Writing Mr. Right

by T. K. Leigh

  “He took the girls to the Museum of Science.” She came out from behind the counter and pulled me toward a booth. She slid in, then stared at me, waiting for me to do the same. “I want to hear about this date of yours.”

  Reluctantly, I lowered myself into the booth, glancing around the busy café, many patrons stopping by to get their Sunday morning pastries after leaving church.

  “What’s his name?”

  “No… Paul.”

  “Nepal?” She narrowed her inquisitive gaze. “Like the country?”

  Besides my brother and Brooklyn, Aunt Gigi knew me better than anyone else. Hell, she’d stepped in and helped my father with us after my mother left. When it was time for “the talk”, it was Aunt Gigi who had the pleasure of having it with me. When I told my father I’d gotten my period, he was on the phone in a flash, calling Gigi to come over.

  “Just Paul,” I corrected.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She angled her body away from me, squinting. “And what does this Paul do for a living?”

  “He’s a doctor.” I rubbed my clammy hands on my jeans. Growing up, Drew and I often joked Aunt Gigi had eyes in the back of her head. Now I was beginning to believe the validity of our childhood belief.

  “What kind of medicine does he practice?”

  I reminded myself to answer her questions as if speaking about Paul, not Noah. It couldn’t be too hard, could it? Hell, I made up stories for a living.

  “He’s a pediatrician,” I answered with confidence.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She crossed her arms, pinching her lips. “Now, tell me why you were so frantic to see Drew. You appear a bit flushed this morning, Molly.”

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, avoiding her gaze.

  “I see.” A slight grin formed. “So you invited Dr. Nepal up for a nightcap?”

  “You could say that. And his name is Paul,” I added quickly.

  “Of course it is, dear. And when do you plan on seeing Paul again?”

  “Hopefully never,” I muttered.

  “The hanky-panky was that bad? What about it didn’t satisfy you?”

  “Aunt Gigi!” I exclaimed, my face burning. “I’m not going to discuss this with you! And no one says hanky-panky anymore! We call it what it is. Sex. Fucking. Banging. Bumping uglies!”

  I expected to get a reaction from her. Instead, her expression remained unnervingly composed. “I’ve read your books, dear.” She placed her hand over mine. “Nothing you say can shock me. So tell me what happened that makes you not want to see him again, even after making love.”

  My eyes widened, my heart racing. “Oh no. We did not make love. No, no, no, no, no.”

  A sigh escaped Aunt Gigi’s mouth as she gazed upon me fondly. “You know I love you like I do my own children, don’t you?”

  “Of course. And I love you as if you were my mother,” I answered.

  “Your father loved your mother very much.”

  “Too bad she returned that love by completely shattering him.”

  “No, Molly.” She shook her head. “She shattered you. You were so young when she left, it affected you more than it did Drew or even your father. They still missed her, but they didn’t act out like you did.” She let out a small laugh. “At first, your father simply thought it was your personality coming through, but there were only so many times he could make excuses when he received a phone call from the principal of your school claiming you’d been teasing other kids who had been dropped off by their mothers, sometimes to the extent of physical altercations.”

  I bit my lip, remembering that like it were yesterday. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but I hated hearing how all the other kids in my class got to do fun things with their moms when I didn’t even know where mine was.

  “We finally made the decision to put you in therapy.”

  My eyes widened. “Wait. What? I never went to therapy! I’d remember being on some shrink’s couch, spilling my guts, him constantly asking me how everything made me feel.”

  She smirked. “Child psychologists are a bit different, Molly. Remember when you used to go see Miss Margaret?”

  I nodded. “She was my babysitter. Dad took me there so he could go to hockey practice with Drew. We played with toys and she asked me about…” I trailed off as realization washed over me. “You guys tricked me?”

  “You made incredible progress in such a short amount of time as Miss Margaret helped you work through all your abandonment issues. She was able to direct all your anger into something that made you happy.”

  “Which was?” I felt like Aunt Gigi was talking about a complete stranger, not me.

  “Reading and writing. When you were eight or nine, she sent you home with The Diary of Anne Frank.”

  I stared off into the distance, then returned my eyes to her, my brow furrowed. “What does any of this have to do with Dad and my mom?”

  “Molly, your father loves you and Drew more than anything, although he probably can’t remember what love is anymore. When you and Drew were younger, he didn’t really date because he didn’t want to put you through any more heartache. Your well-being was always his priority. He dated casually, but never got serious, although there were quite a few women with whom he wanted to take things to the next level.”

  “So you’re telling me I’m the reason my dad became cynical about love?”

  Aunt Gigi shook her head. “Your father was never cynical about love.”

  “Then why would he say ‘real love isn’t real life’ all the time?”

  “It was something your mother used to say.”

  I furrowed my brow, this new information turning everything I thought to be true on its head. All my beliefs, all my actions were now put under a different lens.

  “Do you know how they met?” Gigi asked, a nostalgic smile on her face.

  I slowly shook my head. I didn’t know much about my mother or her short-lived romance with my father.

  “They met right here.”

  “Really?”

  Gigi nodded. “He’d just taken over running the café. She worked as a waitress in one of the restaurants around here and would come in every day to get a coffee before her shift. One thing led to another and, well… She ended up pregnant about six months later. Before that, she was a bit of a wild child, a free spirit.” Her lips turned up into a small smile. “I see a lot of her in you.”

  I scowled, not wanting to be compared to the woman who broke my father’s heart…who broke my heart.

  “Now, you can imagine it was quite the scandal, especially considering she was twenty-five and your father had fifteen years on her. Sure, it was the eighties, so having a baby out of wedlock wasn’t that big a deal, but she was from a rather devout Roman Catholic family, just like the one your father and I grew up in. Her father was a Marine, a Vietnam veteran, who was incredibly strict. There wasn’t much of a choice but for your mother and father to get married. They went to City Hall and were married by the Justice of the Peace. Five months later, Drew was born.” She let out a sigh. “I think your father hoped once the baby arrived, things would improve, but they never did. She never glowed when she held Drew in her arms. It was almost like she couldn’t bear to look at him, let alone touch him. You can imagine our surprise when, eighteen months later, she announced she was pregnant again.”

  “Wait.” I took a sharp inhale of air, blinking rapidly. “If she wasn’t happy with my dad, then…”

  “Don’t worry,” Aunt Gigi answered quickly, obviously aware of what I thought. “He made sure he was the father. Even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t care. He would still love you as if you were his. You and Drew are the reasons he never regretted the time he’d spent with your mother. After she left, he didn’t think he’d ever hear from her again. One day, she called and asked to see you and Drew.”

  My mouth opened. “She did?”

  “And your father, being the compassionate and understanding man he was, agreed. She never showed. She called a week later with s
ome excuse. This happened over and over again. Each time, he tried to convince her to come back, try to work things out. Your mother would simply tell him his feelings for her weren’t real, that ‘real love isn’t real life’. Regardless, he did love her. When they were together, he doted on her, gave her everything she ever wanted. He looked at her pregnancy as a blessing. She looked at it as a prison sentence.”

  I leaned back in my seat, processing all this information. Most of the decisions I’d made throughout my adult life, as it related to my arrangements, were based on the idea that I didn’t want to end up hurt like my father and Drew. Not getting romantically involved seemed like the only solution. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d turned into my mother instead…a woman who ran from love.

  Abruptly standing up, I grabbed my bag. “I have to go.”

  Gigi slid out of the booth and stepped in front of me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “I understand this is a lot of information to process, but I thought you should know before you make a decision you’ll regret.”

  “I’m scared,” I admitted through the heaviness in my throat. It was the first real thing I’d said in years, if ever.

  “I know you are, Molly Mae.” She squeezed my arms. “If you’re not, it’s not love.”

  Nausea formed in my stomach at that blasphemous word. I spun from her, dashing out of the café. Feeling big, fat raindrops start to fall, I pulled my umbrella out of my bag. I glanced at the door to my building. Memories of Noah kissing me there less than twenty-four hours ago rushed forward. I tried to suppress them, needing to clear my head and sort through all this new information. I had a plan before talking to Aunt Gigi. Now I didn’t know much of anything.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A SLIVER OF SUN peeked out from behind heavy clouds, shining a small beam of light onto the tall buildings behind me that made up the city of Boston. I’d lost track of how much time I’d spent locked in my own thoughts throughout the day as I walked from one spot to the next. No matter where I went, something made me think of Noah. How could I figure out what to do about him if I was constantly reminded of him?

  A little voice in my head told me that, in itself, should have been my answer, but I ignored it, like any sane person would. It was now after six in the evening and I’d finally found somewhere that hadn’t been marked, somewhere I could think clearly…or as clearly as possible with my libido reminding me of the ecstasy I’d experienced the previous night.

  Looking over the harbor from my bench in Christopher Columbus Park just a few blocks from where I started this morning, I saw a plane landing at Logan Airport. I entertained the idea of going home, packing, and hopping on the next flight to some exotic locale.

  My thoughts were all over the place. One minute, I never wanted to see Noah again, despite the improbability of that happening. The next, I recalled the previous night and how perfect it felt to have his arms wrapped around me.

  Aunt Gigi’s story had thrown everything into a tailspin. The motto I’d lived by, that love was simply an illusion, had been crushed into tiny little pieces all over the floor of the café. I was more confused than ever. Even putting all my thoughts down in my journal didn’t help.

  “There you are,” a deep, breathy voice called, interrupting my plans of escape and living on a remote island, complete with a native manservant to bring me drinks at my bidding.

  I snapped my head to the right. When I observed Noah jogging up the harbor walk toward me, my heart fell to the pit of my stomach. Although he was a few yards away, his vibrant eyes stood out.

  I quickly shot up, my limbs jittery. “What are you doing here?” I looked around, feeling exposed. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  He came to a stop in front of me. “When you didn’t stop by the nursing home this afternoon, I was worried.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, avoiding the look of concern and worry on his face. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied today,” I admitted truthfully.

  When he stepped toward me, I backed up. I wanted to run away. At the same time, I craved the feel of his arms around me. If this was what it felt like to be in a relationship, I was glad I’d stayed away from it. I felt bi-polar, maybe even manic. The swing from my highs to lows were wide and without warning.

  “Is this about last night?” He raised his brow, his voice soft, gentle, beautiful.

  “No,” I answered quickly. “I just have a lot on my plate right now. I already had to ask my publisher for an extension to finish this book. I’m still behind.”

  “So you came here?” He cocked his head, eyeing me.

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. “Well, I went to the Common first. Then a coffee shop. Then a bar. That one turned out to be a really bad idea, so I ended up here.” My heart rate picked up as my vision raked over his full lips, his vivid, yet uneasy eyes, his slight smile. “But I really do have a lot to do, so I need to get going.” I snapped out of the spell Noah’s presence cast over me and spun on my heels, darting down the path.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re running away from me?” he called out.

  Heat washing over me, I stopped. I knew my behavior made no sense to someone like Noah, who probably never had difficulty forming strong and lasting relationships with people. I, on the other hand, had only dated casually, and I used the word “date” very loosely. A date had always just been a means to an end for me, not a device to bear my soul. There had never been a connection…until Noah. I wasn’t too proud to admit all of this scared me shitless. Before this began, I had a plan, and falling for Noah wasn’t part of it.

  “I’m not running from you,” I replied in a low voice, facing him.

  He took several deliberate steps toward me. As much as I wanted to retreat, a force outside my control kept me glued to that spot.

  “You are, Molly. After last night, I thought…” He ran his hand through his dark hair, tugging at it slightly as he tried to compose his thoughts. He drew even closer, the heat of his body sending a ripple through me. He tilted my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “I thought we were on the same page,” he said in a quiet voice.

  “Noah, I…” I blinked repeatedly, unable to look away. “I’m not the woman you think I am.”

  A soft smile cracked his lips. “And what woman do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know.” I swallowed hard. “But I can assure you, I’m not her.” I backed away from him. “I’m not the type of girl a guy like you dates. Hell, I asked your sister if she ever got tired of looking at vaginas all day. I’m not exactly someone you’d want to introduce to friends and family.”

  “Why not?” He closed the distance between us again. “Because you ask the questions everyone else is too shy to? That’s a positive character trait, if you ask me.”

  “That’s what you say now, but at some point, you won’t like it anymore,” I explained, an urgency in my tone. “And the lack of a filter is just one of my many quirks that should send you running for the hills. There are plenty of other women out there. Women who wouldn’t put your job in jeopardy.” My expression turned serious. “Maybe it’s best we forget last night ever happened. You can go find someone who’s at least in the same intellectual sphere as you…maybe another doctor. Then you can have lots of doctor sex and little doctor babies.”

  A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. He slid his hands down my body, landing on my waist, pulling me against him.

  “But I don’t want to have doctor sex.” He slowly shook his head, his voice sensual. My resolve to walk away melted in a puddle in the middle of Columbus Park. I was complete putty in his hands. His touch was all I needed to agree to whatever he wanted. “I want to have Molly sex. Lots and lots of Molly sex.”

  “But how would you even introduce me to your friends? ‘Hi, this is Molly. She writes smut’?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure that’ll go over well in all your doctor circles and doctor parties.”

  “Stop labeling everything. Stop putting the
two of us in categories. You’re a writer, a brilliant one, and I decided to make a really bad financial decision and became a doctor. How we make a living doesn’t define us. You’re just trying to come up with every excuse out there about why we shouldn’t be together.”

  “And there are a lot, Noah. I’m sure I could fill pages with all the reasons we shouldn’t be together, the most pressing of which being the fact you were my father’s doctor.”

  “What if your pages full of reasons we shouldn’t be together are no match for my one reason we should? What if all your reasons, taken as a whole, pale in comparison?”

  My heart drummed at the sincerity in his eyes, his face, his body. “And what’s that?” I swallowed hard.

  He ran his finger over my lips, sending a tremor through me. “That something about you has drawn me in since the day I first saw you reading to your father. That, despite trying, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for months. That I firmly believe fate intervened and forced us together that day all those weeks ago when I saved you from a gang of ruthless miscreants.”

  “Otherwise known as ducks,” I muttered, a lightness in my chest.

  “Just a tiny, insignificant detail.” He brought his lips toward mine. “I knew I’d regret it every day of my life if I didn’t say fuck it and just be with you, despite all the complications surrounding a potential relationship with you. I’ve never been as happy in my life as I am with you…even when we’re fully clothed.”

  I allowed a laugh to escape my throat. “But I like it when there’s no clothes, too.”

  “As do I.” He paused for a beat, his lips a whisper away from mine. “So…”

  “So…,” I breathed.

  “So…”

  “So.” I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him toward me. Gently, he pressed his mouth against mine, his kiss unhurried. Even with the most innocent of kisses, he seemed to invade every inch of me. I felt him on my skin, in my core, in my heart.

  He leaned his forehead against mine, licking his lips. “I get it, Molly.” With a firm grip, he cupped my cheeks. The intensity in his eyes was unwavering. “I’m scared, too. It’s hard for me to describe. I’ve dated many different women in all my thirty-eight years—”