Stuck with You: A ONE WEEK Novella

by Carmen, Roya

  “I just remembered,” I say. “Jacob and I have a meeting with our financial advisor today. I completely forgot about it.”

  A little white lie.

  “I should get going,” I tell them. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No worries,” Maeve says.

  “It… it was nice to see you, Corrie,” Gabbie offers with sad eyes. I know she suspects that I might be lying.

  Likewise, Kayla gives me a long hug goodbye — nothing gets past her. “Let’s get together soon… just you and me.”

  “Sure… I’d like that.”

  I gather my things and wave goodbye as I head toward the door. I hate doing this to Maeve, but I’m sure she has no desire to see me cry because she gets to have a baby and I don’t. Just as expected, as soon as I step out of the café, I fall into sobs.

  * * *

  Today’s rants:

  Where the hell was I when God was handing out juicy fertile wombs? Sure, I have great legs, but I’d give them away in a minute for a baby.

  Why must we age? Every single second of every single day, we are dying. Why can’t we start off as old bats, and slowly un-age, Benjamin Button style, until we are clueless babies, and eventually embryos, and microscopic zygotes.

  What is the point of life? Seriously! What is it?! I’d love to know.

  Abby and Baxter are staring at me again. They’re concerned, very concerned. I’ve been curled up on the sofa, crying for a day. I just can’t get over it. I feel hopeless… pointless.

  “What is the point, guys?! I don’t have a job, I don’t have a family. All I have is a fabulous shoe collection, and you two.”

  Abby cocks her head, and Baxter shoots me a look, like I’ve offended him.

  “I mean… not that you’re not both insanely adorable and fabulous,” I attempt to backtrack. “But let’s face it, you’re not babies.”

  I sigh and stretch out on the sofa, wondering how I can possibly make myself feel better. I just need to take the focus off this. I need a change of scenery. Perhaps a trip away would do me good.

  But I hate traveling alone. I hate airports and all the hoops you need to jump through. Jacob was always the one in charge, wielding the boarding passes and the passports. I’d follow him like a little puppy, oblivious. To travel alone seems daunting.

  Just as I’m about to fall into another crying fit, an idea hits me. I suddenly remember my friends, Beatrice and James, and their lovely little beach cottage. Jacob and I have been there a few times, and it was so invigorating. Beatrice told me that we were welcome to it anytime if they weren’t using it. It’s early June and beautiful out, and their kids are still in school. The place is probably sitting empty.

  I hop off the sofa and go on a quest to find my phone.

  Part II

  The lake house.

  3

  The place is just as I remembered. Small, quaint, and very soothing. All the blinds are closed, and the first thing I do is pull them open and let the sun shine in. Abby and Baxter are yapping excitedly. Their tiny legs are busy as they run around and explore. Baxter seems fascinated by the old style wood stove — he’s never seen anything like it. Abby is busy barking at the wolf statue in the corner — she’s admittedly not the sharpest tool in the shed.

  There’s a flower arrangement on the table — Beatrice must have been here recently. The dining table is new — a gorgeous slab of wood, held up by a large steel frame. The swirls of color in the grain of the wood is pure art. I can’t wait to have dinner on this thing — dinner for one. I sigh and make a mental note to ask Beatrice where she got it since I’m in the market for a new table. Jacob walked away with ours — in his defense, it used to belong to his grandmother. As it stands, I’m still eating on a cheap plastic folding table we used to take out for extra guests when we had large dinner parties. Seriously, when did my life become so damn depressing?

  I stretch out on the sleek seventies-style futon sofa, and look out at the view. I can see the water in the distance and the scotch pines forming a canopy over the cottage, protecting it from the winds of the lake. I stretch out my legs for a moment before I settle in properly. I’ve got loads of food and stuff to unpack and put away.

  I have the week all planned out… two good books on my Kindle, a few romantic comedies on DVD, the painting supplies Gabbie lent me, and a half-done not-so-great watercolor. I’ve also brought my bubble bath and one nice outfit — I plan to finish off the week with a nice dinner at the Old Mill; the only nice restaurant in the small town nearby. This week is all about escaping… the world, my thoughts… my life.

  I’ve just about gotten everything settled, and the puppies are itching for a walk. That’s the thing about being a dog owner — they keep you active. No rest for the weary with these two. I’ve got my white capris on, a striped t-shirt, boat shoes, and a large rimmed sunhat on as we all set out for our walk. It’s a beautiful day — summer is here already. As I inhale the fresh air, I tell myself that everything will be okay.

  I spot Ming in her garden. She’s the next door neighbor, a sweet elderly woman originally from somewhere in Indonesia. She’s been in the States for a long time and has just a hint of an accent. She’s one of the few people I know who is as tiny as I am. I love standing next to her because she’s actually a few inches shorter than me — it makes me feel so tall.

  She shoots me a wave. A huge smile stretches across her face as she stands and heads right toward me.

  “Hello Connie…” she cheers. I want to correct her and tell her my name is Corrie, but I don’t bother. I’ll be Connie if that’ll make things easier.

  “Are those your doggies?” she asks, full of excitement. She doesn’t attempt to pet them — she seems to know better. Abby and Baxter are prickly that way — they don’t like to be touched by strangers.

  “Yep…

  “They are adorable.”

  I smile. “Yep… and they know it too.”

  “You have not been here for a long time,” she points out.

  I blow out a breath as I do the calculations in my head. “Yeah… about two years, I guess.”

  “Where is your handsome man… uh… Jacob?”

  I can’t help but smile as I remember how she used to always call Jacob handsome, and he’d always blush a little. I guess the woman has a thing for tall, dark bearded men.

  My heart sinks at the thought of him. “Um… Mr. handsome and I are broken up.”

  Her eyes widen and she brings a hand to her mouth. “Oh no. What happened?”

  Again, I smile because Ming is so clueless. She doesn’t seem to know that it’s rude to pry. I really don’t want to tell her that infertility has driven us apart, that I was tired of fighting, tired of letting him down. “Uh… we just grew apart… it happens.”

  She cocks a brow in confusion. “Grew apart?”

  “Wow, your garden looks fantastic, Ming,” I say in an attempt to change the subject. “You got new plants?” Ming is all about her garden and her cute little cottage, painted yellow and blue.

  “Yes!” she says, and proceeds to regale me with information about all her new plants; flowers, herbs and even peppers.

  She pulls out a small red pepper. “This pepper can kill you,” she says, her expression grave. “Carolina Reaper… hottest pepper in the world.” She picks one off, and hands it to me. It’s the cutest little thing. “A gift,” she says. “Be very, very careful… only a tiny bit… very, very, very spicy. Wash your hands after touching insides.”

  “Oh… okay,” I say. I really don’t know what I can do with a tiny lethal pepper, but I stick it in my leather satchel with the doggie bags and treats.

  Just as I’m about to say goodbye, I spot a tall man in the distance, walking towards us. As he nears, I see him more clearly. He’s a specimen; rough around the edges, a messy mop of dirty blond hair falls to his very beautiful shoulders. He’s wearing a ratty t-shirt and cargo shorts, a tool belt hangs off his hips. A tool belt! The man is a bored housewife’s we
t dream.

  Am I a bored housewife? I ponder the question for a second as he approaches.

  “Hello, handsome,” Ming calls out. I guess Jacob’s been replaced.

  He flashes us a perfect gleaming smile, the white of his teeth striking against his tanned skin. His blue eyes sparkle as he turns his gaze to me. Now that he’s closer, I can see that he’s young. Much too young for me.

  “Hello, Mrs. Lin,” he says to Ming. “How are you?”

  “I’m very well, thank you.” She turns to me. “This is Connie.”

  I offer my hand. “Actually, it’s Corrie,” I tell him. “Nice to meet you.”

  He smiles. “I’m Alex.”

  “Alex is new here. He builds things… beautiful tables and benches,” Ming says.

  I nod as my gaze assesses him unapologetically, from top to bottom. Damn, if only I were a few years younger. I figure the boy is already taken — a perky little young thing who loves surfing, Instagram and Brazilian waxes.

  “Your dogs are adorable,” he says. “I’ve been looking to get a dog. Maybe you could give me some tips.”

  “You like Pomeranians?” I ask. “They can be a handful.”

  He shakes his head. “I was thinking more of a larger dog… a lab or a retriever.”

  “Well, can’t help you there,” I say. But if you’d like a back rub, I’m your gal.

  “Alex is very talented,” Ming tells me. “He makes beautiful things. He made Beatrice’s table.”

  I’m pleasantly surprised and don’t bother to hide it. “Really?! Wow! I love that table… it’s gorgeous. You are very talented.”

  His smile is bashful. “It’s no big deal. The wood is beautiful… it’s easy to work with. Once I get my hands on it, it all falls together.”

  Suddenly, I want his hands on me. I don’t care how young he is.

  “I’ve actually been in the market for a table,” I tell him, which is probably coming off as a total come-on. He probably thinks I’m a hot-and-bothered cougar. Well, I sorta am, but that’s beside the point. I really do need a table.

  His face lights up. “You should come to my studio and check out my stuff. I live just a few cottages down that way.” He shoots his long arm out, pointing toward his place, and I glance at his perfect jawline, darkened with a two day beard. He truly is a God. “It’s the royal blue cottage.”

  I’m surprised. That’s a big place, probably worth quite a lot of money. I wonder if his parents own it.

  “Yes, definitely,” I say, hoping his parents aren’t there, if they do own the place.

  Truly, I’m shameless.

  “Come anytime,” he says, all smiles. “I’m always around.”

  Don’t you have a real job? I want to ask. So many questions. “Will do.”

  He stares off into the distance, and Ming is just standing there, mouth agape staring up at him — probably having the same fantasies I’m having.

  “Well, I should get going,” he finally says after a long beat. “Just getting my afternoon sun.”

  Ming lets out an audible sigh, and I stifle a laugh. We both stand, staring shamelessly at his backside as he walks away.

  “Well…” I say. “I should probably get going too. The puppies are restless.” I’m not just making an excuse to get away — Abby and Baxter never like to stand in the same spot for too long.

  She smiles. “It was nice to see you, Connie.”

  “You too. Keep smiling, Ming.”

  I set out in the opposite direction Alex took. I turn and look out for him in the distance. He’s just a speck now. A beautiful, sexy speck.

  * * *

  Abby and Baxter are standing side by side, just staring at me. I don’t understand the fascination they have with baths. It’s like they’re trying to figure out why I’d willingly lay in a body of water for ages, a glass of wine by my side. They hate bath time — thank God, the groomer takes care of that.

  So far so good… went for a nice walk, met a beautiful man, had a lovely bolognese sauce pasta for dinner and now enjoying a bubble bath.

  Life could definitely be worse.

  I’m drifting away but I’m startled awake by incessant barking. Since my ears are submerged in the water, they’re not as loud as usual, but noisy enough to wake me from my almost slumber. I shoot up, splashing all over in the process. Abby is agitated, yapping her tiny head off. Baxter is out of the bathroom. I hear him barking in the distance. What the hell is going on?

  My heart shifts into overdrive as I carefully step out of the tub and wrap a plush towel around myself. Something’s wrong, but I don’t know what it is yet… probably just someone at the door. I wonder if it’s that gorgeous boy. What was his name again? Oh yes, Alex. Would he even know where I’m staying? Maybe Ming told him. I’m getting very excited as I step out of the washroom.

  My stomach does a total nose dive when I see him, making himself at home. Baxter is barking furiously at him. Jacob doesn’t seem bothered in the least. When he turns and glances at me, his jaw drops. “Corrie,” he says.

  It takes only a fraction of a second to take him in — worn jeans and a black tee, a large duffel bag, his guitar, a box of food and a cooler. “What the hell, Jacob?!”

  “What?” he says. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, confused.

  “Hanging out,” he says innocently. “James and Beatrice lent me the place.”

  “Oh… really?” I have no more words. I’m livid. Not so much at Jacob, but at Beatrice because I know this was her doing. She’s such a meddler — this is exactly the kind of thing she’d do, trying to play matchmaker and get us back together. She’s always going on about how it’s such a shame, how we are one of the best couples she knows. I’m going to kill her.

  All I wanted was a quiet peaceful week. That’s all shot now.

  “Well,” I deadpan. “This is Beatrice’s doing. This is a another little scheme of hers. She double booked us on purpose. She’s probably just trying to get us back together.”

  Jacob cocks a brow. “Hmm… interesting.”

  “What?”

  “Well,” he says. “Beatrice called me up, just to talk, and next thing you know, I’m taking the week off and coming here.”

  “I’m going to kill her.”

  He laughs.

  I turn on my heel. “I’m going to call her right now and give her a piece of my mind.”

  “No,” he calls out. “Don’t do that… they’re in Colorado right now anyway.”

  “You need to leave,” I tell him.

  “Uh… I don’t think so,” he argues.

  “I was here first,” I point out.

  “So?”

  The puppies have stopped barking now. They’re curiously watching us argue.

  “Get out!” I scream.

  He laughs and throws his box of food on the counter. “Sorry… I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Well, I better just go now,” I say, feeling a little sick to my stomach. I don’t want to go. “You can just have the place if you’re going to be an asshole about it.”

  He turns to me. “No, stay,” he says, his dark eyes a mix of longing and sorrow.

  I smile. This is a bad idea. I can see from the expression in his eyes that he’s already picturing us naked in bed. “Um… no.”

  “C’mon, Corrie. There’s three bedrooms. We can co-exist for a few days.”

  “Can we?” I ask, doubtful. If he thinks he’s going to get some action, he’s dead wrong.

  His gaze darts about the space. “Think about it, Corrie. I can help out. I can cook for you.”

  Well, that does sound kind of nice. I hate cooking. That pasta was good but I almost had a complete meltdown making it.

  “And do you even know how to work that thing?” he asks, pointing to the old wood stove.

  I shake my head and stare down at the pine floor.

  “The night is already getting cooler,” he points out. “I could make a n
ice fire.”

  The man makes an excellent point. I do like the idea of having him around at night. Abby and Baxter are fierce and yappy but they’re no guard dogs.

  “Well…” I say, still not sure.

  His beautiful face lights up and it tugs at me. Damn him… always pulling me back in. It’s been fifty-one days since I last had sex with him, and I’m determined to keep it going. “Okay, we can both stay,” I finally concede, “but we need a few rules.”

  He nods obediently. “Sure.”

  I bite my lip. “Number one… absolutely no sex.”

  “Sure, Corrie.” His smile is impish, and I know he’s already scheming to get me into bed.

  “I’m serious.”

  He nods again. “Yes, I know.”

  “Number two… you can’t be mean to Abby and Baxter.”

  His jaw drops. “When am I ever mean to Abby and Baxter?”

  “You make fun of them all the time,” I tell him. “You think they don’t understand you, but they do. They’re very smart dogs.”

  He stifles a laugh and I already want to throttle him.

  “Number three,” I go on. “Do not touch my food.”

  He takes a seat at the table and stretches out his long legs. “I’m sure I’ll manage to live without your kale salad and quinoa and frozen Lean Cuisine meals.”

  “Number four… I get bathroom priority,” I add.

  “This table is gorgeous,” he says. “It wasn’t here before, was it?”

  Great… now he’s not even listening to me.

  I ponder my list of rules for a minute. I can’t think of anything else, but four rules doesn’t seem quite right. I need five to round everything out. “And finally, rule five… you are not allowed to try to seduce me,” I tell him. “No back rubs, no getting me drunk, no touching my sweet spots… no watching The Notebook, and definitely no playing on that guitar,” I add as I glance at his guitar case.

  He laughs out loud. Damn, I still love his hearty laugh.