Perfect Fit (17 page)

Assured she’d recovered from the shock, he returned to his seat on the couch. “Here’s the situation.” Mike explained everything: the mayor’s request to clean up corruption, how it had led to the evidence room and the money, and how he and Cara had ended up at Judge Baine’s house and the man’s Alzheimer’s-induced ranting. “But there’s truth to some of what he said. There has to be. At the very least, he linked himself to Rex and admitted holding out on Simon. And Dad—well, Sam tried to talk to him about that time right before he got sick and he shut down completely. Wouldn’t say a word.”

Ella rose and paced the room.

Mike let her absorb his information before asking, “Mom, was Rex involved in anything back then?”

She turned, but didn’t meet his gaze.

“Mom?”

“Look, back then I was so absorbed in being pregnant and Rex’s reaction and then his leaving…I’m telling you the truth.” She clenched and unclenched her hands. “But I
can tell you this,” she said softly. “Rex liked a challenge; he skated on the edge.”

“Like me,” Mike muttered, more to himself than to her.

“You don’t skate on illegalities, Michael. There were good parts of Rex, and those are the things you inherited from him. Don’t do this to yourself.”

He shook his head, agreeing with her on some things, not on others. “So I’m back to where I started. Either I push Dad, which I can’t do while he’s so weak, or I find Rex and get the answers myself.”

His mother swayed on her feet.

Mike muttered a curse, rose, and wrapped his arms around her, leading her to the sofa. “Sit.”

She did as he instructed.

“I’m getting you something to drink. Hang on.” Mike went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of orange juice. “Here. Drink this.”

He sat next to his mother while she drained the glass.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry to do this to you now.”

She shook her head. “Work or not, you have every right to ask about your father.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until she looked up at him. Reaching out, she touched his hair, running her fingers through the too-long strands in a motherly gesture he remembered from childhood. “You look so much like him, you know.”

He glanced away. He didn’t know. Wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep any pictures. It was thoughtless of me, but I was young and I didn’t want Simon to think I still held a torch, you know?”

He nodded, not wanting to know the answer to that question either.

“So you want to find him?” his mother asked.

“Want to?” Mike let out a harsh laugh. “No. But I need to.”

“I’ve been in touch with him.”

The words came out so whisper soft he thought he heard wrong.

He whipped his head around and looked at his mother. “Say that again.”

“I’ve been in touch with Rex.”

Disbelief and a sense of betrayal ripped through him. When? How? “I thought he was MIA.”

His mother hung her head. “He was. And then a little while ago, he friended me on Facebook.”

“That’s why you got so upset at that family dinner. All that talk about Facebook and old flames.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What did he want?” Mike asked through clenched teeth.

“He was curious about you,” she whispered.

Pain lodged in his chest. “Too little, too late,” Mike muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t! Imagine how Simon would feel if he knew Rex was asking about his family. Especially while he’s in treatment.”

“What about me? What’s your excuse for keeping me in the dark?” he asked through the red haze of anger, hurt, and frustration that clouded his thoughts and his vision.

“This. Your anger at him. Your ambivalence about yourself. You’re so afraid you’re like him—I know you personalized that mess with Tiffany, though heaven knows that girl was a clinging vine. But now you’re home and you’re here…I didn’t want to jeopardize your peace of mind.” She closed her eyes, weariness and strain evident in her face and how she’d hunched her shoulders.

He reached out and pulled her close. “You should have told me,” he said, unable to stay furious at his mother.

“I know. Even Cara said so, but I didn’t listen.”

Mike froze. “Cara knows?”

His mother moaned. “Oh God. I’m sorry. That same night, we were talking about her parents, and I said I understood what it was like to doubt your choices. I didn’t plan on telling her, but I guess I needed someone to talk to because before I knew it, I had. And she said you should know, and I made her swear not to tell you.”

“Okay,” he said, to appease his mother.

Cara knew. He thought she understood him. Thought he could trust her in a way he’d trusted no other woman. Yet she’d sat with him at the judge’s house, listened to him say he needed to find the father he hated, and she’d known his mother was in touch with the man. And still she’d said nothing.

“Michael Marsden, don’t you dare be mad at Cara,” his mother said, shaking his shoulders. “I put her in an awful position.”

“Maybe.” But he was sleeping with the woman, revealing himself to her on all sorts of levels.
She should have told him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told his mother.

“You aren’t upset with her?”

“I’m seeing her for dinner tonight,” he said, evading the question.

“That’s not an answer.” His mother’s voice was stronger now. She’d composed herself and was back to her forceful self.

“It’s all I have at the moment.” He rose to his feet. “Where can I find him?” he asked of Rex.

She swallowed. “He’s in Nevada.”

“Vegas?” Mike asked.

His mother nodded.

“Figures,” Mike muttered.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, wringing her hands as she spoke.

He met his mother’s gaze and answered honestly. “I have no fucking idea.”

She blanched at his language, but she didn’t correct him, obviously knowing he deserved the outburst.

“I have to go.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Tell Dad I said hi.”

“Mike, please. Calm down and let’s talk again before you do anything.”

He wasn’t making any promises. “I love you,” he said, before walking out the door and into the cold sunshine and bright light of day.

He was numb. Angry. Hurt. Pissed. And he had to work it all out before he picked up Cara tonight and took her out with old friends. Or the night he’d been looking forward to was going to end up being a nightmare instead.

Cara was more excited about dinner than she let
herself admit. But before she could focus, she needed to do some grocery shopping because her fridge was empty. She pushed a cart up and down the aisle in the Food Mart, following the list she’d made. She often cooked on Sunday, freezing some meals for the week, so she stocked up on both basics and snack foods.

As she turned into the last aisle, she paused the cart by the milk, looked up, and saw her mother standing with a small basket in her hand, studying the orange juice.

“Mom!” Cara said, before she could think through that she’d been avoiding her.

Natalie Hartley glanced up. “Cara!” She strode over and hugged Cara, her pleasure in seeing her daughter obvious.

Despite Cara’s frustrations with how her mother chose to live her life, Cara adored her and missed her like crazy. She tried hard not to let herself think too hard about how much—or she ended up sad and melancholy. The holidays
were especially hard. Cara often ended up at the Marsdens’ or with Alexa and her dad, instead of being with her own parents.

“How are you?” Cara asked, inhaling the floral, fragrant scent she associated with the better parts of her childhood.

“Fine.” Her mother’s gaze darted to the left and right before focusing on Cara. “What about you? Are you well? Happy?”

Cara swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Her mother couldn’t even go to the grocery store by herself. She was surprised he’d left her alone in an aisle. “He went to pick up soda we forgot. Talk to me quick, before he comes back. Are you well, honey?”

Cara nodded. “I’m good.”

“My baby, a police officer. I’m so proud,” her mother said, tucking Cara’s hair behind one ear.

She blushed. “Mom.” Cara shook her head. “I—”

“Nat, let’s go now!” Cara’s father’s voice interrupted her midsentence.

She’d been about to tell her mother she missed her.

“I have to go.” Natalie’s shoulders had slumped, and she didn’t look Cara in the eye. “I love you.”

“Tell him one minute. We’re just talking.” Cara heard the plea in her voice.

“Baby, move it. It’s time to make lunch,” her father ordered.

Cara looked over at Greg Hartley. Still handsome; his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back off his face, his eyes burned with anger as he looked between Cara and her mother, who’d already taken a step away from her daughter.

It wasn’t difficult not to say hello to her father.

And he deliberately ignored her. He hated that she’d become a cop. He hated it even more that she refused to
acknowledge him as her parent, denying him the respect and control over her he craved.

“Nat, now.” Her mother jumped at the low bellow.

She turned her back on Cara and walked away, head down, as she curled into herself.

Cara hated him. She hated how her mother gave in to whatever he wanted without care to her own needs. If cutting herself off from her parents was the only way to avoid seeing this painful sight, she’d continue to do it. No matter how big a hole her mother’s absence left in her chest or how much the fear for her safety ate away at her. Her mother had made it clear she didn’t want Cara’s help. There was nothing else she could do.

Except help those who wanted it, Cara thought. Stuffing the pain down where it belonged, Cara finished up her shopping, took the groceries home, and did cleaning around the house.

On Friday, she’d spent more time at the shelter than she’d planned because Daniella was obviously depressed after discovering that she’d need continuing education courses to update her paralegal license. The timing would take a while for her to get up to speed and capable of being rehired. That meant more time at Havensbridge, and the young woman was lonely, talking about alternatives like going home. As in back to her ex. Cara was nervous and spoke at length to Belinda about keeping Daniella busy and talking, to prevent her from leaving.

Though Cara could relate to many of the women who came and went from the shelter, Daniella and her sad blue eyes reminded Cara of her mother’s. The run-in was still fresh, causing her to miss her mom even more.

By the time Saturday afternoon came, she’d managed to shake off the depression and allow her excitement about her date with Mike to come through. She spent the morning at Consign and Design in town and bought a new April Mancini original skirt at a very reasonable price. The leopard
print was gorgeous and the short length showed off her legs, which were normally hidden under a uniform or blue jeans; she added her favorite black patent boots, along with a silk black camisole and a cream-colored blazer.

One last look in the mirror and she was ready to go. Ready to see Mike.

The doorbell rang and, with a last bout of nerves in her stomach, she headed for the door and let him in.

“Hi.” She greeted him with warmth, stepping back to admire the view.

Wearing dark denim jeans and a black button-down shirt and not a speck of razor stubble, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He smelled delicious too.

“Hey.” He didn’t crack a smile as he stepped inside. His expression looked dark and forbidding, and a sudden chill skittered over her skin. One that had nothing to do with the brief blast of cold air from outside.

“Ready?” he asked.

“I just have to get my purse and jacket.”

He shoved his hands into his front pockets and waited without making small talk and without looking at her at all.

She swallowed hard. His greeting was nothing like she’d expected. Okay, so he wasn’t admiring the view as she’d done with him. She told herself that was fine, even as disappointment welled inside her.

But his closed expression put her off and unnerved her even more. He looked nothing like the man who’d dropped her off yesterday afternoon with a blistering kiss and a promise to stay the night.

“Umm…is everything okay?” she asked as she picked up her small bag from the couch.

“Any reason it wouldn’t be?” he asked in an ice-cold voice.

Her discomfort turned to alarm. “You tell me.”

He glanced at his watch. “We’re going to be late,” he said, without answering her question.

“And I don’t give a damn.” Cara wasn’t going anywhere with Mike in this mood. She tossed her bag back onto the sofa. “Talk.”

He turned to face her, his eyes and expression glacial. “I went to see my mother today.”

Uh-oh. “What did she say?”

Disappointment flashed across his handsome face. “Are you really going to play this game? You know exactly what she said. That she’s been in touch with my father on Facebook and
you knew
.” He spat the words like an accusation.

Cara’s stomach twisted in tight knots, but she straightened her shoulders, standing by what she had—or hadn’t—done. “It wasn’t my place to tell you.” She’d felt angst about it, felt guilty, but in the end, there was only one choice she could make, and she remained silent.

He shook his head back and forth slowly. “I talked to you about my father. I don’t talk to anyone about him, including my family.” His eyes blazed with anger and betrayal, causing her heart to pound harder in her chest.

“I know.” And Cara had valued every ounce of information he’d given her, no matter how small. “And I appreciate that you let me in.” She stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he stepped out of reach.

She did her best not to shiver at the rejection. “I begged your mother to tell you, but she didn’t want to upset you. She insisted, and I gave my word.”

“That’s it?” He glared at her, not giving an inch. “You saw me after the judge’s house. You knew how conflicted I was. And all you can say is you gave your word?”