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Velma Dinkley couldn’t remember the last time she laid on a beach and did absolutely nothing. That alone was a sign she should have run away ages ago.
Perhaps “running away” was too strong a phrase. She couldn’t categorize this as a midlife crisis; she was still a few years away from forty. She refused to call her abrupt departure from the house she shared with Fred, Daphne, and Shaggy a mental breakdown. Burn out, maybe? As a forensic psychologist, she should be able to classify her own mental fatigue, or whatever this was, but she had spent the last decade mainly teaching the next generation of forensic psychologists, with only one day a week actively treating patients.
For the foreseeable future, she wasn’t going to do either of those things.
Velma should have been thrilled when her university offered her tenure. Instead, she’d had to hide in her office for an hour, trying not to hyperventilate, before approaching the dean and politely requesting a sabbatical instead. Because of her reputation as one of the top forensic psychologists in the country, and how highly her students praised her, the dean agreed on the condition that by the time September rolled around, she’d give him an answer on the tenure.
It was June 29, and September had never seemed so far away.
As for patients, most of the clients she saw regularly were in prison. A handful of colleagues could cover for her, at least until September. Velma hadn’t completely ghosted her clients; all but one understood the need to get away and didn’t raise a fuss. The one who did, Velma would rather not think about.
She’d been doing a fairly good job not thinking about anything until the night before. Velma rarely had bad dreams, let alone nightmares, but she could only describe what had caused her to bolt upright at three in the morning as a night terror. Her clients had often described them to her, but their renditions didn’t do them justice.
Running on five hours of sleep, the beach and a cup of coffee seemed like the best remedy for whatever was ailing her. The Airbnb she had rented was a beachfront property whose beach was often deserted; Velma couldn’t have asked for a better hiding place. The fact that she could stay until the fall was even better – the owners spent the summer in Switzerland with family so they were happy to have the extra income from a reliable renter.
Reliable – the perfect word to describe Velma. How she loathed it. She reclined further in her beach chair, a book she’d picked up at the airport abandoned beside her, the empty coffee cup atop, and did her best not to think about where her reliability had gotten her.
Maybe I should be more like Shaggy. He’s the furthest from reliable. And the lucky bastard was currently spending the next six months in Europe on a culinary tour, reviewing dishes across the continent, paid for by the magazine he freelanced for. Even better: he got to take his dog with him! The beloved Scooby-Doo had passed away almost twelve years ago and although it had taken Shaggy six years before he was ready to find a new companion, he had stayed in the Doo family, purchasing one of Shaggy’s great-nephews whose solid black coat made the group suspicious as to how closely related he really was to Scooby. Still, Shaggy was happy, and that’s what counted.
Certainly happier than Velma. Not that it took much these days to accomplish that.
Velma’s prescription sunglasses shielded her eyes as the morning’s sunshine started to glare down at her. She regretted not bringing an umbrella, but she was too comfortable to move. She glanced at her cell phone she’d shoved beside her on the chair.
Should she call him?
No, she’d told herself when she left the house almost a month ago that she was not going to reach out. If Fred wanted to call, he knew her number.
It hurt more than it should when he did exactly what she expected: nothing.
Velma rubbed a hand across her tired face. This is stupid. You need to figure out what you’re doing in September. You can’t avoid it forever. But when she pictured the fall, that meant addressing the house, her career, and her relationship – or whatever you wanted to call it – with Fred. And that was the main reason she had left in the first place.
Fred. God, what a handsome idiot. Well, idiot was too harsh a word. He wasn’t stupid by any means. With all those monster-catching plans he’d devised, he had skills the group had needed in their younger days when they travelled across country (and globally) catching “monsters” who turned out to be corrupt billionaires, politicians, and other greedy people. But the only way they had been able to do that was thanks to Fred’s money. His parents’ money, specifically. Fred hated talking dollars, but the reality was Fred’s family had enough millions tucked away where they could indulge Fred’s grandiose plans without any strings attached. Fred was doubly lucky that his older brother had inherited their father’s desire to get into law and assumed most of the responsibilities that should have been split between the two Jones brothers.
This meant that Fred hadn’t had to truly work a day in his life. He picked up jobs, he wasn’t one to be idle, but there was never any pressure to make the rent or have enough saved away for an emergency. It’s how the group had managed to live in their current house together; Fred paid almost all the bills. And there was nothing inherently wrong with the house. It gave Shaggy, for example, the freedom to leave for six months without worrying about leaving anything behind. Daphne also benefited from this, as she was currently in New York City for the next month launching her new fashion line.
Velma had appreciated it too, in the beginning anyway. Five years in, she had realized the house had become a gilded cage. She was losing her drive, her ambition, her independence. As part of a constant group since high school, Velma had never truly been alone. Now, it was something she desired more than anything.
And she still did. Mostly.
But wouldn’t it be nice to be alone with Fred?
She’d been trying to for almost a year. But that was the problem with sharing a house with your closest friends – and people you had both previously dated – it made things a bit awkward. Not that Velma was worried about Daphne or Shaggy’s reaction; Daphne’s girlfriend Connie was wonderful and Shaggy’s new friend Peter would be joining the food critic next month.
And it wasn’t like there hadn’t been times in the last year where the pair had had the house to themselves. And they had shared … moments. Intimate moments. But they’d never sat down and said “hey, what do you want going forward? Are you my girlfriend/boyfriend? Where is this going?” Velma had tried, but Fred either didn’t want to discuss it or they were interrupted.
Velma was thirty-seven years old. It was time to figure out what she wanted. And she thought that was Fred. Sweet Fred, who made her chicken noodle soup when she was sick. Who picked her up from work when it was raining. Who made sure the gang all had at least one movie night a month (schedules permitting) and one holiday a year with rotations as to who chose the location. He cared so much about everyone, Velma wasn’t sure if Fred even knew what he wanted. How could he, when he spent most of his time focussing on everyone else?
Maybe it was asking too much for a romantic declaration, but Daphne was a bad influence with her Hallmark movie nights (girls only) and romance books lying around the house. Velma had wanted Fred to admit he was ready to commit, to stop being a “situationship” as Velma’s students called it. To stop waiting until Daphne and Shaggy were gone before kissing Velma.
Velma was tired of being a secret.
On the beach, she kept replaying the last conversation she had with him before her abrupt departure. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up post-coitus, but she figured he had to be in at least as good of a mood as she was. Catching Fred in the right frame of mind was half the battle.
This time, they were in Velma’s room, her queen-sized bed just big enough for them, which was impressive considering how tall Fred was. He usually ended up being the big spoon when they cuddled, and Velma could feel herself beginning to nod off when she thought, perhaps with Shaggy’s departure approaching, now was a good time to bring up something that had been on her mind lately.
“Fred,” she said quietly, unsure if he was asleep yet.
“Mmm?” he mumbled.
“I was thinking we should go out together as a group before Shaggy and Daphne leave.”
“Can’t see why not.” His muscled arm around her waist flexed, pulling her closer to him.
“With Connie and Peter. A triple date.”
Velma could feel the tension blanket Fred; the air seemed to thicken in her incredibly neat room. “A date?” he said carefully, all sleepiness gone from his voice.
“Sure, why not? We’re all adults, right?” She rolled over, determined to meet whatever incredulous expression was on Fred’s face.
Fred’s blonde hair, still mussed from when Velma had run her hands through it, greeted her first. He had withdrawn his one arm and was propping his head up with the other. His dark blue eyes refused to meet her stare.
That was the first bad sign.
“Yeah, but I don’t see why we have to label it a date.”
“Why shouldn’t we?”
“Well…”
She waited. Almost a full minute passed before Fred gave up.
“Fine, there isn’t a reason we shouldn’t. I guess I just don’t see the point. Things are great right now, aren’t they? Why do we have to change anything?”
Velma was stunned. Did he expect them to keep sneaking into each other’s rooms, stealing kisses, with no public displays of affection, forever?
Did she really mean that little to him?
“Change isn’t always a bad thing, Fred.” She sat up fully in bed, her sheets falling off her chest to her waist. She noticed Fred’s eyes subtly flicker to her breasts but refused to let that thrill her – she knew she wasn’t Fred’s typical physical type, based on Daphne at any rate, but Fred had reassured her several times he loved her curves. And while she appreciated that, now it just made her feel like a plaything.
“Freddie, is this truly all you want?”
He leaned over and kissed her quickly. “What more could I want, Velms?”
Those six words gutted her.
Fred left soon after to run errands. He had claimed he would be back by supper. When he did return, Velma was already at the airport, one carry-on bag in hand, and a note left behind on the kitchen island.
She had written: when you’re ready for a change, call me.
Velma angrily wiped a stray tear off her cheek. She blamed her frazzled nerves as to why she jumped so vigorously out of her chair when her cell rang. Heart pounding, she checked the caller ID.
Daphne.
Well, perhaps a little girl-to-girl chat was what she needed.
“Daph, you must be psychic.”
“That’s not my main talent, but it comes in handy. Where are you?”
“I forget what the beach is called, but it’s got white sand and teal water and no people.”
“So, heaven for you.”
“Precisely.”
“But really, where are you? Fred called me last night in a panic—”
“Did he lose my number?”
“No…”
“Then he could have just called me. I’ve been here for almost a month—”
“A month?!”
“Ah, it appears in my hast to depart I forgot to text you…”
“What’s going on? Are you okay?”
Velma almost said “yes, I’m great, nothing to worry about here” but unshed tears clogged her throat. “I’m trying to be.”
“Oh Velms,” Daphne said with a sigh. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Maybe it would be easier if I were a good one. I could keep lying to myself about so many things.”
“Is this about Fred and his inability to commit?”
If Velma had been drinking, the liquid would have shot out of her nose because of her sharp inhale. “How long have you—? When did you—?”
“It’s incredibly obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes and more than five brain cells, so don’t worry, I’m sure Shaggy hasn’t suspected anything.”
“That’s not fair to Shaggy. He can be preceptive! Mostly when it comes to food…”
“Unless Fred cooked you a six-course meal, Shaggy wouldn’t notice. Anyway, this isn’t about Shaggy. What did Fred do now?”
“You sound as if you were expecting this.”
“I love Fred as much as anyone, but there’s a reason we only dated a few months. He’s a good guy, but he can be almost as oblivious as Shaggy, especially when it comes to his heart.”
“I’m not sure this has much to do with his heart as his…well…” Velma blushed.
Daphne snorted. “If you think he’s been with you for almost a year just for the sex, you don’t know Fred as well as I thought. What happened?”
Velma explained quickly, ignoring how much worse her blush got throughout the telling, but by the end she did feel better. “And now I’m here, on a beach, questioning every decision I’ve made for the last five years.”
“God, he’s an idiot,” Daphne muttered. “If we ignore Fred for a moment, like just take him out of the equation entirely, would you want to stay at your current job? Do you actually like it?”
Velma paused. “I do, it’s very rewarding. But I do feel like I need a change. Perhaps I can negotiate to lighten my semesters so I can spend another day each week with patients.”
“It’s a start. You are good at what you do, Velms. Okay, career sorted, for now. Onto housing. Because even if you and Fred do work things out, it doesn’t mean you have to keep living together. Lots of couples nowadays don’t.”
“Like you and Connie.”
Daphne didn’t reply.
“Daphne? You still there?”
“Did I forget to mention Connie came with me to New York?”
“I’m certain I would have remembered an important detail like that! So? How’s it going?”
“Wonderfully,” Daphne said with a dreamy sigh. “Honestly Velms, being with her here has shown me how much I love her. I don’t want to go back to how things are at home. And why should we? Connie’s a great photographer and we make enough to afford a place together. She’s everything I could want in a partner.”
Velma wiped away another tear. “You have no idea how jealous I am of you, and how happy I am for you. You deserve it, Daphne.”
“So do you, Velma, and I know it may not seem like it right now, but it’ll work out. Either with Fred or someone else who will appreciate how amazing you are. You deserve to be chosen.”
An arrow, right to her heart. That was all Velma had wanted from Fred: for him to choose her, in the full light of day, no secrets or avoidance.
“I hope you’re right, Daph. And you are right about the housing situation, I need a change there too. I’ve got until September, but I’ll start looking.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay out there by yourself? Connie and I could swing by wherever it is you are after we’re done here in New York.”
“I’m a big girl, Daph, I can handle it. But thank you. Especially for listening.”
“Text me every day so I at least know you’re alive!”
Velma rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll see if I can squeeze it in between suntanning and swimming.”
“I’m jealous! It’s so hot here, I’d kill for a beach day.”
The girls chatted for a few minutes before hanging up. Feeling more like herself than she had in a while, Velma picked up the book she’d barely gotten two pages into and decided to see if it was worth taking back to the house with her.
It was almost suppertime by the time Velma pulled her head out of the book, the last words lingering in her mind. It wasn’t the best thing she’d read, but it was funny and sweet and exactly what she needed. Velma hadn’t seen many books in the house, perhaps she could find a Little Free Library nearby and grab a few more books…
Velma left the chair behind but took her empty cup with her. As she crested the slight slope leading back to the house, she saw a familiar blonde man waiting for her on the front steps of her rental house.
It was a good thing the sand caught her mug when she dropped it in shock.
She hadn’t realized it was getting cool until she saw the plaid shirt and jeans Fred wore. Velma could see the bags under his eyes from where she stood. In just an oversized shirt and bathing suit bottoms, she felt woefully underdressed for this conversation – whatever it was going to be.
Velma took a deep breath and went over to Fred. When she was about a foot away, Fred met her gaze. “I’m an idiot.”
She had to bite her lip to repress her grin. “No more so than Shaggy.”
Fred shook his head. “Velma, I—” he paused and ran his hand through his hair. He needed a haircut, but Velma liked it a little long on him. “I know I should have called, I started and stopped I don’t know how many times. But I thought maybe a bit of time apart would be good for us. It seemed like all I was doing lately was upsetting you. And I never want to do that, Velms, you gotta understand how much I … I care about you. I never want to hurt you.” He sighed. “But this last week I’ve barely slept. I kept thinking about how stupid I was to say what I did right before you left. Of course I could want more, I’m a selfish man, I want…” He swallowed and took a few steps closer until he could reach out and hold Velma’s small hands in his. “I want to go on dates with you and brag about you to everyone and go on trips just the two of us and all those things that couples do and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not enough for me because you are, Velma, you always have been. I’m just really bad at saying it.”
Velma didn’t bother to wipe the tears away. “You’re doing a pretty good job right now,” she said, unable to hide her smile. She squeezed his hands tight. “Are you sure, Freddie? I know I’m asking a lot—”
“You’re not, Velms, you never ask for anything and I shouldn’t have made you feel like you had to beg me to go on a date with you. That wasn’t fair of me. I was just scared. Still sort of am, but a good kind of scared. Like when I used to see if a trap would work. That anticipation.” He winced. “I just compared our relationship to a monster trap, didn’t I?”
Velma laughed. “Sort of, but I know what you mean.” She untangled her hands from his and wrapped her arms around his waist in a firm hug. “We don’t have to figure everything out tonight, but the fact that you came here shows me we have a future, and that’s all I wanted.”
Fred kissed the crown of her head and held her for a moment longer before leaning back a bit to take in the beach house. “How long do you have these fancy digs for?”
“Until the last week of August.”
“Good thing my calendar is wide open this summer,” Fred said with a wide grin.
“You better not try to teach me how to surf again. I have the coordination of a hamster.”
Fred laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist as they headed up the front steps. “I’d argue hamsters have to be quite coordinated to run on that wheel.”
“You can try to convince me while you make supper.”
“I hope you have a pizza in the freezer, I’m dog tired from my flight.”
“I’m curious, how did you find out where I went?”
“You left the Airbnb booking open on your laptop. It hadn’t powered off by the time I got back, but like I said, I wanted to give us both a bit of time before I booked my flight. Daphne chewed me out on the phone just as I was boarding.”
Fred paused at the front door, painted cream and light grey like everything in this beachy house seemed to be, and kissed Velma, his arms pulled her close to him. One hand snaked up and he wove his fingers through her short chestnut brown bob. Instinctively she laced her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. It was hard to ignore how much she had missed him when her body reacted like this at the slightest encouragement.
His tongue slid past her lips, eliciting a moan from Velma, and she was about to reciprocate when Fred pulled back, just enough to lean his forehead against hers. “I love you, Velma.”
“I love you too, Fred.” She freed one hand to open the door and pulled Fred in with the other. “Supper can wait a bit, I think.” She kissed him soundly, closing the door behind them and locking it shut for the first time during her trip.