Kathryn Shay - The Wrong Man For Her

“Better.” Beth scowled. “I’m so mad at his father. He canceled their plans on Sunday, which sent my son into a serious depression.”

“I’m mad at him, too.”

They chuckled, as if being angry at the men in their pasts would help.

Beth studied Madelyn with what Madelyn called her minister look. “You aren’t thinking about doing the counseling yourself, are you Maddie?”

She didn’t say anything.

“That would be a very bad decision.”

“I know.” Her throat tightened at the mere thought. “And I swear to God, I don’t want to work that closely with Nick.”

“We’ll find another way.”

“By three o’clock tomorrow?”

“Hey, God does some of Her best work on deadline.”

Madelyn laughed, and so did Beth. Once again, Madelyn was grateful to have this woman in her life.

She had a lot to be grateful for. Friends like Beth and John. A job she loved. Enough material things.

Hearing a thud from above where another yoga session had started, she vowed not to let Nick Logan ruin one more class, one more hour, one more minute of her good and happy life.

“WHAT ARE YOU still doing here?”

Nick turned to find John in the doorway of the newly painted group session room. “Is it that late?”

“Eight o’clock.”

“I wanted to finish up as much as I could tonight.” He scanned the area. “Not too shabby for one day’s work, is it?”

John wandered inside. “Who paid for these?” He swiped his hand over a beanbag chair, one of a set of four. “And the futon? And the director’s chairs?”

He missed the table and “kewl” lamps, as Nick’s nieces had called them.

“Everything was cheap. I got it all at the furniture warehouse outlet.”

“How much?”

“Two fifty.”

“Did Maddie approve the expense?”

“What? Without bloodletting? No, I paid for it myself so I didn’t have to open a vein.”

“I thought so.” John slouched down into a beanbag. “Ouch. Wow, I’m getting old.”

“Try the futon.”

When John was settled on the couch, he looked up at Nick. “You can’t spend your own money on this place.”

Though social work didn’t pay big bucks, Nick lived frugally and had saved some money. “I don’t have anybody else to spend it on, except maybe my nieces.”

“Whose fault is that?”

Nick stared down at the man who was more of a father to him than his own had been. A friend Nick had almost lost because of what he’d done to Maddie.

She’s like a daughter to me and Lucy. You’re like a son. What the hell are you doing to your lives?

Nick’s response had been so weak, so milquetoast, he’d been embarrassed by it. John, when she thought she was pregnant, I began to realize what I’d gotten myself into. I wouldn’t be any good at that kind of life. I’d be like Daniel. Claire was right, I have his genes. Maddie’s better off without me.

John had practically begged. Please, Nick, don’t do this.

“Where are you, son?”

“Thinking about the past.” He glanced up at the ceiling fan Dan had put in. “I…” Damn it, he had learned something in the last three years. “About how grateful I am that you didn’t write me off after what I did to her.”

“Never gonna happen.” The expression on John’s face was full of warmth and acceptance. “No matter how hard you try to alienate everybody who cares about you.”

Nick dropped down into a director’s chair opposite him. “John, I’ve agreed to stay on. But I hope Maddie doesn’t get hurt in the process.”

“She tells me she won’t. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have hired her back.” John smoothed his hand over the light wood arm of the futon. “She’s moved on, Nick. She had a steady guy in her life for almost a year.”

“Joe?” The macho paramedic who’d dated Maddie before Nick.

“No, somebody else. Somebody serious.”

Did the lights dim? “Who?”

“A nice guy. Professor at the University of Rockford where she did her doctoral work. Lucy and I spent some time with them.”

“Huh!” His stomach roiled. “Well, I’m glad for her.”

“You should be. He worshipped the ground she walked on.”

“You talk in the past tense. What happened?”

“He got a job at American University in D.C. before Maddie came back to the Center. He wanted her to go to Washington with him.”

Couldn’t be she cared about him enough if she’d passed on that. “Why didn’t she?”

“I’m not sure.”

John waited a beat. “What about you? Any women in your life?”

“No. There was someone, but…”

She was married. Still, his relationship with Katie Gardner had been comfortable and easy. Probably because there was no danger of commitment. She’d loved her husband, but he was absent and neglectful. They’d even separated a time or two, though they always got back together again.

“But what?” John asked.

Because he was embarrassed by the affair, Nick couldn’t tell his friend the truth. “It didn’t work out. End of story.”

“All right. But I’m here if you need to talk about it.”

“Sure.”

“And do me a favor? Be careful with Maddie. Don’t oppose her on everything.”

“I— You’re right. This has all been a shock to me. And I was blindsided by the changes around here.”

“They’re solid ones.”

“Maybe. I don’t know how I’m going to manage that support group thing. The thought of spilling my guts in front of people I don’t know well, especially my colleagues, makes me crazy.” He sighed. “And, yes, I do get the irony. I ask clients to do exactly that. It’s the old ‘physician heal thyself’ cliché.”

John chuckled. “You’re not alone. A lot of mental-health workers find opening up difficult. The first time I talked about Zoe and what her death did to mine and Lucy’s marriage, I broke down.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“So, young man, if I can put it out there, you can, too.” He stood. “Now grab your car keys.”

“Why? I want to make some informational posters to put up on the walls temporarily.”

“Not now. Our church members are still bringing us food every week and there’s a spaghetti dinner waiting as we speak. Lucy would hit the roof if she knew I’d left you working here. You’re coming home with me.”

“Like the prodigal son?”

His friend’s face sobered. “Nick, why do you continue to see yourself like that?”

“Like what?”

“You know.” He nodded to the door. “And in case you don’t, Lucy will fill you in while she stuffs you with pasta.”

NICK STARED at the eight young faces in the room and felt a surge of adrenaline rush though him. “Hi, everybody. Thanks for getting here on time.”

Some of the kids said hello. A couple watched him with suspicious eyes. A boy in a beanbag chair, which he’d dragged to a far corner, was reading the posters Nick had tacked onto the wall. Another, in a wheelchair, doodled in a notebook on his lap. A girl, who’d taken the futon, appeared to be text messaging on her cell phone.

The door behind him opened before he could continue, and Nick sighed. It must be the new counselor. Though Maddie hadn’t mentioned a name, she’d assured him someone would be here. This morning they’d had a row about his paying for the furniture and he hadn’t seen her since. He pasted on a phony smile and glanced over his shoulder.

“Hi, sorry I’m late.”

“Hi, Madelyn.” He cocked his head. “What do you mean, you’re late?”

“I’m your second counselor.”

Like hell. On Monday, he’d wondered how this situation could get any worse. Now he knew. He’d had a bad enough time being around her for the three days he’d been back at the Center. There was no way he was going to share counseling duties with her.