Page 1 of Love Rescheduled

“HAPPY NEW YEAR, LORD MAC. You were absolutely amazing last night. I daresay you are, without a doubt, one of the best decisions of my life. Well worth the wait.” I happily sighed and then ran a finger down the cool, shiny metal of my laptop. I’d been saving for over two years for that royal bad boy. And he was royally bad, as in so, so good. Which was why he’d received a place of honor on the pillow next to me. Also because my reading genre of choice was Regency novels. And if I was going to have a fictitious boyfriend, he was going to be a lord. In reality, Lord Mac ended up on my pillow because I worked way too late last night and I thought it best to rest him carefully and safely next to me. I was a real party animal ringing in the New Year. Like most nights of my life, I was fast asleep by eleven. This may be the reason I nickname my laptops and then sleep with them.

I stretched before sitting up and reached for my phone resting on the nightstand. The sun wasn’t even peeking her pretty head up this early in the morning. Most people would probably say I shouldn’t be awake, either, given it’s a holiday, but I arise at the same time every morning to start my routine. First up, perusing my schedule for the day. Today was special, as I would be going over my yearly calendar items. It gave me a little chill. Why it brought me so much satisfaction, I didn’t know. Probably the same reason I was sleeping with electronics. It was predictable. And there were few things I loved more than schedules and predictability.

I curled my feet under me, enjoying the feel of my silky legs. Yesterday happened to be wax, polish, and shine day. Every Saturday, just like clockwork.

In the glow of my screen, I clicked on my calendar app. A reminder popped up: Are you ready for September?

September? Why did I write that note to myself? I thought and thought, trying to remember why I would make such a cryptic note. Nothing came to mind, so I scrolled down to September.

The first week I had scheduled edits for one of my client’s new romantic suspense novels. I only hoped this time Holly added some real suspense. I guessed the ending in the first few chapters of her last book.

The rest of September was more of the same: another client and my monthly podcast, A Party of Two and the Wallflower, with my best friends. I am the wallflower. Tara and Jolene are the party—always the party. They are, in three words, my emotional support extroverts. If ever I am expected to be at a social function, one or both are required to come with me. Our podcast is all about how to navigate relationships, whether they be romantic partnerships or friendships, between extroverts and introverts. I mostly focus on friendships, seeing as I tend to be found lying with my laptop.

I scrolled all the way through the month until the last day, Saturday the thirtieth. There was one word: WEDDING.

Wedding? Whose wedding? How could I forget to note who was getting married? Did I get a save the date? Which isn’t a concept I’ve exactly embraced. Send me the wedding announcement. At which point, I would save the date and then probably not attend unless Tara or Jolene forced me. Although I would be sure to send a lovely gift.

I threw off the covers, feeling unsettled about not knowing whose wedding I was supposed to be thinking of an excuse to skip. I wasn’t usually this careless with my calendar. I looked at the time, knowing full well Tara and Jolene would be sleeping, as they were on Central time in Nashville and I was on Eastern time living in Greer, South Carolina—just named one of the safest places to live, thank you very much. Jolene was part of a big comedy show last night at a downtown club. Tara was a better friend than me and went to support her. I probably would have gone if it were anywhere else except that club in Nashville. Sure, I could have hidden in the corner and tried not to make eye contact with anyone. But … it’s just that club, well … it was too much of a reminder of the biggest extrovert to ever infiltrate my life. The biggest reason I moved away from Nashville. No time to think about him. I had to figure out whose wedding I’d been invited to in September. The suspense was upending my ordered tranquility.

I bit my lip and decided to wake up my best friends. For all I knew, they hadn’t even gone to bed yet. It was completely plausible.

I dialed Tara’s number first as she was, let’s say, a kinder, gentler soul in the morning. If you spoke to Jolene before her caffeine infusion, it might very well be the last thing you did.

After two rings, Tara answered. “Are you all right? Tell me who died,” her voice croaked.

“I’m fine. Why do you think someone died?”

“Because,” she yawned. “It’s not time for you to call yet.”

See, I was predictable. I called Tara and Jolene every day at ten Central. It was perfect, as Jolene was a stand-up comedian by night and a freelance ad copywriter by day, and Tara was a client of mine. She wrote hilarious rom-coms based on her real-life dating experiences. Her latest was a bizarre tale of catfishing. I was pretty sure she was giving up online dating after thinking she had been chatting with a neurologist for three months. That was until she hopped on a plane to Portland ready to go all Grey’s Anatomy on her Dr. McDreamy only to find out he was in reality a barista at Starbucks. Thankfully, she ended up meeting a nice biology professor while in line waiting for her latte and to confront that liar, Chad. She and the somewhat grumpy professor are still talking. In the book, of course, it’s been deemed a love match. We shall see if fiction becomes reality.

“I’m sorry to worry you, but I have a baby-sized dilemma.”

“Did the grocery store rearrange the aisles again? We talked about this before. Change can be our friend,” she spoke to me like I was five. More like my life coach, Alec, who was helping me to be more spontaneous and less structured. Was it working? After only a year, it was still too early to tell.

“Oh, ha ha. And just for the record, it’s ridiculous to move jam to the juice aisle. It clearly belongs with the peanut butter. What other reason is there to buy jam?”

“What about a jam tart?”

“Who has time to make those? And even if you did, you don’t need juice.”

“That’s an astute deduction.”

“I feel like you’re mocking me now.”

“I would never.” She laughed a tired laugh. “I’m living off only an hour of sleep. So, if you’re not having a jam crisis, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“We wish you were here,” she said, not in a scolding manner. More like, We understand you have issues and still love you. “Jolene killed it last night.”

Massive guilt set in, making me squirm. I really needed to be a better friend. “I should have been there, but in my defense, you need your manuscript back. It’s brilliant, by the way.”

“Thanks, Nat, but I still wish you were here.”

“I know,” I sighed. “It’s just that place.” The place where for a moment in time, I thought maybe I could be someone I’m not. Someone who lived life on a whim and in the spotlight. But the glaring rays cast shadows that plunged me into the dark. In that darkness lived the ugly truths of my past and all my self-doubts. It was too much to overcome. I needed order and schedules—a quiet life unhindered by the fame of the man I love.

“Josh …,” she hesitated to say his name, though she didn’t have to. Josh would always be a part of me, and I made sure to keep up on his life, as hurtful as it was. By keeping up, I meant stalking him on social media anonymously. “… Doesn’t even live in Nashville now.”

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