Typist #4 - Every Romance is a Revenge Fantasy

I stopped running and she slammed into me, both of us toppling to the hallway floor, giggling.

“Okay, you can read it!” I handed the book over. “You don’t need to tackle me.”

“It was addressed to me,” she said.

“I know! See, that’s just such a Smith thing to do. And of course he only sent one copy. What a buttplug.”

“You say he’s a buttplug, and yet you’re smiling. I haven’t seen you light up this way in months.”

We helped each other up off the floor and stood in the hallway, near by bedroom. “It is winter,” I said, glancing through my room to the dark window. “Short days and all.”

“You miss him,” she said. “I know you’ve been waiting for him to call you, or to make some grand gesture, but men aren’t like that. Maybe this is his way of reaching out to you.”

I snorted. “A single galley proof of a novel?”

“You didn’t see the dedication page, did you?”

“Shit.” I grabbed the book from her and leafed back to the opening. I never read that crap at the beginning of books, because who cares about some author thanking a bunch of people I don’t know.

The dedication read:

Thank you Tori, for breaking me.

I handed the book back to my mother. “What the f**k is that?”

“Tori! Watch your mouth.”

“Mom, that’s the worst dedication in the entire history of books. Period. End of story. What a buttplug.” I wagged my finger at her. “Don’t you dare tell anyone that’s me.”

“I’m sure the ladies at book club will figure it out, but I won’t tell anyone else, as long as you agree to something for me.”

“I’ll stop leaving my clothes on the bathroom floor.”

She put one hand on her hip and sighed. “I’m not expecting any miracles. No, the thing I want is for you to go to Switzerland with me for Christmas break.”

“What? Did you win a trip?” I thought about how Smith had arranged for my ex-boyfriend to “win” a trip to Montreal, and I gripped my hands into fists. “Seriously, Mom. Did you win a contest you don’t remember entering?”

“Just say yes. Don’t be so difficult.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But it’s a trap.”

“It’s not a trap,” she said. “Go back downstairs and have a look at the other stuff that came in the box. Smith Wittingham invited us to join him and his family in Switzerland for a vacation.”

I looked at her sideways. “Really?”

She was backing away from me, her eyes down on the open book in her hands.

I left her to her reading and ran downstairs.

Sure enough, there was a packet of information, including brochures about the resort. It was high on a rocky mountain, accessible only by cable car. That reminded me of the cabin in Vermont, accessible only by hiking or on motorbike. What the hell was it about Smith and inconvenient venues? Was he trying to trap me with him again? And if he was, then why invite my mother along?

A very dark thought popped into my head, nearly making me barf.

Was he going to try to seduce my mother?

Okay, Tori, that’s ridiculous, I told myself, and I started to laugh. Still… he was kind of a weird dude.

I started making a mental list of who my mother might bring with her to Switzerland, because there was absolutely no way I was going.

No way.

Two hours later, my mother came into my room, sobbing.

I’d been reclining on a bunch of pillows on my bed, stalking people on Facebook on my tablet. I sat up in alarm. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

She held up the book. “You have to read the end.”

“Yeah, I’ll read it. Just toss it on my nightstand.”

She climbed onto the bed next to me and held the book open in front of me, pointing at one passage.

It read:

Smith Dunham pulled Sheri close to him as the hot air balloon lifted from the—

“Hey!” I said, looking over at my mother and her tear-soaked cheeks. “There wasn’t any hot air balloon in the first draft.”

“Just read,” she said.

Smith Dunham pulled Sheri close to him as the hot air balloon lifted from the ground.

“Soon they’ll release the tether,” he said to her angelic, lightly-freckled face. “Then nothing will hold us down.”

“You say that, but next week you’ll be off on a new case, chasing some other girl. I know I’m nothing more than the flavor of the month to you.”

“I do love your particular flavor, but you’re so much more than that, Sheri,” he said.

She turned away, facing the sunset.

He seized his opportunity and got down on one knee. The tether had been released, and the balloon soared higher and higher.

“Sheri, you broke me,” he said. “Which was exactly what I needed. My whole life has been about reacting, or provoking others when they get too close to me. Deep down, I feared I’d never be good enough to deserve someone’s love. I may never be deserving of your love, Sheri, but I’d sure like to try. I’ll die trying, if I have to.”

With a shaking hand, he took the antique ring from his jacket pocket. Still on bended knee, he took her cream-pale hand in his. “Will you marry me?”

Sheri was speechless, which made Smith worry about her vocal chords, because Sheri had never—

I pushed the book away.

“Barf,” I said to my mother.

“Barf?”

“Ugh, corny endings. I can’t even finish it.”

She frowned at me. “Well, you didn’t read the whole thing. Of course if you just look at the ending, you don’t have the full perspective of everything they went through to get there.”

“I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“You can ask him to explain more about the dedication page when we see him in Switzerland.” She patted my leg and got off my bed.

“Uh…” I willed myself to tell her I wouldn’t be going, but, like Sheri, I was speechless. Dammit if Smith’s corny words hadn’t shaken something loose in that filing cabinet where I kept all my feelings about the man.

“Sure,” I finished.

She set the book on my nightstand. “I don’t know if it’s his best one yet, but it’s good.”

As she left my room, I frowned at my mother’s back. What did she mean it wasn’t his best one yet? Of course it was.

Mürren

Bernese Oberland, Switzerland

Mom and I arrived at the mountain village a few days before Christmas. She was cranky from traveling, which forced me to be in a good mood, because you can’t have two redheads cranky at the same time.

The seats on the plane had been First Class, and the trip itself had been smooth enough, but neither of us were experienced travelers, so navigating the airports was stressful. Words were said, but hugs were given, and the latter paved over the former.