Marrying Mister Perfect

by Lizzie Shane

  And it was a problem. He’d been ignoring it because, well, if he was honest, he had a tendency toward tunnel-vision and ignored everything that wasn’t right in front of his nose, but now that Miranda had pointed it out, he couldn’t help but see it.

  It wasn’t just French Fridays. It was obvious now even in the DVDs lined up on Lou’s keeper shelf. Midnight in Paris. Roman Holiday. Sabrina. Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. La Vie En Rose. Amelie. Even Ratatouille.

  Every one an escape to an exotic locale.

  She’d asked if he was unhappy, and the question seemed almost ludicrous.

  He had a great job and two amazing kids he couldn’t possibly love more. He lived with his best friend, who was a wonderful, patient mother figure. He wasn’t going to lie—some sex would be nice, but dating was complicated with two kids and Lou to consider. He wasn’t hungry to fall in love. His life was already full.

  But Lou deserved more. She deserved to be free to see the world like she’d always dreamed. Or if she decided not to, she deserved to be with someone who would love her to distraction. Someone she didn’t feel obligated to help out because he was a barely-functional single-dad widower.

  She deserved happiness.

  And if this would give that to her? He would do it without a single regret. He owed her that.

  So. Logistics. If this was really happening… Was he really considering this?

  “I guess we should talk to Miranda.”

  Chapter Five

  “Thank you so much for letting us take over your home, Miss Doyle. Cream?”

  Lou watched numbly as one of the countless TV people reached into her fridge and offered her a splash of her own cream.

  “It’s Tanner,” she corrected. She was turning over a new leaf. No more pretend—which was especially ironic with the reality television people descending on them. “I don’t take—”

  “Hey, lady, our volt-meter’s busted. How many amps can this outlet take?” A man who looked like an electrician waved a handheld electronic device in her direction—gaffer? Gripper? She thought his title started with a ‘g’ but she couldn’t be sure.

  No one introduced themselves by names, it seemed. They all threw out titles she didn’t understand instead—PA, segment producer, field producer. Fully half of them seemed to be producers of some kind. They swarmed the house, firing questions at her and tromping through the rooms with equipment, looking for the most “home-like atmosphere” to shoot the advance footage of Jack in his natural environment.

  Lou shook her head at the G man—grapher?—trying to get her bearings. “Amps?”

  “So it must be Dr. Doyle who takes cream. Got it.” The Cream Crewperson tapped something into her tablet with a stylus.

  “Amps, volts. I need to know how much power I can run through this outlet. I’m trying to protect your electrical system here, lady.”

  “We have circuit breakers. You flip the switches. That’s all I know.”

  The G crew guy gave her the you-are-such-a-moron-I’m-amazed-you-can-breathe-without-assistance look all the Hollywood people had been giving her for the last two days and heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll figure it out myself.”

  He had just stepped out of the kitchen when a plastically perky woman with unnaturally red hair appeared in the doorway. “Miss Doyle—”

  Lou bared her teeth in a smile that felt a little feral. “Tanner.”

  “Could you help us handle the children? We’re ready to shoot Dr. Doyle’s first fireside-confessional sequence and they’re disrupting the crew.”

  Good.

  Lou smothered that unhelpful sentiment and picked her way across the cables snaking through the kitchen doorway. It was hard not to be irritated with all the people intruding on their lives, poking around in their possessions and turning everything upside down. Especially knowing all of this was designed to package Jack as Mr. Perfect and take him away from her.

  The crew members were absolutely angelic toward Jack—fawning over him and constantly working to make sure he was in a good head space. They seemed to enjoy the kids and they weren’t precisely rude to Lou. They just didn’t seem to understand what her purpose was—and everyone on set had to have a purpose. And her house was now a set.

  The living room was cluttered by lights and cameras, but she immediately spotted Jack at the center of it all, perfectly lit and looking like a king in the armchair the producers had put in front of the fireplace. Lou didn’t recognize the throne-like chair, but she wasn’t surprised the show people had deemed their furniture not sufficiently “home-like” and brought in their own for the effect they were trying to create.

  It took her a bit longer to spot Emma and TJ amid the crew people swarming behind the cameras. When she did see them, Lou laughed out loud. Disruptive was putting it mildly. They were riding the primary cameraman like a pony. He didn’t seem to mind, but the redhead segment producer looked like she was one “giddy-up” away from strangling them both. Or whacking them with the tablet held clenched in her manicured hands.

  “Em. TJ,” she called them over, taking pity on the tablet wielding redhead. “Come sit on the couch with me. We can watch Daddy get interrogated.”

  “Yeah!” The kids immediately scrambled off their pony and climbed over the nearest crew member to bounce up on the couch. Lou plopped in between them and secured an arm around each one to keep them from escaping. A metal light stand partially blocked their view of their father, but otherwise they had the best seats in the house. Emma burrowed into her side, settling in, as TJ wriggled and bounced, too wired to sit still.

  The two of them had been remarkably receptive to the idea of their father going on the show—or perhaps not so remarkably since TJ had figured out almost immediately that California was where Disneyland was and they could trade in their father’s abandonment guilt for no less than three trips to the Magic Kingdom when they flew out to visit him.

  They were treating the arrival of the crew and the upheaval in their lives as a giant game—and why wouldn’t they? They were kids. They couldn’t visualize what it was going to be like without Jack in their day-to-day lives for eight weeks. Or how this would drastically change their lives when he got back.

  Lou, however, had no trouble visualizing. She couldn’t seem to stop.

  Miranda appeared, kneeling in front of the three of them with a warm smile and her own tablet tucked against her chest. “Lou, we really need Jack to be able to focus right now. Do you think you could take these two little monsters—” She winked at the kids, making Emma giggle. “—on an outing? Give us a few hours—”

  “No, let them stay,” Jack requested from the chair. All crew eyes turned to him and a little hush fell over the room as the king made his proclamation. “I’ll be more relaxed if they’re here.”

  Miranda glanced back and forth between Jack and the kids, her smile never faltering—and Lou realized what a good actress a reality television producer needed to be. Miranda gave a little nod and broadened her smile. “Good point, Jack. We want you as relaxed and natural as possible.” She turned back to the kids, putting on an over-exaggeratedly stern face. “But you two need to be absolutely quiet. Remember. Shh!”

  The kids giggled and mimed locking their lips and throwing away the key. Miranda winked at Lou and then straightened, turning the force of her personality back on Jack.

  “Jackson Doyle. Are you ready to fall in love?”

  Jack blinked, visibly startled. “Um. Yeah. Yeah, that’d be great.”

  “Excellent. So Jack—a few ground rules as we’re getting warmed up. Remember that all the questions I’m going to be asking are going to be edited out, so you need to repeat them in your answers. So when I ask you if you’re ready to fall in love, you say…”

  “I’m ready to fall in love,” Jack parroted obediently.

  “Perfect. But then you are Mr. Perfect, aren’t you?” Miranda grinned, somehow making the cheesy line work with her self-deprecating laugh.

  Lo
u watched her old friend, fascinated to see this side of her—blatantly manipulative, but somehow seeming less manipulative because she was being so obvious about it, and still getting exactly the results she was angling for. Had Miranda always had this skill? If not, how long had it taken her to build up this reality persona?

  Miranda quickly checked with the crew, getting thumbs up all around and turned to Jack, seating herself so she matched the camera’s eye level. “All right, Jack. Let’s start with an easy one. Tell us why you’re looking for love.”

  For a split second, an expression of deer-in-headlights horror flashed across Jack’s face. Lou bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. This was going to be more interesting than she thought. Jack Doyle was about to talk about his feelings on national television. She only wished she had popcorn.

  Four hours later, after dropping Emma and TJ off at Kelly’s for a play-date with the twins, Lou slipped in the back door and through the kitchen to peek into the living room. Poor Jack was still in that chair, suffering through the Interview that Would Not End.

  Lou had grabbed the kids and abandoned him after the first solid hour of “Remember, Jack, it’s never a show, it’s always an experience or a journey” and “Jack, honey, don’t talk about the process like it isn’t real life. This journey is about finding true love. It doesn’t get any more real than that” and “Jack, baby, don’t look at the crew. They aren’t here, okay?”

  Now Lou slipped silently into the living room and tucked herself behind a large, reflective screen one of the lighting people had put up near the bay windows. It was the perfect place to eavesdrop as Miranda coached Jack through the questions. Not that listening in on an interview being conducted in the middle of her living room counted as eavesdropping. She just didn’t particularly want to be the recipient of any more of the crew’s what-the-hell-is-your-purpose-here looks. Staying out of sight was much more appealing.

  Lou heard Jack clear his throat and tuned in to what he was saying into the microphones.

  “Gillian was… she was so alive. I think that’s part of why her death came as such a shock.”

  Lou went still behind the screen. She hadn’t heard Jack talk about Gillian’s death in years.

  “When Emma was born, there were complications. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.” Jack expelled a short breath. “I was a mess at first, laying guilt on myself—the brilliant surgeon who couldn’t save his own wife. I don’t know what I would have done without Lou. She was my sanity those first few weeks. She stepped in, took care of Em and TJ and most of the funeral stuff, and I let her. I know I relied on her too much, but I’d just started my internship. The hours were insane and Lou was amazing. She got me back on my feet. I can never repay that debt. I—”

  “Cut!” Miranda’s too-chipper voice blasted through Jack’s heartfelt confession like dynamite. “Let’s take ten, shall we? I think we could all use a break. Good stuff, Jack. Really great.”

  Lou wanted to scream. Why did Miranda have to interrupt him? She’d never heard him open up like that about that awful time right after Gillian died. And she had certainly never heard him talk about her that way. What had he been about to say next? Could he have feelings for her that ran deeper than friendship and gratitude?

  A pair of lowered voices on the other side of the screen where she was hiding startled her out of her musings.

  “Still can’t get him to cry on camera?”

  “I really thought playing the dead wife card would do it, but the man is made of stone. He’s barely even gotten misty and I’ve thrown everything I’ve got at him.”

  Lou identified the first voice as coming from the startlingly fashionable young man with an effeminate air who had been hovering near Miranda all afternoon. Todd. She wasn’t sure whether he was Miranda’s assistant or another of the ubiquitous producers. The other voice was definitely Miranda herself.

  “We’ll get him. Just keep at it. The viewers love tears.”

  Miranda hummed agreement. “He’s a natural. The screen tests were good, but today… are you seeing this? The material we’re getting is golden. Though he is talking about Lou a lot more than I expected. It seems like on every question we always end up winding around and talking about her.”

  “That’s what editing is for, darling,” Todd purred. “Sweet Lou is going to spend a lot of time on the cutting room floor.”

  “I’m more worried about the girls. If he’s talking about her in front of them constantly, they’re going to start to wonder if he’s really emotionally available.” Lou heard a staccato rattling sound—acrylic nails drumming against a tablet case. “Especially since they live together.”

  “It won’t just be the girls. She’s cute, in that wholesome Midwestern way. Viewers are going to wonder if there’s more to that relationship than just a live-in nanny,” Todd commented.

  Miranda hummed again—a sound Lou remembered from when she was thinking. “We might have to cut her out of the footage entirely.”

  Lou sucked in a breath. Of course they wanted to cut her out of her life. It wasn’t really her life, was it? Just a borrowed family. But to hear Miranda say it. Her supposed friend…

  “It wouldn’t be hard,” Miranda went on. “During the Meet the Family episodes, we can focus on the kids and how maternal the various candidates are.”

  “Or how maternal they aren’t.” Todd snickered. “Make sure he keeps in a couple of the worst mommy candidates until the family visit. The ratings will be great for sweeps. You know how the viewers love having someone to root against.”

  Miranda snorted. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Even for Sexy Jack. The hottest ones are almost always the most self-absorbed and they tend to last without any help from me. One of them is bound to be a train wreck with kids.”

  Lou held herself perfectly still behind the screen. She couldn’t reconcile Miranda her friend with the woman who spoke with mercenary glee about the ratings spike if Jack brought home someone who was a disaster with children.

  Did he know what he was getting himself into? It had all happened so fast, a whirlwind of psychological evaluations and screen tests and nondisclosure agreements.

  “Oh good, Jack, you’re back. Shall we get back to it?” Miranda’s heels clicked on the hardwood floors as she crossed to the fireplace. “Why don’t we talk about some of the qualities you’re looking for in a wife?”

  Lou couldn’t have moved then if she wanted to. She needed to hear this answer. That was the fifty million dollar question, wasn’t it? What was he looking for in a wife?

  A small part of her still hoped he would describe her—and realize he was describing her and leap up from the chair and declare that he couldn’t do the show because he was madly in love with her and had been for years without even realizing it.

  Yeah. It could totally happen.

  From her hiding place, she could see half of a monitor filled with Jack’s smiling face. He twinkled for the camera in a way that doubtless made Miranda giddy just thinking of the rating jump.

  “I’m looking for someone I can share life’s adventures with, whether that means skydiving in Tahiti or running into the kitchen with a fire extinguisher because my kids have tried out a new experiment in the oven.” He gave a low chuckle and Lou smiled softly to herself. She wasn’t much of a skydiver, but when it came to domestic adventures, she was a pro.

  “I’d like to find a woman who really wants to be a mother, not just someone who is willing to tolerate my kids. That’s crucial. She has to love Emma and TJ. There’s no negotiating on that point.”

  Lou’s stomach curdled as she thought of the show dragging the worst mommy candidates through the process until the home visit. She didn’t like the idea of Emma and TJ meeting any of the women, but it wasn’t her decision. Jack had signed them up for this, embracing the whole experience with his usual single-minded determination. Lou could choose not to sign the waiver to be included in the show, but she couldn’t keep Emma and TJ from being used
for ratings. Another bitter reminder that they weren’t really hers to protect.

  “What attracts you to a woman?” Miranda prompted.

  “What attracts me?” Jack’s brow furrowed, as if he was reaching way back into his memory for the answer. “Energy. I’m definitely attracted to vivacious women.”

  Lou felt the hope that had been growing inside her at his earlier answers start to shrink. Gillian had been vivacious. Lou had always been quieter. People used words like reliable and nice to describe her. She’d never had Gillian’s bounce. Jack had loved that bounce.

  “Passionate, definitely. Driven.”

  Lou cringed. The part of her that went after her goals with passion and determination had gone dormant somewhere in the last four years of her stable, comfortable routine. She hadn’t dreamt of Paris and Prague in so long it almost felt like her ambition to see the world belonged to another person. Along with the passport she’d gotten years ago. The one that was about to expire without a single stamp in it while she was here, waiting for a kiss that was never going to come.

  “She has to be fearless and confident. There is something so sexy about a woman who will take a risk with her heart.”

  That had never been Lou. She wasn’t sexy—wholesome—and she didn’t take risks. That was why she was infatuated with the man she’d lived with for the last four years and he didn’t have a clue how she felt. Because she was a coward to the bone. Not that it would make any difference if he knew.

  Would it?

  What would happen if she told him? She’d always hesitated for fear it would ruin their friendship and she would lose him. But she was already losing him. Everything was changing.

  He was going to LA in just a few days to look for the love of his life, but maybe the one he was supposed to fall in love with was right here under his own roof. Didn’t he deserve to know the truth before he left? Maybe if he knew, he would stay. Maybe, just maybe, he secretly loved her too.