Not Quite Perfect (Oakland Hills Book 3) by Gretchen Galway Page A

throat. It was their love that was making her cry. Liam had found the same elusive treasure with Bev.
    Both Mark and Liam had been emotionally starved workaholics—yet they’d each gotten something she was no closer to having than when she was a rebellious, immature teenager.
    It was her own fault. She’d done everything wrong. She’d hung out in bars, partied with friends, never committed to a career. She hadn’t cared about winning gold medals or being admired or making millions—she’d just wanted to be happy.
    But being a flaky chick without a job hadn’t made her happy. She needed a purpose in life. More hours with her paint and pastels, more hours with a computer stylus and tablet. If she developed herself as a person, maybe someday—and she could be ninety-seven, God knew she was a late bloomer—she would find a companion of some sort who could keep her company in her later years.
    In the meantime, she was going to keep her head out of the clouds. Chasing worthless men was one reason she lived with her mother and couldn’t afford high-end art supplies.
    “I’m getting this one,” Rose said, coming out in jeans and a sweater, holding the dress. “It shows a totally inappropriate amount of cleavage, but it makes me feel beautiful. And it’s on sale.”
    “Don’t worry about money,” April said. “Tell her not to worry about money, Mark.”
    “Don’t worry about money,” he said, leaning over to kiss Rose. Now that his woman was back in sight, his conversation with April was forgotten.
    “Honey, this is what ‘on sale’ looks like.” Rose pulled out the tag and held it up to his face.
    His eyes widened. “I sold my last car for less than that.”
    He’d sold it to April, who was grateful to have any car at all. “That’s not saying much,” April said.
    The large group at the front of the store was migrating toward the back to get measured. “I’ll wait for you two outside,” April said, starting to walk away.
    “Hold it,” Mark said. “We were talking, weren’t we?”
    “Don’t worry about it.” April gave him a big hug, kissed Rose on the cheek, and left them to enjoy their bubble of happiness.
    * * *
    The following Thursday evening, April was wiping baby vomit off her fingers with an aloe-scented wipe when Liam stuck his head in through the bedroom doorway.
    “Zack Fain will be here in ten minutes,” he said. “Actually, next door. Mom’s cooking lasagna.”
    April stared at him. He didn’t look drunk. “Who?”
    She hadn’t talked to Zack since that quick lunch before Christmas. In fact, he’d been keeping such a low profile, she might’ve thought he’d left the company if Bev and Liam hadn’t mentioned the reports he’d given them.
    Ten minutes? She caught her breath.
    As Liam’s harried gaze moved to Merry, a smile broke out across his face. “Hello, sunshine.” He strode over, unclasped the changing table belt, and lifted a naked, delighted Merry into his arms. Probably because of all the lessons April had given him about staying mellow, Merry didn’t burst into tears, not even when he lifted her up and made a deafening raspberry on her baby potbelly.
    Still finding it difficult to breathe properly, April plucked another wipe out of the box. It was amazing how much nastiness could come out of such a tiny, adorable creature. Although at four months, her niece wasn’t so tiny anymore. She had Bev’s dark hair but Liam’s size, topping the growth charts at the pediatrician’s office.
    “That’s my girl,” Liam said, bouncing her in his arms. “What do you think, April? Wrestling? Basketball? Look at the muscles she’s got. She’s cut .”
    “Careful with the bouncing,” she said, wondering if she’d heard wrong, if the vomit fumes had pickled her brains. “She was covered in spit-up a minute ago.” She rubbed away the white muck that had gotten under her rings. She swallowed. “Did you say Zack Fain?”
    His smile didn’t fade, but he did move