How To Bring Your Love Life Back From The Dead Page 4

  She blinked and stared straight ahead. She’d never expected to feel so crappy when someone told her they were interested in her. It was so couched in his feelings for his wife. I like you better than my late wife, but now I know it’s too late to feel all this with her, and I held back with her and…. No version of her would get excited about that mixed bag.

  “I’m saying this all wrong.”

  She couldn’t disagree there. He wasn’t saying it right. Thus far, his words were like taking a soccer ball straight to the gut. There were wounds you couldn’t just rub some dirt on and make them fine.

  “I’m sorry if being around me makes you feel guilty about how you felt about your wife.” She clenched her teeth and blinked furiously. “That’s not my fault, though.” Her voice cracked just a bit at the end, but hopefully he hadn’t heard that.

  “It’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just struggling to know how I want to feel about all this—which sounds like gibberish when I say it.”

  She shook her head, even though he couldn’t see it. “I don’t think you’re ready to start dating…and I just don’t…. I just can’t….” She couldn’t be the one to get her heart sent through the shredder. She didn’t deserve it. Self-preservation.

  “Lauren, please don’t hang up. Please.”

  “Yes?” She was at the edge of a cliff. One more wrong word, and she’d give up.

  “I want to be ready, and I want to date you. I think the fact that you make me want so much and you make me feel so alive…is what scares me and has me doubting things. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.”

  Well, that was better, but…it was just so much work. Was she lazy for wishing things were easier and simpler?

  Maybe.

  Gutless?

  Sure.

  Could it be worth it?

  She swallowed. If she walked away from this chance, she’d never forgive herself, and she’d measure every relationship up against what this could have been. Some things were worth it.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “I want to go to the Halloween party with you. Am I still invited?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll be a zombie if you’ll give me a second chance.”

  She smiled. “If I had a nickel for every time a guy said that.” She settled back against the couch cushions. Sometimes things came back from the dead. Zombies. Her love life.

  Four Days Later

  “He’s meeting me here,” Lauren told her friend Melissa as they set up for the party.

  “You really like this guy, huh?” Melissa set out a tray of cookies. “I asked someone to bring a veggie tray, but I don’t know why. The only one who eats healthy is you—and maybe your guy. The rest of us will just hoover this plate of cookies in the first five minutes, and I’ll have to break out my emergency Oreos.”

  “I do like him, but…is this all the cookies?” There were around six dozen, but Melissa wasn’t kidding about the group’s sweet tooth.

  “No, this is what I’m in charge of. Everyone else is bringing something too.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me to bring something?”

  Melissa blushed. “We all kind of wondered if you’d have enough on your plate scrambling for a date so you wouldn’t be embarrassed after the big stink you threw about Tammy.”

  “Tammy kept complaining every five seconds about how miserable she was because she was alone. I’ve never complained.”

  Melissa looked up and stared pointedly. They were close enough that Melissa didn’t have to say the words.

  “I am miserable alone,” Lauren admitted. “I just didn’t complain about it, and I did get a date for tonight.”

  “You did,” Melissa said. “Is he a keeper?”

  Lauren had been taping up fake spider webs but she stopped and shrugged. “He is for me, but I’m not sure if anything I feel is mutual.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  She wasn’t ready to talk about all the ways it was complicated. At least he’d wanted to come to this still.

  The doorbell rang and kept ringing every few minutes for a half an hour. Just when she was losing hope…again, a zombie showed up—a zombie who was the right height and looked awkwardly at the group that turned to stare whenever the doorbell rang.

  Daniel raised his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m looking for brains but I think I’ve got the wrong house.”

  Everyone laughed and went back to talking as she made her way to his side.

  “Ahh…this is more like it,” he said when he saw her.

  “Yeah, I’m the only one with brains in this whole place.” She took him around and introduced him, but then dragged him onto Melissa’s back porch with a cup of apple cider and plates of goodies. As Melissa predicted, her plate was full of mostly veggies, but so was Daniel’s.

  “I’m glad you came,” she said, sitting down on the porch swing. The sun was setting, but the cloudless sky meant there was the nip of fall in the air. She slid closer to him while trying not to seem overly eager. She was. And she was getting her hopes up again. She had no self-preservation skills.

  “I’m glad I came too. Sorry I was late. My dog escaped and came home with the matching shoe to his previous find—and he was followed by a pissed-off shoe owner. I had to make peace and throw money at him. My dog has expensive taste in chew toys.” He reached out and touched her cheek. “You look great. This peeling skin is vile. I like it.”

  “I know. I bought this kit, and it took a while to put on, but I think it was worth it.”

  “You look dead. I look like a tired mime in comparison.”

  She laughed. He was undervaluing his look, but the flesh-peeling makeup really did look authentic. Every time she’d caught sight of herself in a mirror, she’d cringed. “I’m a little afraid it’ll peel off, and I’ll accidentally eat my face.”

  “That would be even more authentic.” He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you gave me a second chance. I…should have said things better before.”

  She glanced down at her food and dipped a carrot in ranch dressing as if it was a complex process. “I wasn’t sure you wanted a second chance.”

  One of her hands was on the swing beside her, and he slid his hand to cover it. “I did. I do. I’m just….” He sighed. “I’m just stumbling with words for someone who has hopes of being a writer. Nadia and I met in high school, and she knew even then that chances were she wouldn’t see thirty. Her heart couldn’t take much strain so everything between us was quiet and careful. Excitement could kill her.” He picked up her hand and held it between both of his, playing with her fingers. “When you and I were in the haunted house—“

  His smile told her what specific time he was referring to, and her heart picked up its pace. Yeah. That. That was amazing.

  “I’ve never felt anything like that. It was amazing. I didn’t know it could feel like that.”

  Licking her lips, she asked, “Are you sure that it wasn’t just maybe the novelty?” It was hard enough to know she was the rebound girl, but maybe she could be anyone, and he’d feel this way.

  “No, it was you. Well, it was us. We’re amazing together.”

  She nodded. They were. So amazing. Electric. She’d never felt so alive—which made the crash after that much harder.

  “I’m serious. Maybe you’re used to such things, but I felt like I was going to explode—in a good way.”

  Lauren met his gaze. “I’m not used to that either.”

  Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think I’m ready to do more than write about relationships.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “I told you I do some freelance writing. I wrote this article not so long ago from scraps of stuff sent to me by this psychology site’s experts. It got picked up by a few dating sites and even this obscure little magazine bought it from the company I work for. The title made it a shoe-in for Halloween editions. Anyway, my byline listed
me as a leading expert in relationships. As I said, Nadia was my high school girlfriend, so this would be my second attempt at relationships. Apparently it doesn’t take much to be an expert in such things.”

  Lauren winced. “It wouldn’t happen to be an article about bringing your love life back from the dead, would it?”

  He grinned. “You read it?”

  “I may have been attempting to follow your advice.” If this all fell apart again, at least she could actually blame him. There was that.

  He laughed ruefully. “Why wasn’t one of the steps to forgive morons you meet in the fog?”

  “Why wasn’t one of them to kiss as many zombies as you can?”

  He leaned in and kissed her. At least he could take a hint.

  It was almost as hot as in the haunted house—up until some of her face make-up rubbed off and dropped between them.

  She’d had her hands on his shoulders, and she could feel them shaking in silent laughter. She laughed against his mouth, and they both pulled back from the ruined romantic moment.

  He held up the glob of fake skin that was resting on his torn-up jeans. “I think you dropped some of your face. I also think I messed up the title of that article. It should have been how to bring your love life back with the undead.”

  Two Years Later

  “Watching you walk to the door to hand out candy is the highlight of my life,” Daniel said as Lauren closed the door after another batch of trick-or-treaters.

  “Why? Because I’m round as a pumpkin or because I eat three pieces on the way to the door each time?”

  He considered it carefully. “I think…both.”

  Both was a good answer. He could be taught.

  Walking over to her, Daniel took the bowl from her hands and set it to the side before rubbing a hand across the top of her very pregnant belly. “And how is Jerry tonight? Is he telling you to eat all our candy before the kids can?”

  “Stop calling him Jerry!” She swung a fist at him which he grabbed and raised to his mouth to kiss. Her energy for even playful fighting melted, and she sagged against him so he could put his arms around her and rub her stomach.

  “Do you need to get off your feet for a bit? I can take door duty.”

  When she didn’t answer immediately, he led her to the couch where she fell with a sigh and put her feet up. Everything about her seemed swollen and achy now. It was amazing and miserable. It was lovely and awful. Hopefully, she’d get the little parasite—whom she loved to pieces already—out of her soon because her thoughts never seemed to match anymore. Everything made her happy and sad at the same time. She felt crazy…in the sanest sort of way.

  “Do you feel bad we didn’t go to Melissa’s party this year?” She grabbed a handful of candy corn. Their baby was going to be part candy corn with how she was gobbling these down. Daniel couldn’t know this was the third bag in the candy tray this week alone. And she wasn’t going to tell him. She was keeping the mystery alive in their marriage.

  “No. I agree with the doctor—with all the preterm labor, you’re better off having a night at home. Besides, this has been fun, and I got us a few scary movies to watch later.”

  He took off her shoes and rubbed her feet, and she sank farther into the couch. “I’m not fragile, though. I’ll be fine at this.” Sometimes, he tried to coddle her because of Nadia, but she wasn’t his first wife, and she felt like it needed to be said every so often—even if they didn’t talk about her a whole lot. It never got easier to feel like she had to share him with someone else, and she couldn’t even hate Nadia because she seemed like a decent person. Plus, Nadia was dead, so Lauren was the luckier of the two. She got to spend the rest of her life with the man Nadia had loved. Life wasn’t fair, and it was hard to be grateful for that.

  “No, you’re not fragile.”

  “It’ll be nice to get back to having sex after the baby,” she said…and then slid a look at him. “I meant to say that inside my head. I think this pregnancy has turned off my mental filter.”

  “I noticed that—you nearly made that cashier cry earlier for not using the reusable bags we’d brought from home. You kept muttering things under your breath. It was either that or you had a Jerry or a Gollum thing going. I was almost rooting for Gollum.”

  “Well, excuse me for wanting to save the environment for our baby!” She almost wanted to hit him again, but she couldn’t reach past her belly that far. Plus, he was rubbing her feet.

  “No. You’re right. We should have had the guy flogged. Plus, he stuck the hand soap in with the eggs. That alone….”

  Lauren narrowed her eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t notice that you keep agreeing with me and then one-upping my insanity. I’m pretty sure that’s patronizing.”

  He smiled, reached out, and touched her hand. “Do you know you’re the smartest and most beautiful woman I’ve ever met?”

  She sighed and relaxed. He always seemed to know the right thing to say—even lately when she was insane from pregnancy hormones. He was perfect for her. “You know that article you wrote way back when that I read? I made a list of what I wanted in a spouse, and you fit it.”

  “That’s good because it’s too late for you now. I’ve got you, and I’m keeping you.”

  The doorbell rang, and he pushed up from the couch. She sat up and watched him walk to go hand out candy. He had a point. It was sort of sweet watching him do something so husbandly…no, fatherly. He complimented the kids on their costume and gave them generous handfuls of candy—almost too generous. Still, those had been some awfully cute kids. Their kid would be cuter, but that went without saying.

  It was nice to spend Halloween doing this for a change.

  Daniel closed the door and set the bowl to the side. Plus, Daniel just flat-out had a nice ass.

  He froze and then laughed. “Did you know you’re talking out loud again?”

  “Oh. Awkward.”

  “Luckily, I’d shut the door.” He dipped his hand in the bowl and brought her back some snack-size chocolate bars. “But it earned you treats.”

  “I wish it earned me tricks.”

  “Again. Out loud.”

  She popped one of the chocolates into her mouth. “I know. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” He leaned over the back of the couch and kissed her. The doorbell rang again.

  “After this, I think you should shut off the porch light,” she said.

  “I will, and I love you enough to pretend it’s because you want to spend time squished together on the couch watching scary movies and not because you want the rest of the candy.”

  “That’s why I love you.”

  “I know.”

  The creak was just that of an old building. That was all. The building was over one hundred years old. Even renovations most likely left the bones of the library the same. Bones creaked. Old buildings settled. They made noises. The quiet of the old “Franklin Collection” room at the back of the library made the creaking seem spooky.

  Analise shifted to look around, and the desk lamp played with her shadow and bounced it around, making her jump. The moonlight filtering through the high windows wasn’t helping. It was enough light to see by, but not enough to dispel the shadows that seemed to move in her periphery, and it cast an eerie blue tint on everything.

  She and Jenny had discussed researching the spooky history of old buildings in the area. Jenny was hoping for ghosts. Hah! Like Seaside had any ghosts. It had been much funnier before Ana stepped inside one of the oldest buildings in the city.

  It was not haunted.

  She didn’t believe in ghosts.

  At all.

  She refocused on the book in front of her. This was the best time for research. The very best time. Concentrate. She rolled her eyes. She’d read the same sentence in the book five times. Five times. She was in her twenties—not teens. And she most definitely didn’t believe in ghosts. Putting her finger under the small print, she wedged it into her memory this time. She
was going to remember that one statistic from the Civil War if it killed her.

  The floorboard in the book stacks creaked again. She ignored it. This was how rumors started after all. Someone heard a noise in an old building, which had a backroom that few visited, and it had to be a ghost. There was no logical explanation after all. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head. She could do this. Being the great, great granddaughter of one of the original patrons was only good for so many nights after-hours. She couldn’t jump at shadows.

  She needed to get the information and get back to writing the dialogue for Jenny’s Haunted History tour. Jenny wanted “juicy” stories for it. As Ana was a co-owner in “Living History Tours” and much better at research, not to mention she had the Franklin family connections, she was the logical choice to be here.

  Logical—as in a decision not based on emotions or fear…or a creaking floorboard that had just creaked again.

  Pushing to her feet, she strode through the small room to the stacks where the noise was coming from. “Ana, you’re being ridiculous. This is stupid and silly and irrational.” And she turned the corner in time to see a vapory form of a man look up from a book he was reading and regard her with one raised eyebrow. Was it just her—or was everything all warm and tight and black?

  Ana fell in a faint that the ghost of Shane Blythe dove to catch.

  *****

  Well, that was unlucky. It had been decades since someone could see Shane unless he wished it, and the library closed long before he stretched out his ghostly legs to tour the room. He’d grown careless about his late night wandering in the deserted library’s back room. All the creaking of the floorboards must have been from her, not the settling of the building as he’d supposed. Damn.

  She was quite a fetching little thing. Maybe he wasn’t so unlucky after all. He caught her in his arms, managing enough corporeal strength pushed out for the ten seconds it took to catch her and lay her down. Most nights, he only used his energy to look through books, not catch beautiful, fainting redheads who appeared out of nowhere.