Not That Kind of Guy

by ANDIE J. CHRISTOPHER

  He still didn’t call her back. It was Thursday, and he was meeting Bridget and the rest of the wedding party for a dance lesson. They weren’t doing anything elaborate, but Jack had said something about Hannah’s inability to take a lead. Besides, anything that would allow him to hold Bridget for two hours sounded like a lot of fun.

  So, he was rushing out of the law library when he ran into Naomi—again.

  “You look like shit.” If only she’d been this honest when they were dating.

  He actually didn’t feel well, and was sorely hoping that he wasn’t coming down with the stomach flu that had been going around the law school. “I’m fine. What do you want to talk about?”

  “I just have proof that your wife was only after you for your money.” He tried passing her, but she moved to block him. “You want to hear this.”

  “No. No, I don’t.” He tried to pass her again, and she huffed at him. All of his trying to move around her made his stomach pitch. “Get out of my way. What’s it going to take for you to leave me alone? I get married to someone else, and you’re still after me.” He ran a hand through his hair and noticed how clammy his forehead had gotten. “Seriously, what do I have to do to be rid of you?”

  “Well, you don’t have to blow up your whole life so you can be with Bridget Nolan. She was only ever after you for your family’s money.”

  “We’ve gone over this, Naomi.” Matt sighed but realized that a deep breath was a bad move when he tasted bile. “Bridget doesn’t give a shit about my family’s anything.”

  “You’ll see I’m right eventually.”

  “The only thing about you I want to see is you leaving any room I walk into.” Matt turned and walked away, but Naomi followed him. He was starting to get dizzy and needed to get to his car. Away from his ex. “Get away from me, Naomi.”

  “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

  At that point, he knew he hadn’t, in fact, escaped the stomach flu. And he just made it to the trash can to empty his stomach into it.

  * * *

  • • •

  MATT HADN’T ANSWERED ANY of her calls, and he hadn’t shown up at the dance lesson for the wedding party. Combined with the disastrous lunch Bridget had had with his mother the day before, his absence made her mind go to all the wrong, dark places a mind could go. There might be an innocent explanation for it, but she couldn’t help but think of all the not-so-innocent ones.

  What if his mother had told him she’d accepted the fellowship money? What if he believed her? What if the whole bribe-Bridget-to-go-away plan had been his idea all along? Ghosting Naomi hadn’t worked out so well, so maybe he was using his family as cover this time.

  Sure, he could have just gotten busy with something at school and not charged his phone, but she didn’t feel great about the odds that that was the case.

  At the dance lesson, she ended up dancing with one of the instructors, wishing he was Matt the whole time. And she didn’t miss the pitying looks from Chris as he squired his very buxom date around the dance floor.

  The only lucky thing about the day was that she’d been able to slip out before he could corner her and talk to her. She had enough to worry about without him making snide remarks about her still not being able to keep a man.

  Her first stop after the dance lesson was Matt’s condo. His doorman let her up, because she was his wife, but he wasn’t home. She was close to calling hospitals or the law school, when she grudgingly accepted that she should try his parents’ house.

  The whole drive over, she had a bad feeling that this would turn out poorly. If he wasn’t there, she might get another offer of a bribe. If he was there, it might confirm her worst suspicions about whether Matt was involved in the aforementioned bribery scheme. There was really no way to win this.

  She rang the doorbell and didn’t have to wait for long. Surprisingly, Matt’s mother answered the door.

  Jane looked at her quizzically, as though she wasn’t sure why Matt’s wife might be standing on her doorstep. “Can I help you, Bridget?”

  Bridget didn’t have the patience to sugarcoat. “Is Matt here?”

  “He is, but he can’t see you.”

  Bridget hadn’t thought past what she would do if he was here and didn’t want to or couldn’t see her. “Can’t see me?”

  “He’s indisposed,” she said, as though it was some final, definitive answer.

  “Listen, I know that we got off on the wrong foot and you don’t want me with him, but you have to tell me if he’s okay.”

  She immediately realized her mistake—telling Jane Kido that she had to do anything was the height of stupidity.

  “I don’t want to have to call security.” So, in addition to threatening to ruin her life if she didn’t divorce her son, she was going to have her arrested for showing up here? Bridget understood that she was just trying to protect her son, but she was so close to losing her temper that she could taste copper in her mouth.

  She wrapped her arms around her waist, partially to keep herself from pushing her way inside the house. “Can you at least have him call me?”

  Jane didn’t say anything, but Bridget took her sniff as an affirmative.

  * * *

  • • •

  THE NEXT DAY WAS the rehearsal dinner. Bridget had a list as long as her arm of errands to run for Hannah. Under normal circumstances, she would have been happy to do it. But after Matt’s disappearance and last night’s confrontation with his mother, she was completely on edge and liable to snap at the person who got the font wrong on the place cards.

  “I know my sister-in-law did not order a sans serif font on these things,” she said, pointing to the very businesslike font on the card stock.

  “Look at the order form.” The clerk pointed to a black smudge on a piece of parchment that could have said anything.

  “I can’t even read that.” Realizing that her voice had that high quality that it usually got when she was about to lose her shit, she took a deep, calming breath. “How fast can you fix it?”

  “It’s not wrong—”

  Bridget did not have time for this shit. “You and I both know that this shit does not belong at a wedding. It’s so ugly that it doesn’t even actually belong on paper. Now, you’re going to fix it today, and then you’re going to have someone deliver it by hand to the venue in the morning.”

  “Oh? What are you going to do when I don’t?”

  Bridget was tempted to say that she’d string him up by the balls, but she decided that she could be more reasonable right now. Her bad mood wasn’t this guy’s fault. It wasn’t even a bad mood; it was existential dread. The kind of thing she’d never felt before getting involved with Matt. When she’d made decisions with her brain instead of her heart or her vagina. She almost sighed with longing for that much simpler, if less sexually gratifying, time in her life.

  Instead of any of the medieval torture methods she currently wanted to try out on the husband who’d ghosted her, she said, “My sister-in-law, Hannah, is a wedding planner. Apparently, she recommends you to a lot of her clients. If she’s stuck with this bullshit”—she pointed to the offending box yet again—“I don’t think she’ll be using your services again.”

  Apparently, all she had to say was “wedding planner” and he realized whom he was dealing with. Hannah had a reputation that garnered both fear and respect. The man’s face blanched. “This is for Miss Hannah?”

  “Yep. Miss Hannah’s getting married to my brother.”

  His eyes got big. “Your brother is a brave man.”

  Yep, he was. Too bad that the man Bridget had married couldn’t even tell her to her face that he’d changed his mind about wanting to be with her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  MATT DIDN’T SHOW UP at the wedding rehearsal, either. That was when Bridget knew that his mother’s “offer”
had probably come at his behest. She’d made a mistake in trusting him to be there for her beyond what she could do for him. His summer internship had been about getting away from Naomi. He’d flown Bridget to Vegas so he could get into her pants. And he hadn’t told anyone about their divorce so that he could get Naomi off his jock and continue having sex with Bridget for a few more weeks. Once their relationship had served those purposes, he’d scraped her off just like he had with his ex.

  Unlike Naomi, she wasn’t going to blow up his phone and beg him to reconsider. She had way too much pride for that.

  What she didn’t have too much pride for was crying at her brother’s wedding rehearsal even though they didn’t even say any vows. It didn’t matter. The fact that her sweet, tender older brother had found someone who could balance him out was kind of a miracle. Hannah would hold the family grudges and be fierce when she needed to be. She would let Jack be himself, and he would give Hannah the attention she needed. That the two of them had found each other almost made her believe in God.

  Thus the tears that she carefully hid from her parents, her brothers, and her ex as they went through the choreography of tomorrow’s ceremony. Hannah was so excited and happy that she didn’t even curse out Matt for not showing up.

  In fact, her brother had to ask, “Where’s Matt?”

  “He had schoolwork.” Bridget wasn’t about to rain all over the wedding parade by telling everyone that Matt had dumped her. Tomorrow, maybe he could be sick. Everyone would know that something more had happened, but they were mostly good Irish Catholics. They could pretend that everything was fine for years before directly addressing a problem.

  Still, even though she was probably in the clear with having to explain shit to her family, she rushed out of the church after the rehearsal was over.

  By the time she got to the restaurant, earlier than everyone else, she was wishing that she’d chosen another career—not because she didn’t find her job rewarding, but because she wouldn’t get drug tested in the private sector and could have gotten super high before having to deal with Chris and her family this evening.

  As soon as she walked in the door, she found the bar. “Whiskey, neat.”

  “What kind?” the bartender asked.

  “The brown kind.” As Jane had so helpfully reminded her, she was not classy. “It’s not going to be in my mouth for very long.”

  Of course, Chris chose that moment to sidle up to her. “Make that two.”

  “What do you want?” He was way too close, and she was about to lose it. She gave him a hard look, and he moved away by about an inch. He’d only been witness to her losing her temper once, the night of the shoe throwing, and yet he still knew enough to fear her. He’d said that she had “crazy eyes” and she could kind of believe it.

  “What’s wrong, Bridget?” He actually looked a little concerned—for her. And that made her even angrier. She had to get away from him, like, right now.

  “Nothing. Nothing is wrong.”

  “Don’t bullshit me. We’ve known each other too long.” He started to reach for her but stopped when she looked at his hand. She definitely had crazy eyes at the moment. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Thankfully, she was saved by their drinks showing up. She downed hers in one shot, and he followed. It reminded her of all the time they’d spent together at weddings like this, at bars with their college and law school friends on random Saturday nights and the most important occasions of her life.

  At that moment, she desperately needed to know why that hadn’t been enough for Chris. It was too late to fix things with him, but maybe she could convince Matt not to discard her. Her whole body ached, and her eyes filled with tears. When it came right down to it, she’d spent her whole life trusting the man standing in front of her. For most of her life, she’d let him hold all of her sorrows in his hands. And just because they couldn’t work as a couple, and she really hated him right now, she knew he would get the shorthand of her pain. She wouldn’t even have to say that much. She could give him the bones and he could build out the rest.

  “If you must know, I haven’t heard from my husband since Tuesday afternoon. His mother tried to bribe me into divorcing him.”

  “That sucks.” Ever eloquent, her ex-boyfriend.

  “Yeah, it does.” She lifted the glass of water the bartender had delivered with her whiskey. “At least this vindicates you.”

  Chris leaned close to the bar. “What do you mean?”

  “Matt didn’t want to stay married to me. You were right about me not being able to keep him.” She made a motion in the air, trying to summon the words. “You were right all along—I am just not lovable. Not in the get-married, have-all-the-sex-and-babies kind of way.”

  “Jesus Christ, Bridget.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really think?”

  “I don’t know how I’d think anything else.” She flagged down the bartender and signaled for two more drinks.

  “You were always too good for me.” Chris’s admission was quiet, and it shocked the shit out of her. Her ex had the kind of ego that needed constant pumping. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would admit to weakness. “And I broke up with you because of my wounded pride, not anything you did.”

  “Well, you really tried to make it about me.” She paused to make sure she recalled his exact phrasing. “You said that I was a ‘coldhearted bitch.’ That’s exactly what you said.”

  “And you weren’t in love with me, either.”

  Bridget blanched. Of course she’d been in love with Chris. She’d been infatuated with him since she was capable of infatuation. She did love him. She had—once.

  “Think about it, Bridget.” He motioned between the two of them. “We had no chemistry between us beyond being horny teenagers trying shit out. Before we broke up, when was the last time you wanted to kiss me?”

  He’d stumped her. She tried to remember the last time she felt the thrum of anticipation before touching Chris. And she came up with nothing. Before Matt, she might have brushed that off and thought she just wasn’t the kind of person who felt overwhelming chemistry—at least she’d never been the type to let it take her off course in life.

  It had literally never occurred to her until that moment that she’d never been in love with Chris. That maybe she’d only been so dead set on having him because of his distinguishing feature of always being there.

  “We could have been happy,” she said. “I could have tried harder.”

  “Look,” he replied. “We could have faked it for a while, had a few kids, moved to fucking Skokie. But we would have been just as miserable as your parents.”

  She knew he was right, and they hadn’t worked out because they weren’t right for each other, not because she hadn’t tried hard enough. But she could only see that because of what she’d started to feel for Matt.

  Before he’d ghosted her, she felt light whenever she thought about him. He might not be like anyone else she knew, but he called to her for some reason. The way he smiled at her, wanted to make her happy, all the feeling he poured into every single kiss. All of it made her feel more—like everything she had inside her was bigger than her skin.

  She’d never felt that for Chris. Maybe because he was familiar? But something inside her said that she wouldn’t have felt the same way about him that she felt about Matt if she was just meeting him now. Not because he wasn’t handsome or smart or worthy. Just because he wasn’t her soul mate.

  “What was the whole thing in Vegas about?” She was curious as to why he acted like a petulant child once she brought someone else around.

  His face got a little more ruddy, and he grimaced. Signs for when he didn’t want to tell her the truth but was going to anyway. “I always thought we’d get back together. What you did just felt like the definite end.”

  “It was the right thing to do,” Bridget
said. “This way we’re both free.”

  “What if I don’t want to be free?” She saw something that looked like hope in his eyes, and she should have extinguished it on the spot, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She had enough emotional bullshit to sort through in her own head and didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with his. “We could try again. Just date and see if we fall in love with each other this time.”

  “You only want me because someone else came into the picture.” Not that Matt wanted her anymore. “I think maybe you should try giving one of your flavors of the week like two weeks and see if it works out.”

  Chris looked down, but she could see a smile tugging at his lips. He knew she was right. “You always were a whole hell of a lot smarter than me.”

  “I know.” And then they laughed.

  At that precise moment, Jack and Hannah and the rest of the wedding party burst through the door and ended her conversation with Chris. She was extremely grateful to not have to deal with his misgivings about their breakup for the rest of the night.

  She realized while talking to him that she was done grieving him. Just in time to grieve what she could have had with Matt.

  * * *

  • • •

  MATT WOKE UP ON the floor of his childhood bathroom with a pit in his stomach. And it wasn’t just because he hadn’t even been able to keep down water for the past however many hours. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been at his parents’ house.

  All of his limbs were heavy, and he felt weaker than he ever had as an adult. When Naomi had gotten him here, with him puking out of her car’s window at every stoplight the whole way, he’d been grateful. He hadn’t been able to think of anything but getting somewhere to be sick in private.

  He’d have much preferred if it was Bridget and not his ex driving, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. And he’d have much preferred to be on the floor of Bridget’s bathroom—she probably would have done more than slide soda water and saltines through a crack in the door like his mother had.