A DIFFERENT SORT OF LOVE AFFAIR | EXCERPT

EXCERPT

March 2014

Portia stood in the corner of her best friend's house and tried to be invisible. Naturally, it wasn't meant to be.

Her circle of friends were by and large extroverts. Portia was the odd one, the outlier, the one who wasn't like the others.

On the other side of the great room, her best friend Samantha made out with her husband Ira - a man all her friends were convinced was a unicorn among the male gender - as they enjoyed a rare weekend without their little boy. They swayed gently to the music and occasionally stopped kissing to talk softly with smiles on their faces. They'd been the perfect couple from the start.

Portia watched vibrant Tika dance between two equally gorgeous men who looked about five years younger than the recent divorcee. One strap of her seductive party dress slipped off her shoulder and none of the trio moved to put it back.

The back patio was where Maria felt most comfortable. She could smoke without feeling weird, stretched out on one of the padded chaises in her punk-inspired clothes. Some of Sam's single female friends - many possessing ambiguous sexuality - brought her drinks and snacks, drawn to her as so many had been over the years. Her laughter was warm and full, audible through the floor to ceiling windows that looked out on Sam's sprawling backyard.

Even their only male friend excelled in a circle of Ira's work colleagues, laughing and entertaining them as he played show tunes on the piano the couple had installed just for him. They were an eclectic tech crowd and embraced the vibe Daven brought to any gathering. His suit and hairstyle were straight out of the 1940s and he wore it better than anyone else could have.

Glancing around the torso of a man already smitten with the theater major who made good, Daven gestured Portia over with a wink. She shook her head softly and waved her hand.

Give the fans what they want, love.

Sneaking along the wall and down the hallway, she slipped quietly into the library that was always abandoned during the frequent get-togethers at the Schmidt home located an hour outside Manhattan. Walking to the first shelf, she smiled at the worn copy of Jane Eyre she'd revisited often over Sam's twelve years of marriage.

With a sigh, she kicked off her heels and curled up in the chair she swore the couple purchased with Portia in mind. Dragging her hair into a messy bun with a scrunchy she'd snuck past Sam earlier, she felt herself again. Flipping through the pages, she smiled at the little strip of paper she'd left in the book during the last party.

"Ah, Mr. Rochester...read the room, dear." Before long, she was enthralled in the gathering at Thornfield Hall and poor Jane's humiliation at the hands of the more viable - but less interesting - female who desired wealthy Edward's hand. "You're one catty bitch, Blanche."

A voice behind her commented, "Unfair, I think. The poor darling was expected to marry for money." Portia looked over her shoulder and met the eyes of a man in a wheelchair. He held a copy of The Martian Chronicles. He had a lovely smile and shiny dark hair. With a dimple in his cheek, he continued, "Based on her mother's behavior, Blanche mimicked the example she was given. Let's be glad the dastardly Rochester didn't ruin her chances to marry well. What Jane went through was harsh, but she had no one to answer to and no family depending on an advantageous marriage."

"What a keen observation." She smiled warmly. "Hello. I'm Portia."

"Edgar." He nodded at the book in her hand. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You entered the room like a cat burglar and I found myself fascinated."

"How rude of me. I didn't see you there."

"How could you possibly? You were singularly focused on escape." He quirked a brow. "Clearly, it's a well thought out and often executed tactical plan. You went right to the book you wanted."