Chapter Ten
Everybody has an ex. How much can you tolerate hearing about his past relationships?
BY THE TIME Parker slid into the driver’s seat of his SUV, Maddie’s temples were pounding, but at least her pulse was almost normal again. She dropped her head against the headrest and stared out the window without really seeing the trees drooping over the neighborhood.
He cranked the engine, then tugged at her seatbelt. “You okay?”
No, she wasn’t okay. Not even close. She squeezed her eyes shut to try to hold in the tears welling up. “I can’t do this, Parker,” she whispered. “I want to hug him and throttle him at the same time, and I’m not supposed to care enough to want to do either.”
Parker ruffled her hair and planted a kiss on her head. “Hang in there, Mad.”
She leaned on his shoulder and sighed. “Thanks for coming.” Cool air blew out of the vents and onto her bare arms. Goose bumps popped up all over her flesh. She’d seen friends have asthma attacks before, but never that fast, never that intense. It had scared her badly enough she’d had trouble breathing too.
And then he’d asked for her help. Maybe not in so many words, but he kept coming back. He needed a friend and he’d picked Maddie. How could she refuse him when God had taken so much away from him? “This is one of those things that’s supposed to make me a better person, isn’t it?” she said into Parker’s shoulder.
He sighed. “Dad did that sermon again this morning?”
“Yeah. Does it work?”
“Gimme another eight years, and I’ll let you know.” He patted her leg. “Let’s go get some birthday cake.”
Maddie straightened and opened her eyes again. Normal. Okay, she could pretend everything was normal. “What about my kabobs?”
Parker shifted the car into gear. “Simon hid all the mushrooms. He says he has enough problems and he’s not dealing with mushroom farts.”
“Whatever. I don’t smell nearly as bad as any of the rest of you.”
Parker grinned. “You just keep telling yourself that. You coming to the meeting about the mayor tomorrow night?”
The mayor. One more problem on her ever-growing list. With the town in the dumps, a small group— including Ruby, Gina, and Maddie and her brothers—had decided a change of leadership was in order. It wouldn’t be a popular proposition, since Mayor Cooper had been mayor so long no one could remember his first name. He hadn’t had an opponent in twenty-eight years, and that was after he’d already served a couple of decades. Putting someone in this year’s race against him would be controversial, and Maddie wasn’t entirely certain her presence would help. Not with the flack she was taking over MisterGoodEnough.com. “Think I’m welcome?” she said.
“You know the only reason people are giving you trouble is because they care about you. They don’t want you to settle.”
“And I suppose you agree.”
“Hell, no. I wish I’d been smart enough to look for Ms. Good Enough instead of Ms. Crazy But Good in Bed.”
The things she wished she didn’t know. “Are you mocking me?”
Parker shook his head. “When it comes right down to it, most people set their expectations too high. Your site’s calling that bullshit. Some of it’s a little out there, but you’re looking at the good and the bad, the reality of living with another person. I think you’re selling it wrong, but the idea’s solid.”
“Really?”
“Shorter fall if your head isn’t in the clouds. You’re doing the world a favor.”
“Did I ever tell you you’re my favorite brother?”
He grunted.
Maddie smiled and nudged him. “So are you looking for a date?”
“Only if she can afford a better lawyer than the barracuda.”
“Tsk, tsk. High expectations.”
“Exactly.”
“We could tweak the site,” Maddie said. “Open another one and call it FindYourSugarMama.com.”
Parker cut her a look. “You know you’re not right?”
“Yep. But you love me anyway.”
“Usually.” He turned the car onto the street where they grew up.
“Parker?”
“Yeah, Mad?”
“You think there’s a guy out there who’ll ever get me like you all do?”
“’Course there is. But he’s smart enough to stay in hiding.”
Or maybe she’d settle for second best. Or maybe her date on Tuesday would work out. They’d get married and have lots of babies and live happily-enough ever after. Her family would spoil her kids, who would grow up and change the world.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the readout, then answered it. “Hey, G. What’s up?”
Gina’s voice was high and tight. Panic mode. “Fucking nitwits took Gerard down with a denial of service attack, and Hugh’s not looking so good either.”
Gerard. The server that hosted MisterGoodEnough.com. And Hugh, the backup. Maddie gave Parker the hurry up signal. “Who did it?” Asking why wasn’t necessary. She shot a death glare up at the sky. Damn Cupid, and damn his misguided earthly minions.
“Working on it. The boogers sent us enough hits to light up a porn site for a month. I’m pulling all the guys down and getting a new IP and I swear to God when I find the orcs responsible for turning what’s left of my weekend to shit I’m gonna have my level twenty-two battle mage cast a fireball up their asses.”
Gina could sling as many fireballs as she wanted, but Maddie suspected until some good came of the Web site, they would keep having problems. “Any chance this is random?”
Parker slid the SUV to a stop in front of their parents’ house. Maddie gave him a thank-you wave and shot out the door, heading toward her own car as she searched her pockets for her keys.
The sign in the neighbor’s yard caught her eye. God Gives More Than Good Enough.
Yeah, she knew who did it.
“You ever see a virtual tar-and-feathering?” Gina said.
Finding Mr. Good Enough had never been fully personal, but now Maddie’s reputation and business were front and center. If they couldn’t prove there was good in helping losers find love, and fast, their whole business was doomed.
TRENT SAT in his truck bed and stared up at the stars. Millions and millions of twinkling lights dotted the sky. Even with the partial obstructions from the trees, it was a better view than anything he got in Atlanta. Scary thing was, he was starting to think the view wasn’t the only thing better here. As long as he stayed out of any buildings his relatives had ever lived in, the air was clearer. The cooler temperatures were a refreshing change from the stifling heat of Atlanta. He’d had to dig out an old college sweatshirt from the bottom of his bag.
But a couple of things were missing. His peace of mind, for one. A friend, for another. Maddie’d hit a nerve earlier. Damn woman had hit a lot of nerves, but the one that tweaked tonight kept hollering for him to call a friend.
Or maybe that was his conscience.
He and Ella were over. He knew that. But he owed her an explanation. And maybe he was fooling himself by thinking she’d still care to talk to him at all, but he was lonely. Of all the people in the world who knew him, she probably knew him best after Linda. So he flipped his phone open and hit her speed dial number.
Crickets and other night bugs chirped. Four rings carried through his phone, then five. He waited for her voice mail to pick up, but instead he heard a click, then a faint, “Hello?”
“Hey, Ella, it’s me.”
There was a pause, and while he didn’t sense the regret he expected, he could still see her, maybe sitting on their leather sofa, tucking her feet underneath her while she decided whether she wanted to talk to him.
“Hi,” she said finally.
He dropped his head back against his toolbox. “This a bad time?”
The crickets and locusts chirped louder, then softer. “No.”
Over the din of the night bugs, silence stretched between them. The weird thing was, the silence felt normal.
Trent cleared his throat. “I wanted to apologize.”
She gave a little sigh. “Trent—”
“That’s all I’m asking. Just a chance to say I’m sorry. I think I owe you that.”
She went so quiet, he pulled the phone away from his ear to make sure they were still connected. Signal was strong, phone call still running, so he put the phone back to his ear. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I looked you up on the Internet,” she said softly. “Am I supposed to be sorry about your mom?”
He hadn’t decided if he was supposed to be sorry about his mom. “My aunt Linda could probably use your prayers more right now.”
“Andi’s mom?” she pressed.
He swallowed hard. She’d looked him up good. “Yeah.”
“Cancer too?”
“No. She’s—” She was what? Crazy? He cleared his throat. “Let’s call it a nervous condition.”
She gave a sad little laugh, one that should’ve been a sucker punch to his conscience, but instead was just a minor twinge on the guilt Richter scale. “I suppose having a nephew come back from the dead would give that kind of condition to someone.”
Jesus, she knew about that too? “Pretty thorough Internet search.”
They were both silent for a while before Ella broke through the crickets again. “Are you really Trent Sawyer?”
Horribly legitimate question, that one. “Yeah.” From what he’d been able to piece together, some other guy with his name truly had died in a crash in Vegas. Trent’s old man had come across the notice, and whether he believed it was Trent, or whether he just wanted one last chance to remind everyone that he was Trent Sawyer’s father, he’d made sure the whole town knew. Then he’d disappeared. Probably went off to find somebody else’s coattails to make a name on, if Trent knew his old man.
At least the bastard had been gone before the town had decided to erect the damn memorial.
“We were never right, were we?” She didn’t sound angry or indignant or even betrayed. She would’ve gotten it. She lived it, and he hadn’t ever had the courage to tell her about his parents or Linda or Andi. If he’d been her, he’d have been so mad he wouldn’t have been able to think.
She just sounded a little sad.
“No,” he said slowly, “I don’t think we were.”
Something inside him loosened. Something he’d been carrying around so long, he didn’t even realize it was there. But she was correct.
They hadn’t been right. Not for what they were supposed to be.
“I—” he started, but she cut him off.
“You were everything my parents always wanted for me.” She took an audible breath. “But I think it’s time I figure out what I want for me, you know?”
He wasn’t sure about the parent thing, but he figured it was about time he started looking beyond finding someone who could fill the hole Andi left, and instead figure out how to build a life over it. “Suppose I do.”
She gave a sniffly laugh. “This is where we’re supposed to promise to be friends.”
“How about we just wish each other well.”
“Probably more honest.”
They talked a few more minutes, working out minor details about splitting up their stuff and rent payments until the lease was up, then said good-bye.
Long after they’d hung up, Trent sat clutching his phone.
He’d called a friend.
Now he kinda wanted to do it again.
But given the look on her face when she’d walked away from Linda’s apartment this afternoon, he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Nor was he sure she’d call herself a friend.
And it irritated him that that felt like a bigger loss than breaking up with his girlfriend of six years.