She hands me a piece of paper folded in half. I open it up and it’s a message from the clinic to call them and on the bottom is Aspen’s chicken scratch with the number 4347.
I look up at my mom who gives me a sad smile. She leans in and kisses my cheek. “Nothing in life is perfect, sweetheart. It’s all a matter of priorities and timing. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow ... take today and clean yourself and your apartment. Don’t let your dreams die over a broken heart.”
Easy for her to say, she’s never suffered through one like this. “It just hurts so much.”
“I know, and I hate that you’re in pain. But I would also hate to see you let your dream opportunity pass you by ...”
I don’t want my dream chance to pass me by either. My cycle is due in a week, and I would be able to start after that. But I have to make a choice. “I don’t want losing him to be for nothing. I know that I want this baby, and clearly Reid isn’t going to be the man to give it to me. But I’m scared.”
“No matter what you choose, Willow, I’ll be here.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say and then sniff because I thought the same about Reid.
She heads to the door, opens it, and then looks back at me. “I’m sorry if my pushing you and Reid together caused you pain, sweetheart. I really thought that you two were going to be a perfect match.”
My eyes well with tears. “There’s no such thing as perfect. We were imperfect from the start.”
Twenty-Four
Reid
It’s been a really shitty day. Not that there’s been a good day since Willow and I broke up. Each day is just one more step down on the descent into hell. I keep waiting for it to get better, but it doesn’t.
Tonight, I had a dinner meeting that ran later than expected, not that I have any big reason to rush home, but I haven’t slept in three days and I’m fucking beat. Now, it’s almost nine and I’m just getting to the building.
The only high point is that Leo has improv class, which means I don’t have to listen to his unwelcome relationship advice. It would benefit us both if before he spoke, he remembered he lives with me thanks to his last fuck-up of a relationship, but then he wouldn’t be Leo.
I grab the mail from the box and get in the elevator, brooding as I flip through the huge stack. I asked Leo to pick up the mail this week, but clearly he ignored me.
Bill. Another bill. Oh, look, more fucking bills, and a greeting card with no return address.
I start to open the card, curious as to who the hell sent me something, when the doors start to close. Before they do, I hear someone yell and a hand reaches into the space between them. “Hold the elevator!”
And the shitty day I was having just hit rock bottom.
It’s Willow. She gets on the elevator and stands there, blond hair in a ponytail, wearing a pencil skirt, white blouse, and a pair of running shoes. The cause of all my misery, sleeplessness, anxiety.
She’s fucking beautiful.
More beautiful than my worthless mind has been recalling every goddamn minute.
She’s just … more.
“Oh.” Her soft voice squeaks as her eyes meet mine. “Sorry, I can just take the next one.”
As much as I’d like that because being trapped in a small space with her will be my equivalent of hell, I attempt a lazy smile and chuckle. “Don’t be ridiculous, Wills. We’re going to run into each other.”
She bites her lower lip and looks down. “Right. Okay. We’ll just rip the Band-Aid off now so it won’t hurt later.”
She says that as if it’s just a scrape.
That’s not what the loss of her is. No, this is a big, gaping, raw, open wound that stitches can’t hold together. It’s as though a part of my body is missing and it hurts, but I don’t tell her that. “Exactly.”
Willow leans against the wall on the opposite side. We start to climb, and I swear to God this is the slowest elevator in the city of Chicago. I don’t even think we’re moving. The silence in here is uncomfortable and you could cut the tension with a knife.
She’s right here in front of me. I could touch her if I just reached out a little. I clench my fists to keep myself from doing just that because I don’t have that right anymore. Willow Hayes isn’t mine. She wants what I can’t give her and what I don’t deserve.
Instead, I get to just look at her and hate myself a little bit more. I wish I could see her eyes, though. The way she used to look at me could be enough to hold me over for a few hours at least. Her smile might give me a whole night of peace.
I deserve at least that, right?
“So,” I say, waiting for her gaze to lift.
And it does and my chest fucking aches. “So …”
Get knocked up yet? Decide you don’t want kids and you’ll come back to me? Are you okay after that asshole you fell in love with turned out to be a douchebag?
“How’s work?” I ask.
Her lips part and she stares at me for a second. “Umm, it’s fine. What about you?”
I’m miserable and a bear to work with. I hate myself. I hate you for making me love you. I hate people, the sun, food, breathing. “Great. Things are good. Work is going well and I’m just staying busy.”
“That’s great,” she says and then looks back down. After another few seconds, she looks back up. “How’s Leo?”
“He’s Leo.”
“Well, tell him I said hello.”
I look up and we have two more floors to go. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like time is moving too slow, it’s going at rapid speed. She’s going to walk out and go to her apartment and I’ll be in mine—alone. I want to rush forward and hit the stop button. Tell her I love her and I need her. Beg her to understand and give me time, but it won’t be fair.
We’ll never see eye to eye and I won’t be the man that breaks her.
“I will.”
The elevator dings and the doors open. And my heart is pounding. I don’t know when I’ll see her again, hear her voice, get even a glimpse into her life. This is what our relationship has been reduced to … me praying I can be near her in the elevator.
We both stand there and I step forward. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
This isn’t us. We’re not indifferent strangers. Before, she would’ve just walked out or her arm would’ve been hooked in mine. We would’ve kissed the entire ride up just a few days ago. If I went back further, we would’ve been laughing and smiling as we made fun of our siblings or griped about our jobs.
I guess this is the new us. The people we once were are gone because we never should’ve tried when we were doomed from the start.
We get to the doors of our apartments, and feeling shittier than ever, I can’t hold back. This can’t be the way it is because that would be the saddest thing. Not only that, I need her. I don’t care that we have differences, we’re fucking Reid and Willow, the unbreakable friends that everyone else was jealous of. There has to be a way. “Hey, Wills …” I call her name as she stands in front of her door.
She turns. “Yes?” Her eyes are so trusting, hopeful, and I see everything I want right here.
The hope is what does me in. She still thinks there’s a man worth more inside of me. Someone who is capable of loving her and giving her more than what I can. It’s false and it brings me to my knees. “Have a good night.”
Her eyes close as she nods. “Yeah, you too.”
There’s not a chance in hell that will happen. There’s nothing good without her.
I can’t stop thinking it.
As I rummage through the pitifully empty refrigerator—there’s nothing good without her.
As I sit staring at a stupid, sappy movie on TV—there’s nothing good without her.
As I lie awake in bed, contemplating thousands of lonely nights like this—there’s nothing good without her.
Is this really what my life is going to be like from now on? Day after day, night after night of missing her? Of hating myself for letting
her go? Of wishing I could be someone else?
Why does it have to be so fucking hard for me to imagine myself as a husband and father? Deep in my heart, I want to be those things for her … but I’m scared. I have no idea how to be the man that she deserves.
And yet I love her enough to do anything for her, don’t I? Even face off against my own monsters under the bed? Look them in the eye and tell them to fuck right off? Banish them from my life forever so I can not only make Willow happy, but be happy with myself?
But how?
I lie awake for hours until it hits me out of nowhere—I know what I have to do.
Early the following morning, I go straight to my father’s office. It isn’t even eight yet, but I know he’ll be here already.
I hardly slept last night but feel oddly energized as the elevator rises to the twenty-second floor of the downtown Chicago skyscraper where The Fortino Group’s executive suites are housed. My pulse is racing, and my stomach muscles are tight. My hands clench repeatedly at my sides.
The administrative staff isn’t in yet, so I’m able to walk right past reception and his assistant’s desk, and barge into his swanky corner office with a view of the lake. My father sits reading a newspaper at his desk, cup of coffee in one thick-fingered hand. He’s wearing a dark suit, red tie tightly knotted, salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed back. He has a broad chest, a prominent brow, and a granite slab of a chin. If not for the expensive clothing and cufflinks, he might look more like a mob boss than a CEO.
He looks up from his desk in annoyance at the intrusion. “Reid? What the hell?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Then make an appointment.”
“I’m your son. I shouldn’t need an appointment to talk to you!”
He sits back in his chair and studies me. “What’s this about? Have you come to your senses? Are you ready to quit picking around at that stupid little job working for someone else and take your place here?”
“There’s no way in hell I’d work for you.”
His dark eyes turn beady. “You’ve got something against money, power, and success, is that it?”
“I’ve got something against the man who destroyed my family.”
“When are you going to grow up? You’re a Fortino, for fuck’s sake. Act like one.” He’s getting riled up, and I find myself enjoying it. As a kid, his temper scared me, but I’m not afraid of him anymore.
“You might think I’m a Fortino, but it’s only in name.”
“It’s in your blood.”
I shake my head and realize something for the first time. “You’re wrong. My blood is my own. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m being punished for your mistakes. I’m not you.”
He cocks his head to one side. “Is this some kind of sins-of-the-father bullshit? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact I might have just lost the best thing that ever happened to me because I was too afraid of being like you.”
He looks amused. “Are you talking about a girl?”
“I’m talking about Willow. She’s not just some girl—she’s everything to me, and I walked out on her.”
“And somehow that’s my fault?” His smirk infuriates me.
“Yes!” I snap. “Because she wants a good man—a real man, a man who’d be a good husband and father. And thanks to you, I have no fucking idea what that looks like!”
“Listen, you’re smart to ditch the girl now, whatever the reason. Marriage is a hassle no man needs. An impossible game to win.”
“It’s not a game at all, Dad. It’s real life, and the way you treated Mom had real consequences—for her, and for Leo and me. Your game playing wrecked our entire family. Why do you think mom drinks so much? Why do you think Leo can’t hold a job? Why did I grow up being more of a father to Leo than you ever were?”
Riled up, my dad gets to his feet. “Your mother expected too much—it fucking exhausted me! And your brother was a spoiled brat who never toughened up and grew a backbone. He’s been a pansy his entire life.”
“Don’t talk about him like that!” I move forward and lean over the desk to get in his face. “All he ever wanted—all any of us ever wanted was to feel like we mattered to you! But you were too self-centered to care.”
“A man provides for his family, and that’s what I did! Christ, did you think your privileged life was free? The million-dollar house? The cars? The vacations? The Ivy League education? And how about the trips to rehab? You think those are cheap? I’ve had to work for every cent, Reid.”
“We could have lived with less money and more attention.”
He rolls his eyes. “So you’d have been happier being poor? What a joke. You’re wasting my time, Reid. If you didn’t come here to take your place in this company, then what the hell do you want from me? I can’t turn back time, and even if I could, I am who I am, and I’m not going to change. Your mother knew who she married.”
I look at him for a long, hard moment over that desk, and find relief when I see no trace of myself in his face. “I don’t want anything from you anymore. I came here today to confront you, to ask you why you treated us all like dirt, like possessions—as though we didn’t mean as much to you as the fancy cars in your garage. I wanted to look you in the eye and say fuck you for never being there. Fuck you for not caring more. Fuck you for making me feel like I can’t be a better man. Because I can. And I will.”
We stare at each other for a few more seconds, and even though we’re the same height, I feel taller than my father for the first time. Bigger. Stronger. More powerful.
“See you around, Dad.” Without looking back, I stride out of his office and down the hall to the elevator.
I feel like a million bucks, like a huge weight has been lifted off me, like I’ve let go of something that’s been dragging me down all my life. There’s still work to do, of course, but I’m not scared of it.
I know what I want, and that’s a life with Willow.
I just have to figure out a way to get her back.
Twenty-Five
Willow
The day after I ran into Reid in the elevator feels endless. It’s Friday, but the prospect of the weekend means nothing to me anymore. There’s no hope of anything being fun without Reid.
I work late, desperate for the distraction, and walk home about seven, pulling my coat tighter around me in the chilly autumn darkness. In my shoulder bag is the slip of paper with Aspen’s writing on it—number 4347. All day long, I kept thinking of picking up the phone and making the call, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I want it to feel fun and exciting, and right now I’m incapable of those feelings.
First thing Monday, I promise myself. That’s when I’ll call.
In the lobby of my building, I hold my breath as the elevator doors open. I don’t want to see him and have to cross paths, wondering where he’s off to on a Friday night. What if he’s dressed up for a date? What if he’s freshly shaven? What if he’s wearing cologne? The thought of him preparing to spend time with another woman makes me insane with jealousy.
But the doors open, and he isn’t there.
I’m both relieved and disappointed. I miss his eyes and his smile and his hands and his smell and—just everything. Being in the elevator with him yesterday was torture.
The doors open on my floor, and the hall is empty and quiet. With a heavy sigh, I make my way toward my door. While I’m standing there digging out my keys, I can hear the TV on in Reid and Leo’s apartment, but the weird thing is, I hear music coming from mine. Did I leave something on?
Frowning, I put my ear up to the door, and sure enough, I hear Dean Martin crooning away in there. What the hell?
I let myself in, and the first thing that hits me is a delectable aroma—it smells like an Italian restaurant. Tomatoes and garlic and fresh bread and oregano. My mouth waters immediately, even as my brain tries to make sense of it. Am I on the wrong floor?
Panicked t
hat I somehow managed to let myself into the wrong apartment, I glance around, but the furniture is mine.
That’s when Reid comes out of the kitchen, carrying a board full of charcuterie. “Oh! You’re home! I didn’t hear you come in.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. He’s wearing an apron over his button-down. It’s red and says CAUTION: Extremely Hot.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“Cooking you dinner.” He walks over to the coffee table and sets the board down next to an open bottle of wine and two empty glasses I hadn’t noticed before.
“Why?” My heart has started to pound. Is this for real?
“Because we’re celebrating.” He comes around the couch and takes my hands. “At least, I hope we are.”
“Reid, I’m feeling a little lost here.” I shake my head. “What on earth would we be celebrating?”
“The future. Our future.”
“We have a future?”
“Of course we do.” He presses his lips to mine before I can stop him. “And in our future, I make meatballs for you!”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” I shake off his hands and move away from him. “This isn’t okay, Reid. I’ve spent the last week drowning in tears because you walked out on us. You can’t just waltz in here with meatballs and Dean Martin and make it all better. Someday maybe we can be friends again, but I’m not there yet.”
“I don’t want to be friends, Willow.” Reid moves close enough to take my face in his hands. “I want more. I want it all. And I want it forever.”
I’m almost scared to ask, but I have to. “What do you mean, you want it all? What’s all?”
“I want to be all the things you deserve—a husband, a father, the love of your life.” He kisses me again. “I love you, Wills. I can’t go one more day without you.”
Behind him the room is spinning. “But what about what you said before? I thought you never wanted to get married or have kids.”
Imperfect Match Page 18
