Can't Hurry Love (Sunshine Valley #1) - Melinda Curtis Page 0,7
right.” Lola emptied the bottom drawer of Randy’s sweatshirts. And then it was on to the drawers with Randy’s shorts: cargo (including a pair he’d worn on their honeymoon on the Gulf Coast), basketball (he’d played on the men’s team in Greeley on Thursdays), padded bike shorts (for that spin class he’d attended in Greeley on Monday nights).
Basketball? Spin class? And what about those late nights when he’d claimed to be at Shaw’s with the guys?
Questions, suspicions, and doubts filled Lola’s chest, causing more congestion than rush hour traffic in Times Square, making it hard to breathe. She couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
Randy’s T-shirt drawer was next. Lola had to rise to her knees to empty it. The Playboy T-shirt he’d worn the day they’d met. Denver sports teams. Blue shirts advertising his business—Your Second Husband Handyman Service. A small white plastic bag from Valley Drug Store was stuffed in the back. Inside was a pair of dangly silver earrings that momentarily blinded Lola to infidelity and had her stepping back into the fantasy of a perfect marriage.
“Randy was always buying me little gifts and then forgetting to give them to me. I’d come across bags like this in the glove box of his car, out in the garage with his tools, and…” The earrings slipped through her fingers. They were clip-ons. Lola had pierced ears. She had to face the truth. None of those hidden gifts had been meant for her. “I hate him.”
“Attagirl.” Avery shoved Randy’s shoes into a box as if she couldn’t get rid of them fast enough.
The top drawer of the dresser was clear, having harbored Randy’s briefs and the condom box, which now sat on the floor in the corner. On top of the dresser was the teak box where Randy used to put his wallet and the love notes she’d written him. Lola opened it but other than the keys to the farmhouse they rented to Drew, there was nothing inside. She’d removed the paper trail of their romance soon after his death. The love letters were in a kitchen drawer downstairs. Sometimes she read them with her morning coffee.
Her stomach churned at her romantic naivete.
Avery finished with Randy’s shoes, took one look at Lola, and hugged her again. “Let’s forget about Shaw’s and the bachelorette auction. Let’s go to the theater. We can sit in the projection room, watch movies, and eat buckets of popcorn.” A privilege they regularly indulged in since her family owned the theater.
Broken Lola, the woman who’d believed in true love, wanted to put on a pair of baggy sweats, order pizza, and hide away from the world. Angry Lola, the woman who was discovering she had too much in common with her mother, wanted to flush every photo of Randy down the toilet, put on her sexiest dress, and paint the town red. But there was another Lola inside, one who was strong and scrappy and a survivor.
“No. I’m finishing this.” There was nothing more Randy could do to hurt her.
Lola stood on a footstool and reached for the last of Randy’s things on the dusty top shelf. She handed Avery yearbooks, the small safe containing Randy’s handgun, and then a bulky brown leather duffel.
“It’s heavy.” Avery dropped the duffel to the floor. “Can I open it?” Not waiting for Lola’s approval, she knelt beside it, releasing the zipper.
“What is it this time?” Lola didn’t want to look. “A supply of perfume? Chocolates? Lingerie for his lover?” Was it too much to hope that he’d monogrammed something personal for the other woman? At least then she’d have a clue about his mistress’s identity.
“Holy cow.” Avery sat back on her heels. “It’s a pair of adult blow-up dolls.”
“A pair? His and hers?” Had she thought Randy couldn’t shock her anymore? Whiskey swirled up Lola’s throat. With effort, she swallowed it back down.
“He had an adventurous side.” Avery opened the bag wider, revealing a box with a man’s and a woman’s cartoony faces. “Who knew?”
“Not me.” Lola’s words, like her spirits, were meek and beaten.
“Hey, it’s never been opened.” Avery squeezed Lola’s hand. “He could have bought it for you two to play with. You should be flattered.”
“I’m horrified.” Lola stared at the plastic faces, which looked drawn on with big markers. The smiley-face buttons at Walmart had more character.
“Well, maybe…” Avery opened the bag completely. “Maybe he ordered the wrong thing. These don’t have parts.”