Blissed (Misfit Brides #1) (25 page)

A smart man would’ve kept walking. A not-dumb man would’ve at least spent five or ten more minutes debating with himself.

But CJ walked right up the sidewalk, said a
good morning
to the elderly gentleman who held the door for him, and then made his way to apartment 2A where he knocked with all the ignorant confidence of the idiot that he was.

The door swung open—of course it did, because he wouldn’t have planned his own self-destruction at a time when fate could’ve intervened—and Kimmie’s already round blue eyes went rounder.

“Oh! Oh, no. Did I forget to pay last night? Ohmigod, I’m so sorry. I’m always doing that. Hold on. I’ll get money.”

“Kimmie. Wait. I’m not here about the bar.”

She paused, her body halting awkwardly with one arm mid-air and her hips off-center. Bafflement clouded her eyes, and her wavy hair seemed to stand at an extra level of confusion. She twisted back toward him, lowered her arm, and swung around, expertly avoiding the pile of cat toys on the floor. “You’re not?”

The way she wrinkled her nose reminded him of Cinna trying to puzzle out some of the more mature—or rather, immature—jokes he and Cori and Pepper used to make before she was old enough to get them. “Nope. Wanted to ask you something.”

She kept gaping at him.

He could appreciate that. He’d felt the same a few hours ago. Except when Natalie threw his world off its rotational axis, there’d been some hurt thrown in with the disbelief.

He should’ve been grateful she shut him out, because holding her, touching her, knowing her—it might’ve inspired ideas. Sneaky little ideas about family and forgiveness and acceptance. With some love and laughter and light thrown in.

Screw that. He had some rocks in Utah to climb. Marriage and family—it wasn’t his thing. Especially not with someone who didn’t know any more about it than he did.

“Can I come in?” he said to Kimmie.

“Oh!” She pulled the door wider and kicked a pile of clothes out of the way. “Yeah. Um, don’t mind the mess. Darn cats, right?” She gave an awkward half-laugh, half-snort.

He could’ve done worse. If his biggest objection was who her mother was, then he didn’t have any real objections. She wasn’t always predictable, but her heart was in the right place. That counted for more than what anyone else wanted him to do.

She led him past an efficiency kitchen and into a living room strewn with clothes, books, and cake magazines. “Your cats left the toaster alone?” CJ asked.

She flushed. “Yeah, they were good.”

One of the felines in question, a gray tabby, darted from beneath the sunshine orange couch to lick her paw in the window. Kimmie shoved a pile of kitchen towels off the matching recliner and gestured for him to sit. “You want some breakfast? I have these toaster pastry thingies in the freezer. Or cupcakes, but they’re not exactly decorated for company.”

He wasn’t sure what constituted
decorated for company,
but now he wished he’d looked closer at her kitchen.

Wasn’t why he was here though. He settled into the chair and tried to decide what to do with his hands.

Didn’t fit right on his knees. Or hanging between his knees. He thrust one through his hair. “I’m good. Thanks.”

She flitted about the room like a hummingbird. “Coffee? V8, maybe? Everybody needs their vegetables.”

“No, thank you.” He pointed toward the couch. “You mind sitting?”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” She plopped down, tucked her hands in her lap, then smoothed them down her lime green pants, then folded them again.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“I haven’t had any more dreams about you.” A half-frown dimmed her vibrating energy. “At least, I don’t think the vampire cow was you. Pretty sure that was somebody else.”

“You having trouble with somebody?”
That
, CJ could solve.

“Oh, no,” she said quickly.

Too quickly.

With too much emphasis on wagging her head back and forth.

“You sure?”

“No, no, no trouble at all,” she insisted. “I just—yeah. No trouble. Everything’s fine.” She stood, shot a nervous glance at him, and sat again. “So. You’re a morning person?”

“Sometimes.” He gave her an easy smile, but he couldn’t tell if the flush on her neck meant it was working or not. “How about you?”

“Depends on the dreams.”

He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.

“It’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to pretend I’m normal.”

“Normal’s overrated.”

“Can you tell my mom that?”

“Ah—”

“Never mind. She wouldn’t listen anyway. Unless you’re like the second coming of Prince Leopold.”

“Prince…?”

“Leopold. Father of the modern wedding cake. Kind of. When he got married—sorry. You’re not here for a cake history lesson, are you?”

No, but it was infinitely easier than talking about why he was here. “Always happy to learn something new.”

“If you stay too long, my mom will start to get ideas.” She lowered her voice. “And believe me, she hears
everything
.”

CJ swallowed a smile. “I’ve noticed.”

“So?” Kimmie said. “What can I do for you?”

CJ sat straighter, linked his fingers while his hands dangled between his knees. Now or never.

He hadn’t had the biggest balls in his marriage, but he’d never been a chicken. Wasn’t about to start now.

“I need a partner for the Golden Husband Games.”

Kimmie flashed him a
duh
look. “And you’re getting short on time. I was pretty young at the Silver Husband games, and nobody’s saying yet which games are on the schedule, but everyone knows it was the how-well-do-you-know-your-wife quiz that totally turned the tide twenty-five years ago. And if it’s not that, it’ll be something else. You need to quit stringing all those women along and make a decision, or there’s no chance you’ll win. Plus you’ll be late with getting the team designs to the T-shirt shop, and my mom will julienne your carrots if you don’t do a few interviews.” She clamped a hand over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, muffled. “No right to nag you.”

“No, you’re right. I need to decide.” Pick a partner or bail on the games.

Over the last few hours he’d given plenty of thought to bailing. But he always circled back to not being a coward.

And to remembering that he’d promised Serena that they would spend their fifth anniversary here. That he’d play in the Husband Games again for her. Natalie was right. He had a chance to honor his wife and help Bliss at the same time. Serena would’ve appreciated that.

Kimmie swayed on the couch. “Still, your fake wife’s the one who should nag you. Practice, right?”

He lifted his eyebrows at her.

“Ohmigod,” she said. “Nuh-uh.” She jumped up and launched into her hummingbird impersonation again.

This was the tough part, and not just because she was moving so quickly about the room that CJ couldn’t entirely concentrate on what he had to say. “All I’m looking for is a friend,” he said. “I know I’m asking a lot, but—”

“What about Natalie?”

Wasn’t that the question?

He could’ve done the dumb guy thing.
What about her?
Could’ve simply pretended she didn’t exist.

But he owed Kimmie the truth. “She said no.”

Swift injury flitted across Kimmie’s features, then an almost cheerful resignation set in.

“Figure it’s best if I’m honest with you,” he said. It’d worked for his parents for years. Couple of his sisters too.

“She really said no?” Kimmie said.

CJ nodded.

“I guess that makes sense. My mom would pretty much cream everyone’s butter if Nat played, and Natalie’s working so hard to make sure the Games are everything her mom wanted them to be, and after the way the
last
Games she played in went—erm, I mean—”

“All good, Kimmie.”

She was right. Natalie was scared. And maybe CJ was being an ass, asking Kimmie to be his partner this soon after Nat said no, but being an ass was what he did.

Especially when it came to holy matrimony.

Kimmie’s gaze darted over him, then to the rest of the room, then back to him. “Then if you’re sure—”

“I’m sure.”

“Wow. Thanks. It’s not like I’ll ever play in the Husband Games for real, you know?” She gave another one of her little half-laughs. “My mom’s gonna pass raspberry ganache when she hears this.”

He’d considered
not
asking Kimmie for exactly that reason. He was absurdly grateful he wouldn’t have Marilyn Elias as his mother-in-law the rest of his life. On a temporary basis, though, he was eighty percent sure he could handle it. “This won’t cause problems for you, will it?”

She waved his question away. “Are you kidding? After this, I could knock over a cake in the middle of a reception and she’d still weep tears of joy.” She froze. “So are we, like,
exclusive
? Because I’ve never non-dated a temporary fake husband before. This isn’t the kind of thing they teach in Bliss’s public education system. You’d think they would though, wouldn’t you?”

Crazy-ass town was growing on him, because he could see her point. “I won’t be dating anyone else. But if you meet someone and want out, I’ll understand.”

“That would be weird, even for Bliss.”

“Kimmie, I’ve been around the world, so you can take this to the bank,” CJ said. “There’s nothing too weird for Bliss.”

N
ATALIE HAD EVERY intention of proceeding with her life on Sunday as though everything were normal. And she did pretty well, too—she sold a few dresses and got next week’s schedule done, she kept Noah happy by letting him play dinosaurs in the shop basement, and she only caught herself looking out the window in hopes of glimpsing CJ every other minute.

But facts were facts.

They’d had mind-blowing, life-altering sex, and then she’d let him go.

And he’d let her.

Obviously, they had no future. Only memories.

She made it through the Knot Fest meeting without drawing any attention to herself. Kimmie was conspicuously absent, and Marilyn had been positively giddy. Which was frankly terrifying.

For many reasons.

But Natalie didn’t have the strength to deal with Marilyn drama today. Or any more drama. She’d given herself enough in her personal life.

Or so she thought, until Duke and Elsie made their report.

The Golden Husband Games were back on track.

Without Natalie.
Because
of all that she’d done, and she was still fielding calls and e-mails from people who didn’t yet trust Duke and Elsie or hadn’t yet heard the news. But to the rest of the world, the Games were on track without Natalie.

By the time she stumbled back home after the meeting Sunday night and paid Noah’s second sitter of the weekend, she wanted to curl up and cry.

But life had one more kick for her, in the form of a phone call near midnight.

Mrs. Tanner, Noah’s day care lady, was in the hospital for emergency bypass surgery following a heart attack.

Facing the mortality of the woman who cared for Noah forty hours a week made Natalie feel as if she were living through Mom’s final moments all over again. The shock. The fear. The denial.

Nat didn’t sleep the rest of the night, and she felt only marginally better when she got word early Monday morning that surgery had gone fine and Mrs. Tanner was expected to make a full recovery.

It was the news she never got when Mom collapsed on the shop floor. That night, when she’d gone to pick Noah up from day care, Mrs. Tanner had held them both while Nat told him Grandma wasn’t coming home.

Thank God she didn’t have to tell him he’d lost someone else.

No time to dwell on it though—which was probably a blessing—because Nat had a shop to run and short-term day care to find.

And when she failed at the latter, she didn’t have much hope that the former would be easy. Especially when Noah started wailing as soon as they pulled onto The Aisle.

“I forgot Baby Dinosaur,” he cried. “We have to go back for Baby Dinosaur!”

“Baby Dinosaur? Noah, you don’t have a baby dinosaur.” 

He broke down in blubbers she couldn’t understand, so she turned the car around and headed for home to figure out what he was talking about. She couldn’t not. Because Mrs. Tanner would be okay, but odds were good Natalie and Noah would be gone from Bliss by the time she recovered, and they had to make this new arrangement work until then.

Fifteen minutes later, they left home again, this time with Baby Dinosaur strapped into a booster seat beside Noah. Cindy the Stegosaurus had apparently undergone a name and personality change. Noah happily chatted with the stuffed orange dinosaur, shrieking and giggling and squirming with all the pent-up energy of a four-year-old boy.

Keeping him at the shop the next few weeks wasn’t a good idea. He needed a safe place to run and play and yell and be a kid.

She needed to figure out a solution.

She needed to call Dad.

Ask him for help.

But she kept letting him down. Kept letting him fight her battles. It was no one’s fault Mrs. Tanner had had a heart attack—not even the QG could be that cruel, even if she
could
cause another person’s health problems. Natalie still needed to handle her issues herself.

To be a grown-up, and to do the grown-up thing.

When she walked into Bliss Bridal, though, one more bombshell dropped.

Amanda was waiting with
news
.

She made eye contact with Natalie’s hairline when she asked if they could talk a minute. Back in the office, she stared at Nat’s left cheek. “I’ve been grateful for the opportunity to work for your family so long,” she started, and Natalie knew.

Her manager, the longest-running employee at Bliss Bridal, was leaving.

“Will they take good care of you?” Nat interrupted.

Amanda flushed, but she nodded. “It’s a good package.” Finally, she looked Natalie in the eye. “I don’t want to leave you hanging, but with everything so uncertain here… I can’t turn it down. It’s in Chicago, and if I’m ever going to see life outside of Bliss, I need to go now.”