The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

“Oh my God!” Celeste cracks up. “Who is this woman?” I’m confused as to why she’s referring to me in the third person until I see her eyes trained on something—or someone—behind me. I turn around to find Nick standing in the doorway, a huge grin splayed across his lips.

“She’s the woman I’m going to fall in love with, and who’s going to fall in love with me.” He smiles warmly at me, and my heart picks up speed. Unsure of what to say, I chug down the rest of the wine in my glass, and Nick chuckles.

“How did you get here so fast?” I ask.

“Killian lives one floor below me.” He shoots me a wink that has the muscles between my legs clenching. “I didn’t realize when I was talking to you that you were still on my floor. I thought you had already left to go back home. Otherwise, I would’ve come right up.”

“Told you,” Celeste says as she stands. “Well, this has been fun, but I need to get going, and I’m almost afraid the love in the air might be contagious.” She scrunches her nose and mock-gags.

I stand with her, and the three of us walk back into the apartment. Celeste takes my empty glass and places it on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and her now-empty glass. “Everything of mine should be packed. The movers will be by in the morning to pick it all up.” She leans into Nick, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she turns to me.

“I’m assuming since you know about our pact, you know Nick and I have been friends our entire lives. You got one thing right. I don’t have a lot of friends, so if it’s possible I would like to be friends. Nick’s important to me, and I know you’re important to him.”

“Of course, we’re going to be besties.” I wink. “How else am I going to make sure you find true love?” I grin, Nick laughs, and Celeste groans.

“And that’s my cue to leave.” She pulls her purse over her shoulder and walks toward the door. But before she opens it, she turns around and says, “By the way, when I was on my fact-finding mission to dig up dirt on you in hopes of getting you out of the picture, I read that Francesca Harper was your mom. Is that true?”

The mention of my mom has my heart tightening. “Yes, she was.”

“She was my idol.” Celeste smiles. “I literally wanted to be her when I grew up. She was walking the runway at the show I was at when I was twelve years old. Nick was there, too. Every person watching was captivated by her beauty and elegance. When I came to New York right after I graduated from high school, I was lucky enough to meet her… right before…” As Celeste’s words trail off, a lump forms in my throat because I know the words she can’t say: she was diagnosed with cancer and then died. It all happened so quickly. One day she was healthy and the next she wasn’t. Less than a year after she was diagnosed, we lost her.

“I swear I cried for a week when she passed away,” Celeste admits, “which says a lot since I don’t cry.” She sniffles and then smiles softly. “I’m sorry for your loss. I can’t even imagine what it was like to have her as a mother.”

“She was amazing…” I bite my lip to keep myself from crying. “But not because of how famous she was as a model, but because as a mother and a wife, she was the best. She always put me first and loved me unconditionally. She would let me play with all her makeup and clothes.” I laugh, recalling all the times I would get into her stuff and she would never get upset. “Some of her model friends had kids, and they would come over to visit occasionally. The other moms were so stuck up. One time while they were having brunch we got into all of her clothes and makeup to put on a surprise fashion show.” I smile at the memory. “The other kids’ moms freaked out. But not mine. She pulled out her camera and took pictures, and then told the other moms to pull the stick out of their butts.” Celeste laughs.

“And the love my parents had was like no other. Every Friday night was date night. Even when she was away, they would video chat and pretend to be on a date. She used to tell me that just because they were married didn’t mean they stopped dating.”

“She sounds like she was a truly wonderful person,” Nick says.

“She was…and she was a beautiful model,” I tell them, “but only because she loved with everything she had.” The tears that were threatening to spill over, fall, and Nick pulls me in for a hug. When we break apart, Celeste is watching us. She doesn’t comment on anything I said, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s absorbing the meaning behind my words.