Page 4 of My Darling Mayhem

The homes sold themselves; I was just here to walk interested families through floor plans and lot choices. When they wanted to see a model home under construction, I’d drive over and walk them through the options. Then, of course, I’d take all the additional steps to help them secure the home.

It was good work. It didn’t pay an exorbitant amount, but I didn’t have to work two jobs; I could easily afford my bills while still shoving a few hundred bucks into savings every paycheck. Besides, I had a great boss who treated me like family and gaveme a massive break on rent. I knew my little house would rent for nearly twenty-five hundred a month, being this close to the city, but she only charged me fifteen hundred. It was still a lot for my income, but it was manageable, even with my son’s expenses, which no one was helping me with.

“Can we please see the Sterling floor plan again?” The woman wearing a warm gray cardigan put her hands together as she faced me. She had wavy black hair, a wedding ring with several bands added, and just a solitary diamond. Her husband wore a generic brand of jeans. While the home they wanted was close to seven hundred thousand dollars, I could tell they weren’t the type that dripped with extra money. So, even though I only had an hour before I needed to leave to make it to the store in time, I pulled up the floor plan on my laptop and slid it toward them.

The woman glanced at her husband, and he turned toward their realtor with an expectant expression. Brian Hastings, the man who constantly reminded me why it was better to stay single than ever tempt fate with online dating, stared back at me.

“Wren, I think the Mathews wanted to walk the Sterling again.”

The couple beamed, nodding their agreement.

The drive over to the model home wouldn’t be super far, but depending on how long they took, it might mess with my timeline. It was my fault for waiting this long to get Cruz’s school supplies, but things kept coming up. I’d been called in on more days off than I could even count. Whenever my boss, Denise, needed me, I’d drop everything and come in. Denise never cared if I had Cruz with me, so I never told her no.

I forced my face to remain open, with a smile they’d never know was fake. “Sure, let me grab my keys, and we can drive over. Brian, you know the location?”

He pulled out his phone, ignoring me while muttering a yes. It took me right back to the last date we’d been on when he’d done the same thing. I knew his job kept him tied to his phone, but he could have put it on silent and gotten to his clients later since it was after working hours.

I walked to where my purse was and texted Mrs. Garza, letting her know I’d be there closer to four instead of three to grab Cruz, and then locked the office. Once I was departing to lead everyone over to the model home, I tried to ignore how I was the only person who had a car that was over twenty years old. It was made worse when I started the car, and the familiar squeal of the belt echoed around the lot.

My face heated as I drove forward, leading the caravan toward the opposite end of town. The small town of Atlas often felt like its own little island, separated from the world. Historic red brick buildings stood like withered sentinels along the town's main strip. Colonial homes were scattered through the older parts of the city, and during the fall, the entire town felt like we were in our own little autumn-colored snow globe.

The new suburban neighborhood appeared after we passed three red lights and a right past the old library. I passed the two freshly built homes and parked along the curb, eyeing the new three-story house. It was nearly a twin to the one built next to mine but differed slightly because it had three stories instead of just two. I smiled, exiting the car and relishing the sunshine that cut into my eyes and the warm breeze that made me rethink my cardigan.

Brian fell into step next to me as we made our way up the porch and into the house. The couple immediately passed us, gawking at the tall ceilings and the exposed beams. Once they were farther into the house, Brian hung back.

“You haven’t returned any of my messages.”

I kept my smile intact, making sure my voice was soft. “Well, you messaged me on Snapchat…”

“So?” He turned, so we hung back near the foyer while they moved into the kitchen.

I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “So, you’re a thirty-five-year-old man…text me, call me. Teenagers use social media to talk…”

He scoffed, shaking his head, which made me think of my new neighbor and irritated me irrationally.

“Sorry, guess I got confused because of how our relationship started…you know, with you sending me nudes on social media and all.”

Ohmyfuckinggod.

I turned on him, my mouth gaping as the Mathews came back into view.

“We just aren’t sure about the downstairs den option; can we look at the possibilities to customize it?”

I plastered on a fake smile and pulled out the folder under my arm with the alternatives they could select. They browsed and asked more questions, all while Brian smirked behind my back.

My face warmed at the reminder of how stupid and desperate I had been. I was in a funk, missing adult conversation, and honestly just lonely. Brian and I started messaging, and things went from texting to sexting embarrassingly fast, but he’s an attractive man and someone who didn’t require a lot of small talk. We both already knew what the other did for work, which left us open to discussing different things and how we were essentially just looking for a hookup.

So, by the time we had eventually gone on a real date, we’d already been fucking casually for nearly three months. Mostly in the back of his car and in parking lots. Sometimes in the model houses, but never in either of our homes. He’d never met Cruz, and I ended things after we tried dating for real. We didn’t havea relationship, we hooked up, and I instantly regretted the nudes after I had sent them.

I hated always having to live with regret. It was like my soul was tainted, and no matter how good I tried to be or how clean I lived, one tiny speck of dust would corrode the entire thing again.

No matter how painful it was, I never seemed to learn my lesson.

Once the Mathews were finished, Brian took off just as quickly as they did, likely too afraid that I’d call him on his shit or the fact that he was a lazy lay. He loved getting head but never went down on me. His dirty talk was weak and cringe-worthy. I didn’t mind that he had a smaller dick; he knew how to use it, but he was just lazy, and his kisses were sloppy. Not worth the effort, but I still let things drag when all I wanted was someone to touch me. To literally stroke a finger down my arm or move the hair from my shoulder.

No one ever talked about how that becomes a craving. More than sex. More than sleeping next to someone. Just having touch becomes an absolute obsession. So really, even if he didn’t have a dick, I likely would have continued to fuck Brian until we dated, and I realized I was falling back into the same patterns I always did before where I fell for complete assholes.

I needed a nice, sensible man—someone with a bank job or maybe a tax accountant—someone who went to bed early, had a steady job, and would be there to talk to every night. An idea sparked as I left work and headed to get Cruz from preschool.

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