Page 5 of The Match

I hold up my hand to stop her. I’m not proud of how condescending that makes me look, but she’s just not taking the hint. I want her to go away. Far, far away from me and my daughter. “I don’t think you’re understanding, Miss Jones. We don’t want to hear about your company or the dog.”

“No, you don’t want to hear about the dog,” Sam says under her breath but at a volume that indicates she definitely meant for me to hear it.

I look at Sam and prepare to tell her to watch it because she’s already on thin ice when Miss Jones pipes in again. “If Sam is interested, I would really love to tell you about Charlie and how he’s—”

Now, here’s the thing. I’ve had a bad week. Nothing has gone right. I’ve been looking into private schools for Sam to attend in the fall where they can give her more attention than she’d get in her large public school, and she’s hated every single one of them that we’ve toured. She wants to stay with her friends even though I explained to her that it would make me feel more comfortable for her to be somewhere smaller. I’ve also had to tell her three times that she can’t go to Jenna Miller’s eleventh birthday party sleepover. Sam stormed up the stairs after her third try, with the words I hate you lingering in the air between us.

On top of all this, she had a longer-than-usual seizure last week that scared the hell out of me, and I haven’t slept soundly in the past year since she was diagnosed. I can’t stomach the thought of her having a seizure in the night and me not knowing about it, so I get out of bed at least fifteen times a night to check on her before I usually just give up and make a pallet on her floor. And the last thing I need to add to my plate is caring for a dog.

Because of all these things, I stand up so fast that my chair scrapes and everyone in the coffee shop turns to watch me be a complete ass to this woman.

“Stop. I told you we don’t want to hear about your company’s dog. I don’t know if you’re hard up for the cash or what, but you should know that you’re coming across as an annoying car salesman about to get fired if he doesn’t meet his quota for the week.”

Damn . . . that was bad. I immediately feel remorse.

Miss Jones shifts on her white-sneaker-clad feet, and her dog’s ears shoot up. I’m prepared for all sorts of replies from her, including her siccing her dog on me for being so rude. I’m not, however, prepared for her smirk. “So, I’m a man in this analogy?”

I’m honestly not sure how to respond to that, so I settle for a very mature shrug.

She scoffs and shakes her head. I see pity in her eyes, and I don’t like it one bit. Mainly because I deserve it, and I despise feeling like I need anyone’s sympathy.

“Good luck to you, Mr. Broaden.” She leans in close to me, speaking low in my ear and proving she smells as good as she looks. “You’re going to need it when you try to walk out of here with your head shoved so far up your ass.”

I’m a statue as I watch Evie Jones and Charlie walk out of the coffee shop, her sundress swaying with her hips, and my daughter’s angry gaze burning a hole in the side of my face.

CHAPTER 3

Jake

Sam doesn’t speak to me all the way home. Doesn’t even take the bait when I ask if she wants to stop by her favorite ice cream shop and get a double scoop. Shawn Mendes’s falsetto is blaring over the speakers, and I honestly have no idea how else I can redeem myself in her eyes.

I’m practically screaming LOVE ME to my ten-year-old daughter, and she’s plugging her tiny little pierced ears, holding all the power.

How did this happen? How did I get here? Shouldn’t she be the one begging me for mercy after the stunt she just pulled? Instead, I’m seconds away from offering to clean her room and do her homework for a month. I’m a total schmuck, but I don’t care. Sam and I have always had a close relationship. Even before Natalie left, I was the one who Sam gravitated toward. I’ve always been able to see how brightly I shine in her eyes. But right now, they look dim, and she looks more disappointed in me than ever. I will do anything to see her smile right now.

“I’ve gotta stop off at the office real quick to pick up a few plans,” I tell her as I pull up in front of Broaden Homes. It’s my residential architectural firm—as in, I built this little company from the ground up. It’s not the biggest firm in town, but it’s not the smallest either. I’m doing pretty well for myself, and as I walk through the large light-oak doors of the historic downtown building I renovated and turned into our offices, I feel a shot of pride. Also a bit of longing.

Since I began shouldering the brunt of parenthood and learning

a new way of life with Sam’s seizures, I haven’t been able to devote as much time to the business as I would like. The two other architects I have employed here are working double-time to pick up the slack I keep dropping. But being a single parent in the summertime is hard enough. Add in a newly discovered disability and an endless string of sleepless nights, and you get nearly impossible.

“Jake, what are you doing in here today?” asks Hannah, one of my head architects on staff, as she steps out of her office.

It’s a smallish building with only three offices for the architects and one large common space for assistants and meetings. But it’s beautiful, even if I do say so myself. A wall of windows lines the front of the building, the flooring is made of wide natural plank wood, and a massive fifteen-foot-long oak table for meetings sits in the center of the common space.

“I just wanted to stop in and grab those plans of the Halbert build.” And feel like myself again for a minute.

Hannah levels me with a look before putting her hands on her hips. “I thought you were giving that project over to Bryan? Also, hi, Sam! It’s good to see you, sweetie.” She grins at my daughter, who has been brooding behind me but offers a smile to Hannah like it’s an intentional jab to my gut.

“I was. I did.” I run my hand through my hair, wishing I didn’t have to get through a customs checkpoint before making it into my own office. “Last night I thought of a few ideas for the mudroom problem we were having, and I thought I might take a look at the plans again. I think if I move it—”

“That sounds like something Bryan—the man you handed the project over to because you were so exhausted you were falling asleep at your desk in the middle of the afternoon—should be worrying about.”

I’m mad that she’s right. I’m exhausted and stretched thin. It’s why I decided to cut back my hours, delegate more projects to Bryan and Hannah, and devote more of my time to Sam this summer. But it’s hard. I love my job, and I love giving my brain the opportunity to create. Forcing it to turn off like this feels like I’m cutting off my leg. I don’t know how to walk anymore.

“Okay, you’re right. Let me just look at those plans really fast, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Hannah gives me a flat smile that alerts me to what’s coming. She steps up to me, puts her hands on my shoulders, and physically turns me toward the door. “Go home, Jake. This is your day off. Let us do our jobs.”