12 Steps to Mr. Right

by Cindi Madsen

  “Yeah, I try to get down here every weekday around this time. I gotta say, though, this is the best view I’ve had in a while.” The line came out a little too smoothly, meaning he probably was more of a charmer than a committer, but then again, I could be smooth when I needed to be.

  “Well, maybe I should start coming more often, then.” See? Smooth. Add a flirty half smile and a bang sweep…

  “I hope you do. I’m Wade, by the way.”

  “Savannah.”

  “Maybe we should set up a time to grab a drink right now, just in case you don’t make it.”

  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, sometimes it really was just that easy.

  We arranged a meet-up, and Ivy and I headed toward the parking lot. Despite the evilness of running, we decided having it done felt good-ish, so we’d meet up at the park three times a week to talk and work out. We hugged before we climbed in our respective vehicles.

  When I pulled out my phone, I noticed my mom had called, which meant a) someone had announced their engagement, b) someone had announced a pregnancy, or c) someone had died. Somehow, all three of these things could be tied into my dating life, from was I seeing anyone to how I should hurry and get married because she wanted grandchildren to the most depressing, did I really want to die alone?

  I was always tempted to say technically, everyone dies alone, except for in cases like car wrecks or big natural disasters and such, and did she really want me to be involved in one of those—yeah, the Gambles owned the market on cheery phone and dinner topics.

  I almost called her back anyway, because you know, she gave birth to me and sprinkled love in amongst the guilt trips about her need for grandchildren, but then I noticed the red number bubble on my email box and the large number inside of it.

  Guess the rest of the day will be spent on email. Sorry, Mom. You’ll have to wait to give me the neighborhood gossip.

  Since it was Wednesday, I’d sent out my check-in email to my workshop attendees. It reiterated the first two steps and had shiny affirmation quotes in pretty fonts with sparkly backgrounds, so they’d remember what they should be focusing on and why. My mid-week emails never failed to generate more emails. While answering them all was time consuming, I wanted my attendees to know they could reach out.

  I froze when I spotted an email from an old client with URGENT! in the subject line.

  Please, please don’t let the wedding be called off. It’d be a PR nightmare for everyone involved, and worse, Annabeth would be crushed. I’d also personally helped vet the guy, and I’d seen the way they looked at each other. Maybe the pressure of the spotlight got to them.

  Worry rose up and claimed hold as the worst-case scenarios ran through my head. I’ve been accused of getting too involved, but the truth was, I didn’t know any other way to be with my clients.

  I opened the email and let out a relieved breath when it wasn’t bad news about Annabeth’s relationship. Her little sister, Amy Lynn, apparently needed a relationship intervention, and she was hoping I could meet up with them both as soon as possible. With her hectic schedule, she said she didn’t have a lot of time, but she was hoping I could swing lunch or dinner tomorrow.

  I didn’t even bother emailing back. I called her up, asked when and where, and then told her I’d be there.

  Chapter Five

  “So you see,” Amy Lynn said. “He’s committed to me—like, really committed. Things are just crazy right now thanks to this woman who’s trying to ruin his life.”

  The main problem with the woman supposedly trying to ruin his life was she claimed her baby’s father was Amy Lynn’s boyfriend.

  Annabeth looked at me, her wide eyes pleading for me to do something. Since I owed the woman a large portion of my success, I’d rearranged my schedule, dressed up in my most proper southern lady attire—pearls and all—and met her and her sister for tea at the Ritz Carlton. Glittering chandeliers hung around the room, the tables and chairs had that antique elegance that made you want to touch them while being afraid to touch them, and the china was so fancy I felt like the Queen of England herself might show up for a spot of tea.

  The conversation didn’t match our surroundings at all, but it was why I was here, so I dragged my attention from the room’s opulence and focused on the problem at hand. I set my teacup on the gold-gilded saucer in front of me, turned to Amy Lynn, and tried to find the right mix of tact and hard love. “But if he can’t completely deny the possibility, it means he slept with her, right?”

  Amy Lynn huffed out a breath, as if she couldn’t believe I brought that up, which hello, hard not to in a paternity discussion. “I know what you’re thinking, but we broke up for a little while. Then of course we realized we couldn’t live without each other—when we got back together, he told me that he was completely miserable without me.”

  Yeah. Except for the nights when he was with the other woman.

  “Jacob was just so upset about losing me that he made a mistake, and I think she’s claiming the child is his because she found out he was dating me.” Amy Lynn dabbed her lips with her white linen napkin and it came away with a smear of pink lipstick. “Once people learn that my sister is about to be the first lady of Atlanta, they find all sorts of imaginative ways to try to milk me for money. It’s not Jacob’s fault. If anything, being with me is making it harder on him, yet he chooses to stay anyway.”

  “Did he say that?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  Amy Lynn opened her mouth and then closed it, and I had my answer.

  Annabeth put her hand over her sister’s. “I know you love him, but how can you not see that you’re headed for heartbreak?” She turned to me. “Savannah, tell her about the red flags.”

  This sometimes happened with old clients. They figured because they’d gone through my program and changed, they could show friends and family members the way in one conversation. Well-intentioned, but there was a reason my class took eight weeks and had twelve steps. A frantic meeting over tea and fancy smoked salmon and cucumber sandwiches just wouldn’t be enough.

  I crossed my legs and folded my hands in my lap, trying to be as unassuming as possible. “There are definitely red flags, but I’d like to know more about the entire situation. Amy Lynn, I could meet with you and we could talk more about this and discuss what you really want out of the relationship—”

  “I want him! Once the dust settles on this paternity mess, we will get married—he told me so.”

  “All it’d take to settle the dispute is a DNA test, and those should take a week at most to get back,” I said.

  Amy Lynn scowled, her lips puckering. “But then courts will get involved, and it’s just… He has a lot of good qualities, my sister simply can’t see them because she’s already made her mind up about him.” She stood and the napkin slid from her lap and landed on the Oriental rug, a bland white spot in a sea of bright colors. “I need some fresh air.”

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really hoped you could get through to her, but she might be too far gone.”

  “You’ve got to remember that when you came to me, you wanted to change.”

  “But can’t you at least point out the red flags?”

  Yes, I could. From what I’d heard, the guy was the type who didn’t want to commit, but he liked having Amy Lynn in his life, so he half-committed. When she talked about marriage, instead of balking at it, he talked about it, too—in somedays. When things were settled. Once this mess was behind them.

  First it’d be this paternity issue, then it’d be right after he got a promotion at work. One someday after another, until he either gave in and married her anyway—unlikely; offered a smaller level of commitment like living together—possible; or she gave an ultimatum and he walked away, most likely blaming the ultimatum so he never had to assume any wrongdoing.

  “She’s my little sister, and my only family,” Annabeth said. “I mean, sure, I have William and his family now, but you’ve
met them. Business is mixed in with everything they do.” She put a hand on her chest, her red fingernails standing out against her yellow dress. “And while I love William enough to deal with the craziness that comes along with all of the politics, I need to know that my sister will be okay after I get married. I want her to find someone better, like I did. Not stay with that idiot who comes in and out of her life as he pleases and makes her cry more than he makes her happy.”

  “I completely understand, but unfortunately, we can’t force her to choose someone else. I’ll offer my services, fit her into my current workshop session—whatever I can do, I’ll do it. I just can’t promise it’ll work. I’ll have to give you the type of hope that goes something like, ‘if I can do anything about it, I certainly will, but please know there are other factors.’”

  “Ah, after a year involved in politics, that’s the kind of vague promise I’m used to.” Annabeth cracked a smile, relaxing the first-lady-to-be persona she now had to maintain in public, and it reminded me of when I first met her.

  Sick and tired of picking all the wrong guys, she’d stumbled across my blog and signed up for my workshop. As I lectured, she frantically scribbled notes, and I saw this lightbulb go off in her head.

  Shortly after she finished my program, she attended a charity auction, where she met one of the most eligible bachelors in all of Atlanta. As far as our city was concerned, William Caldwell and his family were right up there with the Kennedys. They had political power, wealth, and movie-star good looks.

  William also happened to be running for mayor at the time. He asked her out and I got a frantic phone call begging for advice. Fortunately, there was a ton of information about him online, which made it easier to search for red flags pre-date. I probably would’ve felt worse about digging so deep if I didn’t know his people were doing the same to Annabeth.

  The more comfortable she became with him, the less she needed my help. She still called to update me often, a string of excited high-pitched conversations, heavy on the I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-me, and we developed a friendship.

  A whirlwind six months later, William Caldwell won the mayoral race, and the next day he asked Annabeth to marry him. When a reporter asked how she’d managed to snag him, Annabeth replied that it was “all thanks to Savannah Gamble and her Twelve Steps to Mr. Right Program.”

  Enrollment skyrocketed, with every woman thinking I was the clue to snagging Atlanta’s next most eligible bachelor. A lot of pressure, let me tell you. So far she and William were my most high-profile couple, but a lot of my other attendees had found happy and successful relationships with nice, everyday-type guys, which kept my recommendation rate high.

  Annabeth glanced toward the front of the room, where her sister had disappeared. She scooted to the edge of her seat, scooping up her teacup in the process. “Let’s take a break from my drama and talk about you while we’ve got the chance. How’s work?”

  “Good. Just started a new session of my workshop. I can only hope they end up being as stellar students as you were.”

  She threw a hand over her heart and batted her eyes. “Aw, little ol’ me?” She laughed, then her expression morphed to a sympathetic one, and I knew what was coming. “And how’ve you been since… I know the breakup with Mason must’ve been hard. Just because you teach people about bouncing back doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt when your own relationship ends.”

  Besides Ivy, Annabeth was the first person to acknowledge that being a dating expert didn’t make me a robot when it came to my love life. “Honestly, I was sad for a while, but I’m getting back into the swing of things.”

  The reason I’d met Mason in the first place was because Annabeth had introduced us. He and William had gone to law school together and were tied up in the same political realm. Mason was attractive, motivated, and free of the usual red flags. During our relationship we were occasionally photographed with Annabeth and the now-Mayor Caldwell, and having documentation of a high-profile boyfriend was good for business, if bad for the heart.

  Annabeth gently placed her hand on my knee. “For what it’s worth, I know it was hard for him to leave. Because of you.”

  My almost mended heart cracked a bit. Nice to hear, I suppose, but he still left to take a position with one of the other 225 lawyers who worked at the Attorney General’s office. Logically I knew that people moved away and there wasn’t always a clean cut reason relationships ended; I’d just never thought that a relationship so right could end that way.

  Thanks to my job, I’d seen the cracks forming in my previous relationships and would end things as amicably as possible instead of drawing it out until they tore us apart. With Mason there’d been no indicators; suddenly it was just over.

  I told myself it was for the best. After all, if he had asked me to move with him, I might’ve gone and then had to start from scratch with my clientele, and I know I would’ve missed my family. On top of that, the crazy hours he’d have to work would’ve put more stress on the relationship, so we probably wouldn’t have made it anyway.

  But why hadn’t he wanted to try? Ugh.

  “He’ll be at the wedding,” Annabeth said, her voice soft. “I’m sure you assumed, but I wanted to give you a heads up.”

  On autopilot, I nodded. Of course I’d known, but with how focused I’d been on work, it hit me that the wedding was less than two months away now. I’ve got to get my life completely together before I run into him, because I refuse to pick myself up only to fall apart all over again.

  I refocused and put on a smile. “I’m so excited about your wedding.”

  “I’m so glad it’s almost here. Seriously, whose decision was it to plan a wedding during William’s first year in office?” She laughed and then her attention moved to a spot over my shoulder. I followed her gaze and noticed Amy Lynn making her way back toward our table.

  “If she and her boyfriend make it to the wedding, I’ll feel him out,” I said. “I’m afraid it’s all I can do until she decides she wants a change.”

  “I understand,” Annabeth said. “Thank you.”

  Amy Lynn sat down and there was definitely something haughty in her expression. “I talked to Jacob. He said that he’s just got to wait for this project to be done at work and then he’s going to get to the bottom of the paternity stuff so that he and I can move past it.”

  I decided now wasn’t the time to tell her that she had nothing to celebrate, because he’d only figured out a way to put off giving her a real answer for that much longer.

  Chapter Six

  The sound of a scraping chair broke through, tearing my attention from the article I’d been skimming on my computer screen. In an attempt to get out of my house a bit more and have the energy I needed for my current project, I’d headed to the Daily Grind first thing this morning.

  Linc sat across from me, his handsome face peering at me from over the top of my laptop. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” I’d decided not to put up a wall between us, but I was putting up a screen. It’d help filter out some of the charm and bullshit, and still provide a semi-barrier.

  “What’s a lottery winners’ cry?” he asked.

  Another glance revealed he had a newspaper and pen in his hand, and he’d already filled in part of the crossword puzzle on the page. “Eureka.”

  He hovered the pen over the spaces, counted under his breath, and then shook his head. “Doesn’t fit.”

  I stared at him for a moment, amused by the way his forehead scrunched up when he studied the spaces. “Seriously, grandpa? Who does crossword puzzles these days? Especially on paper? It’s the twenty-first century, you know. At least do it on your phone.”

  “I prefer the paper,” he said. “On the computer the letter shows up in red if it’s wrong, which feels like cheating. Every morning I start with the sports section and then flip to the crossword puzzle and fill it out throughout the day—don’t mock the routine.”

  “Speaking of routines, are you stalki
ng me? This is my coffee shop, you know.”

  He lowered the paper. “Sorry, Sheriff, I didn’t know we’d split up the town. And since this is the best place to grab a cup of joe in our neighborhood, I’d call it more of an inevitable run-in. Which is fortunate, because you clearly were never going to call me.”

  “I’ve been working.” I gestured at the computer, as if he’d need solid proof.

  “At the job you won’t tell me about?”

  “It’s not that I won’t tell you about it. I just didn’t want to get into it the other night.”

  Linc sat back and looked at me expectantly. Apparently we were doing this now.

  “Actually, I’m a dating expert—don’t laugh.”

  He held up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of it. And full disclosure, since you were so secretive about it, I got curious and looked you up. I read about how you teach people to become more strategic in their dating lives and take charge of finding the one.”

  I couldn’t tell if there was a hint of mocking as he quoted that line from my website, or if it simply didn’t sound right coming out of his mouth because it clashed with who he was. “Well then, sounds like you’re all informed. No need for me to bore you with the details.”

  “But how does it work? You train people to act a certain way on a date?”

  “Kind of. I help my clients read body language and practice small talk so they’re not so nervous. There are a lot of shy people, or people with anxiety, and dating can be stressful. Some are simply clueless about how to date, or what to say or not say when first meeting a person they’re interested in. I don’t want a client to pretend to be someone else, I just want her to be her best self until she’s comfortable enough to relax and experience a deeper relationship with the person she’s interested in.”

  “So, if I came to you and needed help—”

  “Pfft. Lincoln Wells needing advice on how to land women? That’ll be the day.”