Page 2 of Double Take (Cosmic Mates #5)

Spinning on the potter’s wheel, the mud felt smooth and slick as Faith funneled the clay into the tall vase she’d envisioned, humming as she worked. She found working with clay relaxing, almost meditative. Worries and concerns melted away as a lump of wet mud transformed into an object of beauty.

Sometimes she had something specific in mind, but she preferred to let the magic of inspiration guide her hands. Not all of her inspired pottery pieces sold, but she loved them the best. Her husband had mocked those the most. However, her favorite, unique creation had garnered a pretty penny from an anonymous buyer on the HyperSphere. Sometimes she regretted letting it go, but that single sale had paid a good portion of the bills she’d been saddled with after Mark’s death. Still, making ends meet hadn’t been easy.

Hopefully finances and life would improve.

Soon. Soon.

For years, she’d sensed something momentous awaited her on the horizon, and with the move to Terra Nova, the anticipation had grown, like she would finally meet her destiny. Practical-minded, she didn’t grant that feeling serious credence, but she couldn’t completely discount it, since it never went away.

Maybe I’ll become famous. Maybe my pottery will become an interplanetary sensation. Maybe the love of my life is going to walk through that door.

The odds of the latter were slim. She had a better chance of becoming famous. Once, she’d believed the man she’d married had been her soul mate, but that hadn’t turned out to be the case. Her rational mind told her she wouldn’t meet him here, either.

The village of Willow Wood on planet Terra Nova was not the place to meet marriage-minded bachelors. The Earth settlement drew couples and families. Very few people came here alone. She hadn’t. Her friend Amity had accompanied her.

Besides, once bitten, twice shy. She wasn’t quite ready to get involved with a man. She had enough to handle without adding a relationship to the mix.

Relocating to another planet had been a scary decision, but that intuitive inner wisdom that said something big would happen in her life had encouraged the leap. She had to admit that the agrarian, slow-paced lifestyle of Willow Wood suited her much more than the frenetic, overpopulated, congested Earth where one city of high-rises merged into the next, forming an endless metropolis. Even the national parks, which promised green space and serenity, couldn’t deliver. So many people crowded into the parks that they’d become as populated as the cities.

She needed space to relax and create. Meet my destiny.

Hello, Terra Nova.

Through the window, she spied Amity hurrying toward the shop. It had been her friend’s idea to place the pottery wheel by the window so people could see her work and be drawn inside. Faith created; her longtime friend provided the business brain. Amity’s suggestion seemed to be working because sales at All Fired Up boomed. They had sold more crockery in the two months in Willow Wood than they had in the previous year on Earth. Of course, the Terra Novan culture probably factored in, too. People valued pottery because they used it in their everyday life.

“Hey,” Amity greeted her as she entered the shop.

“Hey.” She looked up, expecting a smile, but her best friend’s forehead crinkled into a worried frown. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something.” Amity bit her lip. “You may not like it. You might hate me.”

“I doubt that,” she replied. Amity was the older sister she’d never had, a port in the storm. Her friend had stood by her through thick and thin, lending a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Amity had insisted on accompanying her to Terra Nova, even though she loved big-city hustle and bustle. If she could sometimes be overzealous in her caring and concern, well, Faith forgave her. Wasn’t that what “big sisters” were like?

Amity scrunched up her face. “I, uh, submitted applications to Cosmic Mates.”

“The interplanetary matchmaking service?” She’d heard about the service that matched Earth women with aliens. Cosmic Mates was quite the talk! “I think that’s great! You deserve to meet your Mr. Right.”

“It’s not that—”

“If you’re worried about leaving me alone here, don’t be. Focus on you.” Marrying an alien might require moving to his planet, in which case, Faith would have to buy Amity out of the business. However, they’d cross that bridge if they came to it.

In her early forties, Amity was a decade older than Faith and had never been married—but not for lack of trying. Her friend had done everything she could to put herself out there, but after a person reached a certain age, the eligible pool of available, decent men shrank to a puddle. And that was on Earth.

Honestly, Cosmic Mates probably offered the best shot at meeting a man. Neither of them would meet one on Terra Nova. Faith felt guilty at how much Amity had sacrificed by accompanying her there. So, she was glad she’d signed up with Cosmic Mates.

She tilted her head, studying the spinning vase. The neck needs to be a little higher. She smoothed her hands upward. “Wait a minute—what do you mean you submitted applications? ”

“I put in one for you, too.” Amity said.

The vase collapsed.

No, no, no. Her inner voice and practical sensibilities were in complete agreement. “Absolutely not.” She grabbed a damp rag and wiped her hands. How could Amity have done such a thing without consulting her?

“You were open to it a second ago.”

“When I thought it was for you!”

“You got a hit. An alien man is interested in meeting you.”

“No.”

“Why is it okay for me and not for you?”

“Because it’s my decision to make, not yours. And because I’m not interested in getting married right now. You are.”

“It’s been five years since he died.”

“So?”

“Everyone grieves differently, but you’re too young to give up, to never fall in love again, to never be happy again.”

“I haven’t given up.” She never shared the reality of her marriage. Unpredictable. Mental. Demoralizing. His mind games had been subtle at first, and on his frequent “business trips,” she’d convinced herself she’d imagined everything. Soon, she discovered the loving, dependable, supportive husband had hidden a mean streak. Nothing physical, but in many ways his psychological campaign to break down her self-worth had been worse, because it gave her no proof. He’d been a master at gaslighting. In public, he played the role of the loving husband too well.

When he’d died, she’d cried tears of relief, not grief. But she’d never shared the truth of her marriage with her best friend. Pride, she supposed. Shame at having tolerated his mistreatment.

“I’m happy!” She waved clay-streaked hands. “I love living on Terra Nova, I love making pottery, I love you— even though you sometimes interfere . Life is good.”

“It could be a better life.”

“No.” She stood up. Although she’d regained her self-esteem, she remained cautious, doubtful about her ability to judge character. How could she have been so wrong about Mark? Had love blinded her to red flags, or had he just been that skilled at subterfuge?

“You’re not curious? You won’t take a look? He’s cute for an alien.”

Look. Kick the tires. No commitment. Relationships always started out innocuously, didn’t they? A chance encounter at a coffee counter. A little flirty banter. A no-expectations drink after work. And then you woke up married to a psychological bully.

“No. I assume he’s waiting for an answer—tell him I’m not interested. Explain an overzealous friend overstepped.”

“All right. I’ll decline on your behalf.”

“And delete my profile.”

“Okay.” Amity’s shoulders slumped dejectedly.

“I’m not ready to meet somebody. I need to wait a while longer,” she said.

“Wait for what?”

At first, she’d assumed it was Mark she’d been waiting for until she married him. Amity waited now—for an answer. Faith shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

Soon. Soon.

“Maybe it’s a Cosmic Mates match you’ve been waiting for,” Amity suggested.

Her friend acted like a bulldog with the whole Cosmic Mates thing. “If you’re so keen on the program, why don’t you sign up?”

“Actually, I did, but you’re the one who got a hit.”

“I hope it works out for you, but it’s not for me. Moving to Terra Nova is all the risk I can handle right now.” While her creative, artistic side manifested through her pottery, she preferred life overall to be predictable, conventional, conservative, traditional. Her parents, both passed away now, had been flamboyant dreamers, volatile personalities who flitted from one wild, ill-considered venture to another. Her childhood had been chaotic, itinerant. She’d attended eleven schools in twelve years. There’d been hugs and kisses and laughter at home, but also shouts, tears, and flying objects, and moods that turned on a dime.

Accountants had a rep for being steady, dependable. Mark had seemed to be all that as well as warm and amusing. Normal. Exactly the kind of man one could build a stable life with.

And then he’d revealed his true character.

Among friends, he’d maintained the facade, his personality affable, his behavior doting. A good guy. A nice guy. People liked him. “You’re so lucky to have married such a great catch,” people used to say.

In private, he’d chipped away at her confidence through criticism masked as humor, smirks hidden behind smiles, pseudo “concern” crafted to exacerbate her self-doubt. When she created a commercial piece, she heard, “That vase is nice, but it’s not quite up to your usual artistic standard, is it?” An avant-garde piece would elicit, “I admire your courage to follow your creative passion and ignore marketability.” Or, said with a grin , “No one can accuse you of being crassly commercial.”

He’d lobbed digs behind Amity’s back. “She’s such a sweetheart, but is she really the best business manager?”

When she called out the behavior, he’d flipped it back on her. “What are you upset about? I’m trying to help you.” Classic gaslighting.

When she accepted the problem wasn’t her, it was him —she’d married a narcissist—she’d sought to extricate herself. She’d consulted with an attorney about dissolving the marriage. The next day, the lawyer contacted her and said he wouldn’t be able to take her case after all. Attorney number two was also overbooked. Same with the third. This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? They couldn’t all be too busy. Dread and doom had seeped into her bones. Could her husband have put the kibosh on the divorce? What kind of power did he have that he could scare off a lawyer?

At that point, she decided to find out who the hell she’d married. The first shocking discovery was that he didn’t work at the accountancy firm. Never had. Next, she checked with some of the hotels where he’d supposedly stayed during his out-of-town business trips, but they had no record of his visits. She’d planned to hire a professional investigator to dig deeper when Mark died.

“I’m sorry. I overstepped. I’d had a little wine, and I signed us both up. Can you forgive me?” Amity looked so contrite, Faith forgave her. How could she not? Her intentions had been good, and her best friend had always been there for her.

She wished she’d been able to confide in her the true state of her marriage. But she’d been too embarrassed. And what if Amity didn’t believe her? She had no proof except Mark hadn’t worked where he’d said he did. Maybe he’d lost his job and been too humiliated to tell her. But if that were true, where had their money come from? They always had money and, as he had jokingly pointed out, it wasn’t because her pottery earned big bucks.

“Of course I forgive you.” Faith wiped her hands and hugged her. “Just don’t do anything like that again.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Amity crossed her heart.

“I’m not ready to date again, let alone marry—and certainly not to a stranger,” Faith said.