Page 27 of Checking Mr. Wrong (Love in Maple Falls #3)

MABEL

I’m staring at my laptop, the blinking cursor mocking me as I try to make sense of the swirling chaos in my brain. It’s not like me to sit idle, especially with a deadline breathing down my neck, but for once, I can’t focus. My thoughts keep veering off course, straight to Asher.

Asher. The man with the crooked smile and the unflappable confidence, the one who’s been barging into my life and turning my world upside down.

The one who makes me laugh when I’m determined to stay grumpy, who listens when I’m ranting about nothing and everything.

The one whose kisses taste like the sweetest escape from…

Oh, no. No, no, no.

I push back from the kitchen table, nearly toppling my coffee mug in the process.

When did this happen? When did he stop being just a subject for a story and start becoming more?

I thought I was immune to this kind of thing.

My job—my life—has always been about staying detached, staying objective. But now? I’m a walking cliché.

My phone buzzes, jolting me out of my spiraling thoughts. I glance at the screen and see Frank’s name. Great. Just what I need right now. I pick up, trying to sound more together than I feel.

“Hey, Frank,” I say, forcing cheer into my voice.

“Mabel, that quote you turned in from Carson Crane and the way this piece is coming together? Fantastic work. Really, top-notch stuff.” This man is never one to mince words. His voice is warm and encouraging, the kind of tone that makes me feel proud.

“Thanks,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “I still have a couple more parts to wrap up.”

“No rush,” he replies. “I liked the quotes you grabbed from the goalie, Clément, too. Très bien . But, you know, if you can aim to get this done by the end of the week, that’d be great. You’re close.”

“I’m speaking with the Ice Breakers player assimilation liaison, Bailey, today to get another point of view and I was thinking of interviewing their social media manager as well. What do you think?”

“Well rounded. I like it.” He pauses and clears his throat. “I also think that your old TV station called us today and asked if you were under contract, that’s what I think.”

Frank’s words slam against my ear. “What?”

“You heard me. They’ve had a shake-up over there. Apparently, your ex has done it again. He got caught with another woman by the producer he was seeing after you two broke up. She’s walked off set, and is refusing to work with him.”

“Karma at its finest.” I let out a slow whistle. “He’s such a turd.”

“He’s being called worse.” Frank chuckles. “Anyway, I’m buddies with their boss and had a drink with him the other night. He brought up your name.”

I hesitate. “They really want me back?”

“They do. Apparently, there was some backlash when you were let go, and they kept it under wraps. A lot of people wrote in, wanting the woman who tossed water all over her cheating partner to come back.”

“They did?”

“Yep. I know you’ve got some ‘children should be seen and not heard’ trauma swirling inside from your small-town beginnings, but Mabel, you’re popular with a lot of viewers because of what happened. It may not have been the most professional move, but you earned some fans, that’s for sure.”

“And that makes them want me back?” Apparently, I’m still in shock.

“That and the fact you’re an outstanding journalist with an amazing work ethic who performs under pressure all the time.” He chuckles, and I can hear the pride in his voice. “This is amazing, Mabel. You deserve it.”

I’m silent, unsure of how to respond. “So what happens now?”

“Well, if you want me to, I’ll call them and let them know you’re interested, but it’s solely up to you.”

Never in a million years would I have thought this was on today’s bingo card.

“May I have a few days to think about it?”

“You got it,” Frank says, not able to hide the surprise in his voice, yet he asks no further questions. “But listen, Mabel. Whatever you decide, make sure it’s what you want. Not what you think you should want, not what someone else wants for you. Make it about you. Got it?”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Got it. Thanks, Frank.”

“Anytime. Now get back to work, superstar. Get that article done!”

We hang up, and I’m left staring at my phone. My head’s still spinning, but Frank’s words linger. My old job. I can have it back. But, do I want it? For so long, the answer has been obvious: career, success, recognition. But now, with Asher in the picture, everything feels so much more complicated.

The sound of the front door opening jolts me out of my thoughts. “Mabel? Are you home?” My mom’s voice rings out, followed by the click of her heels on the hardwood floor.

“In here,” I yell out, setting my phone down.

Mom breezes into the room, all energy and purpose, her hands full of papers and her face lit up with that trademark smile. “Just popping in between meetings. Oh, you’re working. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not. My mom’s definition of “quick” usually involves a detailed rundown of every social committee event within a fifty-mile radius.

“Fine is usually reserved for moments when you’re trying to gloss over some details,” she says, dropping the papers on the counter. “Is that what you’re doing?”

I force a smile. “You know me too well.”

She studies me, her eyes narrowing. “Are you busy or avoiding something?”

I clear my throat and shift in my seat at the kitchen table, the old wood creaking beneath me. “I think I’ve been offered a job.”

My mother perks up like a bird spotting a worm. “That’s good, right?”

“Yes,” I say cautiously, dragging the word out like a long piece of taffy. “I’d be back on TV, reporting again.”

“That’s great, it’s what you wanted. I mean, even though the last time didn’t turn out so well.” Her smile tightens into something almost unreadable, a blend of pride and expectation. “So, what’s the hesitation?”

I glance down at my hands, fingers knotting together. “Did you need to add that part in?”

“What part?” Her tone is sharp, not unkind, but edged like a freshly honed knife.

“How it didn’t go well for me last time. I am all too aware that my actions embarrassed you that day.” I exhale slowly. “But as far as this job? I don’t know if it’s the right thing for me. I feel lost, Mom. Like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“Lost?” Her eyebrows pull together. “Mabel, you’re a grown woman. By now, you should have some sense of what you want out of life. When I was your age, I knew exactly what I wanted. I had direction.”

I feel my chest tighten, heat creeping up my neck. “Yeah, well, I’m not you,” I snap, the words firing out before I can stop them. “I’m me. And maybe that’s the problem. You keep expecting me to be like you.”

Mom straightens, her lips thinning. “I don’t expect you to be like me. But I do expect you to take some responsibility and figure things out. You’re not a teenager anymore.”

“Sometimes it feels like you still think I’m fifteen.

” I stand up, pacing the length of the kitchen.

“Sometimes I think you’ve spent more time with the rest of Maple Falls than with your own daughter.

Every committee, every bake sale, every town hall meeting.

..how much time have you actually clocked with me, us, one-on-one? ”

She’s stunned silent, but it doesn’t last long.

“That’s not fair. I worked hard to make this community better for you and everyone who lives here.

Look at the tragedy that’s happening now with this MacDonald heir and all of its chaos.

Maybe if you’d gotten involved in some of those things, you wouldn’t feel so ‘lost’ now. ”

“First of all, how do you know I’m not helping? Because I’m not advertising it by joining every social group I can, like you?” I stop pacing and turn to face her. “Secondly, what you’re saying is that I should have spent more time shadowing you and less time trying to be my own person?”

Her mouth opens, then closes, and for a second, she looks unsure. But then her resolve hardens. “That’s not what I meant. But maybe if you had a little more structure...”

“Structure?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Do you hear yourself? You talk about structure like it’s a cure-all. Newsflash, Mom: not everyone’s life fits neatly into little boxes.”

She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “This is going nowhere. ”

“You’re right. It’s not.” I slump back into my chair, putting my head in my hands. The kitchen is too quiet, the hum of the fridge is suddenly louder than ever. “This is all too much, Mom. It’s more than I can handle.”

Her gaze softens slightly, but her next words cut just the same. “Then maybe it’s time you made a decision. You can’t keep floating through life like this, Mabel. At some point, you have to pick a direction and stick to it.”

I look up at her, eyes stinging. “This isn’t just about me being lost or the job. It’s also about everything we’ve never said to each other.” I point to her, then back to myself. “Us. Me and you.”

“Oh.” Mom’s face flickers with something unreadable before she glances at her watch. “Uh-oh, sweetie. I’m sorry, but I need to leave. There’s a town hall meeting that starts in ten minutes.”

My jaw drops. “Are you serious? We’re finally talking, and you’re leaving?”

“I said I’m sorry, Mabel, but this is important.” She stands, smoothing out her skirt. “We can continue this later.”

I stare at her, my chest tight with frustration and hurt. “Sure. Later. Because that’s always worked so well before.”

Without another word, she grabs her bag and walks out, leaving me alone in the echoing silence of the kitchen.