Chapter Ten
I sat curled up on my couch ripping cherries off the stems and spitting the seeds into a bowl after I masticated the delicious fruit. It was satisfying after the day I’d had. And it helped me keep my emotions under control while I watched Nick’s interview during the late news. I was irritated that they hardly kept a thing Kenadie had said about our company in it. It was obvious that Dana would have liked to pet Nick while she hung on his every word. But come on, Kenadie was a brilliant woman who had written some amazing software. Not only that, but she was successful. That was all skipped over so that Nick was the shining star of the entire thing.
Dana asked him questions like, “So, Nick, tell us what qualities you look for in your ideal woman?” She might as well have asked do I fit into that category?
He responded, “It’s hard to define, as that changes over time and circumstances.” How PC of him. He sounded like a politician who would not be getting my vote.
After that, Dana made a huge deal about the gala tomorrow night since she would be in attendance too, covering it for Channel 15. Oh joy. Another thing I didn’t like was that she made it all about her instead of what that event supported.
The only decent thing to come out of the interview was when she asked Nick why out of all the matchmaking services available he chose Binary Search. I will admit to liking his response: “After doing my homework, I liked the personalized attention Binary Search gives their clients, as well as the intuitive software that is used in the process. No other service does what they do.”
I clicked off the TV and threw the remote next to me. I leaned my head back against my chenille tweed couch and sighed. I couldn’t believe I had to endure more of that man over my weekend. The arrogant man who offered to have his assistant in LA call me for my measurements so he could have a gown delivered to me. What? Was that a thing? I declined. I could pick out my own clothes, thank you very much. And if he thought that would impress me, he was going to be disappointed. All that said to me was he was only thinking about himself. That the way I looked reflected on him. If I wasn’t representing Binary Search and I had enough guts to show up in something outlandish, I would contemplate it for the sake of knocking him down a notch or two. He’d probably just have someone escort me out.
I remembered Douglas picking out my clothes for me whenever I attended his lectures. At first, I thought it was sweet. He did it under the guise of buying me a present. For too long I was so taken by the older, debonair visiting professor on the lecture circuit for ancient Egyptian studies that I fell for everything he said or did. He only wanted me to look a certain part. I needed to look worthy to be his girlfriend and then his wife. He saw someone he could mold, and he was right. I gave him so much power and he abused it. Never again could I allow that to happen. It was part of the reason I sat at home alone on a Friday night.
I knew I needed to find a happy medium, someone I could trust enough to be vulnerable around, knowing that they wouldn’t be perfect. They would hurt me, and I them. It was inevitable and human. But I wanted—needed—to do all I could to make sure they were worthy of the risk and that they would take every care not to hurt me. I would do the same for them. So I had my rules in place and a list of warning signs. Things I wished I would have had ten years ago. My parents said I was young and I should cut myself some slack. After all, they fell for Douglas’s intellectual and charming persona that he knew how and when to portray. It wasn’t all that comforting. I was still embarrassed by it. Not by my parents. No. My gullibility.
Lingering embarrassment meant I had never worn the beautiful black gown in my closet. I bought it for a weekend reunion last year in New York with some of my girlfriends from graduate school. The women who were there when I found out my “husband” was a bigamist, making him a felon, and I was pregnant with his child. All this before my twenty-fifth birthday. It was a titillating tale that had gotten around the university. Right in the middle of it all, I miscarried. My girlfriends were fantastic, supportive women, even if a couple made comments like at least you won’t be tied to him forever now. It was true, but I wanted my baby. The sound of my baby’s heartbeat was the most beautiful sound in the world. It carried me through some of my darkest days and reminded me there were good things to come. That something beautiful would come out of the ugly. Its absence was deafening and devastating.
Like a coward, I couldn’t face them last year. I didn’t want Douglas to come up in conversation. And they were all married now, with at least one child. Meanwhile, I helped people get what I wanted. I was happy to help, truly I was. If only I could help myself.
At least I knew better than to be taken in by Nick Wells, even if sometimes my body forgot. We can’t help who we are attracted to, but we can control our behaviors. Believe me, I planned on keeping a tight rein on my natural desires for him. It was all biology. And though some small part of the Nicholas Wells fangirl still resided deep inside me, it didn’t mean I couldn’t overcome it or think rationally when I saw him in a tux tomorrow night. I wouldn’t be the woman who used to watch every awards show he was part of back in the day so I could drool over him.
I patted my copy of The Science of Why Good Girls Love Bad Boys that was tucked up next to me. I had been refreshing my memory earlier of what it was that drew women to men like Nick and why we shouldn’t engage with them. I had to remind myself to separate attraction from what I really desired. I wanted someone who was confident, but not arrogant. And we as women seemed to be attracted to this ride-off-into-the-sunset sort of guy. I was guilty of this too. But what we truly wanted was someone who would be there to watch each sunset with us. To top it off, I had to be extra careful this time of the month since I was ovulating. My ovaries would lie to me in a heartbeat about Nick and make me think the sexy cad would be an amazing dad and partner. Well . . . he did appear to be an amazing father already.
That was an aspect of him I couldn’t put my finger on.
That was okay—he had so many other things going against him in my rule book, it didn’t matter. And it’s not like he wanted anything to do with me other than amusing himself. I was only making sure I didn’t do anything I would regret or be ashamed of, like ogling him in his tux.
I needed sleep and a pair of dark shades, you know, just in case my eyes wandered.
~*~
Though it was a muggy July morning, I walked the mile to my parents’ place. Walking soothed me, and I needed all the help I could get today. I took deep, cleansing breaths while I admired all the large trees fit to burst with greenery and the variety of flowers in each yard. My favorite were the hydrangeas. Several people were out mowing their lawns, trying to beat the heat of the day. Still, sweat could be seen pouring off them. I too was a little sticky, even with only running shorts and a tank top on. It was summertime in Georgia and I loved it. I’d known after I graduated that I would never live in cold weather again. I was a warm weather girl. Besides, I loved this community. There was something safe and secure about it.
Before I knew it, I was in front of my parents’ two-story brick home with plantation shutters. We moved there when I was twelve. It looked the same, except the trees were taller and the climbing roses my mom had planted back in her horticultural experiment days were overtaking a good portion of the front of the house. Pink blooms could be seen all over. Dad wasn’t all that thrilled with the maintenance of it all, but Mom insisted they stay. Something about them being a moderator of emotional health.
I skipped up the brick path and only tapped on the door before I walked right in. “Mom, Dad,” I called out into the two-story foyer while I shook my head at all the plastic tarps covering the furniture and the lingering smell of sawdust. I didn’t even want to know what Dad was up to now.
Mom came walking down the large staircase to the right of the entryway, dressed in a yellow muumuu with her spiky pewter hair sticking up like a crown surrounded by a bright cloth headband. She grimaced at the mess Dad had made before acknowledging me.
“There’s my Katie.” My parents were the only people who called me Katie. Her arms were open wide, making her look like a muumuu tent.
I move forward to hug her as soon as she finished descending the steps.
Instead of hugging me, she took a minute to look over me. “Your auras are all over the place this morning.”
Oh no. Here we go.
“You have some muddy orange right about here.” She was pointing to the thin air around me. “You must be worried.” She moved her hands all over my body without touching me. “And red, lots of it, and there is some of your usual pink in there.” A smile played on her well-preserved face. I hoped I inherited those genes. “You’re obviously ovulating and . . . attraction is rolling off you like a freight train. Care to tell your mother what that’s all about?”
I hugged her before she could say anything else. “Hi, Mom.”
She patted my back. “You don’t want to talk about it.”
I gave her one more good squeeze. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
“Honey, you can’t fool your mom; you have some major sexual tension vibes coming off you.”
I backed away and waved her off. No sexual tension here. Nope, nada, zilch.
Dad could be heard walking in from the garage. “Stella, do you know what happened to my drill?”
Mom rolled her eyes before he came into view. “Glenn, our daughter’s here.” She didn’t answer his question. Why did I think she had something to do with that missing drill?
My once put together, wear a dress shirt and dress pants every day to his chiropractic clinic dad, was now wearing overalls, and his gray hair was about a month past a haircut. He’d also gained a little weight around his midsection. But his smile for me was as big and bright as it always was. Though his brown eyes told another story. They were subdued. “There’s my girl.”
“Hey, Dad.” I met him in the hall that led to the kitchen and hugged him as well.
“You’re tense,” he remarked.
“It’s sexual tension,” Mom said like it was a fact.
Dad pulled away and I wasn’t sure if he thought that was good news. On one hand he looked hopeful, on the other he looked like most dads who didn’t want to think of their daughters in that sort of way. I knew both my parents worried I would never find anyone again.
“I’m not seeing anyone,” I let them down.
Or maybe not. Mom’s face lit up like she remembered something. “We saw on the news last night that Nicholas Wells is using Binary Search. Why didn’t you tell us?”
I walked back toward the kitchen to get a drink of water. “I’m not allowed to discuss our clients. Except . . . well . . .”
“Well?” Mom was salivating. “Does he know you slept with a poster of him above your bed in college?”
I whipped my head around. “No. And he never will.” I had been trying to forget about the shirtless poster of him leaning against a red Ferrari. Great, now I was going to have that image in my head.
“Honey, don’t whip your head around like that. It’s not good for you.” Dad was ever the chiropractor. I had him to thank for my good posture.
Before I could reach for a glass in the cupboard near the faucet, Mom was already getting me one. “Don’t drink the tap water. I made some strawberry, cucumber, lime, and mint-infused water. It will help with your tension.”
“Do you still have a crush on him?” Dad asked.
“Of course not.” I was too old for crushes. “He’s well . . . he’s just . . .” I suppose I shouldn’t bad mouth him. It was probably against the NDA I’d signed.
“He’s what?” Mom handed me a colorful ice-cold glass of water.
“Thank you.” I took the glass and downed half of it.
Mom studied me. “What are you not telling us?”
I set my glass on the island, inhaled, then let it out in a pathetic exhale. “I have to attend some charity event with him tonight.”
Mom clapped her hands together and brought them up to her face like this was a dream come true for her. “You have a date with him? This explains your aura.”
I shook my head with vigor. “Mom, I can’t date our clients. I’m going as a representative for Binary Search. Besides, even if I could, I would never date him.”
Her hands fell, along with a long sigh. “Which of your rules does he break?”
“All of them.” Well, almost all of them, but that didn’t need to be articulated.
A look passed between my parents. It was like I united them in worry. I suppose I should be happy that at least they weren’t bickering.
Mom rubbed the gemstone chrysocolla that hung around her neck and closed her eyes. She believed chrysocolla gave her wisdom.
Dad held onto the nearest counter, bracing himself for what Mom would say. He wasn’t a big believer in the healing powers of crystals and gemstones. Neither was I. And Mom probably wouldn’t be in a few months, but you never knew. This particular “hobby” had stuck around for the last couple of years.
I was good with it until she held the gemstone between us. “Here, honey, rub it with me and breathe in and out slowly.”
I caught my dad’s amused expression. “Let her be, Stella,” he jumped in on my behalf.
Mom didn’t take kindly to it. In slow motion she turned around, no doubt giving him a stare to be afraid of. “I’m only trying to help her gain wisdom and visualize how a life living outside the rules would bring her happiness and how Nicholas Wells may play a part.”
I stepped back, stunned. “What does he have to do with anything?”
She did the air-hand-wave-thing again all over my body. “His presence is flooding your aura like never before. I really need to see you two together. Do you think he could swing by here with you tonight before the charity event?”
What in the world was she talking about? “No, Mom. For one, I’m meeting him there.” Which, for some reason, seemed to disgruntle him. He’d offered to pick me up after the whole I’ll have a gown sent to you, but I declined. Unfortunately, he pushed the issue, forcing me to tell him that I only allowed a man to pick me up if we’d had two successful dates. Talk about a strange stare. No doubt he thought I was odd.
“Did you invoke rule ten on him?” Mom had numbered my rules.
I reached for her hands and held them. “I. Can’t. Date. Him.” I needed to say each word, slow and succinctly. “Actually, it’s my job to pick his dates.”
Both my parents looked confused.
“I can’t really go into detail, but I’m his relationship manager.”
Mom squeezed my hands. “All I know is something is off, but . . . right with you. Almost as if your subconscious has identified your soulmate.”
I dropped her hands. “I don’t believe in soulmates.” You make your soulmate, you don’t find them. To think otherwise was dangerous and caused more relationship problems than it helped.
“People used to believe the earth was flat. We can’t always be right. Not even you,” Mom quipped.
Believe me, I knew how wrong I could be.