The Problem with Perfect

by Megan Mayfair

  “I don’t know. And we’re never going to know exactly.”

  They sat silently for a moment. She picked up the remote control and turned on the television. She found a sitcom and left it on as they both watched.

  “This sofa is kind of uncomfortable.” Marigold shifted her weight.

  Finn turned his head and raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you kidding?”

  Marigold smiled.

  He let out something that resembled a chuckle. “Hard as a rock. I’ve had undercover assignments where I sat in ditches that were more comfortable than this.”

  “Why don’t we watch the rest of this on my bed? I have a television in there.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Finn looked back straight ahead. She saw him swallow.

  “It might be more comfortable, that’s all,” she said, a warm feeling creeping across her cheeks.

  “Look.” He stood up and started to pull all the cushions onto the floor. “Hand me that blanket.”

  She passed it over to him. It was the quilt she had spent so many sleepless nights under. It had become almost like a security blanket. She couldn’t imagine not having it with her in the evenings.

  Finn flicked it out and spread it out over the cushions. “On the ground,” he commanded.

  Taking his direction, she sat down on the pile of cushions. It was surprisingly comfortable.

  He sat down next to her, kicking off his shoes, sending them across her floorboards with a series of thuds.

  She pointed to the screen. “This is the first thing other than infomercials I’ve watched since it happened.”

  He shot her a confused look. “Infomercials? Like the ones that are on late at night advertising juicers and things?”

  “Yes. Frederick got me hooked on them when I visited him. We’d text about them – make fun of the products or discuss how we’d use them – but he abandoned me recently when his daughter started sleeping through the night.”

  Finn turned to face her. “And you’re not sleeping through the night?”

  “I wish! But this is progress. At least I’m not watching something where someone is trying to sell me something that I’d probably never use.”

  “Did you buy anything? They are sort of hypnotic, those things. I was tempted to buy a ladder once – one of those folding ones. I’m not sure how I would use it in an apartment, but it looked useful.”

  She laughed. “Yes. I have a new pillow. And some knives. I suspect that Frederick’s house is overfilling with breadmaking machines and pans and exercise equipment. He’s become quite addicted.”

  “Do you want to watch an infomercial now?” He picked up the remote control. “Pick up a new blender?”

  “No. This is good.” She waved her hand towards the screen. It was pleasant – the canned laughter, the bright colours, the easy plot line. It was manageable. She lay herself down, curling her legs up. “You should go if you want.”

  “Doctor said to keep an eye on you.”

  It was pointless to argue. He was going to guard her like a sentry. But instead of feeling like a prisoner, it felt strangely comforting.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Finn

  Marigold had fallen asleep, curled up on the cushions like a sleek black cat. She really was beautiful, even with a gash on her head caused by whatever the heck had happened in that apartment.

  She was exhausted. She hadn’t been sleeping well, and she’d had a knock to the head. He couldn’t leave her.

  His leg was numb. Should he try to move her? It wouldn’t be comfortable here on the floor for long. He’d move her to her bed but he’d sit outside. Just check on her every now and again on account of her head, but otherwise he’d come back downstairs. He pulled himself up and leaned over, sliding one arm under her shoulders, another under her waist.

  “What?” she whispered, half-asleep, in confusion.

  “I’m moving you,” he whispered back, carrying her upstairs. She nestled into him, bringing her arms around his neck. He laid her on her bed and watched as she curled up into her kitten pose again. He turned to leave but heard her call his name.

  “Stay with me,” she said, dreamily, half-asleep.

  “I’ll be downstairs,” he said.

  Her eyes fluttered open. He wasn’t sure, but they looked misty, as though she was about to cry. “Please, Finn, just stay with me. I need to feel someone next to me. And please understand how hard it is for me to even ask. I’m not good at asking for help.”

  He paused, uncertain, but eventually nodded. He lay down next to her on the bed. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded and curled up to the pillow.

  “This is the pillow.” She gave it an affectionate tap and a weak smile.

  “The home shopping network pillow?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Is it comfortable?”

  “Not really.” She let out a resigned sigh.

  He tried not to, but he felt himself laughing.

  She looked at him, curiously, before starting to laugh herself. “It was sold by a man in a white coat and he had a model of a skeleton. It all seemed very scientific,” she protested between giggles.

  “I’m sure it did.”

  He watched as she grinned, before becoming serious again. He loved that playful side to her. He wished he could see more of it.

  “May I ask you something? What happened to your dad? Your mum said that he passed away when you were eleven?”

  Finn stared straight ahead at the ceiling. “He had a heart attack.”

  “Like Julian. Leading cause of death in men.” Marigold let out a sigh. “Something so common, yet so unexpected. That must have been tough.”

  “Mum took it hard, but she never really showed it.” He rolled onto his side to face her. “She had to keep on going for all of us. Work hard to keep the roof above our heads.”

  “She did well. Very well. I don’t think I could have done that.”

  He doubted that. Marigold had a dogged determination about her. She could do anything she set her mind to. But he agreed. His mother had done exceptionally well under the circumstances. “I owe her everything,” he said.

  “Did she ever meet anyone else?”

  “No.” He watched as her eyes fluttered closed and she fell asleep. He listened to her breathing, thinking about how long it had been since he’d slept next to someone. He felt her roll over, facing him. She put her hand onto his shoulder.

  He paused. Should he remove it, or just roll over to loosen it? He didn’t mind. It felt nice to have her hand there, but she was clearly asleep. It wasn’t as if she knew what she was doing. Her body curled further towards his, and he could feel her breath on his neck. He shut his eyes, taking it in for a moment. The intimacy of sleeping next to someone was, at times, far more intense than just the physical act that sometimes preceded it.

  No, this wasn’t right. He rolled over and removed her arm, shifting a little closer to the edge of the bed and away from her. He heard her whisper.

  “Julian.”

  He swallowed.

  She repeated Julian’s name again and made a groaning noise before spluttering and sitting up.

  “Where?” she gasped, seemingly disorientated.

  He wasn’t sure if she was awake or asleep. “Shhhhh,” he whispered, as he’d seen his sisters do with his nieces and nephews. He gently pulled her down to lying, where she said Julian’s name again and snuggled into her home shopping network pillow.

  He lay back down, unsure if it was disappointment, or perhaps simply reality, settling over him. After everything about Julian that she’d found out in the last few days, she still called out for him in her sleep.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Marigold

  Light filtered through the edges of the curtains. She could hear Finn’s slow and steady breathing next to her. She turned to him, carefully as not to wake him. He was very still, on his back, his arms folded over his chest. It didn’t look c
omfortable, but he still seemed to be asleep.

  It had been one of the best night’s sleep she’d had in a long time. It had been comforting and reassuring having Finn lie next to her.

  “Good morning,” she heard him say.

  “Good morning.” Maybe he hadn’t been asleep. He was hard to read sometimes. “Thanks for staying with me,” she murmured, looking over at him.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Can I get you some breakfast?” she asked.

  “Umm, no, thanks. I might get going if you are feeling ok? No headache? No dizziness?”

  Marigold sat up and assessed how she felt. She looked at the bandages on her arms. “I’m fine, I think.”

  He climbed from the bed and straightened his shirt. “I’m pleased. I thought I’d collect your car from the apartment and drop it back here later. Give me a call if you need anything.” He gave her a polite nod, and before she could say anything but a quick ‘Thanks’ he disappeared into the hallway.

  Marigold lay back down in her bed. The events of the previous day rushed back at her, like an unpleasant slide show. Sasha. She scrunched her eyes shut at the embarrassment and humiliation of meeting her husband’s… girlfriend? No, that wasn’t right. Mistress? It was only a one-time thing. Friend? Whatever she was, thankfully Finn had spared Marigold herself from having to tell Sasha that Julian was dead. But equally as humiliating had been to realise all the things that she had simply not known, and then the fight with Finn, then the drama at the apartment building. It was one disaster after another.

  Tears ran down her cheeks, crying into her pillow over everything that had happened since Julian’s death. Exhausted, she fell asleep.

  When she awoke, pulling her phone towards her, she realised it was two in the afternoon. Had she ever slept in until two o’clock?

  Climbing out of bed, she stretched, and wandered into the kitchen. The leftover noodles Finn ordered the night before were in the fridge, so she grabbed those and a fork, and sat up at the bench and ate.

  After a shower, she found a text message on her phone. Finn had left the car in the driveway and put her keys in the letterbox.

  She drove to the local store, bought some roses, and continued to the cemetery.

  “I’m sorry, Julian,” she said, placing the flowers on his grave and brushing away a couple of leaves that had blown across his headstone. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t what you needed me to be. I’m sorry that I probably was too focused on other things like work and not enough on you. But I wish you’d told me about the flight and the client. I would have helped you. I would have. I wanted us to be perfect. I wanted us to have a marriage like my parents, where it was all about achieving things. But how good was that, when you didn’t tell me the stuff I should have known? Sasha told me what you said, by the way, and she’s right. You were right. Maybe I did treat you like a merger rather than a husband.”

  She took a deep breath, looking around. It was quiet. There was a family visiting a grave a few aisles away, and a man mowing the lawn in the distance.

  “I can see why you liked her.” She looked down, tears in her eyes. “I get it, she was all pretty and there for you, and I wasn’t. I don’t blame you for what you did, and she said that you struggled with it. That you didn’t like being unfaithful. You were always so honest, so I know that must have been hard for you.”

  She took another breath. The sound of the mowing had stopped; the only sound was the wind in the trees and a few birds fluttering about nearby.

  “I didn’t realise how broken we were. I wish you’d told me these things. Maybe we could have fixed them. Maybe we could have been ok.”

  She stared at her husband’s grave. “I love you, Julian. I always will.” She dabbed the sides of her eyes to stop the tears, but paused. She’d stopped herself from crying so many times in the last couple of months.

  It was time to let herself cry for everything she’d lost.

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Marigold

  “What about that one?” Rose asked, perching herself on a sofa. They were sitting in IKEA, Marigold having made a decision to update her sofa, even though she was now sleeping in her bed more regularly. The weeks since the night Finn had stayed with her had brought much more sleep than she’d had for a long time.

  “Not bad.” Marigold considered it and sat next to her sister on it. “It’s pretty comfortable.”

  “It is. It would look really nice in your living room. Oooh! Look, it comes in caramel! Now, that would be perfect. Oh, I meant to ask, what’s that new Pilates studio you’re going to? Is it good?”

  “Very good. Are you thinking of changing?”

  “Yes.” Rose sighed. “Ever since the Gala, Will has been really weird. I’m not even sure how he ended up there, do you? I didn’t invite him.”

  Marigold looked at the price tag to avoid her sister’s eyes. “Hmmm, I wonder.” She hadn’t heard from him since that night, so she assumed he felt that the ledger was squared. She thought about Finn’s words. He’d been right. She shouldn’t have kissed Will, but trying to blackmail her wasn’t appropriate.

  Perhaps that’s how Julian felt about that client who was blackmailing him. She’d panicked after Will’s phone call, and made a rash decision to give in to him to make it go away. Julian had panicked too, and giving a few bundles of cash possibly seemed like an easy way to get out of a mess. He’d done the wrong thing, but she could appreciate why he might have acted the way he did.

  “Regardless of how he did get there, it’s rather strange now I think of it. Just turning up somewhere he wasn’t invited. And then Finn appeared and asked to speak to him, and he went off and never came back.”

  Finn? Marigold stifled a smile. Had he said something to Will? He’d looked after her so well since Julian died. In many ways, she wouldn’t have survived without him.

  “Have you ever noticed that Finn is quite handsome, really? He looked great in a tux,” Rose mused. “In a frowny, Mr-Darcy-at-a-ball type way, but still, he’s cute. He’s got lovely eyes.”

  Marigold swallowed. Yes, she had noticed his eyes. She muttered a vague yes in response to Rose’s commentary, and suppressed a smile at her description of him being ‘frowny’. She couldn’t help being secretly pleased that Finn had clearly not beguiled Rose with too many of his devastating smiles.

  “I think this is the one,” she said, wanting to change the subject. She patted the sofa and wrote the item number down on one of the slips of paper.

  After a walk, and a visit to the café for a cinnamon roll (which Marigold found herself enjoying more than anticipated), she paid for her sofa.

  “Put your PIN in,” the cashier said.

  Marigold tapped away. The machine beeped. Wrong PIN.

  She let out a sigh. She’d finally remembered her old PIN. Maybe things were starting to return to normal. Whatever that was.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Marigold

  Marigold took a deep breath as she poked her head into her father’s office.

  “Good timing, I was about to return to Mulberry,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “How are you?”

  “Dad…” She hesitated. “My marriage was a sham.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  And as she told him about everything she’d found out, she felt as though a weight was lifting from her shoulders.

  Her father looked shocked as each bizarre detail was explained. “I’m so sorry, Marigold. You should have told us,” he said.

  “I was so embarrassed.”

  “You shouldn’t have been. This wasn’t your fault. I can’t believe these things he did, and kept from you? How did you unravel this all?”

  “Finn helped me. I asked him not to tell you. Please don’t be mad at him.”

  Peter shook his head. “He was in here yesterday. He told me he’d been helping you with something but he didn’t want to betray your confidence.”

  “I know you had him watching me
.”

  “We were worried.”

  “I know you were, but I think we did put Finn in an awkward situation. But I appreciate him not betraying my confidence – and he really was watching out for me. In fact, I don’t know if I would have survived all this without him.”

  “I’m glad he was there for you. He refused to bill me for watching you as he felt like he’d betrayed my confidence. I’m still going to pay him, of course, whether he likes it or not.”

  Come to think of it, Finn hadn’t billed her at all for any of the work he’d done for her, and it had been more than a month now since the day he’d helped her at the hospital. Perhaps he wasn’t great at the admin side of his business? She’d thought about him a lot in the past few weeks, but pushed that aside. It was important to focus on what she was here to discuss with her dad.

  “I’ve been taking some real time out these last few weeks. I’m finally sleeping better, and things are starting to get back to normal, but I’ve realised I need time. I want to come back, but I think another few weeks is a good idea. I’m going to go back to Bowral to see Frederick and Amelia and the kids. But after that, I’d like to discuss coming back to work.”

  “That sounds like a great plan. You know that this was never a punishment for what happened with the merger. I thought you needed time.”

  “You were right. I did. I caused massive problems with that merger.”

  “We got it back on track. It was a hiccup, but you should be proud of the work you did to get it that far. You’re a natural. You’ll lead this place far better than I have.”

  “I want to, but I need to get some balance. I don’t know what exactly happened with Julian. Perhaps it was all him, but he described our marriage as a business partnership. That’s not good. I was tired; I didn’t realise how tired. It’s tiring trying to be perfect all the time.”

  “It is, but you don’t have to be perfect. Your best is brilliant, but perfect is unachievable. You are setting yourself up to fail.”