Page 6 of Close Match
“That was a brilliant show,” my mother says to my stepfather, Everett.
“I can’t believe you managed to score tickets, son.” Ev thumps me on the shoulder. “That’s one hell of an anniversary gift.”
“You guys deserve it,” I say gruffly. It’s true. Ev and my mother have been married twenty-five years this weekend. My father—better known as my sperm donor—has been out of our lives since long before I was even born. With everything that’s been going on in Mom and Ev’s lives, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to take them to New York City where they first met when Ev came to town for a work conference. He was the brains behind an internet startup giant; my mother worked for the hotel the conference was being held at. They’d had an instant connection which my mother assumed would end when the software mogul realized she had a child.
She was wrong.
Everett Parrish turned the same intensity he used to build one of the world’s biggest internet companies toward Charlotte Sanderson and her twelve-year-old son. Within months of dating, he convinced my mother to move to Northern Virginia. Within a year, they were engaged. Six months later, they were married. And fourteen months after meeting him, at the age of fourteen, Ev asked me if I wanted him to find my biological father, to find out if there was a man there worth knowing. I told him I didn’t care about him; he was only a bunch of cells that formed half my DNA. The only reason to find the cell donor would be if Ev planned on making him give up his rights to my real dad—the only time I’ve called Ev that.
And he did.
I was sixteen when my name legally changed to Montague Parrish. I owe everything to my mother, a woman with a love of Shakespearean theater who gave up her dreams of the stage when she realized she was pregnant with me. Instead, she saddled me with the need to be able to defend myself at an early age with a name like Montague, despite my insistence at shortening it to Monty. So, in the end, she did what she needed to do to give me everything.
I’m just grateful she found her soul mate in the man walking along the street with us. Taking them to New York to celebrate their wedding anniversary was nothing.
I’d give them anything if I thought it would bring this kind of joy to their faces.
We walk companionably, the petite half-Italian woman, the tall Irishman she fell in love with, and me—the man who could pass for their biological son even if I’m not. I inherited my mother’s dark hair and hazel-colored eyes. And most people, unless they know I was adopted by Ev in my teenage years, assume I inherited his height. I can only guess that’s from the cell donor’s DNA, but I really don’t care. I have no desire to find out anything about him. Frankly, between my Mom and Ev, I’ve never missed his presence in my life.
It’s not like anything he’s given me has ever impacted the way I live. And it’s not the money or influence Ev brought into our lives; it’s the stability and the support. The love he showered on Mom and me.
Which is why, deep down, I wanted to give them this memory. I’m terrified of all the ones we’re facing.
“The redhead on stage was amazing. I think I’m going to steal her away just so she can sing to me every day,” my father deadpans. Mom elbows him in the ribs.
“No comment,” I say drolly. But my mind drifts back to “Kate.” Her long red hair curled down her back as she sang and danced all night. Even from our seats, you could tell she was flirty, shy, and passionate. But her voice…wow. Her voice blew the doors off the place. To get tickets, I had to be seated apart from my parents, something I was grateful for as listening to her husky tones immediately made me hard. When she started singing, I thought my legs might cramp trying to hide my reaction in the tight theater seats.
Nothing has ever affected me quite the way that voice did. And since I gave my small binoculars to my parents—which Ev said my mother hogged all night—I never saw her face. I even, stupidly, passed up one of the Playbills they offer when you walk in the door. I whimsically think about looking her up when we get home. But suddenly, Ev wobbles, Mom starts to lose her balance in the heels she’s wearing, and I forget everything but what’s happening in front of me. “Geez, old man. Did you drink too much during the intermission?” I joke.
“You know how I get with soda, Monty. Can’t hold my caffeine.” His voice is laced with humor. But his eyes are tired. It’s a good thing we’re only a few blocks from The Monkey Bar where we’re having a late dinner otherwise I’d have insisted on hailing a cab.
I’ll be sure to on our way back to the hotel.
“Come on, Ev.” Mom sidles up on the other side of him. “I hear this place will give you an entire bowl of fresh whipped cream with your cappuccino.”
He wiggles his brow at her. “Think we can get one to go?”
“Seriously? Gross.” I shake my head. Ev barks out a laugh that can be heard over the traffic that’s like white noise to city-goers. Ev’s and my eyes collide briefly before we both grin. I pretend to back away before declaring, “I’m putting an official ban on sex talk. Do you both hear me? If you want to have a night out, I’ll go back to the hotel.”
Ev reaches out and snags Mom around the waist. Leaning down, he murmurs into her ear. Her face softens. Laying her hands on his biceps, she rolls to the balls of her feet. Brushing a kiss on his lips, she says, “I love you too. But let’s stop torturing the poor boy. Right now, let’s eat. If I were that redhead, I’d be ready for a steak right now. So, on her behalf, I’m going to eat one.”
And with that perfectly woman logic, we make our way down the street to get my mom her steak.
And her bowl of whipped cream.
* * *
The next morning,I’ve just helped my mother and Ev into a horse-drawn carriage near Central Park. As dorky as it may seem, they wanted the romantic clop around the famous Manhattan landscape. And I wanted time alone with my thoughts.
Ev’s not getting any better. All the money he has and ultimately, nothing will save him.
I’m not paying any attention, so I’m startled when a warm body brushes by a bit too close. I’m about to blast out something to warn the runner when I get a good look at her. I can’t help but notice her sleek legs as she runs by, oblivious to the stares she’s earning from more than just me. Her dark hair dances almost down to a perfectly shaped ass. The skin that’s not covered by her T-shirt is like the palest porcelain. My body immediately begins to tighten in interest. Then I shake my head ruefully. What is it about the women in this city? Is there something magical about them? Maybe you can’t see the stars in the night sky over the cityscape because it’s being poured onto the women who inhabit the city below it. I wish I had the time to find out.
Unfortunately, today’s our last full day in the city. The sooner we get back home, the better. Ev will be more comfortable. Mom can get back to her routine. And me? I can finish moving out of my apartment in DC back to the farm where I can be closer to my family.
Leaving my job to move back to the farm was an easy decision for several reasons, one that I’m glad was ultimately taken out of my hands. Now I can be there for more than just the occasional days off. It will be good to be able to give Mom and Ev the support they need.
Checking my watch, I lament the fact it’s only eight in the morning. It’s way too early for a drink. Then I remember our hotel serves mimosas with breakfast, and I perk up a bit. If I’m going to suffer a day of sightseeing with my family, I’m going to need something to sustain me. Leaning against the stone pillar, I pull out my phone. It seems like just moments, but between debating between the breakfast buffet or eggs Benedict at the Palm Court and answering a few emails for the team keeping things together back home, it’s closer to a half-hour before I realize the carriage containing the two most important people in the world has come to a stop in front of me. Mom and Ev step out looking as in love now as they did when they first met. I hope the memory of this gives them enough strength to carry them through what I know is to come.
