Summer Kisses (300 page)

“Thank you,” Emma parroted sweetly as she secured the seatbelt and dug into her bag for her ride home wheat thins. Lou had long since given up on having a spotless car, but she drew the line at anything sticky or gooey. “No more space pirates?”

Lou climbed in the front and put the car into gear, grimacing when she saw the time on the dashboard clock. They might just barely make it to TJ’s school in time but she was going to be at the back of the carpool line. “Space pirates and other games with lasers and guns are going to be at home only from now on.”
Because Miss Amber is a play dictator
.

“Can we bake muffins tonight?”

Lou had to appreciate the attention span of a four-year-old. “Not tonight, kiddo. The oven’s still on the fritz, remember?” A casualty of the last time the kids had played
Mythbusters
with an aerosol can duct taped to the oven rack.

Maybe Miss Amber had a point with her More Rules approach.

“But Aunt Lou! It’s my snack day tomorrow! I can’t bring
store
muffins!”

Lou tightened her hands around the steering wheel and decided, right there in the mile-long turning lane into TJ’s elementary school, that she hated Emma’s preschool with the fire of a thousand suns.

Each of the kids at the school was assigned a snack day once a month when their parents had the
privilege
of providing the afternoon snack for the entire class. Sweet, non-competitive Emma had never cared about the status differential between store-bought muffins and home-made until she started going to that supposedly excellent and progressive preschool. Now she was ready to throw a tantrum because her snack day would be marred by food that came wrapped in plastic.

“The oven’s out of commission, Em. We’ll call Daddy and have him pick up something for your snack day, but it’s gonna come from the store. That’s just the way it is.”

Emma began to sniffle loudly.

Lou and Jack were going to have a talk about that school.

Though really, what right did she have to even bring it up? That question had been taunting her ever since her lunch with Miranda. What was she doing here? Going through the motions of being the mom with none of the actual rights of one. Playing pretend. Only it wasn’t space pirates. It was wife and mother, and she’d bought into her own game. Bought into the lie she sold on Facebook with each careful omission.

When the Focus slowly crept to the front of the line, TJ’s teacher waved and called out, “Hi, Mrs. Doyle!” releasing him to run over and climb in the back beside Emma.

Mrs. Doyle. Again Lou didn’t bother to correct the misnomer. Why? Because it was easier to just let them call her Mrs. Doyle than to clarify that she was actually Ms. Tanner? The kids both called her Aunt Lou, but there were so many blended families these days she knew the teachers assumed she was a step-mom. And she let them think that. Why?

Because she liked being called Mrs. Doyle? Because she liked believing her own lie?

Facebook illusions of that perfect happy nuclear family and letting people in the neighborhood and at the kids’ schools call her Mrs. Doyle… How much of her life had become a game of pretend? Letting people believe she was the mommy. Letting people believe she was the wife.

Letting herself believe it.

When exactly had she started buying her own B.S?

As Lou drove home, TJ grunted his usual monosyllabic response to her questions about how school was, and dove into his own bag for his ride home snack—both children acting like they’d been starved the entire time they were away from her. Emma’s preschool was only half-day, but she knew half of TJ’s lunch would still be inside his bag and he would devour it as soon as they got home. A new wife wouldn’t know that about him. She’d have to learn all the routines, all the rhythms of the Doyle household.

Would Lou be expected to teach her?

Not that there was likely to be a her. Jack wasn’t any more interested in dating than she was. He’d tried Match.com once, at the urging of some of his female coworkers, but it hadn’t lasted long. He’d come home from the dates early, not wanting to miss bedtime, and then stay up to talk with Lou about how awkward the dinners had been.

And she would be secretly glad he hadn’t been able to leave those women fast enough to come home to her and the kids.

There was probably a picture of the two of them beside codependent in the dictionary.

When they got to the house, the kids plowed inside like a tsunami, leaving jackets, shoes and bags in their wake until she called after them to hang everything up properly—a reminder they seemed to require every single day, unless they wanted something. Would a new mommy know that perfectly hung jackets without badgering were a harbinger of a request for pizza for dinner or to go see the new Pixar movie?

TJ was still devouring his PB&J at the kitchen table—they couldn’t have been home more than five minutes—when a knock came at the kitchen door.

Lou yanked open the door and smiled at the curvy brunette hovering on the back porch. “Hey.”

Kelly’s backyard was kitty-corner to theirs, with a worn strip of grass where members of both families regularly tromped between. Her twin boys were only six months younger than TJ, and all of the kids played well together. Kelly had saved Lou’s sanity more than once with well-timed play dates. Now she barreled in, twins in tow, her eyes glittering with the light of fresh gossip.

“Omigosh, Lou. Please tell me you know who it is. I’m dying of curiosity and you have the inside scoop!”

The children immediately formed a noisy knot and bolted out the still open kitchen door into the yard, TJ leaving the debris of his lunch on the table. Lou kicked out a chair at the table for Kelly, glancing at the seat before settling into her own, glad she’d remembered to clean the mashed Cheerios off it after breakfast.

“What’s this gossip you want and why do you think I already know it?” she asked, absently packing away TJ’s leftovers, one eye on the kids in the backyard.

“It’s all over the news. That astronaut who was supposed to be the next Mister Perfect? He was caught doing blow and drag racing through a school zone or some crazy shit and now the Mister Perfect blogs are going nuts wondering who the new Mister Perfect is going to be, and who do I know who’s having lunch with a real live Mister Perfect producer this very afternoon? Why, Louisa Tanner, of course. So dish, girl! Who’s it going to be? Is it that dog Javier?”

“I have no idea—and before you go trying to pump me for more intel, I don’t think Miranda knows yet either.”

“Well, crap,” Kelly grumbled. “And here I’ve been bragging about my inside source all day.”

Lou shook her head with mock sympathy. “Pride goeth before a fall.”

“Oh, don’t look so smug. Like you’ve never exaggerated online.”

That one hit a little too close to home, considering all the pretend Mrs. Doyle
-
ing she’d been doing lately. “Wanna hear something crazy? Miranda is actually going to try to convince Jack to do it. Be Mister Perfect.”

“You’re kidding. God, he’d be fabulous. Can you imagine?”

Unfortunately, she could imagine. All too easily.

Luckily, he’d never agree to it. Not in a million years.

But maybe he should
.

Kelly frowned. “You okay? You look a little queasy.”

Lou made a face and picked the safest topic. “I’m worried Emma’s preschool is going to turn her into a Forrest Park Stepford Yuppie Child. But it’s such a good school. How do I know I’m making the right choice by leaving her there?”

“Oh, honey. You never know. We’re all just stumbling around in the dark. Welcome to parenting.”

“But I’m not a parent.” And there it was. The real problem.

“Who said that?” Kelly’s spine went stiff with indignation. “Did Jack say—?”

“No. He wouldn’t. It’s just…” She glanced out the window, checking to make sure the kids were still on the other side of the yard.

She liked this. Liked managing Emma and TJ’s periodic attempts to recreate
Mythbusters
episodes. Liked being the pseudo-mommy and pseudo-wife.

But that didn’t make it real.

“What happens if Jack falls in love tomorrow? What happens to me then? My whole life, just
poof
goes away and I don’t even have a right to say anything about it.”

“Lou.” Kelly gazed at her, wide-eyed, and the smoke-detector beeped, warning of a failing battery.

Lou glared at it. “That’s just what I need.”

“You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you?” Kelly asked.

“No, of course not. But… maybe Jack and I rely on one another a little too much, you know? Maybe this isn’t the best thing for us. In the long run.” She looked around the tiny kitchen she hated. They were planning a remodel. Both of them treating the kitchen as theirs rather than his in an act of collective denial. But who knew how long that would last? Would he wake up some day and remember that she didn’t really have a right to be here? “I guess I just wonder if we’re helping one another stay stuck here when we should be… I don’t know. Doing whatever normal single dads and single women do.”

“Like go on
Marrying Mister Perfect
.”

“Not necessarily that extreme.” But maybe it wasn’t the worst idea in the world. At least then she wouldn’t have to watch him falling in love with her replacement right in front of her. It would all happen far away and be presented to her as a done deal. And she’d have the entire time he was gone to get used to the idea.

If he wanted to go.

And if he wanted to take such drastic measures to leave her, that would say something in itself.

The smoke detector beeped, like a shrill countdown timer on the life she’d built.

“Miranda came to see me today.”

He’d waited to bring it up until the kids were in bed and he was up on a step-ladder in the kitchen, replacing the smoke detector battery. Lou gazed up at his ass—it was right there at eye-level, how could she avoid it?—and covertly wiped the drool at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, she told me she was going to.”

He looked down and she busied herself unwrapping the packaging on the new battery so he wouldn’t catch her gawking at his ass. “So you know what she asked me.”

“True love on national television?”

He made a face. “Is there such a thing?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There have been one or two success stories. I think it has more to do with how you go into it than the show itself. If you’re a genuine grounded guy who isn’t going to get swept away thinking with your penis, you might actually find the girl of your dreams.”

“Miranda said something about how ten of them are there for ratings, but twenty would be there for me.” He plucked the battery off her palm, his fingertips brushing her skin, though of course he didn’t notice, and turned his attention back to the smoke detector. “It sounds like it’s insanely competitive to get on these things. And the women are all going to be adventurous, or they wouldn’t audition to be on the show.”

“And drop-dead gorgeous.”

Jack grinned down at her. “That doesn’t hurt.”

There was something behind that smile, some tinge of excitement that made her stomach clench. Did he actually want to go? “So you’re considering it?”

“No. Of course not.” He put in the new battery and fitted the cover back in place. “But you never know how you’re going to meet the people who change your life. Hell, Gillian was a blind date. Just because it’s a set-up for the entertainment of millions doesn’t mean it couldn’t have a nice side effect. And the experience would be wild.”

He said no, but he really was considering it, talking himself into it. She’d never imagined he might actually
want
to do it.

“But eight weeks away from the kids? No way. Even if we did arrange extra visits and lots of phone calls, it would be too hard on them. Not to mention you.” He climbed down the step ladder. “Unless you wanted me to do it.”

“If
I
wanted you to?”

“You’re here, taking care of my family when you could be living your own life.”

This
is
my life
.

“If I did this, Lou, it would be for you.”

“For me,” she echoed softly. He didn’t see it. He’d never seen it. And now… “Jack, are you unhappy?”

“Are you?” he countered.

She looked away. “I didn’t think I was unhappy before today. Now I honestly don’t know how I feel.”

“Lou.” He tipped her chin up, coaxing her to meet his eyes. “Whether I go or not, we can’t keep going on as we are. It isn’t fair to anyone. Especially not to you. I hijacked your life four years ago and it’s past time I gave it back. Maybe something drastic is a good idea. Neither of us seem to be very good at dating. But if this isn’t how you want it to happen, just say the word and I won’t even consider it.”

Lou stared into those unfairly blue eyes. He was so close. Kissably close. If she went up on her toes and he dipped his head just a bit, their lips would touch. Her breath caught and tangled in her throat. Her eyes flicked down to his lips—lips she only thought about kissing one or two million times a day—then back up to his eyes.

He was always so intent. So focused. In that moment, she was the single most important thing in his life. If she said the word, he would stay with her. He would walk away from the chance to meet the woman of his dreams, hand-picked by Hollywood’s finest.

Everything she’d ever wanted was just a breath away. Just one kiss would change everything…

But he wasn’t looking at her like he wanted to kiss her. Jack was looking at her as if the thought of kissing her had never once crossed his mind. And it probably hadn’t. He just didn’t think of her that way. He’d never offered her anything other than friendship.

Affection? Undeniably. Wild, unbridled lust? Only in her dreams.

He stood so close, and yet in a way he was more distant from her than he’d ever been.

He didn’t want her. He never would. And eventually that knowledge would carve a hole in her soul that would be filled up with bitterness and regret. She was clinging to a man who would never love her back, so desperate to hold on to the illusion of their perfect domestic life that it never even occurred to her that it might need to change.