Someone Like You Page 9

  He pulled out his cell, then froze when he saw the caller ID, his blood running cold.

  “Give me a sec,” he said to the guys. Or maybe he didn’t. He didn’t know what he said, only that he somehow made it to the bedroom, his thumb swiping across to accept the call. Kiwi darted into the room with him just as he closed the door.

  “Lincoln Mathis,” he answered.

  He knew before the caller said a word what was happening. He didn’t know how he knew—it’s not like he expected it, had never let himself even consider this moment—and yet somehow he knew.

  Lincoln didn’t move as the doctor broke the news. He didn’t remember hanging up. Didn’t remember dropping his phone to the carpeted bedroom floor, although he heard the thud.

  Somehow he made it to the bed, lowering himself slowly to a sitting position, his forearms braced on his thighs before he slowly lowered his head and heaved in a shuddering breath.

  For once, Kiwi wasn’t hyper, crawling all over him for attention. Instead the little dog seemed to understand that he needed comfort, and she curled up next to his hip, snout resting on his leg.

  Lincoln wasn’t sure how long he stayed there unmoving, unfeeling, but it must have been a while because there was a tentative knock on his door.

  “Mathis?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Lincoln man, you okay? You need anything?”

  He still didn’t respond.

  He heard lowered voices as his friends debated something, then Cole’s voice came through. “Man, I’m opening the door on three. If you’re naked, this is your chance to get unnaked or tell us to stay out.”

  Lincoln didn’t even lift his head.

  As promised, Cole counted to three and then the door opened.

  He lifted his head, found all of his friends watching him with identical expressions of concern.

  “She’s dead,” he managed, his voice coming out in a rasp.

  “Who’s dead?” Jake asked stepping into the room.

  “Katie. My fiancée. She’s, oh God,” he said with a rasp, head falling forward again. He couldn’t get air. “She’s dead. A pulmonary embolism. I barely know what that is, although I should. I should have prevented it; I should have…Oh God. Katie.”

  His hands covered his face.

  There was a moment of stunned silence as his friends soaked in the news that Lincoln was engaged—no, had been engaged. Not anymore. Because she was dead.

  He braced for it.

  Braced for the inevitable questions.

  Braced for What the hell.

  And Why didn’t you tell us?

  He braced for their furious, frustrated Shit, man.

  But Lincoln had never been more grateful for his friends than at that moment, because they said none of that.

  He didn’t know who wrapped an arm around his shoulder, offering comfort he hadn’t realized he needed. Cole, maybe.

  He didn’t know who clamped a hand on his other shoulder with the quiet assurance that whatever he needed, he’d have. Jake?

  He had no idea who located a roll of toilet paper—Lincoln never remembered to buy Kleenex—and set it on his knee. He thought maybe Cassidy.

  When Lincoln looked up God knew how much later, they were all there, crowded around him, Cassidy and Cole beside him on the bed, the rest of the guys sitting on the floor offering silent support.

  Lincoln nodded once in thanks.

  Mitchell nodded back.

  Not once did he reach for the toilet paper. Not once did he spill a tear.

  He was too broken for that.

  Part II

  Chapter 13

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Cassidy glanced up from his computer, then motioned Lincoln forward. “Yeah. Come in. Close the door.”

  Lincoln lifted his eyebrows at that. “Should I be nervous? You only ever close the door when you bone Emma in here or fire someone.”

  “Would you just…shut the door. And shut up, nobody’s getting boned or fired. What’s with the ball?”

  Lincoln tossed the miniature basketball from side to side. “We were playing Horse in Cole’s office.”

  Cassidy leaned back in his chair as Lincoln took a seat. “I thought I got rid of the balls after one of you morons lobbed one across the entire floor, knocking over Jo’s coffee, which then spilled on our very expensive phone system and shorted out her keyboard.”

  Lincoln held up the ball. “Replacement. And speaking of Jo, her stomach’s like a basketball. And not a miniature like this one either. Full-size basketball. You see her lately?”

  “No,” Cassidy said sarcastically. “I’m editor in chief of this magazine, spend eight-plus hours a day trying to stay on top of you hooligans, but no, Mathis, I had no idea my receptionist was six months pregnant.”

  “Six. That all? I was thinking like…ten.”

  “Do us all a favor and don’t tell her that,” Cassidy said, before lifting both hands to his chest in a catch position. “Give me the ball.”

  Lincoln didn’t stop tossing it from hand to hand. “Why?”

  “Because you’re driving me fucking nuts.”

  Lincoln snapped the ball at Cassidy with more force than necessary. The other man caught it easily, despite the fact that his game of choice was soccer. Lincoln was pretty sure his boss wanted to deflate it, but instead he merely set it to the side.

  “We need to talk.”

  “You sure you’re not breaking up with me?” Lincoln asked. He kept his tone joking, but he couldn’t stop the slight tensing of his shoulders at the seriousness of Cassidy’s expression.

  He wasn’t getting fired. He didn’t think. His work had been completely on point. He hadn’t missed a single deadline. Hell, other than taking three days’ bereavement for Katie’s funeral preparation, nothing had changed. He hadn’t let it change. He was still easygoing, fun-loving Lincoln. He was still the guy quick with a joke and easy to laugh.

  And if every quip felt hollow, if every smile felt stale…well, he was dealing with it. Not letting it impact his job.

  Or so he thought. Cassidy’s dead-serious expression said otherwise.

  “I think you need to take some time,” Cassidy said quietly.

  Lincoln jolted. He’d been expecting it, but it knocked him back all the same. “Some time for what?”

  “To grieve,” Cassidy said quietly.

  “I did, I took—”

  “Three days, I know. But Lincoln, you were going to marry Katie. And even after that became an impossibility, you cared for her for two years as though she were your wife.”

  “Someone did their homework,” Lincoln said caustically.

  “Damn straight. I had to, since you won’t tell any of us a damn thing.”

  Lincoln drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Man, I knew that was coming. I knew that you’d only be able to bite your tongue for so long before giving me shit for not coming clean. You just can’t stand not being in control, not knowing every detail—”

  “Shut the hell up,” Cassidy said, leaning forward and glaring hard at Lincoln. “You think that’s what this is? Me being a control freak? Bullshit. This is me caring about a friend who’s a mere shell of the man he was a few months ago.”

  Lincoln’s head snapped back. “What do you mean? I haven’t changed. Nothing’s changed.”

  Cassidy shook his head. “Is that what you think? That you’re the same? You’re on autopilot, Lincoln. Anyone who doesn’t know you probably wouldn’t think twice, but I know you. We all know you, and we’re all worried.”

  Lincoln wanted to deny it. Wanted to fight back. Hell, had it been only stubbornness he saw on Cassidy’s face, he might have.

  But his friend looked worried. Pained. For him.

  “You need time to mourn,” Cassidy said quietly. “We were all at the funeral. Emma was crying more than you and she didn’t even know Katie, and Emma doesn’t cry.”

  Lincoln open
ed his mouth, but Cassidy held up a hand. “Not done. I’m not going to insult you by saying you need a good cry. We all deal with grief differently. But Lincoln, you’re not dealing with it at all.”

  Lincoln blew out a breath. “So what? You’re forcing me to take a sabbatical?”

  “I think it’s a good idea. Don’t you?”

  He swallowed and, for the first time since he learned of Katie’s death, decided to let himself be all the way honest. Not raw. But honest. “I need to work, man,” he said, a little desperately. “I can’t be alone at home, just thinking about things. Thinking about her. Work’s all I have right now, and the quality of my work hasn’t suffered. You know it hasn’t.”

  “No,” Cassidy said. “It hasn’t. Which is why I’m not going to force your time away to be time off.”

  Lincoln stilled. “You’re not?”

  Cassidy steepled his fingers. “You need a change of scenery. A change of routine.”

  “How the hell do you know what I need? I’ve got this, I’m just—”

  “Because I’m your boss, and your friend,” Cassidy snapped back. “I know you think you’ve got this, but you’re like an empty, wisecracking robot, so no, you don’t got anything.”

  “What about everything that needs to be done here?”

  “I’ve found a guy. Nick Ballantine. He’s good, but he’s only looking for part-time, temporary. Your job will be here when you get back.”

  “What if the other guy starts angling for a full-time gig?”

  “He won’t. Guys like him thrive on the short-term challenge, don’t want the 401(k) and the corner office.”

  “Tell that to Jake and Cole,” Lincoln said.

  Both Jake Malone and Cole Sharpe had been contractors before accepting full-time positions, and Lincoln didn’t exactly relish the idea that this Nick Ballantine might be angling for his job.

  “Fair point,” Cassidy said. “But we’ll deal with that if it comes up, find something for him if he’s a fit. Either way, he’s not taking your job. Trust me on this.”

  “Fine.” Lincoln held up his hands in pissed-off surrender. “Where am I being exiled to?”

  Cassidy looked away, and Lincoln’s eyes narrowed; he knew he wasn’t going to like what came next.

  “Here’s my thinking,” Cassidy said, his gaze coming back to Lincoln. “You do damn good stuff with your section, but if we don’t watch it, Oxford’s going to pigeonhole itself into a city-man’s magazine. We want to be urbane, yes, but we also want to be universal.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that while we’re damn good about telling men how to seduce a woman in SoHo, the fact is that dating and wooing in Manhattan is its own animal.”

  “Wooing?” Lincoln repeated under his breath.

  “I was thinking maybe a compare/contrast. You know, what different women in different cities are looking for. Is it the same? Completely opposite? You could do a fish-out-of-water piece, interview them, figure out all the ways we city guys would crash and burn trying to woo a Southern girl.”

  “First of all, if I were in a dating place right now, I wouldn’t crash and burn. Second of all, you know by now that I was never a playboy, only playing the part. And third…dude, Cassidy…are you sending me to a farm?”

  “Yes, Lincoln. I’m sending you to a farm. Thought you and Kiki—”

  “Kiwi.”

  “—Kiwi could sleep in a barn with the pigs. Jesus. I was thinking something more intermediate.”

  Lincoln only narrowed his eyes and waited.

  “Something more medium town, with a touch of Southern to keep things interesting.”

  It took Lincoln all of thirty seconds to get where Cassidy was going with this. “North Carolina. You want to send me to Charlotte.”

  “Strictly optional. If there’s another city you’d prefer, I’m open to it so long as it gets you away from the Northeast and bad memories. But I’ll throw it out there that Daisy’s big old mansion has a fully furnished guesthouse, fancy kitchen, private—”

  Lincoln tilted his head back and laughed, although there was very little joy in it. “You’re either trying to set me up, or you’re trying to assign me a babysitter. I’m not sure which is worse.”

  “It’s neither,” Cassidy said calmly.

  Lincoln’s laughter died as he realized his boss was serious.

  “Look, I’d never think to play matchmaker so soon after your loss. Neither would Emma. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be Daisy.”

  He couldn’t help it. His gut clenched at the mention of her. He’d barely heard from her since he pulled back several months ago, even before Katie’s death. She’d sent him a message the morning of the funeral, just a simple I’m so sorry, and though he’d appreciated it, he hadn’t responded. Not to her, not to anyone.

  “Why not Daisy?” Lincoln asked, before he could stop himself.

  “Because she’s just as damaged as you are,” Cassidy said quietly.

  Lincoln wanted to ask more about that, but didn’t. “So a babysitter then.”

  “Why would you need a babysitter?” Cassidy asked, looking genuinely puzzled.

  “Well there’s got to be some reason you’re sending me there and not a random, anonymous city.”

  “Yes, two reasons. The first comes from me as your boss. The guesthouse and kitchen will be free, which means the only things coming out of my Oxford budget are your rental car, grocery bill, and whatever money you expense as you research the Charlotte dating scene.”

  “And the second reason?”

  His boss blew out a breath. “That one’s more personal. Because I care about you.”

  Lincoln shifted in embarrassment. Cassidy wasn’t exactly a man of words. None of them were, except maybe Cole, and even Cole played it cool most of the time.

  Cassidy picked up the ball, tossed it from hand to hand in the very same way Lincoln had earlier, before catching himself and setting it aside.

  “I’m not exiling you, it’s just a…remote assignment. Neither you nor Daisy is in a place for romance, and neither of you is in need of a watcher, but there is something you both need quite desperately.”

  “I can hardly wait to hear.”

  Cassidy picked up the ball again, chucked it at Lincoln, who caught it just before it hit his face. “You need a friend, moron. More specifically, you need a damned friend you’ll actually talk to.”

  “And you think that friend might be Daisy?”

  Cassidy lifted his eyebrows in a challenge. “Don’t you?”

  Chapter 14

  “So let me get this straight,” Whitney said, trailing after Daisy with a glass of Chardonnay in hand. “The finest-looking man on the planet is coming to stay with you, and you’re putting him in the guesthouse?”

  “Yes,” Daisy explained patiently as she rearranged some white tulips in a nonfussy vase. “Because he’s a guest.”

  “But you don’t deny that he’s the finest-looking man on the planet,” Whitney countered, pointing her wine at Daisy.

  Daisy laughed. “No. I don’t deny it. But he’s not coming here looking to get laid, so you can just put your boobs away.”

  Whitney shimmied. “I wore a special pushup, just for him. When’s his plane land again?”

  Daisy glanced at her watch. “Five minutes ago. But I imagine he’s got a bunch of luggage, plus he’s got to get the rental car, drive here, blah blah blah.”

  Whitney wasn’t listening. She was too busy checking her cleavage in the mirror.

  “Whitney.”

  Her friend turned, and Daisy held her gaze. “You know I love you to death, but this man just lost his fiancée. And yes, technically he’s here to write about the Charlotte dating scene, but he’s not actually looking for…you know.”

  Whitney’s face softened. “I know, Daiz. I mean, yeah, I wanted to give his eyes a little treat, but I’m not going to make a move, promise. You like him, which means I like him. Plus, I like that you won’t be alone all the way o
ut here.”

  “ ‘All the way out here’ meaning an easy drive from your place?”

  “You know what I mean. There’s no neighbors, really. I hate thinking of you being lonely.”

  Daisy wanted to reassure her friend that she wasn’t, but the truth was that she was a little lonely. When Emma had called and tentatively pitched the idea of Lincoln coming to stay, she had said yes practically before Emma finished her sentence.

  Partially because she wanted company, partially because she wanted to help a man in mourning, but also…

  Because she missed him.

  She understood why he’d pulled back, even before Katie’s death. Really she did. And it had been for the best.

  But she’d almost immediately missed their easy rapport. It had taken two lackluster blind dates for Daisy to realize just how clearly rare it was to click with another person, even on the friendship level.

  And she’d clicked with Lincoln.

  Whitney reached out a hand and stroked a tulip bud. “I don’t even know this guy, and it makes my heart hurt thinking about what he’s gone through. How’d you say she died again?”

  “Pulmonary embolism,” Daisy said, reaching out and taking her friend’s wineglass, helping herself to a sip. “I guess it’s not uncommon for people who are mostly sedentary. A blood clot formed in her leg, which then broke off and got stuck in her lung. It blocked the flow of blood to her heart.”

  “So it was fast?” Whitney asked quietly.

  Daisy lifted her shoulders. “I hope so.”

  Whitney studied her for several seconds before looking down at her watch. “You know what? I think I’m gonna go.”

  “Really? I thought you were dying to meet him?”

  “Oh I am. I so am. But I keep letting myself forget that he’s not a pretty toy. He’s a man who’s been hurt, and I don’t think my fab rack is what he needs right now. He needs a familiar face, maybe a bit of quiet.”

  Daisy felt a rush of affection for her friend. Under all that noise and overt sexuality, Whitney was more sensitive than she ever let on.