Marrying Mister Perfect (8 page)

Lou’d been quiet all afternoon, but that
might just have been a side effect of not being able to get a word
in edgewise when Kelly got going.

“Or, if you really want to keep a girl who
fails a test, you have to make a really big deal about second
chances and forgiveness and all that crap. And do it in a way that
the producers can’t edit out.” Kelly made a face. “There are always
some girls who are really horrid cows but beat all the challenges
because they’ve watched the show a million times and know what to
look for. It’s a shame you won’t be able to see the Suitorettes’
confessional footage. The things some of those girls will admit to
on camera. Oi. Do not be one of those idiots, Jack. At all times,
you must remember that everything you say can and
will
be
used against you in the court of public opinion.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You should be writing this down.” Kelly
frowned.

“
You
should write it down,” Jack
suggested. “
How to Beat Marrying Mister Perfect
. Instant
bestseller.”

Kelly’s eyes lit. “I’ll make you a manual!
Will you have email when you’re there?”

“I don’t think so. It sounds like all contact
with the outside world is pretty restricted.”

Small fingers tapping on the glass of the
sliding door forestalled whatever Kelly would have said next. Emma
squeezed through the opening and padded over to stand at Lou’s side
with mustard in her hair and her lower lip shoved out in a pout.
“The boys are being mean.”

“Boys are dumb,” Kelly announced without a
second’s hesitation.

“Hey,” Peter protested mildly.

Kelly stuck her tongue out at her husband,
causing Emma to giggle. Out of the corner of his eye Jack saw Lou
suppressing a smile. It was a small moment, one of a million little
memories of his girls he’d be missing while he was away. His chest
tightened.

Jack shoved his chair back from the table,
opening his arms. “Come here, baby. You can help me finish my pie.”
Daddy has to be on National television shirtless next
week.

“Really?” Emma didn’t have to be asked twice.
She clambered up into his lap, bony elbows jabbing him in every
possible soft tissue before she finally settled into place and dug
into his pie. Jack looped his arms around her and rested his chin
on top of her baby-fine hair.

He glanced to his left and caught Lou
watching them. Her expression was inscrutable—like she was so far
down into her own mind none of what she was thinking could make it
to the surface. He’d caught that expression on her face a lot
lately.

“Oh!” Kelly burst out suddenly. “The
compatibility tests! When they reveal the results to you—I think
that’s week four?—there’s always one girl who is like
ninety-nine-point-nine percent compatible with you. Keep her. Even
if there is no sizzle whatsoever. The ones who ended up picking
their most compatible matches as the final winners are the only
couples who make it past the first year.”

“All two of them,” Peter snorted.

“If anyone scores less than fifty percent
compatibility,
run
, do not walk, away from that chick. The
host—Josh Pendleton, so dreamy—always tries to talk Mr. Perfect
into keeping one of them, and then she ends up having an on camera
meltdown and turning into a stalker by week six. Those
internationally renowned matchmakers they brag about know their
stuff. Flaunt the compatibility tests at your peril.”

“What’s a ‘patability test?” Emma piped
up.

“A test of how cuddle-able someone is.” Jack
squeezed Emma until she giggled and squirmed. “See? We’re very
compatible.”

Kelly frowned absently, another bite of pie
dangling precariously from her waving fork. “You know, they
probably had to redo all the compatibility stuff, since you aren’t
the guy they originally picked all these girls for. Do you know if
they recast any of the women when the astronaut fell through?”

Jack shrugged. “They don’t tell me anything.
I’m just Mr. Perfect.”

Saying it out loud sounded odd and he
realized it was the first time he’d referred to himself that way.
Other people had called him that, but to say it about himself felt…
wrong
.

“This is so cool,” Kelly gushed as she
bounced out of her chair and began clearing the desert plates,
oblivious to his sudden discomfort. “I know Mr. Perfect!”

The last few weeks as he’d fielded dozens of
calls about the show, it had always felt like people were referring
to someone else when they talked about Mr. Perfect. He’d been
disconnected from the role he’d be playing, still Daddy to Emma and
TJ, still Jack to Lou, still Dr. Doyle to everyone at the hospital.
But starting now he would be Mr. Perfect to a few million people
he’d never met. That would be
him
.

Jesus.
What was he getting himself
into?

Lou’s fingers rested softly on his wrist.
“You okay?” she asked, the low question just carrying to his
ears.

And just like that he remembered why he was
going. Not so he could stake a claim to fame, relive his bachelor
days or “bang a bunch of hot women” as Peter had jokingly suggested
earlier, but to give Lou a chance for the life she deserved. And,
yeah, for himself too. He wasn’t a saint. This wasn’t entirely
selfless. The show would finally give them both a chance at
something that wasn’t temporary.

A flicker of heady anticipation began to stir
in his blood. He’d been all work and no play for a long time. It
was impossible not to be excited by the idea of play being his work
for the next two months.

He rolled his hand beneath Lou’s and linked
their fingers. “I think it just hit me,” he admitted, smiling
wryly. Emma wiggled and resettled herself in his lap, her head
tucked against his chest.

Lou’s hand was warm in his, but her
expression was still distant. Already a thousand miles away.
“You’ll be great.”

Chapter
Eight

“Emma! TJ! Come say goodbye. Your father has
to catch his flight.”

Jack handed his carry-on to the limo driver
the show had sent and turned back, hovering in the doorway. He
waited for the kids to run into his arms, but there was no sound of
a thundering herd. Just a pair of voices shouting, “Bye, Dad!” from
the living room.

Lou smiled sympathetically and patted his
arm. “You’ve never gone away for more than a day before,” she
reminded him. “They don’t understand how long eight weeks is going
to be. That doesn’t mean they won’t miss you. And we’ll see you a
week from Saturday.”

“I know.” It was probably easier this way
than if they were crying and begging him to stay, but the blithe
indifference still stung.

These couple days he’d been trying to hold
onto every second, pack away each memory, but that only seemed to
make the time fly faster, the attempt to hold onto the moments like
holding a fistful of water. Things had been odd with Lou, too.
She’d been distant. Reserved.

Normally the house echoed with shrieks of
laughter, but lately things had been all too quiet. The mood
subdued. Last night bath time was somber, story-time eerily silent.
He would have written it off as the kids bracing for his absence,
but he got the distinct impression they were picking up the mood
from Lou.

He’d known that she was the source of the
life in his house, but it had never been drawn in more sharp relief
than in the last couple days.

Growing up, achievement had been held above
all else for Jack. His parents had never really latched onto the
whole parenting thing, though they’d liked the idea of a legacy.
The fact that he would be a doctor was a foregone conclusion—though
he was allowed to pick his specialty. He was just lucky it turned
out he loved the career that had been chosen for him by the Doctors
Doyle at birth.

It hadn’t been a bad childhood. He hadn’t
been unhappy, but his house had never been what he would have
described as fun. Jack had wanted things to be different for his
kids. And Lou had been a huge part of that.

And now she was standing away from him, arms
wrapped around her middle, holding herself in a way that was
intensely self-contained, as if she was afraid to touch him.

Communication had never really been his
strong suit. He wasn’t really excellent at picking up on subtle
emotional cues, but even he knew something was different. He didn’t
want to go through this crazy TV-show thing without her on his
side. Lou was his best friend. His anchor. He needed her.

He didn’t feel ready for this, but he’d run
out of time to gear himself up. In two days he would meet the women
among whom the show’s producers hoped would be his perfect match.
Until then, his time would be consumed by last minute wardrobe
fittings and interviews.

The adventure started now.

Even though Jack had never been the type to
balk in the face of a challenge, he stalled in the doorway,
reluctant to leave. His life had fallen into such a comfortable,
familiar routine these last four years and now every second of
every day was going to be foreign and new.

In theory, he still wanted this experience.
In reality, he couldn’t make himself walk out the door.

“Lou…” When she looked up at him, there was a
flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes. There then gone. “If
you change your mind about this, you can tell me anytime you want
to pull the plug and it’s over. Just say the word.”

She ducked her head. Wisps of her hair
escaped from her ponytail and hung around her face. He could smell
the faint, familiar whiff of her peach shampoo. “We’ll see you next
weekend for the first visit. You’ll be so busy you won’t even miss
us.”

“It should be me giving you a pep talk.
You’re the one who has to deal with the demolitionist children by
yourself.”

Lou laughed, the sound oddly forced. “Are you
kidding? Between Kelly and the grandparents all begging to help out
while you’re away, I’ll be lucky if I ever get to see the
kids.”

Hesitation still hovered in the air, along
with that sense of distance. Jack caught her hand and Lou lifted
startled eyes to his at the contact. “Have I told you how grateful
I am for everything you’ve done for us? For everything you’ve done
for me?”

Lou blushed and tucked her chin down,
embarrassed as ever by any hint of praise. “You never had to, Jack.
I already know.”

“I should still say it.”

Lou smiled, but didn’t raise her eyes. “We
don’t talk about stuff like that.”

Jack frowned, realizing the truth in her
words. They talked about the kids, about his work, about the broken
washing machine or remodeling the kitchen. They talked about what
movie to rent or which restaurant to go to. He knew she hated
brussel sprouts and liked any movie set in a foreign locale. He
knew how she felt about every detail of their day-to-day lives
together, but they never talked about the mushy feelings stuff. In
the short time since the show had come into their lives, they’d
probably talked more about how they felt than they had in the last
four years combined.

It just never seemed to come up. He never
said he was grateful, never told her how he would drown without
her.

And she never said she was trapped. But he
knew she had to feel trapped.

So he would go. Find Mrs. Perfect and bring
her home to free the perfect friend currently imprisoned in his
guest room.

“Well, maybe we should talk about it,” he
said when the silence stretched. “At least once or twice a
year.”

Lou laughed softly and finally looked up to
meet his eyes. “I’ll put it on the calendar. You can tell me you
appreciate me again in March.”

Then her smile died. He knew they were both
wondering if she would still be living with them in March.
Everything could be different by then. Jack shook away the sense of
melancholy that thought inspired.

Everything
should
be different. Lou
deserved her own Mr. Perfect.

From the porch behind him, the limo driver
cleared his throat.

Jack grimaced. “I guess that’s my cue.”

He turned to look down at her at the exact
moment Lou leaned up to kiss his cheek. They bumped against one
another and her lips landed against the corner of his mouth,
startling them both. For a second neither moved, frozen in the
awkwardness of the accidental almost-kiss.

Her lips were soft and warm. Not that he’d
expected them to be anything else—he’d just never given any thought
to Lou’s lips. Now his eyes fell to them and he frowned. How had he
gone all these years living with her and never once even thought of
kissing Lou? She really did have a very pretty mouth, the full
lower lip…

Lou jerked back, flustered. “I…”

“Right,” he mumbled, shoving a hand through
his hair.

Awareness sizzled through him, oddly fueled
by her awkwardness. They were never awkward with one another. If
anything, their curse was that they were too at ease, complacent
even.

That complacency was gone now. Tension
crackled like static in the air between them. The curious urge to
kiss her,
really
kiss her, hadn’t entirely gone away.

Lou wet her lips. Jack tracked the movement
with his eyes.

“Well, have a nice flight!” she said, her
voice a little too loud.

Her sudden cheeriness jarred him out of the
odd mood he’d fallen into. He blinked, taking a step away from her,
out onto the porch.

Where was his brain? He hadn’t actually been
about to kiss Lou, had he?
Lou
, for Christ’s sake.

“I’ll call every day,” he said, trying to get
back on normal footing.

Her false good cheer faded, her pale blue
eyes softening. “We’ll miss you, Jack.”

“I’ll miss you too.” He closed the distance
he’d put between them. Catching her around the shoulders, he pulled
her into a bear hug—just like buddies. All he had to do was add a
little back thumping and they’d be bros. “You’re the best, Lou.
What would I do without you?” he grunted against her peach-scented
hair, squeezing her tight.