Not Your Match (4 page)

But what went up must come down, and soon she’d spiral into depression.

Whitney was good at hiding things, but eventually Ben would realize something was up. He wouldn’t want to upset the balance, so he’d watch her closely, his heart in his throat. Sometimes just mentioning the medication would send her on the downward slope. When in the grips of depression, Whitney couldn’t get out of bed. She’d lost five jobs over the last four years due to her bipolar disorder. Ben had done his absolute best to love and support Whitney. To help in any way he could. He’d tried to love her through it.

But it was never enough. She always blamed him for her problems when at her very worst. Maybe it was because he was the one who had been there when she’d received her initial diagnosis and encouraged her to seek treatment. Whatever the reason, she’d left him three times.

He couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt to be apart from Whitney.

But it hurt more to be with her.

“Ben?”

Ben blinked, realizing Barbara had been talking. “Sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“If you went to Vegas and spoke to her, I’m sure she’d come back.” Barbara rushed to continue, as though sensing he would protest. “Russ and I would pay for your travel, of course. She loves
you.”

“I know. And I loved her. But I can’t keep doing this.” Because once Whitney left, she sunk lower and lower into her relapse. And eventually, whoever she was crashing with called Ben or her parents. Sometimes it was because the depression made her suicidal, and sometimes it was because the mania made her unpredictable and reckless. And Ben would force her to go to her therapist and get back on her medication.

If she would just work with
him instead of against him, maybe . . .

No. It was too late for that.

“I’m really sorry,” Ben said. “I truly hope Whitney seeks help.”

Barbara sniffled on the other end of the line. “We understand. She’s put you through a lot the last four years. I’m sorry for calling.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ben heard the thickness in his voice and swallowed. “Thanks for letting me know she’s safe.” He wanted to say “keep me informed,” but knew it was no longer his place. Whitney had closed that chapter on his life, and he wasn’t about to reopen the book. Again.

“I’ll let you go,” Barbara said. “Take care of yourself, Ben.”

Ben said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. He looked at it, the pit in his stomach as heavy as lead.

The bell rang, shrill and ear-splitting. Ben jumped, then shoved his phone back in his pocket. He watched as students streamed out of the school, laughing and eager for the two week vacation. They seemed so carefree and excited for the future. He waited almost twenty minutes, until the cars had driven away and the school had quieted down. Then he walked back inside to look at his classroom.

The hallway was eerily quiet. Ben pushed the door open and flipped on the lights. His students would be his focus now.

Ben looked around his new classroom, determination welling within him. Twelve lab tables filled the spacious room in two rows of six, with a large teacher’s desk at the front. The tables were solid and durable, and lacked the curse words etched into the worn laminate desks he’d had in his old classroom. Over the next hour, Ben found dog-eared science magazines alongside brand new textbooks, tablets that looked like they were never used, and transparencies for worksheets that didn’t appear to have been updated since the moon landing.

It appeared as though the old science teacher had ignored the new supplies in favor of the old and familiar ones. But Ben wouldn’t make the mistake of clinging to what was familiar instead of embracing change.

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. He started by making piles—one for materials he planned on using, another for materials he would never use but another teacher might want, and a third for items that were useless and should be tossed. He’d send Principal Stewart an email when he got home and find out what the protocol was for that sort of thing. Then he cleaned—something else that didn’t appear to have been done in about three decades. He wished he could scrub Whitney from his mind as easily as he scrubbed away the dirt on the cabinets.

Ben’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket.

Rachel: Are you going to be here for dinner?

Ben glanced at the clock. Crap. He hadn’t realized it was nearly seven. He quickly texted Rachel that he was on his way, locked up his classroom, and left, his shoulders square and spine straight.

Barbara’s call had thrown him. But he knew he’d made the right decision.

Ben opened Rachel’s front door to the scent of grilled chicken and baked potatoes. He inhaled deeply, then walked into the kitchen. Rachel set a tossed salad on the table while Adam carried a basket of rolls.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Rachel said. “Wash up and this is ready.”

A moment later, they all sat down at the table and filled their plates.

“This looks delicious, Rach,” Ben said. “Sorry I was late. After the meeting I worked on my classroom and lost track of time.”

“Oh,” Rachel said, her voice cool. “You’ve could’ve texted.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m glad you got some work done,” Adam said. Ben’s brother-in-law was ten years older than Rachel, with graying hair at his temples and a face beginning to show laugh lines. But he was dependable and easy-going, which made him the perfect yang to Rachel’s yin. “How did it go with Don?”

Ben grabbed a roll. “Don?”

“Principal Stewart,” Adam said.

“Oh. It went fine,” Ben said. “I can’t wait to get started on lesson plans. It seems like the students will need a lot of help to be brought up to grade level.”

“Sounds like a hard job,” Rachel said.

Her tone instantly put Ben on edge. It was the
you’re making a mistake
tone she’d often used with him growing up. He might be two years older, but she’d always been the one in charge. “Teaching is a challenge. That’s why I like it.”

Rachel put down her fork, focusing on Ben. “Are you sure moving here was the right choice?”

“Rachel,” Adam said, the warning making his voice rough.

“I had to get out of there,” Ben said.

“You made your decision pretty hastily,” Rachel said.

Ben sawed at his chicken. “It might have seemed that way to you, but trust me, it was a long time coming.”

“You and Whitney were so good together,” Rachel said. “I know you guys have had a few rough patches, but all relationships do. Don’t you think it would be better to try and work it out?”

Ben clenched his hands, the knife handle digging into his palm. It wasn’t Rachel’s fault she had no idea how awful things had been. Whitney didn’t like people to know about her mental illness, and Ben had respected her wishes and kept the specifics quiet. Rachel knew Whitney was bipolar, of course, but she didn’t know how bad it got. Only Barbara and Russ knew the extent of Whitney’s problems.

Rachel quickly wiped under her eyes. “I hate seeing you both hurt,” she said. “Whitney’s one of my best friends.”

“And I’m your brother.”

“And the two of you should be together.”

Adam placed his hand over Rachel’s, effectively bringing the argument to an end. “We know you’re doing what’s best for you, Ben, and we respect your decision.”

Rachel glared at Adam, but didn’t contradict him. The next few minutes were thick with uncomfortable silence as they all ate.

“Should we talk about Christmas Eve dinner?” Adam asked finally. He nodded to Rachel. “I know you wanted to finalize plans.”

Rachel’s expression lightened and her shoulders relaxed. “I told Andi to be here at five, but dinner isn’t until seven—I wanted a time buffer in case she gets caught at work. Dessert will be around nine, and I have a few games planned for the evening that I think will be fun.”

Christmas Eve with Andi. It was the bright spot in an otherwise depressing holiday. Ben thought of the way her eyes sparkled when she laughed, the feel of her soft skin against his as they danced. For the first time since the breakup, he was actually looking forward to Christmas.

Andi’s client sat across the desk from her, large and imposing. He leaned over the divorce decree, his fat fingers gripping the paper as he eagerly read through the document. The decree she’d helped write, with the perfect wording so his wife would get nothing.

She hadn’t wanted to do it. But the prenup tied her hands. After draining their joint checking account, the wife hadn’t been able to hire an attorney of her own.

He wasn’t one of Galloway, Harmon, and Witte’s wealthiest clients. Not even close. If he had been, Andi wouldn’t be handling his account. But he was wealthy enough, and rich enough, that he’d still cheated his wife out of a significant amount. He’d insisted they sign the paperwork today—on Christmas Eve—instead of waiting until next week, just to ruin his wife’s holiday.

Andi stomach curdled and she thought she might be sick. This is what love did to people.

Her client signed the last document with a flourish and leaned back in his chair. It creaked with the effort of containing his girth. “So we’re done?” he asked.

Andi nodded, gathering the divorce decree and flipping through it to verify he hadn’t missed any signatures. “I’ll make sure these are filed before I leave the office today.” She reached across the desk and shook his hand. “Good luck. Be sure to call if you need anything.”

The man nodded and rose. He staggered out of the room with heavy footsteps and a gleeful smile. Once he was out of sight, Andi grabbed the hand sanitizer out of her desk drawer and squirted it into her palm. How had she gotten here? She worked seventy hours a week doing tedious contracts. Some jobs were rewarding, such as adoption cases or when she helped free a spouse from an abusive relationship, but most of the time, she felt like she was finding ways to circumvent the law without actually breaking it. Loopholes in prenups to ensure that when the marriage went to hell, the cheater would still come out ahead. Helping her clients negotiate the least amount to pay in alimony.

Mark had encouraged her to take the easy, sure-fire job with her dad instead of searching for something else. She never should’ve listened to him. She’d always wanted to go into family law, but had known the type of cases her father’s firm typically dealt with weren’t the philanthropic endeavors she’d imagined.

I’m getting much-needed experience,
she reminded herself. If she could stick it out for a few years, she’d have enough seniority to refuse cases.

At home, Andi threw on a green sweater and her favorite pair of jeans—festive, but still comfortable. She brushed out her long honey-blonde hair and picked a pair of Christmas tree earrings to wear.

A knock came at the door. Andi frowned, then walked into the front room and peered through the peep hole. Her neighbor from across the hall waved. Andi quickly unlocked the door and opened it.

“Hey, Madelynn,” Andi said. Madelynn was near Andi’s age, curvy with corkscrew ebony curls and almond-shaped eyes. “I thought you guys were gone.”

“We’re leaving for my parents in a few minutes,” Madelynn said. “We meant to go yesterday, but something came up.”

“Oh no. Nothing with the school, I hope?” Madelynn’s husband had been accepted into medical school in the Cayman Islands. He started in January, and they had decided to spend the holidays in Oregon with their families before making the move.

“No, everything’s fine with school.” Madelynn’s eyes welled with tears. “Our renter called yesterday. She got fired from her job so she had to back out of the lease.”

“Oh, Madelynn.” Andi reached out and gave her neighbor a tight hug. “Here, come in for a second. Tell me what happened.”

Madelynn followed Andi inside and sank onto the couch. “There’s nothing much to tell. She can’t pay, so it’s not like we want
her renting. But now we don’t know what to do. I spent all yesterday packing up the last of our stuff while Braden called rental companies and listing agents. But it was hard to get anywhere since a lot of people started their holiday early.”

“I’m so sorry.” Andi rubbed a hand up and down Madelynn’s arm. “How can I help?”