Page 44 of The Lonely Hearts Book Club

They weren’t easy people, the two of them. They were educated and well-read, smart in ways that I never would be, but neither of them had gone near bubble wrap a day in their lives. Those two were wrapped up in razor wire, I was sure of it. And for all my good intentions, I’d never get close without cutting myself to shreds first.

14

The sound of Bella’s voice woke me just after dawn.

At first, I thought I must be dreaming—one of those warm, liquid dreams that carried you along on a wave of happy memories—but when I heard a male voice grunt and shout, “What the hell?” I realized this was more than the workings of my subconscious mind.

“Mom! Mo-om! Moooo-ooooom!”

Stumbling out of bed, I paused just long enough to shove my arms through my favorite pink satin robe before dashing across the hall to the source. Even though I was still befuddled with sleep, it didn’t take me long to figure out what I was looking at.

Bella, backed into a corner, her finger pointed at the half-naked and fully agitated man tangled up in her sheets. “There’s a strange man in my bed!”

“Yes, love. If you’ll remember, I texted you to tell you that a few weeks ago.” I threw an arm around the trembling teen and steered her in the direction of retreat. With an apologetic wince for Greg, I added, “Ididtell her, Greg. I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine,” he said in a voice that sounded very far from fine. “It’s my fault. Just give me a few minutes, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Absolutely not,” I protested. “It’s six o’clock in the morning. Go back to sleep.”

As soon as I tactfully shut the door behind me, Bella pounced. “Mom, what’s going on? I didn’t think youreallyhad a man staying with you. I thought you made that up.”

“Why would I make up a man?”

“I dunno…for the same reason all the other sad, middle-aged moms do?”

I had no idea which sad, middle-aged moms she was talking about, but it didn’t matter. By the time we cleared the hallway, I realized she was fully dressed and that several suitcases stood by the front door.

“Bella!” I gasped, sensing my salvation in those suitcases. “Did you have a fight with your father? Have you come home to stay?”

“What?” She followed the line of my gaze and grimaced. “No.God, no. The exact opposite. Who is he?”

Since my heart was still coming down from that sudden euphoric flight, it took me a moment to follow her line of conversation.

“The man?” I asked. “Oh. His name’s Greg. He’s old Arthur McLachlan’s grandson.”

“Ew. You’re sleeping with Arthur McLachlan’sgrandson? Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

“He’s a fully grown adult, and no, I’m not sleeping with him. I’m giving him a place to stay while Arthur recovers from his illness.” As much as I had to say on this subject, I wasn’t ready to give up on the suitcases. “I’m always happy to see you, and of course we’ll find somewhere else to stash Greg for as long as you’re staying, but what’s going on? If it’s not a fight with your father…”

Bella took a sudden interest in her cuticles. “Didn’t he call you last night? He was supposed to call you.”

I grabbed my phone where it was plugged into the wall and peeked at it. Sure enough, there were several missed calls and one saved message from my ex. “Oh. I must’ve forgotten to check my phone after book club.”

“Youforgot to check your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Youforgotto check your phone?”

“Um…yes?”

“You forgot to check yourphone?”

“Bella, love. Emphasizing a different word isn’t going to help me understand what’s going on.”

She resumed her interest in her nails. “I told you not to call me ‘love.’” Then, “Maybe you’d better listen to the message.”

The last thing I wanted to do was pull up a recording of the rich, sultry voice that once used to charm me right out of my pants—and all my common sense—but I wasn’t likely to get a straight answer otherwise. Dropping to the table, I pressed the play button and did my best not to look as agitated as I felt.