited for the kids to run into his arms, but there was no sound of a thundering herd. Just a pair of voices shouting, “Bye, Dad!” from the living room.

  Lou smiled sympathetically and patted his arm. “You’ve never gone away for more than a day before,” she reminded him. “They don’t understand how long eight weeks is going to be. That doesn’t mean they won’t miss you. And we’ll see you a week from Saturday.”

  “I know.” It was probably easier this way than if they were crying and begging him to stay, but the blithe indifference still stung.

  These couple days he’d been trying to hold onto every second, pack away each memory, but that only seemed to make the time fly faster, the attempt to hold onto the moments like holding a fistful of water. Things had been odd with Lou, too. She’d been distant. Reserved.

  Normally the house echoed with shrieks of laughter, but lately things had been all too quiet. The mood subdued. Last night bath time was somber, story-time eerily silent. He would have written it off as the kids bracing for his absence, but he got the distinct impression they were picking up the mood from Lou.

  He’d known that she was the source of the life in his house, but it had never been drawn in more sharp relief than in the last couple days.

  Growing up, achievement had been held above all else for Jack. His parents had never really latched onto the whole parenting thing, though they’d liked the idea of a legacy. The fact that he would be a doctor was a foregone conclusion—though he was allowed to pick his specialty. He was just lucky it turned out he loved the career that had been chosen for him by the Doctors Doyle at birth.

  It hadn’t been a bad childhood. He hadn’t been unhappy, but his house had never been what he would have described as fun. Jack had wanted things to be different for his kids. And Lou had been a huge part of that.

  And now she was standing away from him, arms wrapped around her middle, holding herself in a way that was intensely self-contained, as if she was afraid to touch him.

  Communication had never really been his strong suit. He wasn’t really excellent at picking up on subtle emotional cues, but even he knew something was different. He didn’t want to go through this crazy TV-show thing without her on his side. Lou was his best friend. His anchor. He needed her.

  He didn’t feel ready for this, but he’d run out of time to gear himself up. In two days he would meet the women among whom the show’s producers hoped would be his perfect match. Until then, his time would be consumed by last minute wardrobe fittings and interviews.

  The adventure started now.

  Even though Jack had never been the type to balk in the face of a challenge, he stalled in the doorway, reluctant to leave. His life had fallen into such a comfortable, familiar routine these last four years and now every second of every day was going to be foreign and new.

  In theory, he still wanted this experience. In reality, he couldn’t make himself walk out the door.

  “Lou…” When she looked up at him, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes. There then gone. “If you change your mind about this, you can tell me anytime you want to pull the plug and it’s over. Just say the word.”

  She ducked her head. Wisps of her hair escaped from her ponytail and hung around her face. He could smell the faint, familiar whiff of her peach shampoo. “We’ll see you next weekend for the first visit. You’ll be so busy you won’t even miss us.”

  “It should be me giving you a pep talk. You’re the one who has to deal with the demolitionist children by yourself.”

  Lou laughed, the sound oddly forced. “Are you kidding? Between Kelly and the grandparents all begging to help out while you’re away, I’ll be lucky if I ever get to see the kids.”

  Hesitation still hovered in the air, along with that sense of distance. Jack caught her hand and Lou lifted startled eyes to his at the contact. “Have I told you how grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us? For everything you’ve done for me?”

  Lou blushed and tucked her chin down, embarrassed as ever by any hint of praise. “You never had to, Jack. I already know.”

  “I should still say it.”

  Lou smiled, but didn’t raise her eyes. “We don’t talk about stuff like that.”

  Jack frowned, realizing the truth in her words. They talked about the kids, about his work, about the broken washing machine or remodeling the kitchen. They talked about what movie to rent or which restaurant to go to. He knew she hated brussel sprouts and liked any movie set in a foreign locale. He knew how she felt about every detail of their day-to-day lives together, but they never talked about the mushy feelings stuff. In the short time since the show had come into their lives, they’d probably talked more about how they felt than they had in the last four years combined.

  It just never seemed to come up. He never said he was grateful, never told her how he would drown without her.

  And she never said she was trapped. But he knew she had to feel trapped.

  So he would go. Find Mrs. Perfect and bring her home to free the perfect friend currently imprisoned in his guest room.

  “Well, maybe we should talk about it,” he said when the silence stretched. “At least once or twice a year.”

  Lou laughed softly and finally looked up to meet his eyes. “I’ll put it on the calendar. You can tell me you appreciate me again in March.”

  Then her smile died. He knew they were both wondering if she would still be living with them in March. Everything could be different by then. Jack shook away the sense of melancholy that thought inspired.

  Everything should be different. Lou deserved her own Mr. Perfect.

  From the porch behind him, the limo driver cleared his throat.

  Jack grimaced. “I guess that’s my cue.”

  He turned to look down at her at the exact moment Lou leaned up to kiss his cheek. They bumped against one another and her lips landed against the corner of his mouth, startling them both. For a second neither moved, frozen in the awkwardness of the accidental almost-kiss.

  Her lips were soft and warm. Not that he’d expected them to be anything else—he’d just never given any thought to Lou’s lips. Now his eyes fell to them and he frowned. How had he gone all these years living with her and never once even thought of kissing Lou? She really did have a very pretty mouth, the full lower lip…

  Lou jerked back, flustered. “I…”

  “Right,” he mumbled, shoving a hand through his hair.

  Awareness sizzled through him, oddly fueled by her awkwardness. They were never awkward with one another. If anything, their curse was that they were too at ease, complacent even.

  That complacency was gone now. Tension crackled like static in the air between them. The curious urge to kiss her, really kiss her, hadn’t entirely gone away.

  Lou wet her lips. Jack tracked the movement with his eyes.

  “Well, have a nice flight!” she said, her voice a little too loud.

  Her sudden cheeriness jarred him out of the odd mood he’d fallen into. He blinked, taking a step away from her, out onto
the porch.

  Where was his brain? He hadn’t actually been about to kiss Lou, had he? Lou, for Christ’s sake.

  “I’ll call every day,” he said, trying to get back on normal footing.

  Her false good cheer faded, her pale blue eyes softening. “We’ll miss you, Jack.”

  “I’ll miss you too.” He closed the distance he’d put between them. Catching her around the shoulders, he pulled her into a bear hug—just like buddies. All he had to do was add a little back thumping and they’d be bros. “You’re the best, Lou. What would I do without you?” he grunted against her peach-scented hair, squeezing her tight.

  Standing there, with the familiar comfort of Lou’s arms wrapped around his waist and her cheek pressed against his heart, the desire to just stay here and forget all about the show returned. When had he turned into such a homebody? When had Lou become such an essential part of each day?

  He couldn’t keep using her this way, relying on her for everything. He had already leaned on her too much.

  She was small, tucked against his front, the top of her head barely clearing his collarbone. Much too small to shoulder all the weight he had put on her over the last four years.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he said softly, though he didn’t loosen his hold on her until she slowly started to pull away. He released her by degrees, his hands sliding down her arms until only their fingers were linked.

  Lou looked up into his eyes, her eyes solemn. “Have fun,” she commanded soberly.

  Jack smiled. “Always.” You taught me how. He stepped off the porch, dragging his feet toward the limo.

  “Jack, wait!”

  Lou’s shout stopped him in his tracks. He turned as she ran down the porch steps, slipping a gold chain from her wrist as she ran. She grabbed his hand and turned it palm up between them, dropping her gold charm bracelet onto his palm and curling his fingers around it. “To remember us by.”

  “I could never forget you, Lou.”

  Her eyes flicked down to the pavers at their feet and there was something so sad in her smile it made his chest ache. “I hope that’s true.”