Losing Mr. Right

by Natalie Charles

  “B twenty-three,” I said into the microphone, and paused when I heard an excited murmur in the back corner of the hall. “What’s that, does someone have bingo already? Gladys, is that you?”

  A sweet old lady with thinning white hair called out, “Almost! Keep going!”

  There was a rustle of conversation at that comment. “Too much excitement for me.” I smiled and set the ball aside on a white holder. “All right, time for another one! And don’t forget, Mrs. Pinski brought her famous raspberry squares. Get ’em while you can.”

  I turned the handle to the metal cage, shuffling the balls around. Another white ball rolled out. “I six.”

  There was a disappointed “Oh!” in the hall, followed by laughter. “Drama in the bingo hall,” I said. “I bet we’ll have one soo—”

  “Bingo!” A woman in a hibiscus-print muumuu jumped to her feet, waving her card and marker. “Bingo!”

  There was a smattering of conversation, the collective sound of disappointment. “All right, everyone. Hold on. I’ve got to check the numbers.”

  The lady in the muumuu made her way to the front and handed over her card, her cheeks bright pink. “I’ve never won anything in my life!” She giggled.

  Looking at her, I thought she was probably telling the truth. Otherwise, there was no good reason to get so excited about winning church bingo. The prize for that round was a poker chip set. “Let’s see now.” I ran a finger across the bingo card and checked it next to the balls I’d pulled. “B fourteen. I six. N twelve. G two. And O eight. Yep, you’re our winner!”

  The woman clapped her hands and jumped around, and she looked positively tickled with her plastic poker chips. “Thank you! Thank you!” She kept saying it over and over, until I grew uncomfortable.

  “You’re welcome. That’s fine. Now here’s your card. We’ll play again.” I waited until the woman had sat down. “Everyone wipe off your cards. We’ve got a few games left… .” I paused when I looked up and saw someone in the back of the hall, waving her arms at me. I clapped my hands over my mouth as her face came into focus. It was Sorelle, my long-lost roommate. “Uh, actually, let’s take five minutes. Bathroom break and raspberry squares. Coffee’s hot. Be back soon.”

  Sorelle! I couldn’t believe it! She looked beautiful in one of her flowery sundresses and a light denim jacket, her light blond hair tied into two long braids. “Hey, gorgeous!” she squealed as I approached. “So good to see you!”

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” I wrapped her in a big hug. She smelled like baby powder. “I missed you.”

  Sorelle is one of my college friends and we’ve been rooming together for a couple of years now. You get to know a lot about a person when you live with them. In my case, I was lucky to find out that Sorelle is sweet, funny, and a little bit weird. We’re on the same level of messiness and we both enjoy similar foods, like cereal out of the box. It worked out.

  I stepped back to look at her. “How in the world did you find me here?”

  “I went to the cottage. You texted the address to me, remember?” Her freckled cheeks were pink from a sunburn.

  “So you went to the cottage …” There had to be another part of the story. Of course there was.

  “The lady there told me. The one with the brown and white hair? The innkeeper, I think.”

  My stomach sank. “Vaughan.”

  Sorelle snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “That’s it. She’s fabulous.”

  “Yes,” I said, numb. Fabulous, and also keeping tabs on me.

  Ever since the sting, things with me and Vaughan had been tense. She was admittedly better at pretending that nothing was wrong than I was. When we passed each other, Vaughan would smile icily and I would feel my insides boil with rage, and I’m certain that my anger was apparent on my face. This was not a sustainable situation.

  Consider: One evening, I’d mustered all of my self-control, tucked my rage into a little corner, and approached Vaughan for a sit-down. We chose the kitchen of the inn, which is cozy, elegant, and surprisingly modern, with granite countertops and high-end stainless steel appliances. Vaughan gestured to the stools at the counter. “Have a seat, Mindy.” When I didn’t, Vaughan shrugged her bony shoulders and said, “Suit yourself.”

  At that time, I’d returned the three hundred dollars she’d given me when I moved in. I even slid it across the counter to her in an envelope, just like in the movies. “I can’t accept this money, for obvious reasons.”

  Vaughan gave me a wry smile but didn’t touch the money. “You’re still harping on that. It’s unfortunate. All that anger.”

  “Yes, I’m angry.” I banged my fist on the counter. It hurt.

  Vaughan wandered over to the stove. “Can I get you a cup of tea?” She turned on the burner and set the teakettle on it.

  “No.”

  She pulled two teacups from a cabinet. “I have some chamomile and it’s simply delicious. Chamomile is so soothing, isn’t it?”

  Vaughan smiled, and I wavered. She was charming, that was for sure. No. This is wrong. I lifted a copy of the rental lease from my handbag and set it on the counter. “I would like you to leave. Willingly.”

  “Sweetheart.” Vaughan rested one hand on the counter and the other on her hip. “I have a ten-year lease. If I left, I’d be responsible for paying rent until your grandmother found another tenant.”

  “I’d waive any penalties.”

  She smirked. “That’s generous of you, but you don’t have the power to waive penalties.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll tell my grandmother to waive them. We’ll hire a lawyer to draw up an agreement if we have to.”

  She laughed quietly to herself at that. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  We sat in silence until the teakettle screeched. Then Vaughan poured two cups and slid one in front of me. “Enjoy.”

  She took her own tea and headed toward the door. I scrambled to my feet. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “To bed. I have an early morning.” She smiled again, and it was unsettling. “You know the way out.” The envelope full of money was still on the counter when she’d left.

  Now I looked at Sorelle, who had been impressed by Vaughan. Poor, naive Sorelle. “Vaughan’s kind of an asshole,” I said as gently as I could. “It’s a long story.”

  Sorelle brightened. “Great! You can tell me about it later. I’m going to stay the night, if that’s okay.”

  I tamped down my disappointment at not sleeping with Brett that night. “Are you kidding? I’d love that. We have so much to catch up on.” I gestured to the snack table. “There are snacks and coffee. Want to play bingo for a little while?”

  She laughed and reached into her handbag. “As long as these fine people don’t mind losing.”

  • • •

  BRETT AND I had planned a post-bingo rendezvous. Imagine his surprise when he opened the door to the cottage and saw Sorelle standing behind me, talking to the bookcase. “Hello,” he said, and his broad shoulders sank.

  He was so hot, even when he was disappointed. “Brett, this is my roommate, Sorelle. She moved out of our old place for a little while, and now she’s staying here with me. Isn’t that great?”

  “Sure is.” He pushed a smile onto his face.

  Sorelle was in the sitting area trying to coax Beau down from his perch on top of the bookcase. “Come on, Beau! Mommy missed you.” She clicked her tongue.

  Brett and I exchanged glances. “Sorry,” I mouthed.

  He lifted his shoulders good-naturedly and kissed me on the forehead. “Too bad. I had plans for you,” he whispered.

  My stomach fluttered. I hooked a finger into the top of his jeans and pulled him closer. “Rain check, please.”

  Behind us, Sorelle was clutching a big, gray ball of growling Beau. “Shush, baby. I just want a little hug.”

  Beau did not. He went limp and made a run for it when Sorelle lost her grip. She shook her head, exasperated. “I think he’s mad at me f
or leaving. Has he been grumpy lately?”

  “He’s always grumpy,” I said.

  But actually, Beau had been a little better. I wasn’t checking under my bed and locking the door before sleeping. Sometimes he let me pet him, and he’d only peed in my laundry basket once out of all the nights Brett had slept over. “Let him warm up,” I said. “I’ll bet he sleeps in your bed tonight.”

  Sorelle was staying in the second bedroom. It was smaller than mine and had two twin beds instead of a queen, but she didn’t care. She’d been sleeping in her car or a tent for a few weeks. “I met this guy at the grocery store,” she explained as the three of us sat down to catch up. “A yoga instructor. He was looking for some help at a retreat up in Vermont.”

  Okay, there were so many red flags here. “So you went along with him? Elle, you didn’t know who he was! He could’ve hurt you!”

  But she gave me this knowing look. “He was a yoga instructor, trust me. He was wearing those weird yoga pants and buying soy milk. Straight out of central casting.” While we were talking, she started unbraiding and rebraiding her hair. “So I packed up my things and went up to Vermont. I got free yoga classes and some extra money for washing dishes in the mess hall and scrubbing toilets.”

  Sorelle doesn’t have jobs. She has gigs, and somehow she still manages to piece together enough money to survive. She does freelance work here and there, mostly in graphic design, and the rest? Who knows. She likes to go where life takes her. “They did these yoga sessions in a field. I wouldn’t recommend it,” she added. “The insects were nuts. But they wouldn’t spray because … nature.” She rolled her eyes. “They started handing out these little bottles of essential oils that we were supposed to spritz on ourselves before we went outside. I still got mosquito bites.”

  Brett was listening to all of this with great interest. We were sitting beside each other on the sofa while Sorelle sat on the stuffed chair, her legs flung over one side. “It sounds like it was quite an experience,” Brett said. “How many weeks were you there?”

  “Five. But then I met someone and now I have a new gig.” She grinned. “I’m an Internet goat.”

  I blinked at her. “And that is … what, exactly?”

  “I’ve sort of invented the position, but I have a few clients already.” She finished one braid and began work on the other. “You know how people troll on social media? They spew all their hateful garbage in the comments sections of news articles or on Twitter or whatever? Well, I met this executive at the retreat, right? His company sells organic frozen meals, and he was saying that the trolls are out of control, attacking the company after someone claims to have found a piece of glass in her grass-fed hamburger. That didn’t happen, by the way.” Sorelle pursed her lips and shook her head. “There was an investigation, and the woman totally planted the piece of glass.”

  I leaned against Brett’s chest, softening against his side. “So what’s your job?”

  “I’m the goat. You know, the one who kicks the trolls out from under the bridge? It’s my job to use social media to beat the trolls back into submission. I’m on retainer. But see, it can’t look like it’s coming from the companies being attacked, you know?”

  “Sounds like a good job,” Brett said. “It’s nice that you can work remotely.”

  “For sure.”

  I was trying to wrap my head around Sorelle moving from a yoga retreat in the mountains to arguing with people on social media. “Are you actually saying mean things to strangers?”

  “Oh no. It’s all about snark. So for example— Here, let me get my phone.” She jumped off the chair and rushed to the worn leather handbag she’d left on the floor. “Here’s one. This guy’s Twitter handle is @longschlong.” She paused to raise her eyebrows and tilt her head at me. I got it. “Longschlong tweets, Wife wants 2 order meal from Superfrozen Foods thats 6 dollers per box no thanks I like glass in my hands not burger lol. Typos all over the place. I wrote back, You like glass in your hands? Delete your account.” She looked up, pleased.

  I frowned. “Did that work? Did the troll go away?”

  “I’ll bet he retracted his previous tweet,” Brett said, stone-faced.

  Sorelle dropped her phone back into her bag. “We got into it a little bit, with him calling me an idiot and me pointing out that I was only asking a simple question based on his tweet. But the victory here is that my response was retweeted fifty-six times.” She dropped back into the chair. “He’ll think before he attacks Superfrozen Foods again.”

  “I don’t know, Elle. There are a lot of people in this world, and so many of them seem to be trolling.”

  “It can be exhausting,” she agreed solemnly. “It’s one at a time. But the pay is decent.” Sorelle paused. “Do you have nachos? I feel like eating nachos.”

  She offered to walk into the center of town to go to the general store, which I knew she would love. She could do the grocery shopping from now on. Once Brett and I were alone again, I crawled onto his lap, smoothing my fingers down the hard plane of his chest. “How was your day?” I purred into his ear, and nipped at his earlobe.

  His body jerked at the contact. “Better now.” He glided his hands up my skirt to squeeze my thighs. “I didn’t know your roommate was coming back. And living with you.”

  “She’s a free spirit.” I raked my fingers through his thick hair. “You have great hair, you know.”

  “Is she going to be staying here for the rest of the summer now?”

  “I don’t know. Why?” I pulled back to look at him. “Are you concerned with privacy? You have a place, don’t you?”

  We’d been sleeping together for weeks, but I’d never actually seen where Brett lived. I was okay with him coming over to the cottage. That was convenient for me, and I liked to keep an eye on the inn. But when I thought about it, it was a little strange that he’d never invited me over. “You don’t have a wife or anything, right?” It was kind of a joke.

  “No, of course not.”

  But he looked away and I knew that he was hiding something. “Brett. Look at me. Brett.” I pulled his face gently to face mine. “What’s going on? How come I’ve never seen where you live?”

  I felt a pang in my chest as soon as the question came out. Of course. Brett didn’t make much money, that was why. He might be ashamed of where he was living. “You know, it doesn’t matter,” I added hastily. “You can invite me over when you’re ready.”

  “I want to have you over.” He held my wrists in his hands and pulled me to his chest. I felt his warm breath on my skin. “It’s just that I’m renting a place, and the pool is empty and it’s … not very fancy.”

  I exhaled, relieved that he was finally opening up this part of himself. “I don’t care about fancy. Have you seen this cottage? It’s covered in wood paneling.”

  “Maybe tomorrow night?” He kissed my fingers softly. Then he drew one into his mouth. That ache between my legs started again.

  “I can’t wait that long.”

  He kept my fingertip in his mouth, holding it with one hand. The other hand dipped, and then his finger was inside of me. I groaned and shamelessly rode his hand. “How long do you think we have?” he whispered.

  I could barely think straight and he was asking me to calculate a trip to the general store? “Don’t stop,” I gasped.

  “Wasn’t planning to.”

  He moved his finger in and out of me, teasing my clit as he did so. Just as I was on the verge of climax, he stopped to unzip his pants. “Oh, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

  “It’s coming, honey.”

  He pulled a condom out of his pocket and I helped him get it on. Then he slid my underwear aside and pushed me down onto the length of his cock. I rode him quickly, practically bouncing on his lap until I finally came. He groaned only moments later, then fell back against the couch. “Damn.” He looked like he was stunned. “You have no idea how good that feels.”

  I kissed him on the lips. “I might have some idea.
”

  He was still inside of me. I tightened just to feel him. Brett released a soft gasp and closed his eyes. “You’re incredible.”

  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and leaned in to rest my cheek against his sweaty forehead. It’s funny, because I was thinking the same thing about him.

  CHAPTER 15

  BRETT

  “SOMETHING HAS TO change.”

  Mindy and I were walking to my house, heading down the sidewalk that ran along the beach. My stomach was unsettled. This could ruin everything. She didn’t know who I was beyond the people walker. I liked it that way. Uncomplicated. We ate meals at her place, cooked together. We went for walks on the beach and talked about what we wanted out of life. Yeah, it was clichéd, but I didn’t need anything exciting. I didn’t want it. Our relationship was simple and uncluttered because she didn’t know that I had hundreds of millions of dollars. This could ruin everything.

  Beside me, she kept talking about how we needed to come up with a way to get Vaughan moved out before the summer ended. “You know what I mean?” she asked.

  “Sure.”

  I had no idea. She continued talking and I tried to focus on her words, but instead my thoughts had turned to lying. I’d have to tell her lots of lies if this was going to work out. There was a break in the conversation and I took a breath before plunging in. “So I’m renting this place from a couple that lives in Florida. It’s their third home.”

  Mindy’s eyes went wide. “Really? You never mentioned this before.”

  “It’s not that interesting. They hired me to do basic maintenance and in exchange, I get to live in the guesthouse.”

  Weak, I thought. No way she’ll believe this. But Mindy nodded and said, “I can’t wait to see it.”

  By that time we had reached the driveway, which stretched through a densely forested area. The house was fully concealed from the road. A person could pass that driveway every day for years and never know what it led to. This was a selling point for me because it made the house the perfect place in which to disappear. Halfway down the drive was a metal gate. I entered the code into the keypad and the doors swung open. “Fancy,” Mindy said.