The Wrong Kind of Love

by Lexi Ryan

  There’s a muffled voice and the sound of the phone moving.

  “Teagan?”

  “Veronica? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “I’m not Veronica. I’m Nicole.”

  She grunts. “I’m not falling for that bullshit again.”

  I shake my head then wince when that just makes my pounding head ache more. One issue at a time. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

  “Well, you didn’t show up to breakfast and I was worried. Your phone must be dead because it’s going straight to voicemail.”

  “I turned it off.” I didn’t want Veronica or anyone else calling. I just wanted to sleep for as long as possible.

  “Did you forget about me? Oh my God, this woman is giving me the stink-eye. Give me your room number so we can have this conversation in person.”

  “Um . . .” I shake my head. I don’t really understand what’s happening, but that seems to be the theme of my life lately. So, why not? “I’m in 218.”

  “Up in a flash.”

  I hang up, then pull myself out of bed and rub my eyes, but they don’t want to stay open.

  Now what? Yesterday was all about running away, both physically and emotionally. But today, the sun is shining, and I’m in my sister’s hotel room in Michigan.

  “Veronica?” There’s a knock on the door. “Veronica? Are you okay?”

  I stumble out of bed and open the door to see Teagan standing on the other side. She looks just like she did in college—long, dark hair, and the flawless olive skin she gets from her Indian father. Today she’s showcasing her usual impeccable style with boots, jeans, a sweater, and a pair of chunky earrings. I remember her always looking put-together, no matter the occasion. “Teagan?”

  “Eeep!” She rushes at me with open arms and wraps me in a hug.

  “God, it’s been so long. I don’t think I’ve seen you since college.”

  She frowns and pulls back, rolling her eyes. “Except for last month? Don’t worry. I won’t take it personally. I just got you a job and a whole new life, but whatever, I’m not important enough to remember. I get it.” She looks me over. “You’re not even dressed yet? I thought we were doing breakfast, you ho.”

  I wander to the couch and sink into it. The enormity of the last twenty-four hours is suddenly so heavy that standing feels like too much. Right now, even the task of convincing an old friend that I’m me—and not my sister pretending to be me—sounds like far too much effort. “I don’t think I’m up for food.”

  “Oh, hell no. You’re not getting out of this.” She looks around the room. “My sister told me about pregnancy brain, but I always thought she was exaggerating. She’d stop in the middle of a sentence and have no idea what she’d been saying.”

  I blink at her, momentarily tempted to pretend I’m my sister just to find out details. “You knew about the pregnancy?” Does she know about Veronica and Marcus too? Did everyone know but me?

  She props her hands on her hips. “I’m trying not to be insulted, but you’re not making it easy. You can really be self-centered, girl. Where’s all your stuff? I’ll dress you myself if I have to.”

  I point to my duffel. “That is all I have. And most of it isn’t appropriate for the cold. Why is it so freaking cold here? I feel like my bones are growing icicles.”

  Her eyes go wide as she stares at my duffel. “Since when does Veronica Maddox pack light?”

  Since I’m not Veronica. I take a deep breath, but instead of helping me relax, queasiness washes over me.

  “You look like you haven’t slept a wink. Are you feeling okay?”

  I shake my head. “I’m a little nauseated.” I should have eaten something before going to bed. Or had some water. Now I need an aspirin and an industrial-size bottle of Gatorade.

  Turning away from my duffel, she looks down at my stomach and then back to my face. “Morning sickness?”

  “Hangover.”

  Her jaw unhinges, and she stares at me. “Girl.”

  “I’m not pregnant,” I say softly.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. No wonder you’re such a mess this morning. When did you lose it?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve never been pregnant. I’m not Veronica.”

  I don’t know if it’s from sheer repetition or something in my tone that finally gets through to her, but Teagan lifts a hand to cover her mouth. She sinks onto the couch beside me and proceeds to stare into my eyes for a period of time that could only be described as awkward. “Nicole? Nicole Maddox?”

  “In the flesh.”

  She tilts her head to one side, then the other, as if searching for the sign that I am who I say, which would make sense if Veronica and I weren’t completely identical. “It’s really you,” she says. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your honeymoon? Why are you here?”

  “Veronica is pregnant.”

  “I know.” Her brow wrinkles in confusion. “That’s why I got her the job up here with the Jacksons. People aren’t as judgy about single moms here as they are where you two come from.”

  “She’s pregnant with my fiancé’s baby.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, she left out that little detail when she was here last month.” She scowls and mutters, “What a cunt.”

  My stomach rolls and I squeeze my eyes shut. “I wouldn’t use that word.”

  She snorts. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’re the good twin. But I swear to you, if you slept with her fiancé, she’d call you a cunt so many times you’d think it was the name your mama gave you.”

  “I’m sorry I stood you up for breakfast, but I’m not her, so if you want to leave now, I’ll get back to sleeping off the worst day of my life.” And the hottest night. Did that really happen? Or did I dream it?

  “Wait, so when did you find out about them? Before or after you married the dude? And did he know he was sleeping with the wrong twin, or was Veronica pretending to be you like she used to do in college? Did you suspect anything?”

  I rub my temples. “That’s too many questions at once.” I lean back on the couch—the same couch where a sexy stranger gave me the most intense orgasm of my life just last night—and press my hand to my head. “I don’t know if I’m hungover because of the tequila or because of life.”

  “You need food. I’m taking you to Sunny Side Up. Best breakfast in town.”

  “Okay, start at the beginning,” she says when we’re seated in a booth at the back of a bustling diner.

  I give her the abbreviated version of what happened. The phone call I overheard, the wedding, Veronica puking on my ivory roses, finding myself at the airport with her purse, the panicked flight to Grand Rapids, and the drive in the rental car to Veronica’s hotel in Jackson Harbor.

  I leave out meeting the stranger at the bar, but jump to the text from Marcus that sent me into the women’s bathroom. I hand over Veronica’s phone so she can read it, though I read it so many times last night I could probably recite it from memory.

  Teagan takes the phone and reads aloud. “Nicole, Veronica told me you took her purse, so I’m texting you on her phone in case you have it. I’m sorry. I misled you. I lied to myself. I don’t think I ever loved you the way a man should love his wife. I’m fond of you, but you don’t light my soul on fire. I think this pregnancy was God’s way of stopping you and I from making a terrible mistake. You’ll never be the one I need, no matter how much I wanted you to be.”

  Teagan drops the phone to the table with a clatter. “Oh my God, has he always been this big of a douche, or is he just letting the douche flag fly because he was found out?”

  I shrug. “I thought I was lucky. I thought we were meant to be. He’s . . .” My eyes fill with tears. “I thought he was a good guy.”

  I was so angry when I got that text, and then that beautiful stranger was there, looking at me like he didn’t want to be anywhere else, even though I had ma
scara running down my face and probably seemed like the biggest drama queen in town.

  Then he kissed me, and I let him walk me to my hotel, and . . .

  I drag a hand over my face.

  My phone’s ringing—no, Veronica’s phone. I stare at it.

  “You should answer that,” Teagan says.

  The call is coming from my cell, which means there’s a good chance it’s my sister. Or some other random relative person in Jeffe who got their hands on my purse. I swallow hard and shake my head. “I can’t. I’m not ready.”

  After a few rings, it goes to voicemail, and I exhale. I’ve never been good at telling my sister no, even for the smallest thing, like taking a call.

  “Nobody can blame you,” Teagan says. “But you two are going to have to work something out eventually, right?”

  “But not today.”

  The phone beeps, alerting me that I have a voicemail.

  “Do you want me to listen to it for you?” Teagan asks.

  I shake my head, swipe the phone to unlock it, and tap the voicemail notification. I put it on speaker because knowing Teagan can hear it makes me feel a little less alone.

  “Hey, Nic. It’s Veronica.” Just the sound of my sister’s voice makes the backs of my eyes sting. It sounds like she’s been crying, and that tugs at my heart and pisses me off at the same time. I cling to the anger. I’m the one who should be upset. I’m the one who should get to cry.

  She’s the one who’s pregnant.

  “I know you took my flight to Michigan,” Veronica says. “I don’t blame you, but I need to call the Jacksons and tell them I can’t come, and all the information is on the phone. I was going to get it from you so I could call them, but you’re not answering my calls.”

  Teagan rolls her eyes and reaches over to punch pause on my voicemail. “What bullshit. Has she ever heard of Google? Ethan’s a doctor. She could find his office number with minimal effort.”

  I curl my hands into fists. How many times have I stepped in for Veronica when there was a tough call or meeting she didn’t want to take? I thought it was my job to get through the hard parts of life for her. No one else was around to do it.

  I take a breath and un-pause the message.

  “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me, but I was thinking about it, and if you want to stay in Jackson Harbor for a while . . . I know I don’t have the right to ask you any favors, but the little girl I’m supposed to be working with is such a sweetheart. The position is only for three months. Would you think about stepping in for me?” She pauses a beat. “The money is yours, of course. I just don’t want to leave the family in the lurch.”

  “How thoughtful of her,” Teagan grumbles.

  “Talk it over with Kathleen—that’s the woman who arranged this. She’s the little girl’s grandma, and I was supposed to meet with her at noon today. The information’s in the calendar on my phone.” I hear a noise in the background that sounds like someone speaking over an intercom. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. Our flight leaves—” She cuts herself off, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she carefully restructures that sentence. “Marcus and I are going to go ahead and go on the honeymoon. It’s not what it seems. We just need to get away so we can work some things out. It’s not like I’m taking your place, it’s just . . .”

  That’s exactly what it is. I close my eyes. I just want to go back to bed and stay there for as long as possible.

  “This is hard for me, too,” Veronica says. “I hope you can understand that someday. I don’t expect you to understand it now. I love you. Bye.”

  Teagan gapes at the phone. “So, you took her plane ticket to Michigan, and she’s taking yours to the Bahamas?”

  I nod, my stomach rolling. “It appears that way.”

  “And she took your fiancé and you’re taking . . . her job?”

  I make a face. “Why would I want her job?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. What else are you going to do? Go back to Jeffe?”

  That sounds terrible. “No. I’m not going back there. Not for a while, at least.” I meet Teagan’s eyes. We were friends in college, but I lost touch with her while I focused on one toxic relationship after another. I would have been better off focusing on my friends. “It was so terrible. Everyone was staring as I ran away. I’m just not ready to face that yet.”

  “Then stay here. Take Veronica’s job with the doctor, and have free room and board for a few months.”

  “Easier said than done, Teag. I’m not sure this doctor is going to think one sister is as good as the other. He hired Veronica. Why would he want me?”

  She frowns. “Why do you make it sound like you’re the generic, store-brand version of your twin?”

  “You know what I mean. This isn’t just any job. People are peculiar about who they let near their children.”

  “You have experience, and this isn’t just any nanny gig. It’s a totally cushy one. Lilly is six years old. No dirty diapers or terrible twos. And the little girl’s in kindergarten so your days are practically your own.”

  I frown. “Then why does he need a nanny?”

  “He’s an OBGYN—delivers babies at all hours of the day. He needs someone at the house so he can leave without notice in the middle of the night.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  Teagan shrugs. “I know Dr. Jackson from the hospital where I work. I’m the one who told Veronica about the job. She’d found out she was pregnant and called me, asking if I wanted a roommate. No offense to your sister, but I wasn’t interested in that arrangement. It worked out, though, because I’d just heard that Dr. Jackson was looking for a nanny.”

  I look at my watch. “I guess I have to go to the meeting. It’s not this family’s fault that Veronica is heading to the Bahamas instead of moving in with them.” In fact, it’s my fault. If I hadn’t taken her flight, she could have done the right thing by the Jacksons.

  “If Kathleen needs someone to vouch for you, tell her to call me.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t get your hopes up, Teagan. I’m going to this meeting to break the news that Veronica isn’t coming. That’s it.”

  “And what are you going to do after that?”

  I turn up my palms. “Book a few more nights at the Tiffany Hotel and lick my wounds?” I think about the piece of paper with my mysterious stranger’s number on it. I left it unread on my bedside table. I should throw it away as soon as possible. I have a long track record of throwing myself headlong into the nearest possible romance, from heartbreak to new love again and again. Last night was fun and amazing and possibly exactly what I needed, but anything resembling a relationship is exactly what I don’t need.

  When I get back to the hotel, I’ll throw it away. Otherwise, my mysterious stranger might prove to be too much temptation.

  Ethan

  “Nana and I made cinnamon rolls!” Lilly announces, racing into the kitchen of my childhood home.

  We started Jackson Sunday brunches when my oldest brother, Brayden, went to college. The tradition continues even now, when Dad is gone and we’re all out on our own. The house is still technically Mom’s, but Brayden’s been living here since Mom moved into my in-law suite to help with Lilly.

  “Oh, look, more carbs and fat to tempt me,” my sister, Shay, says, inspecting the cinnamon rolls with a disapproving frown.

  My mom slides the pan onto the counter and shakes her head. “One cinnamon roll won’t hurt you, Shayleigh.”

  “Tell that to my hips,” Shay mutters.

  “She’s already mad at Brayden for the bacon,” Jake says.

  “He made three pounds of it!” she says. “Even you have to admit that’s excessive.”

  “One, there’s no such thing as excessive bacon,” Brayden says. “Two, there are a lot of us.” He helps Lilly put the cinnamon rolls onto the breakfast bar with the other fixings of this morning’s meal—bacon, biscuits, gravy, egg casserole, and fruit salad.


  Jake shrugs and swivels his gaze to me. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He makes no attempt to hide his amusement. “Late night?”

  Carter’s eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “No shit?” He takes a sip of his coffee. “The girl?”

  “Late night at the hospital,” I say, avoiding their eyes.

  “You’re no fun,” Carter mutters.

  “He left with her,” Jake says.

  I glare at him. “Seriously? How about some discretion?”

  “Ethan went home with someone?” Shay asks. “Who?”

  “New girl,” Jake says. “Hot as hell, with a sexy Southern accent.”

  “Language,” Mom says, glaring at Jake.

  “I walked her home,” I say. “That’s it.”

  “She made him smile,” Carter says, as if this is some grand accomplishment.

  “I smile all the time,” I growl.

  “Whatever you say, big brother.” Shay shoves a cup of coffee in my direction. “No matter what kept you up last night, it looks like you need this.”

  I take a long pull from the steaming cup and sigh. Shay takes coffee very seriously, and the rest of us benefit. No one makes a cup of joe as good as hers.

  “Daddy.” Lilly tugs on my jeans and tilts her face up to me. My heart swells at the sight of those big brown eyes, her perfect face framed by her mother’s thick, dark hair. “Can I have a cinnamon roll?”

  I look around. “Is everyone here?”

  “Levi isn’t going to make it. He got held up in Florida,” Brayden says. He drops to his haunches and scoops up Lilly. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

  I shake my head. I’ve tried to tell my brothers that now that Lilly is six, she’s too big to be carried around, but they don’t listen to me. She has them all wrapped around her little finger, so I’m pretty sure that if she wants piggyback rides when she’s fifteen, she’ll still get them.

  Brayden grabs a plate from the far end of the bar and fills it for his niece.

  Jake leans against the wall next to me. “Are you going to see her again?”