Any Way You Fight It: An Upper Crust Novel (Upper Crust Series Book 3)

by Monique McDonell

  "It's fine. Take care."

  My keys had been slipped through the mail slot before I dragged my butt in to work. I'd hoped he might stop by and see me, but I guessed not. I had more questions now than I'd had before the dinner.

  Midafternoon, a delivery boy brought me an ostentatious display of roses.

  "I'm sorry. I hope you'll give me a third chance next time I'm in Boston. Love, Luke."

  I wasn't exactly one for second chances. I seriously wasn't sure about third.

  #

  I was back in my booth at O'Shaunnessy's. I had to admit I'd missed the place this past week or so.

  "Where've you been, doll?" Larry asked me. "You got a new watering hole?"

  "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you, just had a busy week." I chuckled. It was nice to be missed, even if it was just by Larry.

  I was replying to some text messages when Lucy arrived. She looked so happy these days I almost didn't recognize her as the stressed out girl she'd been these past few years. Without the constant responsibility of her nieces and nephews, and with Chase in her corner, life was much improved for her and it showed in her face and how she walked.

  "TGIF," she said happily.

  "Yeah, pity we both work on Saturdays," I replied.

  "Still, it's a psychological hurdle."

  "True enough," I replied. "How are the kids doing with your mom?"

  "Actually, really well. It's been a big adjustment, and I wish for everyone's sake my sister would come to her senses, but I think, all things considered, they're doing okay."

  "If you hear from her and she wants me to rent her house out so she doesn't lose it through mortgage default, I can certainly make that happen."

  "Thanks."

  Her widowed sister had run off with her boyfriend and left the kids with Lucy a couple months ago. Lucy has resituated them with their grandmother in New Hampshire. The sister seemed to have lost sight of the fact she was a grown-up with responsibilities, and we were all hoping she would realize that before her decisions became catastrophic.

  "How did you ditch Piper?" I asked.

  "Aaron has a work dinner, so she was going to that anyway. Easy peasy. She says hi by the way."

  "Trying to make me feel guilty?" I teased.

  "Not at all. She said hello and I'm passing that along." She eyeballed me hard. "So, order me a drink and spill your guts, girlie!"

  "So forceful!" I'm glad one of us was feeling on top of things. "Right—I'm going to give you the abridged version."

  "I'll take whatever you offer," she said.

  "Well, when I was eighteen I had a romance; I suppose you'd call it that."

  "Yeah, if this was eighteenth-century England."

  "Whatever," I sighed. "And it was a secret. He knew, I knew, and one friend."

  "No family?"

  "Nope, he wasn't Italian, and I just didn't want them stalking me and ruining everything."

  "Makes sense. I never had that kind of family. I could have dated an axe murderer and my mom would have been happy I had a man, but I can see your situation was different."

  "Yeah, so we had this lovely summer fling. And then he dumped me."

  "Ouch."

  "Yeah, and he just left and didn't say good-bye."

  "That's low."

  "Yeah, it was. And it hurt and probably more so because no one knew so I had to act all normal and I couldn't discuss it with anyone."

  "So, you've never talked about it?" Her eyes popped wide.

  "I never have." I took a fortifying sip of beer. "The thing is I date, I flirt, but I haven’t really met anyone who made me feel like that guy did."

  "Wow. That's a long time between boyfriends."

  "Yeah, I went out with a couple of nice guys in college, one for almost a year, but that spark or whatever wasn't there. And because of my parents' whole ' you can't end up with someone who isn't Italian' attitude and because I haven't met any Italian guys who lit that flame . . ."

  "You've stayed single . . ."

  "Exactly." I sighed.

  "But now you're ready to move forward, why is that? I mean I know that was big for you to tell me, but you didn't tell me anything Piper couldn't have handled."

  "There's more . . ."

  "Oh goody!" She clapped her hands.

  "Calm down, Glinda the Good Witch. This is hard for me."

  "Sorry, but what's changed? Is it because Piper and I have found someone?"

  "I think partly, but a couple other triggers have hit as well."

  "I think we need fries for this part?" she asked, waving down the waiter. "Okay continue."

  "First, although it didn't happen first, my mother has waived the Italian rule. Apparently having a single thirty-year-old daughter who isn't producing offspring means she has to compromise, so I'm allowed to date non-Italians now."

  "That's pretty huge for her."

  "Yeah and for me. The thing is part of me is really resentful about it. I'm happy but I'm also thinking—now, why now? Why not ten years ago, five? All these years . . ."

  "That makes sense." The fries landed and we each took one and blew it. We had years of experience and neither of us was stupid enough to burn our tongues now. I squirted ketchup in the corner of the basket. We liked to dunk or scrape our fries through not smother them. "On the other hand, better now than never."

  "I know."

  "So that's good news for moving forward." She snapped her fry and popped half in her mouth. "So, what was the other thing?"

  "I saw him again."

  "Him? The guy from way back when?"

  I nodded. "The guy."

  "Wow. Where? When? Who?"

  "Here. Last week. Luke."

  "Holy shit, Cherie. Luke?" Lucy's eyes were bugging out of their sockets.

  "Yep, holy shit."

  "You dated Luke? He dumped you and then he walked into this very bar years later?"

  "Yes."

  "And we made you guys hang?"

  "Yes."

  "And how was that?"

  "It was freaking weird." That was an understatement.

  "He's very hot; I can see why you had a fling with him. You have excellent taste."

  "Thanks, I think."

  "So, did you find out why he dumped you?"

  "I didn't ask. It doesn't matter. It's old news. Seeing him again just proved to me it is time to get on with my life. It's time to take a chance again, and now that I can date beyond the Italian-American community, I can find myself a Luke-alike."

  "A what?"

  "A Luke-alike. A guy like Luke."

  "Why can't you just date the real Luke?"

  It did seem like an obvious solution but the real Luke was in love with his dead fiancée. I didn't need to go into that.

  "The real Luke lives in New York and is emotionally unavailable. But I will admit he is hot, and apparently that kind of hot is my kind of hot."

  "So you want my help to find you a Luke-alike?" she asked, finally putting the pieces to the puzzle together.

  "Chase must know tons of blond, buff babes who could maybe like me."

  "Babe, anyone who doesn't like you is an idiot. Have you seen yourself? You are gorgeous. And now you're gorgeous and open to possibilities."

  "I guess."

  She clapped her hands again. "This is going to be so fun. Now I get to be the matchmaker."

  I wasn't sure how Lucy's matchmaking skills were to be honest, but she was all I had. It did feel better to have told someone.

  "Thanks for listening to me. It's been a big secret to hold."

  "I bet. And why didn't you want to tell Piper?"

  "I don't know. I guess I don't want the family to know and she'll tell Aaron; it just felt weird. It's silly."

  "Well, don't worry, your secret is safe with me, well except for Chase because I have to tell him so we can find you a guy."

  "Of course."

  "Cool. Let operation matchmaker begin!"

  Oh brother.

  Chapte
r 8

  Sunday morning I was told to be at Chase's Marblehead home at ten. I really wanted to stay curled up in my bed with a good book and copious amounts of coffee but that wasn't an option. Before heading out, I stopped in on Nona. I knew she'd have warm pastries and a pot of coffee going for her post-Mass breakfast. The woman went to seven o'clock Mass rain, hail, or shine every Sunday.

  I let myself into her kitchen, which as expected smelled like sugar and coffee. She was sitting at the table flicking through the parish bulletin. I leaned in and kissed her cheek. It was powdery soft and she smelled as always like White Linen. She'd been dressed in funeral black for five years and smelled like White Linen all my life.

  "Good morning," I said, nabbing a Danish and a mug of coffee.

  "Hello, principessa, I missed you at Mass this morning." This was another part of our ritual. I never went to Mass unless it was Christmas, Easter, a wedding, a funeral, a communion, a baptism, or a confirmation. In our family, there were so many of those it meant I was still there every second weekend.

  "So sorry. How was it?"

  "Dull. That new priest is not very inspiring." She sighed. She preferred the hellfire and brimstone types. This priest wore a headset like Madonna and preached a lot about acceptance and forgiveness.

  "Maybe he'll improve." I suggested. "What are you doing today?"

  "You mother is insisting I go there for lunch. She means well . . ."

  "What else would you be doing?"

  "Herb Kaminski invited me to a movie, but if I tell your parents they'll have a fit."

  "Are you and Herb an item, Nona?" Herb Kaminski had been a tailor before he retired. He was a snappy dresser and he always wore a fedora. He had a little spark.

  "Too soon to tell. It's nice to have some attention though, you know?"

  "I do know." I sighed. "Well, good luck with it."

  "What about you?"

  "What does your vision tell you?" I teased.

  "He's gone again, the guy." She had that right. "He'll be back. He likes you. You want to tell me about it?"

  "I don't know who you're talking about." I turned to refill my coffee. If she saw my eyes, she'd know I was lying.

  "Don't lie to your Nona, Cherie!"

  "No, I don't want to talk about it."

  "I told you about Herb." She countered.

  "Yeah, well, I'm going out to Marblehead to meet some of Chase's ritzy sailing club friends."

  "Good luck with that, but you should be with the other guy."

  "Right, the one who, as you know, isn't around."

  "You've waited all this time, a bit longer won't hurt," she said to my retreating back. How much did the woman know I wondered?

  I walked out to my car and plugged in the Bluetooth. It was a pretty drive out to Marblehead. I had clothing for every possible season. Lucy hadn't been super clear about what we were doing. I had brought enough to stay for the week if need be.

  My phone rang when I was halfway there. It was Luke. Not who I expected and definitely not who I wanted to talk to.

  "Hi. I hope it's okay that I called."

  "Sure. What's up?"

  "I just wanted to uhm . . . see how you are?"

  "I'm fine thanks. You?"

  "I'm okay. Did I call at a bad time?"

  "Nope, just driving out to Chase and Lucy's."

  "Ah . . . right, well I'm coming back to town this week. I wondered if I could take you out . . ."

  "Luke, I don't know that that is such a great idea."

  "Oh . . . the other night was kind of . . . I'm sorry about that."

  "That's fine. I just think we're in different places, and you'll be here a few days and I don't know . . ." I was not good at this. I liked Luke but I couldn't waste my time pining for him.

  "Now I understand . . . I'm sorry I bothered you."

  "You didn't bother me. I just don't know that there's much point."

  "I enjoy your company. That's the point for me anyway."

  I was crap at this. "I enjoy your company, too. It's just, and I've got a lot going on, and . . ."

  "It's okay, Cherie; I know a brush off when I hear one."

  "Luke . . ."

  "It's fine. I might see you, or not." He was gone.

  I felt like crap. I didn't want to blow him off completely, but really what was the point? Despite what Nona's visions might or might not show, Luke was not my destiny and I needed to go find whoever was. Still, I did feel bad because the truth was I liked Luke. Heck, I was probably still crushing on the guy all these years later. I hated being a grown-up sometimes.

  #

  I love Chase's house. When Lucy first visited, she said it looked like a castle. She's not wrong. The stone wall and wrought iron gate, the turrets and the circular driveway all add to the appearance of grandeur.

  Lucy came bounding down the front steps as soon as I parked the car.

  "You made it. Yay!"

  Her enthusiasm was sweet. I decided to shake off the feelings of my phone call with Luke. Plenty of time to dwell on that later when I was home alone.

  "I did." I gave her a big hug.

  "Chase is down at the boat. Apparently there's a regatta of some sort this morning. You know that's just a race, right?"

  "I do," I replied as I turned to grab my bag from the back of the car.

  "Cool, so they'll be finished about eleven and we can meet them, the sailors or yachtsman or whatever you call them, for drinks and lunch. You can pick out one you like."

  "Like a catalog?"

  "Well, not exactly, Chase and I have already narrowed the field. We have some recommendations for you."

  "Great," I said, but all I really thought was, why am I doing this?

  #

  We were back on the overstuffed sofas in Chase's stately living room. I was having a much-needed glass of wine. To say it had been an interesting day was an understatement. It was true that three blond men who sailed had my phone number, but I felt a little pimped out.

  "That was fun!" Lucy said, sipping her own chardonnay.

  "It was something all right."

  "They're all cute, right?"

  She was right; they were all exceptionally cute. I didn't have the heart to tell her I felt not one zing or buzz or hum in the presence of any of them. That was disappointing, but maybe I just needed to get to know them better. A crowded pub maybe wasn't the sort of place my hormones happy danced.

  "They were all very cute and very attentive."

  "I'd watch out for Braydon, quite the player," Chase warned. "But I'm told he's an excellent dancer."

  "Who told you that?"

  "Braydon," he chuckled. He was having way too much fun with this. "I bet he calls first. Let me know if I'm on the money."

  "I'll take that bet," Lucy said.

  "Excuse me, I'm not a race horse, no gambling on me," I said, throwing a cushion across to their sofa.

  "Okay, calm down. We're just having some fun."

  Of course they knew I could see they were joking. "I know. This dating business is harder than I remember."

  "I never really noticed you didn't date," Chase commented. "You always seem to have men hanging off you."

  "Getting a guy isn't hard. Getting the right guy, that's a whole other story."

  "I liked Luke by the way. Are you sure he can't be the right guy?" Chase asked.

  "Yep. Definitely." I wasn't, but I needed to be.

  "Pity."

  "That's not helpful," I replied. "Let's just focus on the Luke-alikes for now."

  #

  The trouble was as I drove home I couldn't focus on the Luke-alikes; thoughts of the real Luke kept wandering into my head. I tried to focus on the negatives. He dumped me. He was in love with his dead fiancée. We had no future. But my mind kept focusing on the way he made me feel, his gorgeous eyes, how he smelled, and the sound of his voice. Goddamit.

  Chapter 9

  Chase was right Braydon left me a message on Sunday night asking if I'd be free
for a drink on Monday after work. He usually worked from his office in Marblehead where he was a shipwright, a career that I had to Google, but he was in town on Monday and would love to buy me a drink.

  I knew with every fiber of my being that Braydon was not my destiny, but I also knew I needed to give this a chance. Maybe in a different space, away from the salt and the sails, there'd be something that sparked between us. So I decided to meet him at O'Shaunnessy's, at least there I had a few people looking out for me and it was home turf. If he didn't like my favorite pub, there was no future for us anyway.

  My usual booth was occupied, so I chose a bar table and hopped on a stool. I was wearing black pants and a winter white cashmere boat neck sweater with red stilettos and a red bag. I didn't look like I was trying too hard, but I didn't look like a slob either.

  Braydon came in wearing jeans and T-shirt that looked like it might have been older than, well, Nona. No points for effort there.

  Still, he did have a smile that lit up the room and he was even, in his disheveled state with a slightly bizarre bedhead hairdo, remarkably good-looking.

  "Hey there."

  "Hi," I replied in my perkiest voice. "You found it okay."

  "Sure, sure, it was a bit tricky, but I'm not a rube and I have a GPS. You think my car is safe out there?"

  "Well, my Mercedes convertible has never had any trouble so I think you'll be fine." I didn't know what he drove but my guess was a truck of some kind.

  "Great, so you work near here?"

  "Yes, I run my own real estate business."

  "Good for you!" he replied.

  Good for you sounded like a condescending insult, but I let it slide. "And what exactly is a shipwright?" I asked.

  That was a mistake. He drew breath to order our drinks but apart from that he went on and on. I almost had to grasp the table to stop myself from sliding off my stool in sheer boredom. This guy may have been Nordic-looking and sweet, but he was no Luke-alike that was for sure. Luke was attentive and interesting. This guy was dull and self-absorbed. My lady bits were not humming; they were very definitely having a good old slumber party.

  Of course that was about when Lucy and Piper and Luke decided to stroll on in. I hadn't realized when Luke called that he'd be back so soon.