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He’s the exact kind of guy that I should NOT be using in this situation. He’s probably a player who sleeps around with every woman who asks for advice. Okay, I’m judging this poor man without even knowing him. See, jaded.
He doesn’t seem that bad. If anything, his website and social media are amazing for clickbait. I continue to surf the web for more about him.
“There’s nothing more about him than his picture, his smooth voice on those online videos, and a brief bio that says nothing about him. Yet, people pay him for relationship advice.”
I’m in the wrong business,I don’t say out loud.
“What kind of relationship advice is he offering?” Nydia places her left leg over her shoulder, stretching her right hand. “For free, I can tell you that men are a waste of time. For a hundred dollars, I can find you a good rabbit vibrator off the internet. Nando might be short for something. I used to know a guy with that nickname, but we were kids.”
She switches poses with such grace I wonder if she’s made of rubber. There are times when I want to join the yoga studio where she goes so I can learn to do that. Other times, I remember yoga isn’t for me. I can’t stay in one position for more than twenty seconds, let alone a minute—unless I’m bitterly remembering that today is supposed to be my wedding day. And today, my ass is glued to the barstool, my eyes staring at the screen searching for something useful, and my hand keeps feeding me junk.
“But he promises to get metheguy in just thirty days, or I’ll get my money back.” I try to fake excitement.
“What are you reading?” She stretches herself across the mat.
I wave my tablet. “I was scrolling through the news,” I lie. “You know how you click one article, read it, and find another one, and then you’re in the clicking rabbit hole that never ends? There’s an interview with this guy who swears he can coach you to gettheguy.”
She scoffs. “Can you say, charlatan? That’s impossible.”
“Not only that, but”—I lick my lips—“he claims to have united at least a thousand happy couples since he started working on this project.”
Nydia laughs so hard that her cat, Dex, lifts his head and meows at her. The glare he gives her is priceless. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I wake up and realize he smothered her in her sleep.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your nap.” She chuckles. “See, that’s why we don’t needtheguy.We already have a moody male in the house. At least he’s loyal.”
“Cats don’t buy me flowers or send chocolates just because they thought of me or snuggle next to me at night,” I complain. But my ex didn’t do any of those things either. In fact, my ex dragged me to this small town in search of the dream.
Seriously, why did I quit my corporate job, sell all my belongings, and plan to build a sustainable farm with him? That should be filed under:what was I thinking?
Clearly, I wasn’t thinking at all, and the worst part is that he dumped me.
He. Dumped. Me.
I sigh. “Maybe I should take your suggestion and buy myself a good vibrator.”
“We could go to the city tonight and enjoy the weekend,” she suggests. “No, wait, you’re working, aren’t you?”
“You work on weekends too,” I remind her, then give her ayou’re-worse-than-melook and say, “You never stop working.”
“Shush.” Nydia waves a hand disregarding me. “I have a farm and a store. I can’t just take a day off. At least, they’re mine. You work for a guy who might one day say, ‘I’m selling my business. You’re fired.’”
My stomach drops just thinking about what can happen if he does that. Anyone else would’ve left Luna Harbor the moment they got dumped. It’s been almost two years and I’m still licking my wounds. It’s not like I miss Roland. I’m angry at everything I lost because I believed he was the love of my life.
He wasn’t.
Roland was the promise of everything I always envisioned. He offered me the dream—a family, love, and a place to call home. Now, I’m stranded in Luna Harbor, wondering if I even want to pursue the dream and working myself to death.
That’s when it hits me. Why is Nydia telling me this? “I thought you liked Mr. Cantú.”
“I do, but we both know he might not be around for long. Who’s paying for his treatment? He’s going to need that money,” she says.
There’s sadness and anger in her voice that mirror my feelings about the subject. I know firsthand what cancer can do to people.
“If I could afford it, I’d offer you a job.”
She can barely afford the rent of her shop. If she didn’t own this house and the farm… I won’t think about it. We’re both so screwed. If we were in Chicago, I could help her in so many ways, but here… maybe I should start by figuring out my life, then I can help her. I should make a few calls and see if I can sell her products in big department stores. Selling online just hasn’t been enough for Nydia, but I know she has the potential to go far.
I mean, that’s what the flight attendants say before the planes take off, right? Be sure to secure your own mask before helping others. I have to ensure that I’m in a good place before I try to give her a hand.
