Someone Like You: Wild Widows Series, Book 1 Read online

  “That was quick,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.

  “I told you I would be.”

  “My research has shown that the female version of quick often differs from the male version.”

  “Well, Patrick’s research has shown that I was forever making him late for everything, which drove him bananas because he was super punctual and hated being late.”

  “I’m the same way, and Vic was like you. I’d be in the car for ten minutes before she’d come breezing out like she had all the time in the world to get where she was going.”

  “Maybe I’m getting better about that. Five minutes in and out just now.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “What else did she do that you didn’t like?”

  “She was secretive about her past. At the time, I figured it was painful for her to think about losing her parents so young, but later I realized she was intentionally secretive. What about you? What else did he do that you didn’t like?”

  “He was messy. Always leaving his crap around. He’d come in from playing basketball, softball or touch football and leave his dirty shoes in the living room and his equipment right inside the door for days until I had to say something about it. I’m a neatnik, so that drove me crazy.”

  “Did he mind when you said something about it?”

  “Oh, no, never. He was always so good-natured. He’d just say, ‘Whoops, sorry, babe. Keep reminding me. I’ll grow up eventually.’” I’m sad that he never got the chance to finish growing up. “I used to chalk his messiness up to his brilliance. Like there wasn’t enough space in his brain for all the stuff he knew how to do and to clean up, too. I met a lot of people he worked with after he died, and they all said the same thing—smartest guy they’d ever met.”

  “That must’ve been nice to hear.”

  “It was, but I already knew it. I used to be intimidated sometimes by how smart he was about everything.”

  “I was intimidated by Vic’s easy way with people. She was so warm and friendly. You felt like you’d known her forever after a few minutes with her.”

  “You’re like that, too.”

  “I never used to be. I was much more remote and closed off to new people than I am since she died, and I found out quickly that keeping myself closed off was going to make for a very lonely existence.”

  “So you feel like you’ve changed a lot since you lost her?”

  “I doubt she’d recognize the person I am now.”

  I have so many questions about what he means by that, but we’ve arrived at his house, so I don’t get the chance to ask. He parks the SUV in a driveway that makes me envious. I’d love to have a driveway. I follow him to the back door that opens into a mudroom, where I kick off my boots and hang my coat on one of the open hooks.

  “Come in,” he says, leading the way into the kitchen, where we’re greeted by the shriek of a little girl happy to see her daddy after a long day apart.

  She runs to him, and he picks her up, giving her a tight hug that makes her squeak.

  “How’s my baby girl?”

  “Good,” she says, glancing at me over his shoulder.

  I waggle my fingers at her, and she hides her face in the crook of his neck.

  “Say hi to my friend Roni.”

  Maeve raises her head and says, “Hi,” before burying her face again.

  “Patrice, this is Roni. Roni, Patrice.”

  The nanny is in her early twenties, blonde, pretty and in a big hurry.

  “Hey,” I say, “nice to meet you.”

  “You, too,” Patrice says while managing to avoid looking at me. “I have to run to class.”

  “Say bye-bye to Patrice,” Derek says.

  “Bye-bye.”

  “See you tomorrow, pumpkin,” Patrice says as she hustles out of there.

  “Thanks, Patrice,” Derek calls after her as he puts down Maeve.

  She runs off to play in an adjoining room.

  “Was it something I said?” I ask Derek after the door slams shut behind Patrice.

  He pulls a pained expression. “She’s been different since I had to make it clear that our relationship is never going to be personal.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Maeve adores her and vice versa, and I pay her really well, so thankfully, she didn’t quit, but ugh… Messy.”

  “Does she think that I’m… That we’re… Uh…”

  “Don’t worry about that. I have a right to bring friends home.” As he says that, he pulls off his tie and releases the top two buttons on his dress shirt. “Ah, that’s always such a relief.” He tosses the tie over a kitchen chair. “What’re you doing, Maeve?”

  His daughter comes dashing into the kitchen, arms laden with stuffed animals.

  “Why don’t you introduce Roni to your friends while I make dinner?”

  I sit right on the kitchen floor and am treated to a delightful recitation of each animal’s name, some of which are words Maeve has clearly made up, because I’ve never heard them before. She speaks with a combination of actual words and gibberish, but I can understand most of what she’s trying to tell me.

  “So this guy is that guy’s daddy?” I ask her, holding up a bunny and a bear.

  She nods, her expression serious. “His mommy go to heben.”

  “Ah, I see.” I glance at Derek in time to see his jaw tighten with tension as he stirs something on the stove.

  Maeve moves right on past the moment as if it was nothing to her, which is a bit of a relief, actually. I shudder to think of this precious child’s mother being murdered and her being abducted. I want to put my arms around her and hug her tightly, but since I don’t want to frighten her, I resist that urge.

  “Let’s wash your hands for dinner, Miss Priss,” Derek says, lifting her off the floor and hurling her over his shoulder with a kind of practiced ease that impresses me. He’s great with her, and she obviously adores him. While I listen to their chatter in the bathroom, I arrange the stuffed animals in the corner of the kitchen.

  Maeve lights up with a smile when she sees where I’ve put her babies.

  Derek puts her into the high chair, ties a plastic bib around her neck and brings her dinner to her on a special plate that has sections that he’s filled with spiral pasta with no sauce, cut up meatball and peaches. He tops off the presentation with a sippy cup full of milk.

  “Now to cook for the adults,” he says, drizzling olive oil into a pan and adding precut peppers and onions. When they’ve cooked some, he adds shrimp.

  “Do you actually prep for meals ahead of time?”

  “I do it on Sundays for the whole week.”

  “That’s incredibly impressive.”

  He shrugs off the compliment. “It’s out of necessity. She’s ready to eat the minute I come home, so by having things prepared ahead of time, I save myself from dinnertime meltdowns while she waits for me to cook. Trust me, I’ve learned every parenting lesson the hard way.”

  “You’re like the Yoda of single dads.”

  “Oh my God, please,” he says, laughing. “I’m so far from that, it’s not even funny.” He glances over at Maeve. “Are you eating or playing?”

  “Eating,” she replies with a big grin.

  When he smiles at her, I melt on the inside.

  He’s sweet, kind, thoughtful, compassionate, smart, successful and obviously a wonderful father. If I’m not careful, my low-burn crush is going to turn into a wildfire I’m not ready for.

  The dinner he serves to me is simple but delicious. He’s tossed the shrimp, onions and peppers over linguine with a light butter sauce.

  He retrieves the parmesan cheese from the fridge and puts it on the table next to me. “That’s the secret ingredient.”

  “Ah, gotcha.” I shake some on top of my food and take a bite. “Wow, that’s really good.”

  Derek brings his plate and a glass of ice water for me to the table.

  “I brought wine for you,” I suddenly recall. �
�I left it in the mudroom.”

  “I’ll grab it.”

  He brings a wineglass and corkscrew with him when he finally sits at the table.

  “Maeve done.”

  “Maeve can wait until Daddy eats to get up.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “That’s her all-time favorite word.”

  He manages to take a few bites before she starts to seriously fuss about getting out of her seat.

  “Sorry, this is her cranky time of day. It’s almost bedtime.”

  “No need to apologize. I get cranky at bedtime, too.” The words are no sooner out of my mouth than I’m wondering if I should’ve said them. It’s so strange to be with someone new, even if he’s just a new friend, and have to worry about everything I say and do. Although, with Derek, I don’t worry too much.

  He gets up to fix her a tiny bowl of ice cream and brings it to her, buying himself a few more minutes to wolf down his dinner.

  “Straight to the tub with you, my grubby little girl,” he says when he finally lifts her from the high chair. “We’ll be quick.”

  “Take your time. I’ll clean up.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can do it later.”

  “I’ve got it.”

  “Say night-night to Roni.”

  “Night,” Maeve says, popping her thumb in her mouth, her eyes heavy and ready for sleep.

  “I’ll be back in a few.”

  He carries her upstairs, the sound of his chatter and her giggles following them. As I clean up the kitchen, I can hear water running and more happy conversation between the two of them. I wasn’t kidding before when I told him I’m super impressed with how good he is with Maeve and how efficiently he runs their lives. I try to picture Patrick doing what Derek does, and I can’t. For all his smarts and his endless capabilities, I don’t think he would’ve handled single fatherhood as smoothly as Derek seems to. Although, I’m sure he didn’t get to where he is now overnight.

  I find storage containers for the leftovers, load the dishwasher, scrub the pans and wipe up the countertop, stove, table and high chair.

  When he comes back downstairs a few minutes after I finish, his eyes widen with surprise. “Wow, thanks. You really didn’t have to do all that.”

  “You didn’t have to make me dinner.”

  “I was happy to do it.”

  “Likewise. And by the way, your daughter is adorable.”

  “She really is. I’m not at all objective. She’s the cutest baby girl ever.”

  “She’s tied for first place with my nieces.”

  “I’ll allow that.” He pours himself another glass of wine. “She likes you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “She told me you’re her new friend.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet. I’m happy to be her new friend.”

  He brings his wine and sits next to me at the table. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to after she goes to bed. The nights are long and quiet.”

  “It’s a big adjustment to go from living with your spouse to living alone or with a small child.”

  “Sure is.”

  “You probably can’t see it because it’s your normal routine, but you really are slaying the single-father gig.”

  “You think so?”

  “Hell yes. Anyone would think so. You meal-prep on the weekends, Derek.”

  He laughs. “Out of pure necessity. Maeve got her mother’s propensity for extreme crankiness when she’s hangry, as Vic called it. By the time I get home from work, she’s on the brink of meltdown. I quickly discovered that planning ahead makes for more peaceful evenings.”

  “Hella impressive.”

  “I do laundry, too,” he says with a boyish grin as he props his head on an upturned hand. “I can even iron if I have to.”

  I fan my face dramatically. “You’re one hell of a catch, Kavanaugh.”

  “That’s what my mom says, too, but she kinda has to.”

  “No, she doesn’t. She says it because it’s true.”

  His expression becomes more serious. “I want Vic to be proud of me.”

  “She’s up there bragging to all the other moms about how great her man is at being a single dad.”

  “You think so?”

  “Oh, for sure.”

  “When she was here… I spent too much time at work because I thought that was what I was supposed to do. She took care of Maeve and the stuff at home, and I worked. A lot. I regret that now. I’m deputy chief of staff to the president. The coolest job of anyone I know, and it wasn’t enough. I had to put in the hours to prove myself or some such bullshit. I don’t do that anymore. I leave on time these days. I had to find out the hard way that the most important things in life were right here in this house.”

  “I’m sure Victoria would say you were a wonderful husband and father.”

  “Vic never said a bad word about me. I found that out from her friends after she died. They told me that when they would launch into husband bashing, she never participated.”

  “There you have it.”

  “Just because she didn’t trash me to her friends doesn’t mean I couldn’t have been a better husband and father. If I ever get married again, I’m going to do it differently.”

  “How so?”

  “I’m going to be around more, for one thing. There’s no job worth sacrificing time with your family. In this dog-eat-dog town, it’s easy to get so caught up in the rat race that you can’t see the forest for the trees. I hate that it took losing Vic and nearly losing Maeve, too, for me to wake up to what mattered.”

  “You knew what mattered before that, Derek. You just value it more now.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He glances toward the stove area. “She was there, on the floor, when I came in from a weekend at Camp David with Nelson and his team.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine what that was like for you.”

  “Worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “How do you stand to stay here after that?”

  “It’s Maeve’s home. I didn’t want to disrupt her life any more than it already was by moving on top of everything else. I redecorated the kitchen and our bedroom. But it took me a full year not to see her there every time I walk into this room and not to recall my frantic search for Maeve.”

  I reach out to him and curl my hand around his arm, wishing there was more I could do to comfort him.

  “Anyway,” he says, releasing a long breath. “Enough about that. Not sure why I even brought it up.”

  “Because you wanted me to know what happened and how you feel about it.”

  He stares at me, his expression wistful, as if he sees something he can’t have. “Yeah, I did want you to know.”

  “I should, um, get going home.”

  “Let me get an Uber for you.”

  “It’s two blocks. I can walk.”

  “I don’t want you to walk, Roni. It’s cold and dark, and I’d feel better if you let me get you an Uber.”

  “I can get my own Uber.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Because it seems to matter so much to him, I nod and pull my hand back from his arm so he can get his phone out to summon the car.

  “Thank you for dinner and for letting me spend time with Maeve. She’s delightful.”

  “Thanks for coming. I’m glad you got to meet her.”

  When the car is a minute away, I go into the mudroom to put on my boots and coat.

  Derek walks me out to greet the car and hands the driver a twenty. “I know it’s a short ride, but I appreciate you getting my friend home safe.”

  “Thanks, man,” the driver says, pocketing the bill.

  “Thanks again for dinner.”

  “Thanks for the company. Pick you up at seven thirty?”

  “Only if I can get breakfast.”

  He gives me a side-eye like he’s going to object.

  I give him my most mulish expression.
r />   “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  He holds the back door for me. “Text me to let me know you got home.”

  “I will.” Neither of us will ever again take simple safety for granted. “See you in the morning.”

  “See you then.”

  He waves as the car drives off, and when I look back, I see that he’s still there, watching us drive away.

  “Nice guy you got there,” the driver says, glancing at me in the mirror.

  “Oh, he’s not… We’re not…” Shut up, Roni. After spending the evening with him and his daughter, I’m more conflicted than ever about what exactly he is to me. We’ve fallen into this easy routine of friendship, commiseration, empathy, sympathy and the sort of deep conversations that are the hallmark of any enduring friendship.

  But that’s all it is, or so I tell myself as I arrive at my building, thank the driver and head inside. Once I’m in my apartment, I text Derek. I’m home. Thanks again for dinner and a lovely evening.

  He writes right back. Entirely my pleasure. Sleep well.

  You, too.

  I’m wound up about him and what it all means. Because it’s only nine thirty, I reach out to Iris. Are you awake?

  I am. You want to call?

  Yes, please…

  15

  Roni

  I make the call, and she answers on the first ring. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ugh, nothing. It’s just that I’ve made a new friend, I have no idea what any of it means, and I’m spinning.”

  “Is it Derek?”

  I’m dumbfounded. “How do you know that?”

  “A few of us noticed a spark or two flying between you guys.”

  “No! There’re no sparks flying.”

  “None at all?”

  “Iris!”

  She laughs. “What?”

  “I can’t have sparks with another guy so soon after losing the love of my life.”

  “You ready for some tough love?”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “Well, here it is anyway. Have you considered the possibility that Patrick might be your first love and that you haven’t met the love of your life yet? Or you’ve met him, and you don’t know yet that he’s going to be your great love?”