Page 23 of Pity Parade

“Who is this?” she demands hotly.

“This is your partner, Heath.” I sound calmer than I feel.

“Heath Fox likes things big,” she shouts. “He’s a big thinker, and a big doer. That’s why he’s on top of the real estate game. That’s why he’s my partner.”

“If we lose half our funding, we can’t do it,” I tell her. “If you want to spend your entire summer finding more investors and more contracts, go for it. But I don’t care, so I don’t consider this an emergency.”

She inhales sharply. “You’ve only been gone for a day. You can’t tell me you’ve already lost your drive. I don’t believe it.”

“Shel,” I tell her. “I don’t know how else to make you understand that I’m taking the summer off. I don’t care if we lose this whole project.”

“But work is all you’ve ever cared about.”

Her words hit me hard. Work isn’t all I’ve ever cared about. Although, that has been the case since she’s known me. “There’s more to life for both of us, Shelby. You also have a husband and children. Maybe you should spend some time reacquainting yourself with them this summer.” God knows, if Jess and our son were still alive, I’d want to be with them all the time.

Instead of responding, Shelby growls in my ear before hanging up. I think about our conversation as I stretch out on the sofa. Part of the reason I’ve needed this break so badly is because I’ve been feeling disconnected with life lately. Even though I don’t see myself getting married again, I know there must be something more than just work in my future. I need a break from all the noise so I can figure out what that is.

Too bad the only thing I can seem to think about is Trina Rockwell.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TRINA

Spending time with Heath Fox is as irritating as having a bad rash that won’t go away. He’s like an itch that starts out slowly and then grows into something so all-encompassing I want to rip my skin off. And while the analogy might be a little dramatic, I really do find him that annoying.

Once I get back to my little apartment above the yarn store, I pull the mint chip ice cream out of the freezer and take it into the living room. In record time I eat more than half of the container.

Looking for a diversion, I pick up the remote and turn on the television. Surprise, surprise, there’s a new dating show coming this fall. This one is called Marry Me in a Day.

The premise: there’s one guy and ten women, and the women only have twenty-four hours to convince the man to marry them.

Why would women prostrate themselves for a man they don’t even know? This is made worse by the fact that they’re competing for the honor. What if he’s a dud? What if he’s not worthy of them? I know I sound like a hater, but it’s probably both.

I detest the direction reality shows are going. Not only is there nothing real about set-ups like this, but people become obsessed with the game. Those poor women will probably fight to the death to get some loser to pick them, and then what? No one cares because the producers have moved on to exploit the next group. It makes me sick.

After clicking off the TV, I force myself to put the lid back on the ice cream. Then I try to imagine what I’d be doing if I was back in Chicago. I’d probably go out to the movies or something. The difference is that Elk Lake is full of families, and the thought of being out and about by myself is kind of depressing. I’d feel like someone’s maiden aunt or paid companion on her one afternoon off.

What’s wrong with me? I’m not a recluse, and I’m sure as heck not afraid to be alone. Heck, I’ve been alone most of my adult life. If there’s one thing I do extremely well, it’s fending for myself.

Although, it’s been years since I was alone and unemployed. The only thing that’s been on my mind lately is trying to figure out how to get out of this contract with Tom. Even so, I really do need to figure out what comes next. I probably have enough savings to live for a couple of years, but once that money is gone, it’s gone. The sooner I put something into motion, the better. I briefly consider going back to matchmaking, but my romantic side is stymied. I realize that I need some more distance from it before I can consider returning with an open mind.

Picking up a notebook off the coffee table, I open it up with the intention of writing down new program ideas to pitch to networks. Unfortunately, I come up blank. The nice shows I want to be a part of have been replaced with garbage like Marry Me in a Day.

I got my bachelor’s degree in art history, and I briefly wonder if I can do something with that. But what? Open a gallery? Become a docent at a museum? Neither one of those things sounds even remotely appealing.

The more I try to envision my next endeavor, the more I find it difficult to breathe. My heart starts racing faster and faster and I suddenly feel lightheaded. I force myself to lie down and prop my feet up on the end of the sofa. At least that’s what I think I’m supposed to do to keep from fainting. The good news is if it doesn’t work, I’ll already be in position when the lights go out.

I’ve never felt desperate to have a man in my life. If anything, I’ve felt lucky I’ve been able to spend my time doing things I want to do, including having the career I’ve always desired. But in this moment, all I can think about is how very alone I feel.

My biggest fear is that I don’t have anything of value. I don’t have a job. I don’t have a significant other. Heck, I don’t even have a pet. All I have is a driving desire not to make a spectacle of myself by letting Tom produce a show about my social life.

I think about my new friends in Elk Lake. Paige, Missy, Faith, and Anna all have what I want. They have someone to share their journey with.

That dratted Heath Fox pops back in my mind. Why does he have to be spending the summer here? Isn’t Wisconsin too mundane for the likes of him? Shouldn’t he be in the south of France or summering on Lake Como with a parade of women looking for only one thing? Except he’s not at those places, he’s here.

Heath invades my thoughts until all I want to do is beat my head against a wall. I finally sit up and look around the apartment. Missy used to live here before she met Jamie. I wonder what she did in her free time. But even as I ask the question, I know the answer. All the women I’ve become friendly with in town have always had each other.

I have two good female friends in Chicago, both of whom are so busy we rarely have time to see each other. Felicia works as a show runner for Chicago Beat, and Marilyn owns a fancy hair salon in the North Side. Neither is married and both date a lot. They seem very content with their choices. As content as I used to be before I lost my job.

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