Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5)

Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) by Catherine Bybee

Book: Not Quite Perfect (Not Quite Series Book 5) by Catherine Bybee Read Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Bybee
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hold baby Leo and preach which family member he took after. Then there was Monica . . . the woman was a true friend. She spoke with the nurses on staff, talked with a supervisor about having a physical therapist make a half dozen home visits once Dakota was discharged. Her mind turned to Glen and she purposely shook her head and stared at the setting sun. The vibrant purple and pink that skirted along the blue sea helped her mind clear.
    In her purse, her phone buzzed.
    She dug it free without losing sight of the last moments of the sun. “Mary Kildare.”
    “Most people just say hello.”
    Mary let her eyes close and fought the smile that attempted to cross her lips.
    “Most people don’t start a conversation with an insult.”
    Glen, with a husky sound she’d become a little too fond of, chuckled.
    “Hello, Mary.”
    She followed his lead. “Hello, Glen.”
    There was a slight delay in the line, which made their conversation stutter. “Where are you?” she asked.
    “Somewhere over Texas.”
    So he was on a plane. She assumed as much. Instead of asking why he was calling, she waited for him to speak.
    He hesitated . . . or maybe it was the delay. “Do you have plans this Saturday?”
    She gripped the phone a little too tight. “Why are you asking?”
    “We both know why I’m asking.”
    Mary paused and held her breath. “I don’t have any plans.”
    “Great. I’ll pick you up at four.”
    The sun was already gone. “I don’t believe I said yes.”
    He laughed. “I don’t believe you said no.”
    Any other man, any other time, she’d tell him to ask . . . make him work a little harder to secure a date. “Fly safe.”
    “See you Saturday.”
    He was about to hang up.
    “Wait . . . what should I wear?”
    “I’d like to say those tiny shorts you wear to bed, but I think a simple dress will do.”
    Mary covered her face in her hand. Her boy shorts . . . he’d seen her butt hanging out of her pajamas.
    He hung up laughing. No good-bye, not a see you later . . . simply disconnected the call.
    And Mary smiled.

    The morning provided her with a wake-up call from Nina. Apparently the Golfs were going to do their best to ensure her sleep deprivation for the week. At least Nina called her cell phone.
    “He is crazy.”
    He being Jacob, and on that they could both agree. Though Mary wasn’t about to say it.
    It took ten minutes to talk Nina down and another ten to set an appointment for later in the week. According to Nina, she’d left the house after Jacob had accused her of lying about where she’d been the other night. And according to Nina, she went to a girlfriend’s house who Jacob didn’t know well and stayed with her. Not that any of this was news . . . or that believable, from what Nina had told Mary in the past. But perhaps the woman was justifying her possible split of the relationship. Much as Mary attempted to help couples in turmoil work things out, sometimes some relationships were destined to fail. Unfortunately, her ratio of marriages that held out with counseling was about fifty percent. That only counted the splits she’d been told about. No telling if a couple called it quits years later once their counseling sessions had ended.
    Truth was, by the time couples stepped into her office, a lot of damage and miscommunication had already taken place. Years of problems that took a lot of dusting under carpets weren’t easy. It was in part why Mary was so brutally honest with her dates. She couldn’t see sugarcoating anything from day one.
    She didn’t always work with couples. In fact, only half of her clients were attempting to keep their relationships with their significant others intact. She had clients who struggled with depression and phobias. Those with abusive pasts, both as victims and perpetrators. But in truth, she didn’t often take on clients on the latter end of that scale. She was a counselor, not a doctor, and although she’d been trained to speak

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