Free No Ordinary Love by J.J. Murray Page B

Then you give the mark a sob story about your last broken engagement. You even show him the engagement announcement to make it look legit. Then you chew him up, spit him out, and move on to another small town where your former fiancés can’t find you. And here you are going for your largest take from me. Isn’t that right?”
    Sheena hit her button and stormed out.
    It’s too late, wench. The whole world knows about you now.
    The camera zoomed in on Mr. St. John’s face. “They didn’t want me for my appearance or my health. Some ran when they thought I wasn’t wealthy. One denied having children. One was seriously bad with money. One woman . . . was not a woman. Another has a serious drug and alcohol problem. And the last woman was a pathological liar and a sociopath.”
    The host appeared at his side. “I’m sorry you had no success in finding your bride tonight, Mr. St. John.”
    “Don’t be.” Mr. St. John stood. “It’s what I expected.”
    Then Mr. St. John pushed off his blanket, tore off his robe, removed his beard and a wig, and dived into the pool.
    That man was hot! Whoo! Look at him swim!
    Mr. St. John swam to the other end of the pool and stared into the camera with his striking green eyes. “One has to be careful, doesn’t one?”
    The host handed him a towel, and Mr. St. John walked, dripping, out of the pool.
    That’s what I’m talking about. Look at those cuts!
    “Shall we try again next week, Mr. St. John?” the host asked.
    Mr. St. John nodded. “We shall.”
    “For the next twenty-four hours,” the host said, “if you want to be a contestant on Rich Man, Lucky Lady, go to our Web site, and apply right now.”
    “And please,” Mr. St. John said, “only apply if you fit the criteria. All I ask is that you be honest, faithful, and true . . .”

9
    M r. St. John seemed a little sad, but if it was what he expected to happen, he shouldn’t have been sad at all. If you expect nothing, you’ll never be disappointed, right?
    Trina tried to apply to be on Rich Man, Lucky Lady, but once she reached the Web site, the page never fully loaded, she could click on nothing, and the screen froze.
    A couple million “honest, faithful, and true” women probably just crashed the server.
    Deciding to try again in the morning, Trina returned to the Second Chances application. She stared at the last sentence:
     
    And then he met Dr. Too White.
     
    I can’t put that in there. That makes me look racist. She was too white for Robert, but . . .
    She deleted the sentence and continued:
     
And then my husband met and started an affair with a surgeon at San Francisco General Hospital. “I’m going to be late again tonight,” he often told me. “I have a seminar I have to attend over the weekend.” I thought he was putting in extra time to be a more skillful surgeon. I thought he was working longer hours so he could better provide for us. I thought he loved me.
I found out about the affair when he told me, “I’ve found someone who will be better for my career. I hope you understand.” And then he filed for divorce, not me, citing irreconcilable differences. Because I couldn’t afford a decent lawyer and his mistress could, I didn’t get much in the way of alimony. It barely pays one-third of the credit-card bills he left me with.
For the last two years, I have been living in a cramped apartment near where I work because I can’t afford a car or even bus fare. I need new work shoes and a rain jacket that doesn’t leak here in “sunny” San Francisco. I need a microwave from this millennium that doesn’t dim all the lights in my apartment. I need a bigger bed.
I also need a man to keep me company, to keep me warm at night, to talk to me, to listen to me, and to love me.
I gave up ten years of my life so my ex-husband could become a surgeon. I did this by choice. I sacrificed everything for him, and I would do it again. That’s the kind of person I am. But all I have to show for our