Imperfect Match (Elixir Bachelor Billionaires #1)

“Mr. Hawthorne told me what happened. You definitely proved the mayor wrong.”

“Oh gosh! Mayor Coggeshall was being her usual small-town gossip diva, which I usually adore. But last night—God, what will everyone think of me?” I unceremoniously flop back down on the pillow, trying to recall how much of a fool I made of myself, and by association, of Charles.

He must be so freaking angry.

“Don’t worry. From what I heard, others were in no better shape. Plus, it’s a party. That’s one place you’re allowed to let loose.”

I feel the bed dip next to my head as Mrs. K places something cold onto my forehead, immediately dulling my headache.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re my mom.” I sigh without opening my eyes.

“I might not be your mom, honey, but I’m mom-like.” I hear a smile in her voice, which makes my own lips curl. “Plus, I care about you and Mr. Hawthorne as much as I care about my own kids.”

“Thank you so much.” I open my eyes and grasp her soft, cold hand on my head. “Was Charles upset?”

This time, her laughter fills the air. “He loves you too much to be upset with you.”

I sit upright in a flash, headache be damned. There’s something more urgent here.

“Did he say this to you? Like in those words? Did he say that he loves me?”

Her eyebrows furrow, and a second later, I realize my mistake.

Crap!

Aren’t I playing the part of the girl he’s head over heels in love with?

“I mean, Charles rarely shows his feelings, so I thought if he ever said something to you… I know it’s stupid.” I try to play cool, while my heart races wild.

Mrs. K thankfully smiles. “It’s not stupid at all, sweetheart. We girls love to hear if our men talk about us. I know the feeling. But you know Mr. Hawthorne better than anyone. He never says how he feels. He shows it. And you, my dear, are so good at noticing all his small gestures. That’s what makes you two perfect for each other.”

My gaze drifts from her face to the nightstand, where there’s a bottle of Advil and a small note card.

You’re sleeping so peacefully, I don’t want to wake you. I’ve already called the doctor to make a visit whenever you’re up.

Take care, butterfly. I’ll see you in the evening.

Mrs. K is right. Charles has always spoken in tiny gestures—cooking with Dad, fireworks for me, a tea party for Lulu.

The housekeeper places two white tablets in my palm and hands me a glass of water.

“You get ready now. I’ve texted the doctor, and in the meantime, I’m going to make you my personal remedy for such situations.”

She’s almost at the door when I call her. “Mrs. K, thank you for being here for Charles and me.”

“You never have to mention it, sweetheart.”

Half an hour later, I’m sitting in the living room, nursing a glass of something green that surprisingly doesn’t taste as awful as it looks, when the doorbell rings.

“Mrs. Hawthorne, how are you doing this morning?” The family doctor enters, followed by Mrs. K.

“I’m hoping in a few hours I can respond with a ‘perfectly well’ to that question.”

He chuckles, settling into an armchair beside me. “I heard you gave our mayor some well-mannered alcohol-fueled comebacks.”

“Oh God! Please don’t tell me I’ve already made the news.” I lean forward, burying my head against the pillow on my lap.

“Mr. Hawthorne would never let that happen.” Mrs. K grins when I finally look up.