Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) (33 page)

Not that they’d make towels. Who made stuff like that, anyway? She pulled the frayed label up to read some words that ended with
NY, NY.

Figures. She flung the towel over the shower curtain bar and marched out of the bathroom. She wasn’t going to follow a guy she’d been dating for just over a month to the other side of the country. She’d end up living with him. It was no use lying to herself, that’s what always happened, that’s what she would do. Then she’d immediately be at a disadvantage. His life wouldn’t have to change. His toothbrush wouldn’t even have to move.

Then, when there were troubles, and there would be, she’d be homeless again, except this time in New York on the other side of the country, where she had no friends or family. They might not even allow dogs in his building, and she wasn’t giving up Stool for some emotionally constipated widower who couldn’t even say goodbye when he walked out on a date—or a relationship—certainly not when the only fallback plan she had was for a career, which she’d never cared that much about anyway.

And New Yorkers would make fun of her clothes.

She went downstairs to make herself a drink before her mom came home. Funny she wasn’t there already. The movie had to be long over by now, and she didn’t like to drive at night so usually came straight home.

She picked up her phone from her purse on the way to the kitchen and saw a message from Liam.

It was voicemail, not text.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, “but I thought you’d like to know Mom is in the hospital.”

Chapter 29

W
ITHIN
THIRTY
MINUTES
, A
PRIL
STOOD
with Liam in the emergency room of the same big city hospital where they’d both been born. Their mother had been wheeled away before April got there.
 

“I didn’t know people got appendicitis when they were older,” April said, pulling at the fringe on her poncho. “A friend of mine had it when we were in high school. They said most people get it when they’re young.” She tried not to worry—it was a routine procedure, caught early—but the thought of her mother on a gurney made her want to yell at somebody.

“Not everyone,” Liam said.

“Why didn’t she call me? I can’t believe she just checked herself in and left you a message.”

“And she left me the voice mail at the office,” he said. “If I didn’t call in to check them every night before bed, I wouldn’t have heard it until I got in to work tomorrow morning.”

April shook her head. They were already prepping her for surgery. “She should’ve called me. Crazy woman.”

“Sounds like she’ll be able to go home the day after tomorrow. Maybe another day to recover, given her age.”

“She’s barely sixty, not ninety.”

“Still,” Liam said, “there are more risks.”

When they found out which waiting room they should go to, they headed out of the chaotic, crowded emergency room to the elevator.

“I can’t believe it happened so quickly,” April said, hitting the button. “She was fine, totally fine, just a few hours ago. She was going to the movies.”

“She said it had been bothering her for a few days. She did make it to the movies, though. Even bought popcorn.” He smiled. “Which she made me promise to get out of her car and bring home to Bev so it didn’t go to waste.”

They found the waiting room, more cloth and padding on the chairs than in the emergency room, and sat down together near a potted palm.

April took out her phone. It was just past eleven. No messages. Her mother had driven herself to the hospital so as not to spoil her daughter’s date. April didn’t know if she should admire her or see her as a cautionary tale of excessive maternal, or grand-maternal, instinct.

She put her phone away and looked at her hands. “She didn’t call me because Zack was at the house.”

“Figures.” He crossed one ankle over his knee, sighing. “Having Merry hasn’t slowed her down. If anything, it’s made her greedy.”

“It’s not that kind of relationship. Me and Zack.”

“Of course not,” he said. “When has reality ever mattered with her?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You know what I mean. A first date is just a baby shower waiting to happen. All it needs is cake and presents.”

“No,” she said, “I mean about me and Zack. Why ‘of course not’?”

He gave her a serious look. “Am I wrong?”

“I just wondered why
you
thought that.”

“Forget I said anything,” he said.

She put her elbows on her knees, propped her chin on her hands. “No, you were right. We broke up.”

“Sorry,” he said, and fell silent.

“Really?”

“Oh, no. Don’t ask me that. Please.”

“But you weren’t angry about us being together,” she went on.

“It’s none of my business.”

“You used to make my love life your business,” she said, realizing she sounded hurt.

“That’s because you were living in my condo and your business contaminated my personal bedding.”

She waited a long moment before asking, “Did you like him?”

He groaned, threw his head back. “We’re not talking about this.”

“We are, actually.”

“Not here,” he said. “Not now.”

The waiting room was empty except for a man on the other side of the room with his head propped against the wall, half-asleep. The administration desk behind the window to his left was empty.

Suddenly exhausted, she slumped against Liam and rested her head on his shoulder. “He’s moving to New York.”

“That’s where he lives.” His words were hard, but his tone had softened.

That only weakened the control she’d been holding over her tears. Everything had gone to hell. With a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and counted her blessings. Her brothers were pretty cool, even Liam. They’d married great women. Her niece was brilliant and feisty. Her mother was in the hospital with a mild ailment, hardly anything to fall apart about.

Her eyes burned anyway.

How could he end it so easily? Just walk away without a glance over his shoulder?

She wasn’t good with abandonment. Her father, even before he’d died, had never made any time for her. Was that it—she kept chasing guys who were like her father? Was it as simple as that?

How pathetic. She refused to be so predictable. “Would you beat him up if I asked you to?” she asked.

“After he turns in his report,” he said, “it would be my pleasure.”

Her smile stretched across the rough fabric of his jacket. “Really?”

He paused. “I would’ve fired him already if Bev hadn’t stopped me,” he mumbled.

“Fired him? Why? Not because of me?”

“Of course because of you. I hired him to dig into Fite, not my baby sister.”

“You can’t fire somebody because of that,” she said.

“Sure you can. He’s a consultant, not an employee.”

“But you have a contract,” she said.

“I would’ve found a way.”

She was still smiling. “Thanks.” She lifted her head and looked up at him. “I’m glad you didn’t, but it’s nice you wanted to.”

“I wish you weren’t so…” He trailed off.

“Slutty?”

“I did not say that.”

“You didn’t want to make me cry,” she said.

He laughed, putting an arm around her shoulders. “Optimistic. You think there’s more there than there is. Some of these guys you’ve dated… they’re not good enough for you, April. Not half as good as they should be.”

She enjoyed the compliment but didn’t think that had been the problem with Zack. He was brilliant, hard-working, loyal, considerate. If anything, she’d aimed too high. Until he’d walked out on her tonight, she would’ve said he was more than she deserved.

That was a disgusting thought. She should be grateful he left. She couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life with somebody who had that power over her.

Grateful, grateful, grateful.

“What did he do?” Liam asked.

Memories of their times in bed together flooded her mind. She pulled away. “What do you mean?”

“If I’m going to beat a guy up, I’d like to know why.”

“Never mind about that.”

He let out a frustrated breath. “Great. I have to keep working with this guy. Now I don’t know what to think.”

“He has to go back to New York for his next job, that’s all.” She made her voice light. “I wanted him to stay.”

Liam didn’t speak for a moment. “Did you ask him to?”

She pulled away. “I did, actually.”

“Son of a bitch,” he said.

“I know, right?”

Liam smacked his fist into his palm. “He’s going down.”

“Tempting, but I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Liam sat up taller. “Please.”

“You’re not getting any younger.” She was joking around to cheer herself up, but now she was thinking about her mother and where they were, the operation underway, and she deflated into her chair. “Seriously. This is between me and Zack. Except there isn’t anything between us anymore.”

Liam picked up an ancient
Sunset
magazine and flipped through the pages. Soft-focus photos of ideal West Coast homes and gardens danced before their eyes. “I can’t believe it,” he said.

She looked at the slipcovered sofa and colorful throw blankets displayed on the glossy pages. “I know. As if a real person’s house could look like that.”

He slapped the magazine shut. “Not this. You.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you’re giving up. April Johnson, the girl who went on strike in seventh grade. The woman who ended up in custody for hours because she wouldn’t walk through the scanner at the airport.” He studied her. “You must really care about this guy.”

“If I cared, wouldn’t I fight for him?”

“Maybe you only fight over things you don’t care about,” he said. “That way it doesn’t matter if you lose.”

April cursed under her breath. “Hit me while I’m down, why don’t you?”

“It only hurts because I’m right.”

“Wait until tomorrow, when Rita and Teegan and Jennifer convince you to fire me,” she said. “Maybe then you’ll feel guilty.”

“I’m not going to fire you,” he said.

It should’ve come as a relief, but she felt nothing. “With the rest of my life in the shits, I’m not sure I care that much about my job right now.”

“Well, that’s good, because I can’t promise Rita will keep you on.” He ran his hand through his blond hair. “I’m leaving the decision completely up to her. I can’t possibly be objective, especially now.”

“Why not now?”

He put an arm around her shoulders, bumping the side of his head against hers. “Because all I want to do right now is make you happy, Ape.” He twirled a strand of her hair. “I love you, you know.”

Although she did know, hearing it was damn nice.

* * *

Zack stared at his hands. They held a pen. The cheap pen from the gas station. The love pen, he used to call it—not entirely as a joke.

He was at home, only one night after their fatal last date, outlining a few ideas for his next job in his notebook and thinking of the way she used to tease him for carrying one all the time. Once they’d been watching TV at his place and he’d pulled it out—ideas strike at any time—and she’d confiscated it and drawn a picture of a dead man holding a daisy with a thought bubble rising above his head:
If only I’d spent more time at the office
.

He’d torn out the page and kept it in his wallet. He saw it every morning when he bought his coffee. On his way to work.

Everything reminded him of April. He couldn’t get away from her.

Except he could get away from her, because she would never consider following him. She found the idea unthinkable, outrageous, insane. Whatever they’d had, however profound it had felt to him, wasn’t enough to merit a plane trip across the country. He was loving too much, too soon, all over again.

He dropped his pen on the cardboard coffee table. If only they’d had more time. They’d only been coworkers until a month ago. Chucking her life to be with him on the other side of the country after five weeks of sleeping together would be idiotic. Of course she wouldn’t do it.

Imagine how she’d feel about
marrying
him.

He tore his hand through his hair. He thought he’d been so careful not to scare her away. He’d held back telling her how he needed her, how much he cared, how much he wanted.

And blown it anyway.

To take his mind off his misery, he did what he always did: turned his obsessive attention to his work. The next job at the tech start-up in New Jersey was only weeks away, and he’d have to start researching the new company immediately. He never walked into a new place without having a clue about what was wrong with it, where they might need him, why they’d
really
hired him.

Sylvester Minguez had given him the address, a few names, the website and press releases, but that wasn’t nearly enough. Sixty-three employees, most hired within the past year as the economy picked up and another tech bubble began to swell from the panting breath of positive-thinking capitalists.

He’d have to fly back. He couldn’t do this from the wrong coast. There were three guys putting up most of the money. He’d sit down with them face-to-face somewhere, buy them food and drink, hear the pitch that had gotten them to pony up the cash. Zack wasn’t a tech guy, and he wouldn’t know if their product was flawed at an engineering level—but he knew people and process, and he’d find a way to improve whatever they were doing, give them a chance to survive.

It was just the kind of project he’d dreamed about for years, a chance to get into the new economy. No more garment companies or gum-ball machine manufacturers. High tech. The future.

He booked the first flight to New York for the next morning and then took out a fresh notebook to begin brainstorming ideas about questions to ask the venture capitalist guys.

His mind blanked.

He got up and made a fresh coffee, returned to his notebook. Still nothing.

He’d spent the day finishing up most of his report for Fite, so it wasn’t that job that was interfering with his concentration.