Page 49 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

“Here,” I say, taking my tape measure out of my bag. We go through a detailed list of all the shelving we need to add, along with a new set of built-in drawers. “This tape isn’t exactly accurate at the end,” I tell Meg, pointing to the metal piece attached to the tip of it, “so start at the two-inch mark, and then subtract two from every measurement. That way everything should fit just right.”

Meg frowns. “Okay.” She does the first and second ones correctly, so I leave her to finish the task while I talk to Georgia.

It turns out she’s lived in Heart’s Cove for a few years, and the man at the door was her high school sweetheart, Sebastian. They reconnected after decades apart and are now married.

A bark draws my gaze to the bedroom window, where Sebastian is playing fetch with an energetic brown-and-white dog. Georgia gets a soft smile on her face as she glances out the window, and I feel a twinge in my chest.

I want what she has. Not necessarily the big house on the cliff, but the companionship. The easy kisses. Maybe a dog.

“All done,” Meg says, emerging from the closet. She’s smiling, but it’s a bit hesitant around the edges. “Do you want to check the numbers?”

Yes. I do. I want to go over every single one and make sure they’re right, because no one could possibly do things as well as I can.

But those thoughts are my perfectionism speaking. They’re not serving me anymore. If I want to be a good boss—a good person—I need to let go of this need for control.

When I’m with Remy, I don’t feel this way. I no longer have to cling to life like I can wrestle it into submission. I don’t need to check and re-check everything to make sure everything is just right. I can just…be.

Last week, when he and Danny ate dinner with me, I accidentally smooshed a few of the falafels while I was frying them. I’d left them to the side without wanting to serve them to anyone, but Remy grabbed them when he went up for seconds. He ate them and shook his head, telling me how delicious they were. He called me a great cook.

The falafels didn’t have to be perfect for him to enjoy them. I doubt he even noticed they were oddly shaped—something like that wouldn’t even register on his radar.

I sat there, stressed, and then slowly let that emotion go. The food wasn’t perfect, and that was okay.

I want more of that in my life: more easygoing enjoyment. More joy. I want to be a better person.

So, instead of taking the tape measure and redoing all of Meg’s work, I just smile at the younger woman and tell her what I know she wants to hear: “I trust you.”

It’s hard to let go of control, but it also feels good.

Her smile is bright, which is a reward in itself. “Thank you,” she replies quietly, and she passes me the paperwork.

SEVENTEEN

REMY

Danny bounces on his toes as we wait for Audrey’s door to open. I think the kid is smitten, and I don’t blame him. Ever since we had dinner at Audrey’s place, he peeks over the fence whenever he’s in the backyard.

Earlier, he convinced me to invite Audrey to check out the other gardens on the Heart’s Cove Garden Walking Tour. The kid has shown precisely zero interest in the walking tour, but now, apparently, he’s desperate to go check out the other gardens in town.

Fool that I am, it took nothing more than a question from my ten-year-old nephew to walk over to Audrey’s and ask her along.

The door opens. My heart turns over.

“Remy,” Audrey exclaims. “And Danny!”

“Will you come walking with us? We’re looking at plants.” Danny helpfully points at the bushes, as if to explain what a plant is.

“Oh!” Audrey looks surprised. She’s wearing a loose white dress that hides her curves. Her feet are bare. “Umm…. I was just finishing up a few things for work, but…”

“No pressure,” I cut in. “I should have called earlier to ask.”

“No, it’s okay.” She smiles. “I was just trying to get caught up with invoices, but staring at the screen was beginning to make me go cross-eyed. I’d love to go for a walk. Let me grab my shoes.”

Danny and I step away from her door. A few moments later, Audrey emerges in the same white dress, with white leather sneakers on her feet and a purse slung over her shoulder. She smiles at me, and life feels a little bit better than it did a minute ago.

“Is that the van you crashed into our tree?” Danny asks, pointing.

Audrey jerks her gaze away from me and stares at the van. “Yes,” she answers.

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