by Lily Kate
“Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you twice, Jack.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes, why?”
“No reason,” she says loftily, but I know better.
If nothing else, my mother is logical. So, I wait for her to carry on and get to the point.
“It’s nice to hear from you too, Jack,” she says with a snip. “Did your friend tell you she came to tea the other day?”
“You know Allie’s name. Use it. She’s a family friend, not some girl I met a few weeks back.”
“Well, she gave me some interesting news.”
I lean back on my couch and scan the view of Los Angeles from my window. Once upon a time, I’d thought I had it all—the job, the view, the cash. Now, the view is smoggy, the cash is cold, and the job...well, the job’s good, but that’s about it. “What sort of news?”
“Well, it’s a funny story, actually. She seems to think she’s capable of helping you find a companion.”
“What’s funny about it?”
A sharp intake of breath answers for her. “Are you saying it’s true?”
“I’m not denying it.”
“What does that mean, Jack? Why did you go to her for help?”
“She knows me better than anyone.”
“I’m your own mother.”
“And Allie knows me better than anyone. We grew up together; we’re friends.”
“She’s...” My mother lets the phrase drip there, and I let her search for words.
It pains her to be mean outright. She pretends that she’s not judgmental, and when she says horrible things aloud, it only proves her wrong. So, I do nothing to help her out of the hole.
“You know,” she finishes. “It’s Allie.”
The way she says Allie raises my hackles. “Exactly. It’s Allie. What’s your problem with her, anyway? She comes from good parents. Isn’t that what matters to you?”
“I have no problem with Allie. I have a problem with you and her as friends.”
“You always have, and I’ve never understood why. She’s smart, she’s driven, she’s intelligent—”
“She’s a schoolteacher for babies! Jack, you’re a Darcy. You’re a renowned surgeon, and she...” My mother pauses, once again on the precipice of judgment. “You need someone who challenges you.”
“She does challenge me. She’s smarter than me. Funnier, too. Better looking. Shall I continue?”
“Why are you so adamant about defending her? I’m not saying you shouldn’t remain pleasant acquaintances, but aren’t you at the point in your life where you are looking for more? Someone who can cook you dinner instead of buying salt-laden, horrific Chinese food?”
I close my eyes, my fingers pressing against the bridge of my nose as I struggle not to explode. I have lashed out at her before, and it does no good. My mother doesn’t react with her emotions. She hardly reacts to logic.
She has one set of beliefs—her own—and never wavers from them. My choices are to cut her off completely from my life, or to agree to disagree and accept her as is. For now, I’ve chosen to disagree quietly in hopes she’ll come around. I’ve yet to be surprised by her, which is unfortunate.
“Forget about it, mother. My love life doesn’t concern you.”
“As a matter of fact, it does.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve arranged something I imagine you’ll be quite pleased about.”
“I can’t imagine that’s true.”
“I’ve included Allie.”
My heart bumps just a bit stronger against my chest. “What have you done?”
“I’ve arranged a double date for the pair of you. Saturday evening at West Regency.”
“No.”
“You haven’t heard me out.”
“I don’t need to; I’m not interested. You’re not pairing me off with someone from the club.”
“If not for me, then do it for Allie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After Allie stormed out of high tea the other day, I got to talking with her parents.”
“Imagine that. Since you went to lunch together.”
“Tea. As it turns out, Franklin—”
“Frank.”
“Franklin has a colleague with a son around your age. They’d chatted about setting up a meeting between Allie and this son. But you know Allie—she’d never go for it.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m turning you down, too. She’d never go for it.”
“I expected you to be less selfish where she’s concerned.”
“Less selfish? I’m watching out for her. She’d hate going on a blind date.”
“Then how do you think she’s going to find someone?”
“Plenty of ways. How does anyone find someone?”
“I imagine you don’t know, or else you’d have done it yourself,” my mother snaps. “Why don’t you take the advice from someone who’ll be married thirty-six years next week? Your father and I have a successful marriage. I think I know what I’m talking about.”
“Not everyone is like you. For some people, life’s not about finding a mate and settling down.”
“You honestly don’t think Allie would like to find a nice man and settle down? She clearly loves children, otherwise she would’ve picked a different job.”
“Career,” I correct automatically.
My mother waits for me to explain further, but when I don’t, she presses onward. “Think about it, Jack. You owe it to your friend—if that’s what she is—to be supportive.”
“I am being supportive. I’m supporting her right to choose.”
“She can choose to turn down a second date, but it sounds like you’re choosing to prevent her from getting the first.” In the background, my mother clicks around, probably preparing her evening cup of chamomile tea. “To an outsider, it almost sounds as if you’re trying to sabotage her happiness.”
“How could I possibly be sabotaging that?”
“You’re a smart man, Jack. Ask yourself: do you want to see your Allie happily married with a family, or are you afraid she’ll leave you behind when she meets someone?”
I pick up the book from the couch next to me and slam it against the cushions. I thought it’d be softer. The thump is loud and obvious, however, and with the plunk of a sugar cube into hot water, I can almost hear my mother smiling in triumph through the phone line.
“Think about it, Jack. Your father’s arranged for a very nice young woman to go along with you, too. A double date. It might be fun!”
I hang up the phone in a pissy mood. My mother doesn’t care about fun; I’m not sure she’s ever truly had fun. At least, not the sort of fun that Allie and I have together. I lean back, close my eyes, and a picture of Allie laughing and smiling and spinning around at last year’s outdoor concert series spirals into view. It’s followed by the picture of her cheeky grin as she swipes samples from the local farmers market once a week.
When Allie has fun, she has fun. No holds barred, out of control, wild sorts of fun. I don’t know that I am the best person to make her laugh; I’ve been told I’m too serious, too quiet, too studious. But I do know one thing for a fact: Allie Jenkins will not have fun on this sort of date.
Allie: Where’d you go? Dare I ask if you’re still reading?
Jack: My mother called.
Allie: I’m sorry?
Jack: That’s about right. She’s trying to set us up on a blind date.
Allie: You and me?!
Jack: Double date. They’ve apparently got a nice girl picked out for me, and a handsome stud they think you’ll love.
Allie: Gag.
Jack: Exactly.
Allie: I think we should go.
I start to type out a text. More like a series of expletives, and it’s after I’ve deleted the third message when I realize this just isn’t happening over a message. I delete my latest attempt to sp
ell things out and hit the number one speed dial on my phone.
When she picks up, my heart begins to race. “Allie?”
Chapter 15
ALLIE
“What’s the problem?” Allie asks. “Afraid of a little date?”
“I don’t understand why you’d agree. Normally, you’d rather poke your eyes out with a spoon than go on a blind date.”
“Normally, yes. But it sounds interesting.”
“Our parents have picked our dates.”
“Well, then, let me decide for myself if I like them.”
“Since when are you interested in dating?”
“I’m not,” I hedge, though I’m not sure this is entirely true. “I’m more interested in using this as a teaching experience.”
“You don’t have to do this for me.”
“Come on! During your dinner with cat woman, I had to sit by myself at a table and listen creepily. This time, I’ll be front and center and better able to give you advice and help.”
“Fine. I don’t want to go.”
“We’re going.”
The truth is, my dad called me this afternoon and asked if I’d be up for a double date. Both as a favor to him and to Jack. Because I owed my dad one from the other day, I couldn’t turn him down.
Apparently, Kathleen Darcy thought she’d found a woman who could truly be the one for her son. It makes me both equally curious and nervous to think about what sort of person this woman will be, and selfishly, I’m too curious to say no to a proposition like this.
In return, my father picked out a nice kid that I vaguely know from my parents’ Christmas cocktail parties. I have as much attraction to him as a popsicle stick, but again, this one’s not about me. For the sake of science, I need to get Jack to go.
“I want to go. I’m excited to go, Jack,” I tell him, and there’s a tiny kernel of truth to it. “Let’s just see what happens. Tell your mom I’m up for it. Unless, of course, you’re backing down.”
“I already said no.”
“Your mom doesn’t take no for an answer. Next time she calls, tell her we’ll be there. When is it?”
“Saturday evening. This is going to be a disaster.”
“No, it won’t. I promise,” I say, a little gentler. “One of two things will happen. Either the woman your mom has picked out for you will be gorgeous and smart, and you’ll hit it off...or she’ll be boring and horrible and you’ll get good practice for when you meet the one.”
The second part of my statement falls flat because we both know that his mother would not pick a boring and ugly woman to be her future daughter-in-law. If Kathleen Darcy chose a woman for her son, she would certainly choose a brilliant, beautiful woman sure to charm the pants right off Jack.
I tell him this—in those exact terms.
“Nobody’s charming the pants off me,” Jack says, less than enthused. “I don’t sleep with women on the first date.”
“Since when?”
“Anymore.”
“Since when?”
“Since Mandy.”
“Mandy was nine months ago, and you slept with her on the first date. If I remember correctly, there was no second date.”
“I haven’t seen you dating anyone since Ben.”
“Saturday night,” I say through gritted teeth. “You can keep your pants on, Jack Darcy, but let the charming begin.”
Chapter 16
ALLIE
“It’s going to be a disaster.”
“Sure is with that attitude.” I point toward an open meter on Ocean Drive. “Park here.”
“Why don’t I just valet at the restaurant?”
“Stop arguing and park.”
Jack pulls over and parks his new, sleek black Audi in the spot. It’s expensive and understated, and completely Jack. He picked it up this week because, as he said, he might need it. That’s the sort of money that Jack has.
I hop out and put my credit card into the meter.
“I’ll pay,” Jack says, coming around.
“Too late,” I tell him. “Plus, you can pay for dinner. But if this were the start to a date, you can’t let the girl pay for the meter.”
“I didn’t want you to pay for the meter!” Jack growls. “I said I was going to pay.”
“You’re touchy today.” I size him up, and he looks positively menacing. “What’s eating you, Gilbert Grape?”
He merely scowls at me, which is annoying because he looks like a movie star in the process. Only Jack Darcy can look equally angry and terrifying, while still making a few select body parts tingle on any woman in the vicinity.
As we stride toward the restaurant, Jack inches a few paces ahead of me, and I’m left behind to observe several heads turning our way—most of them women, most of them staring unabashedly at Jack. A few of them are probably wondering why I’m practically jogging to keep up.
On a good day, I can’t keep pace with Jack, and I wouldn’t call this a good day. I’ve got on heels that lift me almost to Jack’s chin and a sleek black dress with spaghetti straps that extends to mid-thigh. It’s about the best I’m ever gonna look with my height and figure, and I’m pretty proud about it. But Jack seems to think I dressed like a stripper and is acting all huffy about it.
“Jack, wait!” I tell him. “Is the stick up your ass really about my dress? I’ve worn far less clothing than this and never heard a word of complaint from you. What changed your mind this time?”
“Allie...” he says, a warning note to his voice.
“You’re not my dad, last time I checked—so what do you care?!”
Jack doesn’t often lose his temper, but when he does, it comes swift and sudden. I know I’ve pushed him too far the second his hand snakes around my wrist and yanks me off the sidewalk. He catches me with both hands on my shoulders and guides me until my back is pressed against the brick wall of the nearest building.
His hands are gentle, but his eyes are on fire as his gaze meets mine. “I’ve never complained before because you were only wearing those ridiculous outfits around me,” he hisses. “Not parading around in front of some stranger.”
“I’m hardly parading around in front of some stranger! My date is a man my dad knows. We’ve met before.”
“You’ve met him before?”
“I’ve seen him at a party. It doesn’t matter; this date isn’t about me, it’s about you.”
“I didn’t want to go in the first place.”
“You’re the reason I’m here.”
Jack leans in, those eyes glittering, and stares straight through the back of my head. His gaze is so piercing I flinch underneath it, and finally, he steps back.
My chest is heaving from the closeness of him, the intensity of Jack Darcy that I so rarely get to see. When he’s around me, he’s usually as relaxed as he can be; I see him during those hours he deliberately kicks back, hides the stresses of the office, and focuses on enjoying the other parts to life.
The ferocity with which he’s breathing signals I’m not the only one affected by our all-too-close proximity. Ironically, neither of us find ourselves with much to say, based upon the ensuing silence.
After several moments of huffing and puffing, I glance down at my dress and tug it into place self-consciously.
“Do I really look so horrible?” I ask him, my voice soft. “If I look that much like a hooker, I’ll go change.”
“I never said you looked like a hooker.”
“You told me my dress is too short, the top is too low, and the straps are too thin.”
“It doesn’t mean—”
“What’s your problem, Jack?” I reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been pissed at me all night. What’d I ever do to you? If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.”
“No.”
“Well?”
He runs a hand across his forehead and gives a slight shake to his head. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s it? I’m not looking for an apology. I’m
looking for an answer. What’d I do to get under your skin this time?”
“You look beautiful,” he explodes, those brilliant eyes cutting my way. “You look incredible, and I’m pissed you wasted it on me.”
I blink and take stock for a moment. “Sorry, but what?”
“You asked what you did, and I’m telling you it was nothing—”
“No, no, I understand that part.” I do a little twirl underneath his gaze. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“Yes, Allie. Of course I do.”
“Thank you very much.” I end my twirl with an awkward pirouette-thing that has me tripping onto Jack. I land with one hand on his suit, the other on his shirt, and my fingers are stuck there. I feel a bit like Spider Woman trying to climb Jack Darcy. “Sorry about that.”
Jack stares up into the sky, the blinking stars shrouded by a layer of black and a wisp of cloud. Meanwhile, my hands remain firmly pressed to his chest, and I hate to admit it, but I’m enjoying the feel of them there.
His chest is sturdy and his shirt is soft, and the combination has me wondering what it might feel like if my hands slipped underneath his button up and landed on skin. I must end up biting my lip, but I don’t realize it until a few seconds of Jack staring unabashedly at my mouth.
Once I realize my face is pulled into a contorted grimace, I immediately blink away the stars in my eyes and force a somewhat normal smile onto my face.
“So, this outfit is okay?” I ask, smoothing my dress. “Because you look great. Perfect. Super hot. I mean, for the girl. The woman—your mom definitely picked out a woman—and she’ll appreciate you. Er—she should.”
“You think I’m...” Jack pauses with a terribly smug smirk on his face. “Super hot?”
“You think I’m beautiful,” I retort back, yanking my hands from his body. “Come on, asshole, let’s go eat. You’re buying my dinner.”
“Your date’s supposed to do that.”
“Whatever.”
I stomp ahead toward the restaurant and give the host my name. Of course, it’s not on the list because Jack’s mother made the reservation for us. And, of course, she used Jack’s name.
“Rule Number 13,” I snap. “Make your own damn reservations. Don’t let your mom do it for you.”
