Mister WonderFULL (Wonderful Love Book 2) by Maggie Marr

Author:Maggie Marr [Marr, Maggie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary Romance, second-chance romance, reunion romance, Hollywood, lover for hire, women's fiction, Romance
Publisher: Margaret Marr
Published: 2017-04-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“There seems to be a great deal of stress in your life,” Vida says.

I glance away from the large clock that sits behind her desk to my left. “Stress?”

“Well you mentioned your mother has Alzheimer’s. Your sister is a Judge and a full-time single parent, and that you try to help. Your niece is only five, which is a challenging age as most of her needs are still met by the adults around her. Plus, your job seems very high risk. How do you manage all the stress?”

My inclination is to laugh, but I stuff that one deep into my chest because laughing seems like the exact wrong thing to do with Vida staring at me; her gaze intent and her question earnest.

I Wonderfuck…or I did, but I can’t tell her that, can I? I can’t tell her that I created an alter ego and that the woman that I’m in love with completely screwed me over by writing a salacious story about my alter ego while interviewing all the women I’ve wonderfucked. Oh, and by the way, I’ve also wonderfucked her mother.

Nope, no can do. Can’t tell her any of that…

“I work out,” I say.

Vida raises an eyebrow and makes a note on her pad of yellow paper. “You mentioned being engaged?”

Fuck. Did I? I don’t remember saying anything about Susie. I need to keep better track of what I tell Vida because she’s sharp and she takes notes and I’ve been trying to follow this rule of not telling her everything.

“I…she…” I swallow. I really don’t want to talk about Susie. I still don’t want to talk about Susie. “She died,” I finally say.

Vida’s face remains impassive, but sadness and empathy flicker in her eyes.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

I don’t respond because how do you respond when someone apologizes for your loss? Nothing, nothing can be said to those words other than, “Thank you.”

“That must’ve been incredibly difficult for you.”

I don’t answer because I don’t want to talk about Susie. I don’t want to think about her death or the aftermath, and the days and nights I lost, and how my life was empty until I figured out a way to save myself.

“How did you cope with that loss?”

I take a deep breath. Lying is exhausting. Maybe that’s why I created Wonderfuck because Wonderfuck wasn’t a lie, isn’t a lie. Wonderfuck simply became my path to survival.

“I drank a lot and did some drugs. Lost myself in a bottle until my sister came and got me out.”

“For how long?”

“About six months.”

“Her death was unexpected?”

My heart is on a fishhook and Vida holds the other end of line, tugging and pulling and yanking with each word, every question, reeling me in through the fucking excruciating pain.

Fuck it.

“If jumping off a balcony is unexpected, then yeah, unexpected.”

Vida’s face isn’t nearly as impassive. The skin around her mouth tightens, and her empty hand fists as though she’s forcing herself not to press her fingers to her lips and say, ‘Oh my god, no.

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