17. Lizzie
SEVENTEEN
LIZZIE
I almost didn’t hear the knock. Frowning, I glanced toward the hallway as if I’d suddenly developed X-ray vision and could see through walls and doors to figure out who had just rapped on my door. Then my phone buzzed, and a name popped up on my screen.
Sean
It’s me.
My heart gave a lurch. I stepped down the hallway and pulled the door open, half-expecting to see someone else on the other side.
“What are you doing here?”
“Kids still awake?”
“Just went down,” I said, then checked my watch. A few minutes past ten. “Did the date not go well?”
“It went fine,” Sean said, brushing past me as he walked in.
I frowned as he kicked his shoes off and ambled down the hallway like he owned the damn place. Closing and locking the door with a quick flick of my fingers, I hurried after him. “So what are you doing here? Did you not like her?”
“I liked her just fine. You want a drink?” He grabbed an opened bottle of white from my fridge door and lifted it toward me.
“Did I just hit my head and forget that this is actually your house and not mine?” I planted my hands on my hips and glared at him. “What are you doing here?”
He dangled the bottle so the wine sloshed, brows raised.
I relented. “I use that for cooking. It’s old. Open one of those.” I waved my hand at the wine rack in the corner where I kept my stash. If he wanted to treat this place as his own, he could open the bottle and pour the drinks.
Long fingers curled around the bottle in the bottom slot of the rack, and Sean pulled it out and tilted it toward the light to read the label. His jaw was sharp, the shadow of his cheekbone stark. He was all angles, and he made no sense.
“You still haven’t told me why you’re here.”
“Figured I’d check in on you and the kids.”
“The kids and I are fine.”
He twisted the top of the bottle off—I wasn’t some sort of cork-only purist—and poured two glasses. “Did Mikey behave himself?”
“Mikey is a dream,” I said as I accepted the glass he pushed across the island toward me. “We made gingerbread. I hope you don’t mind, I told Mikey he could help us decorate them tomorrow if you agreed.” I walked to the corner of the kitchen, where the slabs of gingerbread were cooling on wire racks.
Sean wandered over, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body next to my shoulder. “I don’t mind,” he said quietly. “I really appreciate how generous you are with your time. How easily you include Mikey. It means a lot, Lizzie. Really.”
The compliment made me want to squirm, but not in a bad way. It was rare for someone to see all the work I did and actually appreciate it. I was the designated babysitter in the family, and most of the time I enjoyed spending time with the kids. But there were times—like this year’s Thanksgiving—when I wished people saw me as more than just the built-in, default childcare. Times that my family’s treatment felt uncomfortably close to Isaac’s. I’d been invisible to my ex-husband for years, and I sometimes wondered if I was invisible to everyone else too.
But not to Sean. He stood in my kitchen, looking at me like a few batches of gingerbread meant the world to him.
“It’s nothing,” I said, and waved a hand. “Tell me about your date. Are you going to see Laurel again?”
“No.”
“No?”
He swallowed a sip of wine and set his glass down on the counter. “No.”
There was a strange mix of relief and disappointment in my gut. The relief, I knew, was ridiculous. That came from the fact that I was attracted to him, and I needed to get over it pronto. The disappointment made more sense. I was proud of my knack for matchmaking, and I didn’t like misjudging the people I set up. “What happened? You didn’t like her?”
“She was great. We just didn’t click.”
“Didn’t click.”
“That’s what I said.”
I frowned at him. “In what way?”
He spread his arms in a slow shrug. “I didn’t get butterflies when she smiled at me.”
Snorting, I lifted my glass to my lips. “And does that happen to you often?”
He eyed me for a long second. “Sometimes.”
In another life, I might have thought he was trying to tell me something. But in another life, I wouldn’t be a woman who’d never shed her baby weight, who’d been left by her husband, who’d been relegated to default babysitter because that’s all anyone saw in her.
All the evidence for the past decade told me that a man like Sean Hardy would never be interested in me. Believing otherwise was just setting myself up for disappointment. Even after my divorce, when I’d most needed the support of my family, they’d poked holes in my self-confidence and asked me if I was sure I could handle life and the kids on my own.
Their questions were valid. Being a single mom was hard. But what I’d needed then was unwavering belief. For that, I’d had to dig deep inside myself.
So thinking about opening myself up to a man like Sean—no. Not a man like Sean. Thinking about opening myself up to Sean was a terrifying prospect. It was like digging up the foundations I’d spent so long building on my own. It was opening the gates and letting a gigantic Trojan horse enter right into the heart of my inner fortress.
I couldn’t afford to be vulnerable when I knew that the only person who’d be there to pick up the pieces was me.
I took a gulp of wine and set my glass down. “Fine. First date was a bust. But you gotta give me something to work with. Be specific. What are you looking for in a woman?”
“Up until I got strong-armed into going on this date, I wasn’t looking for a woman at all.”
I ran my fingers up the stem of my glass and studied him. “I’m sorry if you felt pressured into it. Truth be told, I felt pressured into setting you up too.” I gave him a small smile. “We can just drop the whole thing. If you’re not ready to date, you’re not ready to date. I get that.”
The relief sweeping through me became harder to ignore. I’d spent the evening distracting myself with the noises of the children playing, with taking on an ambitious gingerbread house project on a whim, with cleaning up the disaster that was made of the kitchen afterward.
But the truth was, I’d been thinking about Sean and Laurel together. A beautiful, attractive couple who made sense together. I’d imagined them hitting it off and ending up at his house—or hers. I’d imagined opening the door in the morning and seeing Sean’s hair freshly washed, knowing why he had to take a shower.
And I’d felt sick.
Maybe it was simply because it had been so long since I’d been attracted to a man. But I couldn’t have chosen a more appropriate man to remind me that I was a woman with needs beyond eating and sleeping? It had to be my brother’s best friend? It had to be the kid who practically grew up at our house, who ruffled my hair and teased me, who would never in a million years betray Aaron by dating me, even if he wanted to?
Sean let out a long sigh and leaned against the sink. He ran a broad hand over his short hair and shrugged. “It’s not that I’m not ready to date,” he finally admitted. “I think I am ready. Laurel just wasn’t the one. She wasn’t New Year’s kiss material for me.”
My gulp of wine turned sour in my mouth, but I hid it by swallowing hard and nodding. “Right.”
“What about you?”
I frowned. “What about me?”
“Have you dated since your divorce?”
A harsh laugh fell from my lips. “Me? No.”
“Why is that funny?”
I wanted to say, Look at me. Do I look like dating material to you? But I knew that would sound pathetic, like I was fishing for compliments. So I just shrugged and said, “I wanted to put my kids first.”
“I know how that feels.”
The bitterness in my heart faded, and I met Sean’s gaze. I smiled sadly. “No matter how well you co-parent with an ex, there’s still a lot of juggling to do.”
“I was lucky,” he said. “Melody has always been career-focused, so she was happy to give me primary custody.”
“Oh?”
Sean smiled. “Don’t look so horrified. She wasn’t a bad mother. I think… I think she felt pressured into having a kid.”
“By you?”
“Partly. We’d always talked about having kids, but it was always later. In a few years. The time was never right. She was always on the verge of a big promotion, in the middle of a big project, on the cusp of her next big jump. I felt the years slipping away. Her parents badgered her about it with nearly every conversation they had with her. I think that’s what got to her in the end.”
“They wanted grandkids.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Is that why things didn’t work out between you?”
Sean ran his fingers along the base of his glass and took a sip before answering. He walked back to the other side of the island and topped up his glass before passing the bottle over to me to do the same. “She cheated on me at a company event.” He cleared his throat. “At the company Christmas party, actually. We tried counseling, but I just couldn’t forgive her, and I think she resented me too much.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
His eyes landed on me. “What about you? What happened with your kids’ dad?”
“He had an affair with a coworker as well,” I said, then shook my head. “I mean, it was never physical, or at least he swore up and down they never slept together. But they got close. She was his ‘work wife.’ They started working late together, calling and texting daily.” I gulped and stared at the liquid in my glass, trying not to let my thoughts spiral back to those dark years, to the moment of discovery that had sent me sprinting for the toilet so I could get sick. “Our marriage just—deteriorated. He stopped caring, and I guess I was in denial. In the aftermath, when they finally got together, I felt like the emotional affair hurt worse than a one-night stand would’ve done. I would’ve preferred for him to sleep with her, for it to just be about sex. But he told me he fell out of love with me and into love with her.”
When I realized what I’d said, I clamped my lips shut and jerked my head up to meet Sean’s gaze. “I didn’t mean—I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to minimize what you went through. I—forget I said anything.”
“Lizzie, stop.” He shook his head. A few feet of distance separated us, but it felt like if there hadn’t been a piece of marble between us, he would’ve crossed the distance and wrapped me in his arms. More evidence of my endless delusions. Sean smiled sadly. “For what it’s worth, I think they’re as bad as each other. I drove myself crazy imagining her with another man. But if she’d fallen in love with someone else right in front of me…” A harsh breath blew out of his nostrils. “I don’t know how I would’ve reacted. It would’ve been worse. It would’ve made me question everything about myself, about our relationship. I’m sorry he did that to you.”
Silence settled around us, but it wasn’t the uncomfortable, tense silence that I would normally rush to fill. It was like a still summer day, where silence felt like the sun’s rays on bare skin.
When my marriage had shattered, the fact that Isaac hadn’t had sex with his coworker was something he threw in my face at every opportunity. How could I be so upset about the betrayal, when he hadn’t even done anything with her? What was I even upset about? It wasn’t like he’d cheated on me. I was unreasonable, emotional, and ridiculous.
Over time, as our fights became more frequent and divorce reared its ugly head, I began to believe his words. And I heard the same thing from my family and friends. They said it like it was a good thing: at least he hadn’t slept with her. At least he’d remained faithful.
But it wasn’t until that moment—with my fingers clasping the stem of my cheap wine glass and a kind, thoughtful, generous man standing in front of me telling me he would’ve felt the same way—that I realized my feelings were valid.
It was a betrayal. It was deep, cutting duplicity from the man who’d vowed to stand by my side forever. He let me take care of the home and children, let me struggle to contribute to the finances while I took on the lion’s share of the housework, and he went elsewhere to get his ego stroked.
The life I’d worked so hard to build with him had been a lie. And then I’d had to rebuild my idea of a future all by myself, with two young kids to take care of, with lawyers’ bills and a new job and all the disappointed clucking of everyone who told me I’d overreacted.
But I hadn’t . I’d been right to be mad. I’d been right to be hurt.
“Thank you,” I croaked, and dragged my gaze up to his.
“For what?”
“For saying that. For making me feel like it was okay for me to be upset.”
His lips curled slightly, but his eyes were sad. “We definitely sound like two people who are ready to get back on the dating horse.”
I laughed, and a snort came out, which made me laugh harder. The sound of Sean’s chuckle wrapped around me like a warm hug, and when we finally quieted down, he grabbed the bottle and topped up our glasses again. It was going down way too easy, so I forced myself to slow down.
“So,” he said. “Why do you get to have all the fun matchmaking? How about you tell me about your ideal man.”
Oh no. Definitely not. We were not going there. That way lay dragons, and my sword and armor were unfortunately rusty as all hell. The wine in my bloodstream wasn’t helping. I deliberately pushed my glass away and gave him a flat look. “That’s not how this works. You tell me why you think Laurel wasn’t a fit, and we’ll go from there.”
“A truth for a truth,” he hedged, eyes sparkling.
This way lay dragons too. Oh boy. Apparently I was in a mood for danger, because I said, “He’s got to like kids. Not just tolerate them. He’s got to know that my kids mean everything. If the kids don’t like him, he’s out.”
Sean inclined his head. “She has to know how to laugh at herself.”
I reared back. “And Laurel doesn’t? Her middle name is self-deprecation!”
“I wasn’t talking about Laurel,” Sean answered, grinning. “I told you. There was no spark.”
“She’s hot. How could there be no spark?”
He shrugged, his gaze holding mine. “There just wasn’t, Lizzie.”
There were a whole lot of sparks in the pit of my stomach when he said my name in that low, rumbly voice. I wrestled myself back under control and went through my mental list of potential matches. Cindy had been my second choice for him. “Okay. How do you feel about dating a single mom?”
His eyes never left mine when he said, “I’m open to it.”
The sparks turned into a full-on inferno and moved between my legs. Uh-oh.
I forced myself to nod in a businesslike manner. “Good. Give me something else.”
“You first.”
“This isn’t how this works, Sean.”
His smile widened as he swirled his wine in his glass. “What if I like it when your cheeks get all red and flushed?”
He had to stop saying things like that to me. I was getting all kinds of ideas that would only lead me to a sad, broken heart later on. I tried to glare at him. “I hate my cheeks.”
He jerked. “What? Why? I love your cheeks.”
I blinked rapidly and felt the prickling of even more blood flowing into my face. “Stop it, Sean. You’re being very difficult.” I needed to get this conversation back on track. “Okay. How about you tell me about the last woman you were attracted to?”
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Then he took a sip of his wine and stared at the glass for a while before finally meeting my gaze. “She was kind. Thoughtful. Really funny without even trying. Sometimes I felt like I was the only one who noticed her, which made me feel like I was carrying this illicit secret around with me all the time.”
My heart thumped. Part of me felt like he was describing me. But most of me just felt sad that I was so hopelessly attracted to a man who obviously would never date me. Why else would he be asking me to set him up with other women?
Kind and funny without trying. I focused on his words, and an idea sparked. “You should meet Astrid,” I forced myself to say.
He was quiet for a second, then seemed a bit resigned when he inclined his head and said, “Tell me about her.”