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How to 'Play':
1) Read the story.
(Note: If you'd prefer to read this as a direct-to-device Kindle Book, email me and we'll get that squared away. My email address is: Izzy@isabellepeterson.com)
2) At the bottom of this page are 10 questions in a Rafflecopter form. Answer 'em!
That's it!
The 'game' closes on August 30th, and I'll announce the winners in the September Newsletter.
There will be 3 winners. Each will receive a $5 Gift Card for Amazon (or your preferred eBook vendor)
Long distance dedication
by isabelle peterson
©️2017
CHAPTER 1
AMANDA
One of these days I would have to get over my fear of flying. It really was quite inconvenient at times. The flight from Boston to New York would have only been an hour and a half, but here I was in a rental, driving five and a half hours. And to make matters worse, the last car available was a low end sedan without satellite radio. Every fifty miles or so I had to scan the dial to find a station that would come in without a lot of static.
Fortunately, the air conditioning worked on this unusually warm early June day.
I was halfway through my home state of Connecticut on I-95 south when my cellphone rang. The ringtone told me it was Ian. We’d been dating only four or five months and on paper he was perfect. Successful (read: rich), handsome (actually, more like drop-dead-gorgeous), and British (his accent made my knees week and I found myself agreeing to things I might not otherwise). I was still waiting to feel that ‘special something’ though. Then again, it hadn’t even been half a year of dating. My mother always said you should date someone for five seasons. You can’t know what someone is like the first season because it’s the ‘honeymoon season’ that first month. Then over the next four seasons you know what a person is like all year ‘round. Maybe they’re a complete jerk in winter time. But at thirty-eight, one couldn’t be too picky, could she?
With my phone still sitting in the dashboard holster I was using, I tapped the icon to accept the call. “Hi, hon.”
He cleared his throat, an indication that I’d just made him uncomfortable. He called me ‘love’ and ‘dear’ all the time. Why my calling him something other than ‘Ian’ made him squirm I’d never know. “So, how much longer until you’re back? If you would just take a damn flight you’d be home by now, am I right?”
“Oh, two, maybe two and a half hours. So, after I get this car returned and a quick debriefing with my team back at the office, it’ll be around five-thirty. Want to grab dinner at The Grill Pub? I’m starving,” I said, not exaggerating one bit. I went on to explain, “I skipped lunch so I could get on the road as quickly as possible. Or we can order something in,” I suggested. “My place or yours, I don’t really care.” I actually did care. The more I thought about the juicy burgers at The Grill Pub, the hungrier I got.
“Oh, uh, I’ll make reservations. How about Le Bistro, love?”
I groaned inwardly. Not only was the food at Le Bistro small and avant guard, it was also cross town from my apartment. A good twenty minutes by cab. I’d suggested The Grill Pub which was just around the corner from my place. Not to mention their burgers and fries. “You sure you don’t want to go to The Grill Pub?” I tried again.
“We could go there, but…”
I knew that tone. Ian was a good man, but he could be a little pretentious at times. Burgers and fries weren’t his speed. Steaks or fish, even a pasta, but all things that required a knife and fork. Finger food wasn’t his idea of dinner. Then again... that accent. I was trying to find the words to equalize the brogue when he decided unilaterally.
“Great. I’ll call Le Bistro. Did you want to stop at home and freshen up first?”
“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.” There I go again, agreeing to shit I don’t want to do, just because of his elocution. Stupid accent-loving-girl! I scolded myself
“Perfect. See you there at seven. Okay? Bye, love.”
And with that, without my acknowledgement, the line was quiet. Not only had he not accepted my interest in The Grill Pub, pushing his own food agenda, but seven? I didn’t require much to freshen up. A quick change of clothes, brush my teeth, maybe pull my hair up or something. I didn’t need more than fifteen minutes. I could have easily been at Le Bistro by a quarter after six. I huffed angrily and tossed my phone on the passenger seat, mentally cursing Ian. I’d have to grab something on the way to my office. I was getting a headache from being so hungry. Or angry. Hangry.
I turned the volume back up on the radio and realized I’d lost the signal again. I hit the scan and after a few stations that were either Spanish speaking, playing rap music, or (ugh) talk radio, I stumbled on a channel that came in crystal clear playing Elton John’s Candle In The Wind. I vividly recalled that song. It used to be played several times every hour on the radio back in the day. It was a tribute song to the late Princess Diana after that horrific crash in Paris, an event that marked the start of my freshman year of college.
I turned the volume up and sang along while loads of college memories flooded to mind. Moving into the dorms at Northwestern and meeting my roommate, Heather, and joining Delta Gamma. I remembered with more than a touch of melancholy breaking up with my high school sweetheart later that year. He’d stayed in Connecticut living at home and attended college locally, however I left home and went to college in Chicago.
“This is Pam-Jam Brooks on i95, the home of rock and roll and, oh, Princess Diana, we miss you. I can’t believe that was twenty years ago this August already,” the DJ said as the song ended. “And since we’re all remembering things from years gone by, it seems we have someone on the line who is remembering a lost love. I’ve been talking to Chris from Newtown.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks, Pam. I love your show.”
My heart slammed in my chest. The voice was eerily familiar. And this guy’s name was Chris? Surely a coincidence. It couldn’t be… My mind was playing tricks on me. I’d just been thinking about him and…
“And I love fans like you. Now, what can I play for you today?”
“Um, right. I mean, she probably won’t hear this. I don’t even know what state she lives in anymore but I just can’t get her out of my mind lately.”
I was practically in panic mode. That was totally his voice. More mature now, sure, but one-hundred percent, that was Chris McMurray.
“So, um, her name is Amanda. Could you play Amanda by Boston?”
If there were even a shred of doubt before, all questions were erased with that song request.
“I’d love to. One of my favorite romantic songs. Is she the one that got away, Chris?”
“You could say that,” he said.
I could barely hear what the DJ said next because the blood was rushing through my head so fast and hard and loud. I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight. It was like some bizarre gate had been opened and suddenly I was back in high school.
The guitar chords started filling the car, then Brad Delp’s voice joined in.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I pulled the car over onto the shoulder and put on the hazard lights. My heart was pounding in my chest so hard and I could barely breathe. Even though that song was a bit ‘before’ our time, Chris used to sing the song to me once we’d started dating. He was a big fan of music from the sixties, seventies and early eighties.
We met in the third grade when my family moved from Iowa to Connecticut for my Dad’s job. My desk was just to the left of his and right away he took me under his wing and made sure that no one picked on me. We were tight for the rest of elementary school. When we got to middle school, we pretended the other one had cooties because everyone used to sing ‘Amanda and Christopher sittin’ in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.’ When we started high school, Chris met Janine and the two quickly became an item. When Doug asked me out, the cutie from the school’s soccer team, I was flattered and we went out every weekend—well, I mostly went to his games, then we went out with the team. Chris learned that Janine’s idea of a party was drastically different than his, meaning that she thought drinking and smoking were cool. It was no surprise when neither of our relationships worked out. We both broke up with our respective ‘others’ shortly after Homecoming Weekend. Truthfully, it was a miracle that we’d gone that long. A mutual friend from middle school, Rachael, hosted a New Year’s Eve party in her basement, and that was when Chris kissed me at midnight. It set the course for the next three and a half years.
We were inseparable until Graduation. Chris stayed local, going to Western Connecticut University where he studied music education, and I left the state having been awarded a scholarship to Northwestern University, practically a full ride. He was a trumpet player since the fifth grade, through senior year and into college. He also played piano, and guitar, and saxophone—all of those instruments without lessons.
We tried the long distance relationship thing for a while, but after eight months, it just got too hard. I was up to my eyeballs in study groups and in my ‘free time’ went to sorority functions. Chris was always practicing and was getting booked for gigs. The phone calls and letters were shorter and more spread out. Once I got an internship at a company in Chicago and wouldn’t be coming home for the summer, we broke up.
We kept in touch, but after a few years our cards, once full of everything happening in our lives, were shorter and thinner. The last couple of years we exchanged those Christmas and birthday cards, personal notes once shared were missing; a simple ‘Hope you’re doing well.’ filled the page.
It had probably been 15 years since I’d last sent him a card.
I felt terrible for not keeping in touch with someone who’d been so important in my life. But after I graduated and started work at what was then a small upstart in New York, well… life got busy. A shitty excuse, I know. Furthermore, after my parents moved down to Key West, and my sister moved to Houston, I didn’t really have any other reason to visit my home state. My closest girl friends were in other states, but we’d drifted as well. I’d considered going to the class reunions, but work always got in the way. Last year was the twentieth. I decided that I really needed to get to the twenty-fifth.
I thought about the plans Chris and I had once made. We thought we were going to be forever. Get married, get a dog, have a few kids.
Man! My life was nothing like the way I’d planned. Here I was at 38. No kids. Not even married. Well, I was kind of married to my job. Probably the biggest reason I wasn’t married—to a man, that is.
Memories of Chris swirled in my head—amusement parks, parties, movie dates, formal dances…losing our virginity to each other…
The song ended and a commercial swept in to fill the airwaves, and I realized I was crying.
I snatched up my cell phone and scrolled through my contacts until I reached Chris’ entry. It had been years since I’d called him. When I’d upgraded my phone, I almost deleted his phone number, but for some reason kept it. Impulsively, I tapped the number and the phone started dialing. I almost had a panic attack and hung up when I heard the voicemail pick up. “You’ve reached the voicemail box of…” the robotic, pre-programed female voice said, followed by a man’s voice stating his name. “Dan Ingram.” Then the robot continued, inviting me to leave a message.
I hung up relieved on the one hand that I hadn’t been confronted with my impulsive action of calling Chris completely unprepared to talk to him. On the other hand, I was devastated that Chris’ number was no longer his.
It took me several minutes to compose myself enough to be able to drive, but once I was clear-headed enough, I let the songs of the radio station and Pam-Jam Brooks’ quirky little trivia bits to some songs keep me company until I neared Stamford and lost the signal, forcing me to change stations again.
The rest of the drive my mind was flooded with questions. Had Chris married? I would have assumed he would have. He was perfect husband material. Did he have kids? During the summers Chris and I worked for the town’s summer day camp programs. He was amazing with the kids, especially the younger ones.
He’d gone to school for music education, and wanted to be a high school band director by day, and play gigs at night. I remember he’d gotten a job teaching at an elementary school when he graduated. Was he still teaching? I knew that he’d had some luck with those night gigs, but had those taken off and he was playing more? Or had he let that dream die?
And now, he’s thinking of me.
Why?
Maybe his love life as pathetic as mine. Maybe he’d not married after all.
“Are you feeling okay?” Ian asked.
“Huh? Sure. I’m fine,” I lied. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re just unusually quiet. Typically I can’t get a word in edgewise when you’re back from a company trip. And you’ve barely touched your salmon. Is it cooked okay?”
I looked down at my plate. While I was starving a few hours ago, all the memories long put away had squashed my appetite. Ian raised his hand to call the waiter over, but I stopped him.
“The salmon is great. It’s not a burger from The Grill Pub, though,” I said jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood, yet at the same time I was still more than a little irritated Ian had vetoed my suggestion for dinner.
Ian made a face and said, “So unhealthy.”
He was somewhat of a fanatic with healthy eating and working out. Claimed that he worked out no less than five days a week, sometimes seven. And he watched every bite he put in his mouth. I’d once asked him why he was so cautious about his diet, wondering if he had some high cholesterol count or family history or something, but he simply quoted Benjamin Franklin, ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’
“You’re probably exhausted from the drive from Boston. I wish you’d get over your fear of flying. Statistics show that air travel is the safest mode of travel. Far safer than driving.”
I knew Ian was right. When I was a child, I flew everywhere with my parents, both domestically and internationally. But it just seemed that since 9/11, planes were in all sorts of crashes or problems, not to mention all the hassle of TSA just to get on a flight.
Opposite my fear, my sister and parents couldn’t get enough of flying. My sister, Melissa, was married to a pilot. My parents still flew all the time, jet-setting all over the globe.
I suddenly wondered about Chris’ parents. His dad had been a race car driver and with a blessing from my parents taught me how to drive. His mother was an amazing baker where my own mother was not and she had taught me everything I knew in the kitchen. Sometimes I felt like I was more their child than my parents’.
For the six-hundredth time in the past three hours I kicked myself for losing touch with Chris.
“Helloooo. Where are you?” Ian asked.
“I’m sorry, maybe I’m a little more tired from the drive than I thought.”
I was tired, but not from driving. My mind was exhausted with digging back to those memories of twenty-plus years ago.
“Huh? Sure. I’m fine,” I lied. “Why do you ask?”
“You’re just unusually quiet. Typically I can’t get a word in edgewise when you’re back from a company trip. And you’ve barely touched your salmon. Is it cooked okay?”
I looked down at my plate. While I was starving a few hours ago, all the memories long put away had squashed my appetite. Ian raised his hand to call the waiter over, but I stopped him.
“The salmon is great. It’s not a burger from The Grill Pub, though,” I said jokingly, attempting to lighten the mood, yet at the same time I was still more than a little irritated Ian had vetoed my suggestion for dinner.
Ian made a face and said, “So unhealthy.”
He was somewhat of a fanatic with healthy eating and working out. Claimed that he worked out no less than five days a week, sometimes seven. And he watched every bite he put in his mouth. I’d once asked him why he was so cautious about his diet, wondering if he had some high cholesterol count or family history or something, but he simply quoted Benjamin Franklin, ‘An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.’
“You’re probably exhausted from the drive from Boston. I wish you’d get over your fear of flying. Statistics show that air travel is the safest mode of travel. Far safer than driving.”
I knew Ian was right. When I was a child, I flew everywhere with my parents, both domestically and internationally. But it just seemed that since 9/11, planes were in all sorts of crashes or problems, not to mention all the hassle of TSA just to get on a flight.
Opposite my fear, my sister and parents couldn’t get enough of flying. My sister, Melissa, was married to a pilot. My parents still flew all the time, jet-setting all over the globe.
I suddenly wondered about Chris’ parents. His dad had been a race car driver and with a blessing from my parents taught me how to drive. His mother was an amazing baker where my own mother was not and she had taught me everything I knew in the kitchen. Sometimes I felt like I was more their child than my parents’.
For the six-hundredth time in the past three hours I kicked myself for losing touch with Chris.
“Helloooo. Where are you?” Ian asked.
“I’m sorry, maybe I’m a little more tired from the drive than I thought.”
I was tired, but not from driving. My mind was exhausted with digging back to those memories of twenty-plus years ago.
As I lay in bed that night, my mind was still running a million miles an hour. Why was I on Chris’ mind lately? Had he not married either? Was he kind of feeling like I did: ‘getting up there’ in age and unmarried, no kids…?
My own clock was ‘ticking’ madly. I was 38, and while Ian was nice and successful and so on, he’d not given any indication that he was even remotely interested in getting married. In fact, when I got an invitation for my cousin’s wedding in August, he said, ‘I just don’t get it.’ He thought Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn had it right. Commitment, but no marriage. ‘Adding the legality is what fucks it up,’ he said. But I didn’t believe that to be true. Making that public commitment before God and family is a good thing. It tells the world you belong to each other.
I also wanted children. I figured by now I’d be married and have at least two; one for each hand. As far as children went, if I were honest, I didn’t see Ian as the fatherly type anyway. I don’t think he thought he was either. From time to time, he’d ask if I was still on the pill, which I was. I wasn’t the type of girl to trick a man into any sort of commitment, no matter how badly I wanted to be a mother. Furthermore, Ian always wore a condom. ‘It’s cleaner that way. For you,’ he’d say, as if he was doing me a giant favor. I think he was just covering all the bases.
And then there was the biggest question in my mind: What do I do with that dedication? I mean, what were the odds that I would have even heard it for starters? I just happened to be driving in a car without my beloved satellite radio. I just happened to be passing through Connecticut that day. And I just happened to dial into that station - at the right moment.
It was like the stars were aligned. Fate was in full effect. I couldn’t ignore this.
Furthermore, I didn’t want to.
Breaking up with Chris so many years ago was hard. Even though we both agreed that the distance had eroded our relationship, I still cried for hours. My roommate, Heather, was amazing and helped me come to terms with everything, that Chris being my first big love would clearly be the first big heartbreak. I didn’t date during my sophomore year, but by the summer before my junior year, I met Mitch and we’d had a great summer. We dated until about Christmas then we had a big fight when he was insisting I move in with him. I was happy as a lark living with Heather, and not in any rush to move in with a guy, so we broke up. After that, there were guys, but none worth giving my whole heart and soul to, no one I felt truly connected to. None I could stand spending five seasons with. I’d spent about forty seasons with Chris. And I’d enjoyed all of them. Except that one summer between fifth and sixth grade and he got swept up with a couple of new friends who were staunchly ‘anti-girl.’
Ian and I met at a marketing conference. I remembered being bowled over that he was even remotely interested in talking to me as he had all the women drooling over him all weekend long.
Heather, my roommate from NU, whom I was still very close with, just shook her head when I shared my disbelieve that he’d asked me out after that weekend. “I don’t know when you’ll accept that fact that you are gorgeous, and funny, and wickedly smart. Everyone around you knows it,” she’d said.
That said, why was I with Ian? Did I feel a true connection to him? Was our business banter a connection enough? Or was I just ‘settling’? He was nothing like Chris.
Now that I thought about it, nobody was like Chris. Chris was a caregiver. It was in his nature. Firstly to his parents, but secondly, he was always there for me when I was blue, or sick, or in trouble. He took the blame when I got caught sneaking out of the house at eleven at night during our senior year for the senior prank. He took all the blame for me, both with the school and my parents. And he let me take care of him when he needed it, like when he’d broken his leg on a ski trip with his friends during sophomore year. Or when he had food poisoning from eating something at the school cafeteria during junior year.
Had I been comparing everyone to Chris all along? Or was I just having revisionist memories?
Regardless, I had to somehow get in touch with Chris. I no longer had a cellphone number for him, but maybe he was listed online somewhere.
I slid out of bed and headed to the living room where I curled up with my laptop and started searching for Chris.
I hit up Facebook, but sifting through the number of Chris McMurrays was proving to be nearly impossible, even entering in Connecticut, and Newtown, as search filters. I’d clicked on Facebook groups from our high school; again I came up empty.
The DJ had said Chris was in Newtown, Connecticut, so I next went there. That was a bust. The number of McMurrays in the town were plenty, but no Chris’, Christophers or even C. McMurrays that were listed. So either he was unlisted, or had dropped a landline all together, just using a cellphone like I had done.
I looked for his parents, in our old hometown at the address Chris grew up at, but again, nothing.
I searched the schools in Newtown, hoping to find a listing for Chris amongst the staff, figuring/hoping that he was still teaching. After searching all of Newtown’s schools, plus the surrounding school districts I trashed that idea, and was heartbroken that maybe he wasn’t a music teacher after all.
I almost plunked down my credit card on a site that guaranteed results in finding people when it hit me. I could just call the radio station and see if they had his contact information. Did they do that? After all, it seemed that Chris was looking for me. The station would want to help, right? It was worth a shot.
I spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning in anticipation of calling ‘i95, the Home of Rock and Roll’ the next day. What would I say? Would I get the information I suddenly so desperately needed?
My own clock was ‘ticking’ madly. I was 38, and while Ian was nice and successful and so on, he’d not given any indication that he was even remotely interested in getting married. In fact, when I got an invitation for my cousin’s wedding in August, he said, ‘I just don’t get it.’ He thought Kurt Russell and Goldie Hawn had it right. Commitment, but no marriage. ‘Adding the legality is what fucks it up,’ he said. But I didn’t believe that to be true. Making that public commitment before God and family is a good thing. It tells the world you belong to each other.
I also wanted children. I figured by now I’d be married and have at least two; one for each hand. As far as children went, if I were honest, I didn’t see Ian as the fatherly type anyway. I don’t think he thought he was either. From time to time, he’d ask if I was still on the pill, which I was. I wasn’t the type of girl to trick a man into any sort of commitment, no matter how badly I wanted to be a mother. Furthermore, Ian always wore a condom. ‘It’s cleaner that way. For you,’ he’d say, as if he was doing me a giant favor. I think he was just covering all the bases.
And then there was the biggest question in my mind: What do I do with that dedication? I mean, what were the odds that I would have even heard it for starters? I just happened to be driving in a car without my beloved satellite radio. I just happened to be passing through Connecticut that day. And I just happened to dial into that station - at the right moment.
It was like the stars were aligned. Fate was in full effect. I couldn’t ignore this.
Furthermore, I didn’t want to.
Breaking up with Chris so many years ago was hard. Even though we both agreed that the distance had eroded our relationship, I still cried for hours. My roommate, Heather, was amazing and helped me come to terms with everything, that Chris being my first big love would clearly be the first big heartbreak. I didn’t date during my sophomore year, but by the summer before my junior year, I met Mitch and we’d had a great summer. We dated until about Christmas then we had a big fight when he was insisting I move in with him. I was happy as a lark living with Heather, and not in any rush to move in with a guy, so we broke up. After that, there were guys, but none worth giving my whole heart and soul to, no one I felt truly connected to. None I could stand spending five seasons with. I’d spent about forty seasons with Chris. And I’d enjoyed all of them. Except that one summer between fifth and sixth grade and he got swept up with a couple of new friends who were staunchly ‘anti-girl.’
Ian and I met at a marketing conference. I remembered being bowled over that he was even remotely interested in talking to me as he had all the women drooling over him all weekend long.
Heather, my roommate from NU, whom I was still very close with, just shook her head when I shared my disbelieve that he’d asked me out after that weekend. “I don’t know when you’ll accept that fact that you are gorgeous, and funny, and wickedly smart. Everyone around you knows it,” she’d said.
That said, why was I with Ian? Did I feel a true connection to him? Was our business banter a connection enough? Or was I just ‘settling’? He was nothing like Chris.
Now that I thought about it, nobody was like Chris. Chris was a caregiver. It was in his nature. Firstly to his parents, but secondly, he was always there for me when I was blue, or sick, or in trouble. He took the blame when I got caught sneaking out of the house at eleven at night during our senior year for the senior prank. He took all the blame for me, both with the school and my parents. And he let me take care of him when he needed it, like when he’d broken his leg on a ski trip with his friends during sophomore year. Or when he had food poisoning from eating something at the school cafeteria during junior year.
Had I been comparing everyone to Chris all along? Or was I just having revisionist memories?
Regardless, I had to somehow get in touch with Chris. I no longer had a cellphone number for him, but maybe he was listed online somewhere.
I slid out of bed and headed to the living room where I curled up with my laptop and started searching for Chris.
I hit up Facebook, but sifting through the number of Chris McMurrays was proving to be nearly impossible, even entering in Connecticut, and Newtown, as search filters. I’d clicked on Facebook groups from our high school; again I came up empty.
The DJ had said Chris was in Newtown, Connecticut, so I next went there. That was a bust. The number of McMurrays in the town were plenty, but no Chris’, Christophers or even C. McMurrays that were listed. So either he was unlisted, or had dropped a landline all together, just using a cellphone like I had done.
I looked for his parents, in our old hometown at the address Chris grew up at, but again, nothing.
I searched the schools in Newtown, hoping to find a listing for Chris amongst the staff, figuring/hoping that he was still teaching. After searching all of Newtown’s schools, plus the surrounding school districts I trashed that idea, and was heartbroken that maybe he wasn’t a music teacher after all.
I almost plunked down my credit card on a site that guaranteed results in finding people when it hit me. I could just call the radio station and see if they had his contact information. Did they do that? After all, it seemed that Chris was looking for me. The station would want to help, right? It was worth a shot.
I spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning in anticipation of calling ‘i95, the Home of Rock and Roll’ the next day. What would I say? Would I get the information I suddenly so desperately needed?
“Hi! i95. This is Pam,” the peppy and familiar DJ voice said, answering my call.
I was shocked into silence for a couple of reasons. I remembered in high school calling into radio stations trying to win various concert tickets and I’d never gotten through. Not once. Now my call was answered on the first ring. And direct to the DJ.
My planned speech all flew out the window. Should I even be doing this? I had a boyfriend—even though we hadn’t been together very long.
“Hello?” Pam asked again. “Is anyone there?”
“Um—yes.” I blurted. “It’s me. Amanda.”
“Hi, Amanda. Nice to meet you. What can I do for you? Did you have a special request for the Deja Vu Diner?”
“A-am I on the air?”
“Oh, no not right now.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“So yesterday you had a guy call in and dedicate a song. His name was Chris and he had you play Amanda by Boston.”
“Oh yes. Sweet man. Wait. Did you say you’re Amanda? He said he didn’t know where you were or if you would hear it. Did you call him yet?”
“Well, that’s what I was calling you for. I just happened to be driving home from a business meeting, and coincidentally enough in Boston when I was scanning stations, came across i95 and heard Chris’ dedication to me. He used to play that song for me all the time back in high school.”
“How incredible is this?!”
“I don’t have his phone number or any way to get in touch with him. I-I was hoping you guys track that kind of information and would be able to get me his number.”
“Oh, I would if I could, Amanda. We have privacy policies and such. Even if I wanted to, and I really want to, I wouldn’t be able to get you that information. Unless he gave us explicit permission to do so. Oh geez, hang on. I have to do my radio thing. Don’t hang up, okay? Give me twenty seconds. I’ll be right back.”
She put me on hold and my heart sank. I’d been looking forward to making this call all day. But of course, if he hadn’t given the station ‘explicit permission’ they wouldn’t be able to give his number. I mean, hell, for all I knew, he was married and his wife didn’t listen to that station, or listen at that time of day. Just because Chris was thinking about me, didn’t mean he wanted to get things going again. Did it? Or did he not expect me to hear the song and he wanted it played for himself? He had said that he didn’t even know what state I was in or if I would hear it. I was just about to hang up the phone and give up on all of this nonsense when Pam took me off hold.
“Okay, I’m back. How about you send a dedication back to him? He said he always listens between two and three, on his way home or something like that. We could record the call, and I’ll play that back shortly after two. The same time he called yesterday. Then if he calls the station back, with your permission, we could give him your phone number.”
“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. Um…” My mind raced. What song should I dedicate? I thought about Chris’ favorite artists: Credence Clear Water Revival, the Beatles, Eric Clapton, Fleetwood Mac specifically Stevie Nicks. Suddenly I remembered that he and I sang as a duet for the senior class variety show. “Leather and Lace?” I asked then quickly explained why I suggested that one.
“Love that song. And what a special way to let Chris know how much you remember him.”
Pam had to do a couple of things and then we recorded my dedication. I was reeling. One, all the memories of listening to hours of music with Chris. And Two, Pam would be able to get Chris my number.
I had a couple of quick meetings regarding the details I’d gotten from my trip to Boston to keep me occupied for the next couple hours. Then at two o’clock, I locked myself in my office and brought up the radio station’s website, clicked on the “Listen Live” option and waited, holding my breath.
I was shocked into silence for a couple of reasons. I remembered in high school calling into radio stations trying to win various concert tickets and I’d never gotten through. Not once. Now my call was answered on the first ring. And direct to the DJ.
My planned speech all flew out the window. Should I even be doing this? I had a boyfriend—even though we hadn’t been together very long.
“Hello?” Pam asked again. “Is anyone there?”
“Um—yes.” I blurted. “It’s me. Amanda.”
“Hi, Amanda. Nice to meet you. What can I do for you? Did you have a special request for the Deja Vu Diner?”
“A-am I on the air?”
“Oh, no not right now.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“So yesterday you had a guy call in and dedicate a song. His name was Chris and he had you play Amanda by Boston.”
“Oh yes. Sweet man. Wait. Did you say you’re Amanda? He said he didn’t know where you were or if you would hear it. Did you call him yet?”
“Well, that’s what I was calling you for. I just happened to be driving home from a business meeting, and coincidentally enough in Boston when I was scanning stations, came across i95 and heard Chris’ dedication to me. He used to play that song for me all the time back in high school.”
“How incredible is this?!”
“I don’t have his phone number or any way to get in touch with him. I-I was hoping you guys track that kind of information and would be able to get me his number.”
“Oh, I would if I could, Amanda. We have privacy policies and such. Even if I wanted to, and I really want to, I wouldn’t be able to get you that information. Unless he gave us explicit permission to do so. Oh geez, hang on. I have to do my radio thing. Don’t hang up, okay? Give me twenty seconds. I’ll be right back.”
She put me on hold and my heart sank. I’d been looking forward to making this call all day. But of course, if he hadn’t given the station ‘explicit permission’ they wouldn’t be able to give his number. I mean, hell, for all I knew, he was married and his wife didn’t listen to that station, or listen at that time of day. Just because Chris was thinking about me, didn’t mean he wanted to get things going again. Did it? Or did he not expect me to hear the song and he wanted it played for himself? He had said that he didn’t even know what state I was in or if I would hear it. I was just about to hang up the phone and give up on all of this nonsense when Pam took me off hold.
“Okay, I’m back. How about you send a dedication back to him? He said he always listens between two and three, on his way home or something like that. We could record the call, and I’ll play that back shortly after two. The same time he called yesterday. Then if he calls the station back, with your permission, we could give him your phone number.”
“Oh! I hadn’t thought about that. Um…” My mind raced. What song should I dedicate? I thought about Chris’ favorite artists: Credence Clear Water Revival, the Beatles, Eric Clapton, Fleetwood Mac specifically Stevie Nicks. Suddenly I remembered that he and I sang as a duet for the senior class variety show. “Leather and Lace?” I asked then quickly explained why I suggested that one.
“Love that song. And what a special way to let Chris know how much you remember him.”
Pam had to do a couple of things and then we recorded my dedication. I was reeling. One, all the memories of listening to hours of music with Chris. And Two, Pam would be able to get Chris my number.
I had a couple of quick meetings regarding the details I’d gotten from my trip to Boston to keep me occupied for the next couple hours. Then at two o’clock, I locked myself in my office and brought up the radio station’s website, clicked on the “Listen Live” option and waited, holding my breath.
CHAPTER 2
CHRIS
I slid into my car and headed toward the girls’ school, the radio playing a Bon Jovi song. It was Wednesday, so that meant ballet for my oldest two, and while Suzie and Julia were there I had to run to the day care and pick up Annabelle. On days like these I really wished Josie had made different choices, I wished I had seen the signs.
I had just pulled into the girl’s school and into the carpool lane, when I heard the familiar voice of Pam Brooks.
“Hey everyone. Remember the other day we had a dedication from Chris in Newtown to Amanda?” What? Why would Pam be bringing that up? Then I thought, someone else was now calling in with a dedication of their own. “Well, guess who heard the call? Yep. Amanda! And she’s on the line right now. Amanda, tell us where you were when you heard Chris call in.”
She heard? I started to panic. When I called in it was just because I wanted to hear the song. It wasn’t like I was hoping she would hear it. How would I? I didn’t even know where she lived? We lost touch before she even finished Grad school. If she lived in Connecticut, she would have gotten in touch with me right? I assumed she’d gotten a job in Chicago.
“Right, well I was actually driving from Boston to home in Manhattan.”
She’s in New York?
“How about that? Amanda. By Boston,” Pam said. “Amanda was driving from Boston. I just can’t get over the coincidences! So, what can I do for you today?”
“I’d like to dedicate a song back to Chris. I hope he remembers singing this with me for the Senior Variety Show.” How could I forget? Suddenly I could hear the song in my head. “It’s Stevie Nicks’ Leather and Lace,” Amanda said.
“I do love me some Stevie Nicks. Her voice is like none other. This solo venture away from Fleetwood Mac was one of her top three biggest hits. Going back to 1981, released as a single, here are Stevie Nicks and Don Henley singing Leather and Lace. And Chris from Newtown. If you are listening, give the station a call. I have an additional message just for you.”
Pam rattled off the station’s phone number and the song started to play.
My mind desperately tried to piece everything together. Not only had Amanda heard my dedication, she had one for me.
Focusing on the song, I was instantly transported, as I was every time it played, to the high school auditorium. Amanda was wearing a coral colored shirt that looked beautiful against her soft, peachy skin, and made her blonde hair seem blonder, and her blue eyes bluer. She’d always been beautiful, even when she was slightly awkward in third grade having just moved to Connecticut. I couldn’t believe she wanted to be with me when we started dating in high school. She could have had her pick of any guy in school. And her beauty wasn’t just on the outside, she was smart and gorgeous and so funny on the inside. She was the total package. How had I let us drift apart?
She had the voice of an angel and I couldn’t believe she didn’t have any interest in singing, not even in the high school choir let alone with the garage band my buddies and I had put together.
When we were done singing at that Senior show, everyone gave us a standing ovation. But while she was looking at the crowd, I was looking at her. Her face beamed with excitement as my heart swelled with love. It was in that moment I knew I wanted to be with her forever. I was so sure we were going to get married and have the perfect happily-ever-after. However, like the lyrics of the song went, maybe we weren’t destined to be forever. Maybe I had been over confident and that’s why I didn’t work harder to keep us together.
It’s not like we fought, we just grew apart with her life in Chicago and mine still here in northwestern Connecticut. We remained friends, but the letters became harder to write and the phone calls too hurried. I felt like my stuff was never changing, the same news about my parents, and the same rat race of trying to earn a living as a musician. She seemed to always have something new and exciting going on and was always headed here or there. She would say, ‘If I had more time I could tell you all about it. Maybe next week?’ Then next week was the same thing, or we couldn’t talk because I’d landed a gig and I didn’t have the time.
The last time we’d seen each other was when she’d come home for her semester break. We got together for dinner the day after she got back, and coffee a couple days later, but things felt awkward and forced. Her life was so exciting in Chicago, and I felt like a hick having not even moved out of my parents’ house, basically still doing what I had done in high school. I’d had hopes that the familiar spark would be there, but it was more like a glowing ember of memories. It was then I’d known that we were over. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t say that it was unexpected.
She didn’t come back to Connecticut as far as I knew. Having landed an amazing summer internship the summer after her freshman year, she stayed in Chicago. Then her parents moved to Florida shortly after that. I guess she didn’t have any other reason to come back to Connecticut.
Amanda didn’t make it back for the five or ten-year class reunions either. I didn’t even go to the twenty-year reunion. It hurt too much to see all our friends. When they learned that Amanda and I had split up at the five-year, they tried to make me feel better citing ‘first love’ kind of crap. At the ten-year reunion, they tried to like my new wife, Josie, but weren’t very convincing and their comparisons of Josie to Amanda weren’t helpful. These days I’d have to share what happened with Josie.
Amanda had been on my mind every day since she moved into her dorm at Northwestern. Even as I was marrying my late wife, Josie. I felt guilty as hell, but, I was doing the right thing. With each daughter born, a part of me still thought of Amanda. Pining? Maybe. I wondered if she was married and a mother herself. In high school, Amanda and I often talked about having kids. She always joked I was the more maternal one, but watching her with the kids at the summer day camp we both worked at, I knew she’d be an amazing mother; organized, strong, yet soft when needed.
Don Henley hadn’t even started singing his part, the part I sang with Amanda, when I was dialing up the station. I had to know what this ‘additional message’ was.
“I-95, this is Pam. What can I do for you?” the DJ said, answering the call just like she had almost every time I’ve ever called.
Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door and I looked over to see Suzie and Julia knocking on the back passenger door. School had released and I was so absorbed in the memories and the mere possibility of reconnecting with Amanda, I hadn’t even noticed. I unlocked the door and put my finger up to my lips to shush the girls. Obediently, they shuffled into the back seat and buckled up.
“Yeah, Pam. I’m here. It’s Chris. You have a message for me?”
Cars behind me honked, but I couldn’t move. This moment felt like life or death.
“Oh Chris! I’m so glad you called. You heard Amanda’s dedication.”
“Uh-huh. I did.” I was still amazed over Amanda hearing my dedication. I mean, what were the odds? I should play the lottery. And secondly, she sent back a song, and not just any song…
“Okay, so, Amanda gave me her phone number and said I could pass it along to you…if you want it, that is.”
“Yes. I do ,” I assured her. I wondered if the old number I had for her even worked anymore. Hell if I could even find the book I’d written it down in, my old phone long gone when Suzie dropped it in the sound when we were boating with my dad one Father’s Day several years ago.
The horns honked again behind me and my girls started pleading with me to get going.
“Listen, Pam,” I said. “Can you text me her number or something? I’m in the car—not driving, but I need to get going.”
“Yes, of course! Give me your number.”
I quickly gave her my number, and ended the call. I pulled the car forward and headed to the girl’s ballet studio.
“That’s not the song on the radio, Dad,” my fourth grader, Suzie, admonished.
She was right. I was still whistling Leather and Lace, but now the song White Wedding by Billy Idol was playing. Funny mix of songs. But my smile wasn’t for that.
Amanda had heard.
She sent a song back.
I couldn’t help but smile. Especially when my phone dinged signaling an incoming text. Amanda’s phone number was now on my phone. I was simultaneously elated and terrified.
“Sorry about that.” I wasn’t sorry. Leather and Lace would be playing in my head for the next few weeks for sure.
“Don’t you wanna know how my day was, Dad?” Julia asked.
“Of course, I do, pumpkin. How did your book report go?”
“Great!” she squealed, then launched into an elaborate description of her presentation.
In no time at all we were at the dance school and I quickly ushered the girls inside, helping Julia with her slippers after she’d changed into her leotard and tights.
“I can put them on myself, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I know, but Suzie won’t let me help anymore, so you get my help,” I explained.
She smiled back and brushed her tiny hand on my face. “I like when you help me with my slippers.”
A little while later, sitting in my car, I finally muscled up the courage to read Pam’s text.
2:57pm
Amanda’s number is
646-555-3825. She said
you could call or text.
I was trembling. Literally trembling. I stared at that phone number for a few minutes before I saved it to my address book, and sent a thank you to Pam.
Now what to do? Do I call her? Do I text her? In either case, what do I say?
When I’d put out my dedication yesterday I never imagined that Amanda would actually hear it. I thought maybe a friend of hers would hear it and maybe let Amanda know. And driving home from Boston, while I dedicated a song by Boston, of her name. I started to laugh at the crazy coincidence.
Then I got serious.
I’d always believed in fate. This seemed as if it was a perfect convergence of fate.
I put my phone away while I tried to figure out my next step—a step in a situation I never expected to be in. But for now, I had to get to the day care to pick up Annabelle, then get back to the dance studio to get the girls and then home for dinner and homework and bedtime.
CHRIS
I slid into my car and headed toward the girls’ school, the radio playing a Bon Jovi song. It was Wednesday, so that meant ballet for my oldest two, and while Suzie and Julia were there I had to run to the day care and pick up Annabelle. On days like these I really wished Josie had made different choices, I wished I had seen the signs.
I had just pulled into the girl’s school and into the carpool lane, when I heard the familiar voice of Pam Brooks.
“Hey everyone. Remember the other day we had a dedication from Chris in Newtown to Amanda?” What? Why would Pam be bringing that up? Then I thought, someone else was now calling in with a dedication of their own. “Well, guess who heard the call? Yep. Amanda! And she’s on the line right now. Amanda, tell us where you were when you heard Chris call in.”
She heard? I started to panic. When I called in it was just because I wanted to hear the song. It wasn’t like I was hoping she would hear it. How would I? I didn’t even know where she lived? We lost touch before she even finished Grad school. If she lived in Connecticut, she would have gotten in touch with me right? I assumed she’d gotten a job in Chicago.
“Right, well I was actually driving from Boston to home in Manhattan.”
She’s in New York?
“How about that? Amanda. By Boston,” Pam said. “Amanda was driving from Boston. I just can’t get over the coincidences! So, what can I do for you today?”
“I’d like to dedicate a song back to Chris. I hope he remembers singing this with me for the Senior Variety Show.” How could I forget? Suddenly I could hear the song in my head. “It’s Stevie Nicks’ Leather and Lace,” Amanda said.
“I do love me some Stevie Nicks. Her voice is like none other. This solo venture away from Fleetwood Mac was one of her top three biggest hits. Going back to 1981, released as a single, here are Stevie Nicks and Don Henley singing Leather and Lace. And Chris from Newtown. If you are listening, give the station a call. I have an additional message just for you.”
Pam rattled off the station’s phone number and the song started to play.
My mind desperately tried to piece everything together. Not only had Amanda heard my dedication, she had one for me.
Focusing on the song, I was instantly transported, as I was every time it played, to the high school auditorium. Amanda was wearing a coral colored shirt that looked beautiful against her soft, peachy skin, and made her blonde hair seem blonder, and her blue eyes bluer. She’d always been beautiful, even when she was slightly awkward in third grade having just moved to Connecticut. I couldn’t believe she wanted to be with me when we started dating in high school. She could have had her pick of any guy in school. And her beauty wasn’t just on the outside, she was smart and gorgeous and so funny on the inside. She was the total package. How had I let us drift apart?
She had the voice of an angel and I couldn’t believe she didn’t have any interest in singing, not even in the high school choir let alone with the garage band my buddies and I had put together.
When we were done singing at that Senior show, everyone gave us a standing ovation. But while she was looking at the crowd, I was looking at her. Her face beamed with excitement as my heart swelled with love. It was in that moment I knew I wanted to be with her forever. I was so sure we were going to get married and have the perfect happily-ever-after. However, like the lyrics of the song went, maybe we weren’t destined to be forever. Maybe I had been over confident and that’s why I didn’t work harder to keep us together.
It’s not like we fought, we just grew apart with her life in Chicago and mine still here in northwestern Connecticut. We remained friends, but the letters became harder to write and the phone calls too hurried. I felt like my stuff was never changing, the same news about my parents, and the same rat race of trying to earn a living as a musician. She seemed to always have something new and exciting going on and was always headed here or there. She would say, ‘If I had more time I could tell you all about it. Maybe next week?’ Then next week was the same thing, or we couldn’t talk because I’d landed a gig and I didn’t have the time.
The last time we’d seen each other was when she’d come home for her semester break. We got together for dinner the day after she got back, and coffee a couple days later, but things felt awkward and forced. Her life was so exciting in Chicago, and I felt like a hick having not even moved out of my parents’ house, basically still doing what I had done in high school. I’d had hopes that the familiar spark would be there, but it was more like a glowing ember of memories. It was then I’d known that we were over. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t say that it was unexpected.
She didn’t come back to Connecticut as far as I knew. Having landed an amazing summer internship the summer after her freshman year, she stayed in Chicago. Then her parents moved to Florida shortly after that. I guess she didn’t have any other reason to come back to Connecticut.
Amanda didn’t make it back for the five or ten-year class reunions either. I didn’t even go to the twenty-year reunion. It hurt too much to see all our friends. When they learned that Amanda and I had split up at the five-year, they tried to make me feel better citing ‘first love’ kind of crap. At the ten-year reunion, they tried to like my new wife, Josie, but weren’t very convincing and their comparisons of Josie to Amanda weren’t helpful. These days I’d have to share what happened with Josie.
Amanda had been on my mind every day since she moved into her dorm at Northwestern. Even as I was marrying my late wife, Josie. I felt guilty as hell, but, I was doing the right thing. With each daughter born, a part of me still thought of Amanda. Pining? Maybe. I wondered if she was married and a mother herself. In high school, Amanda and I often talked about having kids. She always joked I was the more maternal one, but watching her with the kids at the summer day camp we both worked at, I knew she’d be an amazing mother; organized, strong, yet soft when needed.
Don Henley hadn’t even started singing his part, the part I sang with Amanda, when I was dialing up the station. I had to know what this ‘additional message’ was.
“I-95, this is Pam. What can I do for you?” the DJ said, answering the call just like she had almost every time I’ve ever called.
Suddenly, there was a knocking on the door and I looked over to see Suzie and Julia knocking on the back passenger door. School had released and I was so absorbed in the memories and the mere possibility of reconnecting with Amanda, I hadn’t even noticed. I unlocked the door and put my finger up to my lips to shush the girls. Obediently, they shuffled into the back seat and buckled up.
“Yeah, Pam. I’m here. It’s Chris. You have a message for me?”
Cars behind me honked, but I couldn’t move. This moment felt like life or death.
“Oh Chris! I’m so glad you called. You heard Amanda’s dedication.”
“Uh-huh. I did.” I was still amazed over Amanda hearing my dedication. I mean, what were the odds? I should play the lottery. And secondly, she sent back a song, and not just any song…
“Okay, so, Amanda gave me her phone number and said I could pass it along to you…if you want it, that is.”
“Yes. I do ,” I assured her. I wondered if the old number I had for her even worked anymore. Hell if I could even find the book I’d written it down in, my old phone long gone when Suzie dropped it in the sound when we were boating with my dad one Father’s Day several years ago.
The horns honked again behind me and my girls started pleading with me to get going.
“Listen, Pam,” I said. “Can you text me her number or something? I’m in the car—not driving, but I need to get going.”
“Yes, of course! Give me your number.”
I quickly gave her my number, and ended the call. I pulled the car forward and headed to the girl’s ballet studio.
“That’s not the song on the radio, Dad,” my fourth grader, Suzie, admonished.
She was right. I was still whistling Leather and Lace, but now the song White Wedding by Billy Idol was playing. Funny mix of songs. But my smile wasn’t for that.
Amanda had heard.
She sent a song back.
I couldn’t help but smile. Especially when my phone dinged signaling an incoming text. Amanda’s phone number was now on my phone. I was simultaneously elated and terrified.
“Sorry about that.” I wasn’t sorry. Leather and Lace would be playing in my head for the next few weeks for sure.
“Don’t you wanna know how my day was, Dad?” Julia asked.
“Of course, I do, pumpkin. How did your book report go?”
“Great!” she squealed, then launched into an elaborate description of her presentation.
In no time at all we were at the dance school and I quickly ushered the girls inside, helping Julia with her slippers after she’d changed into her leotard and tights.
“I can put them on myself, Dad,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“I know, but Suzie won’t let me help anymore, so you get my help,” I explained.
She smiled back and brushed her tiny hand on my face. “I like when you help me with my slippers.”
A little while later, sitting in my car, I finally muscled up the courage to read Pam’s text.
2:57pm
Amanda’s number is
646-555-3825. She said
you could call or text.
I was trembling. Literally trembling. I stared at that phone number for a few minutes before I saved it to my address book, and sent a thank you to Pam.
Now what to do? Do I call her? Do I text her? In either case, what do I say?
When I’d put out my dedication yesterday I never imagined that Amanda would actually hear it. I thought maybe a friend of hers would hear it and maybe let Amanda know. And driving home from Boston, while I dedicated a song by Boston, of her name. I started to laugh at the crazy coincidence.
Then I got serious.
I’d always believed in fate. This seemed as if it was a perfect convergence of fate.
I put my phone away while I tried to figure out my next step—a step in a situation I never expected to be in. But for now, I had to get to the day care to pick up Annabelle, then get back to the dance studio to get the girls and then home for dinner and homework and bedtime.
CHAPTER 3
AMANDA
After hearing my dedication go out, and flinching over the sound of my voice on the radio, the afternoon grew more and more crushing when Chris didn’t call. Maybe it wasn’t fate that I’d heard his dedication. It was more likely a fluke. He probably didn’t hear my dedication. I mean, lightning doesn’t strike twice, right?
By the time six o’clock rolled around, I decided to put this whole nonsense of the past thirty hours out of my head.
I powered down my laptop, collected the files I wanted to look at more closely at home, and put them all in my bag. I turned off the lights and headed home.
On my way to the subway station, I passed the building Ian worked in. In the spirit of putting the whole Chris thing out of my mind, I decided to pay a visit to Ian. I got off the elevator and breezed past the cubicles to his office. As head of accounts, he had a private office and a secretary. Thankfully Lana was out. I liked her, but sometimes she pushed for too much information from me.
I knocked carefully on his door and heard him say, “Come in.” I pushed open the door a little bit and poked my head inside.
“Hang on, James,” he said to the phone, waving me into his office. He pressed a button on the phone, set the receiver on the desk and walked over to me. “Hey. To what do I owe the pleasure? Oh my god. We didn’t have something set up, did we?”
“No. I just felt like stopping in and saying ‘hi’ and seeing if you wanted to grab dinner or something.”
“Oh, I would, but I’m sorry. I need to stay. The deadline on this account’s release is getting pushed back due to delayed production in California. I’m on the phone with the team in San Fran now trying to see if we can proceed sooner than later. This really gums up the whole timeline for the rest of the year. I’ll be done probably,” he sighed heavily while looking at his watch, “not until seven-thirty at the earliest. We’ll catch up then? I’ll text you when I’m on my way over, okay?”
I was a little disappointed, but not surprised. I accepted the kiss he placed on my cheek before he swiftly turned and returned to his desk and call. Truth be told, I was a little grateful that he wasn’t available. I didn’t think I’d be good company anyway.
Down in the lobby of Ian’s building I called up Heather. Maybe a little girl talk was what I needed. But as it turned out, her older daughter, Cheyanne, had a concert. “Believe me, I’d much rather cozy up with you and a bottle of wine for some gossip than sit and listen to a bunch of fourth-graders sing. The price of being a mother,” she joked. I knew she always felt a little guilty about getting married and having kids while I was still looking for love.
“Yeah, better you than me,” I replied, reassuring her that I didn’t feel like I was missing out on the ‘kids’ piece. “Let’s get together next week?” I suggested.
“Deal! Just not on Tuesday. Justin has his second-grade art show.”
“Got it,” I said and we said our goodbyes. I was so glad that she’d also gotten hired at a company in New York. She was an attorney (as was her husband) and while being a full-time mommy, she was also a full-time lawyer, at least now that both her children were in school. I had no idea how she balanced it all. I was stressed out just thinking about it.
I took another moment to call The Grill Pub so I could finally get my juicy bacon cheeseburger and curly fries. I hit the subways and headed home, stopping only to pick up the most delicious burger in all of New York.
Once at home, and gastronomically satisfied, I went to my closet. Up on the shelf, behind my favorite shoes, I found my keepsake box. I pulled it down and headed to my favorite space in the condo. In the hallway between the living room and bedroom was a window seat overlooking Central Park. I had placed a comfy bench under it and flanked it with bookshelves making it a cozy reading nook.
Curled up on the bench with my back against the side of the bookshelf, I opened the box. Inside were treasures from my years past, my crown from the Senior Prom where I was Queen, and Chris was King, along with the sash. I put the crown on my head and started to go through things. There was the key to my first apartment in New York, a copy, since I had to return the original when I moved out, but it was my first apartment and that was special and precious to me. Next, I looked over the copy of the contract for my first job here in New York. I marveled at the salary I was offered and wondered how I had survived in this city on so little. Under that, tests and term papers I’d scored really well on or was proud of. There was the t-shirt from the week I pledged Delta Gamma. On the day Heather and I were officially inducted, we’d had all our new sisters sign our shirts. Signatures and messages were faded now, but covered the front, back, and sleeves.
Under the shirt were the items I was really after. I lifted the card Chris had given me the day I left for Northwestern. I’d read the handwritten message probably four hundred times and didn’t need to even open the card to know word-for-word what it said, but I opened the card anyway to look at Chris’ handwriting. Most boys had barely legible penmanship, Ian amongst them, but Chris’ writing was quite neat; not like a girl’s, but still easy to read.
My Dearest Amanda ~
I wish you could understand how proud I am of you. You’re going to take Northwestern by storm with your intelligence, your beauty, and kindness.
I’ll cherish our memories from high school, and I look forward to many more, but for now—college. I am so happy for you that you are following your dreams, and to get such an incredible scholarship to an outstanding university, well, I’m honored to know you. At the same time, I’m a little heartbroken knowing that I won’t see your sparkling green eyes every day, or touch your silky blonde hair. I won’t have anyone to serenade, or play songs for, which will make the breaks when you come home all the more special— so get ready for a lot of private concerts!
I don’t know what I did to be so lucky to meet you and have you return any of my feelings, but I’m certainly glad I did something right. I’ll miss you every day, but you’ll always be in my heart. You changed me for the better.
We knew these days were coming—graduation and then college—but that doesn’t make this any easier. What keeps my chin up is that it won’t be forever.
Please don’t change while you’re gone. Learn, of course. Grow, sure. But you are amazing, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Be yourself.
We’ll write, and we’ll call, but I will still miss lying around and planning our future together.
As they say, we’re not saying “Good-bye,” we’re saying, “See you later.” I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving already, but maybe I’ll come visit in October if I can find the time. Know that I’m just a phone call away.
Thanks for loving me. I love you back.
Yours forever,
Chris
I pushed away the stupid tears that were flowing freely from my eyes, and snatched up a tissue from the box on the table next to my chair to blow my nose. It had been so long since I’ve read that letter. How could I have let him go?
Spotting my diary from high school, a day by day accounting of my life, I carefully picked it up and thumbed through the pages. Some days I wrote just a few lines, some days were lucky enough to have a few pages. I stopped my flipping and came to the entry where we’d gone to the amusement park in Massachusetts for the day with our friends. He’d won me a giant bear—it only cost him $35 to win it. Flipping again, I stopped at the sophomore year Homecoming Dance when the strip of photos from the picture booth fell out. It was our first formal dance together since we were both seeing other people our freshman year. Looking at the two of us in those pictures made my heart beat faster. In the picture at the bottom Chris was looking at me and you could see the love in his eyes, even then.
My cell phone rang, startling me out of my reverie. I looked at the screen hopeful that Chris was finally calling. Not gonna lie, my spirits dropped when I saw it was Ian.
“Hi, Ian,” I said accepting the call.
“Hello, Sweetheart. You’ll never guess who I ran into in the lift.”
“Cher?” I guessed.
“Cute,” he replied dryly. “Ryan Gianetti,” he answered. Ryan and Ian had gone to NYU together; Ian had gotten his degree in business, Ryan went for political science. I’d met him a time or two and I don’t know what it was, but the guy rubbed me the wrong way. He almost made me reconsider dating Ian. They always say you can judge a man by the company he keeps. “He was in the building talking to his attorney. Messy divorce.” He paused for effect here. Yet another reason he was afraid of marriage. And I guess I wasn’t the only one Ryan didn’t get along with. “Have you eaten?” Ian asked.
“I did. Finally got my burger,” I answered with just a touch of ‘cheek.’ I could practically hear his eyes roll.
“Well, he and I are going to grab some dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us,” he offered.
“I’m good. You guys enjoy yourselves. Give Ryan my best.”
“Well, I’ll message you when we decide on a restaurant, in case you change your mind.”
Somehow when he said that, I felt like the invitation was more for him to show off to Ryan, like I was some sort of trophy. As if he wanted to flaunt to Ryan that he still had a girl or something. Ian always said they’d forever been in competition for everything.
Did he have me?
“Okay. Like I said, give Ryan my best,” I repeated, letting him know that I wouldn’t be showing up.
Annoyed, I got up from my trip down memory lane and went to refill my glass of wine. I thought about me and Ian. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that feeling. It was the feeling I got when I knew the guy I was with wasn’t the one. ‘Listen to your gut,’ my grandmother always said. I needed to end things with Ian. I drained the rest of the wine into my glass and toasted my late grandmother. I missed her.
Chris always made me feel like the center of his universe. Of course, we were young. We also didn’t have the weight of careers on our shoulders. I wondered what our relationship would look like today if we’d worked harder at maintaining things back in college.
I wondered what he was doing. What kind of career did he have? I could almost imagine Chris and I attending our kids’ elementary school concerts and art shows like Heather and her husband were doing. My heart ached again at missing him and feeling the loss all anew. Would we get a second chance?
But, Chris hadn’t heard my dedication, or he heard it and ignored it. There wasn’t any point in ruminating about the past and what could have been or could be.
I sipped and wondered what in the hell I should do now? I knew what I needed to do. Let Ian go. We were too much of a mismatch. He wasn’t my soul mate.
Chris was. Could he be again?
Snapping out of my pity party, deciding to make relationship decisions on a less wine-soaked mind, I grabbed my work bag and pulled out the files I’d wanted to go over and got busy on the dining room table. I could do marketing spreadsheets under the influence of red zinfandel, not life decisions.
An hour or so later, while I was deep in work. My phone chimed. I glanced over, mostly out of habit and part out of curiosity—wondering where Ian and Ryan decided to go and eat, smirking that he’d waited so long to tell me where they went. Guess he didn’t really want me to join them after all.
But the text wasn’t from Ian. It was from a 203 area code phone number.
8:38pm
Hi.
That was it? ‘Hi’ from some random number. I started to hope. My heart started to swell. My breath quickened. Could it be?
8:38pm
It’s Chris.
Took me all afternoon
and evening to come
up with that. Haha
Oh my god. It was Chris. My hands started to sweat. He must have heard the dedication and called the station to get my number. And now he was texting me! My whole body was vibrating. Quickly, I snatched up my phone and texted back.
8:39pm
Hi!!
Wish I could be more
clever. I’m really just
shocked! LOL
Right away, the message showed up as Read and the three little balls started jumping around indicating that he was writing a message back. I stared at those balls dying to know what he would say next. The anticipation was killing me the longer I waited for his reply to come through. It seemed like he was writing a book! Finally, my phone chimed again.
8:39pm
Can you talk? Can I call you?
I didn’t even hesitate and replied right away.
8:39pm
YES!
AMANDA
After hearing my dedication go out, and flinching over the sound of my voice on the radio, the afternoon grew more and more crushing when Chris didn’t call. Maybe it wasn’t fate that I’d heard his dedication. It was more likely a fluke. He probably didn’t hear my dedication. I mean, lightning doesn’t strike twice, right?
By the time six o’clock rolled around, I decided to put this whole nonsense of the past thirty hours out of my head.
I powered down my laptop, collected the files I wanted to look at more closely at home, and put them all in my bag. I turned off the lights and headed home.
On my way to the subway station, I passed the building Ian worked in. In the spirit of putting the whole Chris thing out of my mind, I decided to pay a visit to Ian. I got off the elevator and breezed past the cubicles to his office. As head of accounts, he had a private office and a secretary. Thankfully Lana was out. I liked her, but sometimes she pushed for too much information from me.
I knocked carefully on his door and heard him say, “Come in.” I pushed open the door a little bit and poked my head inside.
“Hang on, James,” he said to the phone, waving me into his office. He pressed a button on the phone, set the receiver on the desk and walked over to me. “Hey. To what do I owe the pleasure? Oh my god. We didn’t have something set up, did we?”
“No. I just felt like stopping in and saying ‘hi’ and seeing if you wanted to grab dinner or something.”
“Oh, I would, but I’m sorry. I need to stay. The deadline on this account’s release is getting pushed back due to delayed production in California. I’m on the phone with the team in San Fran now trying to see if we can proceed sooner than later. This really gums up the whole timeline for the rest of the year. I’ll be done probably,” he sighed heavily while looking at his watch, “not until seven-thirty at the earliest. We’ll catch up then? I’ll text you when I’m on my way over, okay?”
I was a little disappointed, but not surprised. I accepted the kiss he placed on my cheek before he swiftly turned and returned to his desk and call. Truth be told, I was a little grateful that he wasn’t available. I didn’t think I’d be good company anyway.
Down in the lobby of Ian’s building I called up Heather. Maybe a little girl talk was what I needed. But as it turned out, her older daughter, Cheyanne, had a concert. “Believe me, I’d much rather cozy up with you and a bottle of wine for some gossip than sit and listen to a bunch of fourth-graders sing. The price of being a mother,” she joked. I knew she always felt a little guilty about getting married and having kids while I was still looking for love.
“Yeah, better you than me,” I replied, reassuring her that I didn’t feel like I was missing out on the ‘kids’ piece. “Let’s get together next week?” I suggested.
“Deal! Just not on Tuesday. Justin has his second-grade art show.”
“Got it,” I said and we said our goodbyes. I was so glad that she’d also gotten hired at a company in New York. She was an attorney (as was her husband) and while being a full-time mommy, she was also a full-time lawyer, at least now that both her children were in school. I had no idea how she balanced it all. I was stressed out just thinking about it.
I took another moment to call The Grill Pub so I could finally get my juicy bacon cheeseburger and curly fries. I hit the subways and headed home, stopping only to pick up the most delicious burger in all of New York.
Once at home, and gastronomically satisfied, I went to my closet. Up on the shelf, behind my favorite shoes, I found my keepsake box. I pulled it down and headed to my favorite space in the condo. In the hallway between the living room and bedroom was a window seat overlooking Central Park. I had placed a comfy bench under it and flanked it with bookshelves making it a cozy reading nook.
Curled up on the bench with my back against the side of the bookshelf, I opened the box. Inside were treasures from my years past, my crown from the Senior Prom where I was Queen, and Chris was King, along with the sash. I put the crown on my head and started to go through things. There was the key to my first apartment in New York, a copy, since I had to return the original when I moved out, but it was my first apartment and that was special and precious to me. Next, I looked over the copy of the contract for my first job here in New York. I marveled at the salary I was offered and wondered how I had survived in this city on so little. Under that, tests and term papers I’d scored really well on or was proud of. There was the t-shirt from the week I pledged Delta Gamma. On the day Heather and I were officially inducted, we’d had all our new sisters sign our shirts. Signatures and messages were faded now, but covered the front, back, and sleeves.
Under the shirt were the items I was really after. I lifted the card Chris had given me the day I left for Northwestern. I’d read the handwritten message probably four hundred times and didn’t need to even open the card to know word-for-word what it said, but I opened the card anyway to look at Chris’ handwriting. Most boys had barely legible penmanship, Ian amongst them, but Chris’ writing was quite neat; not like a girl’s, but still easy to read.
My Dearest Amanda ~
I wish you could understand how proud I am of you. You’re going to take Northwestern by storm with your intelligence, your beauty, and kindness.
I’ll cherish our memories from high school, and I look forward to many more, but for now—college. I am so happy for you that you are following your dreams, and to get such an incredible scholarship to an outstanding university, well, I’m honored to know you. At the same time, I’m a little heartbroken knowing that I won’t see your sparkling green eyes every day, or touch your silky blonde hair. I won’t have anyone to serenade, or play songs for, which will make the breaks when you come home all the more special— so get ready for a lot of private concerts!
I don’t know what I did to be so lucky to meet you and have you return any of my feelings, but I’m certainly glad I did something right. I’ll miss you every day, but you’ll always be in my heart. You changed me for the better.
We knew these days were coming—graduation and then college—but that doesn’t make this any easier. What keeps my chin up is that it won’t be forever.
Please don’t change while you’re gone. Learn, of course. Grow, sure. But you are amazing, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Be yourself.
We’ll write, and we’ll call, but I will still miss lying around and planning our future together.
As they say, we’re not saying “Good-bye,” we’re saying, “See you later.” I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving already, but maybe I’ll come visit in October if I can find the time. Know that I’m just a phone call away.
Thanks for loving me. I love you back.
Yours forever,
Chris
I pushed away the stupid tears that were flowing freely from my eyes, and snatched up a tissue from the box on the table next to my chair to blow my nose. It had been so long since I’ve read that letter. How could I have let him go?
Spotting my diary from high school, a day by day accounting of my life, I carefully picked it up and thumbed through the pages. Some days I wrote just a few lines, some days were lucky enough to have a few pages. I stopped my flipping and came to the entry where we’d gone to the amusement park in Massachusetts for the day with our friends. He’d won me a giant bear—it only cost him $35 to win it. Flipping again, I stopped at the sophomore year Homecoming Dance when the strip of photos from the picture booth fell out. It was our first formal dance together since we were both seeing other people our freshman year. Looking at the two of us in those pictures made my heart beat faster. In the picture at the bottom Chris was looking at me and you could see the love in his eyes, even then.
My cell phone rang, startling me out of my reverie. I looked at the screen hopeful that Chris was finally calling. Not gonna lie, my spirits dropped when I saw it was Ian.
“Hi, Ian,” I said accepting the call.
“Hello, Sweetheart. You’ll never guess who I ran into in the lift.”
“Cher?” I guessed.
“Cute,” he replied dryly. “Ryan Gianetti,” he answered. Ryan and Ian had gone to NYU together; Ian had gotten his degree in business, Ryan went for political science. I’d met him a time or two and I don’t know what it was, but the guy rubbed me the wrong way. He almost made me reconsider dating Ian. They always say you can judge a man by the company he keeps. “He was in the building talking to his attorney. Messy divorce.” He paused for effect here. Yet another reason he was afraid of marriage. And I guess I wasn’t the only one Ryan didn’t get along with. “Have you eaten?” Ian asked.
“I did. Finally got my burger,” I answered with just a touch of ‘cheek.’ I could practically hear his eyes roll.
“Well, he and I are going to grab some dinner. You’re more than welcome to join us,” he offered.
“I’m good. You guys enjoy yourselves. Give Ryan my best.”
“Well, I’ll message you when we decide on a restaurant, in case you change your mind.”
Somehow when he said that, I felt like the invitation was more for him to show off to Ryan, like I was some sort of trophy. As if he wanted to flaunt to Ryan that he still had a girl or something. Ian always said they’d forever been in competition for everything.
Did he have me?
“Okay. Like I said, give Ryan my best,” I repeated, letting him know that I wouldn’t be showing up.
Annoyed, I got up from my trip down memory lane and went to refill my glass of wine. I thought about me and Ian. I got a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew that feeling. It was the feeling I got when I knew the guy I was with wasn’t the one. ‘Listen to your gut,’ my grandmother always said. I needed to end things with Ian. I drained the rest of the wine into my glass and toasted my late grandmother. I missed her.
Chris always made me feel like the center of his universe. Of course, we were young. We also didn’t have the weight of careers on our shoulders. I wondered what our relationship would look like today if we’d worked harder at maintaining things back in college.
I wondered what he was doing. What kind of career did he have? I could almost imagine Chris and I attending our kids’ elementary school concerts and art shows like Heather and her husband were doing. My heart ached again at missing him and feeling the loss all anew. Would we get a second chance?
But, Chris hadn’t heard my dedication, or he heard it and ignored it. There wasn’t any point in ruminating about the past and what could have been or could be.
I sipped and wondered what in the hell I should do now? I knew what I needed to do. Let Ian go. We were too much of a mismatch. He wasn’t my soul mate.
Chris was. Could he be again?
Snapping out of my pity party, deciding to make relationship decisions on a less wine-soaked mind, I grabbed my work bag and pulled out the files I’d wanted to go over and got busy on the dining room table. I could do marketing spreadsheets under the influence of red zinfandel, not life decisions.
An hour or so later, while I was deep in work. My phone chimed. I glanced over, mostly out of habit and part out of curiosity—wondering where Ian and Ryan decided to go and eat, smirking that he’d waited so long to tell me where they went. Guess he didn’t really want me to join them after all.
But the text wasn’t from Ian. It was from a 203 area code phone number.
8:38pm
Hi.
That was it? ‘Hi’ from some random number. I started to hope. My heart started to swell. My breath quickened. Could it be?
8:38pm
It’s Chris.
Took me all afternoon
and evening to come
up with that. Haha
Oh my god. It was Chris. My hands started to sweat. He must have heard the dedication and called the station to get my number. And now he was texting me! My whole body was vibrating. Quickly, I snatched up my phone and texted back.
8:39pm
Hi!!
Wish I could be more
clever. I’m really just
shocked! LOL
Right away, the message showed up as Read and the three little balls started jumping around indicating that he was writing a message back. I stared at those balls dying to know what he would say next. The anticipation was killing me the longer I waited for his reply to come through. It seemed like he was writing a book! Finally, my phone chimed again.
8:39pm
Can you talk? Can I call you?
I didn’t even hesitate and replied right away.
8:39pm
YES!
CHAPTER 4
CHRIS
She said “YES!” In shouty caps. She wanted me to call her.
If I felt nervous sending a simple text that lamely said, ‘Hi,’ what would you call how I felt now? Terrified?
I looked back at the text, seeing her ‘shouty caps’ of YES! Before I could talk myself out things by over analyzing her text and wondering if I was doing the right thing, I tapped on the phone number, then pressed DIAL. After all, I’d started all of this the other day with putting out the impulsive dedication. I couldn’t run away now.
“Hi,” I heard as she answered the call.
I took a breath and let it out. I was on a live connection to the woman who still had my heart after all these years. Her voice was still the same, soft yet a little raspy. A little like Demi Moore’s, which probably explained why I had watched every Demi Moore film and knew every line by heart.
“Amanda,” I sighed. Saying her name—to her—was like a dream come true. “I can’t believe this,” I said, gathering my wits. “H-How are you?” I asked, almost breathlessly in complete amazement to the events as they were unfolding.
“Can’t complain,” she replied. “You?”
“Living the dream,” I answered, chiding myself for lying. Nothing about my life for the past eleven years has been my dream.
“I tried to call you the other day,” she blurted. To say that her comment surprised me was an understatement. “After I heard the song. But you changed your number.”
“Unfortunate accident with my old phone,” I explained.
“I couldn’t find any other phone number for you. And then I tried looking up your parents, but that didn’t work either.”
I was stunned. She’d made an effort to find me. I almost forgot how to speak, but somehow I managed. “Yeah, well, I’ve gone down to just the cell phone these days. And Mom and Dad moved to the shore. Fairfield, actually.”
“That’s great. Your dad must be so happy. And you? Please tell me you’re teaching,” she said excitedly. “Are all those little kids completely adorable?”
“I am,” I answered, “but the kids aren’t that adorable. Or little.”
“What?”
“I’m the Assistant Band Director at WestConn.”
“Shut up! That’s great! I always imagined you working with little kids.”
“Oh, I did that. Six years in elementary schools, three in the middle grades. I really enjoyed my stint as the high school band director. It was then when I was getting my masters in music ed that this position came available. The hours aren’t as great, but the pay and benefits are better.”
“I bet. And are you still gigging?”
“Not as much as I used to this past couple of years, but I still have my hand in it. But enough about me and my boring teaching life. What have you been up to?” I asked, needing to get the focus off of me. I knew I needed to tell Amanda about Josie and our girls, but it was messy and complicated. I hadn’t worked out just how to explain it all yet. Not without making myself look like a total douchebag.
“Well,” she started. “I interviewed with a number of companies just before I graduated; some in the Chicago area, a few in California, but it was the opportunity in New York that was the most exciting, so I’ve been in the area for seventeen years. I’m sorry. I should have called you sooner,” she said with more than a touch of sadness in her voice. I wondered if she was biting her lip the way she always did when she was unsure of things.
“I could have reached out too,” I assured her. “But hey. We’re talking now.”
She laughed. “Yes. We are.”
“So, what are you doing? Who do you work for?” I asked aiming for the light-hearted conversation we’d been having moments earlier.
“Right. So, after years of working in the trenches for great companies, I finally got in with the company I’m with now. In fact, I’m the CMO—the Chief Marketing Officer,” she explained.
“I’d say that I’m surprised, but I’m not,” I said. “I always knew you would do amazing things.”
The sound of her laugh coming through the line again was music to my ears.
“Tell me, Mr. Flattery, is there a woman you tell that to every day? Are you married?”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. How do I answer that question? “Nope. Not married,” was all I said. I didn’t elaborate. I kind of felt like a heel for that. “You?” I asked before she could probe further.
“Been with a guy for a few months,” she said quietly. If I thought the wind had been knocked out of me earlier, I was wrong. Now I was winded. My heart ached. “But we just ended things.” And just like that I was hopeful again.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
“I’m sorry if this seems out of left field,” she said, nerves clear in her voice, “but I’d love to see you. What are you doing tomorrow?”
My heart nearly exploded from my chest. She wanted to see me. My mind churned to come up with something witty, so I went with, “I’m taking you out to dinner, of course,” I answered, pulling up as much courage as I could. She gave a small squeal and my heart leapt. “Where would you like to go? I know a lot of great places in the city.”
“I’m open for anything. You choose,” she answered tossing the ball into my court.
“Great. I’ll see you at six?”
“Perfect. I’ll text you my address. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” I answered. “See you in less than twenty-four hours.”
“See ya.”
I hung up the phone feeling like I’d just won the lottery. Amanda wasn’t with anyone and she wanted to get together tomorrow.
Then I quickly felt myself fill with dread. What would she say when she learned of my late wife and our three girls?
Was I doing the right thing? It had been only twenty-three months since my wife Josie had her breakdown saying she never should have had any children, packed and left, leaving me with an eight-year-old, a four-year-old, and a three-month-old. I had tried desperately to track her down, but she’d pulled five-thousand dollars from our joint account and disappeared. She said she was going to go to her mother’s for a couple of months to get her head on straight, but she never arrived there. Her mother didn’t even know to expect her. I even hired a private investigator to find her, but he’d come up empty until a Jane Doe showed up in the Chicago morgue three months later. The toxicology report revealed she’d died from a combination of alcohol and heroin. Josie wasn’t a drinker, and had never done drugs, but apparently when she had hit the road, out of her mind, she’d somehow turned to the stuff. I never learned how she got there, why she went to Chicago, or how she fell into drugs. The best guess was that she suffered from severe postpartum depression. I had missed all the signs, well, that and she was very good at hiding them. Her friends assured me that she had them fooled as well. She had been a bit ‘blue’ since Julia was potty trained, and had me convinced that she was sad because she wanted another baby. Never one to deny Josie anything, I caved even though financially a third child would be a struggle. And, selfishly, I hoped we’d have a boy. Don’t get me wrong, I love my girls. More than breathing. But a boy would have been nice.
I blamed myself for all of it, of course. I’d married Josie only because our one-night-stand had resulted in the pregnancy. I cared deeply for her—but I was never in love with her. I loved Amanda. That was what I was looking and hoping for. I’d not really known Josie. I had some hopeful pie-in-the-sky notion that we’d fall in love eventually. But we didn’t go much beyond a solid partnership. The night we’d gotten together at a mutual friend’s party, I had been drinking to quiet the heartache of missing Amanda and was fed up over another failed relationship because it didn’t come close to measuring up to what I’d had with Amanda. Josie was heartbroken over her boyfriend of six-years being deployed to Iraq. They hadn’t broken up, but in the drunken haze that we both were in, we turned to each other for the comfort of a stranger. Six months later, we wed.
Shaking off my pity party of one about my past, I went to check in on my little angels to make sure they were sleeping. I shook my head when I saw that Annabelle had already kicked off her blankets. Every night. Julia was soundly asleep, and talking. Nothing unusual there.
Looking in on Suzie, however…still—nothing unusual.
Busted. Like every night for the past two months she’d been up late reading. She’d always been a reader, but it was almost problematic these days. It almost felt like she was trying to escape reality. It seemed every time I turned around, I’d catch her reading. She could be up to worse, but it broke my heart. She had always been involved with her friends, but more and more, she’d ask about her mom, and when I couldn’t give her the answers she wanted, she’d pick up a book.
“I swear, Dad. I’ll go to sleep after this chapter.”
“No swearing,” I joked, like I did every night. “Only one chapter. Remember, tomorrow is Friday which means I—”
“I know. I know,” she grumbled. “Early day so we have Before School Club.”
“And I have a student who needs a makeup lesson, so—”
“Crap!” she cursed. “I hate After School Club. Jaxson is there and he’s such a jerk!”
“Hey! What did I just say about swearing?” I admonished.
“Can’t you just give me a house key and I just come home? I promise that I won’t cook or answer the door or—”
It was my turn to cut her off. “Cupcake,” I said taking a seat on the side of her bed.
“It’s just a couple of hours. If you ask me, Jaxson picks on you because he likes you.”
“Ew, Dad! That’s gross. We’re talking about Jaxson here. The kid that actually ate a mudpie in kindergarten.”
“Boys are weird. I’m sure you’ll be changing your tune soon enough, and I’ll be changing mine, but give the kid a break, okay? Besides who will look after Julia in After School Club?”
“She’ll be with her other first grade friends. She doesn’t need me to take care of her. If Mom were here, we could both just—”
My heart broke for my little girl. It had been almost two years since her mother just up and left. Suzie seemed to handle it all so well back then, while Julia, who was four at the time, completely broke down. Seeing Julia back on track was refreshing, but I feared for Suzie now. How would she feel if she knew I was going on a date tomorrow night? “I know, Sugar. But we can’t change what’s happened. We can only work with the cards we’ve been dealt. But never forget how much she loved you, and how much I love you still.”
“I know,” she whispered sadly, then kissed my cheek. “Can I get back to my book, please?”
I glanced down at the book she was reading. The Harry Potter series. I think this was the third one in the collection. Her teacher was extremely impressed with her advanced reading skills, as was I.
“Are you sure these books don’t scare you?” I asked, not for the first time.
“They’re just fiction, Dad.”
She snuggled back into her pillows and turned on her flashlight. I kissed the top of her head and went to the door. “Love you, Cupcake.”
“Love you too, Big Cake,” she said with a smile. I turned off her bedroom light leaving her with her small spotlight.
I had to go make another phone call. My mother. I needed to ask her to watch the girls. I didn’t know what would make her happier, that she’d get some granddaughter time? Or that I was going out on a date? I decided that I would hold onto the detail that it was with Amanda. She’d never said it out loud, but I could tell Mom was disappointed that Amanda and I didn’t last forever. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Who knew how Amanda would take the news of my marriage and children? Things might not work out after all.
CHRIS
She said “YES!” In shouty caps. She wanted me to call her.
If I felt nervous sending a simple text that lamely said, ‘Hi,’ what would you call how I felt now? Terrified?
I looked back at the text, seeing her ‘shouty caps’ of YES! Before I could talk myself out things by over analyzing her text and wondering if I was doing the right thing, I tapped on the phone number, then pressed DIAL. After all, I’d started all of this the other day with putting out the impulsive dedication. I couldn’t run away now.
“Hi,” I heard as she answered the call.
I took a breath and let it out. I was on a live connection to the woman who still had my heart after all these years. Her voice was still the same, soft yet a little raspy. A little like Demi Moore’s, which probably explained why I had watched every Demi Moore film and knew every line by heart.
“Amanda,” I sighed. Saying her name—to her—was like a dream come true. “I can’t believe this,” I said, gathering my wits. “H-How are you?” I asked, almost breathlessly in complete amazement to the events as they were unfolding.
“Can’t complain,” she replied. “You?”
“Living the dream,” I answered, chiding myself for lying. Nothing about my life for the past eleven years has been my dream.
“I tried to call you the other day,” she blurted. To say that her comment surprised me was an understatement. “After I heard the song. But you changed your number.”
“Unfortunate accident with my old phone,” I explained.
“I couldn’t find any other phone number for you. And then I tried looking up your parents, but that didn’t work either.”
I was stunned. She’d made an effort to find me. I almost forgot how to speak, but somehow I managed. “Yeah, well, I’ve gone down to just the cell phone these days. And Mom and Dad moved to the shore. Fairfield, actually.”
“That’s great. Your dad must be so happy. And you? Please tell me you’re teaching,” she said excitedly. “Are all those little kids completely adorable?”
“I am,” I answered, “but the kids aren’t that adorable. Or little.”
“What?”
“I’m the Assistant Band Director at WestConn.”
“Shut up! That’s great! I always imagined you working with little kids.”
“Oh, I did that. Six years in elementary schools, three in the middle grades. I really enjoyed my stint as the high school band director. It was then when I was getting my masters in music ed that this position came available. The hours aren’t as great, but the pay and benefits are better.”
“I bet. And are you still gigging?”
“Not as much as I used to this past couple of years, but I still have my hand in it. But enough about me and my boring teaching life. What have you been up to?” I asked, needing to get the focus off of me. I knew I needed to tell Amanda about Josie and our girls, but it was messy and complicated. I hadn’t worked out just how to explain it all yet. Not without making myself look like a total douchebag.
“Well,” she started. “I interviewed with a number of companies just before I graduated; some in the Chicago area, a few in California, but it was the opportunity in New York that was the most exciting, so I’ve been in the area for seventeen years. I’m sorry. I should have called you sooner,” she said with more than a touch of sadness in her voice. I wondered if she was biting her lip the way she always did when she was unsure of things.
“I could have reached out too,” I assured her. “But hey. We’re talking now.”
She laughed. “Yes. We are.”
“So, what are you doing? Who do you work for?” I asked aiming for the light-hearted conversation we’d been having moments earlier.
“Right. So, after years of working in the trenches for great companies, I finally got in with the company I’m with now. In fact, I’m the CMO—the Chief Marketing Officer,” she explained.
“I’d say that I’m surprised, but I’m not,” I said. “I always knew you would do amazing things.”
The sound of her laugh coming through the line again was music to my ears.
“Tell me, Mr. Flattery, is there a woman you tell that to every day? Are you married?”
I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. How do I answer that question? “Nope. Not married,” was all I said. I didn’t elaborate. I kind of felt like a heel for that. “You?” I asked before she could probe further.
“Been with a guy for a few months,” she said quietly. If I thought the wind had been knocked out of me earlier, I was wrong. Now I was winded. My heart ached. “But we just ended things.” And just like that I was hopeful again.
“Oh,” was all I could say.
“I’m sorry if this seems out of left field,” she said, nerves clear in her voice, “but I’d love to see you. What are you doing tomorrow?”
My heart nearly exploded from my chest. She wanted to see me. My mind churned to come up with something witty, so I went with, “I’m taking you out to dinner, of course,” I answered, pulling up as much courage as I could. She gave a small squeal and my heart leapt. “Where would you like to go? I know a lot of great places in the city.”
“I’m open for anything. You choose,” she answered tossing the ball into my court.
“Great. I’ll see you at six?”
“Perfect. I’ll text you my address. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” I answered. “See you in less than twenty-four hours.”
“See ya.”
I hung up the phone feeling like I’d just won the lottery. Amanda wasn’t with anyone and she wanted to get together tomorrow.
Then I quickly felt myself fill with dread. What would she say when she learned of my late wife and our three girls?
Was I doing the right thing? It had been only twenty-three months since my wife Josie had her breakdown saying she never should have had any children, packed and left, leaving me with an eight-year-old, a four-year-old, and a three-month-old. I had tried desperately to track her down, but she’d pulled five-thousand dollars from our joint account and disappeared. She said she was going to go to her mother’s for a couple of months to get her head on straight, but she never arrived there. Her mother didn’t even know to expect her. I even hired a private investigator to find her, but he’d come up empty until a Jane Doe showed up in the Chicago morgue three months later. The toxicology report revealed she’d died from a combination of alcohol and heroin. Josie wasn’t a drinker, and had never done drugs, but apparently when she had hit the road, out of her mind, she’d somehow turned to the stuff. I never learned how she got there, why she went to Chicago, or how she fell into drugs. The best guess was that she suffered from severe postpartum depression. I had missed all the signs, well, that and she was very good at hiding them. Her friends assured me that she had them fooled as well. She had been a bit ‘blue’ since Julia was potty trained, and had me convinced that she was sad because she wanted another baby. Never one to deny Josie anything, I caved even though financially a third child would be a struggle. And, selfishly, I hoped we’d have a boy. Don’t get me wrong, I love my girls. More than breathing. But a boy would have been nice.
I blamed myself for all of it, of course. I’d married Josie only because our one-night-stand had resulted in the pregnancy. I cared deeply for her—but I was never in love with her. I loved Amanda. That was what I was looking and hoping for. I’d not really known Josie. I had some hopeful pie-in-the-sky notion that we’d fall in love eventually. But we didn’t go much beyond a solid partnership. The night we’d gotten together at a mutual friend’s party, I had been drinking to quiet the heartache of missing Amanda and was fed up over another failed relationship because it didn’t come close to measuring up to what I’d had with Amanda. Josie was heartbroken over her boyfriend of six-years being deployed to Iraq. They hadn’t broken up, but in the drunken haze that we both were in, we turned to each other for the comfort of a stranger. Six months later, we wed.
Shaking off my pity party of one about my past, I went to check in on my little angels to make sure they were sleeping. I shook my head when I saw that Annabelle had already kicked off her blankets. Every night. Julia was soundly asleep, and talking. Nothing unusual there.
Looking in on Suzie, however…still—nothing unusual.
Busted. Like every night for the past two months she’d been up late reading. She’d always been a reader, but it was almost problematic these days. It almost felt like she was trying to escape reality. It seemed every time I turned around, I’d catch her reading. She could be up to worse, but it broke my heart. She had always been involved with her friends, but more and more, she’d ask about her mom, and when I couldn’t give her the answers she wanted, she’d pick up a book.
“I swear, Dad. I’ll go to sleep after this chapter.”
“No swearing,” I joked, like I did every night. “Only one chapter. Remember, tomorrow is Friday which means I—”
“I know. I know,” she grumbled. “Early day so we have Before School Club.”
“And I have a student who needs a makeup lesson, so—”
“Crap!” she cursed. “I hate After School Club. Jaxson is there and he’s such a jerk!”
“Hey! What did I just say about swearing?” I admonished.
“Can’t you just give me a house key and I just come home? I promise that I won’t cook or answer the door or—”
It was my turn to cut her off. “Cupcake,” I said taking a seat on the side of her bed.
“It’s just a couple of hours. If you ask me, Jaxson picks on you because he likes you.”
“Ew, Dad! That’s gross. We’re talking about Jaxson here. The kid that actually ate a mudpie in kindergarten.”
“Boys are weird. I’m sure you’ll be changing your tune soon enough, and I’ll be changing mine, but give the kid a break, okay? Besides who will look after Julia in After School Club?”
“She’ll be with her other first grade friends. She doesn’t need me to take care of her. If Mom were here, we could both just—”
My heart broke for my little girl. It had been almost two years since her mother just up and left. Suzie seemed to handle it all so well back then, while Julia, who was four at the time, completely broke down. Seeing Julia back on track was refreshing, but I feared for Suzie now. How would she feel if she knew I was going on a date tomorrow night? “I know, Sugar. But we can’t change what’s happened. We can only work with the cards we’ve been dealt. But never forget how much she loved you, and how much I love you still.”
“I know,” she whispered sadly, then kissed my cheek. “Can I get back to my book, please?”
I glanced down at the book she was reading. The Harry Potter series. I think this was the third one in the collection. Her teacher was extremely impressed with her advanced reading skills, as was I.
“Are you sure these books don’t scare you?” I asked, not for the first time.
“They’re just fiction, Dad.”
She snuggled back into her pillows and turned on her flashlight. I kissed the top of her head and went to the door. “Love you, Cupcake.”
“Love you too, Big Cake,” she said with a smile. I turned off her bedroom light leaving her with her small spotlight.
I had to go make another phone call. My mother. I needed to ask her to watch the girls. I didn’t know what would make her happier, that she’d get some granddaughter time? Or that I was going out on a date? I decided that I would hold onto the detail that it was with Amanda. She’d never said it out loud, but I could tell Mom was disappointed that Amanda and I didn’t last forever. I didn’t want to get her hopes up. Who knew how Amanda would take the news of my marriage and children? Things might not work out after all.
CHAPTER 5
AMANDA
When Ian knocked on my door at ten-thirty, I had two thoughts.
One, “Thanks for showing up late without even a text to warn me.” I was just finishing up the last of the wine and was about ready to climb into bed. I’d tried to do more work, but I was so excited about seeing Chris tomorrow that I couldn’t focus.
My second thought was, “Thanks for showing up so I can do what I have to do without the audience of your secretary at your office tomorrow.”
After apologizing for the late hour and forgetting to send me the address of where he and Ryan had ended up going to dinner, he made himself quite comfortable. He sauntered right over to my kitchen and poured himself a nice glass of scotch before settling in on my sofa and inviting me to sit next to him. I chose to sit in my favorite wingback chair with the vintage floral print instead of next to him on the couch.
“Oh, my love!” he started excitedly. Man. I’m going to miss how he says that with his British accent. “Remember the string quartet we saw a few months ago, in March I believe?”
I nodded. How could I forget? While I enjoyed classical music and the occasional small ensemble, this group played pieces so avant-garde I hesitated to call it music. It was creative to be sure, but not melodic—to me anyway. To each her own, right?
“Well, they’re performing again this weekend. I’ll get two tickets?” He pulled out his cell phone and started tapping.
“I don’t think so, Ian.”
“Oh. You had something else in mind?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I actually made plans.” I neglected to say I’d just made these plans about two hours ago. And with an old flame.
“Oh. Where are we going?” he asked, skeptical of my choice. Good thing he wasn’t included.
“I actually don’t really know. I left the location choice up to him.”
“Him?” he asked.
“Look, Ian. You’re a great guy, but I really think you’re cut out for another woman. I think we should see other people. We’re just not compatible on any level other than business. I don’t think it’s enough.”
“What are you talking about? We’re perfect for each other.”
“No. I’m more a burgers and beer kind of gal, while you’re more steak and wine.” He eyed the glass of wine I was still nursing. “I like wine, but, you catch my drift don’t you? You know wine on a level I never will. You don’t care for my penchant for a juicy burger. You jet set all over the world, I prefer to drive. You’re contemporary quartets and I’m more billboard.”
“Oh, but, love, we can work on all those things. You’ll see.”
“What I see is someone trying to change me, Ian. I’m sure you’ll find another woman who would be more than willing to drink complicated wines with you and go to all sorts of quartets. I’m afraid it’s just not me.”
“Amanda—” he started, leaning forward to reach for my hand. My stomach lurched and almost lost some resolve with the way he said my name. However, I knew someone else who made everything quiver without saying a word.
“Ian, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Positive. Not to mention, there’s kind of a bigger thing separating us.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m thirty-eight. I want to get married and have children.”
We entered into a staring contest. He blinked first.
“Mmm,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s not something I…” His sentence trailed off. Yeah. I kind of expected that.
Ian drained his scotch and stood, offering me a hand to stand with him. Silently he walked us to the door.
“Well, Amanda. I will say you are the most remarkable woman I’ve met in New York yet. I admire you. I really do. You’re terrifically smart and I’m sure your perfect match is out there. I wish you luck in finding him. And for those babies you want.”
He kissed me quietly on the cheek and let himself out.
That was way easier than I’d expected. I watched him walk down the hall to the elevators. He pressed the call button and turned to me. The doors dinged, he winked and stepped into the elevator car. He was gone. Just like that.
I guess I didn’t mean that much to him after all. Or the thought of marriage and kids was so alarming that it sent him running, almost literally.
AMANDA
When Ian knocked on my door at ten-thirty, I had two thoughts.
One, “Thanks for showing up late without even a text to warn me.” I was just finishing up the last of the wine and was about ready to climb into bed. I’d tried to do more work, but I was so excited about seeing Chris tomorrow that I couldn’t focus.
My second thought was, “Thanks for showing up so I can do what I have to do without the audience of your secretary at your office tomorrow.”
After apologizing for the late hour and forgetting to send me the address of where he and Ryan had ended up going to dinner, he made himself quite comfortable. He sauntered right over to my kitchen and poured himself a nice glass of scotch before settling in on my sofa and inviting me to sit next to him. I chose to sit in my favorite wingback chair with the vintage floral print instead of next to him on the couch.
“Oh, my love!” he started excitedly. Man. I’m going to miss how he says that with his British accent. “Remember the string quartet we saw a few months ago, in March I believe?”
I nodded. How could I forget? While I enjoyed classical music and the occasional small ensemble, this group played pieces so avant-garde I hesitated to call it music. It was creative to be sure, but not melodic—to me anyway. To each her own, right?
“Well, they’re performing again this weekend. I’ll get two tickets?” He pulled out his cell phone and started tapping.
“I don’t think so, Ian.”
“Oh. You had something else in mind?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I actually made plans.” I neglected to say I’d just made these plans about two hours ago. And with an old flame.
“Oh. Where are we going?” he asked, skeptical of my choice. Good thing he wasn’t included.
“I actually don’t really know. I left the location choice up to him.”
“Him?” he asked.
“Look, Ian. You’re a great guy, but I really think you’re cut out for another woman. I think we should see other people. We’re just not compatible on any level other than business. I don’t think it’s enough.”
“What are you talking about? We’re perfect for each other.”
“No. I’m more a burgers and beer kind of gal, while you’re more steak and wine.” He eyed the glass of wine I was still nursing. “I like wine, but, you catch my drift don’t you? You know wine on a level I never will. You don’t care for my penchant for a juicy burger. You jet set all over the world, I prefer to drive. You’re contemporary quartets and I’m more billboard.”
“Oh, but, love, we can work on all those things. You’ll see.”
“What I see is someone trying to change me, Ian. I’m sure you’ll find another woman who would be more than willing to drink complicated wines with you and go to all sorts of quartets. I’m afraid it’s just not me.”
“Amanda—” he started, leaning forward to reach for my hand. My stomach lurched and almost lost some resolve with the way he said my name. However, I knew someone else who made everything quiver without saying a word.
“Ian, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.”
“Are you sure about this?”
“Positive. Not to mention, there’s kind of a bigger thing separating us.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m thirty-eight. I want to get married and have children.”
We entered into a staring contest. He blinked first.
“Mmm,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s not something I…” His sentence trailed off. Yeah. I kind of expected that.
Ian drained his scotch and stood, offering me a hand to stand with him. Silently he walked us to the door.
“Well, Amanda. I will say you are the most remarkable woman I’ve met in New York yet. I admire you. I really do. You’re terrifically smart and I’m sure your perfect match is out there. I wish you luck in finding him. And for those babies you want.”
He kissed me quietly on the cheek and let himself out.
That was way easier than I’d expected. I watched him walk down the hall to the elevators. He pressed the call button and turned to me. The doors dinged, he winked and stepped into the elevator car. He was gone. Just like that.
I guess I didn’t mean that much to him after all. Or the thought of marriage and kids was so alarming that it sent him running, almost literally.
CHAPTER 6
CHRIS
After the make up lesson on Friday, I practically flew out of the music building to get home. Listening to Pam on the radio, I couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. Thanks, Pam! I picked up the girls and once they were all in the car, I shared my special news.
“Guess what you’re doing tonight?” I asked, practically bursting.
“Going to the movies?” Julia asked excitedly. It was her favorite thing to do.
“Nope,” I said.
“Dad. There are literally a million things it could be. Stop making us guess stupid stuff.” Suzie was clearly irritated with Jaxson at After School Club. Julia had already shared that Jaxson wouldn’t let Suzie play basketball with his friends.
“You’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s for an overnight.”
“Really?” Suzie asked, her eyes lighting up.
“Really,” I confirmed. “Grandma even said she’d go shopping to buy what you girls needed to make cupcakes.”
“Yay!” the three sang from the back.
“And can we get some seashells?” Julia asked. My parents had moved from the home I grew up in to a shoreline home in Fairfield, just one block from the beaches of Long Island Sound. My father’s love of the beach is second only to his love of family.
“You’d have to ask Grandpa.”
“Gwappa can’t say no to me. Gwamma says so.”
I chuckled at Julia’s confidence and optimism. That, and she was probably right.
Once we got home, it was no problem getting them to pack up their bags. I asked Suzie if she wouldn’t mind helping her sisters while I took a shower. Of course when there was the opportunity for her to bake with my mother, she’d do just about anything.
As we headed to my mother’s, Suzie asked, “Those aren’t gig clothes. Where are you going?”
Couldn’t get anything past that one. “I’m meeting up with an old friend in the city,” I answered.
Julia chimed in, “You smell funny.”
“It’s called cologne,” Suzie said smugly while I wondered how in the heck she knew that. “Is your friend a girl?” she asked, practically giggling.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Oo-ooh,” the two older ones sang, and Annabelle joined right in.
“That’s enough,” I said, but really, I felt their excitement.
“Well, I’m glad you’re going on a date,” Suzie said finally.
“You are?” I asked glancing at her in the rear view mirror.
She nodded quietly and smiled back at me.
“But what does that mean?” Julia asked.
“It means I’m going out to see an old friend who happens to be a girl. The end.” I gave Suzie a pointed look to end the conversation. Thankfully she took the hint.
Once at my mom and dad’s place, the girls couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. Mom swept Annabelle into her arms and Julia joined my dad as the pair checked on her seashell collection that she kept in a box on the front porch. Suzie didn’t waste a second before she was asking about what kind of cupcakes they were going to bake.
My mom suggested that Suzie head inside and line the muffin tin with the cupcake papers, and she ran off excitedly to do so.
“So, a date. What’s her name, again?” my mom pushed. She’d tried to get me to reveal all sorts of information last night: her name, how we met, what she was like. Was she in the music business? I stuck to my guns and revealed as little as possible.
“I’ll pick up the girls tomorrow before eleven,” I confirmed.
“And I hope you’ll give me more information then,” she said with a smirk.
“We’ll see.”
CHRIS
After the make up lesson on Friday, I practically flew out of the music building to get home. Listening to Pam on the radio, I couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear. Thanks, Pam! I picked up the girls and once they were all in the car, I shared my special news.
“Guess what you’re doing tonight?” I asked, practically bursting.
“Going to the movies?” Julia asked excitedly. It was her favorite thing to do.
“Nope,” I said.
“Dad. There are literally a million things it could be. Stop making us guess stupid stuff.” Suzie was clearly irritated with Jaxson at After School Club. Julia had already shared that Jaxson wouldn’t let Suzie play basketball with his friends.
“You’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s for an overnight.”
“Really?” Suzie asked, her eyes lighting up.
“Really,” I confirmed. “Grandma even said she’d go shopping to buy what you girls needed to make cupcakes.”
“Yay!” the three sang from the back.
“And can we get some seashells?” Julia asked. My parents had moved from the home I grew up in to a shoreline home in Fairfield, just one block from the beaches of Long Island Sound. My father’s love of the beach is second only to his love of family.
“You’d have to ask Grandpa.”
“Gwappa can’t say no to me. Gwamma says so.”
I chuckled at Julia’s confidence and optimism. That, and she was probably right.
Once we got home, it was no problem getting them to pack up their bags. I asked Suzie if she wouldn’t mind helping her sisters while I took a shower. Of course when there was the opportunity for her to bake with my mother, she’d do just about anything.
As we headed to my mother’s, Suzie asked, “Those aren’t gig clothes. Where are you going?”
Couldn’t get anything past that one. “I’m meeting up with an old friend in the city,” I answered.
Julia chimed in, “You smell funny.”
“It’s called cologne,” Suzie said smugly while I wondered how in the heck she knew that. “Is your friend a girl?” she asked, practically giggling.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Oo-ooh,” the two older ones sang, and Annabelle joined right in.
“That’s enough,” I said, but really, I felt their excitement.
“Well, I’m glad you’re going on a date,” Suzie said finally.
“You are?” I asked glancing at her in the rear view mirror.
She nodded quietly and smiled back at me.
“But what does that mean?” Julia asked.
“It means I’m going out to see an old friend who happens to be a girl. The end.” I gave Suzie a pointed look to end the conversation. Thankfully she took the hint.
Once at my mom and dad’s place, the girls couldn’t get out of the car fast enough. Mom swept Annabelle into her arms and Julia joined my dad as the pair checked on her seashell collection that she kept in a box on the front porch. Suzie didn’t waste a second before she was asking about what kind of cupcakes they were going to bake.
My mom suggested that Suzie head inside and line the muffin tin with the cupcake papers, and she ran off excitedly to do so.
“So, a date. What’s her name, again?” my mom pushed. She’d tried to get me to reveal all sorts of information last night: her name, how we met, what she was like. Was she in the music business? I stuck to my guns and revealed as little as possible.
“I’ll pick up the girls tomorrow before eleven,” I confirmed.
“And I hope you’ll give me more information then,” she said with a smirk.
“We’ll see.”
As the train pulled into Grand Central Terminal, my heart raced. According to Google Maps, Amanda’s apartment was two stops north on the 6-train and it would only be about ten to fifteen minutes until I was knocking on her door.
I confirmed the table I’d claimed for six-thirty on the Open Table app and made my way to the lower level of the station to the subways.
The entire one hour and ten-minute ride in on the Metro-North train from the Fairfield Station my mind was filled with memories of Amanda. From our first official date at T.G.I.Friday’s, to the movies and parties we’d gone to, to the night we gave our virginity to each other.
Man what a night. We’d fooled around a little before that night, but we’d always been in my car with the windows steaming up, or at one of our places with either parents or a sibling around, so things never went too far. Besides, we’d both decided we wanted our first time to be special. It was just after our two year dating anniversary. New Year’s Eve, 1996. Or would you call it 1997? Regardless, that night was forever imprinted in my mind. We’d told our parents that we were headed to Jamie’s place for a party. Because of the drunk drivers on the road, we were all planning on sleeping there. Our parents were none the wiser. While the rest of our friends were at Jamie’s, I’d booked us a hotel room. God her body was amazing. Soft and curvy. Her breasts were just the right size and so responsive to my touch. We’d spent hours exploring each other’s body. Sure, we fumbled around and had a few laughs at figuring everything out, but nothing was awkward. It was magical. Our bodies fit together so perfectly. And not just that first time, but every time.
I’d never forget Spring Break our senior year when we thought Amanda was pregnant. Turned out she’d just marked her calendar wrong, but that was the first time we’d talked about having kids. I was a wreck when I thought about what she’d say when she learned that I had been married and now was the father of three girls.
Just before I got to her apartment building, I spotted a flower stand on the corner. I stopped in and picked up a giant bouquet of multi-colored tulips. I wondered if she’d remember that time she and I planted all those bulbs for my mom when we were in middle school. Mom paid us $0.10 a bulb to plant. Of course, we had to share the money, but I didn’t mind. Since then, every time I saw tulips I thought of Amanda.
At her building I had to check in with a doorman and that blew my mind. I had a couple musician friends who lived in the city, but they didn’t have doormen at their buildings. And where they lived was damn expensive. That she’s in a building with a doorman had me almost turning tail. She was an executive at the company she worked for. What would she think of me? I didn’t make a whole lot as a teacher. I made just enough that the girls and I were comfortable. Then again, Amanda was never like that. I had to trust that she was still the same girl at heart. After the doorman called up to her apartment, he gave me the okay to proceed and I took the elevator to the 11th floor.
I was just about to knock on her door, my heart hammering away at a presto, or even a scherzo tempo, when the door opened, my breath was totally taken away both from surprise, and the vision before me. I think my heart actually stopped for a moment as we both stared at one another, not saying a word, the space between us vibrating with a tangible energy.
As beautiful as Amanda had been in high school, she was ten times that now. Gone were the bangs that framed her face twenty years ago yet her chestnut hair still flowed in gentle waves over her shoulders and she stood with a confidence as if she owned the world. She probably did. Her eyes seemed bluer and her lips pinker. Not gonna lie, her body had gone from beautiful to unbelievable; she was more curvy and didn’t look as fragile as she had back in high school.
I’d hoped she’d not changed much, but now I was glad she had.
Suddenly, I was a bit self-conscious about my own body and how I had aged. I had been putting in a lot of hours in the school’s fitness center, it was a healthy way for me to cope with Josie’s abandonment and the stress of raising three girls on my own. That said, I’d also had my fair share of birthday cakes and chicken nuggets. And just last week I’d spied the start of my hair starting to grey.
CHAPTER 7
AMANDA
I had been pacing my apartment since five-thirty and changed clothes no fewer than four times. When Nick, the doorman, called up to tell me that ‘Mr. McMurray’ was here, I started to panic. I took one last look at myself in the mirror and decided the jeans and pink, silk top would have to do.
When several minutes had passed, I went to check the hallway. Finding Chris on the other side of the door holding the most gorgeous bouquet of tulips I had ever seen, had me reeling. His smile shot straight to my heart and then down to between my legs. Chris hadn’t changed much, but he’d changed. In high school he’d always been on the leaner side, although now, he looked like he worked out some. I’m not gonna lie, I was afraid that he’d somehow fallen into the middle aged habit of drinking beer and watching sports ad nauseam as many of my co-workers had done, developing a beer belly. His hair was still a thick, artsy mop of dark brown, but shorter than how he wore it back in high school. I longed to run my fingers through those locks again. There were some crinkles around his eyes and mouth as though he laughed a lot. I’d missed the sound of his laugh.
And oh hell, that mouth. My lips tingled to touch his. No one kisses like a trumpeter.
“Wow,” he finally said breaking the silence.
“Um, I know, just.” Suddenly I realized that we were still standing in my doorway. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, making you stand out here. Come in. Please!” I stepped back to allow him to walk in. As he passed me his scent filled my nose. He was wearing a new cologne, but there was still a hint of the Chris I once knew. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t want to throw myself at him either. Why did I feel so awkward?
“These are for you,” he said once inside and I had closed the door.
“Tulips. My favorite. I still remember that day in seventh grade when we planted—what was it? Ninety-six tulip bulbs for your mother?”
“How could I forget?” he said. “Nine dollars and sixty cents.”
“How is she? And your dad?” I asked, heading to the kitchen to find a vase and put the flowers in water. “You said they moved to Fairfield?”
“Yeah. Do you remember Dad and his boat dreams? Well, they have that boat, too, now. They live just a block away from the beach. Dad is out on the water almost every day if he can be. And Mom is still baking and gardening. Their house was featured in some garden tour the town does every year.”
I put the flowers in water, sighing at the soft colors and gentle arc of the stems, and spied on Chris as he looked around my apartment.
“Nice place,” he said. I felt a bit embarrassed. I knew teachers, even college professors didn’t make very much. This place, while extravagant, was in budget for my salary. Awkwardly I wished we’d met on neutral territory.
“Thanks,” was all I could say, joining him by the windows that overlooked Central park.
“Well, we have a little time. I made reservations for six-thirty. A place that’s only about a block or so from here,” he said. Inwardly I groaned. Reservations. I checked out what Chris was wearing and panicked. He was wearing slacks, and a tie.
“Do I need to change clothes?” I asked.
“No. You look fantastic. I probably overdressed. Nervous to see you, if I’m honest. Wanted to put my best foot forward.”
“Nervous?”
“Of course. Not every day you get the opportunity to go out with the one that got away.” Carefully, he took my hand. My pulse raced and there was the old, recognizable zap when our hands touched. I thought I’d made that up in my head when remembering him yesterday, but nope. Still there.
I felt myself blush.
“I couldn’t believe it when I heard that dedication the other day,” I confessed. “Had to pull the car over and get my head together.” Somehow it was easier on the phone, confidently telling him that I’d tried to call him. But now, standing in front of him… Standing this close to Chris was doing things to me that I’d not felt in a very long time. Like, twenty years.
He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch burning my skin and sparking like a match on a strike plate. His warm, gentle hand cupped the side of my face. I couldn’t help but lean into that familiar touch.
Our eyes searched each other’s and it was like we were back in time. Like nothing had changed. I don’t know who moved first, him or me, but our lips were soon pressed together and I was exactly where I needed to be, for the first time in way too long. My hands went to his chest and I felt a nicely developed muscles under my fingers.
The gentle kiss quickly morphed into one loaded with heated and desperate need. Exactly the kind of kiss that got us into trouble back in high school. And suddenly, I had no desire to go out. I wanted to drag Chris back to my bedroom and get into a whole lot of trouble with him.
Chris pulled back first and rested his forehead against mine. We both were breathing hard and then he panted, “Sorry, but if we don’t stop, I have a feeling we’ll never get out of here. I mean, we could order in, but I kinda wanted to take you to this place that’s one of my favorites in the city.”
Chris’ phone pinged with a message and he stiffened. “You check your message. I’m going to grab my purse and then we can head out, yeah?”
As I collected my purse I watched Chris out of the corner of my eye. Who could be sending him a text that would make him nervous? He said he wasn’t married. I watched the smile on his face as he looked at the message and he typed back a response. Just because he wasn’t married didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend. Maybe he just wasn’t exclusive with her? Maybe he had a bunch of girlfriends around. He certainly had the looks to be the eye candy for women even half my age. An unfamiliar riot of jealousy started to bubble up within me. I had to mentally slap myself. Stop it, Amanda. You’re overreacting. You hadn’t even really thought about Chris in ten years. You have no right to be jealous.
He tucked the phone in his pocket and we headed out as I tried to put my doubts and jealousy aside.
As we headed down to the street and into the warm June night to wherever Chris was taking me, I asked who he was still in contact with from high school. The number had dwindled to just a few, but I felt like crap for losing touch with so many people.
Finally, he stopped in front of The Grill Pub, and I said “Are you kidding me?”
“What? I’m sorry, are you vegetarian or something now? I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask. I just remembered how much you loved a good burger and it’s one of my favorite places and—” He looked positively horrified.
“No,” I assured him. “It’s just that this is my favorite place. They have the best burgers in the city.”
“Oh good,” he said, relaxing, and we headed inside. When Chris put his hand on my lower back to escort me in, a shiver ran through me.
Chris had already put a table on hold for us and we were seated immediately. Imagine my surprise when staff recognized Chris. They recognized me as well, but I ate here at least once a week for the past five years. How often had he been coming here? We both wondered if we’d been in this place at the same time. We laughed at the impossible odds and placed our orders right away.
Chris pulled his phone from his pocket, checked the screen and set it face down on the table.
AMANDA
I had been pacing my apartment since five-thirty and changed clothes no fewer than four times. When Nick, the doorman, called up to tell me that ‘Mr. McMurray’ was here, I started to panic. I took one last look at myself in the mirror and decided the jeans and pink, silk top would have to do.
When several minutes had passed, I went to check the hallway. Finding Chris on the other side of the door holding the most gorgeous bouquet of tulips I had ever seen, had me reeling. His smile shot straight to my heart and then down to between my legs. Chris hadn’t changed much, but he’d changed. In high school he’d always been on the leaner side, although now, he looked like he worked out some. I’m not gonna lie, I was afraid that he’d somehow fallen into the middle aged habit of drinking beer and watching sports ad nauseam as many of my co-workers had done, developing a beer belly. His hair was still a thick, artsy mop of dark brown, but shorter than how he wore it back in high school. I longed to run my fingers through those locks again. There were some crinkles around his eyes and mouth as though he laughed a lot. I’d missed the sound of his laugh.
And oh hell, that mouth. My lips tingled to touch his. No one kisses like a trumpeter.
“Wow,” he finally said breaking the silence.
“Um, I know, just.” Suddenly I realized that we were still standing in my doorway. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, making you stand out here. Come in. Please!” I stepped back to allow him to walk in. As he passed me his scent filled my nose. He was wearing a new cologne, but there was still a hint of the Chris I once knew. I wanted to hug him, but I didn’t want to throw myself at him either. Why did I feel so awkward?
“These are for you,” he said once inside and I had closed the door.
“Tulips. My favorite. I still remember that day in seventh grade when we planted—what was it? Ninety-six tulip bulbs for your mother?”
“How could I forget?” he said. “Nine dollars and sixty cents.”
“How is she? And your dad?” I asked, heading to the kitchen to find a vase and put the flowers in water. “You said they moved to Fairfield?”
“Yeah. Do you remember Dad and his boat dreams? Well, they have that boat, too, now. They live just a block away from the beach. Dad is out on the water almost every day if he can be. And Mom is still baking and gardening. Their house was featured in some garden tour the town does every year.”
I put the flowers in water, sighing at the soft colors and gentle arc of the stems, and spied on Chris as he looked around my apartment.
“Nice place,” he said. I felt a bit embarrassed. I knew teachers, even college professors didn’t make very much. This place, while extravagant, was in budget for my salary. Awkwardly I wished we’d met on neutral territory.
“Thanks,” was all I could say, joining him by the windows that overlooked Central park.
“Well, we have a little time. I made reservations for six-thirty. A place that’s only about a block or so from here,” he said. Inwardly I groaned. Reservations. I checked out what Chris was wearing and panicked. He was wearing slacks, and a tie.
“Do I need to change clothes?” I asked.
“No. You look fantastic. I probably overdressed. Nervous to see you, if I’m honest. Wanted to put my best foot forward.”
“Nervous?”
“Of course. Not every day you get the opportunity to go out with the one that got away.” Carefully, he took my hand. My pulse raced and there was the old, recognizable zap when our hands touched. I thought I’d made that up in my head when remembering him yesterday, but nope. Still there.
I felt myself blush.
“I couldn’t believe it when I heard that dedication the other day,” I confessed. “Had to pull the car over and get my head together.” Somehow it was easier on the phone, confidently telling him that I’d tried to call him. But now, standing in front of him… Standing this close to Chris was doing things to me that I’d not felt in a very long time. Like, twenty years.
He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, his touch burning my skin and sparking like a match on a strike plate. His warm, gentle hand cupped the side of my face. I couldn’t help but lean into that familiar touch.
Our eyes searched each other’s and it was like we were back in time. Like nothing had changed. I don’t know who moved first, him or me, but our lips were soon pressed together and I was exactly where I needed to be, for the first time in way too long. My hands went to his chest and I felt a nicely developed muscles under my fingers.
The gentle kiss quickly morphed into one loaded with heated and desperate need. Exactly the kind of kiss that got us into trouble back in high school. And suddenly, I had no desire to go out. I wanted to drag Chris back to my bedroom and get into a whole lot of trouble with him.
Chris pulled back first and rested his forehead against mine. We both were breathing hard and then he panted, “Sorry, but if we don’t stop, I have a feeling we’ll never get out of here. I mean, we could order in, but I kinda wanted to take you to this place that’s one of my favorites in the city.”
Chris’ phone pinged with a message and he stiffened. “You check your message. I’m going to grab my purse and then we can head out, yeah?”
As I collected my purse I watched Chris out of the corner of my eye. Who could be sending him a text that would make him nervous? He said he wasn’t married. I watched the smile on his face as he looked at the message and he typed back a response. Just because he wasn’t married didn’t mean he didn’t have a girlfriend. Maybe he just wasn’t exclusive with her? Maybe he had a bunch of girlfriends around. He certainly had the looks to be the eye candy for women even half my age. An unfamiliar riot of jealousy started to bubble up within me. I had to mentally slap myself. Stop it, Amanda. You’re overreacting. You hadn’t even really thought about Chris in ten years. You have no right to be jealous.
He tucked the phone in his pocket and we headed out as I tried to put my doubts and jealousy aside.
As we headed down to the street and into the warm June night to wherever Chris was taking me, I asked who he was still in contact with from high school. The number had dwindled to just a few, but I felt like crap for losing touch with so many people.
Finally, he stopped in front of The Grill Pub, and I said “Are you kidding me?”
“What? I’m sorry, are you vegetarian or something now? I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask. I just remembered how much you loved a good burger and it’s one of my favorite places and—” He looked positively horrified.
“No,” I assured him. “It’s just that this is my favorite place. They have the best burgers in the city.”
“Oh good,” he said, relaxing, and we headed inside. When Chris put his hand on my lower back to escort me in, a shiver ran through me.
Chris had already put a table on hold for us and we were seated immediately. Imagine my surprise when staff recognized Chris. They recognized me as well, but I ate here at least once a week for the past five years. How often had he been coming here? We both wondered if we’d been in this place at the same time. We laughed at the impossible odds and placed our orders right away.
Chris pulled his phone from his pocket, checked the screen and set it face down on the table.
CHAPTER 8
CHRIS
“Sorry,” I apologized. I hated cell phones on the table, but it was just a ‘Dad Move’ that I did.
“So everything okay? That text back at the apartment?” Amanda asked pointing at the device.
“Yeah, was a good text, but you never know. It was Mom.”
“Oh!” she said her eyes wide and a big smile soon joined those wide eyes. “Sorry, I thought…well, for just a minute, but… Never mind,” she sputtered, then drank half of the glass of water the busboy had just put in front of her.
“You thought what?” I asked. I thought I knew, but it was kind of fun watching her squirm a bit.
“That maybe you had another girl… I mean, I know you said you weren’t married, but thought maybe you had a girlfriend and weren’t exclusive with her so… Oh never mind me. I’m just being silly.”
I bit my lip and considered my next move. I took a breath and let it out, hoping I’d been reading all the signs and feelings from the past half hour right; that Amanda and I were still destined to be with one another. “Actually, I have three girls.” Amanda’s eyes bugged out of her head. “That text was about the youngest one.” Her look of surprise quickly turned to one of confusion.
I opened my phone and the text Mom had sent, which was an adorable picture of Annabelle with frosting all over her face and showed it to Amanda.
“Wait. I’m confused.”
“That’s Annabelle. She turned two a couple months ago. And this,” I said, taking the phone back and opening the photo app, found the folder with all my favorite photos of the girls. “This one is Julia. She’s six. And Suzie is ten.” I carefully watched Amanda process what I’d just revealed.
“They’re…your daughters?” she asked carefully. My heart stood still as I watched to see if I had just thrown everything away. It might have been too early to tell Amanda, but I hated hiding things from her. We were either going to work or we weren’t. My daughters were a part of me—1,000%. Non-negotiable.
Amanda swallowed and licked her lips then chewed on the top one, like she was trying to understand chemistry—which she had been terrible at back in high school.
“And their mother?” she asked hesitantly.
I was given a quick reprieve as our beers were delivered. I took a sip of mine and decided the full story was best. I finished the story just as our burgers were set in front of us.
“Wow,” she sighed. “Lemme see those girls again?” I selected a picture of the three of them from a couple months ago at Annabelle’s birthday party. She studied the photo and smiled. “They’re beautiful. You’ve done an amazing job with them.”
Amanda turned her attention to her burger and I was left wondering what was going through Amanda’s head.
“So…” I said, trying to pull something from her.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she said after she finished her bite.
“I realize that. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said. “Don’t apologize for those three gifts.”
“Never. I just meant that I should have told you on the phone. It might have changed what the two of us were doing tonight.”
She paused and contemplated. “I’d like to say no, but maybe. But I think this way was better though. I needed to see you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It’s not been easy.”
Fortunately, the phone stayed silent for the next hour and Amanda and I were back in sync, like we’d been in high school. No secrets. Reminiscing, laughing, poking fun at one another, and finishing each other’s sentences. I tried to not talk too much about the girls, but they are a huge part of my life and that will never change.
As we finished our dinners, and I ‘battled with Amanda’ over the check, I told her about a club a couple of my buddies were playing at tonight and asked if she wanted to go. I was slightly thrown when she asked if it were a contemporary string quartet, but I assured her it wasn’t. Just horns and drums—sometimes a set of keys. She seemed excited and I couldn’t be happier. Josie hated the gigs. Even when I was playing. How had we made it as far as we had?
On the cab ride to the club, another text came in.
Sorry to interrupt, but Julia insisted on texting you before going to bed. Can you please tell her goodnight real quick?
Sweet Julia. She always said she can’t have sweet dreams unless I told her to. So I quickly texted her Goodnight, Ladybug. Sweet dreams.
Two seconds later, Mom texted back with a photo of Julia puckering up her lips and her eyes squeezed tight sending me a kiss. She said, Goodnight, Daddybug. We won’t bother you again. Hope you’re having a good time on your date.
“You’re a good father,” Amanda said softly.
CHRIS
“Sorry,” I apologized. I hated cell phones on the table, but it was just a ‘Dad Move’ that I did.
“So everything okay? That text back at the apartment?” Amanda asked pointing at the device.
“Yeah, was a good text, but you never know. It was Mom.”
“Oh!” she said her eyes wide and a big smile soon joined those wide eyes. “Sorry, I thought…well, for just a minute, but… Never mind,” she sputtered, then drank half of the glass of water the busboy had just put in front of her.
“You thought what?” I asked. I thought I knew, but it was kind of fun watching her squirm a bit.
“That maybe you had another girl… I mean, I know you said you weren’t married, but thought maybe you had a girlfriend and weren’t exclusive with her so… Oh never mind me. I’m just being silly.”
I bit my lip and considered my next move. I took a breath and let it out, hoping I’d been reading all the signs and feelings from the past half hour right; that Amanda and I were still destined to be with one another. “Actually, I have three girls.” Amanda’s eyes bugged out of her head. “That text was about the youngest one.” Her look of surprise quickly turned to one of confusion.
I opened my phone and the text Mom had sent, which was an adorable picture of Annabelle with frosting all over her face and showed it to Amanda.
“Wait. I’m confused.”
“That’s Annabelle. She turned two a couple months ago. And this,” I said, taking the phone back and opening the photo app, found the folder with all my favorite photos of the girls. “This one is Julia. She’s six. And Suzie is ten.” I carefully watched Amanda process what I’d just revealed.
“They’re…your daughters?” she asked carefully. My heart stood still as I watched to see if I had just thrown everything away. It might have been too early to tell Amanda, but I hated hiding things from her. We were either going to work or we weren’t. My daughters were a part of me—1,000%. Non-negotiable.
Amanda swallowed and licked her lips then chewed on the top one, like she was trying to understand chemistry—which she had been terrible at back in high school.
“And their mother?” she asked hesitantly.
I was given a quick reprieve as our beers were delivered. I took a sip of mine and decided the full story was best. I finished the story just as our burgers were set in front of us.
“Wow,” she sighed. “Lemme see those girls again?” I selected a picture of the three of them from a couple months ago at Annabelle’s birthday party. She studied the photo and smiled. “They’re beautiful. You’ve done an amazing job with them.”
Amanda turned her attention to her burger and I was left wondering what was going through Amanda’s head.
“So…” I said, trying to pull something from her.
“It’s a lot to take in,” she said after she finished her bite.
“I realize that. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she said. “Don’t apologize for those three gifts.”
“Never. I just meant that I should have told you on the phone. It might have changed what the two of us were doing tonight.”
She paused and contemplated. “I’d like to say no, but maybe. But I think this way was better though. I needed to see you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.”
“It’s not been easy.”
Fortunately, the phone stayed silent for the next hour and Amanda and I were back in sync, like we’d been in high school. No secrets. Reminiscing, laughing, poking fun at one another, and finishing each other’s sentences. I tried to not talk too much about the girls, but they are a huge part of my life and that will never change.
As we finished our dinners, and I ‘battled with Amanda’ over the check, I told her about a club a couple of my buddies were playing at tonight and asked if she wanted to go. I was slightly thrown when she asked if it were a contemporary string quartet, but I assured her it wasn’t. Just horns and drums—sometimes a set of keys. She seemed excited and I couldn’t be happier. Josie hated the gigs. Even when I was playing. How had we made it as far as we had?
On the cab ride to the club, another text came in.
Sorry to interrupt, but Julia insisted on texting you before going to bed. Can you please tell her goodnight real quick?
Sweet Julia. She always said she can’t have sweet dreams unless I told her to. So I quickly texted her Goodnight, Ladybug. Sweet dreams.
Two seconds later, Mom texted back with a photo of Julia puckering up her lips and her eyes squeezed tight sending me a kiss. She said, Goodnight, Daddybug. We won’t bother you again. Hope you’re having a good time on your date.
“You’re a good father,” Amanda said softly.
CHAPTER 9
AMANDA
I couldn’t say that Chris’ revelation shocked me. Of course he would have been married and had children. He was absolutely the type. Although I was sad that he’d not married for love, I admired him for stepping up to fatherhood the way he had. And his daughters were beautiful. The oldest and the youngest looked a lot like Chris, the middle girl looked, I assumed, more like their mother.
More than that, he was a good dad just like I knew he’d be. Texting goodnight to his girls…his daughter calling him ‘Daddybug.’ My heart ached. Selfishly, it was the life I’d always imagined for us.
The past forty-some-odd hours I’d been imagining reuniting with Chris, picking right up where we’d left off, and finally getting our happily-ever-after with our own kids. Now there were three other lives to consider. Would I even fit in?
We arrived at the club. Chris paid the driver and we headed into the dark club.
The music was fantastic, the company was even better. When the band took a break, Chris introduced me and we all chatted for a while. His friends were a lot of fun and included me in their conversations. One of them, I think it was Jack? (Or Jake?) made a mention of Suzie, and her dance recital last week, then looked alarmed at what he had said.
“It’s okay, I’m up to speed,” I assured him. He relaxed and smiled while Chris squeezed the hand he hadn’t let go of all night.
In the cab ride home, admittedly, I grew a little quiet.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Chris offered.
“Not sure they’re worth that much.”
“I’m sure they’re worth at least double.”
“Do you date often?” I blurted. I didn’t even know where that question came from.
He shook his head. “No. Women aren’t usually looking for a ready-made family.”
He looked so sad. “I wouldn’t say no women,” I offered. His eyes opened with surprise.
Oh no! Did he think I was telling him that I didn’t mind being a stepmother? Did I mind? Maybe not. It’s not like I’d have the girls’ mother around to ‘compete’ with. However I would be competing with her ghost, which might be more intimidating. Although from the sounds of it, she wasn’t a very happy woman. I next found myself saying. “I’d love to meet them one day. Your girls. Is that water park in Middlebury still open?” I surprised myself that I was just inserting myself into their lives. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push in like that—”
“They’d love that,” Chris interrupted, his warm smile immediately putting me at ease. He must have known I still had a tendency to ramble when I was nervous. He took my hand. “I’m forever telling the girls ‘no’ about going to that place,” he continued. “You’d be their hero.”
I chuckled at the thought of being a hero to a first and fourth-grader. “When’s their last day of school?”
“Next week actually. June fourteenth.”
“Let’s make it for then? Or is that too soon?”
“Not soon enough in their books. Or mine,” he added, pinning me with his eyes.
AMANDA
I couldn’t say that Chris’ revelation shocked me. Of course he would have been married and had children. He was absolutely the type. Although I was sad that he’d not married for love, I admired him for stepping up to fatherhood the way he had. And his daughters were beautiful. The oldest and the youngest looked a lot like Chris, the middle girl looked, I assumed, more like their mother.
More than that, he was a good dad just like I knew he’d be. Texting goodnight to his girls…his daughter calling him ‘Daddybug.’ My heart ached. Selfishly, it was the life I’d always imagined for us.
The past forty-some-odd hours I’d been imagining reuniting with Chris, picking right up where we’d left off, and finally getting our happily-ever-after with our own kids. Now there were three other lives to consider. Would I even fit in?
We arrived at the club. Chris paid the driver and we headed into the dark club.
The music was fantastic, the company was even better. When the band took a break, Chris introduced me and we all chatted for a while. His friends were a lot of fun and included me in their conversations. One of them, I think it was Jack? (Or Jake?) made a mention of Suzie, and her dance recital last week, then looked alarmed at what he had said.
“It’s okay, I’m up to speed,” I assured him. He relaxed and smiled while Chris squeezed the hand he hadn’t let go of all night.
In the cab ride home, admittedly, I grew a little quiet.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Chris offered.
“Not sure they’re worth that much.”
“I’m sure they’re worth at least double.”
“Do you date often?” I blurted. I didn’t even know where that question came from.
He shook his head. “No. Women aren’t usually looking for a ready-made family.”
He looked so sad. “I wouldn’t say no women,” I offered. His eyes opened with surprise.
Oh no! Did he think I was telling him that I didn’t mind being a stepmother? Did I mind? Maybe not. It’s not like I’d have the girls’ mother around to ‘compete’ with. However I would be competing with her ghost, which might be more intimidating. Although from the sounds of it, she wasn’t a very happy woman. I next found myself saying. “I’d love to meet them one day. Your girls. Is that water park in Middlebury still open?” I surprised myself that I was just inserting myself into their lives. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push in like that—”
“They’d love that,” Chris interrupted, his warm smile immediately putting me at ease. He must have known I still had a tendency to ramble when I was nervous. He took my hand. “I’m forever telling the girls ‘no’ about going to that place,” he continued. “You’d be their hero.”
I chuckled at the thought of being a hero to a first and fourth-grader. “When’s their last day of school?”
“Next week actually. June fourteenth.”
“Let’s make it for then? Or is that too soon?”
“Not soon enough in their books. Or mine,” he added, pinning me with his eyes.
We got back to my apartment around one-thirty in the morning. I couldn’t remember the last time I was out so long, and didn’t want to get back home. Well, get back home yes, but not ready for the date to end. Not by a long shot.
“Would you like to come up for a drink?” I offered. Chris had already told me that his daughters were spending the night with his parents, so I knew he didn’t have to race back to Connecticut to let a babysitter go home.
“Love to.”
As we made our way to my apartment, I couldn’t help but think of the kiss we’d shared before dinner. He kissed better than he had back in high school… Had his performance in bed also improved? I never had any complaints back then. He’d always been caring and tender. He made sure I was satisfied. He was a better lover in high school than some of the adult men I’d been intimate with.
Once inside my apartment, not three seconds after closing the door, Chris had me pinned up against the door and damn if he didn’t make my knees weak and my pulse race. Everything about his kiss was familiar, yet new and made me want more. So. Much. More.
When he pulled away, his hands gripping my hips and his forehead resting on mine, I was completely breathless and turned on more than I wanted to admit.
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you,” he said, panting, his hot breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine.
Without another word, I took his hand and led him to my bedroom.
“Would you like to come up for a drink?” I offered. Chris had already told me that his daughters were spending the night with his parents, so I knew he didn’t have to race back to Connecticut to let a babysitter go home.
“Love to.”
As we made our way to my apartment, I couldn’t help but think of the kiss we’d shared before dinner. He kissed better than he had back in high school… Had his performance in bed also improved? I never had any complaints back then. He’d always been caring and tender. He made sure I was satisfied. He was a better lover in high school than some of the adult men I’d been intimate with.
Once inside my apartment, not three seconds after closing the door, Chris had me pinned up against the door and damn if he didn’t make my knees weak and my pulse race. Everything about his kiss was familiar, yet new and made me want more. So. Much. More.
When he pulled away, his hands gripping my hips and his forehead resting on mine, I was completely breathless and turned on more than I wanted to admit.
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you,” he said, panting, his hot breath on my neck sending shivers down my spine.
Without another word, I took his hand and led him to my bedroom.
CHAPTER 10
CHRIS
As Amanda led us through her sophisticated apartment toward what I assumed was the bedroom, I was suddenly more nervous than the time we’d lost our virginity to each other. I wondered if I would have the restraint to take my time and please her the way she deserved. It had been way too long since I’d been with a woman. And I never felt half of what I was feeling with Amanda. I was ready to explode just from kissing her.
Stepping into her bedroom, she dragged me to her bed and pushed me back onto it. In the silvery moonlight streaming into the space, her eyes were bright and hungry. Slowly and with a sexy dose of confidence, she unbuttoned her shirt, biting her lower lip, her eyes unwavering. This was an Amanda I’d never known, and I liked it.
She pulled the delicate silk from her shoulders and let it float to the floor revealing the most sensational body I’d ever seen. Long gone were the immature planes of her 18 year old body. Her curves had filled out yielding to full breasts barely contained behind the lacy bra. Her waist was still narrow but flared with the sexiest curve at her hips.
Unable to hold back, I sat up, took hold of her hips, and pressed my lips to her belly just above her navel. Slowly I inhaled, remembering her scent even after all these years. I kissed my way upward until I reached her gorgeous tits and ran my tongue over the turgid nipple behind the delicate lace. My hands had slid up her smooth skin as if they knew they were on familiar ground and knew precisely what to do.
She sighed softly and I was encouraged. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her to the bed and rolled on top of her. The vision under me was stunning. Her hair flared behind her, created a chestnut halo around her head. Her chest heaved with each breath, and she pressed her hips up into my raging erection.
I needed her like I’d never needed anything else in my life. The intensity of urgency I felt with her was almost scary. Her breathing had picked up and as I gazed into her eyes, I knew we were exactly where we needed to be.
She reached up and started unbuttoning my shirt. When her dainty fingers ran down the planes of my chest I groaned at her touch. I knew that touch, those fingers… I ‘stood up’ on my knees and finished the job, pulling the shirt from my body and tossing it on the floor to join hers. She let her hands roam over me and I let her, reveling in her touch.
Hungry to touch her again, I leaned down and started to re-map every inch of her neck, belly, and breasts with my lips. I could have stayed there forever. Oh how I had missed her.
“Chris, please…” she begged.
It was the only invitation I needed. As swiftly as I could, I unbuttoned her jeans and peeled her out of them. Then, after fishing out the condoms I had stuffed in my pocket, just in case, dropped my pants to the ground as she shimmied up the bed and settled on the pillows.
CHRIS
As Amanda led us through her sophisticated apartment toward what I assumed was the bedroom, I was suddenly more nervous than the time we’d lost our virginity to each other. I wondered if I would have the restraint to take my time and please her the way she deserved. It had been way too long since I’d been with a woman. And I never felt half of what I was feeling with Amanda. I was ready to explode just from kissing her.
Stepping into her bedroom, she dragged me to her bed and pushed me back onto it. In the silvery moonlight streaming into the space, her eyes were bright and hungry. Slowly and with a sexy dose of confidence, she unbuttoned her shirt, biting her lower lip, her eyes unwavering. This was an Amanda I’d never known, and I liked it.
She pulled the delicate silk from her shoulders and let it float to the floor revealing the most sensational body I’d ever seen. Long gone were the immature planes of her 18 year old body. Her curves had filled out yielding to full breasts barely contained behind the lacy bra. Her waist was still narrow but flared with the sexiest curve at her hips.
Unable to hold back, I sat up, took hold of her hips, and pressed my lips to her belly just above her navel. Slowly I inhaled, remembering her scent even after all these years. I kissed my way upward until I reached her gorgeous tits and ran my tongue over the turgid nipple behind the delicate lace. My hands had slid up her smooth skin as if they knew they were on familiar ground and knew precisely what to do.
She sighed softly and I was encouraged. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her to the bed and rolled on top of her. The vision under me was stunning. Her hair flared behind her, created a chestnut halo around her head. Her chest heaved with each breath, and she pressed her hips up into my raging erection.
I needed her like I’d never needed anything else in my life. The intensity of urgency I felt with her was almost scary. Her breathing had picked up and as I gazed into her eyes, I knew we were exactly where we needed to be.
She reached up and started unbuttoning my shirt. When her dainty fingers ran down the planes of my chest I groaned at her touch. I knew that touch, those fingers… I ‘stood up’ on my knees and finished the job, pulling the shirt from my body and tossing it on the floor to join hers. She let her hands roam over me and I let her, reveling in her touch.
Hungry to touch her again, I leaned down and started to re-map every inch of her neck, belly, and breasts with my lips. I could have stayed there forever. Oh how I had missed her.
“Chris, please…” she begged.
It was the only invitation I needed. As swiftly as I could, I unbuttoned her jeans and peeled her out of them. Then, after fishing out the condoms I had stuffed in my pocket, just in case, dropped my pants to the ground as she shimmied up the bed and settled on the pillows.
CHAPTER 11
AMANDA
Seeing Chris standing at the foot of my bed had me flashing back to when we were in high school and that first time we made love in the hotel after prom. I was nervous and excited. I loved the hungry look in his eye as he regarded me as I lay clad in only my bra and panties. Now he was more confident than back in our early days.
He climbed onto the bed and started to plant little kisses on the insides of my legs working his way upward to my center. Occasionally he would take a little lick or nip. It was like he was making a meal out of me. He was driving me out of my mind. I’d been with a number of guys over the past twenty years, but none ever made me feel like this. Chris just had this… way. I felt extremely special and cared for. Like he wanted me more than he wanted to breathe. It was exhilarating.
When he reached the edge of my panties which I’m sure were soaking with anticipation, he clamped his mouth over me. He teased me through that fabric, moaning as his hands pinned my hips down.
I was screaming in my head for him to fuck me, use me, when his fingers curled around the elastic that held my panties on and he started to pull them down. When he realized that he was the obstacle to removing them, he did something I never expected. He tore them! I gasped but that was immediately replaced with my moans as his mouth now made direct contact with my clit. My spine tingled and I neared climax again. When he slipped a finger inside, my hips pushed up of their own volition, practically fucking his finger. With expert precision, he found that spot. The mysterious G-spot. The one we’d looked up on the internet. Faster than that first night he’d tried to find it, he found that spot and worked me into a frenzy as I exploded, shattering into a million pieces, coming in waves, his mouth never relenting. It was like old times, only so much better.
“I love making you come,” he growled as I came back down to earth, still kissing the insides of my thighs, knowing just what to do… just how to care for me.
I looked down to see him reach for the corner of the bed and pick up a foil square. I watched as he fumbled with tearing it open, then nearly dropping the rubber, and muttered, “Sorry. Slippery fingers,” a sly grin spreading across his face.
“Here, let me,” I said taking the packet from him. “But first…”
I tugged at his arms, pulling him to me for a kiss. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue, and then pushed at him so that he would lay down on the bed, and I settled myself in between his legs.
One thing when we were young… I never wanted to be on top. Chris had asked, but I was shy. Still felt that way. But not anymore, not with Chris anyway. I wanted Chris, and I wanted to please him more than anything.
First though, I took him into my mouth. Normally, I didn’t like giving blowjobs, but after the orgasm he’d just given me, I had to. I wanted to taste him and drive him to the edge of insanity—the place he’d just taken me.
“Oh, Amanda,” he groaned. “I don’t have that kind of strength at the moment. Can we save that for another time. I’m not gonna last if you continue.”
I obliged and tore open the square. I rolled the latex over his length which I’m certain was bigger than it used to be.
AMANDA
Seeing Chris standing at the foot of my bed had me flashing back to when we were in high school and that first time we made love in the hotel after prom. I was nervous and excited. I loved the hungry look in his eye as he regarded me as I lay clad in only my bra and panties. Now he was more confident than back in our early days.
He climbed onto the bed and started to plant little kisses on the insides of my legs working his way upward to my center. Occasionally he would take a little lick or nip. It was like he was making a meal out of me. He was driving me out of my mind. I’d been with a number of guys over the past twenty years, but none ever made me feel like this. Chris just had this… way. I felt extremely special and cared for. Like he wanted me more than he wanted to breathe. It was exhilarating.
When he reached the edge of my panties which I’m sure were soaking with anticipation, he clamped his mouth over me. He teased me through that fabric, moaning as his hands pinned my hips down.
I was screaming in my head for him to fuck me, use me, when his fingers curled around the elastic that held my panties on and he started to pull them down. When he realized that he was the obstacle to removing them, he did something I never expected. He tore them! I gasped but that was immediately replaced with my moans as his mouth now made direct contact with my clit. My spine tingled and I neared climax again. When he slipped a finger inside, my hips pushed up of their own volition, practically fucking his finger. With expert precision, he found that spot. The mysterious G-spot. The one we’d looked up on the internet. Faster than that first night he’d tried to find it, he found that spot and worked me into a frenzy as I exploded, shattering into a million pieces, coming in waves, his mouth never relenting. It was like old times, only so much better.
“I love making you come,” he growled as I came back down to earth, still kissing the insides of my thighs, knowing just what to do… just how to care for me.
I looked down to see him reach for the corner of the bed and pick up a foil square. I watched as he fumbled with tearing it open, then nearly dropping the rubber, and muttered, “Sorry. Slippery fingers,” a sly grin spreading across his face.
“Here, let me,” I said taking the packet from him. “But first…”
I tugged at his arms, pulling him to me for a kiss. I tasted myself on his lips and tongue, and then pushed at him so that he would lay down on the bed, and I settled myself in between his legs.
One thing when we were young… I never wanted to be on top. Chris had asked, but I was shy. Still felt that way. But not anymore, not with Chris anyway. I wanted Chris, and I wanted to please him more than anything.
First though, I took him into my mouth. Normally, I didn’t like giving blowjobs, but after the orgasm he’d just given me, I had to. I wanted to taste him and drive him to the edge of insanity—the place he’d just taken me.
“Oh, Amanda,” he groaned. “I don’t have that kind of strength at the moment. Can we save that for another time. I’m not gonna last if you continue.”
I obliged and tore open the square. I rolled the latex over his length which I’m certain was bigger than it used to be.
CHAPTER 12
CHRIS
As Amanda climbed over my hips, I felt as though all my dreams were coming true. With her over me, looking down, the moonlight shining behind her, she looked like an angel. A gorgeous naked angel. As if I had died and gone to heaven. She held onto my hands as I gripped her hips and she wiggled her hips, working herself right over my pulsing penis. ‘Little Chris’ couldn’t believe what was going on almost as much as I couldn’t and he was practically leaping to dive inside of her. The head of my cock was finally touching her entrance and I let go of her hips so that I could hold her hands and better support her. She wove our fingers together and our eyes locked. Slowly she lowered herself onto me, and I lost my mind. It was a feeling that was simultaneously home and otherworldly.
Amanda started to get into things and she lifted herself slowly and back down. It was a slow torture. A slow, mind-blowing torture. And I had no desire for this to end. She moved my hands and placed them over her breasts. I rolled her nipples between my fingers causing her to shudder and clench over me and a guttural moan came from her. I could tell that she wanted this to go slow, but I couldn’t hold back any longer. I wrapped my arms around her and sat up, taking her breast into my mouth and swirling my tongue over her sensitive nipple before I, in a move that even impressed me, shifted us so that she was under me.
“I can’t hold back any longer,” I told her as I pinned her hands to the bed over her.
“Good,” she panted back. “Take me. I’m yours and I always have been,” she said.
I kissed her mouth hard then started to pound into her, claiming her as mine all over again. Thankfully it didn’t take long before she was clenching around me in her own orgasm and I let go. One, two, three pumps and I was going off. I dropped my head to her shoulder as I continued to pump into her drawing out the longest orgasm I’d ever experienced in my life. I could feel it from the top of my head down to my toes, every inch of me tingling and releasing.
CHRIS
As Amanda climbed over my hips, I felt as though all my dreams were coming true. With her over me, looking down, the moonlight shining behind her, she looked like an angel. A gorgeous naked angel. As if I had died and gone to heaven. She held onto my hands as I gripped her hips and she wiggled her hips, working herself right over my pulsing penis. ‘Little Chris’ couldn’t believe what was going on almost as much as I couldn’t and he was practically leaping to dive inside of her. The head of my cock was finally touching her entrance and I let go of her hips so that I could hold her hands and better support her. She wove our fingers together and our eyes locked. Slowly she lowered herself onto me, and I lost my mind. It was a feeling that was simultaneously home and otherworldly.
Amanda started to get into things and she lifted herself slowly and back down. It was a slow torture. A slow, mind-blowing torture. And I had no desire for this to end. She moved my hands and placed them over her breasts. I rolled her nipples between my fingers causing her to shudder and clench over me and a guttural moan came from her. I could tell that she wanted this to go slow, but I couldn’t hold back any longer. I wrapped my arms around her and sat up, taking her breast into my mouth and swirling my tongue over her sensitive nipple before I, in a move that even impressed me, shifted us so that she was under me.
“I can’t hold back any longer,” I told her as I pinned her hands to the bed over her.
“Good,” she panted back. “Take me. I’m yours and I always have been,” she said.
I kissed her mouth hard then started to pound into her, claiming her as mine all over again. Thankfully it didn’t take long before she was clenching around me in her own orgasm and I let go. One, two, three pumps and I was going off. I dropped my head to her shoulder as I continued to pump into her drawing out the longest orgasm I’d ever experienced in my life. I could feel it from the top of my head down to my toes, every inch of me tingling and releasing.
CHAPTER 13
CHRIS
I woke slowly and was momentarily disoriented. I didn’t recognize my surroundings, but the scent in the air told me two things: there had been lots of sex, and Amanda had been there. Or had it all been a dream? It had been so long since I’d actually had sex with a woman, I could have easily convinced myself that it hadn’t actually happened. Sure, I’d had sex to create three beautiful daughters, but that was nothing like what Amanda and I had. More than a couple of times last night. Making love to Amanda was unlike anything I’d had in the past eighteen or so years. It was raw. Emotional. Home. She completed me perfectly. We were meant to be together. I knew this without a doubt now. There wasn’t any ‘revisionist’ memory to what we had. And I wasn’t going to let her go ever again.
I wondered where she was as I looked around the unfamiliar and sophisticated room, smiling when I spotted hints of the girl I once knew, although gone were her days of being a slob. When she was in high school, the few times I’d been up to her bedroom it was as if the space had been hit by a tornado. Now, everything was neat and tidy. There were a couple pictures on her dresser. One was of Amanda with her sister Melissa and some guy I didn’t know. I would have been jealous of the guy, but Melissa was wearing a wedding dress, and the man clearly in a groom’s tuxedo. Given the dress that Amanda was wearing, I guessed that she was a bridesmaid or maid-of-honor. There was also a photo of Amanda in her graduation gown standing with her parents. The room was her favorite color, a soft bluish-purple color and there were Irish knots on the wall. I smiled remembering her and I spending hours one afternoon learning to tie those things from a book she’d gotten from the library.
Quietly, the door opened and I saw the most angelic scene. Amanda clad in my button-down with the sleeves rolled up and carrying a tray with breakfast and coffee. What was it about seeing a woman in your dress shirt and nothing else that was so fucking sexy? As much as we’d made love last night, seeing her dressed like that made me want her again. Or maybe it was just seeing her, regardless of what she was wearing. She could have been wearing a potato sack for all I cared.
“You’re awake,” she said quietly, a smile both on her face and in her eyes.
“Am I’m dreaming?” I asked, not entirely joking.
“Not a dream, mister. Not with all the aches I have after last night. I was barely able to walk to the kitchen to make you this five-star breakfast.”
In the immortal words of Wayne and Garth--Schaa-wing! I couldn’t get enough of this new, more direct, naughty, and teasing Amanda. It was sexy as hell.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. I hope this is okay?” she asked innocently.
She set the tray on the bed and I had to rip my eyes off of her legs peeking out under my shirt to look over the picture perfect set up: two glasses of orange juice, two mugs of coffee, and two plates featuring poached eggs, toast with mashed avocado topped with a sprinkle of salt and crushed red pepper, and a couple strawberries on the side. She’d even set a small vase on the tray with a couple of the tulips I’d brought over last night. It was like a postcard for a fancy hotel. “Typically, Saturday morning breakfast in the McMurray home is something drowning in syrup. This is more than perfect.”
“Oh! I forgot the cream and sugar. I’ll be right back,” she said.
I stopped her. “Yeah, I drink it black now.”
“Oh. He now drinks his coffee like an adult, too,” she teased as she settled herself on the bed and slid a delicate hand over my thigh and between my legs. I almost lost it. She had grown into such a vixen!
“I’m assuming yours still tastes like a mug of heated coffee flavored ice cream?”
“Life is too bitter to have your coffee bitter, too,” she proclaimed, and took a sip of her creamy concoction with a glint in her eye.
We dug into our breakfast and I was now 100% convinced I’d died and gone to heaven. Everything was delicious.
“So. The McMurray home has lots of syrupy goodness on Saturday mornings. What else happens on Saturdays?”
“Well, today is soccer. Julia’s game is at two, Suzie’s game is right after that.” Before I knew it was coming out of my mouth, it was out there. “Would you like to come?”
A smile spread across Amanda’s face with a shadow of doubt. “I’d love to, but will your girls be okay with it? A strange woman just showing up?”
I shrugged. I’d never introduced them to anyone I’ve dated before. I’d only been out with a few women, and most of those relationships took a nosedive shortly after they learned I was a single father of three girls. “Only one way to find out,” I said. “Then again, you’re not just some ‘strange woman.’ Besides I would love to see the look on my mom’s face when you show up.”
CHRIS
I woke slowly and was momentarily disoriented. I didn’t recognize my surroundings, but the scent in the air told me two things: there had been lots of sex, and Amanda had been there. Or had it all been a dream? It had been so long since I’d actually had sex with a woman, I could have easily convinced myself that it hadn’t actually happened. Sure, I’d had sex to create three beautiful daughters, but that was nothing like what Amanda and I had. More than a couple of times last night. Making love to Amanda was unlike anything I’d had in the past eighteen or so years. It was raw. Emotional. Home. She completed me perfectly. We were meant to be together. I knew this without a doubt now. There wasn’t any ‘revisionist’ memory to what we had. And I wasn’t going to let her go ever again.
I wondered where she was as I looked around the unfamiliar and sophisticated room, smiling when I spotted hints of the girl I once knew, although gone were her days of being a slob. When she was in high school, the few times I’d been up to her bedroom it was as if the space had been hit by a tornado. Now, everything was neat and tidy. There were a couple pictures on her dresser. One was of Amanda with her sister Melissa and some guy I didn’t know. I would have been jealous of the guy, but Melissa was wearing a wedding dress, and the man clearly in a groom’s tuxedo. Given the dress that Amanda was wearing, I guessed that she was a bridesmaid or maid-of-honor. There was also a photo of Amanda in her graduation gown standing with her parents. The room was her favorite color, a soft bluish-purple color and there were Irish knots on the wall. I smiled remembering her and I spending hours one afternoon learning to tie those things from a book she’d gotten from the library.
Quietly, the door opened and I saw the most angelic scene. Amanda clad in my button-down with the sleeves rolled up and carrying a tray with breakfast and coffee. What was it about seeing a woman in your dress shirt and nothing else that was so fucking sexy? As much as we’d made love last night, seeing her dressed like that made me want her again. Or maybe it was just seeing her, regardless of what she was wearing. She could have been wearing a potato sack for all I cared.
“You’re awake,” she said quietly, a smile both on her face and in her eyes.
“Am I’m dreaming?” I asked, not entirely joking.
“Not a dream, mister. Not with all the aches I have after last night. I was barely able to walk to the kitchen to make you this five-star breakfast.”
In the immortal words of Wayne and Garth--Schaa-wing! I couldn’t get enough of this new, more direct, naughty, and teasing Amanda. It was sexy as hell.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. I hope this is okay?” she asked innocently.
She set the tray on the bed and I had to rip my eyes off of her legs peeking out under my shirt to look over the picture perfect set up: two glasses of orange juice, two mugs of coffee, and two plates featuring poached eggs, toast with mashed avocado topped with a sprinkle of salt and crushed red pepper, and a couple strawberries on the side. She’d even set a small vase on the tray with a couple of the tulips I’d brought over last night. It was like a postcard for a fancy hotel. “Typically, Saturday morning breakfast in the McMurray home is something drowning in syrup. This is more than perfect.”
“Oh! I forgot the cream and sugar. I’ll be right back,” she said.
I stopped her. “Yeah, I drink it black now.”
“Oh. He now drinks his coffee like an adult, too,” she teased as she settled herself on the bed and slid a delicate hand over my thigh and between my legs. I almost lost it. She had grown into such a vixen!
“I’m assuming yours still tastes like a mug of heated coffee flavored ice cream?”
“Life is too bitter to have your coffee bitter, too,” she proclaimed, and took a sip of her creamy concoction with a glint in her eye.
We dug into our breakfast and I was now 100% convinced I’d died and gone to heaven. Everything was delicious.
“So. The McMurray home has lots of syrupy goodness on Saturday mornings. What else happens on Saturdays?”
“Well, today is soccer. Julia’s game is at two, Suzie’s game is right after that.” Before I knew it was coming out of my mouth, it was out there. “Would you like to come?”
A smile spread across Amanda’s face with a shadow of doubt. “I’d love to, but will your girls be okay with it? A strange woman just showing up?”
I shrugged. I’d never introduced them to anyone I’ve dated before. I’d only been out with a few women, and most of those relationships took a nosedive shortly after they learned I was a single father of three girls. “Only one way to find out,” I said. “Then again, you’re not just some ‘strange woman.’ Besides I would love to see the look on my mom’s face when you show up.”
CHAPTER 14
AMANDA
We pulled up to Chris’ parents’ house in Fairfield and I was in love. It was a beautiful home with a large front porch. It wasn’t a massive ‘McMansion’ as Chris called the other gargantuan homes crowding the already tiny lots. His parents’ home was a small bungalow, with shingled siding in a light grey, and crisp white trim. Beautiful gardens graced the front yard and continued around the sides. The driveway was crushed shell instead of gravel. And just as Chris said, it was a stone’s throw from the beach. Chris explained that his dad’s boat was in the marina, but maybe some weekend I could come up and we could spend the day out on the Long Island Sound. He said that watching the Fourth of July fireworks from the water was incredible. My heart leapt that Chris was talking about next month and I felt as if I saw in my mind, many months, even years, into our future.
Chris got out of the car and ran around to open my door. Taking my hand, he led me not toward the front door, but to the side gate of the fence leading to the backyard. “If you thought the gardens in the front were impressive, wait until you see this.”
We walked into the back and I was instantly entranced by the paths with flower beds, the gazebo, and even a fire pit area creating a magical yard.
Before I could spot anyone back here, my attention completely on the gorgeous plantings, a small bark called out and we were ‘attacked’ by a small white ball of fur.
“Peanut,” Chris greeted the dog who rolled over for her belly to be rubbed. “Quite a guard dog, huh?”
From across the yard I heard a young voice cry out, “Daddy!!”
Immediately we were charged by the daughter I recognized as Julia running at us outfitted in a gardening apron, gardening gloves on her hands, and holding a little shovel. She threw herself into Chris’ arms. He ‘oomphed’ when he caught her, then carefully removed the shovel from her hand. “What are we planting?”
Just then the familiar face of Chris’ mother emerged from the shed on the far side of the yard carrying a tray of seedlings. At her side were two more girls who I assumed were Suzie and Annabelle.
“Oh Chr—” She stopped mid-word when her eyes settled on me and recognition set in and she gasped. “I don’t believe it. Is that you Amanda? Oh aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
Mrs. Marie McMurray set her tray down and briskly walked up to me with the two girls trailing behind. She pulled me into a tight hug, her familiar scent taking me back to high school. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I felt so loved in that moment.
“Who is Gwamma hugging,” Julia asked her dad, not even attempting to whisper.
“Girls, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Amanda Snyder.”
“She doesn’t look old, Daddybug,” Julia said, drawing a laugh from Chris. I liked the girl with no filter.
He then properly introduced me to the girls, Annabelle being the most shy, hid behind Chris’ mother’s legs. Suzie however looked at me a little more seriously, chewing on the inside of her mouth. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking behind those big blue eyes, but it didn’t seem good.
“Amanda’s going to join us for your soccer games today. She used to play in high school.”
“You did?” Suzie asked. “What position did you play?”
“I was a striker. What’s your favorite position?”
“I like being goalie, but in the league we play in, coach puts us in all the positions. A lot of the time he has me as a midfielder. I’m going out for travel soccer next year and then I can tryout to be a goalie.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” I assured her. “It’s good that your coach is having you play all the positions though. The best goalies understand the whole field.”
“Coach says the same thing,” she replied with a shy smile.
Chris’ mom swiftly invited me in for coffee and the cupcakes she’d made with the girls last night. We spent the next hour catching up and it felt like old times. As we were about to head to Julia’s soccer game, Marie stopped me. She whispered, “I’m so glad you heard Chris’ call into the station,” and hugged me tightly.
AMANDA
We pulled up to Chris’ parents’ house in Fairfield and I was in love. It was a beautiful home with a large front porch. It wasn’t a massive ‘McMansion’ as Chris called the other gargantuan homes crowding the already tiny lots. His parents’ home was a small bungalow, with shingled siding in a light grey, and crisp white trim. Beautiful gardens graced the front yard and continued around the sides. The driveway was crushed shell instead of gravel. And just as Chris said, it was a stone’s throw from the beach. Chris explained that his dad’s boat was in the marina, but maybe some weekend I could come up and we could spend the day out on the Long Island Sound. He said that watching the Fourth of July fireworks from the water was incredible. My heart leapt that Chris was talking about next month and I felt as if I saw in my mind, many months, even years, into our future.
Chris got out of the car and ran around to open my door. Taking my hand, he led me not toward the front door, but to the side gate of the fence leading to the backyard. “If you thought the gardens in the front were impressive, wait until you see this.”
We walked into the back and I was instantly entranced by the paths with flower beds, the gazebo, and even a fire pit area creating a magical yard.
Before I could spot anyone back here, my attention completely on the gorgeous plantings, a small bark called out and we were ‘attacked’ by a small white ball of fur.
“Peanut,” Chris greeted the dog who rolled over for her belly to be rubbed. “Quite a guard dog, huh?”
From across the yard I heard a young voice cry out, “Daddy!!”
Immediately we were charged by the daughter I recognized as Julia running at us outfitted in a gardening apron, gardening gloves on her hands, and holding a little shovel. She threw herself into Chris’ arms. He ‘oomphed’ when he caught her, then carefully removed the shovel from her hand. “What are we planting?”
Just then the familiar face of Chris’ mother emerged from the shed on the far side of the yard carrying a tray of seedlings. At her side were two more girls who I assumed were Suzie and Annabelle.
“Oh Chr—” She stopped mid-word when her eyes settled on me and recognition set in and she gasped. “I don’t believe it. Is that you Amanda? Oh aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”
Mrs. Marie McMurray set her tray down and briskly walked up to me with the two girls trailing behind. She pulled me into a tight hug, her familiar scent taking me back to high school. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I felt so loved in that moment.
“Who is Gwamma hugging,” Julia asked her dad, not even attempting to whisper.
“Girls, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine. This is Amanda Snyder.”
“She doesn’t look old, Daddybug,” Julia said, drawing a laugh from Chris. I liked the girl with no filter.
He then properly introduced me to the girls, Annabelle being the most shy, hid behind Chris’ mother’s legs. Suzie however looked at me a little more seriously, chewing on the inside of her mouth. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking behind those big blue eyes, but it didn’t seem good.
“Amanda’s going to join us for your soccer games today. She used to play in high school.”
“You did?” Suzie asked. “What position did you play?”
“I was a striker. What’s your favorite position?”
“I like being goalie, but in the league we play in, coach puts us in all the positions. A lot of the time he has me as a midfielder. I’m going out for travel soccer next year and then I can tryout to be a goalie.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” I assured her. “It’s good that your coach is having you play all the positions though. The best goalies understand the whole field.”
“Coach says the same thing,” she replied with a shy smile.
Chris’ mom swiftly invited me in for coffee and the cupcakes she’d made with the girls last night. We spent the next hour catching up and it felt like old times. As we were about to head to Julia’s soccer game, Marie stopped me. She whispered, “I’m so glad you heard Chris’ call into the station,” and hugged me tightly.
CHAPTER 15
CHRIS
Five months later
“Are you going to be our new mom?” Julia asked Amanda with a mouth full of the pie she helped my girls bake. They’d spent the day making two pies, one pumpkin, and one apple, trying to decide which pie to bring to Thanksgiving at my parents’ place in two weeks.
“Julia,” I said hoping to shush her. A glance over at Suzie told me that she’d had the same question. Heck. I’d actually had the same question since we got back together five months ago. I just didn’t realize the girls were thinking it as well. Amanda had swiftly become an easy addition to the family things we did from school functions to weekend activities.
With true ‘Amanda-grace’ she smiled at the girls and, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” she said carefully, glancing at me. Had she been thinking it as well? “Would you want a mom like me? I’ve never been a mom.”
“Oh yes!” Suzie smiled. “It’s because of all your help I scored that position on the travel soccer team.”
“And you’re a really good cook!” Julia added.
Annabelle, having wolfed her piece of pie down, had disappeared, but now stood next to Amanda with her blanket and her favorite book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
“Again?” Amanda asked with a big smile. Annabelle and Amanda had forged a wonderful bond over the circular stories.
“Pease,” Annabelle said around the pacifier in her mouth.
“Of course.” Amanda swept up my youngest and the two curled into the sofa in the living room and Amanda read the story for the eighty-bajillionth time.
“You should ask her, Daddy,” Suzie said, very matter-of-factly.
“Ask her what?” I replied, playing dumb.
“Ask her to marry you. Or is it us?” she asked, twisting her face up with trying to figure out how it should be.
“You think, huh?”
Suzie nodded her head. “Julia and I were talking just the other day. We both like her. ‘Bellie likes her. Youuuu like her.” She smirked at that last one.
I looked over at the cozy duo on the sofa and knew this was what I’d always wanted.
CHRIS
Five months later
“Are you going to be our new mom?” Julia asked Amanda with a mouth full of the pie she helped my girls bake. They’d spent the day making two pies, one pumpkin, and one apple, trying to decide which pie to bring to Thanksgiving at my parents’ place in two weeks.
“Julia,” I said hoping to shush her. A glance over at Suzie told me that she’d had the same question. Heck. I’d actually had the same question since we got back together five months ago. I just didn’t realize the girls were thinking it as well. Amanda had swiftly become an easy addition to the family things we did from school functions to weekend activities.
With true ‘Amanda-grace’ she smiled at the girls and, “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” she said carefully, glancing at me. Had she been thinking it as well? “Would you want a mom like me? I’ve never been a mom.”
“Oh yes!” Suzie smiled. “It’s because of all your help I scored that position on the travel soccer team.”
“And you’re a really good cook!” Julia added.
Annabelle, having wolfed her piece of pie down, had disappeared, but now stood next to Amanda with her blanket and her favorite book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.
“Again?” Amanda asked with a big smile. Annabelle and Amanda had forged a wonderful bond over the circular stories.
“Pease,” Annabelle said around the pacifier in her mouth.
“Of course.” Amanda swept up my youngest and the two curled into the sofa in the living room and Amanda read the story for the eighty-bajillionth time.
“You should ask her, Daddy,” Suzie said, very matter-of-factly.
“Ask her what?” I replied, playing dumb.
“Ask her to marry you. Or is it us?” she asked, twisting her face up with trying to figure out how it should be.
“You think, huh?”
Suzie nodded her head. “Julia and I were talking just the other day. We both like her. ‘Bellie likes her. Youuuu like her.” She smirked at that last one.
I looked over at the cozy duo on the sofa and knew this was what I’d always wanted.
CHAPTER 16
AMANDA
The words continued to ring in my ears.
…I love you…
…made for one another…
…never more thankful for fate…
…You are my past and my present. I want you to be my future. Will you marry me?
I looked down at Chris as he knelt there, his big blue eyes shining up at me, his hair flopping over his forehead. There in his hand was a small, turquoise blue box. Nestled in that box was a sparkly band with three diamonds all lined up.
Looking up, I saw the faces behind Chris, all hopeful and expectant, still sitting at the Thanksgiving table. Chris’ parents, his aunt and uncle, and his grandparents. His three daughters. Suzie was chewing on her thumb nail and nodding her head vigorously and bouncing in her seat.
Chris’ parents had invited my parents to join in the holiday dinner and I was thrilled that they’d flown up. I’d figured Marie’s invitation was just a friendly gesture. But looking at my parents, they totally knew this was coming.
“Don’t cry, Amanda! Don’t be sad,” Julia blurted. Marie pulled Julia into her lap to quiet her.
I hadn’t realized I had been crying. “Oh, Julia. These are happy tears.” I redirected my attention to the man I loved, the man I had always loved. “Yes. Yes I’ll marry you.”
The room erupted in applause and shouts of joy and I was enveloped in Chris’ arms as he lifted me and spun us in circles. A moment later, Suzie, Julia, and Annabelle were hugging the two of us. I squatted down and hugged the girls.
“Put the ring on!” Suzie said. “Then it’s official!”
Chris slipped the ring onto my left ring finger and nothing had ever felt so perfect, so right. I’d hoped for this for months, but was worried that the girls would think I was trying to replace their mother. But the past couple of months, the girls and I had gotten closer and closer, and I felt like, not like their actual mother, but close enough. I loved them as much as I loved their father. With my whole heart.
We continued to receive hugs from all the rest of our families.
“You know who we should call next?” Chris asked when the crowd had quieted and we’d hung up with my sister, sharing the news with her.
“Oh! I have to call Heather!”
“Okay, but not who I had in mind,” Chris said. When I looked at him perplexed, he said, “Pam Jam Brooks. She needs to know that the Long Distance Dedication has led to a happily ever after.”
AMANDA
The words continued to ring in my ears.
…I love you…
…made for one another…
…never more thankful for fate…
…You are my past and my present. I want you to be my future. Will you marry me?
I looked down at Chris as he knelt there, his big blue eyes shining up at me, his hair flopping over his forehead. There in his hand was a small, turquoise blue box. Nestled in that box was a sparkly band with three diamonds all lined up.
Looking up, I saw the faces behind Chris, all hopeful and expectant, still sitting at the Thanksgiving table. Chris’ parents, his aunt and uncle, and his grandparents. His three daughters. Suzie was chewing on her thumb nail and nodding her head vigorously and bouncing in her seat.
Chris’ parents had invited my parents to join in the holiday dinner and I was thrilled that they’d flown up. I’d figured Marie’s invitation was just a friendly gesture. But looking at my parents, they totally knew this was coming.
“Don’t cry, Amanda! Don’t be sad,” Julia blurted. Marie pulled Julia into her lap to quiet her.
I hadn’t realized I had been crying. “Oh, Julia. These are happy tears.” I redirected my attention to the man I loved, the man I had always loved. “Yes. Yes I’ll marry you.”
The room erupted in applause and shouts of joy and I was enveloped in Chris’ arms as he lifted me and spun us in circles. A moment later, Suzie, Julia, and Annabelle were hugging the two of us. I squatted down and hugged the girls.
“Put the ring on!” Suzie said. “Then it’s official!”
Chris slipped the ring onto my left ring finger and nothing had ever felt so perfect, so right. I’d hoped for this for months, but was worried that the girls would think I was trying to replace their mother. But the past couple of months, the girls and I had gotten closer and closer, and I felt like, not like their actual mother, but close enough. I loved them as much as I loved their father. With my whole heart.
We continued to receive hugs from all the rest of our families.
“You know who we should call next?” Chris asked when the crowd had quieted and we’d hung up with my sister, sharing the news with her.
“Oh! I have to call Heather!”
“Okay, but not who I had in mind,” Chris said. When I looked at him perplexed, he said, “Pam Jam Brooks. She needs to know that the Long Distance Dedication has led to a happily ever after.”
THE END
I hope you enjoyed that quick novella! It was fun to write.
Now the fun part! (other than searching my website for other things about me - like my books... or the cocktails I like to make! 😉 So - after you enter the giveaway, give my site a spin! If you liked this story, you'll surely find another Isabelle Peterson book you want to read!)
The Scavenger Hunt...
Enter your answers to the 10 simple questions from Long Distance Dedication on the rafflecopter form, and you're entered!
Three winners will receive $5 Amazon Gift Cards!
You have until August 30th to enter.
I'll announce the winners in the September Isabelle Peterson Newsletter!
Now the fun part! (other than searching my website for other things about me - like my books... or the cocktails I like to make! 😉 So - after you enter the giveaway, give my site a spin! If you liked this story, you'll surely find another Isabelle Peterson book you want to read!)
The Scavenger Hunt...
Enter your answers to the 10 simple questions from Long Distance Dedication on the rafflecopter form, and you're entered!
Three winners will receive $5 Amazon Gift Cards!
You have until August 30th to enter.
I'll announce the winners in the September Isabelle Peterson Newsletter!
