Perfect – Chapter 1
“Bailey Ann Mayfair, when are you going to marry me?”
Bailey spun around on the street, looking for the voice that was a pure blast from her past. The sound was both sweet and spun with regret. She peered into a wind that felt far more bitter than it should have, but that was likely just her mood.
He’d asked that same question of her more than once before. He’d asked it in jest and in full sincerity. And now he was asking on the street of Breathless, Georgia, where anyone could hear. But Bailey Ann hadn’t seen him in at least five years.
Her eyes searched the street until she landed on him. She didn’t recognize him by sight, but she knew just by feel that the broad-shouldered form standing down the street was Finn Malloy. Her face lit up; she could feel it. “Finn! I didn’t know you were in town.”
She fought the urge to run and throw herself into his arms, to sink there and let him lift away all the world. But she was out in public, so she couldn’t do it. She’d also answered that same question in the negative before—a good indicator that he wasn’t going to take kindly to her using him as a crying shoulder if she tried it.
He walked closer, the straight nose and bright eyes so familiar. The broad mouth almost smiling, but not quite. Typical black Irish coloring marked him. His hair was so dark as to be inky, his eyes blue enough to be startling. She’d once told herself she couldn’t marry a man with prettier eyes than her own.
Even in his twenties, he’d been slim but cut. Something had happened, and he now filled out that suit he was wearing. She blinked. “You’re wearing a suit.”
“Yeah,” his mouth got closer to smiling, but still didn’t quite achieve it. “I do that. I wear a suit.”
She only nodded, because what else could she say? That she didn’t think he’d been the type? That she’d never seen him in one before? Weren’t jeans more his style? It all sounded vaguely insulting and she’d been carefully taught to never insult someone unless she meant it. Tears pushed at the back of her eyes, and Bailey fought them back. “Are you doing something specific here?”
Breathless wasn’t the kind of place a person visited without a purpose. It was full of families and homes and schools. The shops were cute, the diner was full-scale Southern with a capital S, and the main street was named “Main” and lined with the basic stores with pretty lettering, but it wasn’t a tourist town.
“I’m taking care of my parents’ house,” he finally answered her, the words not quite sinking in.
“Oh, did they move out? Somewhere flatter?” She was thinking of old knees and all the stairs in the house. It was a kind way of asking if they’d been moved to a nursing home, or more, when she noticed he was looking at her oddly.
“No. The house is all that’s left. They died in a car accident about a year ago.”
“What?” She stopped cold. “They . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. She’d had no idea. How had she had no idea?
Finn nodded solemnly. “Single car. They went into the big tree over on Kellar, but neither of them made it.”
“Oh, my God, Finn, I’m so sorry.” Truly, she was. But she was just as sorry that she hadn’t known. That she hadn’t come back and attended their funerals. Mrs. Malloy had no more approved of Bailey being her son’s girlfriend than Bailey’s own mother had approved of “that immigrant boy.” Still, it didn’t seem right to not attend. It was worse to not have known.
He just nodded. “After your mother passed, I figured you probably weren’t getting the news.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, the conversation awfully awkward for two people who’d had some of the most amazing sex she’d known existed. For someone who’d asked her to marry him on multiple occasions.
This time, he was the better person and bridged the silence for them. “When is the service for your father?”
Just being asked, just having to think about it again pushed the tears forward. “Saturday morning at the church.” She took a beat before she realized she wasn’t being clear. “Our church, First Methodist on South Main. We’ll have a reception at the house afterward.”
He nodded again. Though she hadn’t gotten the news about an accident with both his parents, and though she had family and friends in town at the time, somehow Finn—with no family left around town—had heard about her father passing within just a few days.
She stepped in. “Are you planning to attend?”
It was all so formal and stilted, she thought. This was Finn. Finn Malloy who’d sat behind her in seventh grade English class. Mayfair. Malloy. They’d been placed next to each other that whole year and the next, too. Finn Malloy, the boy she’d accepted a shy request for a date from. Finn who she’d lost her virginity to before heading off to college. Bailey Ann pushed her hands down into her pockets.
“Am I invited?”
It was a silly question and he probably knew that. Of course, he was invited. The whole town was. Breathless wasn’t that big. People who’d known Con Mayfair would simply show up at the church and many, if not most, would follow Bailey Ann back and her sisters back to the house. “Of course, you’re invited, Finn.”
“He didn’t like me all that much.”
“He didn’t like anyone I dated,” she retorted quickly to put Finn at ease, but realized quickly that her offhand remark bore a disturbing resemblance to the truth. She covered it with a smile and a straighter spine.
Finn graciously changed the topic. “Are your sisters coming in?”
“I don’t know if you heard, but Harper Rose lost her husband about six months back.” She didn’t add that it was a big fat mess and her little sister had slowly been learning that her husband had no money, they didn’t own the house, and he appeared to have no real job. “She’s got three little girls to bring with her.”
Harper Rose followed in the family footsteps but had her kids much closer together than their parents had. Bailey Ann had yet to find the man to make her a wife. So here she was at thirty-four, talking to Finn Malloy who was gracious enough not to ask if she was still single. She was so boringly single that she’d quit her job and dropped everything to come home when her Daddy called her. She didn’t want to dwell on that. “Emma Kate should be in soon, too, but she’s working on getting her classes squared away.”
At least, Bailey Ann hoped she was. Somehow, she was now the de facto head of this little family of sisters.
“Well, I’m here if you need me.” He had his hands still in his pockets but gestured with the flaps of his coat. “It was good to see you, Bailey Ann. It always is.”
With that, he turned and walked down the street away from her as she watched. From behind, the wool coat covered the suit that had been a surprise. She saw now that he had on polished shoes and his haircut had been far more expensive than the ones he’d had in school. When she’d known him, he’d been a jeans and t-shirt kind of guy.
When they’d dated, he’d been creative—picnics, hikes, drives out of town. Only rarely did he take her to the movies and even less often to dinner. In the beginning, she’d thought it was just Finn. When he wore the same pair of slacks the second time they’d gone out somewhere nice, she’d started to get a clue. Later, when she’d been in his house, she’d understood.
The Malloys didn’t have the extra money for those things. They weren’t poor per se, but it seemed they’d spent all their money on the house on Sparrow Road. Their son was in a good neighborhood of a small town, and he was getting a good education at the public school, but they weren’t eating steak every week. They weren’t getting the threadbare carpets replaced or the front door painted. And Finn wasn’t giving her the impression that one day he’d wear wingtips with his perfectly cut suit and fine wool coat.
Then again, he’d always been a surprise.
Bailey found her first smile that day and headed further down the street away from Finn. Toward the corner pizza shop to get a slice and a coke. She needed it. The bad-for-you lunch would provide three of the four food groups—salt, sugar, and grease. She could get the fourth—alcohol—when she got home. She’d decided she was going to open the decanter to Daddy’s whiskey and take her first drink of it.
Not that she hadn’t had whiskey before, but Daddy had never let her drink in front of him, and he’d never let her have even a sip of the stash he kept at the house. Today, she might need the whole bottle. She had a funeral to plan and a man to get off her mind.
