Contemporary Romance, Second Chances
Date Published: December 27, 2024
One blind date and I fall head over heels. Then he ghosts me, leaving me
brokenhearted and pregnant.
Aaron: When I meet Genesis on a blind date I fall head over heels.
She’s younger than me and I know I don’t deserve her, but I want
to see her again. But before that can happen, I’m arrested,
handcuffed, and imprisoned for something I didn’t do. Thinking about
Genesis is the only thing that keeps me from going crazy—until I find
out she might be the one who framed me.
Genesis: I hate blind dates, but I change my mind when Aaron shows up at my
door. He’s perfect in every way and I’m smitten at first sight.
I can’t wait to see him again, but then he ghosts me, and disappears
off the face of the Earth. Everyone tells me to forget him, but it’s
not that easy. I’m head over heels for him –- and pregnant with
his baby.
EXCERPT
The shop clerk raved over my figure. “You can wear
anything,”
While I called myself skinny, she called me svelte. “You could
model,” she added over her shoulder as she pulled dresses off the rack
for me to try on. She deposited them in the dressing room and told me to
call her if I needed help.
Sighing, I undressed down to my cotton panties and bra, and inspected
myself in the full-length mirror. Not much up top. I hope he won’t be
disappointed.
Fuck him. It was just a blind date.
For the hundredth time I cursed myself for accepting this date. Going
through all this hassle and expense for some loser was beyond ridiculous.
I’d rather get a root canal. The only reason I hadn’t bowed out
was because my mechanic had arranged it. The last time I brought my car in,
he jokingly said that I should date a grease monkey like him. It was how
he’d met his wife. He followed that with, “Hey, I know just the
guy.” And I’d let him talk me into it.
Still, experience had taught me that blind dates never turned out well. Of
course, most of my experience was thanks to my father, the District
Attorney, trying to control my life like he controlled everything in the
city.
I couldn’t even count the times he’d had his secretary fix me
up with political hacks that would further his career. When I started
ghosting them, he orchestrated chance meetings at the endless cocktail
parties he threw for his political cronies. He planned to run for office
someday and having a daughter married to a politico and campaigning for him
would be a major boon to his career. The whole thing felt really creepy and
manipulative. Nothing was more personal than who you fell in love with.
Besides, my father and I were politically diverse. I would never vote for
his bootlickers, let alone marry one. His attempts to play puppet master
were doomed to failure from the beginning and a major reason why I moved out
of his house and into the Dollhouse.
That’s what I named my micro apartment in the Signature Suites
building. That sounded a lot swankier than it really was. My little piece of
heaven was only four hundred square feet; one-room with a sitting slash
sleeping area, kitchenette, and bathroom, but it was all mine.
I turned my attention back to the dresses. The good thing about having
small breasts was that I could wear just about anything. The bad thing was
that most men love big tits. I was enlightened when I turned sixteen. My
father had given me a check and told me to get breast implants. Hurt and
disgusted, I spent the money on a creative writing class and started a blog.
I learned early on to do the opposite of whatever he wanted. If only my
mother hadn’t gotten cancer and died when I was three. I hardly
remembered her. Wiping away the tears, I vowed not to think about that
now.
After slipping a dress over my head, I made a face in the mirror.
“Ugh.” The hem hit the floor and the slinky material made me
look flatter. It went back on the hanger, and I tried on number two. Too
short, too black, too dressy. It was something my father’s secretary
would wear to one of his political functions. I glanced at my watch and
started to panic. I had no time to hit another store.
The green floral print with a halter top seemed promising. I tied it behind
my neck, and twirled. Feminine and flowy, the hem landed between my knees
and ankles. The bare back and built-in bra treaded a thin line between
classy and slutty, but the dress flattered my figure and I had white strappy
sandals that would work with it. The more I checked it out in the mirror,
the more I liked it.
I looked at the tag. The price blew my mind. I hated spending money I
didn’t have. My closet was full of jeans, leggings, and business
casual for the photo ops I used to take with my father. If I cooperated with
Bruce, I’d have a bigger apartment and lots of clothes, everything I
could want, but I’d be selling my soul. Since moving out of the big
brownstone, I’d been happier than I’ve ever been.
I stared at my reflection. I’d have to put it on a charge card. Is it
worth it? It had been a long time since I bought myself something new and I
looked good in it. That settled it. Fuck the price. It was indeed worth it.
I changed quickly, and looked for the saleslady.
My car was still down the street where I left it. I’d heard that car
thieves preferred old Toyotas for parts, but even they weren’t
interested in my 2009 Corolla. Maybe the leaking fluid puddling under it
warned them off. Shit. I wondered if I should continue to fix it or if it
was time to ditch it. I just hated to cut the cord. The car was paid for and
I couldn’t afford a new one.
I started it up and headed for home. I was a panicker, so when the car
started shaking and vibrating, I freaked out. At least it didn’t die
until I pulled in front of my apartment building.
Shit, shit, shit. I should have said no to the dress and canceled my date.
All that money could have paid for car repairs. Those times when I doubted
my decisions I would go to Kate for a second opinion.
Kate was my bf, my confidant, and my partner in crime. She was a voice of
reason in my chaotic life. She was older than me and whip smart. Oddly
enough I’d met her because of my father. Well, indirectly. Kate was a
secretary in the mayor’s office. Two years ago, we met at a boring
political function. All night we laughed at the pompous civil servants and
public employees walking around with sticks up their asses. Including my
father. Turned out that, despite our age gap, we had a lot in common,
starting with the same sense of humor. We both liked good books and Sex in
the City, and we could talk about anything and everything. Even when we
haven’t spoken in a while, we could just pick up right where we left
off.
Best of all, Kate didn’t judge me. Being older, she’d already
been through the same things I was going through now. If two people were
compatible then why not be friends, because age is just a number. At
twenty-one I’ve already met so many assholes that I was super picky
about friends and lovers. I didn’t have many of either because I
believed in quality over quantity.
Kate picked up after several rings. “Hi, girlfriend. Getting ready
for your big night?”
“I don’t know. My car died. I’m thinking I should
cancel.”
“Do you want to cancel?”
“I’m torn. I already bought a dress, but I could return
it.”
“Go for it, girl. Do you want to end up like me? Thirty-fucking-five
on my next birthday and still single. Fear of forty is a real thing. Call
him back and ask him to pick you up.”
“I can’t do that. He might be a serial killer. The whole idea
was to meet in a public place.”
“But weren’t you fixed up by someone you know?”
“Yeah, my mechanic. He said he might be shooting himself in the foot
because his friend is a mechanic, too, but he’s willing to lose my
business if I like his buddy.”
There was a long silence.
“Kate? You still there?”
“Yeah. Just thinking. And I think you should keep the date. You might
miss out on something good. Just keep me on speed dial, in case your plans
change again, or you need me to rescue you. I’ll be home all
night.”
“Kate, you’re the best.”
I felt so much better. Kate was right as usual. I really needed a night out
and knowing she was a phone call away made me feel safer. I called Aaron and
he immediately offered to pick me up. So far, so good. Please God,
don’t let him be an asshole.
About the Author
Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her
nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and
pencil.
Some things never change.
Author Links
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@changelingpress
