CHAPTER SIX
The next morning, Brody sat on his porch sipping coffee, listening to the birds, enjoying the lake view, and thinking about last night.
During his years of traveling, he’d met tons of people. In every new town, he made an effort to connect with the locals. He considered dinner with Alex and her posse to be part of the job.
Lifelong friends were a tough group to infiltrate, so he hadn’t tried. He stayed mostly quiet, studying them, looking for an angle for his story.
Nick had undersold the closeness of Alex’s team. The ease of conversation, the constant teasing, and the obvious love and affection they had for each other made him feel as if he’d been dropped into an episode of Friends.
Brody hadn’t expected to like them so much or to have such a good time. The women were smart, funny, and ambitious, and defied most small-town stereotypes. Nick was easygoing and interesting to talk to.
His quiet reflection was abruptly and rudely interrupted by the sounds of sawing and hammering. So much for his peaceful time in the woods. And too bad he’d have to factor it into his assessment.
Inside, he dumped the last few sips of coffee down the sink and put on his shoes. Might as well check out the camp.
He had a general idea of the camp’s layout. It was like half of an octopus butted up against the lake.
Multiple roads fanned off from the main parking lot, with signs indicating there were three cabins per road.
The boathouse, lake access, and a long dock were a short walk from the lot.
And walking trails on the opposite side led to the office and, apparently, a new recreation center.
He’d overheard Alex talking about it at dinner last night.
Following the construction noise, he found the new rec cabin. It was so new, the scent of fresh pine overwhelmed him as he entered. A beautiful stone fireplace commanded attention at the far end of the room. Men were building bookcases and looked to be about halfway done.
“Sorry about the racket,” Alex said, approaching from behind. “They should be finished soon.”
“Geez,” he said, hoping he hadn’t jumped in surprise. “Sneak up much?”
“I didn’t sneak. The hammering’s just so loud you didn’t hear me,” she said. “With The Grocer on the loose, you’d better be more aware of your surroundings.”
“Any updates on that? Without internet, I can’t get any news.”
“He’s still at large, and possibly in the general vicinity, so be careful,” she said. “Look, I didn’t get a chance last night, but I meant to apologize for the…” She waved a hand around at nothing. “You know? Mix-up yesterday.”
“You mean when you broke into my cabin and called the police because you thought I was a murderer?” Brody raised an eyebrow.
“Yes.” She glared. “That’s what I mean. We don’t need to rehash it to death.”
“If that’s your best, you’re not very good at apologies. Sure you’re not just groveling because you found out why I’m here?”
“Ugh,” she huffed. “Forget it.”
He laughed, not sure why he was antagonizing her. He found it intriguing that even though she knew his review of her business could make or break her, she wouldn’t—or couldn’t—suck up to him.
He spent the rest of the day exploring Green Valley Falls, stopping frequently for photo opportunities.
When something especially beautiful or interesting caught his attention, he’d park and jot down a rough paragraph describing it.
Just a few key words he would expand upon later in his writing process.
It had only been twenty-four hours, but between staying off the internet and all the nature, he felt himself relaxing.
He decided that when he returned from New York, he would really lean into the no-phone rule, and fully embrace the whole unplugging concept.
That was the only way to do the article justice.
The following afternoon, he packed an overnight bag and headed out for his life-altering trip. Driving through the parking lot, he caught Alex chasing after a duck—probably her new friend Daisy—and couldn’t help but smile. He slowed and opened the window.
“I’m off,” he said. “Be back late tomorrow. I left most of my things here, but nothing interesting, so stay out.”
“Ha. Ha.” She rolled her eyes. “Travel safe.”
To throw Chloe off, he’d texted a “Happy Anniversary” message, lamenting that they wouldn’t be together. She’d responded in kind, and he hadn’t heard from her since. He drove to Portsmouth and boarded the plane to NYC. Destiny awaited.
For the last few days, he’d tried to keep his mind on his work, but kept envisioning how things would go down on this trip. Now that he’d committed to proposing, the ring was burning a hole in his pocket.
By eight o’clock that night, he was headed up the elevator to their apartment. Technically, it was Chloe’s place, but since he had no home base other than his mother’s, this was where he considered home.
He turned the key quietly and slipped in. From the doorway, he could see she wasn’t in the living room or kitchen. Sometimes she worked late, but her purse and keys sat on the entryway table, so he knew she was here. Probably in the bathtub. She loved long, hot soaks.
He dropped his bag and made his way down the hall. Approaching the bedroom, he heard noises that caused the brutal and decisive massacre of the butterflies in his stomach.
Two voices—one distinctly masculine—coming from inside. Laughter, flirty talk of undressing, declarations of anticipation. Chloe wasn’t alone. And obviously not the slightest bit bereft over being apart on their anniversary.
Brody stood in the hallway and listened as his life plans drifted away. Shock, disbelief, hurt, and anger came in quick succession. How could she?
Before he lost his nerve, he cleared his throat forcefully and knocked twice before pushing open the door.
As surprised as he was to find Chloe cheating. He was flabbergasted at who she was cheating with.
“Nathaniel?” Brody blurted, watching a guilty, chagrined expression spread over his boss’s face.
“Brody,” Chloe cried, jumping away from Nathaniel. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d surprise my girlfriend on our anniversary.” He glanced between the two. “Guess I’m the one surprised.”
“Look,” Nathaniel started, coming toward him. “I’m—”
“Don’t,” Brody snapped. Nathaniel froze in place and shut his mouth. “How long?”
Chloe hung her head for a second but finally answered. “You travel so much, and you know I hate being alone.”
Brody’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Excuses and blaming me right out of the gate? Bold move, Clo. But I don’t think so. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you met me. What’s going on?”
“You’re right,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s just that everything’s going to change, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
“What’s changing? What are you talking about?”
Chloe and Nathaniel shared a look. A look that resurrected the butterflies Brody had thought dead forever. Her comments from the other day popped into his mind.
“Is this about my job?” he asked.
Another long stare before Nathaniel shrugged. “Might as well rip off the Band-Aid. We have to let you go, Brody. New Hampshire is your last assignment for Wanderlust.”
Shocked into silence, it took Brody a moment to process everything.
“I tried to warn you,” Chloe said softly, as if that would make the pill go down easier.
“I’m real sorry, Brody,” Nathaniel said, not clarifying whether he meant for firing him or for sleeping with his girlfriend. Or both. Either way, it was insufficient and insincere.
Brody held up a hand. “Just so I’m clear. I came here to propose, and rather than leave with a fiancée, I’m being fired and dumped, which by default also makes me homeless. So, losing everything? Cool. Cool, cool.”
He backed out of the room, head still spinning.
“Wait,” Chloe said. “We should talk about it.”
“Hmm. Hard pass.” Brody strode down the hall and out the door, pausing only a second to grab his bag. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs and stormed through the lobby.
He didn’t take a full breath until he was back on the curb. And just his luck, trash pickup was the next day. When he inhaled, the putrid smell of garbage was so strong he could taste it.
He started down the street. To where, he didn’t yet know. Just knew staying anywhere near here was not an option.
Several blocks later, raindrops added to his cacophony of misfortunes. He ducked into a small diner and slid into an empty booth. When a waitress asked what he wanted, he huffed out a laugh.
“Any chance ‘rewinding my life a day, to when I was blissfully ignorant of my impending fate’ is on the menu?”
The waitress shrugged. “We got ice cream.”
“Just coffee. Please,” he said.
Over a hot cup of weak java, he mulled over his situation.
Short term, he still had lodging in Green Valley Falls for a few days.
He’d fly back tomorrow as planned, finish his story, and go from there.
If he didn’t figure out his next move by the time he had to check out, maybe he’d ask to extend his stay.
Longer term, he’d need to find a new job and a new home, and eventually, move on from his latest disaster of a relationship. He’d also have to tell his mom, who depended on him for financial support.
News of his firing would devastate her, but he wasn’t sure how she’d take the being dumped thing. She’d never really warmed to Chloe.
He decided to postpone telling his mom. No sense in worrying her yet. First, he’d cook up a plan. Then, when he told her, he could frame it as a “career change.” That sounded better than, “I got fired and am scrambling to find another job.”
Chloe had mentioned writing a book. That might not be a bad idea. He could try freelance work. Or even do his own online thing. Maybe a weekly vlog or podcast. Wasn’t that all the rage nowadays? His name familiarity had to be worth something to somebody.
Wanderlust must really be on the rocks to have to let him go. Then again, Brody did have the largest salary of all the journalists. They could easily line up a hundred people willing to do his job for half the price.
Details would come out later, but in the meantime, his “brand” apparently wasn’t as hot as he thought. The real question was, was it hot enough for Brody to make it on his own?
After finishing his coffee, he left a twenty-dollar bill under the cup and started toward the door, only to jog back and quickly exchange it for a ten.
Until he found another income source, the days of extreme tipping were over. Sure, he had a pile of savings, but for now, frugality would be prudent.
It had stopped raining, and he roamed aimlessly, looking for a hotel.
Which was easy to find in downtown Manhattan.
He paid the walk-in rate for the smallest room and proceeded to a tiny, off-white rectangle on the second floor.
His window overlooked the back alley. Huh. Perhaps he had become a scooch spoiled.
While he prided himself on being willing to go anywhere and stay in any place, it had been years since he’d been assigned anything other than the top-of-the-line, high-end stuff. Ocean or skyline views, depending on the city, and always grand state rooms or suites with full concierge service.
It dawned on him that all his lamenting was over his career and not his relationship with Chloe. What did that mean? Was it possible he loved her simply because she was literally one of the few people he knew very well? Were his feelings based more on semantics than a real, deep connection?
He thought about calling someone, but when he picked up his phone to do so, realized he didn’t have any friends. At least, none good enough to call in a crisis.
All of his relationships were situational.
He’d make a friend in some country, on some trip, but the minute he left, the budding relationship, without nourishment, would wilt and eventually die.
A hazard of not staying in one place very long.
At thirty-five years old, he had a million acquaintances, but no actual friends.
“That’s a real kick in the junk,” he muttered. “Please let this be bottom.”
The next morning, he got up early, stopped by a pawnshop to hock the ring, and caught a cab to the airport.
He’d just settled into his seat when a tall, hulking man wearing an NYPD T-shirt sat in the seat in front of him.
Brody fought to keep his mouth shut when the man turned to the pretty woman beside him and introduced himself as Drake Humphries. Same name. NYPD. Was this Alex’s boyfriend?
At dinner the other night, Alex had said he was coming to visit this weekend. And there were only so many flights from NYC to Portsmouth. It had to be him.
Suddenly invested, Brody strained to listen in. Which wasn’t hard, because neither Drake nor the woman was subtle or quiet. Brody went from curious to angry as Drake flirted with his seatmate the entire trip, never once mentioning he had a girlfriend.
In fact, when the woman asked why he was going to New Hampshire, he’d answered, “to hang out with an old buddy.” If this was Alex’s Drake, Brody didn’t think “old buddy” was a description she’d appreciate.
And if that weren’t bad enough, Drake initiated the exchange of phone numbers as they were deplaning! His flirting could have had something to do with the fact that, in the ninety-minute flight, he’d downed no less than four cocktails, growing more obnoxious with each one.
Brody noticed him stagger a little when it was his turn to head out. Luckily, he also saw him heading toward the taxi line at baggage claim. At least he wouldn’t have to share the road with him.
As he passed under the Whispering Pines welcome sign, he felt the trees take some of his burden. Yes, this would be the perfect place to lick his wounds and come up with a new life plan.