Page 6 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

“I heard, and I’m here to save you from yourself.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She kicks her Birkenstock sandals off and sweeps into my home, homing in on the bite-marked block of cheese like some kind of hound trained to find a person’s most embarrassing displays of shame-related gluttony. She points at the aged cheddar triumphantly. “It means you’re taking bites out of blocks of cheese, honey. You’re wallowing.”

“I don’t wallow. And that’s artisan cheese, I’ll have you know.”

“You are like a pig in shit, sweetie. Except without the happy oinks.”

“Stop calling me pet names.”

“Babe.” She shakes her head. “Pardon the pun. Come on. Let’s put the cheese away.”

“What did my cheese ever do to you?” I grab the block and take another bite out of it, because I’m spiteful and immature. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as the first bite (and the first bite wasn’t great, what with me having to swallow my mortifying shame along with it), especially with Laurel looking at me with that patient, loving expression on her face. I chew and swallow, then look at the cheddar. It stares back at me, sniggering.

I sigh. “Fine.”

When the cheese is away and we’re sitting on the couch with mugs of chamomile tea, Laurel spears me with those big blue eyes of hers and arches her brows. “Now,” she starts. “Did you really crash your company van into your neighbor’s tree?”

I sip my drink and nod. “Yep.”

“And you did it in front of an audience? An audience that includes the twins?” Dorothy and Margaret are the font of all gossip in the town of Heart’s Cove, but I have a sneaking suspicion Agnes isn’t too far behind. I’m sure my run-in with the magnolia tree has been dramatized a million times over by now.

A sigh slips through my lips. “Yep.”

“And then you passed out and had to be taken to the hospital?”

I put the mug down and slap my hands over my face. I can’t even manage another “yep,” so I just groan.

Laurel’s hand lands on my upper back and starts making small circles. “Are you okay? Physically, I mean?”

“According to the doctors, yes. I passed out from stress and shock.”

“That must have been pretty scary.”

“My life flashed before my eyes,” I tell her.

“Really?” Laurel folds her foot under her opposite knee. “What did you see?”

“That I’m a failure who can’t even manage to buy a van properly, let alone run a business.” And my ex-husband treated me exactly the way I deserved, so who am I to think I could actually rise above the breakdown of my marriage and strive for anything better in my life?

“Hey.” Laurel points a finger at me. “No wallowing. If you go anywhere near another dairy product right now, so help me God…”

I snort, slouching back on the sofa. “I don’t know. Ever since the divorce I feel like I’ve been in a tailspin.”

“You’ve been divorced six years, Audrey.” She sets her mug down on the coffee table and frowns at me. “In six short years, you’ve started a business that has grown to, what, seven employees?”

“Eight.”

“Eight employees,” she amends. “You’ve gained a social media following of rabid fans. You are the Organizing Goddess. In what world is that a failure? Look at this house you just bought!” She points at the sliding glass doors that lead to the huge backyard. Beyond the back fence is darkness, but I know in the daylight I’ll be able to see a sliver of glittering blue ocean in the distance. It’s not the best area of town, but with property prices skyrocketing, it felt like I’d just snagged the deal of a lifetime.

The divorce wrecked me financially, and then I decided to pour every available penny into the business. I’m just now finding my feet, and this house is all I could afford. I paid a premium for that sliver of a view, a premium which has now come back to bite me in the butt.

“The house needs to be gutted and redone,” I say, glancing around.

“Oh, stop it. That’s a lie and you know it.”

“The bathrooms are dated.”

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