The Wrong Heart

by Jennifer Hartmann

“It’s fatal,” I decide. “Clearly. The infection is spreading already.” “Only a kiss can save me from a slow, painful death.” Charlie tsks me with his tongue. “You’ve been watching too many Disney movies,” he chides. “You can only be saved by a highly skilled sex machine, willing to ravish you with his ultra-healing weapon.” My husband’s ensuing eyebrow waggle has me holding back an unladylike snort. I gasp at his audacity. “Where on Earth will I find such a noble savior in a place like this?” Glancing around the restaurant for effect, I eyeball our waiter. “Geoffrey. He was very efficient in providing us with sustenance. He must be skilled in other areas.” “False. I caught Geoffrey flirting with the bus boy—he’s not the one,” Charlie assesses, then sighs with an overly dramatic breath. “However…” I straighten in my seat, intrigued. “Yes?” “There is someone willing to perform this harrowing task. He’s ridiculously good looking.” “Go on.” “He always remembers to put the toilet seat down.” I place both hands over my heart. “Impossible.” “He doesn’t snore. He never steals the covers. He cooks a mean goulash, enjoys doing the dishes, and has quite an impressive… weapon.” A wink follows, and I swoon. “I love goulash.” “We must act now. Time is running out.”