Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) (14 page)

By three, the mechanic had called to say they couldn’t get her car up to check out what was draining the battery until the morning. By three fifteen, Leroy called to say he would bust the floor on Monday . . . afternoon. Sarcasm and disapproval laced his message. By three thirty Mary was standing outside her building waiting for her Uber ride to show up and texting Dakota.
I’m coming over and I’m bringing wine.

Dakota was quick on the reply.
That bad?

The Uber driver pulled up and she jumped in the back. He repeated the address she’d already put in the system and she confirmed it before returning her attention to her phone.
You have no idea.

Mary heard the friendly “come in” from the back of Dakota’s place after her knock. “I’m back here.”

Leo crying told her where Dakota was in the condo.

“Look who is awake.” Mary smiled at the two of them. Dakota was in the process of changing a diaper, and Leo was in the process of waking the dead.

“He doesn’t like his butt cold.” Dakota smiled down at her baby. “And when Mommy changes your diaper, it’s cold . . . isn’t it?” Her voice raised an octave as most adults’ did when talking to infants.

Mary peeked over Dakota’s shoulder and smiled for the first time that day. “He’s growing so fast.”

Dakota taped down the edges of the diaper and tugged on his tiny pants. All of this she did with one hand while leaning against a crutch.

“Where’s Walt?”

“I sent him to the store.” Dakota backed away. “Why don’t you hold him while I wash my hands.”

Mary stilled and found her palms itchy. Why was she hesitating?

Dakota found her other crutch and made her way into the kitchen.

Mary squeezed her fists and approached her nephew.
Careful with his head.
He fussed as he kicked but settled almost immediately when she lifted him. He weighed next to nothing. She settled him into the crook of her arm. “How you doing, big boy?”

Leo blinked and stared as he quieted his cries.

Mary’s crazy day floated away with a blink of a tiny baby’s eyes. When Leo let out a peep, she found her body moving side to side, and the motion made him smile. “Not bad for a newbie, eh?” she whispered.

“It’s about time,” Dakota said from the other side of the room.

Mary glanced up to see her BFF staring at them. “What?”

“You do realize this is the first time you’ve held him.”

Leo watched her with trust. “Actually, I think this is the first time I’ve
ever
held a baby.” She knew it was. “Maybe I should sit down.”

“You’d never drop him,” Dakota told her.

Mary slowly let her butt reach the sofa.

Dakota slumped a little less gracefully in the chair beside them. “You’ve really never held a baby?”

“When would I have had the opportunity? I don’t have siblings. I didn’t go with you when your sister had her last one. I was raised by nuns . . . and they don’t have babies . . . so Leo is my first.”

“Leo is almost three weeks old, Mary. I was starting to worry.”

Mary released the tractor beams of Leo’s eyes and looked at her friend. “I was afraid I wouldn’t like it.”

“What’s not to like? Except when he’s puking on you, he’s kinda cute.”

Leo gripped her fingers with his whole hand. “He’s still cute when he’s puking on you.”

Dakota snorted, but Mary knew she was kidding.

“It’s not hard to figure out, Dakota. My parents abandoned me. I can’t help but wonder if they just didn’t want kids. Maybe they didn’t have a nurturing gene. Maybe they passed that on to me.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Not necessarily. Some studies show—”

“I’m calling bullshit.”

“Hey, language,” she teased.

Dakota waved a hand in the air. “He’s too young to understand. You’re full of crap.”

Mary denied Dakota’s observation.

“Oh, I’m sorry . . . what was it you did for a living again?” Dakota asked.

“Helping people sort out their problems is not the same as caring for a child.”

“No, it’s not. But you care by nature. You can’t help but care. You just told me to watch my language because you care. You’re one of the most nurturing people I know, so if you think for one minute you will be anything but the doting aunt Leo needs, then you have your brain in the sand.”

Mary swung her head and let her hair dangle in Leo’s face. He closed his eyes and let out a tiny gurgle. “I don’t think my brain is in the sand. Do you think I have a sandy brain, Leo?”

Dakota sat back in her chair and put her blue leg up on the coffee table. “I should probably text Walt and let him know he can come home.”

It took Mary a moment to catch Dakota’s words. “I don’t get it.”

“When you said you were coming over I asked Walt to leave and not come back until I called.”

“What, why?”

“Because you haven’t held our son and I knew you’d bugger out of it if Walt was here to help me.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. “That’s one sneaky mom you have there, Leo. You’re going to have to watch out for her.”

Hours later, after a couple of glasses of wine and a lot of baby talk and girl talk, Mary meandered across the street to her taped-up living room and garage without a car. She went straight up to her bathroom and turned on the water in the tub.

Once she was comfortable, with the lights dim and another glass of wine in her hand . . . she dialed Glen’s number.

His hello made her smile.

Chapter Fifteen

Mary packed way too much for a weekend in the city, but she’d rather have too many options than not enough. And with Glen as her tour guide, who knew where they’d end up or what they’d be doing.

She Ubered to the airport and was met by one of Glen’s pilots, who took her bag and shuffled through security as if they were living pre-9/11.

On the plane, Mary used her time to catch up on some reading and take a nap. The sun set through the window at twentysomething thousand feet. She wasn’t sure how this had become her life . . . but she didn’t hate it. All that Catholic upbringing made her feel guilty, but she didn’t dare pinch herself for fear she was dreaming.

When the plane landed, Mary expected to be shuttled on to the hotel Glen told her he’d acquired for her. Instead, Glen stood at the bottom of the stairs descending from the plane with his hands in his pockets and the wind blowing his hair.

She jogged down the last few steps and tossed her arms around him. She tilted her head toward his and greeted him with a kiss.

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“I missed you. I probably shouldn’t tell you that, but I did.”

Glen kept an arm around her when the pilot exited the plane. “Thanks for getting her here safely, Freddy.”

The pilot placed her bag on the tarmac and shook Glen’s hand. “Anytime, Mr. Fairchild.”

“Thank you,” Mary added as Freddy started to walk away.

She tucked into Glen’s side and faced the wind. “I feel like I should tip them or something.”

Glen stumbled and started laughing. “Please don’t start something everyone else will have to follow.”

“But that was the fastest trip across the country I’ve ever had.”

“It’s the same amount of time in the air.”

“Yeah, but there was no security, the plane took off almost the second I got on board. People would fly more often if it was always that easy.”

Glen rolled her bag beside him as they walked off the tarmac and into the terminal.

Mary glanced around. “Wait, how did you get in here? I thought only ticketed passengers made it this far.”

He squeezed her shoulders with one arm around her. “Did you have a ticket?”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. “You live a crazy life, Glen.”

“Can’t argue that.” He kissed the top of her head, and if she wasn’t mistaken, sniffed her hair before standing tall. “I missed you, too.”

Glen drove a Land Rover.

The drive into Manhattan wasn’t bad. It helped that it was on the tail end of rush hour.

“We have a suite at The Morrison,” he told her.

“Shocking.” Dakota’s sarcasm was really rubbing off on her.

Glen grinned. “Have you met any of Monica’s family?”

“Just you and your brothers last Thanksgiving.”

He nodded and changed lanes . . . not that one did that in Manhattan so much as attempted suicide by moving the car over with a hand on the horn and one finger flying in the air. Glen managed without the finger.

“Once you’ve met the Morrisons, you’ll understand why you can’t stay at any other hotel if they have one where you’re going. Have you ever been to the South?”

“Not really. I don’t think the Florida conference last year is what you’re talking about.”

“No. I’m talking deep Texas. Georgia . . . the Carolinas?”

“Bucket list,” Mary told him. “I haven’t even been to Dakota’s hometown.” But then, up until this last year, Dakota had avoided it like fish avoid dry land.

“Hospitality. There is no other word for it. Every person I’ve met from the South is deeply offended if you don’t take them up on the offer of accommodations or a meal.”

“Are you sure they’re not just being polite?”

“Deeply offended.”

Mary always thought Dakota had been kidding about that Southern trait. “So if I took a trip to say . . . Seattle, and didn’t ask Monica to hook me up, she’d be offended?”

“Ah, no. Monica would completely understand. But after you meet her sister, Jessie, or more importantly Jessie’s extended family, the Morrisons . . . oh, yeah. Offended might be an understatement.”

“So I’m staying at The Morrison.”

He huffed out a laugh. “You catch on quick.”

The Morrison overlooked Central Park. The corner suite had a central living space complete with a living room, dining room, and kitchenette. Mary was drawn to the window the moment she walked through the door. “Wow! What a view.”

Glen rolled her bag into a separate bedroom. “You’re in here,” he told her.

She did a tiny spin and took in the sleek gray tones of the space. An expansive marble entry melted into a plush Berber carpet. The splash of color came from the dark plum sofa and accents on the dining room chairs. Three oval glass chandeliers illuminated the ceiling. It was modern and very New York. “Where’s your room?”

He pointed to a closed door on the other side of the living room. “Door locks on this side.”

“You’re very thoughtful.”

“I’m a thoughtful kinda guy. Now grab your purse, I’m starving.”

“I had a little something on the plane.”

He grabbed her hand. “Then you can grab a little more something here.”

She snagged her purse, which she’d just left on a hall table, as he dragged her away from the room. “You’re pushy.”

“I’m thoughtful and a pushy kinda guy. Especially when I’m hungry.”

They rode the elevator holding hands.

When they exited the hotel, Glen held her hand tighter.

“What are you in the mood for?”

The beauty of New York City was that you could walk two blocks in any direction and find the flavors of the entire world, or close to it.

“I’m not the hungry one.”

He ignored her and rambled off their options. “Burgers?”

She shook her head.

“Chinese or Thai . . . Korean barbeque?”

“Salty.”

“Deli . . . maybe tomorrow for lunch,” he suggested. “Fish tacos?”

“You pick,” she said.

“There’s a great Italian place around the corner. Pizza?”

“Ohhh, pizza.”

Glen pulled her in a circle and started walking the other direction. “Pizza it is.”

Mary sat back, holding her stomach, after eating not one, but two pieces of the giant pizza filled with dough, sauce, and cheese cooked to perfection. “You’re trying to make me fat.”

Glen was tearing into his third slice. “You eat like a bird.”

She tapped a finger on her empty plate.

“Well, maybe not with pizza,” he said with a wink.

The tiny pizza joint was loud and crazy busy. They’d ordered at the counter and brought their box to a small table by the window. They classed it up by drinking wine from a screw-cap bottle.

She pushed her paper plate aside, rested her chin in her hands and her elbows on the table. “Have you ever done this before?”

He had just opened his mouth to take another bite. “Eaten pizza in New York? Yeah, all the time.” Glen shoved a fourth of the thing in his mouth.

“No. Not the pizza. Dated someone who lived on the West Coast?”

He finished chewing, picked up the red and white checkered napkin, and wiped his mouth. “Hmm, uh, no. Well, not as far as California.”

She made a little rolling motion with her hands.

“What?”

“How far have you gone for a date?”

He stared up at the ceiling before waving his pizza in the air. “France.” He popped more sauce, cheese, and dough into his mouth.

“France is farther than California.”

Glen was not going to give up his meal for the conversation. “You asked how far I flew for a date,” he said around his food. Talking with your mouth full was usually a complete turnoff for Mary, but Glen was the poster child for cute doing it. “That would be France. Dated . . . as in more than one date . . . Detroit.”

“So you flew to France to get laid and Detroit for a relationship.”

He cocked his head and stopped chewing when he took in her words. His slow nod of acknowledgment was followed by him shoving pizza in his mouth.

“What happened between you and Miss Detroit?”

He held his pizza but didn’t bite this time. “Miss Detroit, as you call her, came from money . . . I thought great, someone who has it won’t be using me to get mine.”

“I guess that isn’t how that turned out.”

He waved his pizza. “Daddy was cutting her off.” He took a bite.

He left the part that she was searching for someone else to support her unsaid.

“What about Miss France?”

He finished chewing, chased his food with cheap wine. “That was just fun.”

Mary knew her eyes were wide.

“We both knew it was for fun,” he quickly explained.

“Oh.”

“Have you ever done that?”

“Flown to France for fun? Ah, no.”

He smiled. “Flown, drove . . . taken a walk, just for the fun?”

Inside she cringed. She’d been asking personal questions, and Glen had answered with sincerity . . . she should probably follow his lead.

“College . . . once. It didn’t work out well and I couldn’t bring myself to do it again.”

“So what was wrong with Mr. College?”

Mary tipped back the last of the wine. “I was seeing someone from my modern lit class . . . it wasn’t serious . . . just college, ya know?”

“I went to college.” His smile told her he had all kinds of knowledge on the subject.

“One day Mr. College came along . . . asked me out. I was interested, but I put him off.”

“Because of Mr. Modern Lit?”

She shrugged. “Because I’d never dated two different guys at the same time. Eventually my girlfriends were in my face about how if Modern Lit and I didn’t have a conversation about exclusivity, then why was I treating our time together as exclusive. Then they went on about how did I know if Modern Lit wasn’t dating other girls. After all, we were in college.”

“So you listened to the girls and went out with Mr. College.”

“I did. Mr. College and I went out for fun, as you say it. Don’t look so impressed,” she teased. “It didn’t end well.”

“So what happened?”

She could almost see the inside of her dorm when she repeated the series of terrible events.

“Mr. College was leaving my dorm and Modern Lit was surprising me with Starbucks.”

“Oh, that’s bad.”

“It was awful. In the end I didn’t end up with either guy and didn’t date for close to a year.” She shivered. “Ugh!”

“I take it Modern Lit thought you were an item.”

“Yeah.”

“And Mr. College was . . . you were too much trouble for his time.”

“That about nails it.”

“So how is it you still like surprises after that?”

Good question. “I drank the Starbucks. It wasn’t the coffee’s fault I got caught in the walk of shame.”

Mary was not wearing a coat suitable for an early spring night in New York. Glen kept his arm around her as they quickly walked back to the hotel.

The minute they reached the room, he took the phone and ordered room service. “Red or white?” he asked her.

“Stick with red.”

“Chocolate, fruit, cheesecake, or ice cream?”

Mary shook her head. “I’ll have a bite of yours.”

She didn’t pay attention to his glare and didn’t answer his question. When room service answered his call, he ordered a bottle of merlot and then started ordering dessert. “We’d also like a slice of that triple chocolate cake and your chocolate covered strawberries . . . you have cheesecake, right?”

“Of course, Mr. Fairchild. Plain or with a fruit topping?”

“Plain . . . and do you have ice cream?”

“What are you doing?” Mary stepped in front of him, hands on her hips.

Glen simply smiled. “You didn’t tell me what you wanted so I’ll order it all.”

Mary snagged the phone from his hand. “We’ll take the chocolate covered strawberries. Only the strawberries.”

“And the chocolate cake,” Glen told her.

“And the cake,” she told the attendant. “No, we don’t need the cheesecake or the ice cream. The wine and two desserts will be plenty. Thank you.”

He really did like getting his way.

“You’re a brat.”

“I am,” he admitted. “And you’re stubborn.”

She grabbed her purse, muttered something under her breath, and walked into her bedroom. “I’ll be right back.”