Page 79 of Filthy Little Midlife Fling

I’m going to fix this. I’ll make sure she knows how important she is to me. Whether or not she wants me afterward is out of my hands.

The previous van owner puts way too much information on social media. I flick through a few photos and—aha!—his brother-in-law is a mechanic in Santa Rosa.

Call me Nancy fucking Drew, because I think I just solved a mystery.

She might never want to take me back. We had a fling, and now it’s over. But Audrey won’t get bullied and pushed around by a man when I can do something about it. I sure as hell won’t let myself be lumped in with all the other lowlifes who treated her badly.

Audrey deserves to shine. I’m going to help her do it.

I lock up the garage and scroll through my phone until I find Mac’s number. He’s got kids now too—stepkids—who are around Danny’s age.

“Mac,” I say when he answers. “I need a favor. Can you watch Danny tonight? I’ve got to go on a little road trip.”

THIRTY-ONE

AUDREY

Yesterday was Meg’s last day, and I’m already feeling her absence. It takes me hours longer than usual to finish the day’s tasks, and I end up working until after seven o’clock.

The past two weeks have been tough. I don’t remember work being so difficult, and I know I’m hanging onto sanity by a thread. Remy hasn’t spoken to me, other than a polite nod when we happen to leave or arrive at our houses at the same time. Once, the day before yesterday, it looked like he wanted to talk to me, so I lingered by my front door a bit longer than necessary. I heard him sigh and disappear into his backyard, and I went inside and cried.

It’s silly to be so hung up on a man I dated for a few weeks. It makes me feel stupid and emotional, but what can I do? He made me dream of a better life, and now I need to resign myself to the fact that that better life was a mirage.

The Organizing Goddess office is near the center of town, just a few streets away from Cove Boulevard. I stare out the window at the leafy green trees and the fading light of the sun, and I know it’s time for me to go home.

Home—what a concept. That house hasn’t felt like home since the day I messed up and forgot to pick Danny up from camp. I poured all my savings into it, and now I’m wondering how soon it’ll be before I can afford to move again.

Sighing, I gather my things and head for the door. My van is making an alarming new noise, but I’ve burned my relationship with the town mechanic, so I’ll have to find someone else to trust to fix it. I add that to my mental to-do list as I drive toward the house on the hill I never should have bought.

By the time I’ve parked in my driveway, I feel bone-tired and empty.

Then my phone rings.

I lean back in the driver’s seat and check the device, rolling my eyes at the sight of my ex-husband’s name on the screen. What does he want now?

“What.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and wait for the sound of his grating voice with my eyes closed.

“This is a courtesy call, Audrey. After I hang up with you, I’m calling my lawyer.”

I drop my hand and stare through the windshield, seeing nothing. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t give me that shit, Audrey. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Terry, I think you might actually have lost your mind.” I pull the door open and slip out, then turn around to grab my purse from the passenger seat. Closing the door with my hip, I hold my phone between my ear and shoulder while I fumble with the keys to lock the van door (the fob broke a few days ago, so I have to lock the doors manually, which is something that actually needs to go on my mental to-do list too).

“If that piece of shit doesn’t give me my car back, I’m calling the police. I mean it, Audrey.”

I freeze, straightening. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I’m not playing anything,” I grit out. “What are you talking about?”

Stepping onto the flagstones leading to my front door, I freeze. Terry says something in my ear, but I’m staring at the newly shorn blades of grass between the flagstones. Then my gaze travels the length of my yard.

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