Marrying Mister Perfect Read online

  For a second there, he’d almost kissed her.

  Lou stood in the open doorway and watched the limo depart, watching the street long after it was gone. Some of the neighbors had come out to see their resident celebrity head off to Hollywood and Lou waved back when they called out greetings to her. The kids were inside, engrossed in some game one of the camera guys had taught them involving dares and shouting numbers. She wasn’t entirely sure of the rules, so they could probably figure out a way to use it to burn down the house and she should probably get back in there, but at the moment she couldn’t make her feet move.

  He was really gone.

  She’d made herself smile as he was leaving. It was for the best. She just kept telling herself that her still-beating heart wasn’t being ripped out of her chest. All for the best.

  She’d panicked when her attempt to kiss him on the cheek had almost hit his mouth. Would he think she was coming on to him? Would he have to let her down easy? Would he pity her for her feelings for him? Feelings he could never return?

  She’d been so relieved when he’d hugged her—a nice, normal hug. She’d tucked her cheek against his chest and looped her arms around his waist. For a second, standing there, hugging the man of her dreams, she’d stopped lying to herself with thoughts of for the best and I just want his happiness. Instead, she held on tight and listened for the sound of her heart breaking.

  You’re the best, Lou. What would I do without you?

  The words echoed, taunting.

  What would she do without him?

  She walked, zombielike to the kitchen, where all she could do was sit and wonder was if it would even be her kitchen in six months time. Who would be baking Emma’s muffins then?

  Two months filming, one month post-production, three months airing and then poof. The end of her life as she knew it.

  At least she’d have plenty of time to get used to the idea. To make plans. Get started on who she was going to be.

  She could start dating—even if the idea gave her heartburn. She’d tried eHarmony once, and even gone on a few dates, but they hadn’t been Jack. And they definitely hadn’t understood that she didn’t want to leave him. A guy didn’t want to start a relationship with a girl who already had a family and refused to leave it.

  Which was the exact same situation she’d be in for the next few months. Emma and TJ would need her more than ever while Jack was gone. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to date anyway. Maybe she should take some time away, get some distance—both figuratively and literally—before she tested out her heart.

  A few months in Europe didn’t sound like a bad idea. She had some savings, since Jack insisted on paying her a monthly stipend and all her living expenses were covered. She could afford the trip she’d always dreamed of taking—but she was afraid to even think of beginning to plan it. It seemed like every time she seriously thought about leaving, some disaster struck to keep her here. The floods in high school. Her mother’s cancer when she was supposed to be studying abroad—thank God in remission now. And then Gillian’s death when she’d had that job offer in Paris.

  She’d never told Jack about that job.

  It was long gone now. She wasn’t sure she knew how to be that person anymore anyway. Adventurous Lou—who always seemed to invite disaster when she tried to take an adventure.

  Though maybe this time the disaster had come first. She’d lost Jack. He was off to be Mister Perfect.

  Of course he was. Lou had known he was perfect from the second they met.

  The memory of the first time she saw Jack stood out in her mind like a scene from a movie—or a set-up for the TV show—crisper than real recollections should be. He’d walked into the Latin classroom with his girlfriend, laughing, arm-in-arm, and both of them radiating the same confidence and charm. From that first instant, Lou had seen they fit together, but she hadn’t envied them their picture perfection. She’d just wanted to study it, admire it like she would a particularly striking portrait.

  It was outside her world.

  He was going to be valedictorian, a year ahead of her in school, star of the soccer team—a sport that wouldn’t threaten a surgeon’s hands—and dating Dana Wright, the pretty, effervescent girl who starred in all the school shows. So of course he’d been out of bounds.

  He shouldn’t have noticed her at all, but Lou had helped with costumes on the school’s production of Grease and Dana was genuinely nice. The kind of girl who remembered people, made them feel special. She’d introduced Jack to Lou before rushing off to get to her own class on time.

  And he’d smiled.

  He’d stepped forward, out of their perfect two-some tableau, and extended his hand to her. He’d asked her what she was reading, probably more out of politeness than curiosity, but when she’d answered he hadn’t just nodded and wandered off. He’d probed deeper. And the more he asked, the less he seemed like a portrait to be studied and the more like a guy. A nice guy.

  By the time class started, Lou had resigned herself to having a silly crush on the glorious unattainable guy.

  The high school Latin class was small—only twelve students, and they often found themselves studying together. Lou was taking it to help her with her language classes and Jack because his father thought it would help him in Med School. They could have just been classmates, but somehow they’d become friends.

  Of course their relationship had instantly settled into a purely platonic place. He was taken, and he was completely uninterested in Lou on anything resembling a romantic level, but that just seemed to give her permission to relax around him. He dated Dana Wright and Lane Chang, but he confided in her.

  He’d gone to Northwestern the following year, enrolled in the combined bachelors/M.D. program there. He’d thrown himself into his studies, but thanks to email and Facebook, they never really lost touch—and she never really lost her crush.

  She’d been a senior at the University of Chicago, studying French, Chinese and Arabic when Jack had invited her for dinner out of the blue. She’d broken up with her one serious college boyfriend the previous year during the strain of her mom’s cancer treatment and though she’d told herself her school girl crush was long-since dead, it resurrected itself with a vengeance as she prepared for their dinner together.

  A thousand scenarios had played out in her head. She wasn’t expecting him to drop down on one knee or anything, but a little making out was definitely on the table. This was the moment when the nature of their relationship would change. She could feel it.

  Then she’d shown up at the restaurant and Jack hadn’t been alone.

  He’d never been very good at communication.

  He’d forgotten to mention that he wanted to have dinner with her so he could introduce her to his girlfriend. Gillian Elton-Weiss.

  She was a sorority girl from Northwestern, pretty in a flashy, undeniable way, whereas Lou had always thought her own appeal was more subtle. Or, you know, invisible.

  Jack had always wanted to be a doctor and Gillian came from a wealthy Chicago family that organized fund-raisers for half the private hospitals in the state. Match made in heaven.

  Lou hadn’t even been surprised when she heard three months later that Gillian had gotten knocked up and there was an emergency wedding planned. She might have cried a little the night before the wedding, but she’d smiled the next morning from the pews, beaming so hard she felt her face would split, trying to force herself to be happy for Jack.

  And then she hadn’t had to force herself.

  TJ was born and he was a tiny little miracle.

  Jack would meet her for brunch in the city sometimes, bringing the baby so Gillian could have a break, and Lou would fuss over him, adoring every tiny, squidgy inch. Somehow with TJ there, she hadn’t pined or envied. She’d become Jack’s pal, his confidant, and eventually his best friend again.

  When Gillian got pregnant again, she’d been genuinely happy for him—even as she listened to his fears about how he was e
ver going to pay off his med school loans and the mortgage on the house they’d just bought and put away for two college educations without asking his father for money because he refused to break down and ask for money. His life had seemed set.

  Then Gillian had died so suddenly, giving birth to Emma. Jack had needed her and Lou hadn’t thought twice.

  She moved in with him at first because she couldn’t imagine not helping him when he needed her. She had never meant to take Gillian’s place—she knew she couldn’t even if she wanted to. And she hadn’t wanted to. Gillian had been the life of the party, but Lou had always felt uncomfortable as the center of attention. They were so different and Lou had always been happy to be herself—even though she’d known it would mean she would never be Jack’s type. The man who fell for Gillian clearly wasn’t the man for Lou.

  But living with him, day to day, that initial crush had come back with a vengeance, sneaking up on her during quiet nights curled up in front of a movie or in the shared laughter at the dinner table.

  Lou had let herself forget that they didn’t have a real relationship. They weren’t married and she wasn’t Emma and TJ’s mom. Filling those roles every day, Lou had latched onto the illusion that they were a real family. That they were hers. Some days she even let herself think he might love her back, just a little.

  That life may have been an illusion, but it hurt to have it stripped away. Especially if it was only going to be replaced by another illusion constructed by reality television producers.

  But it was too late now. He was gone. And she was lost.

  Chapter Nine

  From the second Jack left Lou, reality stepped out of his life.

  A limo to the airport, a first class seat to Los Angeles, another limo picking him up and whisking him away (as much as anyone could be whisked in LA traffic) to a luxurious mansion on a hill overlooking the lights of the city—his home for the next six weeks.

  One of the ubiquitous producers met him at the door and rapidly introduced him to the house’s staff—butler, chef, and maid, all of whom would be strictly off-camera—before taking him on a tour that probably broke the land speed record. While they power-walked through the maze of rooms clearly designed for every possible entertainment—screening room, bowling alley, indoor and outdoor pools—the producer rattled off his schedule for the next few days. It didn’t sound like he would have a second to himself.

  Peppered in with the flood of planned activities, the producer seemed to delight in dropping hints about the Suitorettes who would start arriving the next day. Jack was under strict instructions not to sneak over to the adjacent Suitorette Mansion until after he had officially met each of the girls on camera—but the producer didn’t seem to have any hesitation about dropping hints about who he would be meeting.

  Apparently the show had scored quite a coup, landing one mildly famous model, a D-list actress, a former Miss America, and a popular romance author for this season. There were also, he was informed, two doctors, one lawyer, and a PR executive in the lot—just in case he preferred the businessy types. But if he wanted a more maternal sort, he didn’t have to worry. Among the initial thirty candidates were no less than four pre-school and kindergarten teachers—all cute as a button and quite lively—and two single mothers. But since he’d expressed an interest in adventure, the show’s producers had secured a few adrenaline junkies—including an extreme sports star.

  The more the producer gushed, the more Jack wondered what the hell he was doing here.

  As soon as the producer slipped out—with a final suggestion that he enjoy the hot tub, since tonight would be his last chance to enjoy it alone, wink, wink—Jack took the stairs two at a time up to his bedroom where the maid had already unpacked his things. He grabbed the phone off the nightstand and dialed his home number.

  As he listened to it ring, he remembered the time difference and hoped he wasn’t waking up the entire house.

  “Hello?”

  The sound of Lou’s voice sent a flood of relief through him. “Is it too late to call?”

  “Jack! I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.” Her delight coursed through her line, bringing a smile to his face. She sounded as frazzled by the separation as he was. “It’s definitely not too late, though the kids are asleep.”

  “Good. It’s nice to know bedtime didn’t get thrown out the window the second I left town.”

  She gave a soft laugh and he reveled in the sound.

  “It’s all ice cream for dinner and jumping on the furniture around here without you,” she teased.

  “I miss all the good stuff,” he mock-grumbled, loving the easy banter, the removal of that distance that had plagued them for the last couple days.

  “I’m sure they have you on a strict no-ice-cream diet until after all the shirtless shots are in the can.”

  Jack laughed. He climbed onto the massive California King bed, stacked pillows and reclined against them, the phone pressed to his ear. “You aren’t far off,” he admitted. “There’s a private chef here to make sure I’m eating healthy. And a maid who hung up all my shirts.”

  Lou groaned. “That isn’t reality. Those poor girls are going to be suckered in by your spotless house. It’ll be quite a shock when they realize what a slob you are when you don’t have a maid picking up after you.”

  “Hey, I’m not a slob.”

  “Excuse me, but as someone who has never seen your bedroom floor without a layer of dirty laundry on it, I beg to differ.”

  “Laundry isn’t a mess. It’s clothes. Most of ‘em are clean.”

  “Just because you can’t smell it from across the room doesn’t make it clean.”

  Jack closed his eyes, soothed by the normalcy of their conversation. They could have been goading one another from opposite sides of the couch in his living room instead of half a country apart. It was exactly what he’d needed so he could feel at home.

  “So, other than the maid, anything newsworthy happening?”

  “The house is insane. Wait till you come visit. The kids are going to go nuts in the pool.”

  “I’ll make sure we pack the water wings.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Then, after a slight hesitation, she went on. “When do you meet the girls?”

  “Wednesday night. They’re flying in from all over the world.”

  “I was talking to Kelly today. She says you shouldn’t keep any of them around just because they kiss you on the first night. She says that’s a sure sign of a tramp who’s just using the show for publicity.”

  He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind. Kelly’s the expert.”

  “She really is making you a Marrying Mr. Perfect instruction manual to help you pick a keeper. I’m under orders to bring a working draft with me when I come next weekend. And I’m supposed to relay instructions to you until then so you don’t pick a lemon.”

  “I could use all the help I can get.” Jack settled deeper into the pillow, closing his eyes and concentrating on the familiarity of her voice. “Just give me the game plan, coach.”

  They talked into the night, like they often did at home. All that was missing was their scarred kitchen table and a couple mugs of decaf.

  It didn’t even occur to him until he hung up the phone hours later that he had spent the first night of his new adventure trying to feel like he was still back home.

  Jack stood in a beautiful stone courtyard, sweating in a three-piece-suit and viselike shoes. He yanked at his collar, trying to loosen the noose-like tie and a production assistant detached from the crewpeople clustered at the other side of the courtyard.

  She scurried over to him and jerked the tie back to quasi-asphyxiation tightness before pulling out a compact and dabbing at his temples with pancake make-up. “You’re sweating a lot,” she commented cheerfully. “Nerves?”

  “It’s eighty-five degrees and I’m wearing wool. Sweat is inevitable.”

  “It’s a wool blend, actually,” she corrected in the same irritatingly chi
pper tone. “Don’t worry. The Suitorette mansion is air-conditioned down to about fifty degrees so all the girls will be suitably perky and inclined to cuddle up to you. And the forecast says it’ll cool off by midnight, so by the time we’re back out here for the Elimination Ceremony you’ll be grateful for the jacket. And not to worry, we’ll have space heaters for the girls in the slinky dresses. It really slows production when we have to bring in the docs to treat for frostbite.” She grinned.

  Jack didn’t think she was kidding. He decided he wasn’t touching most of that statement and focused on the most ominous part. “This is going to last past midnight?” It was barely dusk. His feet were going to be bloody from these damn shoes within the hour.

  “First night’s always an all-nighter.” She gave his forehead sweat one last pat and tucked the pancake away. “If you’re feeling drowsy, we’ve got Red Bull by the bucket. Just give a wave and we’ll bring you one. We strongly advise against alcohol on the first night, at least for you. Though you can have one to calm your nerves if you need it. The girls will be drinking, of course, but we want our Mr. Perfect to have a clear head as much as possible tonight.”

  He’d worked his share of all-nighters at the hospital, but he had a feeling tonight was going to be more exhausting than his ER rotation.

  Miranda clacked across the courtyard, ubiquitous tablet in hand. “Sexy Jack! I think we’re about set inside. Are you ready to meet the girl of your dreams and begin the journey to your happily ever after?”

  “Absolutely.” Jack forced a smile and a degree of enthusiasm he couldn’t make himself feel.

  “Excellent!” Miranda beamed. She seemed genuinely happy today. High on the excitement of the show’s launch or maybe she’d crushed a third world country this morning on her quest to world domination. “I know we’ve been over this a million times and Josh will be going over everything with you step by step, but just to refresh, our host Josh Pendleton will greet you out here then escort you inside where each of the girls has been set up in a room that represents them in some way—musical girls will have a piano, that sort of thing. They get one minute—exactly sixty seconds, and we will be counting—to impress you and then it’s off to the next room. No dawdling, no matter how they tempt you!” she giggled. “This part of the show is all about first impressions. Like speeddating on steroids. Your job is just to live in the moment and enjoy yourself. And remember not to look at or refer to the cameras, okay? We’re going to be as unobtrusive as possible, with only one camera following you and a three-man set-up in the rooms with the girls. And don’t you worry, they’ll give you plenty of space.”