AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What was he doing right now? Feeding his beautiful, pregnant wife pickles and ice cream? Rubbing her feet? Painting the nursery?
All the thoughts felt like daggers in her brain. Why did she do this to herself? Why did she torture herself like this?
Still, she couldn’t help it. She had to silence the morbid curiosity in her mind. She pulled up Dean’s Facebook page. Instantly, she wished she hadn’t. He had taken a selfie with his beaming wife, his own hand over her belly. The caption read, “And baby makes three!”
The post had dozens and dozens of comments, all gushing, all happy for the couple. Dean looked happy, grinning from ear to ear, the epitome of a proud papa. If she had any doubt about everything he told her being a lie, then his photo confirmed it. He was happy with his wife. She’d just been a distraction.
A text popped up from her older sister, Maddie. How’s Margaritaville?
Fine, Laura texted back. Even though it wasn’t fine. She’d traveled thousands of miles away and she was just starting to realize there wasn’t anywhere far enough she could run to get away from her problems. The last thing she needed was for Maddie, who wasn’t afraid to let Laura know in detail all the ways she was mucking up in her life, to tell her how this was all a huge waste of time. Maddie had been trying to fill their mother’s shoes ever since she’d passed away. Laura wanted to tell her that wasn’t her job.
You going to come back soon? Think of your retirement! You might be able to put money back in your 401(k) without a penalty if you work fast.
Laura sighed and put the phone facedown on the bar. Leave it to her older sister to harp on her about responsibility. She just didn’t understand. Nobody seemed to understand.
Mark understood, a small voice whispered in her head. And instantly she remembered the embarrassment of trying to kiss the man. Mark was a nonstarter.
The bartender placed the tumbler of the clear cocktail with lime in front of her.
“Would you like to pay now or start a tab?”
“Tab,” she said and slid her credit card over the bar, figuring this was a more-than-one-drink kind of night.
“I’ve got it, Greg,” came a smooth voice to her right. She turned, slipping her phone in her pocket, to see a man who looked…a little like Mark. But wasn’t Mark. Older, a bit grayer in the temples, but the same dark eyes, the same strong jawline. “And get me a St. Anthony’s IPA, would you?” The bartender nodded and hurried off to get the man’s beer.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she exclaimed, squirming on her bar stool. Sure, she’d dressed up and come out to the bar in the vain hope she might be able to flirt a little, but now, with this age-appropriate man in the linen shorts and button-down light blue shirt, she suddenly felt shy. Not ready. Thrown by Dean’s picture of domestic bliss. Now she wasn’t sure she had the courage to flirt, exactly.
“I know I don’t,” he said smoothly. “But I want to.” He grinned, and she could feel the charm oozing from him. She wondered if her imagination was playing tricks on her with how much he looked like Mark. She could get used to this, though. His smile and his eyes were so much like Mark’s, except friendly.
She nodded, and he slipped onto the stool next to her, his knee casually brushing hers. She liked the contact. He smiled once more and she felt like maybe she did have the courage to flirt. Isn’t that why she’d come? To forget…Mark. Just have a little fun. Be a tourist for once. She smiled back at the stranger.
“You have a beautiful smile,” he said.
“Well, then, you’ll have to make me smile more often.” She laughed a little at her obvious attempt to flirt. He joined her.
“Well, I will. Consider the challenge accepted.”
The bartender returned with his beer and set it on the bar.
The man held up his glass. “To new acquaintances and many more smiles,” he said.
She grinned. “I’ll drink to that.” They clinked glasses and she took a sip of her gin and tonic, the tart crispness hitting her tongue in just the right way. Now her evening was starting to look up.
“So what’s a gorgeous woman like you doing in a dive like this?” he asked.
“That’s a terrible line. Does that work?”
“Nope. But I’m hoping to break the losing streak.” He grinned.
“I’m a tourist. In from San Francisco.”
“Love California!” he exclaimed.
“I’m Laura,” she said, holding out her hand. He took it gently and squeezed, his eyes never leaving hers. “Laura, pleasure to meet you. I’m Edward. Edward Tanner.”
