The Real Mr. Right

by Karen Templeton

  “And what am I supposed to say? You’re not exactly an impartial third party. Matt’s your twin, for heaven’s sake—”

  “And for a long, long time,” Bree gently said, “you were my sister. By choice. Do I think this is a little weird? Hell, yeah. But I love you both. And if either of you is hurting, so am I.”

  “Which is why we’d agreed to keep this between us for the time being.” Kelly blew out a breath. “There’s nothing you can do—”

  “Except listen. Which I actually do now. As opposed to when we were kids and... God. How on earth did you stand it, listening to me yammer on about myself for hours on end?”

  “What can I say?” Kelly said, smiling. “You were very...entertaining.”

  Another snort, then Sabrina said, “Well, now I owe you. So start talking.” At Kelly’s silence, she added gently, “You know you can trust me. Because I can keep my mouth shut.” She chuckled. “These days, anyway.”

  So Kelly sucked in a lungful of air and dived in, admitting that no matter how hard she tried to shove the fear away, it wouldn’t go. That, in fact, the harder she fell for Matt, the closer fear pressed that it was still too soon, the danger of losing herself again too real, that the man was too damn protective—Bree grunted, agreeing—and if Kelly couldn’t appreciate that, appreciate him, how on earth was this ever going to work?

  “Good point,” Bree said, but now that Kelly had let loose the hounds, there was no calling them back.

  “And worse is that I can tell Matt’s so afraid of saying or doing the ‘wrong’ thing that we’re both holding back, and how unfair is that? Not to mention, well, dishonest. To all of us. Especially the kids, who...” Her eyes filled. “Who’re growing more attached every day.”

  “As are you,” her friend said softly, and Kelly gave a shaky sigh.

  “I don’t get it, Bree. How can something feel so damn close to right, and yet...” She exhaled loudly. “So...I found this little rental house the other day,” she said.

  “Oh, honey... Really?” Bree responded.

  “Yeah.” It was a sweet little house, really. Still close to Coop’s school, and her professional kitchen. Nice yard. They could get a dog, if Coop wanted—

  At the end of the block, the gang appeared, Linnie doing her little wiggle skip as she held Matt’s hand, Coop gesturing wildly as he told Matt some story or other, and she felt as though she’d been knifed.

  “I think it’s best,” she said to Bree. “And they’re right up the block, I’ve got to go.”

  “We’ll talk,” her friend said, and disconnected.

  Coop ran toward Kelly, yelling, “Mom! Matt said if it’s okay with you, I can ride my bike for a little bit!”

  Kelly squinted at the coral sun rapidly sinking toward the horizon. “A little bit is right. It’s almost dark—”

  “I know, I know—”

  “And wear your gear!”

  “Sheesh, Mom,” he said, huffing a huge sigh as he and Matt headed toward the garage and Linnie bounced up the porch steps, crawled into her lap and promptly plugged her thumb into her mouth.

  “Sleepy girl?” Kelly murmured, stroking her baby’s soft curls. At her little girl’s nod, Kelly shoved to her feet—my gosh, this kid is getting heavy!—and carried her inside to get ready for bed, blinking back tears as she wondered how she was going to tell Matt they were leaving. Without breaking his heart, that is.

  You’d think, after Rick, she’d be better at ending things.

  But no.

  * * *

  “I hate wearing all this stuff,” Cooper said as Matt fixed the strap on Coop’s bike helmet. How it kept getting loose, Coop had no idea. “I feel like a robot!”

  Squatting in front of him, Matt smiled, then handed him back the helmet. With a sigh, Coop put it on, snapped the strap. At least it was cool looking, a dark, glittery blue. But now that the weather was warmer it itched. And the knee and elbow pads were a pain.

  “Better to feel like a robot than hurting your noggin,” Matt said with a light tap on the helmet’s top, which made Coop grin. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been so worried about Matt, because now he liked him. A lot. Like how he always talked in a quiet voice. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. And how he never acted like Coop was bothering him when he asked him something. “Or scraping your knees and elbows if you fall.”

  “Except I never do! Ever! You’ve seen me, I’m a good rider!”

  “And even the best riders wear their protective gear. And you’ve got maybe fifteen minutes before the sun’s down,” he said, standing, and Coop sighed again.

  “Will you watch me?”

  “Like a hawk,” Matt said, and Coop pushed off down the sidewalk, looking out for where tree roots had shoved up the cement. He’d love to ride in the street, where it was smooth. But Mom said he wasn’t big enough to do that yet.

  She never let him do anything, sheesh.

  He reached the end of the block, looped around to come back. Lots of people were out, walking their dogs and stuff. From what felt like really far away, he saw Matt wave to him. Coop raised one hand to wave back, right as a pair of giggling girls passed. The end of the handlebar stung his hand when he grabbed it, but even though he wobbled a little when he hit a bump, trying to get out of their way, he was okay.

  Except then some dog came out of nowhere, rushing him and barking its head off. Startled, Coop jerked the bike so he wouldn’t hit the dog, only he bounced over a tree root, then off the iron fence right beside him, and the next thing he knew he was flying....

  * * *

  His heart in his throat, Matt sprinted down the street, Alf at his heels, both reaching Coop as the boy slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. With a “Thanks, I’ve got this,” Matt waved off a concerned neighbor, then shoved the worried dog out of the way to get a closer look at the kid. Who wasn’t crying or in obvious pain, although his lower lip was quivering a little. Winded and a little stunned would be his guess. “You okay?”

  “I...th-think so. Stupid dog—”

  “I saw.” Heaving a sigh, Matt glanced down the street at the rapidly vanishing mutt. He doubted the thing was dangerous, simply out for a little adventure, but still. He turned back to Coop. “Believe me, that owner’s gonna get a visit from me.... Hey, buddy,” he said gently, cupping the little boy’s shoulder when the lip quivering got worse. “What is it...?”

  “I d-didn’t mean to... The b-bike...” Coop looked over at the crippled bike, scrubbing a tear off his dirty cheek. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful. Dad—”

  A memory flashed from when Matt was five, when he accidentally knocked his father’s boom box onto the unforgiving tile floor, shattering it—

  What the hell’s wrong with you? Are you blind? Or just stupid...?

  Silently swearing, Matt yanked Coop against his chest, the boy’s quiet tears ripping him to shreds. “It’s okay, buddy.... It was an accident.” Then he gently pulled Coop away, capturing the teary gaze in his. “Not your fault, okay? Bikes can be fixed.” He glanced over, sighed then looked back at Coop, smiling. “Or replaced. What matters is that you’re all right—”

  “Oh, my God, Coop!” Panting, Kelly dropped to her knees on the pavement, reeking of fear. “Are you all right, sweetie?”

  “Yeah, mostly.” He straightened his glasses, gave Matt a small smile then crinkled his nose at his mom. “Did you leave Linnie alone?”

  “Of course not. She’s asleep, Mrs. Otero is with her. For heaven’s sake, what are you doing?” she said when Coop tried to stand. “Stay still, something could be broken—”

  “He’s fine, Kelly—”

  “You don’t know that!” Kelly responded. “So how’s about letting me take care of my own kid, okay?” Then, wide-eyed, she clamped a hand over her mouth. As Coop’
s eyes darted back and forth between them, she shook her head, tears cresting before she lowered her hand again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “No problem,” Matt said, very quietly, as he got to his feet. And part of him—the pissed-as-hell part—was briefly tempted to walk away, to let the stubborn woman handle it all on her own, just like she wanted. Except even Ms. Pigheaded had to admit there was no way she could get a banged-up kid and his even worse banged-up bike home on her own.

  He looked at Coop, who was testing his legs. Limping a little, but probably otherwise okay. “Can you walk?” Matt asked.

  “Yeah. It hurts, sorta. But not bad, I swear,” he said, when Kelly mashed her lips together.

  “I could carry you,” Matt said, and horror streaked across the kid’s face.

  “No!” Then he looked at the bike, trying so hard not to start crying again. “But...”

  Matt grabbed the bike by its frame, hefting it up to his side. “Like I said, if it can’t be fixed I’ll get you another one.”

  “You don’t have to—” Kelly began, but Matt quelled her with what was probably not the kindest look in the world. Because he knew what she was thinking, that who bought the next bike was immaterial, because there wasn’t going to be a next bike. Because God forbid she let the kid take a few risks.

  Because God forbid, he thought, seeing the regret in her eyes, she take any.

  But that was her decision. Just like it’d been all along. Terms he’d agreed to; no point in moaning about them now.

  “Discussion closed,” he said, going ahead, letting her guide her hobbling son back to the house.

  House. Not home.

  * * *

  Kelly knew Matt was waiting for her. Waiting for the talk they’d both put off for too long. Fortunately Mrs. Otero was happy to stick around, especially when Kelly sweetened the deal—literally—with a promise of assorted bite-size desserts left over from yesterday’s event, which her clients hadn’t wanted.

  He was on the porch, his hands folded across his stomach, sitting in the rocker but not rocking. Alf lifted her head at Kelly’s approach, her tail thumping against the floorboards. Kelly came only as far as the top step, though, where she sat so she wouldn’t have to look at him. Not that she could see him all that well, anyway, in the dark, the nighttime breeze braiding with the sweet scents of grape-scented hyacinths and newly mown grass, the tang of charred meat from somebody’s barbeque—

  “This isn’t working, honey,” he said behind her, very softly. “For either of us.”

  Now she turned, trying to see his face. Needing to. “I’m so sorry, Matt. You know how much I wanted it to.”

  “Really?” he said, and for the first time she heard the anger that must’ve been simmering for weeks. And her own flared.

  “I did warn you, Matt. That I wasn’t sure if I could do this—”

  “Dammit, Kelly—” he sighed “—I have bent over backward to prove I’m not trying to control you, or clip your wings, or whatever it is you’re so damned afraid of. That I’m not Rick—”

  “I know that,” she said, her face flaming.

  “Then why won’t you let me all the way in, no matter what I say? Or do. Why can’t you trust me? Fine, so I’d protect you, all of you, with my life, because that’s how I was raised. Who I am. That’s what a man is supposed to do.” He hesitated, then said, “Especially when he loves somebody. Loves the woman underneath all the crap, anyway.”

  She twisted around, frowning. “What did you say?”

  “Yeah. Deal. And I never said it before because...because God forbid I pressure you. But now it’s like what the hell, since treading lightly didn’t work, anyway. I don’t get it, Kell. I honest to God don’t. Why you see me protecting you guys as such a threat. Especially since you’re exactly the same way. With the kids, I mean.”

  He had a point. “I don’t get it, either,” she said quietly, as she turned back around, her chest feeling as though Alf was standing on it. “Because I love you, too. Have for some time, actually. And I do trust you. I know you’d never hurt us.”

  The boards squeaked when Matt leaned forward. “Then, sweetheart,” he asked, so gently she cringed, “what the hell is the problem?”

  Kelly leaned her head against the post next to the stairs. The robin bid the world good-night, a sweet sound that made her want to cry. “You know what I don’t trust? Life. Because every time I’d thought things were going pretty good before, I got slapped in the face.” She paused. “Literally, at one point.”

  Silence reverberated behind her. “You said he never physically abused you.”

  “Actually, I sidestepped the question, as I recall. Because it was only once, and years ago. And he never lifted a hand to me again. I swear. And, yes,” she said softly, “Linnie was the result of her father’s...apology.”

  “Damn it, Kelly—why didn’t you tell me all of this that first night? Especially since I gave you the opening—”

  “I don’t know! Okay? I was flying on adrenaline, and instinct, and...maybe the doubts were already creeping in about that phone call, that I’d heard wrong, misconstrued Rick’s words. Or maybe because it had been four years, and if the court didn’t take it that seriously, why even bring it up? Or...” She shook her head and said softly, “Or maybe, just maybe, because I was too ashamed to admit I’d stayed with a man who’d hit me.”

  “You thought I’d judge you?”

  “People do,” she said wearily. “Besides, who went to his sister the next morning to see if my story held up? It’s okay,” she said, interrupting whatever he’d been about to say. “You’re a cop, we hadn’t seen each other in years, you had no idea if I was telling the truth or not. You did what you had to do—”

  “To protect you as much as—”

  “Yourself? I know. No, really, I do. Except then it was all moot, wasn’t it? But the thing is...stuff happens. One minute it’s all rainbows and kittens and then boom. Somebody dies, or turns out not to be who you thought they were, and...” Her shoulders bumped.

  “And you survive,” Matt said, his voice sharp. “You learn from it and buck up and move on.”

  Kelly whipped around. “But how can I do that as long as you’re doing the bucking up for me? And if I’m afraid to let you do that, to be you, if I—we—can’t find that balance...we have an unsolvable problem.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I’m so, so sorry, but it just seems to me we shouldn’t have to think so hard, try so hard, to make this work. God knows we’ve got the surface stuff down, but...if we can’t be who we really are, then what’s the point?”

  When he didn’t say anything, she swallowed. “Once before, I fought for something I finally had to admit wasn’t meant to be. I’m not saying this is anything even remotely like that situation, because it’s not...but I won’t do that again. Not to me, not to the kids. Or to you. So it’s like you said, sometimes all you can is buck up and move on.” She hesitated, then said, “I...I found another place.”

  A moment, then several more, passed. From down the street, she heard laughter from a newlywed couple on their porch, a dog barking. Alf lifted her head, listening.

  “I see,” Matt finally said. “Where?”

  “Not f-far...” Kelly squeezed her eyes shut, waiting, then said, “It seemed...best.” Then she pushed herself to her feet, hugging herself against the nighttime chill. The pain. “It’s like you s-said—” her teeth began to chatter “—you n-need, and deserve, someone who can let you all the way in. Who can let g-go. Apparently I’m not that person. No matter how much I want to be.”

  Then, before he could say something, anything, to change her mind, she raced down the steps, barely making it around the side of the house before she sank into the soft, damp earth between the brand-new flowerbeds, covering her mouth to mask her sobs.

 
Chapter Eleven

  Coop waited until Mrs. Otero left before coming out of his room, where he found Mom curled up on the sofa in the dark. Well, almost dark, the light over the stove was on, but that wasn’t saying much. She was just sitting there, not watching TV or anything. She kinda jerked when she realized he’d come in, then blew her nose.

  “What are you doing up, sweetie? Are you okay...?”

  “Mostly, yeah.” He sat in the big chair, but only on the edge, so the balls of his feet touched the floor. “Mrs. Otero says kids’re made of rubber—they bounce right back when they get hurt.”

  He thought maybe Mom smiled. “And wouldn’t it be wonderful if that were true? Come here,” she said, patting the space beside her. “We need to talk.”

  He sure didn’t like the sound of that. But he went, anyway, smushing himself against Mom’s side when she put her arm around him. “I found us our own house,” she said into his hair. “With a yard and everything. And it’s closer to school, so you can even walk if you want—”

  “Wait.” Coop sat up, looking at Mom’s face. “We’re moving? Again?”

  “At the beginning of the month, yes. And as I said, there’s a yard, so we could get a dog—”

  “I already have a dog. Alf.”

  “Honey...” Mom touched his hair. “Alf’s Matt’s dog. So she’d stay here.”

  Suddenly, his stomach hurt. “Did you and Matt have a fight?”

  She laughed, but it sounded totally fake. “Of course not—”

  “You’re lying!”

  “Coop!”

  “You had a fight, and then you broke up, like you and Dad did, and now—”

  His eyes felt hot and stingy. He tried to back away, but Mom wrapped him up tight in her arms again. Really tight. “There’s nothing ‘just like me and your father’ about this,” she whispered. “Matt and I... It’s not like that.”

  “You can say that again.”