Not That Kind of Guy Read online

  TITLES BY ANDIE J. CHRISTOPHER

  Not the Girl You Marry

  Not That Kind of Guy

  A JOVE BOOK

  Published by Berkley

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  penguinrandomhouse.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Andrea L. Manka

  Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.

  A JOVE BOOK, BERKLEY, and the BERKLEY & B colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Christopher, Andie J., author.

  Title: Not that kind of guy / Andie J. Christopher.

  Description: First edition. | New York: Jove, 2020.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019051056 (print) | LCCN 2019051057 (ebook) | ISBN 9781984802705 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781984802712 (ebook)

  Subjects: GSAFD: Love stories. | Humorous fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3603.H7628 N67 2020 (print) | LCC PS3603.H7628 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019051056

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019051057

  First Edition: April 2020

  Cover design and illustration by Colleen Reinhart

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  pid_prh_5.5.0_c0_r0

  To Gus,

  who made me happy and remains a very good boy

  CONTENTS

  Titles by Andie J. Christopher

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  BRIDGET NOLAN HAD DECIDED to marry Chris Dooley the day he took a piss in her kiddie pool. Like not a British “took the piss,” but an actual piss. To her credit, she didn’t decide to marry him until his mother dragged him away by the ear from said kiddie pool and took his Game Boy. It was his tear-streaked face while he apologized—with the sole purpose of getting his handheld gaming system back—that sealed the deal.

  In her four-year-old mind, anyone who could apologize as beautifully as Chris Dooley—who cared that much about hurting her feelings—had to be a keeper. It didn’t even matter that her dad had to clean out the pink plastic kiddie pool with bleach while cursing a blue streak.

  The kiddie-pool incident was his first apology to her even though he’d already been the major source of consternation in her short life. Prior to the pool incident, he hadn’t apologized for pulling her pigtail so hard the curl her mother had painstakingly constructed for her brother Jack’s First Communion party went flat—and lopsided pigtails were definitely worthy of an apology. The lack thereof had made it impossible for her to stop thinking about him for weeks.

  And he hadn’t apologized when he poked her in the eye with his Super Soaker at her other brother Michael’s birthday party a month later. He’d merely looked chagrined when Bridget’s mom had “accidentally” thwacked him in the back of the head with her water gun. Even her mother’s vengeance hadn’t stopped her from thinking about him.

  When she’d told her mother that Chris Dooley had taken over at least half of her waking thoughts, she’d said, “He probably just has a crush on you. Ignore it and he’ll go away.” But he hadn’t gone away. And her thoughts of him had only intensified. The only solution would be to marry him. Maybe then she could stop thinking about him. It had certainly worked that way for her parents.

  Her commitment to marry Chris had been deadly serious—much more so because she’d made it in the midst of her parents’ divorce. Unlike the elder Nolans, she was never going to get a divorce. She would never rip a family apart the way hers was rent at the seams.

  She’d finally started dating Chris Dooley officially when she was fifteen and he was seventeen. He’d finally started using her first name instead of calling her “Little Nolan,” which constantly reminded her that she was the baby of the family, and totally below any interest of his that would include kissing.

  However, even being her boyfriend had not decreased his rate of asshole moves to apologies. And Bridget had just eaten the apologies he gave her and starved the rest of the time. That’s what a relationship was to her—surviving on crumbs. In a way, it made her understand her mother leaving. It wasn’t like her dad emoted very much. But she was stronger than her mother had been and would never give up just because a relationship wasn’t precisely to her specifications. And she’d dated Chris for a dozen years to prove it.

  She thought that he’d chosen her, just like she’d chosen him every day since he’d peed in her kiddie pool. She’d thought they were playing for keeps.

  Until she realized that she did not want to play for keeps—definitely not with Chris. And maybe not with anyone.

  All of her carefully laid plans about the kind of future she would have—where they’d live, how many children they’d have, and how they’d manage to pay off their student loans right in time to send their own kids to school—had gone up in smoke over about ten minutes. She’d nuked her whole life before her mashed potatoes had cooled off enough to eat.

  After Chris left her apartment in a hurry, confused and full of the shame/rage thing that some guys did whenever things didn’t go their way, she kind of fell apart for a while. She’d shed actual tears even though she’d previously thought that she was missing the gene that would allow her to feel sorry for herself.

  Bridget expressing actual human emotions had thrown her dad and brothers off a bit. They didn’t know how to handle her when she wasn’t her put-together, perfectionis
t self. For a while, she’d noticed that they would exchange looks when she made it over for dinner or game night. When that happened—their roles reversed so they were the ones worried about her instead of the other way around—she knew she had to get her shit together.

  After she’d dealt with the emotional and physical remnants of the future she no longer had or wanted, she hadn’t looked back.

  She was a Nolan, for Christ’s sake. Nolans didn’t wallow in the past. Nolans didn’t cry over the demise of a romantic relationship— at least her father hadn’t after her mom walked out on him. They bucked up and moved on.

  A few months after the breakup, she’d decided that she was through with crying, thinking, and talking about the relationship. In fact, she was going to stop crying, thinking, or talking about any relationship. She wasn’t any good at them anyway. In fact, romantic relationships were the only thing that she was really bad at. Maybe she got it from her dad. Once the idea that she didn’t have to be in a relationship really sank into her psyche, it was simple to decide to focus on her career, her friends, her family, and herself. And no one else.

  And, to be honest, she was kind of relieved. She was done doing the emotional labor for an overgrown baby man.

  She was happy to be helping to plan her brother’s wedding instead of her own. This brunch wasn’t really planning—it was more of a war strategy session—with her brother’s newly minted fiancée, Hannah, and Hannah’s best friend, Sasha. They were both wedding and event planners, so this shit was serious.

  And, to her surprise, she didn’t think about what it might be like to be doing this with Chris. It had been so long since they’d broken up, she barely thought about him at all anymore. At first, he’d been sort of like a phantom, haunting her at odd moments. But when she focused on other things, she realized that she was definitely better off without him.

  Bridget was grateful that they’d hit a cycling class first, because she’d needed to burn off some energy before diving into wedding planning. Not that Hannah wasn’t beyond lovely and way too good for her middle brother. The whole thing just made her remember that she was a failure at relationships.

  Bridget’s future sister-in-law raised her glass. “So, here’s the game plan—no hashtags, no fairy lights, not a single, solitary, fucking mason jar.” She pointed her mimosa at Bridget and Sasha. “Just you two as my bridesmaids.”

  “Me?” Bridget hadn’t known Hannah for that long, and she’d assumed that her bridal party would be populated by her college friends. Not being a part of the wedding party would also aid in her efforts to avoid running into Chris at the wedding. She could wear green and white and blend in with the giant floral arrangements with a magnum of champagne. She’d emerge for the toasts and then slink back into the greenery like that GIF of Homer Simpson disappearing into a hedge.

  As a bridesmaid, she would have no such quarter. There would be the rehearsal dinner, the pictures, the dancing—thank God Hannah wouldn’t do a big bridal party entrance at the reception—but there would also be the toasts and the smiling and the keeping her inflamed case of irritation toward her ex bottled up for hours at a time. She would probably snap at least one molar if she couldn’t land at least one or two cutting barbs about how his suit game had deteriorated since she’d stopped picking out his clothes.

  She didn’t want him back, but his face had turned remarkably punch-worthy since they broke up.

  “Yes, you.” Hannah scoffed as though Bridget’s surprise was ridiculous. “We have brunch almost every weekend and you’re going to be my sister, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Is this just for Jack’s sake?”

  “Well, he does make me see God on a regular basis.” Hannah smirked, and Sasha blushed. Bridget just tried to keep her shrimp and grits down. “But I wouldn’t invite you to be in my bridal party if you were an asshole. I’d make you be his groom’s bitch.”

  Bridget shook her head, suppressing a laugh. Hannah was nothing like any of the girls Jack had dated before her, who were all fine. But Hannah was irreverent—bordering on crass—and Bridget loved the hell out of her. Hannah was the only kind of woman she could see her brother with in the long term. Her brother needed someone who wouldn’t let him get away with anything.

  Sasha leaned in. “Are you seeing anyone?” That seemed apropos of nothing right now.

  “Of course not.” Bridget had just told her family that she didn’t have time to date. Which was true. She also prosecuted sex crimes as an assistant state’s attorney. Given what she saw at her day job, she didn’t have the inclination to meet strange men, even in public places.

  “It’s been two years.” Like Hannah needed to remind her.

  Sasha leaned in even closer. “Are you still in love with Chris?”

  “No,” she answered firmly. That was one thing she was sure of. Sometimes she missed being part of a couple. Missed having someone to text or call when something interesting or funny happened. She missed having someone to cuddle up with on a Friday night with Netflix. But if that was all she missed, she could just get a dog. A dog would probably be more loyal than a guy she’d wasted almost half her life on. “I just haven’t met anybody worth considering.”

  That lie came out smoothly enough. She had no intention of meeting anyone ever. She would not fuck up her life again, just for the sake of someone to binge television and eat expensive cheese with. Even if a second salary would make it easier to afford said expensive cheese.

  “Well, you need to meet someone before the wedding,” Sasha said. “I simply won’t have you sitting alone while Chris swans about with his ‘flavor of the week.’”

  “There are flavors?” Bridget had purposely not thought about Chris dating anyone else. It was the only thing keeping bees from flying out of her mouth every time she ran into him. She didn’t want him back, but she hated the idea of him being happy. She was petty, and she accepted that about herself. But now that the topic had been introduced, she couldn’t stuff the bees back down her throat.

  Hannah’s mouth flattened out and she shot Sasha a look. “None of them have lasted more than a few weeks.”

  Bridget barely contained her sneer. She’d gotten to know both Hannah and Sasha pretty well in the last couple of years, but not well enough to tell them that her relationship with Chris had put her off relationships—permanently. Before Jack and Hannah had met and fallen in love, Hannah had been in no-man’s-land herself. Bridget had a feeling that if her future sister-in-law got a whiff of her extreme reticence about romance, she would descend upon her with the enthusiasm of the newly converted. “It’s fine. We broke up . . . for a lot of reasons. I didn’t exactly expect him to remain celibate.”

  She even leaned back in her chair to emphasize how cool she was with all of this. Totally cool with her ex-boyfriend banging anyone and everyone.

  “But I agree with Sasha.” Hannah was declarative. “We have to find you a date.”

  “I don’t want a date,” Bridget said.

  Apparently, they were going to ignore her. “Most of the decent guys I know are gay,” Sasha said.

  “Other than Jack, I know married guys and professional athletes.”

  “I would take a professional athlete.” Chris had always hated that he’d never been good enough at sports to make varsity in anything. Taking a professional athlete to a wedding would leave her ex feeling woefully insecure. It would make for a much more enjoyable evening on her part.

  “I don’t think you’re ready for a professional athlete,” Sasha said. “Chris is your first and only, which means you’ve never dealt with a guy who had a tight end, much less an actual tight end. Dating is actually insane. It’s a whole lot of work with a regular guy—like you have to decide if you want to have sex with him the first few minutes of a date, because if he senses that you aren’t down to go to Bonetown, then he won’t call you again. But if you do have sex with him, you have
to be very careful not to spook him into thinking that you want to marry him that day.” Sasha hadn’t paused to take a breath.

  Hannah raised her glass. “And that’s just with a regular guy.”

  “And I’m supposed to want to meet one of these regular guys?” Bridget doubted their utility even more after this conversation.

  All three of them looked at one another for a beat before bursting out laughing so hard they all lost their breath.

  Bridget supposed Sasha was right. Every time she’d been approached by a dude since her breakup, she’d been frozen in place. A deer in headlights. Luckily, she knew how to excuse herself quickly enough that she hadn’t been run down yet.

  “Do you know anyone at work?” Bridget groaned inwardly at Hannah’s suggestion. Even if her work wasn’t the unsexiest thing ever, none of the guys at the office were desirable. For one thing, she found only two of them attractive—and only in the right light, if she squinted. But the killing blow was that they all knew Chris. In fact, she was pretty sure Jake was in Chris’s weekend five-on-five league.

  “I can’t date anyone at work.” It would be unprofessional. She had a reputation as a hard-ass bitch to maintain. Dating someone at work would compromise that. In the past couple of years with so many changes—getting dumped, her brother finding the perfect girl, and her parents getting back together after more than a decade apart—her work had been the only constant. “But I have a few months. I’ll come up with something.”

  She paused for a moment, thinking before she revealed the next thing. “I don’t think I want to date anymore.”

  “Like, at all?” Sasha looked concerned.

  Hannah just nodded. “That’s how I felt before I met Jack.”

  Oh shit. Hannah was now going to try to set her up with religious fervor. Honestly, Bridget would be more likely to change her mind if Hannah was trying to get her to repent and accept Jesus. At least Bridget would be good at religion. She’d had plenty of practice believing in that which could not be seen when she was with Chris. During the course of their relationship, she’d believed that time together would outweigh her growing dread at spending the rest of her life with someone who’d ceased to inspire anything in her other than mild disgust. She’d also believed that he knew her.