Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest) - By Carly Phillips Page 0,50
touch with him.”
The words came out so whisper soft he thought he heard wrong.
He whipped his head around and looked at his mother. “Say that again.”
“I’ve been in touch with Rex.”
Disbelief and a sense of betrayal ripped through him. When? How? “I thought he was MIA.”
His mother hung her head. “He was. And then a little while ago, he friended me on Facebook.”
“That’s why you got so upset at that family dinner. All that talk about Facebook and old flames.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What did he want?” Mike asked through clenched teeth.
“He was curious about you,” she whispered.
Pain lodged in his chest. “Too little, too late,” Mike muttered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t! Imagine how Simon would feel if he knew Rex was asking about his family. Especially while he’s in treatment.”
“What about me? What’s your excuse for keeping me in the dark?” he asked through the red haze of anger, hurt, and frustration that clouded his thoughts and his vision.
“This. Your anger at him. Your ambivalence about yourself. You’re so afraid you’re like him—I know you personalized that mess with Tiffany, though heaven knows that girl was a clinging vine. But now you’re home and you’re here…I didn’t want to jeopardize your peace of mind.” She closed her eyes, weariness and strain evident in her face and how she’d hunched her shoulders.
He reached out and pulled her close. “You should have told me,” he said, unable to stay furious at his mother.
“I know. Even Cara said so, but I didn’t listen.”
Mike froze. “Cara knows?”
His mother moaned. “Oh God. I’m sorry. That same night, we were talking about her parents, and I said I understood what it was like to doubt your choices. I didn’t plan on telling her, but I guess I needed someone to talk to because before I knew it, I had. And she said you should know, and I made her swear not to tell you.”
“Okay,” he said, to appease his mother.
Cara knew. He thought she understood him. Thought he could trust her in a way he’d trusted no other woman. Yet she’d sat with him at the judge’s house, listened to him say he needed to find the father he hated, and she’d known his mother was in touch with the man. And still she’d said nothing.
“Michael Marsden, don’t you dare be mad at Cara,” his mother said, shaking his shoulders. “I put her in an awful position.”
“Maybe.” But he was sleeping with the woman, revealing himself to her on all sorts of levels. She should have told him.
“Don’t worry about it,” he told his mother.
“You aren’t upset with her?”
“I’m seeing her for dinner tonight,” he said, evading the question.
“That’s not an answer.” His mother’s voice was stronger now. She’d composed herself and was back to her forceful self.
“It’s all I have at the moment.” He rose to his feet. “Where can I find him?” he asked of Rex.
She swallowed. “He’s in Nevada.”
“Vegas?” Mike asked.
His mother nodded.
“Figures,” Mike muttered.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, wringing her hands as she spoke.
He met his mother’s gaze and answered honestly. “I have no fucking idea.”
She blanched at his language, but she didn’t correct him, obviously knowing he deserved the outburst.
“I have to go.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Tell Dad I said hi.”
“Mike, please. Calm down and let’s talk again before you do anything.”
He wasn’t making any promises. “I love you,” he said, before walking out the door and into the cold sunshine and bright light of day.
He was numb. Angry. Hurt. Pissed. And he had to work it all out before he picked up Cara tonight and took her out with old friends. Or the night he’d been looking forward to was going to end up being a nightmare instead.
Cara was more excited about dinner than she let herself admit. But before she could focus, she needed to do some grocery shopping because her fridge was empty. She pushed a cart up and down the aisle in the Food Mart, following the list she’d made. She often cooked on Sunday, freezing some meals for the week, so she stocked up on both basics and snack foods.
As she turned into the last aisle, she paused the cart by the milk, looked up, and saw her mother standing with a small basket in her hand, studying the orange juice.
“Mom!” Cara said, before she could think through that she’d been avoiding her.
Natalie Hartley glanced up. “Cara!” She strode over and hugged Cara,