by Scott, Lisa
Sucking in a breath, she opened it and read the five short sentences typed out: “I wasn’t honest with you. You were perfect and it scared me. I still love you. I should have tried harder. I should have tried as hard as you did.”
Her heart pounded and she flipped the letter over. It wasn’t signed! Who’d sent it? Each of her exes had seemed happy with their lives and not at all disappointed they were no longer a couple.
She hopped off the couch and paced the apartment. Should she create a follow-up survey to find out who sent this? Or she could call them all again? She shook her head. It didn’t matter. None of them were right for her, except for Ian. And if it was him who’d written this letter, he was a jerk for sending it while he was married. She tucked the letter in the kitchen drawer where she stashed bills and appointment reminder cards she wanted to ignore.
***
The next day was Valentine’s Day, and Aubrey read the letter again and again whenever there was a lull in calls at work. After a torturous afternoon, signing for bouquets and balloons for her co-workers, she stormed home, crumpled the letter and threw it away. He probably thought he’d been nice sending that letter, but it only managed to reignite her feelings for him—and crush her heart once again.
She turned on the enormous Jacuzzi in her bathroom and got in, then unwrapped the giant chocolate heart Kyla had sent her. She fished out a coconut candy and wondered if she’d ever have the passion to work at a relationship again. Maybe the survey had been helpful—she’d certainly never try too hard again. She didn’t have the heart for it. The coconut candy slipped from her fingertips and disappeared under the bubbles. Bummer. Her favorite.
***
The next day was unseasonably sunny and warm for February, and since she had at least four thousand calories in chocolate to burn off, Aubrey decided to take a walk after work. She found herself heading toward JuJu’s and thinking of Ian, of course. It wouldn’t be so bad to have lost him to someone who really appreciated him, but his wife didn’t seem to love him like Aubrey would’ve loved him. His wife didn’t seem like she tried hard at all.
That’s probably how she got him.
Lost in her thoughts, Aubrey walked through the stream of people outside enjoying the day. She stopped when she got to JuJu’s and stared inside through the window. How many times had she and Ian come here? She’d always narrow her selection down to two choices, and Ian would order her second choice, just in case she didn’t like the one she’d chosen. They usually ended up splitting their meals and arguing over who’d take more than their fair share and whose was the best.
She sighed and looked down the sidewalk.
“Aubrey?”
She looked up and blinked. “Ian?” She would’ve thought it was a hallucination if not for the baby in front of him bundled up in a stroller. The little guy was cute, but he certainly didn’t have a guest role in her Ian fantasies.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“It’s a nice day. I’m done with work. I’m just taking a walk while it’s still light out. Is Joshua still sick?”
Ian was moving his mouth to say something, when Ian’s wife came out of JuJu’s. Aubrey heard the Wicked Witch of the West music playing in her head.
Monica took the stroller from Ian. “They can get us a table in fifteen minutes.” She looked over at Aubrey. “Oh, it’s you again.”
Aubrey tucked her hands in her pockets. “Yes, I was just out taking a walk and ran into Ian.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence,” Monica said. She shoved Ian. “And what did you tell her?”
“Nothing,” he said.
Monica narrowed her eyes at him. “You coward.”
Aubrey stepped forward. “Stop it! Why are you so mean to him? Don’t you know what a great guy you’ve got?”
Monica looked at Ian and laughed.
Aubrey clenched her teeth but she couldn’t hold back her words. “You don’t deserve him. Ian should have someone wonderful who cares about him. He’s smart and kind and funny and caring. And if you haven’t noticed, he’s hot as hell!”
Monica doubled over, laughing. “Oh, my god. I would stab myself to death with a plastic spork if I had someone like Ian. He never picks up after himself. He’s a lousy cook and clearly, he’s a chicken shit.”
Aubrey cocked her head. “What do you mean, if you had someone like Ian? He’s your husband.”
Monica burst out laughing again. “He’s my brother.” She turned to him. “Sorry, dude. Someone had to tell her.”
Ian’s face paled and Aubrey thought she might throw up. “You didn’t want me to know you were single? You were so desperate to make sure I wouldn’t be interested in you again you lied to me?” Her hands covered her mouth. “It wasn’t you who sent the letter.” She blinked back tears.
He just stared at her and Aubrey turned to run.
“Aubrey, wait!” Ian grabbed her arm. “That’s not it!”
She turned to him and glared, yanking her arm away. “Then why would you possibly lie to me about having a wife and child unless you didn’t want me to know you’re single?”
Ian scratched his head and looked up at the sky. “I didn’t want you to know I don’t have a job. And that I’m living at my sister’s place until I can get back on my feet. I’m embarrassed.”
Surprised, she sucked in a breath. “Are you serious?”
He hung his head. “It sucks, I know.”
She waved her hand in the air. “No, I mean are you serious that you thought I wouldn’t want you because your life isn’t perfect right now?”
“I don’t have much to offer,” he said.
She stepped closer to him. “I love—loved—you. It doesn’t matter what you do. I don’t know why you thought you had to get that promotion to prove something to me.”
“I was stupid. I thought I had to get my career rolling before I could focus on love. I needed to show you I could support us even without your money. But I put so much work into my career, and nothing into our relationship. Is it too late?”
“I’m going to puke,” Monica said behind them.
“Shut it unless you want to lose your live-in babysitter,” Ian said.
Monica pushed the baby stroller and stood in front of them. “Why don’t you two take our dinner reservation?” The sarcasm was gone from her voice. “Please. He’s been miserable since you stopped by. Take him off my hands for the love of God.”
“Could you possibly give me a second chance?” Ian asked.
Aubrey stopped smiling and took on her most serious tone. “That depends on how much of your dinner you share.” She looped her arm in his and headed inside the restaurant.
***
Three hours later, they’d left the restaurant and were back her place, sitting on the couch, chatting about the past and planning for the future. “I’ll help you with your resume. We’ll find another job for you,” Aubrey said. “You know we don’t have to worry about money. Not with my inheritance.”
“I need to work, Aubrey. I want to work.” Smiling, he put his arm around her. “And I’m sure you’ll help me figure something out. You have good ideas and you’re persistent.”
She looked down and knew she was blushing. “And I do have this big apartment if things get too crowded at your sister’s place. You could have your own room. But, it’s not like this is a new relationship. I say we pick up right where we left off.”
“No.”
She jerked away and balled up her fists. “See? There I go again, trying too hard to make it work.”
He pulled her back to him. “No, you’re perfect, Aubrey. I meant we’re not going to pick up where we left off, because I wasn’t giving enough to our relationship. We’re going to start off better than we were. I promise to try harder this time, Aubrey. I’m not going to lose you again. And living with you sounds great, if that’s what you want.”
She leaned in for a kiss then stopped and snapped her fingers. “We’ll set up a facebook page for yo
u—Ten Reasons to Hire Ian.”
Shaking his head, he laughed. “I like it. But you know what I like better right now? Ten Reasons To Shut Up and Kiss Me.”
“Oh.” And she leaned in for a beautiful kiss that was the perfect blend of past, present, and the promise of a perfect future.
After a few moments, she broke off the kiss. “Hang on a minute. Let’s pretend today is Valentine’s Day. I’ve got an unopened box of chocolates to share with you. Will you eat the maple nougats? I hate them.”
“I’ll even eat the jelly ones you don’t like.”
She leaned against his shoulder. “Now that’s working hard for our relationship.”
***
The next morning at work, Aubrey called Diana to cancel their appointment. “I’m back together with Ian and happier than ever,” Aubrey told her. “I really think he’s the one. I hate to say it, but I don’t need your help anymore. Of course, we can gradually cut back on my visits if that’s easier for you. I feel like we’re breaking up.”
“You don’t want to see me anymore?” Diana asked.
Aubrey nibbled her lip. “No, sorry.”
“Sorry? Thank god. Now I can quit,” Diana said.
“Hey, I was kidding about that. You need to keep helping people. You helped me so much.”
“No, I’m really going to quit. I signed a book deal on finding love. I’ve been transferring all my clients to other therapists. You’re my last one.”
“Seriously? Congratulations! What’s the book about?” Aubrey asked, while Debbie, the other receptionist, shooshed her.
“You helped inspire it: An Exit Survey for your Ex: Learning from your breakups.” I hope you’ll let me interview you for it.”
“Of course!”
That earned another shoosh from Debbie.
“Great. But now that your love life is sorted, I do think we should talk some more about your professional life. You could be doing so much more.”
Aubrey stared at the dish of Skittles on her desk, aware of Debbie’s continued glare. “You’re right.”
Diana said nothing for a few seconds. “I am? You’re not going to fight me on this and insist you’re happy?”
Aubrey realized she was shaking her head no. “This whole process has helped me realize I worked too damn hard on finding a guy, but not enough on myself. Maybe I was using my money as an excuse.”
“And the student becomes the master.” Diana laughed and said goodbye.
Still smiling, Aubrey looked up the stairs to the second floor where the HR office was. She asked Debbie to cover for her for a moment, hoping she could trust her with the bowl of Skittles. She suspected Debbie fished out the orange ones when she wasn’t looking. Aubrey straightened her skirt, took a deep breath, and climbed the stairs.
She knocked on Barb’s open door.
Barb looked up. Surprise, she’s frowning.
“Come in. Is everything all right? Do you need more personal time?” Barb asked.
Aubrey started to twist her fingers in front of her. But she stopped, took a deep breath and said, “No. I need to know if there are any openings in the marketing department.”
Barb smiled. “It’s about time. Sit down. Something perfect just opened up for someone who works as hard as you do.”
Mr. Wrong
By Lisa Scott
Diana Hart stared at her computer screen and tried not to panic. When she gave up her therapy practice so she could devote time to writing, she assumed the words would fly—but her mind and her computer screen were blank. Bad news, because she had a lot of writing to do. The publisher had signed her for a two-book deal after buying her first book proposal, The Ex Exit Survey—How to Learn From Your Breakups. Her former client, Aubrey, was thrilled to be the inspiration for that title. But now the second book proposal was due, and Diana was stumped for ideas. What would the publisher say if she didn’t come through? Even worse—what would her mother say?
Diana’s phone rang. Saved by the ring tone, she thought. “Hello?”
“Diana, it’s April twelfth, our deadline has come and gone. The publisher wants the proposal for your second book yesterday.” Her agent, Miriam, did not sound happy.
“I’m working on it right now,” Diana said. Which was partially true. She was trying to work on it. She had to work on it. The advance would carry her for the next year, and her mother was the star of her bridge club now that her daughter was going to be an author. There was no backing out.
“Good, what’ve you come up with?” Miriam asked.
“Well…”
Miriam said nothing for a moment. “Diana, be honest with me. If you don’t have any ideas let me help you brainstorm.”
Diana let out the breath she’d been holding. “I don’t have any ideas. Not any good ones. I’m already focusing on my clients’ stories in book one. It would seem like a rehash to do that in book two.”
“That’s easily solved. Focus on yourself. Your own love life. Part memoir, part advice guide. We could call it From The Hart.” Miriam sighed. “I’m a genius. I love it.”
Diana almost choked. “My love life?”
“Yes. Things you’ve learned along the way. How you’d advise your younger self on the mistakes you’ve made.”
The only mistakes she’d made were not dating enough men. She’d never had a one-night stand. She’d never gone on a blind date. Each one of her relationships had been exactly alike: Same type of guy—professional, conservative, and wealthy; same length— nine months to a year; same result—her walking away because things had become boring. She had no experience with heartache and none of the euphoria of new love. “Miriam, I’m not as experienced as you might think.”
“Well, that could work, too. You could get out there and write about your search for Mr. Right. I want your perspective on the whole thing as a therapist and a single woman. I’ll let the publisher know we’ve settled on an idea, you get me the detailed proposal in two weeks. Sound good?”
Diana froze. A memoir about her non-existent love life? “It’d be more like looking for Mr. Wrong.”
“Even better! A book on the pitfalls of dating and how to handle them. In fact, forget about finding Mr. Right. Get out there and have some dating disasters.”
“I’m sure I can manage that.”
“Great.” Miriam hung up.
Diana gripped the arms of her chair in the tiny office in her apartment and reminded herself to take deep breaths. She dropped her head back and groaned. How in the hell was she going to pull this off? Her love life had never been dramatic. Things always just fizzled out with the men she dated. Her mother had drummed into her head from an early age that Diana needed to support herself. Diana’s father had left when she was toddler and her brother was just a baby, leaving her mother to scramble for a job to keep the family afloat. So, while Diana longed for a family of her own, her career always came first—and it showed in her relationships. That wasn’t very interesting. How was she going to orchestrate dating disasters? She wasn’t a hot mess or a drama queen.
She twirled her pencil between her fingers. If dating the same professional, reliable men always led to the same result, then she had to start dating totally different men. Men who seemed entirely unsuitable for her.
She jumped up and looked around the room as if the perfectly bad guy was hiding behind the curtains in the bright, airy room. How was she supposed to find Mr. Wrong? It’s not like she’d gone out trolling for her past boyfriends. She’d met all of them at charity events or friends’ parties. She couldn’t start there if she wanted to meet someone different. Diana paced the office, her heels clunking on the hardwood floor.
Her brother had a string of ex-girlfriends. He was great at being Mr. Wrong. She called him up and made plans to meet him for drinks that night. And maybe she’d find a bad boy at the bar once she was done interrogating her brother. Her clients met disappointing men at bars all the time. If she wanted to find Mr. Never-No-Way, that would be a great place to
start.
She dashed into her bedroom to choose the perfect outfit for picking up the wrong type of guy. But after trying on six different pantsuits, she realized she’d never attract any attention walking into a bar in a double-breasted blazer. A trip to the mall was needed before she went searching for bad boys. She didn’t even have any girlfriends she could trust with shopping for this adventure; they’d all automatically steer her toward Ann Taylor or Talbots. No, Diana would have to do this on her own.
Two malls and six stores later, she had a new wardrobe consisting of shorter skirts, higher heels, and skimpier tops. And absolutely no barrettes or headbands. “Leave your hair down, you look less uptight,” one of the sales girls had told her. “It’s like, super pretty for someone your age,” another teenager added. After downing a milkshake at the food court to get over that slam, she reminded herself that thirty-three really isn’t that old these days.
And Diana was going to out with lots and lots of perfectly wrong men to prove it.
***
Toby Carter nodded and smiled over dinner, as his girlfriend detailed the pros and cons of the apartment complex she was going to buy. “What do you think?”
He pushed aside his plate. “I think we’re going to have to kiss our cruise goodbye this summer. You’ll be too busy with this latest project.”
Lorna shrugged without looking up from her phone. “So we move the trip back to the fall, or maybe next spring. I have to get this complex. My portfolio isn’t diversified enough. If the market ever crashes again—no, when it crashes again—this rental income will be a good cushion.”
Toby snaked his arm around her shoulder and lowered his voice. “The only kind of cushions I want to talk about are the ones on my couch where we should go right now and do it.”
She removed his hand from her shoulder. “Focus on the rental.”
He sighed and sat back in his seat. “Fine. Speaking of real estate, I was thinking about buying a beach house in Miami. What do you say we do a little house hunting down there this weekend?”
She sighed, like he was a foolish boy she had to correct yet again. “Toby, I’m going to have to spend the weekend checking out other apartment buildings to be sure I’m getting the right one.”