At 28 years old I hadn't been with a man for three years. The first two years after my husband died, I couldn't bare the thought of another man touching me. I felt like it was cheating. Jake wasn't supposed to die in that car accident. He was supposed to grow old and gray with me. Jake was gone and I knew I had to move on, but acknowledging this didn't make things any easier. Still, at twenty-eight I wasn't willing to spend the rest of my life alone.
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Television just wasn't cutting it. I couldn't get her off of my mind.
I'd fallen right into the same routine I had every night. Beer and TV usually made me groggy quick, especially on a full stomach. One pull of a lever, and my aching feet were up and my hands were behind my head in the recliner. The same recliner where she had climbed into my lap without her panties and rode me like a stallion.
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Dear Readers,
Everything is going according to plan.
-Steve
For a minute, I couldn't help but stare at him. Shock washed over me, intermixed with hurt, as if a needle full of misery had been injected into my veins. Whatever had been built last night was beginning to crumble all around us. It was like watching the 1871 burning of Chicago and being powerless to stop the devastation as it swept across town.
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It was as I was returning from a trip up to Manchester that I saw the sign: 'Stewartby Park Prestige Hotel'. I vaguely remembered hearing that the old place had been converted, some years after she died, but it hadn't really hit home to me until that moment. Before I'd even realised it I'd swung the car between the gate posts and started up that familiar wide, sweeping gravel drive, framed by rhododendron bushes. After a few hundred yards I rounded a corner and saw again the huge, sprawling former stately home I'd last set eyes on more than 30 years earlier, its crooked Tudor chimneys silhouetted against the afternoon sky.
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The car drove along the tree-lined lane to a house overlooking a lake. It was a large house with several levels of decks at the rear.
"It's a beautiful house, Tiff," Ashley said, taking in the beautiful flowers that were expertly laid out in the lavish gardens.
"Yes, it is. Mike is a very successful lawyer here. He has been my client for about two years now," Tiffany, the taller blonde answered.
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This is an edited version of the original. A comment mentioned that the ending of the original didn't really fit and after reading it a few times, I realized he/she was right and I changed it. I hope you enjoy.
"Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything." - Katharine Hepburn, Me: Stories of My Life
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The bride worried that she would shatter. She felt as fragile as the glass bottles of oils and perfumes set out for her bath--a bath she didn't welcome, and one she knew would never make her feel clean. In the water, a gilded lion gushed rose-scented water from his mouth. Julia had always thought the fountain beautified the room, but now the lion seemed like he was just another predator waiting to pounce.
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"You're kidding? Right?" my ex-husband Alan asked incredulously.
"Now, why would I kid about that?" I returned the question with annoyance.
Alan was temporarily speechless and I could hear him fumbling for the right words.
"I'm telling you because when you pick up Alana, Valerie might be there and I want you to be cordial," I stated firmly.
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It had been months since that afternoon at LeAnn's. Neither had spoken about it and they had carried on as if nothing had ever happened. LeAnn had only been practicing her newly learned massage techniques... hadn't she? The activities had got them both more than a little aroused. Maybe LeAnn had been a little too intimate. Maybe Laura had overreacted to the attention. Maybe.
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It had been a long day, and all Jim Reynolds wanted to think about was taking in an evening run and enjoying a quiet Friday night at home. He had a full weekend planned ahead of him, finishing up the renovation work on his latest real estate investment. Running and working was his way of staving off depression. Since his divorce five years ago, he had been buying older homes, living in them while he updated them, and then selling them. If you didn't mind living in substandard conditions for a while, it was a good way to make a tidy profit outside regular work, and keep your mind off growing old alone.
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