The Sweetheart Rules

by Shirley Jump

  It was all so simple and ordinary that it made him want to cry, but he was fifteen, almost a man, so he sucked it up and just nodded instead. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  A little while later, Jackson and his mother were settled on the sofa, with Mary sitting underneath them, watching for any potential pizza crust to come her way. On the TV, a tornado was sucking sharks out of the ocean and wreaking havoc on a small town. It was a stupid, crappy movie, but it was also the best night Jackson could remember in a long time.

  He wanted more nights like this, and less of this feeling like he didn’t belong anywhere. His mother had been right about the kids in ForgottenTown. As soon as he was gone, they’d stopped texting and calling. Out of sight, out of mind; friendships evaporating in seconds. But now he felt lost, like he was floundering through his life, looking for the right life preserver. When a commercial came on, Jackson put down his pizza and turned to his mother. “Mom, I was thinking, maybe I could, like, talk to someone. I’ve been kinda having trouble lately.”

  “I’ve been having trouble, too, Jackson. And while I agree that maybe talking to a professional is a great idea, I think it’s high time you and I talk. For real, about the hard stuff we never talked about before.” Then she muted the television and began to tell him a true story about dangerous paths and bad choices and finding strength from others. It was a story he’d never heard before, but one that explained so much, and by the time she was done, Jackson was telling her about how he was struggling to find his way at Prince Academy, and how he didn’t fit in, and how he’d made bad choices to try to blend with the others.

  When he finally went to bed, his belly as full as his heart, Jackson realized he had finally, truly come home. Mary curled at the foot of his bed, and everything was perfect in his world.

  • • •

  Two in the morning.

  They say nothing good happens at that time of the night, but when Mike heard the doorbell and came downstairs to find Diana standing on his doorstep in a pair of striped pajama pants and a pink V-necked T-shirt, he debated the wisdom of that saying. Because it was damned good to see her, even in the middle of the night.

  “Jackson’s home,” she said.

  Okay, so he’d been hoping she was on his doorstep for more than a status update, but he was glad to hear her son was safe and sound. “Things didn’t work out with his dad?”

  She shook her head. “Sean also dropped the custody suit. I got a text from him a little while ago. Apparently he didn’t think that it was ‘going to work out to have a kid tagging along,’ as he said.” She sighed. “Maybe one of these days he’ll realize what he’s missing.”

  “I hope he does.” Mike thought of the two little girls asleep upstairs, surrounded by books and teddy bears and a promise of a future with their father in Florida. “Because I’m damned glad I did before it was too late.”

  She smiled. She looked so sexy and comfortable standing there, her hair loose around her shoulders and those hot-pink toes peeking out of flip-flops. “You’re a good father.”

  “I don’t know if I’m going to win any awards just yet.” He let out a short laugh. “I’m working on it, though.”

  “You know, just before he went to bed tonight, Jackson asked me a question that got me thinking, and is also what got me out of bed and over here to talk to you.” She tipped her head and a teasing smile curved across her face. “He said, ‘Mom, are you going to marry Mike? Because he’d be good for you, and he’s the kind of guy most kids want for a dad.’”

  The compliment floored Mike. He’d had no idea that he had gotten through to the teenager or that he thought enough of him to tell his mom she should marry him. “Smart kid you got there.”

  “Brilliant, if you ask me, but I’m a little biased.” She shifted her weight, then drew in a breath. “Listen, I didn’t come over here in the middle of the night to tell you about Jackson. I have some other things to tell you. Things I should have said a long time ago. It may change everything between us, but that’s a risk I’m going to have to take.”

  The words gave him pause, but he opened the door wider and ushered her in. “Come on in, then. The girls are asleep and I have leftover cake that my mom baked for me. All serious conversations are better over cake, I’ve found.”

  Diana stopped in the doorway. “You saw your mom today?”

  “You’re not the only one who waited a long time to say the things that should be said. I’m glad I went, and not just for the dessert.” They headed down the dark hall toward the kitchen. A small light burned over the sink, casting the room with a soft white hush. He dished up two generous servings of cake, then put on a pot of decaf.

  Diana accepted the dessert, but didn’t eat. She fiddled with the fork, then laid it across the plate. “You were right about me not talking about the hard stuff. I’ve learned in the last few days that actually opening up the vault that’s my personal space has drawn me closer to the people I care about, not further away. I’ve been so afraid to tell you about myself, partly because I was afraid you’d leave and partly because I was afraid you… wouldn’t.”

  “I haven’t gone anywhere yet, Diana.” He covered her hand with his. The coffeepot glub-glubbed in the background, and the dishwasher ran through a rinse cycle. It all smacked of home, of settling down. A month ago, the domesticity would have had Mike running for the hills, but now, with Diana in his kitchen and his daughters asleep upstairs, he couldn’t think of another place in the world he’d rather be. Given that she had shown up at his doorstep in the middle of the night, he was betting Diana felt the same. “And I’m not going anywhere now.”

  “You surprise me,” she said. “When I first met you, I thought, here’s a guy who’s going to be gone faster than the sun can rise. The one thing I do well is fall for the wrong guy. I did it back in high school, and I’ve done it a few times since. If there’s a guy out there with no staying power and no commitment, I attract him like a magnet, and then I fall head over heels for him. You know why?”

  He shook his head.

  “Because it’s safe. Because I know he’s just going to leave, so I can have this crazy infatuation and delusion of love, and then it’s gone when he’s gone, and I’m back in my own world again. No risk, no getting close. Nothing real.”

  He swallowed the disappointment churning in his stomach. “So that’s what that was between us? A delusion?”

  “Back in January, yeah, it was. I got wrapped up in the fantasy and said I loved you, but I didn’t really know you and you didn’t really know me, so that’s all it was, a delusion, a fantasy. But this time…” She raised her gaze to his, and in the muted light, her green eyes were wide, shimmering pools. “This time it was real. I love you, Mike. I really do.”

  Joy burst in his heart, but he tempered the emotion until he had finished hearing her out. “And what’s so bad about that?”

  She laughed. “It scares the crap out of me, Mike.”

  “Hey, join the club. But I’m willing to take that risk if you are.”

  She rose from the table and crossed to the window over the sink. Outside, the town of Rescue Bay was cast in dark ebony peppered by the occasional porch light or street lamp. An approaching thunderstorm rumbled somewhere out in the Gulf, promising relief from the heat and humidity. “You don’t want me, Mike. I’m complicated and difficult and damaged.”

  “We’re all complicated and difficult and damaged.” He came up behind her, but didn’t touch her, even though he wanted to more than he wanted to breathe. “Oh, Diana, I have wanted you from the first second I saw you. Covered in puppies and soapy water.”

  The joke made her smile for a second. She turned away from the window, and back to him, her back to the sink, her hands on the counter. “I’m not all puppies and soapy water.”

  “Tell me, Diana.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Trust me.”

  Her eyes met his, and held for a long time. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe, just waited.r />
  “Only a handful of people know the truth about me,” she said. “I thought it was safer that way, because then they couldn’t judge me or reject me. I thought that made me strong, the whole I-don’t-need-help thing, but these last few days I’ve realized it makes me weak and vulnerable.” She shook her head and her voice broke. “I don’t want to be that way anymore, Mike.”

  “Oh, honey, if anyone understands how weak we can be when we’re pretending to be strong, it’s me.”

  A second ticked by, another. Diana gripped the counter tighter, then began to talk. “I started drinking at fourteen and drank my way through high school. Got pregnant at fifteen, and that woke me up for a while. I stopped drinking during pregnancy because I was so afraid that I’d hurt the baby. Then when Jackson was born… it got so difficult, so fast. My mother was gone a lot and Sean was unreliable at best, which left me home alone. With a colicky baby that I didn’t know how to take care of or soothe.”

  He thought of the early days with the girls and knew how Diana had felt. That whole feeling of helplessness that would fill him every time one of the girls cried and he didn’t know how to give them what they needed. He’d run from that, gone back to base, escaping, just as Diana had.

  “It started easily enough,” she went on. “A little drink, sometimes just one shot, to calm down, ease my nerves—or at least that’s what I told myself. Then one drink turned into two. Three. Until one night, my mother found me passed out on the floor while Jackson was crying in his crib, hungry and dirty and alone. She told me I either got help or she’d file for custody.”

  Mike let out a low whistle. “That must have been rough.”

  “It was. It was also a wake-up call. I did thirty days, got sober, went to meetings for years, and didn’t even come close to relapsing again until the night I found out Jackson was doing the exact same thing I did.” She pivoted toward Mike, and on her face, he saw a vulnerability that pulled at his heartstrings. This strong, amazing, impossible woman had faced so many challenges. “That’s why I haven’t settled down. That’s why I haven’t gotten married, or even come close. What kind of man wants a woman who once chose a bottle of rum over her own child?”

  “A man who understands how hard it is to be good to yourself. To forgive yourself.” He cupped her jaw and ran a thumb over her lip. Damn, he loved this woman, loved her in a way that made her pain his own. “You made a mistake, Diana. You felt guilty about it for a long time, but you fixed it and you moved on. You are a good person inside, one who will do whatever it takes to protect the people you love. I see that. Your son sees that. You need to see that.”

  “I’m afraid, Mike. Afraid of… failing again.”

  “Aren’t we all? The last thing in the world I want to do is screw up my kids, or let them down. Or screw up a relationship with the most amazing woman I have ever met. I don’t love you because you are perfect, Diana. I love you because you are flawed. Because you don’t always say the right thing or do the right thing, and because”—he touched her bottom lip again and smiled—“you bite your lip when you’re nervous and you put your heart into everything you do and you have this laugh that comes from somewhere deep inside you. It’s contagious. And so are you. If I wanted perfect, I’d marry a mannequin.”

  A smile curved across Diana’s face. “That’d be a mighty quiet life.”

  “There are some advantages to that.” He laughed, then took her hands in his. “You accept me, warts and all, and you make me want to be a better man. That’s what I call a perfect match.”

  She shook her head and let out a happy laugh. “How did I get so lucky to meet Mr. Right when he was masquerading as Mr. Wrong?”

  “You were sitting in a broken-down building that was almost beyond repair, rescuing puppies that were almost beyond hope. And you fell for a man who was almost beyond love. That’s when I knew you were the one. The only one.” He cupped her face and pressed a kiss to her lips. She dissolved into him, returning the kiss with a sweetness that melted his heart and tasted better than any cake ever would. After a long while, he drew back and just held her against his chest. “You never told me. What answer did you give Jackson?”

  “I told him I’d let him know in the morning.”

  He tipped her chin until those big green eyes were looking into his. “Are you going to make me wait that long, too?”

  “Yes.” Then she laughed and pressed a finger to her lips, feigning deep thought. “But you know, it is after midnight, so technically, it’s—”

  “Morning.” He dropped to one knee and took her hand in his. This time, he was going to do it right—not just the proposal, but the whole marriage, going into it with his eyes open and his heart connected to the only woman he’d ever truly loved. “Will you marry me and promise to keep me from being too neat, too organized, and too regimented?”

  “As long as you promise to remind me to have fun every once in a while and to never ever throw me in the ocean.”

  He pretended to think about that for a bit. “Okay. But I might have to renege on the ocean part. Because if you’re wearing that white bikini, I am going to want to see what it looks like when it’s wet.”

  “That can be arranged, Mr. Stark.” She rose on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips. She tasted of honey and chocolate and happiness. “In the very, very near future.”

  “That sounds perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Then Mike gathered Diana into his arms and kissed her again, and when the dawn broke and she was still in his arms, he realized that on this particular mission, he hadn’t just rescued his kids or Diana or his future; he’d also rescued himself.

  Epilogue

  Esther dashed into the morning room, her hair in disarray, her dress misbuttoned and a trail of fabric spilling out of her quilting bag and onto the floor like a multicolored train on a runaway bride. “We have an emergency, ladies! A real, honest-to-goodness emergency!”

  Greta scowled. She’d barely had a chance to drink her Maker’s Mark and already Esther was spoiling the day. “My Lord, Esther, it is nine in the morning. There is no emergency that happens at that time of day except for an overflowing toilet after you’ve had your bran muffin.”

  Pauline nodded her head in agreement, then went back to her People magazine. Behind the picture of Brangelina, Greta noticed Pauline stifling a smile.

  “We need to get quilting. Right now,” Esther said. “I just found out my granddaughter is having twins. Two! I only have one quilt done and she’s ready to deliver at any moment. Greta, do you have any spare squares? I need…” She counted on her fingers, then shook her head, tried again. “A lot.”

  “Do I look like a woman who quilts more than she needs to?” Greta shook her head, then plucked a muffin out of the bowl on the buffet table. “Here, Esther, have a muffin. You’ll feel better with some carbohydrates. Besides, we have somewhere important to go today.”

  “But the quilt—”

  “Will be here when we get back.” Greta put an arm around Esther’s ample shoulders. “Wouldn’t you rather see our work in action? Yet another happy ending, brought to you courtesy of Common Sense Carla.”

  “And a little B&E by Pauline and Greta,” Pauline added under her breath. Greta snatched the People magazine out of Pauline’s hands and swatted her with it. Pauline just laughed.

  With extra muffins in tow, they all piled into Pauline’s Cadillac and headed across town. Esther fretted about the quilt the entire trip, until Greta handed her a paper bag and told her that if she didn’t breathe in it, Greta was going to cram it down her throat.

  Okay, so sometimes Greta got a little impatient. But she had her own priorities today, and Lord help her, they did not involve quilting.

  They pulled into the shelter parking lot a little after ten. The fall adoption event was well under way, with perky balloons decorating the front of the building and a temporary kennel set up outside holding all the pets available to good homes. A banner hung on the front of the building, advertising a two-fo
r-one kitten adoption. Apparently Lois Winston’s calico had gotten busy with Tom Reynold’s tomcat and there were kittens galore in Rescue Bay this month.

  “Well, would you lookie there. Harold’s here.” Pauline waved to the mismatched, white-haired figure across the lot. “Hello, Harold! Nice to see you!”

  Greta batted at Pauline’s arm. “Will you quit that? You only encourage him.”

  The dog at Harold’s side let out a bark, then tugged his leash out of Harold’s hand and came sprinting across the grassy lawn. He darted up to Greta and began licking her palm. She fished in her pocket and withdrew a dog biscuit. The terrier mix took the treat and gobbled it up, then plopped down beside Greta, tail wagging.

  “Looks like Harold’s dog knows you awfully well,” Esther said. “I thought you said you avoided him like the plague.”

  “I do. But I like to take walks and so does Chester here.” Greta wagged a finger at Esther. “Just because Harold comes along sometimes doesn’t mean I like him or enjoy talking to him. I’m merely trying to improve my health.”

  Pauline snorted something that sounded a lot like bullshit under her breath. Esther paled and turned away from the two of them, muttering about how they gave old ladies a bad name or some such nonsense. Greta made a mental note to spike Esther’s coffee in the morning.

  Harold marched over to them and picked up Chester’s leash. “Why hello, ladies.” He gave Greta a nod. “And Greta.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “We are not here to talk to you. We are here to see how Mike and Diana are doing.”

  “Just fine, if you ask me.” He gestured toward the couple, standing together at the information table, while Mike’s little girls walked over to the kennel with Jackson, Diana’s son. The three of them were holding hands, one girl on each side, like an instant family of siblings. Greta heard that Mike had gotten primary custody of his daughters while his ex and her new husband were busy living life as newlyweds in Vegas. It was clearly the right choice for the girls to stay with their father—the perfect choice, really.