One Day to Find a Husband

by Shirley Jump

  She laughed, and that told him that there was no doubt she’d been acting earlier. Finn told himself he was glad. “Well, I’m glad it worked. Anyway, I guess I’ll see you back here in a little while.”

  “Wait. Do you have lunch plans?” he asked, then wondered what he was doing. Was he asking her on a date—a date with his wife—or a simple lunch meeting to discuss the project? He told himself it was just because people would expect them to eat together. He was keeping up the facade, nothing more.

  “I have one of those frozen dinners in the office refrigerator.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “I usually eat at my desk.”

  “So do I.” Outside the sun shone bright and hazy, a warm day with the promising scent of spring in the air. Inside, all they had was climate controlled air and a sterile office environment. The same kind of place where he spent five, sometimes six, days a week. He thought of the calls waiting to be returned, the emails waiting to be answered, the projects waiting to be completed. Then he looked at Ellie, and wanted only a few minutes with her, just long enough to hear her laugh again, see her smile. Then he’d be ready to go back to the To Do lists and other people’s expectations. “Let’s go have lunch on the plaza. Get out of here for a while. I think both of us have spent far too many afternoons at our desks.”

  “Two days in a row, taking time off? My, my, Finn, whatever will people say?”

  Damn. He was really starting to like the way she said his name. “Oh, I think we’ve already given them plenty to talk about, don’t you?”

  She looked up at him, and a smile burst across her face. It sent a rush through Finn, and he decided that if he did nothing else, he would make Ellie smile again. And again.

  “Oh my, yes, I do believe we’ve done that in spades, Mr. McKenna.” Then her green eyes lit with a tease and she put her hand in his. “What’s a little more?”

  * * *

  As time ticked by and the afternoon sun made a slow march across the sky, Ellie was less and less able to concentrate on her sandwich or anything Finn was saying. On her way into work that morning, Ellie had called Linda and left her a message telling her that she had gotten married, and now the wait for Linda’s return call seemed agonizing. Thank God for the meeting, which had taken her mind off the wait, and for Finn, who had convinced her to leave the office and get some fresh air. Still, she had checked her cell at least a dozen times.

  Finn had taken two calls, and she’d been impressed with the way he handled business. Efficiently, with barely a wasted word. He argued with a contractor who wanted to make a change that Finn felt would compromise the building’s structure, and negotiated a lower price on materials for another project.

  “I can see where you got the nickname,” Ellie said when Finn hung up. “You’re relentless.”

  “I just like to get the job done.”

  “Yeah, but negotiating a discount, while at the same time moving up the deadline, I’d say you pulled off a miracle.”

  “Just doing my job.” He seemed embarrassed by her attention.

  “You do it well. Does that come from being the oldest?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I never thought about that. Maybe it does.”

  “Well, it seems to be working for you.” She felt her phone buzz and checked the screen, then tucked it away.

  “Waiting on a call yourself?”

  She nodded. “From the agency. I told my adoption coordinator that we got married. I’m just waiting to hear back.”

  He unwrapped the sandwich they had bought from a street vendor, but didn’t take a bite. “How are you planning on doing this?”

  “Doing what? The interview? It should be relatively straightforward.”

  “No, not that. This whole—” he made a circle with the sandwich “—raising a child alone thing.”

  “People do it every day.”

  “Not people who also happen to be CEOs of busy, growing companies.”

  “True.” She glanced at the park across the street. It bustled with activity. Children ran to and fro, filling the small park with the sound of laughter. Dogs chased Frisbees and couples picnicked on the grass. “I’m sure it’s going to be hard.” That was an understatement. She’d worried constantly that she wouldn’t be able to juggle it all. “But I’ll figure it out somehow.”

  “Would it have been better if you had waited to marry someone who could…well, create a real family with you?” Finn asked.

  Ellie watched a family of three pass by them, mother and father on either side of a toddler, who held both his parent’s hands and danced between them. “Maybe. But honestly, I never intended to get married.”

  “Ever?”

  “I guess I was always afraid to get married,” Ellie said softly.

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “Of being a disappointment and of getting my children caught in an endless limbo of…dissatisfaction.” Ellie sighed. “I looked at my parents, and they were more roommates than spouses. They came and went on their own schedules, and we very rarely did anything as a family. I guess I never felt like I knew how to do it better.”

  “I think a lot of people feel that way,” Finn said after a moment.

  “Do you?”

  He let out a short laugh. “When did this become about me?”

  “I’m just curious. You seem the kind of man who would want to settle down. Complete that life list or whatever.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not.” He got to his feet and tossed the remains of his sandwich in the trash.

  He had shut the door between them. She had opened herself to him, and he had refused to do the same. The distance stung.

  Ellie glanced at the family across the park. They had stopped walking and were sitting on the grass, sharing a package of cookies. The mother teased the son with a cookie that she placed in his palm, then yanked back, making him giggle. Over and over again they played that game, and the little boy’s laughter rang like church bells.

  A bone-deep ache ran through her. Deep down inside, yes, she did want that, did crave those moments, that togetherness. She’d always thought she didn’t, but she’d been lying to herself.

  She watched Finn return to the bench and realized she wasn’t going to find that fairy tale with the Hawk. He was going about their marriage like he did any other business deal—with no emotion and no personal ties.

  It was what she had wanted. But now that she had it, victory tasted stale.

  Because a part of her had already started to get very, very used to him being her husband.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AN HOUR on the treadmill. A half hour with the weight machines. And a hell of a sweat.

  But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much time Finn spent in the gym, tension still knotted his shoulders, frustration still held tight to his chest. He’d been unable to forget Ellie—or bring himself to go home to her.

  Home. To his wife.

  Already he was getting far too wrapped up in her, he’d realized. They’d had that conversation at lunch about marriage, and he had found himself wanting to tell her that he felt the same way. That he had never imagined himself getting married, either.

  Then he had come to his senses before he laid his heart bare again, and made the same mistakes he’d made before. He’d watched his parents locked in an emotional roller coaster of love and hate, then repeated those mistakes at the end of his relationship with Lucy. No way was he going to risk that again with Ellie. She saw him as a means to an end—a father on paper for her child—and nothing more.

  He pulled on the lat bar, leaning back slightly on the padded bench, hauling the weights down. His shoulders protested, his biceps screamed, but Finn did another rep. Another. Over and over, he tugged the heavy weight down.

  It wasn’t just the distraction of getting close to E
llie that had him sweating it out in the gym. It was the growing reality of the child she was about to adopt.

  No, that they were about to adopt. He’d promised Ellie that he would go along with her plan, but now he was wondering if that was the right thing to do.

  How could he be a temporary husband, temporary dad, and then, at the end of the hospital project, just pack up his things and go? If anyone knew firsthand what losing a parent suddenly could do to a child, it was Finn. He’d gone through it himself, and watched the impact on his younger brothers. They’d been cast adrift, emotional wrecks who took years to heal, even with the loving arms of their grandparents. How could he knowingly do that to a child?

  He gave the lat bar another pull, his muscles groaning in protest, then lowered the weight back to the base. He was finished with his workout, but no closer to any of the answers he needed.

  He showered, got dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, then hailed a cab and headed across town toward Ellie’s townhouse. Night had begun to fall, draping purple light over the city of Boston. It was beautiful, the kind of clear, slightly warm night that would be perfect for a walk. Except Finn never took time to do that. He wondered for a moment what his life would be like if he was the kind of man who did.

  If he was the kind of man who had a real marriage, and spent his life with someone who wanted to stroll down the city streets as dusk was falling and appreciate the twinkling magic. But he wasn’t. And he was foolish to believe in a fantasy life. His mother had been like that—full of romantic notions that burned out when she saw the reality of her unhappy marriage. Finn was going to be clearheaded about his relationships. No banking on superfluous things like starry skies and red roses.

  He paid the cabbie, then headed up the stairs to Ellie’s building. He paused at the door and caught her name on the intercom box. Ellie Winston.

  His wife.

  Already, he knew they had a connection. It wasn’t friendship, but something more, something indefinable. A hundred times during the meeting today, he found his mind wandering, his gaze drifting to her. He wondered a hundred things about her—what her favorite color was, if she preferred spring or fall, if she slept on the left side of the bed or the right. Even as he told himself to pull back, to not get any deeper connected to this woman than he already was. This was a business arrangement.

  Nothing more.

  As he headed inside, he marveled again at the building she had chosen—the complete opposite to the modern glass high-rise that housed his apartment. Ellie lived in one of Boston’s many converted brownstones. Ellie’s building sported a neat brick facade and window boxes filled with pansies doing a tentative wave to spring adorned every window. The building’s lobby featured a white tile floor and thick, dark woodwork. The staircase was flanked by a curved banister on one side, a white plaster wall on the other. A bank of mailboxes were stationed against one wall, lit from above by a black wrought-iron light fixture that looked older than Finn’s grandmother, but had a certain Old World charm.

  He liked this place. A lot. It had a…homey feeling. At the same time, he cautioned himself not to get too comfortable. They weren’t making this a permanent thing, and letting himself feel at home would be a mistake. He’d get used to it, and begin to believe this was something that it wasn’t. He’d fooled himself like that once before.

  Never again.

  He found Ellie in the kitchen again, rinsing some dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. “Hi.”

  Kind of a lame opening but what did one say to a wife who wasn’t a real wife?

  She turned around. “Hi yourself. I’m sorry, I ate without you. I wasn’t sure what your plan…” She put up her hands. “Well, you certainly don’t have to answer to me. It’s not like we’re really married or anything.”

  There. The truth of it.

  “I grabbed a bite to eat after the gym.” He dropped his gym bag on the floor, then hung his dry cleaning over the chair. “Did you find out when the interview would be?”

  “In a couple days. Linda’s trying to coordinate all the schedules.”

  “Okay. Good.” The sooner the interview was over, the sooner they could go their separate ways. And that was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

  “After this morning, I think we should work on our story,” she said. “You know, in case they ask us a lot of questions. I don’t want it to seem like…”

  “We barely know each other.”

  She nodded. “Yes.” She gestured toward a door at the back. “We can sit on the balcony out back if you want. It’s not a rooftop terrace, but we’ll be able to enjoy the evening a little.”

  They got drinks—red wine for him, iced tea for her—and Ellie assembled a little platter of cheese and crackers. Finn would have never thought of a snack, or if he had, it probably would have been something salty, served straight from the bag. But Ellie laid everything out on a long red platter, and even included napkins. The night air drifted over them, lazy and warm. “You thought of everything,”

  She shrugged. “Nothing special. And it’s not quite the evening you planned.”

  “No, it’s not.” He picked up a cracker and a piece of cheese, and devoured them in one bite. “It’s better.”

  She laughed. “How is that? There’s no musicians, no twinkling lights, no five-course meal. It’s just crackers and cheese on the balcony.”

  “Done by you. Not by others. I don’t have that homemaking touch. At all.”

  “I’m not exactly Betty Crocker myself. But I can assemble a hell of a crudités platter.” She laughed again. “So I take it you can’t cook?”

  “Not so much as a scrambled egg. But I can order takeout like a pro. My grandmother is the real chef in the family. She doesn’t cook much now, but when I was a kid, she did everything from scratch.”

  Ellie picked up her glass and took a sip of tea. “Where are you parents? Do they live in Boston?”

  The question was an easy one, the kind people asked each other all the time. But for some reason, this time, it hit Finn hard and he had to take a minute to compose the answer.

  “No. They don’t. Not anymore.” Finn was quiet for a moment. “My parents…died in a car accident, when I was eleven. Brody was eight, Riley was just six.”

  “Oh, Finn, I’m so sorry.” She reached for him, and laid a soft hand on top of his arm. It was a simple, comforting touch, but it seemed to warm Finn to his core. He wanted to lean into that touch, to let it warm the icy spots in his heart.

  But he didn’t.

  “We went and lived with my grandparents,” he continued. “I think us three boys drove my grandmother nuts with all our noise and fighting.”

  “I bet you three were a handful.”

  He chuckled. “She called us a basketful of trouble, but she loved us. My grandmother was a stern, strict parent, but one who would surprise us at the oddest times with a new toy or a bunch of cookies.”

  Ellie smiled. “She sounds wonderful.”

  “She is. I think every kid needs a grandmother like that. One time, Brody and I were arguing over a toy. I can’t remember what toy it was or why. So my grandmother made us rake two ends of the yard, working toward each other. By the time we met in the middle, we had this massive pile of leaves. So we jumped in them. And the fight was forgotten.”

  Ellie laughed. “Sounds like you learned some of your art of compromise from her.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did. She taught me a lot.” He hadn’t shared that much of his personal life with anyone in a long, long time. Even Lucy hadn’t known much about him. They’d mainly talked about work when they were together.

  Was that because she didn’t care, or because it was easier? Or was it because Finn had always reserved a corner of himself from Lucy, with some instinctual self-preservation because he knew there was something amiss in their relationship? />
  Was Ellie’s interest real, or was she just gathering facts for the interview? And why did he care? On his way here from the gym, he had vowed to keep this impersonal, business only. Why did he keep treading into personal waters? He knew better, damn it.

  “I think every person needs someone like your grandmother in their lives,” Ellie said softly.

  “Yeah,” he said. “They do.”

  Damn, it was getting warm out here. He glanced over at Ellie to find her watching him. She opened her mouth, as if she was going to ask another question, to get him to open up more, but he cut her off by reaching into his pocket for a sheet of paper. He handed it to her. “I, uh, thought you’d want to know some things about me for the interview. So I wrote them down.”

  She read over the sheet. “Shoe size. Suit jacket size. Car model.” Then she looked up at him. “This doesn’t tell me anything about you, except maybe what to get you for Christmas.”

  “That’s all the particulars you would need right there.”

  She dropped the sheet of paper onto a nearby table, then drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She’d changed into sweatpants and a soft pink T-shirt after work, and she looked as comfortable as a pile of pillows. “What a wife should know about a husband isn’t on that list, Finn.”

  “Well, of course it is. A wife would know my shoe size and my car—”

  “No, no. A wife would know your heart. She’d know what made you who you are. What your dreams are, your fears, your pet peeves. She’d be able to answer any question about you because she knows you as well as she knows herself.”

  He shifted in his chair. The cracker felt heavy in his stomach. “No one knows me like that.”

  “Why?”

  It was such a simple question, just one word, but that didn’t mean Finn had an answer. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, surely the woman you were engaged to got to know you like that. Like the story about your grandmother. That’s what I want to hear more of. Or tell me about your fiancée. Why did you two not work out?”