The Perfect Woman (Rose Gold Book 2)

by Nicole French

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.

  Calvin was still watching the now-closed doors. “He’s been asking around about—you know what, don’t worry about it. He’s just a cockroach, nothing more.”

  “Was it—” I caught myself before I mentioned the strange woman Matthew had named earlier. “Did he find anything?”

  Calvin just shook his head. “Don’t bother, princess. I know you don’t care about me, just your own precious neck. No one has connected anything back to you, so far as I can tell.”

  The tension around my chest lightened. Some. Something else told me it was only a matter of time.

  “Maybe…” I started, but then, another possibility occurred to me. “Maybe I should go north, then. Tie things up. They’ll be watching you, but not me, I think. I could take Olivia to school. Maybe get away for a bit myself. Actually, I was considering taking a class. Maybe even work on finishing my degree, you know—”

  “Nina, will you just stop babbling?” Calvin snapped. “Honestly, I don’t have time for this. I’m under investigation.”

  I stared at the ground, waiting for the anger in my face to fall away again. “I only meant I could check on the other houses. Facilitate their sale, if that’s what you need.”

  “I—all right, fine. Sure, yes, I’ll give you a list. No sales though. Just contingency plans.” He was obviously happy to have me out from underfoot for some reason. Perhaps Matthew’s attempt to bug the house was a good one after all.

  “You said the…papers…were done a long time ago, right?” I asked. “You said you weren’t involved anymore. Is that—is it true?”

  Calvin’s eye gleamed. “Yes. Yes, that’s right.”

  Then why don’t I believe you? I wanted to say.

  Before I could say anything else, Matthew, followed by Jane, emerged from the house. He was carrying his overnight bag and had replaced his swim shorts and open shirt with a smarter outfit of light gray pants and a white Oxford shirt, rolled up at the cuffs. His straw fedora was still in place, but he had on his sunglasses again, likely to mask his eyes better than I was able to manage.

  “Do whatever you want,” Calvin was saying. “As long as it takes heat off me, I’m all for it. It’s about time you started contributing to this goddamn mess anyway instead of being so fucking useless.”

  I trained my stare carefully on the ground, but the sudden fire on Matthew’s face was evident even in my peripheral vision as he and Jane approached.

  “Nina?” Jane called. “Zola just said he’s leaving, do you know why—oh!” She caught sight of Calvin and stopped short. “What are you doing here?”

  Calvin turned, his face flushed. “This is my family’s house. Which you maneuvered your way into less than a year ago, thanks.”

  Jane’s bright red mouth dropped. “Excuse me?”

  “Calvin!” I cut in. “Really, that’s inappro—”

  “Zola is a dear friend of mine and Eric’s,” Jane cut right back. “Who, if you don’t remember, has been a part of this family his entire life, without selling anyone out, by the way!”

  “Jane.” Matthew rubbed his face. He obviously didn’t want her saying anything to Calvin right now.

  “For the last damn time!” Calvin blustered. “I did not sell Eric out to the SEC!”

  “Sure, sure,” Jane retorted. “You just keep saying that, and I’ll keep forgetting it.” She turned to me. “And you? Are you all right? I’m almost afraid to leave you alone with this one.” She jerked her head at Calvin.

  I stiffened. Could she know? No, no one knew. But Matthew stiffened too. I avoided his gaze, penetrating once again through his sunglasses.

  “Jane, honestly,” I scoffed as disdainfully as I could manage. “What are you thinking? This is my husband, not a common thief.”

  Calvin’s smirk was wide enough that it made his chin wobble. Jane peered between us, and Matthew’s mouth was suddenly pressed into a tight line.

  “I was just talking about our change of plans as well,” I said. “Calvin clearly came to make peace with Eric, and so perhaps it would be better if Olivia and I offered them some privacy, so to speak—”

  “Nina, come on,” Calvin interrupted. “What are you blathering on about?”

  I had actually been babbling on purpose to give Jane and Matthew both time to get their own expressions together. But Calvin’s terse interjection clarified something else.

  “I was just telling Calvin that Olivia and I need to get back to the city,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth like a waterfall. “I’ve decided to go back to school this fall, and the term begins after Labor Day.”

  I had no idea if anything I said was true or even possible, but I would do whatever I could to make it so. In that moment, I had decided, without a doubt, that I would never spend another night in the same house as this man if I could possibly help it. Matthew had given me an opening. I was shoving my way through it.

  Jane’s mouth fell open again, this time with genuine shock. Matthew’s brows rose over his glasses, but he didn’t say anything. Calvin looked blindsided, but also kept quiet. The only thing my husband liked less than my disobedience, of course, was being embarrassed in front of others.

  I turned to Calvin. “You were amazingly supportive. I so appreciate it.”

  He melted, taken in by the sudden praise. “Yes, well.” He reached out and drew a knuckle down my arm. “Labor Day isn’t for another week and a half. Perhaps you could at least stay the weekend, then, princess.”

  On his other side, Matthew started at the use of the nickname. The one I had snapped at him multiple times never to use.

  Well. Now he knew why. In part, anyway.

  His fists clenched tightly, and his forearms were a sudden twist of muscle.

  I stepped away from Calvin’s touch as carefully as I could. “I’m afraid we have a lot to do, and we need to get up to Boston soon.”

  “Boston?” Jane repeated, now visibly excited.

  “You’re going all the way to Boston?” Calvin echoed.

  I nodded, ignoring my husband’s stunned look. “Yes. When I was at school, I was at Wellesley. It doesn’t make sense to start somewhere else. Not when I only have a few semesters to finish.” I shrugged. “There will be online options in the spring, I’m sure, but for the fall, I’ll need to be there.”

  “Do you have a place to stay?” Jane pressed on, suddenly looking excited. “Because if you don’t, you should visit my friends, Skylar and Brandon. You remember them from our wedding, and I know they’d love to have you and Liv, and—”

  “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “I could come with!” She grinned. “I love an excuse to see my bestie. Stay this weekend, and then next we’ll make a weekend of it when you have to take Olivia back to school.”

  Matthew’s face was curiously unreadable. I only felt the walls closing in. It was becoming more apparent my grand plan to escape would have to wait a few more days.

  I turned back to Jane. “I—I’ll think about it. I’m sure it would be nice to meet someone there.”

  “I’ll call her. She’ll want you to stay, I’m sure of it. They are the best.” Jane was already pulling out her phone, and a moment later, had sent a brief text. “See, it’s done. No going back now.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but before I could, Matthew cut in.

  “Jane.”

  We all turned to him. Calvin’s face reddened all over again, as if he had forgotten Matthew had witnessed the entire exchange, and now was furious at himself for allowing it.

  “I should go,” Matthew said. “Mr. Gardner has a right to be here, and I don’t want to make things awkward between anyone.”

  He leaned in to deliver a quick kiss to her cheek, and envy stabbed my gut. I wrapped my fingers together and kept my gaze fixed on the gravel, counting the pieces until Matthew and Jane were finished.

  “I’ll call soon for drinks,” he called after her as she di
sappeared back into the house. Then he turned and tipped his hat at Calvin, who sneered visibly. “And, Mr. Gardner. I’ll see you in court.”

  At the word “court,” Calvin’s face bloomed a sudden, virulent crimson. He looked like he wanted to punch a hole through one of the car doors with a hammy fist. Before I could stop myself, I flinched. I knew that look well. Very well.

  “It was nice to see you again,” Matthew interrupted, holding his hand out to me for a polite shake.

  Cautiously, I took it, only then feeling the sharp edge of a metal chip sliding between my fingers.

  “Everything okay, Mrs. Gardner?” Matthew asked quietly.

  I flared, taking my hand back and shoving it into my pocket with the chip. That was all I needed—the slightest bit of concern would turn Calvin into a rage later, if that wasn’t already in the cards.

  “It will be once you and your mangy little car are off our property, Mr. Zola,” I said loudly. And as cruelly as I could manage.

  Behind me, Calvin snorted. “I need a drink. Nina. Inside. You’ll be at least somewhat social for the full weekend before you and Olivia abandon me again.”

  “Of course,” I said. “I need to change, though. Would you like me to take your things up to our room?”

  “Fine, sure.”

  Calvin tossed his phone and everything else at me like I was nothing better than a bellhop. I turned to follow him, feeling like my heart was being torn out of my chest behind me. But as Calvin disappeared up the steps and into the house, I chanced one last look over my shoulder.

  Matthew still stood behind his open car door, watching me carefully as I walked away. He had removed his shades, and his gaze was now transparent, green eyes as wide and fathomless as the ocean behind me. Wide. Open. Full of more love than I’d ever seen in my entire life.

  As he backed toward his car—the beat-up Accord I’d seen parked outside his house—I pressed my fingers to my mouth and released them, a small gesture of the kiss I so wanted to give.

  Matthew didn’t respond, too aware of the faces potentially hidden behind the reflective window panes. But his expression didn’t shift, and I soaked in that love for one last second before he left.

  Interlude II

  August 2018

  Matthew

  “Come on, you can do it. Throw me the ball, Sof.”

  I squatted down like a catcher, held out my hands, and pretended to brace myself for the plastic Wiffle ball my four-year-old niece was holding.

  But instead of throwing it the ten feet or so across the tiny yard we shared with the other brick houses around our block, Sofia just screwed up her face and began to cry.

  My arms dropped. “Shit.” I jogged to Sofia and squatted down again, this time to pull the little girl into my arms. “Sofia, honey. What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I c-can’t do it!” she howled.

  “Can’t do what, Sof?”

  “Throw the ball.”

  I bit back a smile. Like most of the women in my family, Sofia already had a talent for speaking in italics and making a man feel like an idiot in the process.

  “What? Of course you can,” I crooned as I stroked flyaway hairs from her face. “You nearly broke one of my windows yesterday. That’s why we’re playing with this sturdy thing instead of my baseball.” I tossed the whiffle ball up in the air and caught it easily. “Why don’t you think you can throw it, Sof?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why, monkey?”

  “Because!” she shouted. “Because of what those boys said to me!”

  I cocked my head. She and her mother had just gotten back from Mass, which could only mean one thing. Her cousins had been acting like assholes again. “You mean Tommy and Pete?”

  A big, pea-shaped tear welled out of one eye, then slid over Sofia’s chubby red cheek. She brushed it away with a thick fist. “Those boys,” she spat, like the word intimated some terrible creatures that lived in a cave.

  I couldn’t really fault her there. My nephews were basically gremlins.

  “They said,” she huffed, “they said”—another hiccup—“they said I throw like a girl!”

  And like she had just purged some terrible admission, a torrent of tears spilled forth, which she automatically shoved angrily out of her face. Yeah, Sof was definitely a member of the Zola tribe, if for no other reason than her hot temper and stubborn charm. She might have been four, but she didn’t like crying any more than the rest of us.

  I didn’t dwell too long on why that might be.

  “Hey,” I said, pushing her hand away. “You wanna know the truth, kiddo? They’re just jealous.”

  She blinked, her tiny forehead still wrinkled with a frown. “How do you know, Zio. You’re a boy too.”

  I smacked my hand against my heart, like she had just shot me through with an arrow.

  She giggled. Progress.

  “I know because I’m a boy, Sof,” I told her.

  She eyed me suspiciously, like she was trying to see if I was messing with her too. “Zio, don’t trap-uh-nize me.”

  It took me a second to figure out what she meant, but in the end, I couldn’t hold back a laugh. Christ, the things this kid learned from her mother.

  “Sof,” I said, still chuckling while she scowled. “I swear to God, cutie, I would never patronize you.”

  She stuck her chin out. “That’s not what Mommy says. She says you trap-uh-nize everyone.”

  I swallowed back another laugh, straightened my face, and looked her in the eye. “Listen,” I said solemnly. “Girls have secret superpowers And every man knows it, deep down in his guts. That’s why they’re all scared of you, Sof.”

  Her eyes blinked, wide and dark. “But I don’t want them to be scared of me, Zio.”

  I cocked my head. “Why not, baby girl? You don’t want to be the big bad Sofia?”

  She shook her head, curls bouncing. “No. I just want to play ball too.”

  I sighed. Wasn’t that the truth? Deep down, all anyone really wanted was to play ball with everyone else. Power, prestige. Teasing, yelling. It was all just a cover-up for that desire, deep down, to be close to others.

  “Well, then,” I said. “We just need to make you the best ball player there is, cutie. And if those hooligans say you play ball like a girl, you can just say, ‘That’s right. You jealous, clown boys?’”

  “Mattie!”

  We both turned to find Frankie on the back porch, a scowl on her face, hands on her hips.

  “Sofia,” she called. “We do not call names.”

  Sofia blinked, suddenly the picture of innocence. “I didn’t, Mama. That was Zio.”

  “Oh, I know,” Frankie said. “That goes for him too. Now, come on in for lunch. Mattie, Derek’s here for you.”

  Sofia and I collected her ball and climbed the steps back up to the deck, where Frankie had set out a plate of sandwiches for Derek and me.

  “You don’t want to join us?” I asked before she shepherded Sofia inside.

  Frankie’s gaze flickered to Derek, then back at me. “No, you guys need to work. We’ll just get in the way.” And before I could argue, she closed the sliding glass door and disappeared inside.

  I turned to Derek, who was watching her. He sighed.

  “I take it your last date didn’t go so well,” I said as I picked up a sandwich.

  Derek had been casually seeing my sister for a few months now with my blessing. To be honest, I didn’t think Frankie could do much better, and Sofia needed a man in her life besides her good-for-nothing uncle.

  “Eh.” Derek shrugged. “We had a nice time, but it’s not going anywhere.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? I thought things were all right. You took her to a Mets game, right?”

  “I thought we were having a good time, but then someone called. And, I don’t know, she changed.” He shrugged. “It was pretty clear her attentions were occupied somewhere else.”

  I frowned. I hadn’t heard anything about
this, but my sister wasn’t exactly open about her personal life with me either. She hadn’t even told me she was pregnant with Sofia until she was too far along to hide it anymore.

  Derek didn’t expound any more on the situation, and I wasn’t one to meddle.

  “Well, sorry, man,” I said. “I would have liked to see things work out.”

  He took a bite of his food, closed his eyes with pleasure as he chewed, then swallowed. “Me too. She makes a damn good sandwich.”

  I snorted. That right there told me these two weren’t a good match. Frankie was as good a cook as anyone raised by our grandmother, but she was the type of woman who didn’t like to be valued based on that sort of thing. If I’d heard “I’m no man’s maid” once, I’d heard it a hundred damn times.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday,” Derek said, pulling out his phone. “I know you’ve been pulling extra hours getting ready for trial. But I thought you’d want to see this.”

  I beckoned for the phone. “Don’t worry about that. You know we’ve been stuck for a while. Pray to fuckin’ God something turns up with the bugs on Gardner’s apartment, because otherwise, we’re going to lose on appeals.”

  “Well, check this out.”

  Derek pressed play, and a blurry video began on the screen. It was on some nondescript street in an equally nondescript neighborhood that literally could have been any New England city.

  A car pulled up to the curb—a big black Escalade that looked very out of place in the neighborhood. A woman exited the passenger side, purse looped over her slim wrist.

  “What the fuck is this?” I demanded.

  “It’s not what,” he said, “but who.”

  In my gut, I knew who it was. But it still felt like I’d been punched when the woman turned, and her familiar, perfect elegance stared back at me through the screen.

  “Jesus,” I breathed. “Nina?”

  Derek said nothing. He didn’t officially know about my connection with Nina Gardner, but of course had his suspicions, which he’d voiced before.

  Nina walked across the sidewalk, looking nervously in both directions as she approached a chain-link fence in front of one of the peeling rowhouses. Derek and I both watched her pass through the gate, up the steps, and knock on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened. It looked as though whoever was on the other side invited her in, but she shook her head.