Dr. Good - A Man Who Knows What He Wants

“Look at me.”

For a heart-tugging moment, I’m sure my aunt has come back from the grave. Kayla reminds me so much of her, right down to the commanding tone of voice she just used, but somehow she managed to soften it so she didn’t come across as over the top.

It’s a skill my aunt honed after years of working with belligerent movie directors.

I turn my gaze to her, staring into her Miller-like eyes.

“Whatever my son has said to you, it’s the truth. He’s… well, he’s never had many girlfriends. Don’t get me wrong, he’s had his share of women try to get their hands on him. He’s wealthy and he attracts certain types. But he’s never been in a real relationship. When I asked him why, do you know what he said?”

“What?” I ask, enraptured.

“He said he was waiting for his perfect girl. I laughed and told him no such woman exists. But he was adamant that if he couldn’t find her, the woman who made him feel, who he had to have, then he would die alone. Before you came along, he was ready to accept that fate. You changed everything. I could hear it in his voice last night. And there’s something else…”

Her smile spreads kindly across her face, her eyes twinkling playfully.

“You feel the same, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I say, even if I didn’t plan to. “Okay? Yes. Yes, I freaking do. But what if he’s lying to me?”

“He’s not,” Kayla says flatly. “After my husband, his father passed, Miller changed. He became more withdrawn. He was only twelve when my dear Trent decided to go hang-gliding. Hang-gliding. He always was a thrill seeker. It’s one of the things that made me love him so much. But hang-gliding in that weather? It was foolish.”

She sighs, moving a hand through her snow-white hair.

“In any case, Miller was not the same after that. I stopped believing a long time ago anybody would be able to puncture the defenses he’s built up around himself. But somehow, after only a short while, you did. You did the impossible.”

“He’s not tricking me? This isn’t some game?”

“Oh, Macie, I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” I snap with some fire in my voice.

“That your stalker and whoever else – whatever monsters bullied you and ridiculed you – have made you so wary. Perhaps you’re right to be wary. In most cases, this would be ludicrous. But you and Miller, this thing between you, it is not most cases.”

“I want to believe you,” I murmur. “But there’s still a chance…”

“I swear on my dead husband’s life. I swear on Miller’s life. This is the real thing.”

I gasp, both at the words at the solemn way she said them, as though intoning a spell from one of my beloved fantasy stories.

“But what if he’s lying to you?”

She shakes her head firmly. “Miller is a terrible liar, just like his father. It’s one of the things that makes – that made – my husband so special. And, on top of not being able to lie to me, he rarely does, except to say my cooking is delicious when it’s anything but.”

I laugh, gesturing at the pancakes. “I don’t know about that. These smell pretty great.”

“Yes, dear, but there’s a big difference between smell and taste, isn’t there?”

“So all that crazy stuff he said to me,” I murmur, “all this crazy stuff I’m feeling, you really think it’s real?”

“Yes,” she says, with iron certainty in her voice. “There isn’t a single doubt in my mind that Miller means what he said. He cares about you. I know, I know… it should be impossible. It doesn’t make sense. So what? Affairs of the soul rarely do.”

I sigh. “I freaked on him last night, Kayla. I yelled at him to get out of my room. It was like I was back in high school and Derrick – that’s my stalker – had barged into one of my classes and started making a scene. I couldn’t stop myself.”

She reaches over and places her hand atop mine, squeezing softly, looking at me with soft acceptance in her eyes. “Talk to him. I’m sure you can work it out.”

I nod, blinking back foolish tears.

“Oh, dear…”

She wraps her arm around me and pulls me into a hug.

I collapse into the embrace, angry at myself for letting go like this. But it’s like all the heartache I’ve been stowing up since my aunt’s death is spilling out now, a busted hydrant I can’t do anything to stop.

“I’m sorry,” I sob. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Hush,” she whispers, stroking my back. “You don’t have to apologize.”

So I let the pain out instead, sinking into her embrace, letting myself dream for a warm moment about what it would be like to have this woman as my mother-in-law.

Chapter Fourteen