12 Steps to Mr. Right

by Cindi Madsen

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I stuck out my tongue after my gulp of disgusting coffee. Since I was currently being a big ol’ wimp, I was avoiding the Daily Grind, just in case Linc showed up there.

  Radio silence prevailed for most of the week, but he’d texted me a couple of times over the past few days. Always late at night, with things like “What are you up to? I might get off early,” and “Are you awake? I just got home and was hoping you’d come keep me company.” Classic hookup texts.

  Before we’d defined the relationship, and without determining where we were at, I’d had sex with him. In a random office at the Atlanta freaking Speedway. Of course he thought we were hookup buddies. This was why I was harder on myself. Without my rules, I made stupid, rash decisions, and the kicker was, I knew better. I lived and breathed this stuff, and I still lost control and slipped during one lust-filled moment.

  Okay, long, amazing moments.

  Do not think about the sex. Another glug of too-thick coffee helped my shaky resolve come back into focus. I didn’t plan on continuing the avoiding route for long—my taste buds couldn’t take it, for one, not to mention it made me feel like even more of a fraud. But I was afraid seeing Linc or even simply hearing his voice might just undo me. While I was trying to be strong, exposing myself to my kryptonite would only weaken my defenses.

  First I needed to build them up and ground myself in my program—teaching Session Seven last night definitely helped.

  Seeing his name on my screen when I picked up my phone, on the other hand, did not. I’d composed a few replies ranging from falsely-detached to ragey, but I always advised my clients to avoid communicating while your emotions were too raw. Wait until you had a clear head so you wouldn’t say something you’d later regret. I still wasn’t there, which only hurt my wounded pride more.

  How could I have let myself stray so far from my own program?

  The how didn’t matter, though. Fixing it as quickly as possible did. In order to do that, I needed to get Lincoln Wells out of my head, from his sexy voice, to the way we laughed together, to the way he kissed and the mind-blowing sex I wasn’t going to relive anymore.

  Memory wipes were totally possible, right?

  On top of dealing with all of that, Ruby Upton’s article was in today’s paper. Steeling myself, I flicked through the thick pages until I landed on the right one. The article was full of girl power, painted my program in a good light, and would definitely be great PR. But she focused on that first guy and how that experience changed me more than I wished she had.

  More than I wished I had, too.

  The end detailed Annabeth’s and William’s upcoming wedding and included a quote from Annabeth.

  I reached this place in my life where I was frustrated with dating and sure there weren’t any good men out there anymore. But Savannah’s program changed everything, and the steps she taught me led me to finding my very own Mr. Right. Now, I’m going to walk down the aisle with someone I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with.

  Annabeth’s praise cut through my gloomy mood, lifting it from tumultuous thunderstorms to cloudy with a chance of rain.

  This is why I have to be strong, no matter how tempted I am to ignore the rules and the inevitable doomed ending and enjoy what time I can with Linc. I have to show my clients and attendees that waiting for the right guy is worth it. That putting in the hard work it takes to follow my rules will lead them to true, lasting happiness.

  When I went to fold the paper, it fell off the table and flipped open, right to the crossword puzzle. “Et tu, Brute?” I muttered, and the woman at the table over looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

  I supposed that was only fair, considering it felt like I had. I gathered the paper and my gross cup of coffee and pushed out of the shop, telling myself that walking the extra four blocks home was good for me, when really it only gave me more time to obsess about everything I was currently failing at.

  I need to call Ivy. Ask her to come over and give me a pep talk. I lifted my phone to call her, but it chimed and vibrated in my hand.

  Linc: WTH Savannah? I thought we agreed not to do this avoidance bullshit.

  My skin tightened uncomfortably, an itch forming underneath the surface. On the bright side, it didn’t say, “Hey, I read your article in the paper this morning and clearly the guy was me.”

  It did make me want to respond in anger, though, and a part of me wanted to say screw it all—I’ve already flunked my own program. Might as well tell him he started the avoidance bullshit, not only at the beginning of this week, but way back in college, so he could just point that finger back at himself, and go ahead and make it the middle one while he was at it.

  But I was determined to get back on track, and you didn’t exactly do that by veering farther from the path. I shoved my phone in my purse and crossed the street to get to my building. I took another sip of the coffee—which had only become more disgusting as it cooled—because at least it had caffeine. If anything would be my saving grace, it’d be focusing on work. Every time I reached the final sessions, I worried I hadn’t imparted enough to the women and planned new ways to cram as much as possible into that last meeting.

  The ending always turned bittersweet. I hated to say good-bye, especially to the attendees I’d become attached to, but I also experienced excitement over the prospect of them getting out there and finding their own Mr. Rights.

  Something I needed to continue to do for myself. Moping around would only put me further behind, and Linc had already left me two months off schedule there.

  Problem was, I didn’t feel as cheery about the thought of any of it as usual. Probably because deep down I knew I needed to let Linc completely go, but the thought of doing so tore me up inside. Another point for avoidance.

  Clearly I had my dating life under control. I needed me to sit across from me and have an intervention. Unfortunately, having that talk with myself might mean that I needed a different kind of intervention.

  In an attempt to expend the anxious energy coursing through me, I took the stairs up to my loft. I’d barely made it to the couch when someone knocked on my door. Afraid it’d be Linc, I crept across the room as quietly as possible and looked through the peephole.

  It wasn’t Linc.

  No, it was the one other person who could completely mess with my head.

  …

  I smoothed a hand down my hair, licked my lips, and sucked in a deep breath. Then I swung open the door and hoped my smile appeared more genuine than it felt.

  “Mason. What a surprise.”

  He had his hand propped against the doorframe and his shirt was slightly crumpled, which was unusual. His eyes met mine and something stirred in my gut. He swallowed, and the nervous tug on his tie made a mix of apprehension and curiosity churn through me.

  “I hope it’s a good surprise,” he said.

  “Of course. You want to come in?”

  He glanced into the room, as if there might be a shark waiting to take him out. What’d happened in D.C. to turn him so paranoid? Or maybe I was transferring, because suddenly the thought of being alone with him made me want to…well, I wasn’t sure, but my hand shook enough that I had to ball it into a fist.

  “I’m starving, actually—I came here straight from the airport. I’m in town for the wedding festivities.”

  “Right. Yeah. I figured.” I’d expected to see him at the wedding, but that was next Saturday. He must’ve taken off an entire week, which surprised me, because I didn’t think he believed in days off.

  Straight from the airport, too. Interesting.

  “Anyway, I was hoping you might grab a bite to eat with me?” Both of his eyebrows arched, and for a moment I simply stared, thinking way too much about the guy who only raised one at a time.

  Focus, Savannah. “Sure.”

  Relief flickered through his features and his posture relaxed. I grabbed my purse and locked up. Then he and I stood in the hall together, an
d I felt like I’d been zapped back to five months ago.

  He led me to his rental car and opened the door for me. When he pulled up to Azure, I nearly did the roll-out-of-the-car escape move. “Um, don’t you want to go somewhere else? There’s this new place down on—”

  “No way. I’ve been craving their crab fritters for months.”

  “They are the best in the city,” I muttered, even though I was thinking that this was about to take awkward to a whole new level. I considered breaking down and telling him I couldn’t go in, but then I realized it was Sunday and lunch time. Two points that meant Linc wouldn’t be at work.

  Still, when Mason opened the door, I hesitated. I had two choices. Make up a stupid excuse, or go into Azure and have crab fritters with my ex. Not as a date, either. Just two people catching up over a meal.

  I caught sight of Ivy’s car, which meant I’d have the chance to pull her aside and get her input on everything that’d happened, not to mention this turn of events with Mason.

  That thought propelled me forward, even as something inside of me tried to resist. The second I stood on the sidewalk, it all felt wrong. “I’m sorry, but I need to—”

  Before I could add the “go somewhere else,” the door to Azure swung open. Linc held it for an older woman as she made her way out of the bar, and then his gaze met mine.

  Abort, abort, abort.

  He glanced at Mason, obviously noticed how close we were standing, and then the door swung closed.

  Great. Now going in sucked, but not going in also sucked more, because now he really had the wrong idea.

  Then again, I thought as we made our way inside, this might be the perfect way to see Linc. The public setting would keep a buffer between us, so I wouldn’t fall apart. I could tell him I’d been busy, but we’d talk later, which would give me another day or so to pull myself together. Yes, it ranked high on the scale of immature moves, but hello, kryptonite called for drastic measures.

  And now here I am, still not following my rules. I told my clients to be as straightforward with guys as they wanted them to be. I preached for them to have the big talks. I thought I’d had one with Linc the night I told him I needed handholding and dates, but in truth that was more of a small to medium talk. The big one would’ve involved confronting our past, telling him he’d hurt me before, and that he had too many red flags for me to not worry that we’d crash and burn, because in the end, we clearly wanted different things. And I definitely should’ve done all that before I’d slept with him.

  Another way I’d screwed myself over by straying from my program. My stupid pride had gotten in the way, and all week I’d let it get the best of me, too. Admitting the guy completely threw me off my game despite my job and years of real-world experience was a hard pill to swallow, but it was the truth.

  “Savannah?” Mason put his hand on my back and I automatically stepped away—I didn’t want to hurt Linc or for him to get the wrong idea, and honestly, I wasn’t ready for Mason to touch me like nothing had happened between him and me, either. I hastened my steps and moved to the nearest table.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Linc jump over the bar and cut off Ivy. He arrived at our table a few seconds later and tossed two menus down. His gaze homed in on me. I couldn’t tell if it was a challenging glare or an angry one, but I wanted the ability to disappear. “Nice to see you’re alive.”

  “You, too.” Before he could say more, I said, “Linc, this is Mason. Mason, Linc.” I searched for the right term. Not boyfriend, and there was no way I was going the friends with benefits route—even friend seemed like a stretch right now, considering the look he was giving me. “Ivy’s cousin.”

  Linc shook his head, so much disappointment radiating off him I swore I could physically feel it pushing through my skin and binding my lungs.

  “We’ll have the crab fritters,” I blurted out, and then I looked at Mason. “What do you want to drink?”

  “I guess it’s a bit early for alcohol.” He lifted the skinny drink menu. “I am on vacation, though, so…I’ll go with a glass of cabernet.”

  “I’ll have the same.” I shot a tight smile at Linc. “Please.” I hoped that he got that the please also meant please be cool right now.

  Linc shook his head again and took off toward the kitchen. I gave it fifty-fifty odds that he even put in our order. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him so angry. Seemed pretty hypocritical of him to be that mad at me avoiding him for a few days when he’d avoided me for weeks after the first time we had sex. Not to mention he’d only sent booty call texts, not offered to take me out again.

  Okay, those are destructive thoughts, and that won’t get me anywhere. I’ll have a straightforward conversation with him later today. No more waiting to be strong, since that’ll obviously never happen when it comes to him and me.

  “You look great,” Mason said, drawing my attention. “Of course, you always do.”

  “Thanks. So how’s the new job and D.C.? Tell me all about it.”

  “It’s crazy and hectic, but I love it.”

  I nodded, deciding that I was glad, even if it’d thrown me for a loop at first. “I’m so happy to hear that. When you showed up, you looked a little stressed—in a good-looking stressed way, of course. But I worried your job was getting to you.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Nervous body language. “I was stressed. But not because of my job.” He gave me a wobbly smile and then he leaned forward, his brown eyes boring into me. “The entire plane ride, I went back and forth about what to say to you when I saw you. I was going to go check into my hotel first, but I got into the rental car, and suddenly I was in front of your place.”

  I tilted my head, trying to put together what he was saying from what he wasn’t.

  “Savannah.” He put his hand over mine. “I miss you. I thought it’d get better in time, but I think it’s getting worse. I was so nervous about seeing you, and that I’d get here and you’d have already moved on.” His eyes widened. “Which I guess you probably have. I didn’t even ask if you’re seeing anyone.”

  My head almost turned toward the bar to see if Linc was there, but I caught myself just in time. “I’m… I’ve been dating a bit.” My pulse thumped, pounding through my head, and my gut knotted, making forming a coherent sentence twice the usual effort. “But I’m not in a…relationship right now.”

  The words tasted bitter on the way out, which considering they were the truth, shouldn’t happen. Logically I knew that. But it felt like they’d sliced through my heart on the way up, and suddenly I wanted to add an “unfortunately” to that sentence, and the strong reaction made me doubt myself all over again.

  You’ve already been down that road, remember? It’s a dead end. A dead end with pain and hurt and wondering what’s wrong with you. And you’re being strong for women everywhere, so that you can continue to help them with your head held high.

  Mason ran a hand through his hair and a smile touched his lips. “Good. Because I was wondering if you’d be willing to give us another shot.”

  Even though he’d been leading up to it, and his steady gaze and hopeful expression signaled he was genuine, it still took me by surprise. “Another shot? But you live in D.C.”

  He picked up my hand and squeezed it. “I know it’s going to be a bit of a challenge. The truth is, I almost asked you to come with me the first time around, but as you know, I have political aspirations, and I was afraid it wouldn’t look right if you moved in with me before we got married, and I knew neither one of us was quite there.”

  As much as I’d thought that I might’ve been ready to move with him a few months ago, the word “married” made my heart skip a couple of beats, and not in a la-la-la skip, but, like, a thud skip. I wasn’t there. Not with Mason. I should’ve realized he cared about appearances, too. His family was conservative and a bit on the pushy, we-need-a-say-in-everything-you-do side. They actually made mine look lax.

  “But we can email and call a
nd visit back and forth,” Mason said. “With your job, you really only have to work on Saturdays.”

  The spot between my shoulder blades tightened and I slipped my hand free of his grip. “I have the clients that I coach, too. Not just the workshops.”

  “Yeah, but they can work around you.”

  “Not when they have dating emergencies. They need me for practice sessions, to talk wardrobe, and to discuss conversation topics.”

  Mason’s brow crinkled. I tried not to let it bother me. So he didn’t fully understand my job. Even Linc liked to point out flaws with my program. More like flaws in my assumptions about men, which should be more annoying, although it hadn’t scraped me the wrong way like Mason’s words had.

  You’re doing it again. Looking at the wrong qualities. He’s not saying my job’s not important, just that I can travel. And I can. Once in a great while.

  “So you’re saying we travel back and forth and see how that works?” I asked.

  “Yeah. And if it all goes well, then I hope you’ll like D.C. as much as I do. Because I don’t care what my family or anyone else thinks about you moving in with me. That way of thinking is outdated, and I figure you’d be hard pressed to find anyone in politics who’s walked every line. You should see my place. It overlooks a park and is just a few miles from the capital. You’d love it. At least come visit and see what you think.”

  I picked up a well-worn coaster and spun it between my fingertips. “How about we see how this week goes and then we’ll talk about it?”

  “Always thinking with your head.” He tapped a temple for emphasis. “That’s what I like about you. None of the drama and making all your decisions by your mood and emotions.”

  I frowned. I knew there was a compliment in there—that he’d meant it that way. But why did it make me sound like a robot?

  From her spot behind the bar, Ivy reached up and twisted her earring. She wasn’t involved in a conversation, but when one of us gave the signal, the other dropped everything. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”