Dirty Deal (Perfectly Matched 2)

He turned his car around but didn’t go back to the wedding. Their split might have been for the best, but he didn’t have the heart or the stomach to endure a party or his sister’s wrath right now. Instead, he headed for the beach where he and Serena had been together that first night.

Once he was along the shore, he sank back and stared up at the starry night, repeating to himself over and over that he had done the right thing.

Because if he said it enough, maybe he would start to believe it.

…

Mondays should never be this bright.

As if starting the week weren’t bad enough, the sunshine brought insult to injury, and as Bryan muscled out of his truck, he shielded himself from the sun’s menacing glare. It wasn’t as though having a hangover on a Monday was against the law, so why did Mother Nature have to punish him for it?

Once again he found himself at the old warehouse-turned-photography-studio, but this time when he stepped though the wide metal doors, only Grace was waiting for him. A blank white canvas was set up as it had been before, but there were no buckets of props, no tables of snacks. No snooty photographer.

And no Serena.

“You look cheery today,” Grace called, and the echo around the open space throbbed in time with his headache.

“I’m peachy.” They were the first words he’d said since waking up this morning, and it showed. Grace’s mouth quirked to the side as she surveyed him from top to bottom.

“Maybe I should have been more specific about how I wanted you to show up for this commercial,” she said.

Her tone was clipped, but she dropped her gaze and began rummaging in her enormous purse.

“What do you mean? I’ve got the army gear on.” He gestured to his T-shirt, and Grace sighed, finally coming up with a makeup bag so big it must have been an industrial model.

“I mean you’re going to be in front of the camera. Do you think I want some bedraggled-looking scrub telling the world how happy and in love he is? I may as well give you a forty-ouncer and tell you to shoot the Saint Patrick’s Day special ad.” She dumped the contents of her pouch onto a nearby table, and items of every shape, size, and color spilled out. She eyed his face and shook her head mournfully. “I have no idea what’s going to fix this.”

He could have argued with her, normally would have, but it wasn’t worth the energy. Instead, he sank onto a metal folding chair by her table of makeup and watched as she examined her wares.

“So, did you throw a kegger or something?” she asked, finally coming at him with a sponge and some goopy-looking liquid.

“No.”

“What’s with the hangover?” she asked.

Couldn’t she guess? Serena must have told her by now.

Unless it didn’t really mean that much to her. Maybe she was skipping around the office all day long. That would be a good thing, right? That was what he wanted. Serena to be happy.

But he knew better. She was probably almost as miserable as he was. In any case, Grace must have found out what had happened. She just wanted to make him say it. As if she weren’t already responsible for enough misery in his life.

Well, that was fine, but he wouldn’t be giving her the satisfaction. “You know why,” he said.

“’Fraid not,” she shot back and dabbed his forehead the slightest bit too hard. The stuff was cold, but less slimy than it had looked. God only knew what an angry woman with a makeup brush could accomplish, though.

“Serena and I are done,” he admitted, caving. He needed to talk to someone and Q was giving him the old freeze-out.

“Ah, that. Well.” She swabbed underneath his eyes until they watered.

Some time passed in silence while she continued to work on him, primping and prodding until he felt like he was halfway ready to compete for Miss America.

He wanted to ask. The question had been on the tip of his tongue since the night it happened. Every single moment he spent alone, he turned it over in his head. And now Grace was here. Grace who would definitely know the answer.

He couldn’t pass up the chance, even if the answer would feel worse than the hell he was living with now.

“How is Serena handling it?” he said.

Grace stopped sifting through the mountain of makeup just long enough to examine him over her shoulder. “Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Because he felt the pang of missing her with every breath? Because every time he tried to close his eyes and sleep on the rollaway cot in his sister’s house he imagined he was still lying next to Serena? Because he still had the business card she’d given him tucked into his wallet like a medal of honor?

“I just…do,” he said.

“Well if that’s the reason, you should ask her yourself.” And like that, Grace was back on her mission.

“It’s not that easy,” he said.

“I can imagine.” Grace approached him with a new powdery substance in hand, but he held up a palm to stop her.

“You can’t. I have obligations. And, yeah, the little karaoke stunt freaked me out some, but it’s more than that. I’m not going to be here. I can’t offer her anything…I can’t be good for someone else if I’m never around. Don’t you want better for your friend?”

Grace’s black ringlets bounced as she stepped back. The hard edges around her mouth softened, and this time when she studied him it was with pity.

“I’m sorry, Bryan. I’m being hard on you.” She blinked once, her jaw working as if she was unsure how much to say. Finally, she added, “Serena’s…not doing great.”

He thought it would hurt to hear that she was well. That she strolled into work belting out show tunes every morning.

But knowing she was as miserable he was? It only made things immeasurably worse.

“I’ve heard Alanis Morissette so many times that I’m now against the very idea of irony. Though I guess this whole thing is sort of ironic,” Grace said.

“What do you mean ironic?” He put down his hand and let her continue patting his cheeks.

“Well, Serena losing someone because she was too gushy? It’s a little…odd. Normally she hates that stuff. She actually booed and hissed at the end of Dirty Dancing…” Grace shook her head and went on, “I couldn’t believe it when she told me her plan. But, you know, love does strange things to people.” She shrugged and then patted Bryan on the shoulder.

“You think she actually loves me?” That couldn’t be true. Maybe infatuated, but love? After such a short period of time?

“Absolutely.” Grace nodded. “But if you tell her I said so, I will deny it. Indefatigably.”

“I’m not so sure,” he hedged.

“Well, take it from an expert.” She stepped back to admire her handiwork, then stared deep into his eyes before she continued. “I know love when I see it. I saw that starry-eyed expression when she talked about you. I saw every symptom. Just like I saw them in you.”

His heart squeezed at the words, and even though he wanted to argue, he couldn’t find it in him to follow through.

Because maybe that’s what this was. The strange gnawing on his insides until all of his organs felt like they were collapsing at once.

That might be one explanation. But he wasn’t willing to go down so easily with that ship.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say,” he said.

“I don’t want you to say anything.” Grace tossed her beauty equipment into her bag. “I want you to listen. Then maybe things will start to clear up. You know, obsession is a different thing than love.”

“I didn’t—” The sinking in his stomach extended that much farther. If he fell any lower, he’d be lounging in the pit of hell itself.

“I know. I’m an expert at this stuff.” She winked and zipped her purse closed. “And from this point forward it is none of my business. But believe me when I tell you, there is no one out there more perfect for you than Serena.”

It was the way she said it. With a surety that shook him to his bones. Serena was right. Grace was magic and damn it, she knew something. Maybe she’d known something all along, which was why she’d manufactured this whole thing from the start. The auction, pretending to need him for her commercials. It was all to get him and Serena together. He had no proof of any of it, but he knew it just the same.

But he still he had one more question on his mind, and before he shot this commercial and finished his time with Grace Love forever, he was going to get it answered.

“Why me?” He started toward the set.

To her credit, she didn’t bother playing dumb. Instead, she smiled brightly. “Call it intuition.”