Page 22 of The Perfect Mistake

“So he won’t come,” Isabel says. “Not the end of the world, just like I’ve told Connie.”

I glance at her. “It’s not that easy.”

“Oh, of course, it’s not easy. But it is simple. He has a choice, if he wants to be a part of his children’s lives,” she says. Then, her voice lowers. “Sorry. I know he’s your father, too. It’s just… I’ve spoken to Connie about this before.”

I lift my glass to my lips. “I bet you have. I don’t even want to imagine what you’ve heard about me.”

“All terrible things,” she says.

Is she teasing? The whiskey is warm down my throat, and I relish the burn. Try to focus on it instead of the need that won’t go away, but that I have to ignore. She’s not for me. “Good. I hope you believed them all.”

She chuckles. “Of course not.”

“You should,” I say, and I mean it. On the screen, a large group of people are meeting in a town square. It looks painfully staged, a set that’s too pretty to be real. Maybe that’s the draw of the show. They’ve made nosy neighbors and small towns something quaint. “So. Did you grow up in a place like that? Is that why you like it?”

“I grew up in Brooklyn.”

“Ah. So very similar.”

She laughs again. It’s a small, genuine sound, and I like it far too much. “There was definitely a lot of gossiping neighbors, but that’s the only similarity.”

Not a lot of men, then? The question hovers on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow it back. “I bet you have a lot of stories to tell, then.”

She crosses her legs over. There’s a lot of smooth skin on display, her legs leanly muscled. I focus on the screen instead. “My mother is the keeper of all the stories, even if she’s only a semi-reliable source of information. She has a habit of mixing up people’s names and not particularly caring if she gets the details right.”

“Huh. Sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, it can be. My little sister once said that our mom was the ultimate misinformation spreader. “

“You have siblings,” I say. She had mentioned that in my office.

On the screen, the mother and daughter pair are sitting in a diner. The table between them is filled with an obscene amount of food.

“Yeah. Twin siblings, actually. They’re five years younger than me.”

“Mm-hmm. So they’re what, nineteen?”

“Twenty,” she says.

So, she’s twenty-five, then. I knew she was younger than Connie, but not by how much. Twenty-five. That makes me fifteen years older.

I take another long pull of whiskey. “And have either of your siblings married your family’s archnemesis recently?”

Isabel laughs again. The sound washes over me. “I don’t think we have an archnemesis. That’s for you Connovans, not for the rest of us. My father has a petty feud with the guy who runs the dry cleaner’s across the street, but that’s it.”

“And you’re not planning on marrying him.”

“No. He’s fifty-something. And already married.”

“Right,” I say. “Wise move.”

She chuckles and reaches for a can of sparkling water on the coffee table. What we’re doing feels remarkably easy. Like we’re just hanging out. But that’s the last thing I should be doing with her. She’s Connie’s friend first and foremost, not to mention my employee.

Fifteen years!

I’d suspected as much, but to have it confirmed is… good. Another reason for me to abandon this stupid attraction. So what if she’s beautiful and lovely? I’m not the man for her.

“You’re going to the wedding party this Friday,” I say. It’s a statement, not a question. Of course Connie will want her best friend there.

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