The Wrong Kind of Love

by Lexi Ryan

  “Are you two talking about giant throbbing balls?” Jake asks, sliding our water glasses onto the table.

  I point to Teagan. “She is. I am not.”

  “Do you need advice?” He looks her over with a grin. “About giant throbbing balls?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You wish. What’s on special today, Jake?”

  “I’ve got a pastrami on rye or a fried chicken club.”

  “Do you have anything that isn’t loaded with fat and sodium?”

  Jake folds his arms. “Yeah. Beer. I’ve got lots of beer. It’s an American pub—what do you expect?”

  She sighs and looks at me. “Want to share the fried chicken club?”

  “Sounds perfect to me,” I tell Jake, because, come on, I grew up in Alabama. It wasn’t until high school that I learned there was a way to cook chicken that didn’t involve batter and a pan of hot oil.

  Jake glares at Teagan and points a thumb at me. “Why can’t you be more like her?”

  “Because she’s an angel and I’m just a little bit evil.” She thrums her fingers on the table. “That’s why I like her so much more than her evil twin. Need me some yin for my yang.”

  Jake swivels his gaze back to me. “You have a twin? For real?”

  I nod and swallow hard, shooting a glare in Teagan’s direction for bringing it up. Seriously, what am I supposed to say if he asks her name? “For real,” I say softly.

  He drags his gaze down my body—or as much as he can with me seated in a booth. “Please tell me you’re identical. Lie if you have to.”

  “We are,” I admit. Every piece of truth I give this family alleviates my guilt incrementally.

  “And you kiss sometimes?” he asks. “On the lips? With a little tongue?”

  I fold my arms. “No.”

  “You’re disgusting,” Teagan says, but she doesn’t hold back her snicker. “Go make our food, pervert. We’re hungry.”

  Jake winks at me and heads back to the bar.

  “Don’t do that,” I tell Teagan when Jake’s gone.

  “Do what? Flirt with Jake?” She shakes her head. “It’s harmless fun. Trust me, if we were going to hook up, we would have done it a long time ago.”

  “I mean, don’t bring up Veronica.”

  Her big brown eyes go wide. “Oh, shit, Nic. I didn’t even think about it. I’m so sorry.”

  I draw in a shaky breath. “It’s okay. I just don’t want to be put in a position where I have to tell more lies.”

  “I’ll be more careful. I promise.” She reaches out to squeeze my hand. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  “Of course I’m not mad at you. I just panicked a little.”

  She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, and in that flash, she looks uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Well, good. Because I’ve been so much happier since you’ve been here. I have friends, but it gets lonely in this tundra.” Her smile widens and all the vulnerability vanishes from her eyes, replaced by her usual playfulness. She laughs. “I guess I’m trying to say, I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  I laugh too, but I squeeze her hand. “I love you too, Teag.” I wish I’d been more focused on friendship in college and less focused on finding my happily-ever-after. If I hadn’t been so obsessed with making myself a family, I would have avoided so much heartache and maybe even had friends I could call family. “What made you move to Jackson Harbor, anyway?”

  She shrugs and toys with her straw. “I got a job here.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You’re a nurse. There are jobs everywhere. I thought you went back to Virginia after college.”

  “I did. Briefly.” She drags her bottom lip between her teeth and studies her ice water for a long time before lifting her gaze to mine. “You’re not the only one who needed to get away from your hometown. Jackson Harbor is good for that.”

  I frown. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Nope.” She pastes on a plastic smile. “But thanks for asking.”

  “I’ll try again when you’re drunk,” I say.

  “Drunk, in private, and in the mood for a good cry,” she says.

  “Damn.” I wince. She must be running from something worse than I thought. “Got it.”

  “Are you going to talk to Ethan?” she asks, shifting the subject back to me. “Do you think last night changes things?”

  “Last night doesn’t change anything.” I swallow. “I’m actually hoping we can avoid another conversation about our relationship as employer and employee. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to have a conversation about how it’s probably not appropriate for me to fantasize about him in his bathtub and then come to a screaming orgasm when I realize he’s watching me.”

  She tries to bite back her giggle, but that only makes the laughter come out in a snort, which makes her laugh even harder.

  “I hate you,” I say.

  “Too late. You said you love me. No take-backs.” She’s still holding my hand and gives it another squeeze.

  “Are we still on for tomorrow? Ethan isn’t on call, so I have the whole night free.”

  “Yes! Oh my God, your twenty-fifth. I can’t wait. What are we gonna do? Wanna go to Grand Rapids? They have better dance clubs there.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not sure you know this about me, but I’m not really into the club scene. I thought maybe we could just come here and have a couple of beers and some fried food.”

  “And maybe run into your sexy employer on your night off?”

  I roll my eyes. “Since it is my night off, he’ll be with Lilly and not at a bar, so no. That wasn’t part of my plan.”

  “How disappointing. I want big things for you on your birthday, including orgasms that don’t require the use of your own hand.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe next year,” I mutter.

  “Okay, so Jackson Brews it is. And then maybe we can go shopping on Sunday. Think of all the Christmas sales!”

  “I feel like this is just you trying to give me a makeover.”

  She throws her hand against her chest. “Me? I would never.”

  I shrug. “Whatever. Maybe I need one.”

  “To seduce Dr. McBroody Pants?”

  “To feel good about myself without a Dr. McAnything telling me I’m hot.”

  “Hashtag goals,” she says, tapping her water glass to mine.

  Nicole

  “You need to come home.”

  “Nicole,” Kathleen says, “I know you’re not the type to be comfortable with a lie, but—”

  “This isn’t about me.” I sink into the couch and press my warm mug of coffee against my cheek with one hand and hold my phone to my ear with the other. Lilly’s at school and Ethan’s at work. I’m alone in this house with the ghost of Ethan’s wife, but it’s my lies that are haunting me. “It’s about love.”

  “What does that mean?” She sounds weaker every time I speak to her—which isn’t often. After that first week, her calls have become the exception rather than the rule.

  “Lilly loves you, possibly more than she loves anyone else, and the love you show her in return will lay the foundation for all the great loves of her life.” I swallow hard. As sappy as my words sound, I know they’re true. I’ve been thinking about this since the night Lilly got sick. She was so upset after getting off the phone with her grandmother that night, and I realized what Kathleen isn’t around to see for herself—that her absence is its own kind of drawn-out goodbye.

  “I love her too. That’s why I’m doing this.” Her words are crisp, almost angry. “I’m protecting her.”

  “But you’re not. You can’t protect her from pain. I know they say love shouldn’t hurt, but that’s impossible. Love—the good kind—fills us so completely that when we feel it pulling away, it’s like having our guts cut out.”

  “Why would I want to do that to an innocent child?”

  “But that’s just it. You are doing it. You’re pulling away because you’re afraid of what might happen
. You need to come home.”

  Silence fills the line, and I close my eyes. I don’t like to say anything that might make someone angry with me, but here I am, saying the last thing she wants to hear.

  “Is that all?” she asks. Her voice is softer now. “You’ve said what you need to say?”

  I swallow. “Yes. That’s all.”

  “Then I’ll go. But . . .” She hesitates a beat. “Thank you for saying your piece. I will think about it.”

  I smile, hope blossoming in my chest. “Good. That’s all I ask.”

  Ethan

  “There’s nothing wrong with them.” My administrative assistant folds her arms and glares at me.

  “They’re not good enough.” I shove the stack of applicants to the side and shake my head. The agency sent me another list of candidates for the position, and I had Dreya go through them for me. I told her to give me the five she thought were the best, and she gave me five applicants who aren’t half as good as Nic is on paper—and Nic is even better in person.

  Dreya looks to the ceiling for a few beats—the way she does when someone is trying her nerves and she’s searching for patience—then takes a deep breath and looks at me again. “No one is good enough for our children. You’re looking for someone competent and caring, not someone who’s perfect. It’s simple.”

  It’s not. I look at the stack again. “Maybe I’ll give a couple of phone interviews.”

  “Why don’t you just ask the girl you have to stay? It sounds like she’s perfect. Who cares if you bumped uglies? You’re adults.”

  I snap my gaze to hers. “What?”

  She rolls her eyes. “This is Jackson Harbor, Dr. Jackson. There are no secrets—especially not about things that happen at your brother’s bar.”

  I try to scowl, but Dreya has worked for me for too long to be intimidated and stares right back.

  “If the problem is that no one measures up to her, ask her to stay.”

  I look into her kind but stern eyes. Dreya’s my mom’s age, and she’s worked for me from the beginning. She’s the only one who has the courage to put me in my place when I’m being a prick, and the only one I let get away with it. “What happens when she leaves, Dreya?”

  She steps forward and squeezes my wrist in a rare gesture of affection. “People leave. Sometimes because they want to. Sometimes because they have to. That’s life, Ethan, but think how much we’d miss if we never let anyone close because we were afraid it might hurt when they leave.”

  I shake my head. “Lilly isn’t afraid.”

  She releases my wrist and steps back. “I know. I wasn’t talking about her.”

  Nicole

  “What do you think?” Ethan asks as I scan the résumé for the retired preschool teacher. “Isn’t she perfect?”

  I hand it back to him and manage a smile around the tightness in my throat, reminding myself that I want him to find the right candidate for this job, reminding myself that no matter how much I love and adore Ethan Jackson’s daughter, I can’t stay here and continue to pretend to be someone I’m not. “She’s exactly what you’re looking for.”

  He looks down at the paper and then back to me, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Should I set up the interview?”

  “That’s up to you, Ethan. She looks great on paper. Now it’s just down to whether or not your personalities are a good fit.”

  He squeezes the back of his neck. “When you got your degree, did you plan on being a nanny, or was this just a temporary move for you?”

  God, I hate the lie. I should have finished my degree. I never should have let love pull me away from my dreams. “I never intended to be a nanny long-term. I wanted to open my own preschool someday, but it hasn’t worked out.”

  “My mom’s pushing me to find a long-term live-in nanny for Lilly. I was so opposed to bringing anyone in at all at first, but I wanted her to be able to travel, so I agreed. But now that I see you with Lilly . . .” He looks away. “You’re really amazing with my daughter.”

  My face warms. “She’s a really amazing girl.”

  “I don’t want to arrange this interview if I already have the perfect candidate for a long-term position.” His eyes meet mine, and I wish I were better at reading people. I see worry and sadness there, but there’s more. It’s as if he’s searching my eyes for answers. “I need to make this decision based on what’s best for my daughter, not based on what I want.”

  Does that mean he wants me to stay or that he wants me to go? “I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

  “Your original contract was for three months. What if I don’t want to call any of these candidates? What if I want you to continue on until February?”

  I draw in a ragged breath. “If you need me, I will.”

  “And what about after that? Do you have plans?”

  “I like Jackson Harbor. I mean, minus the bone-chilling cold. I might like to find a job around here.” I freeze. If I stay, he’ll eventually learn that I’m not Veronica. If I leave, he’ll never have to find out. But where would I go? One thing I’ve learned about having no roots is that every storm knocks me over. I’m ready for roots, and the longer I’m in Jackson Harbor, the more I want to put them down here. Would I be willing to give that up? To leave in February if it meant Ethan would never discover my lie?

  He searches my face. “Would you consider staying on with me longer? When my mother returns, I want her to have the freedom to travel more frequently. I mean, we’d take another look at your contract, of course. Increase your pay or give you some long-term benefits.”

  Damn you, Kathleen. If we’d been honest with Ethan from the beginning, I could say yes right now. Because I so badly want to stay. Sure, my feelings for Ethan are complicated, but his family is amazing, and I love this little town. Most importantly, I love the time with Lilly.

  “Nic? Will you say something?”

  I lift my eyes to meet his and shake my head. “I wish I could, but I can’t. I’ll stay until February, but you’ll need someone new then.” And I’ll need to find a new place to start over.

  He studies the résumé in his hands. “Right. Of course. You were never planning for this to be permanent. You have plans and places to be.”

  My heart squeezes, and the truth sits heavy on my tongue. I can’t stay because I can’t continue to lie to you. “I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “No. It’s not a big deal. Mom will be back in February anyway, so even if this woman isn’t a good fit, we’ll be fine.”

  I try to smile, but I can’t help but think about how awful Kathleen sounded on the phone this morning. Will she be back in February? If her treatments need to continue beyond that point, what will she tell her family?

  “It’s worse than I expected,” she said when Lilly gave the phone back to me. “Since I was by my husband’s side through his treatments, I thought I was prepared for what was coming, but I wasn’t. I have some good moments, but not many.”

  “Interview the preschool teacher,” I tell Ethan now. “I bet she’ll be perfect.” My phone buzzes on the counter, and I grab it without thinking and take the call. “Hello?”

  “Ronnie? Is that you?”

  I draw in a ragged breath at that nickname for my twin and the voice speaking it. I haven’t heard either since high school. “Mom?”

  “Happy birthday, baby. How are you? How was your sister’s wedding?”

  My eyes fill with tears. I haven’t talked to my mother in years, but she knew I was getting married. She never calls me, but she knows Veronica’s phone number and called to wish her a happy birthday. “This is Nic.”

  She’s silent for a dozen beats of my aching heart. “Nicky?”

  I swallow around the lump in my throat and look at the floor. I know Ethan is staring at me. “Yeah. How are you?”

  “Oh, you know, pretty good. Where’s Ronnie?”

  “She’s not here right now, Mom. Do you . . .” What am I supposed to say? Why don’t you ever
call me? Hey, why don’t you pretend you care, since you have me on the phone? “Can I give her a message for you?”

  “I just called to tell her happy birthday. She always loved me most. Just wanted her to know her mama still cares.”

  I close my eyes. She always loved me most. Mom never forgave me for trying to make the best of our lives when they took us away again. “I’ll tell her.”

  “You okay, Nicky? That rich boy being good to you?” I don’t know if she’s drunk or high or if she’s spent so much of her life under the influence of something that she just naturally slurs her words together now.

  “We broke up,” I whisper. “But I’m fine.”

  “Of course you are. Nicky, my fixer. You never needed anyone. Not like your sister. Ronnie needs someone to take care of her.”

  “I have to go, Mom.”

  “Bye, baby. Don’t forget to tell Ronnie I called.”

  I nod even though I know she can’t see me. “Okay.”

  When I hang up, Ethan’s still looking at me. “Is everything okay?”

  I force a smile. “Everything’s fine.”

  But it’s not, and some days, camouflaging my broken heart gets exhausting.

  Nicole

  I don’t find the courage to call my twin until I’m in a booth at the back of Jake’s bar waiting to meet up with Teagan. Honestly, only the possibility of Teagan telling Veronica off in the background is making me call my sister now instead of later.

  She answers on the first ring. “Hello?”

  “Happy birthday, sis.” I cringe at the sound of my voice. I sound way too hopeful, too desperate to please. Too much like the girl I want to stop being.

  “Nic, hi. Happy birthday.” Veronica clears her throat, and I close my eyes and imagine her. Typical Veronica would spend her birthday at a bar with as many friends as she could fit in the room. She’d get sloppy drunk and dance on the bar, probably lose a few friends when she was lit enough to tell them what she really thought of them, and go home with her pick of the single men. Or maybe being single was never a requirement for her.