Close Match Page 10

  And I can’t save his life like she might be able to.

  “I don’t think,” I slowly begin. Ev’s eyes cut over to me. “That she’s going to necessarily drop everything, jump on a plane, and race down here. She’s going to be wary, suspicious. Unless something changes quicker than we expect, you’ve got some time. You need to establish a relationship with her, Ev. It’s going to chafe at you, but the way I see it is that either I pull in my markers, or you hire a firm to investigate her, or…”

  “Or I put in the effort to get to know my daughter? I don’t push this like I would have a boardroom decision?”

  “Pretty much,” I tell him bluntly. It’s not what he wants to hear, but it’s the truth.

  “There are so many things I still want to share with you.” His voice is rich with emotion.

  “Me?” I’m confused. We were talking about his daughter. But at Ev’s nod, my head begins to spin. He stands up from behind his desk and walks around to lean against the front of it.

  “Yes. I want you to be happy again. Being home has been good for you. I’m starting to see you heal from whatever it is that’s hurt you, but I want to see you happy.” He leans down and claps my shoulder. “It’s a father’s prerogative.”

  “Ev.” Just his name and even then, I can barely get the words out. I shake my head as I try to find more, but he goes on.

  “I want to watch you fall in love. I want to hold your children from the moment they’re born and give them what I couldn’t give to you which is every moment of my time from the first second they open their eyes. If there’s any gift that I could give you, it would be more time.”

  I can’t blink fast enough to stop the tears. “Why are you saying all of this now?”

  “Because if I can’t, if I never get the chance, I want you to know it’s been my privilege to be your father all of these years, Montague. Just because I need to settle this part of my life, doesn’t mean I regret one minute of my past.” Letting go of my shoulder, he moves back behind his desk. He picks up his drink and takes a hefty swallow, staring immobile at the screen in front of him.

  I stare out the wall of windows and into the inky darkness. If I were outside, I’d be able to see the stars glittering down like little jewels on the horses as they rest in the paddock. Even though I’m not out there, it’s enough to know they are. They always will be.

  Kind of like my love for the man in this room. It just is. Nothing will change that.

  “Ev, I think you need to tell her how you met her mother. Even if she knows the story from her perspective, she should hear it from yours. There are things you likely remember that her mother didn’t write down. Complete the image in her head. Tell her what a day is like for you here. Ask her what a day is like for her in New York.” I turn and find him regarding me thoughtfully. “Be you but don’t give away your identity just yet, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do.”

  “Then you don’t need my help sending an email to your daughter. You’re a bright guy with a lot of love to share.” Crossing the room, I do something I haven’t done in too long, and I hate that I haven’t. I drop a kiss on the top of his head. “Love you, Ev. Let me know how it goes.”

  I make my way toward the double doors that guard Ev’s study when I hear his cracked voice call out, “Monty?”

  I stop in my tracks. “Yeah?”

  “I love you too, son.”

  I let the reminder of that seep through me, igniting parts of my soul that have been slowly losing their light. But I flick up my hand in a quick acknowledgment before I leave Ev to his email, knowing he’ll show me what he wrote before he hits Send.

  ACT 2 – I’m positive.

  Twenty

  Evangeline

  August

  “I’m a mess,” I confide in Bristol. I’m pacing the Newsroom: Rise Up Suite in the Hamilton Hotel in Washington, DC. After a month of emailing back and forth, Rhett suggested meeting in a neutral location. He generously offered to pay for my ticket to fly down and back, which I politely declined.

  Due to the sensitivity of why I’m coming, I decided to charter a jet and fly in and out of Teterboro using their private jet service, which helps reduce the possibility of being followed. And right now, I need every ounce of anonymity I can hold on to. I don’t know if the minute I walk through the door at Georgia Browns—a restaurant I’ve enjoyed in the past when I’ve performed at the Kennedy Center—whether or not I’ll be recognized.

  I hope not.

  “Linnie, will you calm down? I would hardly call Rhett a stranger. You just haven’t met him yet,” she points out diplomatically.

  “What if I walk in and I forget everything I want to ask, everything I want to say?” Bristol starts laughing. “It’s not funny, damnit.”

  “It sure as hell is. When was the last time that Evangeline Brogan ever flubbed a line?” she teases me.

  I open my mouth to retort, but nothing comes out but a grunt, which sets her off further. “At least help take my mind off of it. How’s my future niece or nephew cooking in there?”

  “Wonderfully. Simon is freaking out. He’s looking into animal chipping right now.” Bristol’s voice is serene.

  “Animal chipping?” I repeat to make sure I heard her correctly. There’s a clatter on the other end of the phone as someone puts me on speaker.

  “You know, like a geolocation chip? The things they put into cats and dogs to find them?” My lips curve as Simon’s exasperation comes through loud and clear. “If a pet can have it, why can’t my kid?”

  “Are you feeding him too much cilantro? That freaking food must do something over time to mess with the brain,” I muse.

  “Not helping, Linnie,” Simon grates out. Bristol doesn’t bother to reply; she’s laughing too hard. I take pity on my brother-in-law and try to calm him down.

  “Simon, I trust so few people around us, it’s a wonder the counting doesn’t stop on my middle finger.” I’m outright grinning when I hear him snort. “That doesn’t mean I believe your son is in imminent danger.”

  “She will be when she’s sixteen and looks like her mother,” he argues. Aww, now that’s sweet. Simon’s hoping for a little girl.

  “Then you can track he or she down by her phone or whatever technology is available at that time. In fact, wouldn’t that be a better use of your time? Maybe by learning how to become a little more internet savvy? Don’t be one of those parents who are so easy to fool you become an embarrassment. God, Bris, it wasn’t until Rhett brought it up that I remembered how awful Mom was at the computer,” I think back nostalgically. Mom was so computer illiterate that she even guilted Bristol and me to do her online shopping for her. We taunted her one Christmas with one of those phones that had only four buttons on it. Imagine our surprise when she started using it.

  No wonder Rhett was shocked when I said she owned and operated a “communications firm,” I think derisively. But thoughts of Rhett lead me back to my current problems. “Maybe I should call and tell him I couldn’t make it,” I whine.

  “Maybe you should woman up and realize the search for your father is almost done. After tomorrow, you can choose to have everything or nothing to do with him ever again,” Bristol says brutally.

  “I hate when you’re logical.”

  “I hate when you’re emotional. This is why we work.”

  “I hate when you both won’t shut up and let me look at microchips for my kid,” Simon interjects. There’s a momentary pause before we both start giggling.

  “Now, tell me what you plan on wearing,” Bristol asks.

  “And with that, take your sister off the speaker. I found a doctor in South America who might be willing to chip…”

  “We are not putting a chip in our child.” Bristol’s voice is firm.

  Simon’s sigh in the background is his only response.

  “Well, I’m down to two outfits.” Though I brought eight for an overnight stay.

  “Tell me about them,” Bris
tol encourages. I start talking. Soon we’re arguing the benefits of what I should wear the first time I meet my father.

  We don’t get off the phone for another hour, an hour where for now everything’s going to be just fine.

  It isn’t until later when I’m left alone with my thoughts the worry comes rushing back.

  * * *

  Since I’ve eaten at Georgia Browns before, I know the dress at lunchtime is usually business suits since it’s so close to the White House. Bristol convinced me last night not to wear the suit from St. John and instead to flaunt my natural style. The trendy skinny jeans I’m wearing have just enough detailed stitching to be dressy. They’re paired with a simple violet-red silk tee.

  On top of that, I shove my arms into a hip-length leather jacket that’s soft enough for me to scrunch up the sleeves. Adding more height to my already long legs, I’ve paired the look with a pair of leather boots. Finishing the look, I slip on a Tiffany bone cuff and diamond studs.

  Grabbing my phone off the charger, I stride over to the full-length mirror and take a picture before texting to Bristol. Well, I’m as ready as I’m going to be. Now that I’m dressed, I can’t throw up. I press Send.

  A few dots come back. Take your hair down.

  My fingers fly. Then I’ll be playing with it the whole time.

  You look like you made too much of an effort otherwise. Shit, I hate when she’s right. Undoing the hair clip, I flip my head upside down and give it a good shake. My long dark brown hair settles down the middle of my back. I take a new picture. Better? Before I hit Send, I attach the eye-rolling emoji.

  Much comes back almost instantaneously. I capture one side of my lip nervously before I type, Do I hug him?

  Linnie, do what comes naturally. Only you can make that decision.

  Before I can respond, another message pops up. Just promise me you won’t play a part with Rhett. This may be your only shot. Let yourself be and feel whatever you want.

  Right. If I let myself feel what I want, Rhett’s going to think he’s got a basket case on his hands. Instead, I ask, Would you tell him the truth? That the background we created was fabricated?

  I’d see how it goes. It’s only the first meeting. Now, go. You’re going to be late. And remember, everything’s going to be just fine.

  Fine. Yeah. If we go by the Aerosmith definition of it, sure. It’s going to be just fine. I type back. Yep. Love you. I’ll talk to you later.

  Her XOXO settles my stomach slightly as I slip my phone into my bag. Leaving the room, I check the door to make sure it’s locked. I head over to the elevator, press the button, and wait. The silver mirrored doors open, and inside there’s a man nonchalantly leaning against the wall and fiddling with his phone. Hello, delicious. Wow, that face is something I’d like to spend more than an elevator ride looking at. “Excuse me,” I murmur, slipping on a pair of sunglasses. Then I watch him openly in the mirrored walls of the elevator. Built with long muscles, this man reminds me of a panther; dark and sleek.

  “Not a problem at all.” His voice washes over me. I feel an unusual chill race up and down my spine. “Hey, Ev. Yeah, I’m in the elevator. I’ll be at the restaurant in two minutes. Did Mom buy out half of City Center?” There’s a pause before he laughs. “Tell me it’s not all waiting at the table and she arranged for it to be delivered. Good. I’m about to get out. See you in about two minutes.”

  The elevator’s slowed, so I know he’s not wrong. Unfortunately, that means I have to move and not focus on the eye candy I got to enjoy. As the doors smoothly open, his left hand reaches out to keep them open. “I know this is going to sound insane in a city of almost a million people, but have we met?”

  The line is so trite, it has me smiling up at him as I pass. But it helps settle the nerves at meeting my father for the first time. “Sorry, I’m pretty certain we haven’t. I don’t live in the area.”

  Stepping out behind me, he asks, “How long are you in town? I’d be happy to show you around.” His voice drops further. “Anywhere you want to go.”

  My breath catches as I stare into eyes that are a swirl of green and brown fringed by dark brown lashes. His dark hair is just beginning to see a few dots of silver, but it does nothing to detract from the sexiness of his strong jaw covered in a light stubble. He’s easily got to be six foot three, able to look down on me even while I’m in my power boots. Even if he’s a bit leaner than the guys I normally date, he’s a delicious package, that’s for sure. It’s too bad I have much more pressing matters at hand. I can’t remember the last time I was so immediately physically attracted to someone.

  “It’s a damn shame I won’t be here long.” My fingertips trail over the lapel of his sports coat. “Bad timing.” I turn and head out the front door onto K Street.

  While a diversion as gorgeous as that certainly would have distracted me after meeting my father, I don’t have the time to arrange a follow-up meeting. I’m supposed to walk into Georgia Browns in less than a minute. As it is, I’m going to be making a grand entrance because I’m already running late.

  Way to seek out the spotlight even when you don’t want to, Linnie.

  Twenty-One

  Montague

  It wasn’t just a pickup line. I feel like I’ve been in the position of watching her walk away from me, but I can’t quite remember where or when. There’s something about the confidence in her stride, I muse as I follow her a few feet down K Street. The tilt of her head as she pauses to slip her phone out to check something on it before tucking it back into a small shoulder bag. Then my heart stops when I see her duck under the distinctive awning of Georgia Browns. She steps aside as the door’s held open for her.

  I hold back, lest she thinks I’m deliberately following her. My heart is thumping in my chest as my mind begins to make connections. Long mahogany hair. Dimples in the corners of her mouth when her lips curved a few moments ago. Ev has both of those. What would be the chances the woman I just asked out could be Lynn Brogan?

  Inside, the bronze branches crawl their way around the restaurant like the live oaks found in the rich history of Savannah’s low country. The carpet is a subtle gray green, giving the feeling of being draped in the Spanish moss that wraps the oaks year-round. The lighting is encased in the restaurant’s signature honeybee color, a tribute to the state of Georgia’s official insect designated as such in 1975. The restaurant is a work of art; not to mention its delicious food, which is why Ev, Mom, and I make it a point to come here as often as we can.

  Since the crowd from the White House hasn’t let out for lunch yet, it’s easy enough for me to spot them. Ev lifts his hand in acknowledgment. I’m debating whether I should quietly shift around her when she decides for me. Squaring her shoulders, she approaches the maître d’. “Excuse me. My name is Lynn Brogan. I’m supposed to be joining Mr. Parrish for lunch this afternoon.”

  Before he can open his mouth, I cup her elbow. Startled, she turns. “You!” She tries to yank her arm away, but I tighten my fingers slightly.

  “I’ll be happy to escort you to your table. I had no idea who you… Ev’s been waiting a long time to meet you,” I finish lamely.

  “Ev? Who are you talking about?” Her eyes dart to the left, and she’s ready to bolt. She starts jerking her arm back and forth in my hand. “Lynn, stop,” I order.

  “How do you know my name?” she whispers, frightened.

  “My name is Montague Parrish, though everyone but my mother calls me Monty.” The color starts to leech from her face. “Rhett’s full name is Everett.”

  Horror washes over her features. “Do you mean to tell me my half-brother just tried to hit on me?”

  “No. I’m merely your stepbrother.”

  “Oh, well, that’s so much better.” She runs her free hand through her hair, sending it into complete disarray before the thick strands fall back into place perfectly. “Were you following me?” she demands.

  “Not really,” I hedge.

  This time
I let her take the step back. “Care to explain?”

  “Did I technically walk behind you from the hotel to here because we’re also staying at the Hamilton? Yes. Was I deliberately following you? No.” Her indignation deflates at that. A stain blushes her pale cheeks, and she looks away.

  “I apologize. I…” Letting go of her elbow, I reach up and give her arm a quick squeeze before letting it go. “Listen, would it help you to know he’s as nervous as you are?” I don’t feel like I’m betraying Ev by sharing that. One look at the table and she’ll know that for herself.

  “Honestly? Yes, it does. Thank you.” She closes her eyes for one heartbeat, two, before opening them. “Lynn Brogan.” She extends her hand.

  “Monty Parrish.” I glance over her shoulder at the maître d’ and give him a jerk of my head, dismissing him. He discreetly moves away. “May I escort you to meet your father and my mother?”

  The panicked look that had receded from her face comes rushing back. “Your mother’s here too? Why would Rhett do this to me?”

  “I think he had some idea that meeting all of us at once might be easier on you.”

  “Yeah, well, a little warning next time,” she mutters adorably.

  I cock my head to the side. “Is there going to be a next time? Are you a genetic phenom who has three sets of parents?”

  Lynn hauls off and smacks me in the arm before realizing what she did. “Oh. My. God. I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  I grin. “You need a drink if you think a little thing like you can hurt me.” I hold out my arm for hers.

  Tucking her fingers beneath my elbow, she mutters, “I don’t drink alcohol. But a rocking Shirley Temple sounds great right about now.”