Second Chance Holiday (2 page)

“Will you please stop?” His hand wraps around my elbow as I start to open the front door. My head drops and I turn to face him. “Give me some time.”

My throat clogs and tears sting my nose at the pain I hear in his voice.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” I shake my head again, pulling my elbow from his grasp before heading out to my car. I don’t want things to end like this, but there’s no way I can continue with the way things are going.

I quickly buckle up and start my car. I look up at the house one last time. Seeing Mike standing on the front porch makes me question my decision. Then I think about my life and what I want for myself and put my car in reverse, pulling my eyes from him and backing out of his driveway.

*

I look at
the guy across from me and bite the inside of my cheek. I signed up for online dating three week ago and have gone out on two dates so far. This guy is better-looking than the last guy, but I just mean better-looking, not good-looking.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Steve.

He nods, not even taking his eyes off the phone in his hand. I roll my eyes and stand up, grabbing my bag. As soon as I reach the restroom I step up in front of the sink and turn on the cool water, splashing some on my cheeks before looking at myself in the mirror. I told Mike that I didn’t want to be alone in five years and I need to date in order for that to happen, so that’s what I’ve been doing.

Mike has called a couple of times, and when he does reach out to me, I can’t help but pick up my phone. Call me weak if you want to, but I love him. He never says anything about hooking up again. He just asks how work’s going and if Brandon is doing okay. I try to keep the conversations short. My heart can only take so much.

After shaking the thoughts of Mike out of my head and pulling a couple of paper towels out of the dispenser, I dab my face, reminding myself that I just need to get through dinner. Then I can go home, have a glass of wine, and curl up in bed with some twenty-something hot guy with tattoos on my Kindle. I touch up my lip gloss, step out of the bathroom, and run right into a solid wall.

“Sorry,” I mumble, as warm hands wrap around my shoulders steadying me. A familiar smell surrounds me as my eyes travel up and meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes.

“Kat.” The sound of my name leaving his mouth has goose bumps breaking out across my skin and anxiety turning in my stomach.

“Mike.” I try to take a step back, but his hands hold me a little tighter as his eyes travel down my body, taking in my dress and heels.

“You look beautiful,” he says as his hands slide down my arms and his thumbs run over my bare skin. My stomach flips at the look in his eyes.

“Thanks.” I try to take a step back again, but he leans in, his nose running along my neck.

“You smell good, too.”

I take a shaky breath and close my eyes as his nose runs up my neck towards my ear.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his lips brushing my lobe.

My hands come up to grip his shirt so I don’t fall on my face.

“Kathleen, are you okay?” Steve’s voice cuts in.

I let go of Mike immediately and take a step away from him. “I’m fine, Steve,” I say, taking another step back, trying to get my body back under control.

“Dinner’s just arrived at the table and I can’t eat until you get there,” he says, slightly annoyed.

I look from him to Mike and take a breath when I see the look on Mike’s face. “I’m coming now,” I tell Steve, who mumbles something before crossing his arms over his chest watching us.

I start down the hall towards him when he clears his throat. If the feeling of guilt weren’t running through me for what just happened, I would tell Steve where to shove it. When I reach the end of the hall, I feel eyes boring into my back. I turn my head to look over my shoulder and look at Mike.

“It was nice seeing you,” I tell Mike.

He doesn’t say anything. He just lifts his chin in my direction before looking over my head and glaring. I turn back around and head out to the dining room, following behind Steve. When we sit at the table, he looks at his food, grumbling under his breath about the temperature before he starts eating. Why the hell I needed to be here in order for him to eat is still confusing me as I start to cut up the ravioli that I ordered.

Suddenly, I feel eyes on me again, so I lift my head. My eyes lock on Mike’s from across the restaurant as he sits at the bar with a guy who I know is his brother. His hand, which is holding a beer, comes up in my direction before I lower my eyes to continue eating.

This date will go down as the second worst date of my life, and that’s second to the one I had a week ago with a computer programmer who thought he was God’s gift to women. Sadly, he reminded me of the aliens from
Men In Black
—the ones with the giant, beefed-up bodies and teeny tiny heads. Yeah, that was not a good time.

“I can’t believe that you were making out with someone while we’re on a date,” Steve says, catching me off guard and bringing me out of my thoughts.

Guilt turns my stomach at his words. My ex-husband cheated on me. He was having an affair for two years and I didn’t even find out until he was packing his stuff to move out. I begged him to work it out, but in the end, he chose his new girlfriend and her kids over my son and me. I hate cheaters, and even though I have no commitment to Steve, I still feel guilty for what happened with Mike.

“I wasn’t making out with him,” I say defensively.

“His mouth was on you.” Okay, so that was true. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch other men when we’re out together.”

That wouldn’t be too hard because I’m thinking this is going to be the last time I will ever see Steve.

“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again,” I tell him, really wanting to stab him.

I sit there for a few more minutes, not eating while feeling holes being drilled into me from across the room. It’s taking everything in me not to look at Mike. My body knows he’s near. I swear I can feel my blood cells pulling me in his direction.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Steve.

His eyes narrow, but he nods like I need his damn permission. I grab my bag and start toward the restrooms, but instead of walking all the way down the hall, I turn to the left and head towards the hostess.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess asks as soon as I make it to the front of the restaurant.

“Actually, I need to leave. I have an emergency.” I pull out a hundred-dollar bill and hand it to her. “Can you please give that to our waitress and give a message to my date that I left?”

“Sure,” she replies, giving me a knowing smile. She seated me with Steve thirty minutes ago, so I’m sure she understands why I want to get out of here.

I smile, lift my bag up over my shoulder, and head for the front of the restaurant. Once I reach the parking lot, I find my keys, quickly get in my car, and take off like the hounds of Hell are on my heels.

When I reach my house, my cell starts ringing from my purse. I pull it out and slide my finger across the screen when I see that Mike is calling.

“That didn’t last long,” he says, his tone almost playful.

But something about his words pisses me off. I know what I want out of life, and I know that I deserve to have a man who is supportive at my side. I have been single for a long time, but I miss having someone to wake up to or someone to call when I just need to vent.

“He was kind of lame, babe.”

“Seriously?” I hiss. My stomach tightens and the urge to throw my phone across the room consumes me. “You’re a jerk!” I say, hanging up.

When my phone lights up again, I hit the power button.
Screw him.

MIKE

I
look at my
coffee and rub the space between my eyes. I need to get dressed, but since everything went down with Kat, I haven’t felt like doing shit. I hear the front door open and slam then the sound of Beast’s dog tags jingling together before I ever see November come around the corner.

“Hey, Daddy!” my daughter says, walking into the house.

I watch as she tosses her bag across the room and onto the couch before coming to sit down at the island next to me with a huff. Her eyes search my face for a second before I turn away from her.

“Hey, baby girl,” I mumble, taking a drink of my coffee, setting my elbows down on the counter.

“Okay, spill it,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Spill what?”

“Oh lord. Don’t play dumb. You’ve been moping around for a while and I’m tired of it.”

“I’m not moping.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call Grandma,” she says, standing and walking around the island into the kitchen. Then she grabs a coffee cup out of the cupboard before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Can you drink that right now?” I ask.

She frowns at me over the top of her coffee cup, making me smile. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Now seriously. Tell me what’s going on?”

I sigh then debate about what I’m going to tell her. I know she’s not a little girl, but the idea of explaining to her how I let the woman I love slip through my fingers because I’m a dumbass is not at all appealing.

“Dad, talk to me,” she says quietly.

I look at her across the counter and lower my head. “I fucked up. I mean really fucked up, and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Are you still breathing?” she asks softly, and I lift my head.

“Pardon?”

“Are you still breathing?” she repeats, searching my face.

“Yes,” I tell her and frown when I see her eyes flash.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

She nods. “You know, this man once told me that, as long as you were breathing, anything was possible.” She takes a drink of her coffee, searching my face again. She shakes her head and I see tears fill her eyes. “You could have given up on me,” she whispers, and my heart contracts. “You could have just said screw it and given up, but you didn’t—you never did. You are someone who fights for what you want. So if you love this woman, she’s probably pretty amazing and worth fighting for.”

“She is,” I say, my jaw locking.

“Then fight, Dad. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”

“When did you get so darn smart?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, taking another drink from her cup.

“Love you, baby girl.”

“Love you too, Dad.” She smiles then leans onto the counter with her elbows. “Now tell me about her.”

“What?”

“Who is she?” she asks.

I take a breath and sit up on the stool. “Her name’s Kathleen. We knew each other back in school before she moved away,” I say.

She nods before taking another drink and then lowering her cup to the counter. “How long have you been seeing each other?”

Shit,
I think, and she narrows her eyes.

“How long have you been seeing her, Dad?” she repeats.

“Nine months,” I mumble looking down at the counter.

“Nine months? You’ve been seeing her for nine months and I’m just now hearing about her?” She shakes her head and stands to her full height before turning away from me and walking around the kitchen twice. Then she stops in front of me, opening and closing her mouth again and doing another circle. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this,” she says, making me feel instantly worse.

“She has a son.”

“She has a son?” she repeats, coming around the counter to sit on the stool next to me again. “How old is he?”

“Just turned eighteen.”

“Wow,” she breathes.

“Yeah,” I say, running my fingers though my hair.

“How do you guys get along?”

“I don’t know him.”

“You’ve been seeing this lady for nine months, you’re in love with her, and you don’t know her son?”

“I told you I fucked up,” I tell her, lowering my head towards the counter again.

“You weren’t lying,” she mumbles under her breath, and I swing my head towards her and narrow my eyes. “It’s okay,” she says, holding up her hands. “It’s not too late.” She wraps her arm around my back, laying her head on my shoulder. “You’re pretty easy to love, Dad, and one thing I know for sure is that everything will work out.”

“You’re right, baby girl.” I wrap my arm around her, lean in, and kiss the top of her head. And pray that I find away to get my woman back.

KAT

“A
re you sure
this is a good idea?” I ask Conner as we pull up in front of a large log house.

“Honey, I told you before. It’s all good. We’re not going to stay long—just a beer. Then we can go to the movies, or if you want, we can go back to my place,” he says, his voice changing slightly, making me panic.

Oh God.
I wasn’t ready for that. Conner is a very nice man. He’s good-looking, attentive, and kind. He’s also successful, but the idea of doing anything more than kissing him on the cheek makes me feel nauseated.

I feel bad that there is no spark with him. He has done everything to make me feel comfortable, but something keeps holding me back. There are just no sparks. I keep asking myself,
Who the hell needs sparks?
But my brain is not listening.