Just Her Type

by Laudat, Reon

  No glasses. A sure sign Pixie Chick was an “extra special date.”

  The neat scruff along his jawline had grown darker, thicker, beardier. Kendra bit her lip as that familiar gust of deep yearning overwhelmed her.

  Kendra, at her bag lady best, wore a sloppy bun smelling of baby spit-up because she’d gone three days too long without washing her hair. She’d thrown on a long-sleeved pilling Pabst Blue Ribbon T-shirt, moth-eaten leggings, a tatty parka, and mildewed galoshes though it wasn’t raining outside.

  When stylishly attired Pixie Chick mentioned something about having fallen while ice skating, Kendra assumed the pair had probably been to Rockefeller Center, the kind of cute, but touristy holiday date followed up with hot toddies by a crackling fire that Kendra would’ve enjoyed with Dominic.

  “Oh, you!” Pixie Chick laughed at something else Dominic said and shoved him.

  “You know it’s true,” he said, continuing their little inside joke.

  “Yes and you are always right,” she replied adoringly.

  That’s what and who he deserved, happiness with someone who clearly appreciated him.

  Good for you, Dominic. Good for you. Kendra’s fingertips eased to her trembling lips, and she blew him a small kiss. Her eyes stung and her heart tumbled.

  “You need some help, ma’am?” The question from a hospital worker in scrubs startled her.

  Kendra couldn’t speak because tears she refused to release burned her throat. She shook her head. The young man continued on his way.

  She hurried along, grateful Dominic hadn’t seen her.

  ***

  “Dominic,” Brielle said, “something wrong?”

  “Huh?” Dominic replied. Kendra had invaded his dreams at night, and now he thought he saw her. Everywhere. After looking to his left and glimpsing a retreating profile, a deep, dull ache radiated through his chest. He didn’t see the woman’s face, nor could he make out much about the body underneath that bulky parka. But there was something about the way she moved that was hauntingly familiar. That chest ache spread to a sinking feeling in his gut. His spirits that had limped along all day, flatlined.

  Dominic was far from over Kendra Porter. If anything, her absence confirmed he was madly in love with her. Even so, he wasn’t sure his love alone was enough. Still, he’d lost count of the times he’d reached for the phone to ask her to see him. Once, he’d ventured to her neighborhood hoping he’d happen to run into her. Pride be damned. Beg. Plead. Grovel.

  He desperately wanted to pursue. Every fiber in him wanted to reconnect. He yearned to hear Kendra’s laugh, feel her soft,- warm curves in his arms, inhale her intoxicating scent. But it took two, he’d told himself before quickly retreating, vowing never to return.

  Kendra had to want it to work as much as he did or the relationship was doomed to fail. She had to meet him halfway. And thus far, she hadn’t.

  “Hey, where did you go just now?” Brielle asked.

  Dominic blinked. “I’m sorry. I thought I saw somebody I know. You were saying?”

  “Whitney and Gage texted. Everyone’s meeting at their place after they leave the rink. I can’t wait to see what they’ve done to the house!”

  “They always go all out. Over-the-top with their place lit up like the Vegas strip. You up for that after your injury?”

  “Are you kidding me? You betcha! You heard Doc and saw the X-ray. Nothing’s broken, thank goodness. Nothing a little ice and pain reliever can’t fix. I can’t believe what a klutz I am.”

  Dominic offered her his arm as she eased off the examining table. “Not a klutz. I think big show-off is more like it.”

  Brielle leaned against him as she hobbled toward the patient checkout desk with the papers, care instructions, and the prescription for a pain reliever the doctor had passed to her before he departed.

  “So I thought it was like riding a bike, okay?” Brielle laughed. “I used to be very good, you know.”

  “Okay, Katarina Witt.”

  Brielle laughed and gave him a shove.

  Gathering for an evening of classic holiday specials, movies, and stacks of pumpkin spice pancakes was a Tobias family tradition Dominic had enjoyed since childhood. That year, he’d planned to bring Kendra as his date. The thought only added to his misery.

  Brielle passed the pink sheet and her credit card to the attendant at the checkout window, and then turned to Dominic. “I hate that you had to leave the rink to bring me here.”

  “Anything for my favorite sister-in-law.”

  “Haven’t I heard you refer to Jen and Whitney as your favorites, too?” she asked with a lift of her manicured brow.

  “Busted.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. When you married Coop you got the rest of us, too. You know that’s how we roll.”

  Cooper had flown out of town on a business trip while the rest of the Tobias family had gathered at the ice rink earlier that day so the kids could get plenty of exercise before settling in around the television.

  When Brielle’s cell pinged with another text, she read it with a smile on her face. “It’s Coop. I want to call him to let him know I’m okay.” She hobbled a few feet away to put some space between herself and Dominic, but he could still overhear her cooing, “I miss you, too, love muffin. Darn last-minute business deals… I know. I know.”

  Cooper and Brielle still shared sickening sweet nothings after all these years. More than a twinge of envy assailed Dominic. They had been a couple since their teen years. He recalled what Kendra had said about people who had only been with their high school sweethearts. Brielle and Cooper seemed content with their choices. Even if they didn’t already have four kids, he couldn’t imagine either plagued by what-ifs or questioning the decision to commit to each other for life at a young age.

  “Hurry home, love bug, okay?” Brielle ended the call and hobbled back over to Dominic. “Coop sends his thanks for helping me out. Any predictions for what we’ll see first tonight? I sure hope it’s Christmas in Connecticut, my favorite, but the younger children will want to choose first. What about you? What are you in the mood to see first? ”

  Dominic felt less Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer and more How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Or the more fitting They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?

  Brielle rattled on, “Hey, you remember Chelsea. Coop told me you think she’s attractive. I’m sure she’d love to—”

  “No hookups.”

  “What’s going on with you? I only see glimpses of the old happy-go-lucky Dom. You’ve been distracted and so sad lately. C’mon, let me call Chelsea. I know she’d join us. She’s a lot of fun. And I happen to know she likes you. A lot.”

  “Thanks, Bree, but I don’t need a matchmaker.” Dominic wasn’t ready for another woman, not with Kendra still on his mind and in his heart. “I’m just a little tired. I’ve been busy with work.”

  “Let me know if you change your mind about Chelsea.”

  “I will.”

  “Now let’s hurry, I want to claim that bergère before Manny beats me to it. It’s near the fireplace and the coffee table that usually holds all the goodies. And it has the best vantage point to the TV.”

  If Brielle had read Dominic, surely the rest of his family would, too. To keep them off his case, he’d fake some holiday cheer, even if it killed him. He pasted on a big smile. “Yeah, let’s blow this Popsicle stand and hustle on over to Casa de Christmas!”

  Chapter 40

  A full bladder and excruciating cramps sent Kendra, who was two blocks from home, racing to her bathroom.

  Her period had arrived.

  Profound sadness she didn’t understand settled over her as she reached for protection and the over-the-counter pain reliever in the medicine cabinet. What the heck? Yes, she wanted to be a mother more than anything. Someday. The timing was all wrong. Her eyes misted anyway. The long, loud, ugly cry followed.

  This is nuts! Her hormones could be crazy making at times. But she
also supposed a part, a part bigger than she wanted to admit, held out hope that a pregnancy would give her a good reason to reach out to Dominic again. As the father he would have a right to know if she were carrying his child. Over the past few days, as her breasts felt fuller and became more painfully sensitive than ever before a normal period, she’d foolishly allowed herself to daydream, just a little at first. And then she’d fantasized a lot as her fatigue and mood swings worsened.

  What if? Suddenly, this particular possibility didn’t look as frightening as it had when she’d first realized that condom had broken.

  She should’ve known better. It was too early to experience such intense symptoms, anyway. Kendra dried her eyes and finished up in the bathroom. Okay, so there is definitely no baby who will have Dominic’s dark chocolate eyes and your nose. Get over it.

  With relentless thoughts of Dominic and the baby that never was distracting her, a romance novel was the last thing she needed to read. However, to stay on schedule, she had to get back to work. She settled in her favorite chair and finished reading an early draft of the seventh novel in the popular Harmony Hamlet series by client Dreya Carlson. Kendra usually looked forward to curling up with a new installment featuring the handsome and addictive Colton brothers who leaped off the pages and wrapped themselves around readers’ hearts. However, Dreya’s latest offering lacked the usual spark. Was it Kendra’s funky mood? Or worse, had she subconsciously bought into that irksome double standard: The hero is given carte blanche to unleash all manner of jerkdom as long as he charms while at it, eventually sees the error of his ways, and then declares his undying love at the end. The heroine, however, must qualify as BFF material and behave in a manner above reproach for the bulk of the novel or risk getting flayed and labeled “highly annoying” and “unlikeable.”

  Kendra filled margins with her Sharpie and attached a stack of sticky notes, most of them about the heroine’s character arc. Nope, it wasn’t Kendra. Dreya had not done her best work, possibly due to tighter deadlines and a recent cross-country move with her husband and four grade school-age children.

  Kendra looked at her notes again. The heroine could stay true to who she was, but also display believable growth in character. That was not the case here. As a result, the story had peaked midway, and then nosedived to an unsatisfying denouement. Angst mistaken for emotional depth. Her “redemption” did not ring true, therefore, the happily-ever-after felt unmerited, along with her suddenly successful home-based calligraphy business.

  What had she learned that she didn’t know before? And why her? What was it about her that made this particular, swoon-worthy Colton brother want to give up his free-wheeling bachelor lifestyle and position of power heading a multimillion-dollar conglomerate and move back to Harmony Hamlet for good and take over a small hardware and feed store?

  Before he found out she was pregnant with his twins.

  Even for a guilty pleasure read, the ol’ magical twat (or cock) rationale was too much of a stretch for Dreya’s discriminating readers. Kendra made more notes about the heroine: delve deeper. She attached that sticky note to the manuscript before putting it aside. She went to the kitchen for a glass of water while she gathered more thoughts for her revision letter, but her own life kept intruding.

  Was Kendra worse than Dreya’s one-note, shrewish heroine?

  Dominic was far from perfect with his massive ego, sometimes-controlling proclivities, and double-wide competitive streak, but he was a decent guy with a good heart. A guy who loved his family, job, books, eighties pop culture, cornball jokes, Technicolor shirts, sweaters, socks… and her. A diehard romantic, Dominic had put his feelings out there from the start. What had she done? Tried to smother their sparks with a blanket of suspicion and resistance. Should she try to get him back?

  Kendra prayed for answers to that question and listened with her heart. While she believed in a higher power, she’d never been as churchified as the Millers. Thinking that might be part of her problem, she’d started accompanying her aunt to services again two weeks ago. In addition to gaining a deeper understanding of the Word, it calmed her restless spirit and gave her somewhere different to go on Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings, besides the Starbucks around the corner, where she used to escape with a bundle of submissions. The pastor’s messages had resonated with her.

  Kendra hadn’t picked up her needles and yarn in weeks. Maybe she should start knitting again. Her aunt’s advice came to mind:

  It’s not a race. You’ve got to be more patient, honey. And it’s not about the quantity of stitches, but the quality of the stitches. I know it’s tedious, but you’ve got to be willing to frog it.

  Frog. As in rip it, rip it, rip it, rip it. Apart. Stitch by stitch. Row after row after row after row.

  Unravel. Unravel. Unravel.

  Don’t give up.

  It’s okay to try again until you get it right.

  Phone Dominic? It appeared as if he’d wisely moved on with stunning Pixie Chick in the ER. He looked content. Was it even fair to go to him now? She wasn’t one who suddenly found a man more desirable because he was taken, but what if she only felt this deeper yearning for him simply because the pressure was off? Would a hasty reunion—if he’d have her—merely awaken feelings of entrapment sure to lead to yet another flight response?

  Maybe she would phone Vanessa, whom she hadn’t heard from in weeks. For real talk for once.

  Or should Kendra leave them be?

  Instead, she returned to her chair in the living room and reached for the bamboo needles and a ball of an acrylic-wool blend. She would start a simple potholder. Garter stitch, nothing more.

  By the time afternoon turned to night she’d produced three potholders. No-frills, level-one difficulty potholders.

  The first one didn’t look pitiful, but the next one wasn’t bad at all, and the one after that looked even better. Stick to the basics. Take your time.

  This more thoughtful approach showed in the work, which grew progressively neater and uniform.

  No more holes from dropped stitches.

  No more curling edges, splitting yarn, rippling cast-ons.

  Kendra had only begun learning to knit because she felt left out watching Brittany, Selena, and Alyssa enjoying something with Aunt Jackie. It had become a true passion, a type of meditation, even more therapeutic now that she wasn’t zipping through projects and anxiously thinking of ways to outshine her friends, who’d been exceedingly patient in the face of her more exasperating antics.

  She put the knitting away and reached for a notebook with “homework assignments” from one of her many self-help books. She’d recently started the diary with exercises for more intense reflection. The goal, chip away at her darkest recurring thoughts and self-defeating habits. This was something she had not tried before. For insight, she’d work her way down a long list of her relationships, her failures, and fears. She wasn’t completely opposed to seeking professional help with this list if needed, but she wanted to give this approach a try first.

  Kendra’s phone chirped with a message from Vanessa, who wanted to text dish about the “amazing” luncheon she’d had with her Colorado-based blog followers. According to her, Ashton was giving her a foot massage with Dead Sea mud. Isn’t he a doll? I have the best honey bear in the world!

  Before Aunt Jackie’s disclosure about Vanessa, Kendra would’ve been highly irritated by that text. So much so she would’ve put off responding for at least a week, if she responded at all. Instead she hit reply and typed: Glad things went so well for you and your Just Vanessa followers. I hear it’s beautiful in Aspen this time of year. Tell Ashton I said hello. Not sure if I told you, but I really like him.

  Kendra spent the next twenty minutes responding to Vanessa’s texts and multiple photos. After putting her phone away, she opened the diary and didn’t stop writing until she filled fifteen pages. That purging felt cathartic now that she viewed Vanessa’s most maddening habits through a different filter.<
br />
  Despite what she’d initially said to her aunt, she’d been rethinking everything she thought she knew about Vanessa. When she actually spoke to her again, what would she say? I know your story. Your full story. I understand.

  Would Vanessa interact with Kendra any differently after that? If not, could Kendra accept it? No way was it that simple. But the fact that Kendra wanted to initiate contact, wanted to talk, was progress. And she hadn’t felt the urge to surf Vanessa’s blog and social media accounts several times a day since she’d revealed that embarrassing secret to her aunt.

  Before turning in for the night, Kendra called Aunt Jackie who sounded giddy with promise after her first date with Russell, the mailman. The pair had taken in the latest Lucas Cameron action flick and dinner at Outback. She went on to tell Kendra all about the mohair cardigan she’d knitted and paired with the “sexy” new dress she’d purchased from Chico’s especially for her date.

  Aunt Jackie had lost her husband, the love of her life, but had gradually moved through the stages of grief at her own pace. The road from deep sorrow to healing had hairpin turns, detours, and loops along the way. But tonight was further confirmation that Aunt Jackie was well on her way, which gave Kendra hope for confronting her own obstacles. A lightness she hadn’t felt in a long while swept through her. For how long? Only time would tell. A few days of naval gazing, a couple of heart-to-hearts, and a round of connect-the-dots revelations were hardly cure-alls. It had been a while since she’d gone longer than a few months without a man or a plan to hook up with one as if it were a science project. This unfamiliar course empowered her. No boyfriends. No fiancés. No elaborate hunts. During this break she would close that Cupid4You.com account. She vowed to do the work. Hard work. She would dig deeper this time.

  Chapter 41

  A year later