Well Suited

by Hart, Staci

  “Can’t say I blame her. Didn’t quite work out for me,” she said lightly, as if it were a joke.

  But it didn’t feel like a joke at all. Not to me.

  “It’s not your fault you ended up yoked to a son of a bitch.”

  One of her dark brows rose with her lips. “Oh? Whose fault would it be then, Teddy?”

  “His.” A single definitive word that held decades of indignation.

  She sighed, the sound weary with years of regret. “I shoulda been smarter. I shoulda known better. Everybody knew Johnny was trouble, but I thought he loved me.”

  “Because he told you he did. But he didn’t end up showing it.”

  “Sometimes I wonder why he married me. Why not just sleep with me and leave the door open to walk out of when he was through? Why promise me forever? And the only thing I can think is that he did love me. He was just too messed up to love me the way I loved him.”

  My jaw clenched tight enough to pop. I didn’t want to think about him as anything but a lazy piece of shit who never did right by anybody. But I doubted she was wrong. I didn’t know how anybody could know her and not love her. But I didn’t know how anybody could leave her like that.

  A flash of fear bolted through me. Was Katherine too Katherine to ever choose me? It wasn’t a possibility I could fathom. I felt sure if I followed the rules, checked all the boxes, waited patiently, she’d come around.

  But what if she didn’t?

  That answer was too much to fathom. So I packed it away and relit the brazier of hope in my chest.

  If I had my way, we’d have our happy ending. I was gonna marry that girl one day. Someday.

  But for starters, I’d happily settle for a kiss.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately,” she started, pushing her food around her plate with her fork.

  “About what?”

  “Your father.”

  A burst of adrenaline ripped through me. The check in my pocket felt like it was on fire. “What about him?”

  “I think I want to file divorce papers.”

  A frown, mighty in intensity, weighted my face. “Ma, that’s crazy. You know you’d have to see him, right?”

  “I know. But it’s been twenty years. He couldn’t affect me after all this time.”

  I gave her a look.

  She gave me one back. “I’ve been bound to him for too long.”

  “But why now, Ma? Where’d this come from?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it for years. Since he left. I couldn’t have done it back then, but now…well, now I can. But I need your help.”

  Thunder and lightning rolled through my chest. “He could take everything you have.”

  “You know as well as I do I’ve got nothing that isn’t Tommy’s. There’s nothing for him to take.”

  “But whatever you do have, he’ll take it.”

  Her face bent in sorrow and pain. “I don’t understand why you’re mad. I thought you’d want this. Teddy, I thought you’d understand. I don’t want to end my days married to that man.” The words choked off.

  The sight of her face falling quieted the storm in my rib cage, filling me with dread and remorse.

  I moved to her side, pulled her into a hug, and said the only thing I could. “It’s all right, Ma. If this is what you want, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “Thank you,” she said into my chest, her trembling hands hanging on to me with all her strength, which wasn’t much.

  God help that son of a bitch if he hurt her again. And God help us all if he showed up here to make trouble.

  Because all of this meant my secret wouldn’t stay quiet much longer. The second John got served, he’d come straight to me and make demands. Demands and threats.

  So long as he kept his mouth shut, I’d keep paying him.

  And so long as he stayed away, his nose would stay unbroken.

  11

  Prepositional Propositions

  Katherine

  The Rose Room was dark and empty, lit only by the lamps dotting the long work tables, casting soft, quiet light on the planes and angles of Theo’s face. His smile was sideways and touched with heat I felt through my suit dress.

  “I’ve outlined the merits of the top three convertible cribs and compared their features in a bar graph.” He gestured to the foam board on a stand I hadn’t seen until just then.

  I was so hot for him, I started sweating.

  His suit was black as pitch, brilliantly tailored, squaring his broad shoulders and hugging the curves of his biceps.

  I stripped off my suit coat and rose from my seat. “Tell me more.”

  His eyes were molten as I hitched my skirt so I could climb onto the polished surface of the table.

  “I made you a spreadsheet.”

  A shudder of pleasure rolled down my back as I crawled toward him.

  “Organized by safety ratings.” He stood, slipping his hand into my hair. “Categorized by price.” His lips inched closer, setting fire to every nerve in my body. “Lowest to highest,” he whispered, the words bouncing off my lips before covering my mouth with his.

  I was a superabundance of sensation, a seismograph charting an eight-point-nine. I was hot and cold all over, but the vast majority of feeling concentrated in two places—the seam of our lips and the aching point where my thighs met.

  It was wrong, being in the library like this. And we couldn’t be together, shouldn’t be together. The danger of it all—not only for getting caught, but to myself, to my heart—zinged between us, the desperation in our kiss hot and thick.

  We were instantly naked, my back warming the hard table, his body heavy on mine. His hand brushed my sex without knowledge of how it was possible with his hips flush against mine. My legs wound around his narrow waist, his skin hot and soft over the hard mass of his muscles.

  He broke the kiss and looked down into my face. And as he slipped into me, filled me up, he breathed the word, “Come.”

  My eyes shot open with my lungs, the gasp noisy and desperate in the quiet of my bedroom. I groaned into my pillow, my lids fluttering, hips grinding into my mattress as I did just as he’d commanded, my orgasm shuddering through me, body clenching around nothing.

  A sigh as it ebbed, my heart slowing. And my brain had only one question.

  What the fuck was that?

  The answer was, of course, simple. I’d had my first wet dream.

  I’d read a lot about increased libido in pregnant women but assumed that was constrained to actual physical acts, not lucid dreams that ended in a real, actual orgasm.

  I flipped onto my back, flushed and disoriented and sated. Well, other than that my poor vagina had been empty when I came. I decided there was little so unsatisfying. Even a measly finger would have been better than nothing.

  The sense of loss that Theo wasn’t actually there overwhelmed me. My mind echoed what he’d said to me weeks ago.

  Say the word.

  All I had to do was say the word, and he would be in my bed, giving me real, super-full, super-hot orgasms. The temptation was alluring, especially with the memory of his dream-kiss and his dream-body and his dream-peen fresh and real in my mind.

  I huffed, flinging my covers off and slipping out of bed with a mighty pout on my face.

  I couldn’t say the word. Because it wouldn’t be so simple as hot beef and exchange of bodily fluids. Especially not if he came bearing spreadsheets.

  With sharp snaps, I made my stupid bed. Brushed my stupid teeth and my stupid hair. Stood in front of my stupid closet and picked out a stupid outfit, telling myself as I zipped up my pencil skirt and slipped my feet into heels that I only wanted to look professional at work for the sake of my promotion. No, I didn’t pick up my tube of red lipstick with the moniker Hot Mama printed on the bottom because Theo was coming to meet me for lunch. I just felt like a little self-care in the way of looking pretty.

  It had nothing to do with Theo or the hope that he’d be weari
ng a suit or the dream I’d had where he nailed me on a library table.

  Because saying the word wasn’t an option. Saying the word would mean complicating an already complicated situation. It would mean giving up, giving in. Stepping into something that would inevitably blow up in my face. Because if I knew one thing, it was that I had no idea how to date Theo.

  No matter how badly dream-me wanted it to be true, real-me’s job was to be smarter than that.

  Spreadsheets or not.

  ❖

  Theo

  I trotted up the library steps, passing between twin lions standing sentinel to guard the knowledge inside.

  My smile was immovable.

  A week had passed since the doctor’s appointment, and we hadn’t seen each other, per her rules, damn them. But we’d texted. Quite a bit actually. What had begun as a request for our next meeting started a string of conversation that occupied far more time than either of us had intended and both seemed to enjoy. I’d started to look forward to texts with random pregnancy facts at unexpected intervals and updates on her day. Like the realization that folic acid made her more nauseated and the subsequent discovery that Flintstones vitamins would work in their stead. Or that rice had become a staple of every meal she consumed.

  Even breakfast. She’d taken to eating a bowl topped with canned diced tomatoes.

  I shuddered at the thought.

  It was why I’d gone out of my way to make a lunch today that would appease Katherine’s digestive gods.

  I’d discovered my joy of cooking gradually and against my will. Once we moved to the Village with Ma, it became my responsibility to feed us. Tommy was busy writing and being social, and Ma couldn’t quite manage it anymore. So I started planning meals. Following cooking blogs. Downloading apps to help me find recipes. And a couple of years in, I’d realized I loved it, looked forward to it.

  There was something supremely satisfying about literally putting dinner on the table. I enjoyed making a meal out of a pile of ingredients. I found the assembly and care it took to complete a meal the most tangibly productive part of my day.

  When presented with the problem of Katherine’s particular tastes, I accepted the challenge with all the determination of Tom Brady at the Super Bowl, less the whiny crybaby entitlement and bad wardrobe.

  Once inside the library, I scanned the entry for her, setting down the soft cooler so I could text her.

  I’m here. You ready?

  Let me just grab my bag. Meet me at the desk.

  I scooped up the cooler and headed that way, the spring in my step unmissable.

  I couldn’t help it. I’d been waiting a week to see her. And the last time I’d seen her, I’d almost kissed her.

  Stupid, necessary rules, trying my patience and will at every turn. My respect for them was the only reason I hadn’t kissed her breathless in the doctor’s office. I swore I could hear her begging me—with her eyes, with her lips—and when she’d closed her eyes in anticipation, I’d almost caved and given her what she’d asked for.

  It was at the very last second that I’d caught myself. I still wished I hadn’t, but I was glad I had.

  Because she had to make the next move. If I pushed, she’d spook, and I’d lose my shot.

  As I approached the desk, the man behind the counter glanced up, his eyes immediately narrowing when he saw me.

  He wasn’t tall, nor was he short. Wasn’t quite handsome, but wasn’t homely either. He was perfectly average, from top to toe and everywhere in between. But he eyeballed me like I’d come to confiscate the family farm.

  I looked down at him—an instance where my imposing height came in handy. A zip of adrenaline burst through me as I read defense on his end, remnants of the biological training of my youth due to the countless fights Tommy had dragged me into.

  I was smiling, but I wouldn’t call it a friendly smile.

  “Can I help you?” he asked impatiently.

  “Just waiting on Katherine,” I answered. “Do you know her…Eagan?” That was the name on his little metal name tag. Made me wonder how many black eyes he’d gotten. It’d have been plenty if he’d grown up in the Bronx.

  “There are benches over there,” he said in an attempt to dismiss me.

  “Sure are. But Kate told me to meet her here.”

  His suspicious eyes narrowed a tick more. “Nobody calls her Kate.”

  I leaned in a little, smirking. “I do.”

  He huffed, rearranging a stack of books in front of him without purpose. “You’re blocking the desk.”

  I glanced dramatically over my shoulder. “Funny, don’t see anyone who needs anything from you. What exactly do you do here? Head of card stamping?” I flicked the date stamp resting on the pad, and it teetered before righting itself.

  He snatched it, setting it out of my reach. “Don’t touch my stamp.”

  “How long have you known Kate?”

  “None of your business. What are you even doing here?”

  “I made her lunch,” I said, holding up the cooler in display.

  “So, what is this, a date? Katherine doesn’t date either.”

  “Maybe not you,” I said lightly.

  Katherine rounded the desk, her step faltering when she saw me. She slipped from the stoic Katherine to flushing Kate in the span of a heartbeat.

  I shifted, reaching for her elbow for fear she might fall. “Steady there. You all right?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she answered breathlessly before stepping back. She smoothed her pencil skirt, adjusting her cardigan after.

  She looked lovely as always, but today, she’d stepped it up. Shades of black, including pumps, her hair dark and curled rather than straight, as I’d seen it before. The only color was the ruby red of her cardigan, the flush of her cheeks, and her crimson lips.

  I hadn’t seen her in lipstick since that first night at the club. And the sight of her wearing it again set a deep groan sighing silently in my rib cage.

  “Be back in half an hour,” Eagan barked.

  She gave him a look that would make any man’s blood run cold and said in a steely voice, “Have I ever been late?” He opened his mouth to speak, but she said, “Of course not,” turning away from him to take my arm. “I’m starving. Where should we eat?”

  I didn’t even pretend to contain my smugness, smiling at Eagan the Angry Egghead before turning us toward the exit.

  “I was thinking we could sit by the fountain. Will you be warm enough without a coat?”

  “Oh, yes. It’s nice out today, don’t you think? I’m glad to be out of coat weather. I thought winter would never end.”

  “Punxsutawney Phil ruined us all.”

  She frowned. “He’s a groundhog. He can’t determine the weather.”

  “Tell that to the good people of Punxsutawney.”

  She chuckled, keeping her hand in the crook of my elbow as we headed down the stairs and toward the fountain in Bryant Park.

  “Did you know the lions were carved in Tennessee pink marble? LaGuardia named them Patience and Fortitude.”

  I smiled, amused. “I didn’t know that. What else?”

  She paused, the interlude marked by the sound of her heels on the steps. “The light posts over there”—she pointed toward 6th—“were designed by Tiffany Studios.”

  “The jeweler?”

  Katherine laughed at my apparent idiocy. “No, as in the makers of Tiffany lamps. They’re beautiful, cast in bronze. You should take a look at them sometime.”

  “Not now?”

  “No. I only have half an hour, remember?”

  “Ah, as the illustrious Eagan reminded you.”

  I glanced down to gauge her reaction and was pleased to find her scowling.

  “He’s the worst.”

  I huffed a laugh, surprised by her generalization.

  “I mean it. He’s the actual worst. He’s constantly trying to piss me off. Effectively, I might add. We can’t stand each other.”

  �
�Oh, I don’t know about that. I think Eagan has a little crush on you.”

  Her head swiveled to glare at me. “That’s ludicrous.”

  I gave her a look right back. “It’s not at all. I’d be willing to bet you’re the hottest librarian in the public library system.”

  Her cheeks flushed—whether it was from the compliment or fury, I couldn’t know. Maybe both.

  “That…well, that makes no sense,” she sputtered, snapping her eyes back to the path. “He’s horrible. Rude. Constantly making my life difficult.”

  “Playground rules. Boys who pull your pigtails like you.”

  “Boys who pull my pigtails get black eyes.”

  Laughter spilled out of me. “Why, Kate, I never expected you’d resort to violence.”

  “When it comes to Eagan, always. He’s the exception to my every rule.”

  For a split second, I envied him that.

  We reached the fountain, but the chairs and tables were all taken. I worried she’d balk at eating anywhere else, but without a word, she hopped up on the ledge of the fountain and demurely crossed her ankles.

  She was a vision in black and red, the city stretching up behind her, the fountain bubbling sweetly at her back. Her lips, so red and inviting, curled up at the very edges, a smile rare and generally hard won. But she offered it to me without my having to do a thing.

  I took that feather and stuck it proudly in my metaphorical cap.

  I sat next to her, putting the cooler between us. Preventative measures and all that.

  “Is there an occasion today that has you dressed up?”

  “Only this.”

  I glanced over to find her smiling still, something unspoken behind her alluring irises. It was unlike her to keep anything close to the vest.

  But by my grand powers of deduction, there was no other meaning to take.

  She’d dressed up for me.

  “Thank you for meeting me for lunch like this, Theodore. I know it’s not very long.”

  I unpacked the containers one by one. “Like I said, Kate—any way I can get you.” I didn’t wait for a response, just popped the lid off her lunch and handed it over.

  She took it curiously, peering inside.