Perfect Fit (Serendipity's Finest) - By Carly Phillips Page 0,51

her pleasure in seeing her daughter obvious.

Despite Cara’s frustrations with how her mother chose to live her life, Cara adored her and missed her like crazy. She tried hard not to let herself think too hard about how much—or she ended up sad and melancholy. The holidays were especially hard. Cara often ended up at the Marsdens’ or with Alexa and her dad, instead of being with her own parents.

“How are you?” Cara asked, inhaling the floral, fragrant scent she associated with the better parts of her childhood.

“Fine.” Her mother’s gaze darted to the left and right before focusing on Cara. “What about you? Are you well? Happy?”

Cara swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

Her mother couldn’t even go to the grocery store by herself. She was surprised he’d left her alone in an aisle. “He went to pick up soda we forgot. Talk to me quick, before he comes back. Are you well, honey?”

Cara nodded. “I’m good.”

“My baby, a police officer. I’m so proud,” her mother said, tucking Cara’s hair behind one ear.

She blushed. “Mom.” Cara shook her head. “I—”

“Nat, let’s go now!” Cara’s father’s voice interrupted her midsentence.

She’d been about to tell her mother she missed her.

“I have to go.” Natalie’s shoulders had slumped, and she didn’t look Cara in the eye. “I love you.”

“Tell him one minute. We’re just talking.” Cara heard the plea in her voice.

“Baby, move it. It’s time to make lunch,” her father ordered.

Cara looked over at Greg Hartley. Still handsome; his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back off his face, his eyes burned with anger as he looked between Cara and her mother, who’d already taken a step away from her daughter.

It wasn’t difficult not to say hello to her father.

And he deliberately ignored her. He hated that she’d become a cop. He hated it even more that she refused to acknowledge him as her parent, denying him the respect and control over her he craved.

“Nat, now.” Her mother jumped at the low bellow.

She turned her back on Cara and walked away, head down, as she curled into herself.

Cara hated him. She hated how her mother gave in to whatever he wanted without care to her own needs. If cutting herself off from her parents was the only way to avoid seeing this painful sight, she’d continue to do it. No matter how big a hole her mother’s absence left in her chest or how much the fear for her safety ate away at her. Her mother had made it clear she didn’t want Cara’s help. There was nothing else she could do.

Except help those who wanted it, Cara thought. Stuffing the pain down where it belonged, Cara finished up her shopping, took the groceries home, and did cleaning around the house.

On Friday, she’d spent more time at the shelter than she’d planned because Daniella was obviously depressed after discovering that she’d need continuing education courses to update her paralegal license. The timing would take a while for her to get up to speed and capable of being rehired. That meant more time at Havensbridge, and the young woman was lonely, talking about alternatives like going home. As in back to her ex. Cara was nervous and spoke at length to Belinda about keeping Daniella busy and talking, to prevent her from leaving.

Though Cara could relate to many of the women who came and went from the shelter, Daniella and her sad blue eyes reminded Cara of her mother’s. The run-in was still fresh, causing her to miss her mom even more.

By the time Saturday afternoon came, she’d managed to shake off the depression and allow her excitement about her date with Mike to come through. She spent the morning at Consign and Design in town and bought a new April Mancini original skirt at a very reasonable price. The leopard print was gorgeous and the short length showed off her legs, which were normally hidden under a uniform or blue jeans; she added her favorite black patent boots, along with a silk black camisole and a cream-colored blazer.

One last look in the mirror and she was ready to go. Ready to see Mike.

The doorbell rang and, with a last bout of nerves in her stomach, she headed for the door and let him in.

“Hi.” She greeted him with warmth, stepping back to admire the view.

Wearing dark denim jeans and a black button-down shirt and not a speck of razor stubble, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. He smelled