Chapter Seven
My head pounded so much I almost took my emergency stash of over-the-counter pain reliever, but both of my parents’ voices sounded off in my head. My chiropractor dad would be telling me I only needed to be adjusted and my . . . well, I wasn’t sure what my mom was, perhaps naturalist covered it for this week. She had been everything from a massage therapist to a henna tattoo artist to a professional snuggler. You wouldn’t believe what people were willing to pay for that service. Dad put his foot down on that one after only a few clients. I’m pretty sure some people wanted to do more than snuggle. Despite her new hobby/job-of-the-month, she was adamantly against the “poison,” as she referred to it, sold at the store.
To please my parents who weren’t present, I did a few stretches to relieve the tension before reaching for the peppermint oil. My ibuprofen would stay on standby. While I rubbed diluted peppermint oil into my temples, I continued my research on Nicholas Wells. I’d decided I needed to dig a little deeper into his background before I chose any candidates for him. Plenty of our clients were calling or messaging their relationship managers, jumping at the chance to be paired with him. There were going to be a lot of disappointed women, perhaps including the one he got paired with when she found out that prince charming was brooding, arrogant, and rude.
I knew some women found that attractive and challenging, especially when it came in such a beautiful package, not to mention a wealthy and famous one. My favorite nonfiction book, The Science Behind Why Good Girls Love Bad Boys, detailed why as women we were so prone to love the Nicholas Wellses of the world. It was basically biology. Successful, handsome men like Nick screamed I’ll give you strong offspring, but with rational thinking the urge to mate with such men or engage with them in any way, shape, or form, could be overcome. If only that book had come out earlier, think of the heartache it could have prevented. Now I read it religiously, like some people read their bible. I’d even loaned it out a few times and recommended it to patients. I credited that book with helping me formulate my rules and saving me from another Douglas.
I wondered if Kenadie would allow me to give each potential Nick date a copy. Probably not. Maybe I would casually start leaving my copy out on my desk whenever I evaluated clients. And if someone asked about it, it wouldn’t hurt to tell them. It was a plan.
Back to Nick and my yogurt. I was eating lunch at my desk so I could squeeze in more time to research him and his victims—er, dates. Who knew, maybe my initial assessment of him was wrong. I rubbed my temples some more.
I focused my research on the last ten to eleven years of his life, since the end of On the Edge. Personally, he was a single dad awarded full custody of Skye. From my brief interaction with them, it appeared they had a strong bond. I had to admit how sweet it was that he was making tampon runs, even going back to get the right kind. It appeared he kept her out of the spotlight as much as possible and even sued a couple of tabloids for taking pictures of her. I could respect that.
On the other hand, he didn’t lack for female companionship. Several pictures and stories popped up with him and a slew of different women. He didn’t have a type, per se, unless you counted gorgeous. He was interested in blondes, redheads, and brunettes. They were skinny, curvy, tall, and short. But each dazzled on his arm or when they were kissing for the cameras. To think I used to want that to be me.
He had never remarried. One article rumored he and Gisele Starr, a young starlet, were engaged a few years ago. He broke up with her, though it wasn’t clear why. Maybe because she didn’t look old enough to drive his daughter to school. That was judgmental of me. I’m sure the party girl was lovely. I mean, those pictures of her flipping off the camera and holding bottles of booze were precious. Exactly what every dad should want in a stepmother. I tilted my head to check out her physical assets. Wow. Her legs went on for miles, and if those were her real boobs I was impressed. I looked down at my size 34B chest. It was nothing to be ashamed of.
The moral of the story was Nick loved beautiful women in all sorts of shapes and sizes. That wasn’t a surprise, based on his questionnaire. When asked if he had any preferences, he said the hotter the better, like some college frat boy. Except for some reason, I couldn’t even imagine him saying the word hotter; it didn’t fit any interview I had ever seen of him or the few times I’d been in his presence. I would at least give him that; he didn’t speak like a Neanderthal. Even in the couple of interviews I’d just clicked on—he was discussing one of the charities he was involved in that supported the spouses and children of fallen police officers—he had spoken eloquently, even passionately. I dug more into that aspect.
I was surprised to find several articles about his involvement in supporting law enforcement and our military. Why didn’t he put any of this information on his questionnaire? I had to smile when he spoke of how proud he was to have a father who served in the navy. But then I switched back to his recently-out-of-puberty alleged ex-fiancée. I couldn’t reconcile the two. Throw in my evaluation and interactions with him, and he had me reaching for the ibuprofen.
I moved on to his professional life.
He was in a couple of short-lived TV shows after On the Edge. They each failed to capture the magic of the show that had made him famous. I remember watching the shows and hoping they would be as good. I’d needed something at that time of my life to help me cope with the crumbling world around me. Not only had I found out that I was married to a man illegally and my marriage was considered void and would be annulled, but I’d miscarried at fourteen weeks. Late for a miscarriage. While I was grieving the loss of my baby and the man I thought I loved, I had to prove that I had no knowledge of his wife who lived in Maryland to avoid being charged with the crime of bigamy as well. Not even my crush on Nicholas Wells could comfort me. And honestly, the shows were lackluster. Those new characters, one being a TV lawyer and the other an emergency room doctor, had nothing on Talon Fox. The magic was gone, and so was he from the spotlight. I moved on from my fantasy in both my real life and the make-believe world of Nicholas Wells. Well, mostly. I still ached for my baby. I didn’t suppose that would ever go away.
He didn’t disappear from Hollywood, but he took on a different role behind the scenes. Like Skye had mentioned last night, he was a producer now. According to my search, he owned a production company with a man named Simon Wilder. The name of the company was, get this, Wilder than Wells. Kind of catchy. I wondered if there was a double meaning there. Not only was Nicholas a producer, but a writer. I was shocked to see he had written and produced one of my favorite romantic comedies a few years ago, A Step Up. It was a cleverly written movie about an unlikely relationship involving a stepbrother and stepsister. They didn’t grow up together, but had been best friends before their parents took the plunge. It was quirky and witty and now I wanted to watch it again. How did I not know he wrote the screenplay for that? Probably because I was no longer a fangirl. And once again, why didn’t he mention any of these things on his questionnaire?
I stared at the picture of him front and center on my screen. Who are you Nicholas Wells? And why are you using Binary Search?
A knock on my office door had me clicking out of my browser. “Come in,” I called.
Zander appeared on the other side still looking shell-shocked at his impending fatherhood. Yesterday he had kept to himself in his own office, coming in late and leaving early.
“Have you chosen the three candidates for Nick you want to present tomorrow in our connection meeting?” he asked.
Zander had revamped the way we did connection meetings, especially since we had so many new relationship managers. Zander might come off as a laissez-faire sort of guy, but he was anything but when it came to business or his personal life. Not that he didn’t like to have his fair share of fun and banter, but he was well organized and savvy. Meg even mentioned how pristine he kept his place, now their place. I wondered if he knew how messy babies were. Zander now asked everyone to send him their clients and choices on Thursday so he could review them before the meeting. Another thing about Zander was his uncanny and innate ability to “get” someone. He was the best relationship manager the company had ever had; his wife was a close second. Maybe that’s why they worked. They “got” each other.
Maybe he could help.
“I’m working on it, but I’m . . . confused.”
Zander tilted his head.
“Can I ask you what you think of Nick?”
Zander stepped in and closed the door. I knew it was because he didn’t want anyone to hear us discussing our famous client. “I told you, I think he’s a player.”
“With the number of women he’s dated, that could be true, but . . .”
“But what? How did your client date with him go?”
I sighed. “Well, it didn’t technically happen.”
Zander took a seat in front of my desk as if he knew this might take a while. I gave him a brief overview, leaving out me walking away in a pouty huff and the fact he walked me home, or dancing with his dad. Basically, I dumbed it way down, but enough to give him valid reasons for my confusion.
Zander leaned back in his seat. “People always tell you who they are, even if they are trying to hide it.”
That was actually insightful and true. “Do you think he’s trying to hide something?”
“We all are.”
Who was the psychologist here?
“You’re not helping me.” I grinned.
He gave me his signature Zander smirk. “You’re intuitive. Listen to that, and if all else fails, give him what he’s asked for. He told you on paper and verbally what he’s looking for. If that’s not really what he wants, that’s his problem, not ours. Hell, I’d be happy if he decided to break his contract with us. But Kenz knows what she’s doing and she’s right, this is a smart business move. Don’t forget this is probably business for him too.”
Huh. That was a thought. “Do you think he’s trying to revive his acting career?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised. He kills two birds with one stone this way. He gets exposure and chicks to date who have already had mental evaluations and background checks.”
“You think this is a just a ploy of his?”
Zander shook his head. “No way. Kenadie would never allow anyone to use our services who didn’t take it seriously.”
I raised my eyebrows—that was how she met her husband.
Zander read my reaction correctly. “She didn’t know about Jason’s motivation for using our services. I don’t have Kenadie’s scruples.”
That was true, but I didn’t voice it. “But what if he ends up hurting someone, or worse, it turns into a publicity nightmare and it’s my fault because I chose wrong? Or because he really is a narcissist and I gave him a pass because of who he is?”
“Why do women worry so much?”
I was sure that was a rhetorical question.
Zander rubbed his hands together as if he was getting down to business. “Listen, first of all, he’s not looking for you to pair him for life and neither are the women you are going to pair him with. Find someone who likes to play the game as much as his profile says he does. We don’t offer people guaranteed happily ever after’s here. We offer them a chance, a better one than they would have on their own. And for people in Nick’s category, we are offering a ‘safer’ environment. We can’t remove every risk. No one can. Second,” he flashed a sardonic smile, “you don’t know for sure he’s a narcissist, and even if he is, that doesn’t mean he’s a sociopath.”
I nodded in agreement. What he was saying was all true and I knew it, but sometimes you needed someone to regurgitate it back to you. “This was helpful. Thank you.”
Zander didn’t make a move to leave. Instead, he ran his hands through his chestnut hair and uncharacteristically shifted in his seat. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
“Not at all.”
He didn’t say anything right away.
I let him gather his thoughts. I was pretty sure what he wanted to discuss.
He had a hard time meeting my eyes. “You know about Meg . . . and me . . .”
“You’re having a baby,” I tried to help him out.
His eyes met mine. “At the end of February,” he said like it was not far enough away.
“How’s Meg feeling?”
He tossed his head from side to side. “She’s stubborn, so she’s faking it. I think for my benefit, which is why I want to talk to you. Get a professional opinion.”
I gave him a warm smile to let him know I was listening.
“I think Meg is under the impression I’m not happy about the—” he swallowed, “baby, so she doesn’t want to act happy or sick, even though I can hear her puking in the bathroom. And I know she’s excited, even if she won’t say. And it’s not that I’m unhappy . . . it’s just . . .”
“You’re scared.”
He sat back and shook his head vehemently. “No.”
I pressed my lips together, trying not to show any amusement at his obvious denial.
He let out a huge breath. “I’m scared as hell.”
“That’s normal,” I tried to reassure him.
“I wasn’t expecting this so soon. Hell, I didn’t even expect Meg.”
“You didn’t expect her, but I would dare say your life is better with her. You’re happy together.”
He nodded. “She gets to me.”
A need arose in me to be spoken about like that. I had to push it down. This wasn’t about me. Envy never did anyone any good. “You think that will change once the baby comes?”
He looked up to the ceiling. “Maybe.”
“Zander, Meg has a great capacity to love. And for most women, their love grows for their spouse when they create a child together.” I remembered feeling that way briefly for Douglas. It was hard to remember feeling any love for him at all. “But you will need to share in the process and the experience of it all. Believe me, Meg is scared too. Her body is going through some amazing and terrifying changes. It can be a lot to take in. She’ll need all the support you can give her, which doesn’t mean you can’t be honest about your feelings. You should be honest; she’ll know one way or the other.”
“I don’t want her to think I’m a douche bag, especially since I’m the one who knocked her up.” Zander had grown, but he was still Zander.
“A little advice,” I kept my tone light. “You might not want to say you knocked up your wife, especially around Meg.”
His smirk returned.
“Meg knows you and obviously she knows this isn’t easy for you. Talk to her. Make sure she doesn’t have to second-guess your feelings for her. She doesn’t deserve that. She’s in a vulnerable state right now.”
“I love Meg.” He said it so firmly there could be no doubt he did.
“I know you do and she does too, but it wouldn’t hurt to remind her more often for the next few months.” What I wouldn’t have given for that comfort.
He took several more deep breaths. “I don’t want to screw this up, or my kid.”
“You’re going to screw up a time or two.” I grinned. “Everybody does. Just make sure to acknowledge it and fix it. And don’t forget, this is a fun time in life. You have a lot to look forward to.”
He stood up, his confidence was back. “Thanks. I think I’m going to head home and take Meg to lunch.”
“I think that’s an excellent idea.”
“Make sure to email me your top three picks for Nick before the end of the day.”
“I will.”
Zander left without another word.
I watched him go and had a weird thought of how proud I was of him. I had been wrong about him. I mean, not completely wrong. He was as arrogant as they come, and he had a heavy dose of love for himself, but he was a good man.
Was I wrong about Nick?
We were about to find out. I ran his profile against our database to see what women he was compatible with in our system. And I inhaled and exhaled . . . a lot.