She's The One

Another One

Tom winced as the front door to his home slammed. He heard small clicks of dog nails on his polished wooden floor. Bobby stops at Tom's bare foot, whining and looking up. He sighs and looks down at his faithful furry son. "Well, Bobs, that could have gone better." He says, turning and walking into the kitchen. Bobby follows, tail wagging. Tom runs both hands into his long curls before preparing a hot cup of tea. He should feel upset, but all he feels is relief. She didn't understand him like he hoped she would. He folds his hands over his bare chest, leaning against the counter. "Bobby, I guess I start all over again," He tells the sweet ginger pup. A bark is his answer, and Tom smiles. He fixes his tea and walks to the sitting room overlooking the enclosed backyard. He watches a few birds enjoying the large bird bath outside his window. Bobby even loved it. Tom thought back on the moment he met Clarissa. It was at Luke's office, and the day was cold and windy. She was beautiful with her long pea coat and long blond hair. She seemed so different, but in the end, she just wasn't the one.

Denise wiped the sweat from her forehead, scrubbing the old clawed bathtub vigorously. Her bluetooth speaker started up on the next song, a favorite Rihanna of hers. She swayed along, singing as she continued to scrub. She was so glad her publisher convinced her to move to England in early summer. Her joints would have protested all this cleaning in cold weather. Nodding, satisfied that her tub was finally clean, she took the attachment for the shower and rinsed it thoroughly. Her bathroom was finally done and ready for decor, rugs, and her toiletries. The rest of the house was easier since she hired painters and a flooring company that cleaned and polished the gorgeous wood. She smiled, feeling content for the first time in a while. The move here was the best decision she ever made. She loved living outside London, and her house was a beautiful old two story with lovely features like a working dumbwaiter and a large, deep kitchen sink. The best part was the complete rewiring of the whole house before she bought it. The cost of that would've made it impossible to afford. She turns her fan on, sitting on the floor with her iced coffee and phone. She has a short text from her editor informing her she finished the job. She texts back smiley emojis and a promise to go out for coffee soon. She was a best-selling author but not one anyone would necessarily know and definitely not recognize. She wrote a form of Shakespeare for those who just couldn't understand the language. She'd been the nerd, the weirdo in high school, that could read and understand Shakespeare's words. She loved it. She wanted to be a writer but never knew what to create. She decided to see if anyone was interested in a more thorough explanation of Shakespeare's works. Cliff Notes were useful, but she wanted others to feel the emotional impact the Bard made. She found a publication company here in England that was interested in her idea, and soon she wrote her first one, Romeo and Juliet. It was also the first one she read in high school as well. Her book became a best seller, and she soon made enough to relocate here. Other books followed, her latest one, her favorite. Hamlet was just finished by her editor and friend, Barbara. She listened as her playlist ended, and just the sound of her turning fan filled her ears. She sighed, happy but a little lonely. She wasn't a spring chicken anymore, and she did long for a relationship. Well, she thought, back to work. The issue of love would have to wait longer.