Chapter Five

Tris. 

Tris tilted the margarita glass to her lips and took a long swallow. Tartness collided with the salt, exploded on her tongue, and burned through her blood. Unfortunately, not fast enough. She still had a shred of sanity left to question her actions.

The violet fabric covered book beckoned and mocked. She picked it up again, leafed through the pages, and threw it back on the contemporary glass table.

Ridiculous. Love spells, for God’s sake. She refused to stoop to such a low. Ofcourse, when her best friend, chloe, cast her own spell, she had been supportivea nd cheered her actions to find her soul mate.

But this was completely different. Tris cursed under her breath and stared out the window. A sliver of moonlight leaked through the cracks of the organic bamboo blinds. Another evening gone. Another disastrous date. The demons threatened, and there was no one here to fight them back until dawn.

Why did she never feel a connection? This last one had been charming, intelligent, and easygoing. She expected a sexual buzz when they finally touched or at least a lousy shiver of promise. Instead, she got zilch. Zippo. Numb from the waist down. Just a dull ache of emptiness and a longing for . . . more. The one time she felt something real, a deep connection was five years ago with Ethan's dad. But he was a married man who had wanted nothing to do with her. She had been just a one night stand. But it had been years now, her son was grown in kindergarten now. She craved for something more. Someone to come to. Someone to love her. 

Despair toppled over her like a cresting wave. The familiar edge of panic clawed her gut, but she fought back and managed to surface. Screw this. She refused to have an attack on her own turf. Mira grabbed the raw irritation like a life vest and breathed deeply and evenly.

Stupid attacks. She hated pills and refused to take them, positive the episodes would go away by her own sheer force of will. Probably an early midlife crisis. After all, her life was almost perfect, she had the most amazing son anyone could ask for, she had a good enough job that paid for all her bills and she had her small cozy condo that was perfect for her and her son.

She had everything most people dreamed about. 

She adored her trendy condo with no upkeep. The kitchen boasted stainless steel appliances and gleaming ceramic tile. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and made no damn apologies to anyone. She was attractive, financially comfortable, and healthy, aside from the occasional panic attacks. And yet, the question nibbled on the edge of her brain with an irritating persistence, growing a bit more with each passing day.Is this it?

Tris stood and yanked on a silky red robe, then stuffed her feet into her matching fuzzy slippers with devil horns sprouting from the top of the foot. She was drunk enough, and no one would ever know. Maybe the exercise would calm her nerves.

She grabbed the piece of ledger paper and made a list of all the qualities she craved in a man.

A confident man. 

A fairly successful man. 

A man who will accept and love her and her son unconditionallly. 

A man who was family oriented. 

She the scrunched the paper and built the small fire.

Recited the mantra.

Gleeful cackles echoed in her brain at the act of insanity, but she shoved them back with another sip of tequila and watched the paper burn. After all, she had nothing left to lose.

What could it hurt to try to call to mother nature to give her a good man. Ethan was getting older and she also wanted a male figure around him.