Right Kind of Wrong

by Sara Rider

  “As if. You’re the boot,” Emily said.

  “Fine, but that boot’s going to kick your butt,” he retorted.

  Julia cleared her throat primly. “Just so you’re aware, I don’t lose. Ever. So both of you better be prepared for disappointment.”

  An hour later, Julia held true to her word, wiping Fergus and Emily out with the predatory capitalism and ruthlessness she abhorred in any other context.

  “Geez,” Emily said, handing over her last property. “You weren’t joking. I think we need a rematch.”

  “Gladly,” Julia said. Her competitiveness was just getting started, and she was more than ready to seal her victory with a repeat.

  The doorbell chimed, signaling the arrival of their food and putting her plans for world domination on hold. Despite Julia’s offer to help, Fergus and Emily took care of setting out the plates and cutlery, and removing the cardboard lids from the tin containers with practiced efficiency. Julia had never been comfortable sitting around and watching while others took care of things. She wondered if this was how it would always be—the pair of them together and her on the sidelines? Was that the future she was ready to sign up for? Was Fergus worth it?

  He looked at her as he unwrapped the naan, flashing a smile in her direction that made her melt. Yeah, he’s worth it.

  It was a realization that terrified her. She liked this man—even with his grumpy attitude and curmudgeonly behavior. Because beneath all of that, he was a man who loved fiercely and with all his heart, even if he didn’t let a lot of people into that deeply private part of his life. Now that she’d been given a glimpse of that side of him, she didn’t think she could pull herself away. Not without getting hurt.

  But the longer she stayed, the worse it would be if things did fall apart.

  “So, Emily,” Julia said after they’d filled their plates. “How do you like your school in Seattle?”

  It seemed like a safe, reasonable question to ask a teenager she was supposed to be getting to know. The Monopoly game had been fun, but there wasn’t a lot of time for conversation beyond property transactions. Julia wanted to get to know Emily. But judging by the identical sour expressions on Fergus and Emily’s faces, she’d made a mistake.

  “It’s great,” Emily said through clenched teeth as she tore her naan into tinier and tinier pieces.

  “It’s a good school, but there are lots of good places. Like Hawkins Academy,” Fergus said.

  “But Hawkins doesn’t have a music program.”

  “It has one of the best math programs in the country. Not to mention the fact you don’t even take music class.”

  Emily slammed her hands on the table, but when she spoke it was with a quiet calmness that sent a shiver up Julia’s spine. “Maybe I want to take music class.”

  “Emily.” Fergus leveled a look at his daughter that even Julia could see held so much—worry, frustration, affection.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Emily jammed her fork into the palak paneer.

  Julia lifted a bite of food on a wobbly hand. She’d grown accustomed to using her left hand for most things over the last few weeks, but rice was particularly tricky. Grains tumbled off the tines, spilling onto the table. She jerked her hand in reaction, which caused a drop of butter chicken sauce to splatter onto her blouse. “Oh no.”

  “You need to rinse that before the stain sets,” Fergus said. “Come on.”

  He led her to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. She’d only been to his house once before and hadn’t gotten this far. It was a sparse room with simple furniture and no clutter, though she couldn’t exactly call it tidy. The bedspread looked like it had been hastily pulled over the mattress without much care and one of the drawers in his dresser wasn’t pushed in all the way.

  Julia’s own bedroom was so different—filled with ruffles and floral prints and carefully selected decorations on every surface. She took pride in making her bed ever morning and fluffing the half-dozen throw pillows. Fergus was not a throw pillow kind of guy.

  “I’m sorry if I made things awkward,” she said as they stepped into the master bathroom. It was bigger than she expected from the modest home, and the pair of them easily fit inside. “I was only trying to make conversation.”

  He dampened a washcloth and handed it to her. “It’s not your fault.”

  She dabbed at her shirt, wondering if he would say more. The stain only seemed to spread more as she tried to clean it. “I take it there’s an underlying tension that I accidentally uncovered.”

  He started to say something, then stopped himself, pulling his lips into a hard line. “You should take that off and let me run it through the laundry.”

  “Sure.” She started at the first button, then dropped her hand and looked at him. “It would go faster if you helped.”

  She hadn’t meant to suggest anything beyond efficiency, but the air between them crackled with an electric charge. His hands slipped the first button through the hole, treating her body like it was the most delicate porcelain. The rhythm of her breath faltered when his knuckles grazed her breasts as he undid the next button, but she held herself entirely still. The attraction between them was so strong, it was easy to forget they hadn’t had many moments of pure physical intimacy like this. It was still a raw kind of attraction. One that didn’t have the calluses and hardened edges of a mature kind of desire, or the sweet familiarity of long-time lovers. This was still new and uncertain and scary.

  The hunger in his eyes captivated her as he slipped the blouse off her shoulders, knowing that meaningful looks were as far as they could let themselves go. He set her shirt down against the sink and gripped her waist, dropping his forehead to hers. “Julia.” He breathed out her name like it was an instinctive, involuntary reaction.

  “I know.”

  He kissed her, sweetly and slowly. Then let her go. “I’ll get you one of my shirts.”

  She blew out a breath when he stepped out of the bathroom, and steadied herself against the sink. She needed to compose herself before going back to the table with Emily. In the mirror, she caught sight of the shampoo rack hanging off the showerhead behind her. She’d expected the usual minimalist toiletries that all the men she’d dated before used—the cheapest generic shampoo and a bar of Irish Spring, but the bottles were narrow and elegant, with the curling black font that signaled expensive French beauty brands.

  She turned to inspect the array of products more carefully, then let out a laugh.

  “You find my shower funny?” Fergus stood in the doorway with a navy T-shirt in his hands and curious look on his face.

  “No, I’ve just finally figured it out.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Why you smell like pumpkin spice. It’s your shampoo.”

  “It’s Emily’s shampoo, actually. She uses a special brand for her hair, so I always keep a big stock of it here, but I’m pretty lazy about grocery shopping. So sometimes I use it when I run out of my stuff.”

  “Or when you miss her?”

  He nodded and held open the shirt for her to tuck her head inside. “She was offered a scholarship to a private high school. She has to accept by the end of the month or forfeit the offer.”

  With less finesse than she would have liked, Julia finagled her way into the shirt. It hung down to her knees, but the cotton was soft against her skin and she was already conspiring to find a way to steal it and turn it into a nightshirt. “You don’t think she wants to go?”

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair, setting his glasses slightly askew. “That’s the thing. She was so excited when she first told us about it. She was the one who heard about the opportunity from her school counselor and begged us to let her apply, but now that it’s within her grasp she’s acting like we’re punishing her every time her mom or I bring it up.”

  Julia knew it wasn’t a small thing for him to open up about this. She didn’t want to mess up again. “Where’s the school?”

  “The othe
r side of the city. The commute would be a little longer, but it’s not like she’d be in boarding school or anything. I can’t figure out what’s bothering her or why she won’t talk about it.”

  “Any change at that age can be scary,” Julia offered.

  He shook his head. “It’s more than that. There’s something deeper going on. I just don’t know what.”

  “At least she seems okay with…” She gestured to the two of them, unsure of the right word.

  “With us,” he said firmly. “Yeah, she’s been surprising me about a lot of stuff lately, but I’d still rather you not say anything about my past profession to her. With everything going on, I’m not sure how well she’ll handle it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s a teenager and her mom and I embarrass the hell out of her. It’s a delicate balance with Emily, and I don’t want to give her a reason to push me away.”

  “She might surprise you. Teenage girls are a lot smarter than they get credit for.”

  Fergus cupped her nape and brushed his lips against her forehead. “True. We should go back out there before she gets overly curious. Her imagination is a force of nature.”

  “So is her Monopoly game.”

  “If we hurry, we might have the chance for a second round. Just try to go a little easy on us this time.”

  Julia grinned. “Never.”

  Fergus drove Julia home at the end of the night, feeling happier than he had in a long time despite his ego being thoroughly bruised after his decisive Monopoly defeat at Julia’s hands. For the first time in his life, he was starting to feel like he had it all—or, at least he could have it all if he didn’t screw it up.

  He glanced over at Julia in his passenger seat, and found himself blown away all over again by the delicate angle of her jaw and the curve of her neck.

  She turned to him, as though she could sense his eyes on her, and gave him a curious look. “What?”

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  Her smile widened so much, he nearly lost sight of the road. He corrected quickly, feeling a flush of embarrassment. “Sorry.” He pulled up to her apartment complex, then got out to open her door.

  “You don’t have to walk me in,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I know, but I want to.” He held her hand as they ascended the front steps.

  “I wish you could come in,” she said, resting her hand against his chest.

  “Me, too. But I need to get back to Emily or else she’ll start asking questions I don’t want to answer.”

  “She’s an amazing kid. Don’t underestimate what she already understands.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Julia shrugged. “Nothing. She’s just really astute, that’s all.”

  Something about the too-casual tone of her voice made him uneasy, but he didn’t push. He didn’t want to ruin a perfect moment. “Emily keeps me on my toes, that’s for sure.”

  He pulled Julia in for a hug. With Emily here, there’d been so little opportunity for any kind of physical affection like this from Julia that he found himself increasingly greedy. He wanted every stolen touch, every press of their bodies, every kiss he could get from her—no matter how chaste. She’d woken up a part of him he didn’t realize had gone dormant long ago—the part that made him want to seize life by the horns and ride it, no matter how wild it got.

  Julia snuggled into him. The weather had changed dramatically in the last couple of weeks, with the icy rain of winter giving way to the dappled sun of spring, but Julia’s coat was still too thick for him to get the closeness he truly desired. It was for the best, though, because once that spark ignited between them, he didn’t think either of them could control it.

  “Do you ever think about having more?”

  He stroked the back of her hair. “More what?”

  “Kids.”

  His hand stilled.

  “Sorry, that was a dumb question.” She pulled away and he was too shell-shocked to stop her.

  “No, I…uh…” Words and thoughts tumbled around like someone had turned on the spin cycle in his head. “Do you?”

  Her lips tightened into a sharp line, all the tension of that moment held in the set of her jaw. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I haven’t been in a place where I could consider it before.”

  He didn’t know what expression crossed his face, but based on Julia’s wince, it wasn’t a good one.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I know we’re not…we’re not there. It’s just that most of my friends don’t have kids, and spending time with Emily lately has made me think about things I haven’t had a reason to think about before. Forget I said anything okay?”

  Fergus nodded, though his heart screamed that he was a coward. “Yeah, okay.”

  He left her with a gentle kiss on the cheek, wondering how the hell he hadn’t seen this coming.

  17

  “Dad!”

  Fergus set down the pot of oatmeal he’d been stirring in an attempt to actually feed Emily a healthy breakfast at least once this week, and went to find her in the living room. “Is the house on fire?”

  “No.”

  “Is there a stampede of purple elephants running through the living room?”

  Emily crossed her arms, which was a rather funny sight given she was wearing one of his old, ratty sweatshirts with sleeves that drooped past her hands like wet noodles. “No.”

  “Have radioactive nanobites infiltrated your body and turned you into a cyborg that is biologically incapable of speaking without screaming at the top of your lungs when you want my attention, even though I’m only standing ten feet away?”

  She narrowed her eyes, but he could tell she was biting back a smile. “Maybe.”

  He sighed. “What is it?”

  “Why haven’t you sent the RSVP for Mom and Tom’s wedding yet?”

  “Because…” He had no idea how to finish the sentence.

  Emily rolled her eyes. “You’re supposed to give her an answer before Monday. That’s two days from now. Do you know how stressed Mom has been about the seating arrangements and all that stuff? You need to RSVP.”

  “Technically, I have RSVP’d. Your mother rejected my answer.”

  “Then why don’t you ask Julia to come as your date?” Emily held the invitation out to him.

  Fergus sucked in a breath. It was far too early for this conversation. The truth was, the RSVP deadline felt like the countdown to an explosion. One way or another his life would be different based on his answer. He liked Julia—more than liked her—but asking her to the wedding three months from now was a commitment he wasn’t sure either of them were ready for. They’d been on two dates—one of which had been chaperoned by his teenage daughter. But if he didn’t ask Julia, it felt like he was closing some kind door on their future together. It was too soon to make that kind of decision.

  He took the invitation from Emily and examined the small rectangle of glittery cardboard.

  The whole idea of dating again had seemed like an impossibility a month ago. Until Julia had mentioned the idea of more kids, he hadn’t even let himself consider what lay ahead for him. The invitation was forcing him to make decisions he wasn’t ready for. He’d tried putting it off for as long as he could, but Emily was right. He’d run out of time.

  Julia sat at her desk with a fresh cup of tea and her bullet journal open. She hadn’t been able to keep track of things the way she liked lately, forced to rely on apps on her phone instead of laying everything out in color-coded, hand-drawn columns and patterns. It was still functional, if uninspired, but for the last few days she couldn’t shake the feeling she was missing something. Something important.

  She went over the upcoming plans for the Holy Grale while sipping her peppermint tea. She’d ordered the new menus with the upcoming seasonal brews. She checked the social media accounts, which she was responsible for.
All questions and inquiries were answered. There weren’t any major events planned aside from the regular trivia and book club nights.

  She turned her attention to the Kiesselburger event next. The whole thing was starting to give her a migraine every time she thought about it, but she reviewed the plans anyway. Everything was in order, and she’d taken care of just about every contingency. She was just about to give herself a figurative pat on the back when her phone buzzed. It was Jeremy Kiesselburger, the third-born sibling, who was contrary by nature but had always acquiesced to reason with a little prodding.

  She said a silent prayer that her hubris hadn’t caused her downfall before answering the call. “Hello?”

  “The gift is a totally disaster,” he said without preamble.

  “What gift?”

  “The painting. The one from all of us. I told Melissa we shouldn’t have given the commission to a guy she found on Etsy, but did she listen to me? No. And now the only thing we have to give my parents for their anniversary next week is a picture of them looking like characters from The Simpsons.”

  He texted her a photo of the painting. It wasn’t as bad as he’d claimed. It was worse. So much worse. The two bodies inside the frame looked more like Teletubbies than people.

  Julia pinched the bridge of her nose. “The gift is your responsibility as the family. I’m the party planner. That’s it.”

  “I know,” he pleaded. “But we need you.”

  Julia closed her eyes and stifled a groan. Those were the magic words—the ones she’d never been able to resist. A small voice inside her head whispered that this wasn’t her problem, but that logic was drowned out by the sound of her moral obligation crashing through her subconscious. She knew she had too much on her plate right now, and only a limited amount of energy to get it all done, but what else could she do but fix this for them? It had taken the siblings forever to decide on a gift, and there was no way they would stop fighting enough to come up with a new solution. “I’ll call around to a few galleries and see if there’s an artist willing to take a commission cheap and fast.”