Authors: Kristan Higgins
The Perfect Match (38 page)
“Oh, shut up, whore. How dare you seduce my husband! How dare
you!”
“I’m not sedu—doing anything to anyone, okay?” Faith said, more
than a little horrified that this conversation was taking place in front of a
toddler (who looked like a baby Hobbit, he was so dang cute, licking sugar from
the packet).
“You’re a slut, whore.”
“Actually,” Faith said tightly, “your
husband
was the one who...” Again, the kid. “Ask the waiter. Right?”
Yes, yes, get some confirmation from the friendly waiter.
“Um...who’s paying tonight?” he asked. So much for the love she
inspired in the gays.
“It was a business dinner,” Clint interrupted. “She came onto
me, and I didn’t expect it, I didn’t know what to do. Come on, let’s go home,
babe.”
“And by home, I’m guessing you don’t mean your bachelor pad in
Noe Valley, right?” Faith bit out.
Clint ignored her. “Hi, Finn, how’s it going, bud?” He tousled
his child’s hair, then stood up and gave her a sorrowful, dignified look. “I’m
sorry, Faith,” he said somberly. “I’m a happily married man, and I have a
beautiful family. I’m afraid we won’t be able to work together anymore.”
“Not a problem,” she said tightly.
“Take that, whore,” said Clint’s wife. “That’s what you get,
trying to break up my family!” She put her hands on her hips and twisted out her
leg, the Angelina Jolie Hip Displacement look.
“Hi, whore,” the little boy said, ripping open another sugar
packet.
“Hi,” she said. He really was cute.
“Don’t speak to my child!” Mrs. Bundt said. “I don’t want your
filthy whore mouth speaking to my son.”
“Hypocrite,” she muttered.
Clint scooped up the boy, who’d managed to snag a few more
sugar packets.
“If I ever see you near my husband, whore, you’ll be sorry,”
Mrs. Bundt hissed.
“I’m not a whore, okay?” Faith snapped.
“Yes, you are,” said his wife, giving her the finger. Then the
Bundts turned their backs to her and walked away from the table.
“I’m not!” Faith called. “I haven’t slept with anyone in three
years, okay? I’m not a whore!” The little boy waved cheerily from over his
father’s shoulder, and Faith gave a small wave in return.
The Bundts were gone. Faith grabbed her water glass and
chugged, then rested the glass against her hot cheek. Her heart was pounding so
hard she felt sick.
“Three years?” said one of the diners.
The waiter gave her the check. “I’ll take that whenever you’re
ready,” he said. Great. On top of all that, she had to pay for dinner, too.
“Your tip would’ve been a lot bigger if you’d backed me up,”
she told him, digging in her purse for her wallet.
“You really do look great in that dress,” he said.
“Too late.”
When she’d paid the bill (and really, Clint, thanks for
ordering a seventy-five dollar bottle of wine), she went out into the damp, cold
San Francisco air and started walking. It wasn’t far to her apartment, even in
heels. The streets of San Francisco were nothing compared to the steep hills of
home. Consider it her cardio. Pissed-Off Woman Workout. The Stomp of the
Righteous and Rejected. It was noisy down here at the wharf, the seagulls
crying, music blaring out from every bar and restaurant, a dozen different
languages bouncing around her.
Back home, the only sound would be the late-season crickets and
the call of the owl family who lived in an old maple at the edge of the
cemetery. The air would be sweet with the smell of grapes, tinged with wood
smoke, because already, the nights would be cooling down. From her old bedroom
window, she’d be able to see all the way to Keuka. She’d spent her childhood
playing in woods and fields, breathing the clean air of western New York,
swimming in glacier-formed lakes. Her love of the outdoors was the main reason
she’d become a landscape architect—the chance to woo people from their
increasingly interior lives and enjoy nature a little bit more.
Maybe it was time to start thinking seriously about moving
back. That had always been the plan, anyway. Live in Manningsport, raise a
family, be close to her sibs and father.
Clint Bundt. Married with a kid.
Such
a hemorrhoid. Well. Soon she’d be home with her dog. Liza
probably was out with her guy, the Wonderful Mike, so Faith could watch
Real Housewives
and eat some Ben & Jerry’s.
Why was it so hard to find the right guy? Faith didn’t think
she was too picky; she just wanted someone who wasn’t gay, married, unkind,
amoral or too short. Someone who’d look at her...well, the way Jeremy had. His
dark, liquid eyes would tell her she was the best thing that ever happened to
him, always a smile in their depths. Never once had she doubted that he loved
her completely.
Her phone rang, and she fished it out of her purse.
Honor.
“Hey,” she said, feeling the faint pang of
alarm she always felt when her sister called. “How are you?”
“Have you talked to Dad recently?” her sister said.
“Um...yeah. We talk almost every day.”
“Then I suppose you’ve heard about Lorena.”
Faith twisted to avoid a cute guy in a Derek Jeter T-shirt.
“I’m a Yankees fan, too,” she told him with a smile. He frowned and took the
hand of an irritable-looking woman next to him.
Message
received, buddy, and jeesh. Only trying to be friendly.
“Who’s
Lorena?” she asked her sister.
Honor sighed. “Faith, you might want to get home before Dad
gets married.”
Copyright © 2013 by Kristan Higgins
ISBN-13: 9781460320976
THE PERFECT MATCH
Copyright © 2013 by Kristan Higgins
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