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When he was still there when I got off, I ignored my mind and went with what felt good. Well, way to go Missy. Now here I am in no man’s land Minnesota, married to someone I don’t know, and living in his apartment alone. I am alone because I chickened out after the fact with no family, no job, and no freaking clue where the hell I am.
Basically. The messed-up part is I have been going over and over this for the past few days wondering what the hell I was thinking. And it all comes back to the same thing. I am looking for security and love.
My mom was 16 when she had me. She dropped out of high school and worked a long line of endless jobs. I never knew my dad and she wasn’t too keen on telling me who he was or anything about him. We grew up together if you will. Though I could easily make the argument that I grew up and she just…got older.
When I became old enough to work, I worked every day after school determined to finish high school. Meanwhile, my mother had a string of rotten marriages. Six to be exact. I swore to myself there was no way I would do that. Being like my mother is not what I want to do or be like. There is no way I would marry a man for comfort, only to divorce him months later.
“Well, you’re well on the way girl if you don’t get your shit together.” I admonish myself.
The thing is, as crazy as it sounds, I think I might really love him. I know it’s nuts. We just met, but I have always been a believer in ‘when you know you know.’ And something about him makes me feel safe, feminine, and wanted. Things I have never felt before. When he made love to me, my body sighed. It was like a physical sigh. Almost as if it knew we had just met the man who is going to treasure us forever.
Then I had to go nuclear on him and sabotage it. But seriously, how was I not supposed to freak out? I should have said fuck it and followed my heart, especially when he gave me the diner that he bought for me. He remembered our conversation in Vegas and he actually bought me a fucking diner. Can the man be any more perfect? Apparently, his brother owns a construction company, so right now it is being upgraded to look like my vision. Then why am I still so hesitant?
This is one of the times I wish I had a mom to go to for advice. Or at least a best friend. Someone. The past few days I have been walking around in this new city I find myself in to try and get my bearings. To figure out my next move. The fact that this place is quiet, unlike Vegas and clean. Also, unlike Vegas, I notice that Bleak Minnesota has an unnatural number of happy couples walking around.
Which if I’m honest that alone is a shock to me. When you consider the name ‘Bleak’ a person could think that there would be a lot of suicide attempts or something. But no. As far as I can see, everyone seems to be happy and full of love. I want that for myself.
‘Then why did you push him away, nutjob?’ Leave it to me, to state the obvious.
The phone ringing breaks up my admonishments. Shit. Its Hagen.
“Hello.” Sue me, but the man makes me tongue-tied. I can’t think when he is near or apparently on the phone. He knows it too if his chuckle is anything to go by.
“Hello to you too baby. I am calling to let you know I will be there in two hours to take you out to dinner. Be ready.”
“I’m sorry. What?” I question as I am totally thrown off guard.
“A date Missy. You want to take it slow and I want you. The advice I have been given is to date you. Apparently, I am supposed to do that before marrying you. Who knew?” He chuckles again and I am officially swooning. Even his damn chuckle is cute.
“A date, huh? OK. What should I wear?”
“Whatever the hell you want baby. As long you are with me the rest doesn’t matter. See you in two hours.” Well damn. I think as I am fanning myself. Time to get sexy for my husband.
Chapter Three
Hagen
Heading my father’s advice, I call my beautiful wife and ask her out on a date. When I get to my apartment door, instead of walking-in I knock. I am doing this legit. When she opens the door, I almost swallow my tongue. Her little black dress is mouthwatering.
“Hey baby,” I finally manage to get out of my mouth.
