The Husband Maker Boxed Set

by White, Karey

  “Be sure to do that while he’s here,” Aleena said.

  “And Musee Mechanique.” I’d finally found my voice.

  “Hawl?” Flynn said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Sorry,” Bruce interjected. “Hawl means excuse me. I think he was asking you what you said. Music what?”

  We all laughed. “I thought English was Scotland’s official language,” I said.

  “Aye, it is, but it’s a bit different.”

  “I said Musee Mechanique. It’s a game emporium down on the wharf. The owner has been collecting carnival-type games for decades. There are some great ones in there. Be sure to go there.”

  “Thanks for the tip,” Bruce said. “Sadly I have ta work while he’s here, so he has to play tourist on his own much of the time.”

  “Where do you work?” Aleena asked.

  “Bryant and Schullman. I’m an architect there.”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was Jayne.

  JAYNE: YOU COMING BACK TO THE OFFICE TODAY?

  ME: I’LL BE THERE IN TWENTY MINUTES. EVERYTHING OKAY?

  JAYNE: STOP BY AND SEE ME WHEN YOU GET BACK.

  “It looks like I’m being summoned back to the office.” I slipped my phone back in my pocket.

  “It was grand meetin’ ya.” Flynn shook Aleena’s hand and then mine.

  “Enjoy your stay.” I pulled my hand away and took a step back. Sure Flynn was wildly interesting and I sorta wanted to count his freckles, but I wasn’t interested in men right now. And I certainly wasn’t going to break my dating fast on a tourist who’d be leaving the country in a few days. I slowly backed away until Aleena finally got the hint and waved goodbye.

  “What was the rush?”

  “No rush. I’ve got to get back to work.”

  “Uh huh.” Aleena looked disgusted.

  “What? I have a job, you know.”

  “And that was all about the job. A gorgeous guy can’t take his eyes off you and looks like he might ask you out, and you’ve got to get back to work.”

  “I’m not dating right now.”

  “Charlotte, it’s been six months.”

  “Your point?”

  Aleena groaned. “My point is that you’ve avoided guys long enough. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

  “I’m not ready yet. Besides, he’s visiting. He won’t even be here that long.”

  Aleena shrugged. “Sounds perfect to me. Good looking guy. Great accent. No pressure. Perfect situation to ease you back into dating. A no-stress rebound guy. Think about it.”

  I shook my head. “So you’re saying I should use him?”

  “That sounds so harsh. It could be mutually beneficial. You use him to help you ease back into dating and he uses you as a tour guide. It sounds like a win win.”

  We reached my car. “Maybe you should date him.”

  “I’m not the one he kept looking at.” Aleena hugged me.

  “Thanks for lunch.”

  I walked straight to Jayne’s office when I got back to work. When she heard me, Jayne looked up. Her face scared me. Had someone died? “Jayne, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh Charlotte.” Tears sprang into Jayne’s eyes. She leaned back in her chair and covered her mouth. Her eyes were tortured.

  “Jayne, are you okay?” She shook her head in response. I sat in a chair across the desk from her and leaned forward. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Kyle’s engaged.”

  I collapsed back in the chair, my legs splayed at odd angles. Thoughts and emotions exploded and faded like a fireworks display. Shock flashed red and died away. Envy blasted green and fell at my feet. Searing disappointment burst through my heart and then slowly paled to a dull ache.

  Of course he was. What did I expect? Why would Kyle be any different than anyone else?

  “I feel so bad that I ever joked about this with you? I didn’t want him to marry anyone but you. I kept thinking you two would work it out. I’m so sorry.”

  I pulled myself out of my chair and Jayne hurried around the desk. “Don’t feel bad,” I managed as she hugged me.

  “But I do.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t. It’s okay.” I pulled away and stepped to the doorway. “Kyle deserves to be happy.” I turned away. I couldn’t risk Jayne’s tears melting me into a puddle.

  Kyle was getting married. I should have asked Jayne who he was marrying, but I didn’t really want to know.

  Who was I kidding? Of course I wanted to know. Was she pretty? Did she come from a political family? How old was she?

  As soon as I got to my office, I pulled up google and typed: Kyle Aldsworth engaged. Then I clicked on images.

  I almost choked. The first picture that came up was Kyle and me, walking out of the Mercy House benefit. That was a bit of cruel irony.

  Then I saw the second picture.

  Of course.

  You’d think as many times as I had gone through this, I would have been prepared. Just like Martha Stewart can whip together a pound cake with her eyes closed, I should be able to work through my husband maker routine with a minimal recipe. Take one Charlotte. Add one man. Date. Break up. Count the weeks until he’s engaged. (Except for Jered. With Jered I only had to count the days—eleven, in case you’re curious.) Watch man get married. Repeat.

  It was almost as simple as the instructions on a shampoo bottle. In theory. In practice, not so much.

  I had been through minor variations of this recipe more than a dozen times in the last nine years. Fourteen if I counted Kyle. And why wouldn’t I count him? Although we hadn’t made it to the engagement stage, he was probably the most serious relationship I had ever had. We’d loved each other.

  I still loved him.

  I wanted to rewind the day and not come back to Jayne’s office. If I could return to lunch, I could step in a manhole on my way to my car and break my leg. A trip to the emergency room and six weeks on crutches was far preferable to the look of pity on Jayne’s face. A week in traction would hurt less than finding out Kyle was engaged.

  Sadly, I wasn’t in the emergency room. I had come back to the office, sat across from a teary Jayne, and learned Kyle was getting married. In a shell-shocked state, I had returned to my desk and foolishly entered the words “Kyle Aldsworth engaged” under an arrangement of spring flowers that spelled “Google.” There was no going back. I’d seen the photograph.

  Even though we’d been apart for six months, I had loved Kyle every single day. If Cupid put me under oath in his courtroom of love, I would have to admit that there have been many times since we broke up when I’ve brought up his number (and his handsome face) on my phone and debated with myself whether or not I should call him. I’ve so desperately wanted to hear his voice that sometimes I’ve brushed my thumb over the call button, tempting fate to let me “accidentally” make the call. I’ve typed out at least a dozen texts telling him I made a mistake and I would do my best to be a good politician’s wife.

  I’ve never sent them.

  I’ve looked through the pictures on my phone hundreds of times—Kyle’s furrowed brow as he concentrated on making a perfect cheese ball, his athletic body jumping the wake behind the boat, the silly face he had made to try to get me to snort, and my favorite, Kyle sitting in the great room at Lake Tahoe. He was laughing at something his dad had said and I had the perfect angle to capture his laugh-lines, his interesting nose, and of course that smile.

  If anyone knew how many times I had looked at that picture in the last six months, they would probably have staged an intervention. About a month ago, I’d misplaced my phone. I tore the apartment to pieces before I finally found it in the bottom of the hamper. All I had thought about as I searched was that photograph. Not the pages of notes I kept on my phone for upcoming jobs or my dozens of contacts. Just that picture. When I found my phone, I emailed myself the photographs of Kyle. I didn’t want to risk losing them again.

  I’ve imagined Kyle doing the same thing. I’v
e pictured him pining over me, punching in my number and almost calling me, looking at pictures and wishing we hadn’t parted ways.

  My heart has wanted us to get back together. If only my stupid head could figure out a way to make it work.

  But now it didn’t matter. Kyle was engaged, which meant he hadn’t spent the last six months longing for me. He had probably deleted the photographic evidence that we had been in love. Maybe he’d even removed my number from his phone.

  For a few seconds, I let myself be angry with my best friend, Angus. I knew that was a completely irrational response, but if he were still dating Wyatt, Kyle wouldn’t be engaged to her.

  Yes, it’s Wyatt, but you probably already figured that out. I shouldn’t be surprised. They’re perfect for each other. And I don’t mean that in a snarky, Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber deserve each other kind of way. Kyle and Wyatt are really, truly perfect for each other.

  I looked back at the image on my computer. The photographer had captured them walking down the sidewalk, arm in arm, looking at each other and laughing. Wyatt’s wavy, red hair was swinging playfully and Kyle’s hair was... Kyle’s hair. Wyatt wore a flowing navy dress and looked like a supermodel, but that wasn’t what I couldn’t look away from. It was their eyes that squeezed my heart so hard it was a miracle it kept beating. Wyatt looked enchanted by what Kyle had just said and Kyle looked like he wanted to eat Wyatt for dessert. What more was there to say? The photograph could have been the movie poster for a romantic comedy. In fact, a casting director would have won an Oscar for casting these two opposite each other.

  It was more than I could take.

  I exited the story and pulled up my email.

  TO: JAYNE@JAYNEFIFE.COM

  FROM: CE@JAYNEFIFE.COM

  TIME: 1:18 P.M.

  SUBJECT: CAN I GO HOME?

  HEY, JAYNE. DO YOU MIND IF I CALL IT A DAY? I’VE GOT THE ADVENTURELAND THEME PARK MAP I CAN WORK ON FROM HOME.

  Less than a minute later, Jayne emailed back.

  TO: CE@JAYNEFIFE.COM

  FROM: JAYNE@JAYNEFIFE.COM

  TIME: 1:19

  RE: CAN I GO HOME?

  OF COURSE YOU CAN. PLEASE CALL ME IF I CAN DO ANYTHING.

  CHARLOTTE, I’M SO SORRY. YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

  I’D SAY HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND, BUT I DOUBT YOU WILL. PLEASE TRY THOUGH. I’LL SEE YOU MONDAY.

  TO: JAYNE@JAYNEFIFE.COM

  FROM: CE@JAYNEFIFE.COM

  TIME: 1:20 P.M.

  RE: CAN I GO HOME?

  DON’T BE SORRY. YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME. I’M FINE.

  I swallowed hard and fixed what I hoped was a normal expression on my face. I closed my office door and walked to the elevator, careful not to look in Jayne’s office. If she tried to comfort me anymore, I’d lose it, and that would make her feel even worse.

  The elevator door opened and Keith stepped out. Great!

  “Hey, Charlotte?” The smile left his face when he saw me, and his voice took on a tone of concern. “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yeah. Just starting my weekend a little early.”

  Keith studied my face. I could tell he wasn’t buying it, but thankfully, he let it slide. “Lucky you. See you Monday.”

  He watched my fake smile until the elevator doors closed. I collapsed into the corner. I tried not to cry, but all my bleary eyes could see was the movie poster I had created in my mind. “His First Lady” starring Kyle Aldsworth and Wyatt... Surely I’d heard Wyatt’s last name, but if I had, I couldn’t remember it. “His First Lady” starring Kyle Aldsworth and Wyatt Man Stealer.

  Now that was snarky, and I immediately felt bad for thinking it. A person can’t steal something from you if you’ve already given it away.

  Suddenly, like the storming of Normandy, the tears came.

  I spent the weekend in my room. I came out long enough to eat four Toaster Strudels on Saturday and a Cup O’Noodles on Sunday.

  Mia, my roommate, accepted my request that I be allowed to work undisturbed all weekend, even though she gave me a strange look and knocked on the door to ask if I was okay several times. I ignored phone calls from Jayne and my sister, McKayla. I would see Jayne on Monday and if it was important, McKayla would call again. Sunday evening, I ignored Aleena’s first three phone calls, but when my phone vibrated for the fourth time, I decided something might be wrong and picked up.

  “Where are you and why aren’t you answering your phone?” Aleena said.

  “I’m at home.” I ignored the second part of her question.

  “Are you coming?” I could hear voices and music in the background.

  “Coming where?”

  Aleena sighed. “Really, Charlotte?”

  I slogged through my swampy brain trying to figure out what I had forgotten. And then it hit me like David’s stone hitting Goliath, and I fell back on my bed from the force of it. “Oh no. Aleena, I’m so sorry. I’m a horrible friend.”

  “You can say that again. What are you doing that’s so important you forgot my birthday?”

  Aleena’s dad had closed his Chinese restaurant and was having a huge party for Aleena’s twenty-fifth birthday. She had made me promise weeks ago that I’d be there to help her get through the inevitable barrage of arranged dates her family and friends would try to push on her since she was rapidly turning into an old maid. And I had let her down. “I’m so sorry. I have your present here and everything.”

  “Then get over here.” Her voice became muffled and quiet. “This is worse than I thought. Everyone my parents know is trying to marry me off to someone. Dad’s accountant even suggested I go out with his brother. He’s at least fifty.”

  I looked down at the pajamas I had been wearing for the better part of three days and sniffed my armpit. There was no way I could go anywhere without a full-on scouring. “I’m sorry, Aleena. I can’t. It’s been a horrible weekend. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Aleena didn’t respond right away, and I felt worse by the second. “What did you get me?” she finally asked, and I could tell she was trying to cover up her hurt feelings.

  “Something you’re going to love. I promise.”

  Again there was a long pause. “Good. I’ll swing by after the party and pick it up.”

  “Or I can bring it by the restaurant tomorrow.” If she was coming, I would have to fumigate my room and take a shower tonight, and I wasn’t sure I was up to the task.

  “Nope. I’ll be by about eleven.”

  Time to exorcise the stinky sloth and become a woman again.

  I showered, dried my hair, and put on clean sweatpants and a t-shirt. I shoved my pajamas into the hamper and generously sprayed disinfectant inside and around the basket. I picked up two boxes worth of tissues I’d used and tossed to the floor over the past two days. I closed the thirteen tabs that each had a picture or article about Kyle and Wyatt, and I opened the Adventureland project I hadn’t even thought about. Not that Aleena would know the difference, but it would be good if I could honestly tell Jayne I had looked at it over the weekend.

  The only thing I couldn’t remedy was my face. My eyes were red and puffy and my complexion splotchy. My Rudolph nose was actually peeling from wiping it so many times. I really should invest in tissues with lotion before my next heartbreak. Makeup only helped a little. Oh well. I would probably end up telling Aleena the truth anyway.

  I smiled when I opened the door just after eleven.

  Aleena cocked her head to the side and looked me up and down. “You look horrible.”

  “Gee, thanks. You look beautiful.” She really did. Her hair was up, showing off her high cheekbones. Her knee-length dress had a full skirt and looked like blue delft China, matching her unusual blue eyes.

  “I know I look good tonight. It was my party. I want to know why you look so awful. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought you were here to get your present?” I pulled Aleena into my bedroom and sat her on the end of the bed. Then I handed her th
e wrapped box I had pulled out of the closet.

  “I’m not opening this until you tell me what’s wrong. Are you sick?”

  “No. Not unless you mean heartsick.” I laughed, trying to pass it all off as a joke, but Aleena didn’t join me. I plunked myself down on the bed and pulled my feet up under me. “Fine. You’ll find out anyway.” I took a deep breath. “Kyle’s engaged.”

  Aleena shook her head. “I knew it.”

  “You did?” I asked.

  “I was trying to figure out what would be so horrible that would make you forget my birthday, and I thought it must have something to do with Kyle.”

  I sighed. “I’m pathetic.”

  Aleena looked sad but didn’t disagree with my assessment. “I told you the other day, Charlotte. It’s time to move on. Do you believe me now?”

  I shrugged.

  “Charlotte, you can’t just sit here and wallow.”

  “Why not? I’ve wallowed all weekend and look how great I am.” I tried to laugh again, but it came out as a sad, little sob.

  Aleena reached out and patted my leg. “Wallowing isn’t working for you. You really look dreadful.” She continued to pat my leg as she thought. “I’m taking over your love life for you.”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “I’m not. I opened a fortune cookie tonight and I think it was supposed to be yours.”

  I rolled my eyes. “If you opened a fortune cookie tonight, it’s yours.”

  “I’m giving it to you.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work,” I said.

  Aleena waved me away and let out a little puff of air between her lips. “My fortune. My rules. Want to know what it said?”

  I bit. “Fine. What did it say?”

  “Romance will come to you from foreign lands.”

  “You’re totally making that up.”

  Aleena grabbed her clutch and started digging through it. “Why do you always doubt me? I promise that’s what it said.”

  “Not to be mean, but you should keep any fortune that’s about romance. You’re in the same boat I am.”