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“Oh, right,” William whispered. “Good point.”

The dinner might have been delicious, but, honestly, Vanessa just couldn’t tell. Once again, Mrs. Heller, who was half-Mexican, used a heavy hand with the spices and after the first three or four bites all Vanessa’s mouth could feel was heat. Naturally, she had forgotten to put the Pepto-Bismol in her purse, which meant her heartburn was going to be acting up until she swallowed half the bottle she had left at home. She blamed it on being distracted by thoughts of Megan, thoughts that were becoming alarmingly frequent and always erotic.

Mr. Heller asked her how her business was running, especially in the Covid era. He had also owned a small shop years ago, a haberdashery, a word Vanessa had had to look up when Mr. Heller had first told her about his establishment back when they first met. She had then been amazed he had kept it going for twenty years before it folded, seeing how everything a haberdasher sells could be found at Walmart.

“Monica and I will be sure to stop by soon,” Mr. Heller promised her. He looked over at his wife, who gave him a slight nod. “In fact, since we’re moving to Oceanside, we may stop by sooner than you think,” he added with a twinkle in his eye.

Vanessa, eyes wide with shock, looked at William, who had paled a couple of shades.

“So, you’ve decided, then?” William finally managed to ask.

“L.A. is just no longer for us,” Mrs. Heller said. “And I’ve wanted to live closer to the beach for a long time. Right now, we can sell our place in L.A. and have enough to buy a new place here in Oceanside and be within walking distance of the beach.”

“That is so great,” William drawled. He looked across the table at Vanessa. “Is that great, honey?”

“So great,” Vanessa said with forced cheeriness, staring back at him.

After dinner, while William’s parents were enjoying some more wine out on his balcony, and she and William were loading his dishwasher in the kitchen, Vanessa said, “After this dinner, we need to break up.”

“What? Why?”

“Why? It’s one thing playacting when your folks live up in L.A. and only drive down every few months; quite another when they’re going to be living down the street! I don’t have time for this anymore, sweetie. I have a business to run! It’s bad enough I can’t even have more than a sexual relationship with someone like Megan.”

Forgetting about the dishes, William leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Speaking of which, how’s that going?” he asked, switching into gossip mode.

“Good, so far. She’s cool. We have an understanding.”

“Is she good in bed?

“Remarkably so,” Vanessa confessed. “And…I like her, William. Like, beyond sex. I feel this connection with her which I’m not sure I’ve ever actually felt before. It’s a good thing she’s moving to New York otherwise I might be in real trouble.”

William pouted.

“But that’s a shame,” he whined. “If you two get along well you should have a chance at making a go at it.”

“William, I’m barely holding onto things as it is,” Vanessa stated. “La Vida Mocha is bleeding money because of this fucking pandemic.” She refilled her wine glass from the bottle of white that was on the counter. “I’ve got a billion things to stress about each day, the last thing I need is a girlfriend who’s expecting me to leave little love notes for her on the refrigerator or wondering why I seem so emotionally distant all the time.”

She took a long sip of wine.

“No, things with Megan are perfect the way they are. I see her, we fuck. At least I don’t have to add sexual frustration to my list of problems. For now, anyway.” She pointed at William with her wine glass. “Besides, just because her and I have great sex and I maybe feel a connection doesn’t mean we’d be good as a couple.”

But as soon as she said that, Vanessa realized that she didn’t actually didn’t believe it.

She had had plenty of flings before. Virtually all of them were with women Vanessa knew she couldn’t possibly develop a romantic interest in. But wasn’t that the purpose of flings? To have a bit of meaningless fun with a woman who wasn’t your type?

The problem was, Megan was her type, Vanessa had known that since she first laid eyes on her and she had felt a boom in her heart. And even though they had only spent a short time together, Vanessa also knew that if she and Megan did have a chance, they’d be fantastic as a couple.

She noticed William giving her that look; the one he gave her when he knew she was bullshitting. Damn him for knowing her so well.

“Looks like someone is kidding herself,” Will

iam said in a singsong voice.

Vanessa sighed.

“Okay, fine; we probably would be good as a couple, but Megan certainly isn’t going to give up a big-time job promotion, and I’m certainly not moving to New York.”