Page 7 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

“They have character.”

“They have avocado-colored toilets.”

“I’m going to grab that block of cheese and beat you over the head with it, and then we can talk about avocado-colored toilets.”

A chuckle builds up in my chest. I glance over at Laurel, who pretends to be stern but is soon laughing with me. I wipe the tears that spring from my eyes and shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m being horrible.”

“You’ve had a rough day. But look at everything you’ve accomplished in six years, Audrey. It’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

I don’t feel incredible. Pinching my lips, I say, “I can’t believe I crashed into a tree.”

“What did your neighbor say?”

“Haven’t met them yet, but I can’t imagine they’ll be happy.”

“Maybe you should bring something over tomorrow and apologize. Cookies or a pie or something. Everyone loves pie, and I’m sure you have perfectly labeled pre-prepped pie crusts in your freezer, so it’s not like it’ll be a huge undertaking to bake one.” She sees my pinched lips and starts laughing. I do have pie crusts in the freezer. “I knew it! And who knows? Maybe your neighbor is a man, and single, and wildly attractive. Maybe he’ll invite you in and then give it to you over the kitchen counter, and then you can recover by eating pie together.”

I roll my eyes. “Not this again.”

“Audrey.”

“My neighbor is probably a little old lady with a passion for gardening. You saw the place. Hot single men don’t have flower pots in their front yards.”

“You won’t know until you go over there.”

“If you start trying to get me to date again, I’ll go grab that block of cheese and start bludgeoning.”

Laurel gets an evil gleam in her eyes. “I never said anything about dating. Plus, it’s been six years, honey. Don’t you think you should put yourself out there?”

“I have a business to run, and apparently I can’t even manage to buy a decent company van, so I’m not sure I’m exactly qualified to even do that. I don’t have time for men. And you know I’ve never been interested in casual sex. My wires get crossed and I always get too attached. Didn’t work in my twenties and I doubt it’ll work now.”

I got attached to Terry. Married him the year after we graduated college, and that union lasted a decade. I’ve spent more than half that again trying to recover. He’s been a fixture in my life from the ages of twenty to forty. I gave that man half of my entire life, and he didn’t deserve a minute of it.

Laurel hums. I glare at the coffee table and try to ignore her. When she takes a deep breath, I brace myself for another loving, stern volley.

“Tell me about the accident.”

Bunching my lips to the side, I try to come up with an explanation, but all I can do is tell her the truth. “I forgot to schedule the yearly service. The brakes malfunctioned. I knew they were getting worn down, but I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“Hmm.”

“What do you mean, ‘hmm?’”

“That explains the van, but it doesn’t explain your mood. What’s really going on?”

“Laurel, I just told you.”

“I’ve known you for twenty years, honey. What happened?”

“I’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“You are at your best when you’re spinning a dozen plates, Audrey. Now tell me what’s going on.”

My sigh sounds like I’m fourteen years old and angsty about being grounded. But I know she’ll get it out of me one way or another, so I admit the truth: “Terry’s new wife wants me to organize her home. Their home.”

“What.” Laurel slams her tea down on a side table and stares at me. The tea sloshes over the lip of the mug onto the timber table. I’ll have to clean that before it ruins the wood.

Before I can do that, though, Laurel grips the edge of the couch and launches herself up, pacing the length of my living room and back. “Terry as in your ex-husband Terry? His new wife? His affair partner? That woman wants you to organize the home she shares with your adulterous ex-husband? Am I understanding this correctly?”

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