"Get the fuck out of here!" Fiona screamed, sitting up and lurching to her feet. "Get the fuck out!"
Mike and Mary Ellen had come in through the front door. Fiona came at them in staggering steps, screaming at them, and they dodged back. She slammed the door and locked it, screaming instructions at them to stay out.
"Shit, can we just talk to you?" Mike answered back through the door.
"No," she said. "We don't need to talk."
"What the fuck is wrong with her?" Mary Ellen asked him as they walked away. She couldn't hear if he answered. Fiona stood against the door, and then went into the kitchen. She got a bottle of water and drank it down. She still felt drunk as hell. She wanted to eat, but was afraid of throwing up. She decided the best thing to do was grab a cooking pot in case she needed to puke and went back to bed.
That night, she called her manager, Ken. She was clear-headed, and asked him dozens of questions about her obligations, and how long it might take to put her music career on indefinite hold. He cautioned her strongly about making choices she might later regret, and then laid out a framework for her to reduce what she was doing. She did owe the record company one more album, and she would need to put in at least some effort marketing it. There were a lot of things that could be eliminated. But the income would disappear too.
She made herself dinner and sat up late reading. She liked reading. It was something she could do without drinking. She could just lose herself in these other lives.
* *
The next morning, Mike knocked on the door of Fiona's cottage. She was up and dressed. She'd planned on leaving that afternoon, although she hadn't started getting ready yet. The cottage was still a mess with her stuff.
Fiona opened the door. Mike was by himself, and she let him step inside. She took at seat at the little kitchen table, and he sat down as well. "There's coffee made," she said.
"No thanks," he said. "I've just had one."
"Where's Mary Ellen?" Fiona asked.
"At the cottage."
Fiona lit a cigarette. "You told me you were divorced."
Mike nodded. "We're separated, and we've begun divorce proceedings. She was the one, who suggested the divorce, but now she's got cold feet and it's all dragging out. We've been living apart for months."
"Why did she show up yesterday? Shit, she could have walked in on us. Wouldn't that have been a pretty scene? What did you tell her about me, anyway? You didn't seem too eager to say anything when I stopped by."
"I'm sorry about that. All of this has really thrown me off balance, including all that's happened with me and you. You really just came out of nowhere."
"I didn't come out of nowhere. I came out of somewhere, and I'm a fucking human being with feelings. And I just fucked some dude who lied about being married. I'm not obsessed with marriage or anything. I don't really care about it. As far as I can tell, people pull marriages on and off like bad fashion, so I'm not all hung up on that, but I do care about being lied to by unavailable men. It makes me not want to trust men, and I have enough issues as it is."
"Well, I'm sorry about that. And I'm sorry all this happened. I've been living like I'm single for the last several months. As far as I'm concerned, my marriage is over and she is my ex-wife. But as you can see, we've still just some untangling to do. I didn't expect her to drive two hours to get here first thing in the morning without calling first to let me know she was coming."
"Does she know we hooked up?"
"She knows, but she won't admit it. She'll ask me about it months from now."
Fiona snorted. "It sounds like you've been in this situation before."
He shrugged. "I just know her. And I need to get out of this thing. It just doesn't work. She's slowly making me hate myself."
"I can sympathize."
Mike sighed. On the counter was a pen and a small pad of grocery list paper. He wrote something on the pad. "Look, I understand how you feel. But I want you to know that I think you're really awesome, and if you can survive what you're going through right now, and I survive mine, maybe we can catch up some time. Exchange survival stories."
Fiona wiped away a tear. "I can't promise I'll want that."
He nodded. "I talked to Steve about painting the place. He doesn't mind if I wait until you're all done here, so I won't come around bothering you anymore. If you want to talk to me, just come and knock. Or email me. That's my email address."
She fluttered a little goodbye wave as he backed out the front door. She sat, trying to keep herself from crying, although she wasn't sure why. Was she really sad about this? She couldn't even decide if he was a cool guy or not. He was either a guy who cheated on his wife, or a guy who was whipped by the woman who was divorcing him. It was cooler when he was just the down on his luck painter who wasn't going to let anything stand in the way of his dreams.
Fiona got up and peeled the note paper off the pad. She looked at Mike's email address and considered it, then used her cigarette lighter to set the little paper on fire. She held it and turned it while the flames consumed his details, and then she dropped the rest into the sink, where it burned to gray ash. "I think," she said out loud, "I am emotionally exhausted."
The cottage was a mess. She packed up her stuff, pulled the deck chairs back inside, and cleaned up the living room. She washed the dishes and put them away; cleaned out the food she'd hadn't eaten, and packed up all the garbage. Then she cleaned her stuff out of the bathroom, unplugged the fridge and propped the door open, and got ready to go.
Everything was back the way it was before she arrived. Well, the cottage was the same, anyway. She felt completely different. She'd decided to abandon the only life she'd known, fell in love a little bit, and had her heart a little bit broken. She stood in front of the cottage and lit a cigarette.
A smile played across her lips when she realized that if what happened here had happened back in the city, it wouldn't have bothered her nearly as much. If he had been some goon who tried to hook up with the pop star, it would have been an easy bet that he was actually married. So why had she lowered her guard out here? Maybe she wasn't as tough and jaded as she thought.
But it was nice to feel some actual emotions about another human, even if it ended with some disappointment. Maybe she should move out of the city. Open herself up a little.
She finished loading the car, although she decided to leave the rest of the vodka. She tucked the bottles into the cupboard under the sink and left a thank you note on the kitchen table with instructions to check the cupboard for a surprise.
Fiona got into the Lexus and started it up. It was time to go back to the city and tear down her entire life. Maybe, she thought, after everything is cleaned up and she's found herself a nice little place, she should get a guitar. Yeah, it's time to learn guitar, she figured. And maybe she should learn to paint, too. For fun.
She backed the car out of the driveway, and then paused. She had a weird feeling in her gut, like she couldn't walk away like this. She tried to think of what kind of song a moment like this would become: an auto-tuned piece of shiny pop shit, singing about walking away from the cheating man, or a quiet, emotionally raw ballad, wondering about the feelings left behind.
Putting the car into reverse, Fiona rolled the car back up the road to Mike's cottage. Both cars were still parked in front. Fiona stopped the Lexus and got out, then banged on Mike's front door.
Mary Ellen answered. She looked uncertain of herself when she saw Fiona.
"Hi," Fiona said. "I'd like to talk to Mike."
Mike appeared in the doorway. Ignoring Mary Ellen, Fiona stepped inside and wrapped her arms around his neck, catching him in a tight hug.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear. "I didn't keep your info, but if someday you're free, really free, come and find me." She kissed him on the cheek and released him. Mary Ellen was staring at them with an open mouth, unable to speak. Fiona barely spared her a glance as she walked out, closing the door behind her.
&n
bsp; She could hear their voices through the thin door as she got back into her rental car. They had a rough day ahead of them. Fiona smiled and started the drive back to the city. She had work to do.
*****
Melissa Morgan’s other books:
“Queen of Wolves” – Book 1
“Lust of a She Cat” – Book 2
“Wolf Games” – Book 3
“Forbidden Mate” – Book 4
“Wolf Blood” – Book 5
“The Duchess and the Hunt”
“Aphrodisiac”
Website: www.melissamorganbooks.com
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This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
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All That She Desires: The Stranger Page 6