Page 33 of Checking Mr. Wrong (Love in Maple Falls #3)

MABEL

Halloween night—the one time of year when people actively try to scare children and get praised for it.

The night of sugar highs, plastic fangs, and adults using “costume” as an excuse for chaos.

And me? I’ve been put on strict front-door duty.

No roaming, no sneaking candy (yeah, right), and definitely no abandoning my post.

Mom says it’s because I’m “good with kids.” I say it’s because she doesn’t trust Murray not to give out her private stash of imported chocolate. Either way, I’m here. Holding the line. Bracing for the night to get weird.

The doorbell rings just as I’m wrestling the candy bowl away from my mother’s clutches.

“For heaven’s sake, Mabel,” Mom says, narrowing her eyes at me like I’m committing some kind of Halloween felony. “You can’t give out the Twizzlers first. You save those for the kids who show up late. They’re practically begging for leftovers at that point.”

I smirk and pluck a miniature Snickers from the top of the pile. “Mom, if you’re going to micromanage the candy distribution, you’re welcome to take over. ”

“I’m supervising,” she replies, waving a hand at the bowl like she’s directing traffic.

From the kitchen, Murray laughs, the sound deep and warm.

He’s sitting at the table, where he’s been pretending to help by unwrapping a Reese’s cup every now and then and popping it into his mouth.

“Leave her alone, Mary-Ellen. The kids are here for the sugar, not to be told how they have to eat it.”

I carry the bowl to the door, still chuckling at their bickering. Outside, the porch light casts a warm yellow glow, catching on the cobweb decorations Murray strung up earlier in the day. I make a mental note to remind him they’re fake when I see him flinch at one later.

The doorbell rings again, more insistently this time, and I twist the knob.

“Trick or treat!”

I fling open the door and am immediately faced with two pint-sized vampires and what might be the cutest little pumpkin I’ve ever seen. Their faces light up as I hold out the bowl of candy.

“One each, guys. No hoarding the chocolate,” I say, grinning as they dive in with tiny hands.

Their chaperone, a cheerful woman in a witch’s hat, waves at me from the edge of the porch. She snaps a picture of the children before looking at me and cocking her head to one side.

“Wait a second, I know you!” she says, stepping closer as the kids rummage through the candy. Her eyes widen, and I brace myself. “You’re the girl from that video!”

It’s not like I don’t know which video she means. Fantastic. But tonight? I laugh. Really laugh. “Yep, that’s me.”

She claps her hands, clearly thrilled. “You were hilarious! I loved that you didn’t take any crap from that guy. What a jerk. I can’t stand a cheater.”

“It was a giant mistake on his part.” I turn to find my mother standing beside me, holding her shoulders high. “He’s lucky she didn’t do worse, I’m telling you. ”

“Right?” the woman agrees, nodding along with my mother. I’m left standing here with my head rocking between the two of them, wondering who took over my mother’s body.

“Thanks,” I say, nudging my mother with my elbow as she grins and nudges me back. Maybe it’s the Halloween spirit. Or the candy. Probably the candy.

The little crew waves goodbye and I’m just about to close the door when the doorbell rings again. I pull it open, braced for another gaggle of trick-or-treaters, but instead, I’m greeted by…Fred Astaire?

Well, okay, not Fred Astaire . But the man on my porch is certainly dressed for the part, and boy does he look good: a black tuxedo, polished shoes, and a top hat, too. Asher stands there, looking like he’s about to burst into a tap routine.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, the laughter bubbling out of me before I can stop it.

He gives me a roguish grin as he does a shuffle. “I’m looking for my Ginger Rogers.”

I blink at him. “I don’t even know where to start with that.”

Before he can respond, I hear the familiar voices of my mom and Murray coming from the living room. They step into the hallway, my mom’s face alight with mischief.

“Oh, he’s perfect!” she says, clasping her hands together as if this is the culmination of some great plan. “Asher, you have outdone yourself.”

I narrow my eyes on her. “What’s going on?”

Murray chuckles, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Mary-Ellen has been waiting for this moment all night.”

Cue my confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Mom points toward the staircase, practically vibrating with excitement. “Go upstairs. There’s a dress on your bed.”

“A dress?” I echo, glancing between the three of them. “Why is there a dress on my bed?”

Asher shrugs, looking far too amused. “Maybe it’s for your big dance number. ”

I glare at him, but the curiosity is too much to resist. With one last suspicious glance at my mom, I climb the stairs and open the door to my childhood bedroom.

On the bed lies a stunning vintage-inspired gown—all flowing fabric and delicate beading.

It’s the kind of dress Ginger Rogers would’ve definitely worn while twirling around a ballroom.

I can hear their voices drifting up the stairs. My mom’s excitement. Asher’s teasing laugh. And as much as I want to pretend this is all ridiculous, I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. I guess this version of Ginger Rogers has some shoes to fill.

When I come back downstairs, the room falls silent. My mom clasps her hands together like she’s about to burst with pride. Murray lets out a low whistle, and Asher…well, Asher just stares. For once, the man doesn’t have a witty comeback ready.

“You look incredible,” Mom says, her voice filled with awe.

“Really,” Murray agrees, giving me a warm smile. “It’s like the movies.”

I squint Asher’s way. “I told you, no grand gestures.”

He shrugs and starts to open his mouth, only my mother butts in. “It’s not a grand gesture. It’s Halloween.”

Before I can reply, the doorbell rings again. Mom bustles over to answer it, revealing a lone trick-or-treater. She doesn’t hesitate, grabbing the candy bowl and dumping the entire contents into the kid’s bag.

“We’re closed for the night!” she declares, shutting the door with a flourish and flipping off the porch light. She turns to Murray and grins. “Time for us to make our exit.”

“Wait, what?” I ask, completely baffled. There is no way that woman should have parted with both Twizzlers and Snickers like that. “What is going on?”

Mom gives me a knowing look and pats my hand. “Sometimes it takes a mother meddling to make magic happen.”

Before I can protest, Murray steers her toward the door and winks. She turns back just long enough to wave and say, “Have fun, sweetheart! ”

And then they’re gone, leaving me all alone with Asher.

“What the…what just happened?” I ask, still reeling.

Asher steps closer, his grin softening into something almost shy. “I asked your mom to help me surprise you. I thought we could have a fun evening. Just the two of us.”

I glance around, suddenly noticing the soft glow coming from the kitchen. “What did you do?”

“It’s not what I did, but what Mary-Ellen did.” He holds out his hand. “Come on, let’s check it out together.”

I let him lead me into the kitchen, and my breath catches. No wonder I was on door duty tonight. Our small kitchen table has been removed, and candles flicker along the countertop. Soft music plays in the background, filling the room with warmth. It’s simple, but perfect.

Asher turns to me, holding out his hand again. “Will you dance with me?”

I flush, shaking my head. “I can’t dance. I’m not graceful.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s both reassuring and a little teasing. “Trust me.”

I hesitate, my heart pounding, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he steps closer, his arms circling me gently but firmly. His voice is low, intimate. “Mabel, trust me.”

Something in his tone breaks through my nerves. I nod, letting out a shaky breath as I lean into the overwhelm I’m feeling. “Okay.”

He begins to move, guiding me effortlessly across the small kitchen space. It’s like he knows exactly how to hold me, how to make me feel like I’m floating instead of stumbling. The warmth of his hands seeps through the fabric of my dress, grounding me even as the rest of me feels as light as air.

Being this close to him is intoxicating. His chest is solid, the kind of strength that feels both protective and thrilling. My hands rest on his shoulders, and I can’t help but notice how perfectly we fit together. Every movement is smooth, deliberate, like we’ve done this a hundred times before .

“I’m not graceful or good at this kind of thing,” I say. “Not all of us are trained dancers.”

His breath brushes against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. “Stop. You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice like a caress. “Quite the natural.”

My cheeks burn, but I don’t pull away. If anything, I lean in closer, letting the scent of him—clean, woodsy, unmistakably him —fill my senses. His lips are near my ear now, his words low and deliberate.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, and the way he says it makes my stomach flip. “You always are. But tonight? You take my breath away.”

The words unravel something in me, and before I can second-guess myself, I tilt my face up to his. He doesn’t hesitate. His lips find mine, soft and searching, and my world tilts.

The kiss deepens, and the air feels heavy, electric.

His hand slides up my back, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines that make my skin tingle.

He pulls me closer, and I lose myself in the feel of him.

I’m weak when confronted with the strength of his arms, the faint taste of sweetness on his lips, and the rasp of his stubble against my skin.

When he pulls back just slightly, his forehead rests against mine. “I need you to know how glad I am that I met you.”

I blink up at him, dazed. “I thought you’d be secretly thrilled to get rid of me?”

His lips quirk into a bittersweet smile, but his eyes remain serious. “Now that I know there’s a you out there in the world who’s meant for me…I don’t know how I’m supposed to forget you.”

The music swirls around us, a haunting melody that seems to echo the ache building in my chest. He kisses me again, slow and deep, as if he’s imprinting this, us , on his soul.

I want to hold on, to let myself believe this could work, but the weight of reality presses down on me. I pull back just enough to meet his gaze. “Asher, I…” My voice cracks, and I try again. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“I get it.” His grip on me tightens briefly, then loosens as if he’s letting go. “I know you’re still leaving, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish you’d stay.”

I want to scream, SAME!! I want to say it out loud, to tell him that I’m terrified of leaving, of walking away from this—the sweetness of his smile, the safety of his arms, the way my name sounds when he says it like I’m his favorite story.

But how do we know? How do we ever know when we roll the dice if it’s going to work out?

Then there is coming home again. I mean, Maple Falls is home, but not the version I left behind.

This is something new, something I didn’t expect.

It feels like the warmth of a crackling fire after coming in from the cold, like Christmas morning when the world is quiet and magical.

It’s laughter around the table at Thanksgiving, where the jokes are bad but the love is good.

But now, it’s also Asher. It’s the land of all the sexy kisses, where my heart races and my knees go weak. It’s teasing grins and stolen glances, long hikes and quiet conversations. It’s comfort and thrill and all the things I didn’t even realize I’d been missing.

It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

And yet, it’s not New York. It’s not my job, my life, the thing I’ve worked so hard to build. But is it still my dream? Or has that dream shifted, reshaped itself into something softer, something more?

“I mean it, Mabel,” he repeats, his voice quieter this time but no less earnest. “I wish you’d stay.”

The pain in his voice is a knife to my chest, sharp and unforgiving. I press my palm to his cheek, my thumb brushing against the stubble there. I want to bottle this moment, to hold on to the way he’s looking at me, like I’m his whole world.

“You’re making it harder and harder to leave, you know,” I say, forcing a small, shaky smile .

“Good.” His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, the touch gentle but reassuring. “At least I’ll know I did something right.”

The music fades into the background, leaving only the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. For a second, it feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for me to decide which way my life is going to go.

And for the first time in forever, I’m not sure I want to leave. But staying feels just as impossible.

The ache in my chest deepens as I pull away, stepping out of the circle of his arms. The distance between us feels unbearable, but I know it’s nothing compared to what’s coming.

I glance back at him one last time, and his eyes hold a quiet kind of heartbreak that I know mirrors my own.

If I stay, I could lose everything I’ve worked for.

If I go, I could lose him.

I don’t know which scares me more.