Mr. Imperfect

chapter 38

July

Rori wasn’t quite sure how she and Mike ended up talking so often, but somehow there was always an excuse for a call. She waited for him to call first, of course. Mike was certainly the king of random questions that somehow turned out to be insightful. But Rori had learned that if she sent him a few texts on the nights he didn’t call, that he would call rather than respond to multiple texts.

Mike Cannon was a talker, not a texter. And once the two of them started talking, the call usually went late into the night—especially for Rori, since her time zone was two hours ahead of his.

In the past Rori had always worked in silence or put on a playlist to get her in the right head space. It turned out for this project, however, that Mike’s voice was the perfect soundtrack no matter which piece she was working on. It didn’t really matter what he said. For some reason Rori was just more focused and less stressed with his sexy voice in her ear and images of his body in her mind. It was her new version of a cup of coffee.

But she still had to sleep on occasion.

“I should probably go,” Rori said, looking at the clock. She should be asleep, but somehow she wasn’t tired. Hormones were amazing like that. Sleep always came in second. “I teach tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Mike said on the other side of the line. “Didn’t mean to keep you up.”

Part of her panicked when she realized Mike was going to let her go. Yes, she needed to sleep, but she also wasn’t done hearing his voice yet.

“No problem,” she said. “But before I go…” She didn’t really have an ending to that sentence.

“Yeah?” he prompted.

Rori scrambled, trying to find something to ask him. “Uh, I know we never talk about it because of the awkward factor, but how are Luke and your sister doing? They happy?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment of hesitation. “They really are. And I’m getting used to him draping his arm around her in public. I almost popped him a few times.”

Rori laughed. “Old habits die hard, I’m sure.”

“Yeah. Pretty much. But I’ve never seen my sister so happy, so what do you do?”

“You let them find their way, because they’re going to do it with or without your help anyway.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Mike said, then hesitated.

Hesitation was good. Hesitation meant he didn’t want to say goodbye. It meant—

“How about you?” he asked. “Are you finding your way in that arena? Has your matchmaker sent over anyone interesting?”

Rori felt her stomach clutch, fighting the urge to lie to him. For weeks they had been able to avoid this particular topic, but it seemed like Mike wasn’t going to skirt the subject with her anymore. “Yes, actually. A very strong candidate.”

“Yeah?” He sounded honestly interested. Not jealous. Interested. “You like him?”

“Well, I haven’t met him personally yet.”

“But he has a good portfolio?” Mike asked, his voice inquisitive and neutral.

For a moment Rori didn’t trust herself to respond as anger washed through her. Why? She wasn’t sure, but the sensation was intense and left a bitter taste in her mouth. She cleared her throat to buy time. “Yes, actually. Plus he is fairly handsome, which is always a bonus.”

“Of course,” he agreed, voice still sounding amiable. “A New Yorker?”

“No, he’s French,” Rori said. “Titled. A gentleman.”

“And what business industry is he in?”

“Wine.”

“Nice,” Mike said, sounding pleased. “Luxurious, a lot of travel to vineyards around the world. Plus wine and art go hand in hand.”

“Yes,” Rori said, not mentioning the fact that Sophia had said almost the exact same thing when she’d sent over Anton’s portfolio. “As far as I can tell he’s a perfect match, but I’ll know more when we meet in a few weeks.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Meeting someone in person can make all the difference.”

Now what did he mean by that? “It definitely can. But in this case I doubt it will. The background check is quite extensive, so there isn’t a whole lot of mystery to him at this point.”

“Huh,” Mike said, sounding thoughtful. “So you can answer personal questions about him based on his profile?”

“Sure,” Rori said. “That’s kind of the point of them.”

“Like how much money he makes?”

“Yes.”

“And what kind of food he likes?”

“Page one.”

“Whether he likes cats or dogs?”

“He doesn’t like either, but he does have stables and an equestrian ring.”

“Nice,” Mike said. “Food allergies?”

“None,” Rori replied.

“Favorite car?”

“He has an affinity for Mercedes.”

“Favorite sport?”

“Polo.”

“Number of sexual partners?”

Well, he’d slid into that one quite nicely. “He’s been around.” And around. The number was actually a bit staggering, but they were in the past and he was clean of STDs, so what could Rori balk at?

“Favorite designer?” he asked.

What? He was just going to move on after that? He wasn’t going to dig deeper? Seek out Anton’s flaws, or even ask his name?

“Yes,” she said, letting frustration sound her voice. “I know all these things, just like he knows all these things about me.”

That got his attention. “Really? He knows how many guys you’ve slept with?”

“Yes,” Rori said. “That’s disclosed, along with all my other information. But really, the main focus of the portfolios deal with future goals and spousal expectations.”

“Huh. Like what?”

Her heart picked up its pace a notch, and she licked her lips before responding. “Well, for example, my expectations center mainly around the number of children I would like and the paternal commitment I expect.”

He didn’t respond for a moment. “Did you say ‘paternal commitment’?”

“Of course,” Rori said, trying to keep her voice prim even as she started fidgeting with her ring. “What other reason is there to get married except for the sake of children?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Mike said slowly. “So I guess that means you’re ready for kids then?”

Rori didn’t need to think about that one. “Yes. Definitely. And I’m looking for a man who’s ready for the same thing.”

Silence. Apparently Mike had nothing to say to that.

“Just… right away?” he said. “No waiting? No acclimating for a year or two before bringing a baby into the situation?”

For some reason hearing that he was flustered pleased her. “Why wait if the commitment is in place?”

“Because you’re young!” Mike said without hesitation. “Most girls your age want to wait a bit—live a little.”

“I’ve lived plenty, Mike,” Rori said, keeping her voice calm, as she picked up a brush and moved to one of her oils. “More than most people do in a lifetime, and I’m ready to share that and all I have with children. I understand that most people our age aren’t at that stage yet. Men traditionally want children later in life, which is why Anton hasn’t wanted children until now, and he’s forty-three.”

“Almost twenty years older?” he asked. “He could be your dad.”

“He could,” she conceded. “But he’s also ready to be a responsible dad, and that’s more the point. Guys like you want five, maybe ten more years of freedom, and it’s wrong to ask you to sacrifice that before you’re ready to. It’s a huge contributor to divorce. But I’m ready now, so I need a guy who’s ready now. It’s really that simple.”

“Okay,” he drawled, then paused. “I get that, I guess. What I don’t get is how stuck you are on not having a romantic connection—or at least it seems that way. Why treat the whole situation like a business contract?”

Rori stopped mid-stroke, then quickly finished the stroke before putting her brush down. “Because that’s what it is to a degree. We’ve been over this, Mike. I know it’s weird for you, but—”

“I know, but it’s like you’re avoiding a personal connection on purpose. I don’t know how to explain it, but—”

“You get the sense that I’m trying not to let my hormones make the decision of who I mate with?”

“I, uh, well, yeah, I guess.”

Rori allowed herself a smile. She’d flustered Mike at last. Whether her mention of “hormones” or “mate” had done the trick, she wasn’t sure, but it felt nice to have him twitching on the line. She reached for her glass of wine, happy to reward herself with a sip.

“It’s just that Kris is a big believer in the roles of hormones in mating,” he said. “She believes that sexual response is an indicator on the part of the female of her genetic compatibility with the male.”

Rori’s hand stopped half way to the glass. “Is that so?”

“According to her,” he said, sounding both confident and uneasy at the same time. It made Rori wish she could see his face. “I’m pretty sure she could write a dissertation on the subject.”

“Even though divorce rates sit at fifty percent after people marry people they are sexually attracted to on the onset?”

“Ah, but are they just attracted to them, or do they sexually respond to them in spite of what their eyes do or do not like about them?”

Rori blinked, taking another sip of wine. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s her angle?”

“That it’s all in the kiss,” he said simply.

Rori let out a bark of laughter and took another sip. “You’re sister thinks a girl knows the man for her based on a kiss? Man, she really was a virgin, wasn’t she?”

“I, uh, wouldn’t pretend to know.”

Oh, this was getting fun. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’re probably still trying to pretend that she and Luke are up playing Scrabble at night.”

“I wish,” he groaned. “They’re pretty happy to leave me with no illusions on that front.”

“No mercy?” Rori asked, taking another swallow and enjoying the warmth that spread through her.

“None,” Mike said. “Including mention of how much the taste of Luke gets her motor running and how that’s a predictor of healthy children.”

Rori’s nose wrinkled. “Taste? Are you serious?”

“Well, Kris is. That’s for sure. According to her, the number one thing a woman should look for when picking the father of her children is to have his taste be one of her favorite flavors.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“If it’s disgusting, then you shouldn’t be mating with that guy, according to Kris. If you don’t like the taste of a guy’s skin, his mouth—if you don’t like the viscosity of his spit and the taste of his spit and his, uh, other fluids make you gag a little, then you are not good genetic matches for creating children. If she were telling you this she would site studies and list examples of other mammals doing similar acts of tasting when they come in season. Trust me, I’m letting you off easy here, but I guess that’s why I have the question I have. If everything is so practical with you, why not find a man who is the best biological match for you, rather than a guy with the most money.”

Rori blinked, processing that as she swirled her wine in its glass.

“Did I lose you?”

“Oh, no. I’m still here,” she said, bringing her glass up to her nose and inhaling. “So you’re suggesting that I lick Anton before I agree to have his children?”

This time Mike laughed. “At a minimum. I couldn’t marry a woman I didn’t like to lick.”

She could imagine it all too easily. Mike’s tongue on the underside of her breast and moving up. The mental image alone had Rori downing the rest of her wine in one swallow. “Well, I’m sure Anton tastes just fine.”

“But you still haven’t answered the question.”

“Which question?” she asked, eyeing the bottle across the room.

“Why you seem to want to avoid anything personal or romantic about your relationship with your husband before you get married.”

Yeah, she definitely needed a little more wine. Rori started across the room. “Feelings cloud judgment.”

“Or sometimes feelings can make things clear that would otherwise not be.”

“No,” she said, reaching the bottle and tipping it over her glass.

“No? It’s because of your feelings that you want to have kids right now, right?”

Her hand stopped pouring. “Excuse me?”

“You want kids. That’s a feeling, right? And since it’s a feeling, by your own logic, it could thereby be clouding your judgment in choice of fathers. You don’t care about personal compatibility. All you care about is that the guy commits to stay and that he’s a strong provider. Is that because of your dad?”

Rori set the bottle down none too gently and picked up her glass again, draining it all before making her response. “No, Mike. Not everything comes down to daddy issues, okay?”

“Sorry if I overstepped,” Mike said quickly. “I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.”

“No, you’re just trying to get laid,” she laughed, letting the wine do some of the talking for her. “Trying to talk me into finding out if I like how you taste.”

To her surprised, he responded with an amused chuckle. “That would definitely take us out of the friend zone, but no. That’s not why I was saying that. I’m just saying that you think people’s judgment is clouded when they get married because they want to be together, but you don’t think your judgment is clouded because you want children, and are fixed on the idea of having them with a man you’re not in love with. I’m just asking why.”

Rori tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling and trying to decide on an answer as she set her glass down and just picked up the bottle of wine next to it. Why even pretend she wasn’t going to finish it? Even if she didn’t answer the question, he’d still opened the door with his question. Whether she said it out loud or not, the answer was still in her mind.

She could use that bottle right about now.

“You don’t have to answer, of course,” he added. “It just strikes me as strange, that’s all.”

“Of course,” she agreed, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “In your mind I should be one of those girls in a line, trying to get into your pants and trying to give you a hand job in the middle of a restaurant.”

“No, I’m not saying—”

“Oh, c’mon!” she mocked, bringing the bottle with her as she crossed over to the loveseat. “Don’t deny it. Sydney was totally going for it under the table that day.”

He hesitated. And while hesitated, Rori took a drink. “Well, yeah. But it didn’t get too far.”

“Yeah,” she said, plopping down. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around that one, Mike. You say you didn’t sleep with her. Why not? She was nothing but green lights for you.”

“I, uh, think that’s my business.”

“You mean like who I marry is my business?”

“I guess so,” he said. “Look, clearly I’ve overstepped. And apparently I’ve stepped on sensitive ground, so how about we both just call it a night and I let you get to sleep?”

She laughed bitterly then, even as she opened herself to the warmth the alcohol was starting to spread in her. The comfort. It felt nice. “Just walk away when things aren’t easy breezy—when the girl isn’t doing all the work and it’s just not fun anymore, it’s time to go, right Mike? And because you feel weird, when you think about calling tomorrow, you won’t. You’ll tell yourself that you think I need space when it’s really you who’s uncomfortable and trying to avoid conflict. Right?”

He didn’t respond right away, so she plowed on.

“And this is just a stupid conversation. Nothing even all that serious. But it’s still enough to send a nice guy like you running. Why? Because emotions freak guys out, and when guys are freaked out by emotions they run away and find a new, shallow relationship. And even knowing all that, you’re here quizzing me on why I want my marriage to be an agreement before it’s a relationship. Well, here’s a case in point, Mike. When the relationship comes first, reason is trumped by feelings and people get stupid.”

“Rori?” he said cautiously. “Are you drinking?”

“So what if I am?” she shot back.

“Just checking. And for the record, I’m not uncomfortable with the conversation. I thought you were.”

She laughed, then chugged the bottle before debating whether she should open another.

“Look, I’ll drop the subject, okay?” he said. “You’re right. It’s none of my business who you marry. I was just trying to understand why you’re so afraid of falling in love and divorce. It’s like you’ve been married before, or something. That’s all.”

“Not married,” she said, closing her eyes again the images that popped up in her head. “Look, Mike, I need a few more minutes and a few more drinks before I’m drunk enough to blame what I’m about to do on alcohol, but I’m going to do it anyway, okay? Because you asked. And when you asked, you opened the door. And if I don’t tell you, I’m going to be up all night, staring at the ceiling and reliving this conversation over and over again in my mind. So are you ready?”

“I think so,” Mike said. “But Rori, if you don’t want to—”

“I know, I know,” she said over him. “You’re just the nice guy who opened the door for me. I don’t have to walk through it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Mike? Shut up, will you? I’m about to tell you a deep, dark secret only the oldest of my friends know.”

She could have heard a pin drop on his side of the line. “Okay.”

Closing her eyes, Rori took a deep breath. Was she really going to do this? Apparently she was, and she was pretty sure she didn’t want to examine her motives very closely.

“I believed in love once,” she said at length. “I really did. When I met Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome I was fifteen years old and he was nineteen. It was in Italy, and he everything a girl could ask for in a prince. Rich, with villas and cars, swimming pools that overlooked the ocean, and a lean swimmer’s body that looked delicious in a swimming suit. The guy could have been a model, Mike. So hot, with eyes like chocolate and a mouth that always looked like he was thinking about kissing you. Polished, refined, rich, and totally sexy. We met at his father’s fashion show and it was love at first sight.”

She paused, wanting a reaction from him, but all she got was a, “Go on.” He didn’t sound the slightest bit put off or uncomfortable, and for some reason she really wanted him to be.

“I was a virgin when I met him, but that didn’t last long. Maybe because of what your sister was talking about, maybe it was just young and stupid, but once we kissed, I just couldn’t stop and he didn’t even try. He made me feel things I hadn’t even imagined before. My mother and I only stayed there for two weeks, but I’m pretty sure I spent half of those two weeks naked and discovering the capabilities of my own body, which seemed to be insatiable. No matter how many condoms Lorenz brought, we always ran out. And once we ran out, we were too stuck in the moment to fix the situation. Plus, I figured out real quick that sex was way better without the condom in the way. I know guys are usually the ones to complain about condoms, but I can tell you that I’m pretty sure girls hate them just as much if they’re in love with the guy. And with Lorenz I was smitten into stupidity. I knew unprotected sex could lead to pregnancy, but I was more worried about getting my period and having it ruin all the fun than I was about getting pregnant.”

She paused, mostly to mentally chide her younger self for the millionth time. So stupid.

“How long was it before you knew you were pregnant?” Mike asked softly, surprising her.

“Oh, my mom figured it out before I did,” Rori said, remembering the day too vividly in her mind. “When I went six weeks without depleting the tampon supply, she took me into a doctor had them run a test. It came back positive. I was fifteen and pregnant—something neither my mother nor I had imagined.”

“And how did your mom respond?”

Not the question she’d been expecting from him. “Well, she…um. Why does it matter?”

“Well, you must have been terrified, right? How your parents responded would be a big deal.”

No, this was going all wrong. Why was he being all sympathetic? He was supposed to be uncomfortable—weirded out.

“My father doesn’t know to this day,” she said. “Jean, my mom’s husband, might know. I don’t know. I’ve never asked and he’s never told.”

“So only your mom knows? What about Lorenz and his family? Did you tell them?”

“I did,” Rori said. “Which turned out to be a huge mistake on my part. As soon as my mom found out I was pregnant, her next step was to schedule an abortion for me. I was still young and in love, however, and somehow I thought that Lorenz and I would live happily ever after, and that the baby would only bring us closer together. So the second I had a chance, I got away from my mother and called Lorenz.”

She could feel Mike’s hesitation over the phone, thick and nervous. “Dare I ask?”

Rori laughed, the sound bitter even after all these years. “Well, I guess I’m too far into the story now to skip this part, right? The answer is that when he answered the phone he was all sweet talk and romance, but when I broke the news to him that he and I had made a baby, his first response was the same as my mom’s. He offered money—even recommended a hospital, as if this wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with the issue. When I told him no, he had it all wrong and I wanted to keep the baby, he grew quiet. He didn’t say anything for what seemed like forever, and when he did he said that fatherhood was not something he would be forced into, that he had no desire to see me again, and that if I had the baby he would offer me a settlement in exchange for the assurance that he was never in the same country as the child and that I never disclosed his name to the child.”

“Whoa,” Mike said.

Nothing more. Here she was pouring out her heart—telling him one of her darkest secrets—and all he could manage was a whoa? Men. What mean trick of nature was it that they were required for the continuation of the human species.

“Like any teenage girl, I was destroyed when he ended the call by insisting he never wanted to see me again. I swear I did nothing but lay in my bed a sob for a day. And when my mom came and told me to get into the car, I didn’t have the energy to fight her. And once we were at the clinic, I didn’t have to sign a document or anything. I was underage and in the country we were in only my mother’s consent was needed. All I had to do was pretend that nothing unusual was happening.”

“I… uh, don’t know what to say.”

“Yeah? Well, join the club. But the point of all this is that maybe some people have reasons for doing things the way they do. And maybe it’s not so weird that I want to start having babies at age twenty-five, because in my mind, anytime I allow myself to think about it, I know I should have a nine year old right now. And for some reason she’s always a girl with my crazy hair and Lorenz’s chocolate eyes. Sometimes she’s so real that I find myself missing her—missing someone that doesn’t exist, Mike. I know women deal with abortion in countless different ways. Maybe some women deal better when it’s their choice and not something they submit to in order avoid attaching scandal to their family’s name, but this is where I’m at, Mike. I want children, and I want a man who’s ready to have kids, too. And I want it to be a guy who is committed to them as I am, regardless of how he feels about me. Maybe it’s unorthodox, maybe it’s not up to your romantic standards, but after what happened with my parents and what happened with Lorenz, it’s what makes the most sense. So pardon me if I let your sister stick to her theory of finding guys she likes lick and sniff, while I stick to my theory of finding a man who shares my long-term goals, lifestyle, and approach to raising children.”

She ended on a bit of a bitter note, but it felt good. Yes, she had disclosed her abortion on her application with Sophia, but there was a bit of a difference between answering “one” to the question Number of abortions: on page five of a personality profile than actually telling the story. Okay, a huge difference. Rori hadn’t told anyone the story in years, and never a man.

Yet she’d just told Mike. And now that she had, she could confess to herself that she’d wanted to tell him. She wanted him to know—needed him to know so that he would do what needed to be done between them: create distance. A guy with Mike’s upbringing would be horrified at the idea of an abortion. Certainly no one in his family had had one. His sister had been a twenty-four year old virgin, for crying out loud.

After tonight Mike would never be able to look at her the same, and Rori just had to find a way not to resent him for that.

“You were right,” he said at length, confusing her.

“Of course I was.” She hesitated then. “About what?”

“Your approach to finding a husband does make sense for you. Your trust has been broken on so many levels, and you want to shield your future children from the same fate as much as you can. I get it now.”

Rori’s mouth fell open, mute. He was agreeing with her? Was he high?

“Well, I probably don’t get it get it. But I guess I probably understand as well as a guy can, even as part of me wants to hunt this Lorenz guy down and beat the shit out of him. And your mom, too—no offense. But there really aren’t words for how horribly she handled everything. You should have been the one to make the decision, one way or the other. That she just jumped in there and…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, which had Rori’s heart racing and her eyes tearing up for some reason.

“She acted in my best interest,” Rori justified.

“If you say so,” he snapped. “But forgive me if I choose to believe that she was really only thinking about herself and what she wanted.”

“Looking back—”

“No, I get it,” he said. “You’ve forgiven her. I’m sure I’ll get to a place where I don’t think she’s a horrible person, but in the meantime, thank you.”

“Thank you? For what?”

“For trusting me enough to tell me this,” he said, his voice sounding impossibly gentle. “I could tell it wasn’t easy for you.”

No, no, NO! This was not supposed to be his reaction. He was not supposed to be sweet about all this. He was supposed to freak! He was supposed to push away. He was supposed to see how fundamentally different they were and withdraw.

“People are never quite as simple as we think, are they?” he asked.

Rori fought back a laugh. “I guess not. You got any dark secrets you’re hiding away, Mr. Perfect?”

“Maybe another day,” he said with a smile in his voice.

“You mean there actually is one?”

“Or two,” he teased, somehow making the conversation feel normal again. “And since we’re now apparently at the trading dark secrets part of our friendship, I guess I’ll have to cough up one of them sooner rather than later.”

“You’ve got that right,” she teased. Or maybe it was more of a flirt. But if it was, it was unintentional.

“The point is that I get you better now and I promise I’ll stop giving you flack about your matchmaker. I get it—or at least I understand the situation well enough to stop being an ass about it.”

The comment should have been reassuring but part of Rori deflated.

“It’s one o’clock there now, so I should probably let you get some rest, but mind if I call you tomorrow?”

“You don’t need to call me tomorrow,” Rori said, looking at the clock and doing the mental math of how much sleep she’d get. Not enough—that was if she got any sleep at all. Here she’d just bared her soul to Mike and two minutes later he was saying goodbye? No matter what words were leaving his mouth, he was still running.

“Yeah, I kind of do,” he said cautiously. “Otherwise you’re going to go all girl on me and make up stories in your head about how I’m weirded out and avoiding you, and how you overshared and you’re stupid, and blah, blah, blah. It’s like an estrogen tailspin you girls do after an emotionally draining experience.”

Rori opened her mouth to answer, then shut it again. “Who the hell are you?” she said at last, earning a chuckle from him.

“I’m a guy who has been heavily coached by his sister over the years in the ways understanding the baffling mind of females.”

“Well, she’s good,” Rori said, pressing her hand to her chest and feeling the steady thud of her heart even as her throat choked up.

“So I’m going to call tomorrow. Maybe you pick up, maybe you don’t. That’s up to you. But we’re still friends, you and I. That’s the point. My only regret about tonight is that I can’t give you a hug right now or that someone isn’t there to give you one for me. I think you need one.”

“Okay, stop,” she said, more than a little serious. “A girl can only take so much sweetness before she swoons, and you’re approaching that line.” Approaching? Yeah, right. He’d passed it way back. In her mind she was hugging him all right. Then she was tilting her head up and pulling her mouth to his before letting her hands wander. The feel of him might only be her imagination, but damn, he felt good.

“Then I won’t tell you that I think you’re amazing. That would just be crossing the line,” he said.

Rori’s breath caught and she felt an actual tingle run through her. “Yeah, that might cross the line.”

“So I’ll stick with good night and see you tomorrow. How about that?”

“Right back at you,” Rori agreed.

“Night, Rori.”

“Night, Mike.”

Then he was gone, and Rori was left with one reoccurring thought: Oh, shit. What have I done?