Update

Hi guys!

There will be a post this week, I promise.  It just won't be until later in the week.

For the last few weeks of school (there's a light at the end of the tunnel!) I will guarantee you one post per week but I can't guarantee you a day.  It's just a lot easier that way.  I know it's a pain to check back, but you can follow me on Bloglovin', follow by email, or follow with your Google/Blogger account to make it less of a pain.  Once I'm done with school I solemnly swear I will give you a solid, consistent schedule.

Thanks for your patience so far!  You guys are the best.

Continue reading →

Chapter 8 (4/3/16)

            I stormed up the stairs, flung open the door at the top, and found myself face to face with my former in-laws.  “What are you doing here?” I asked, irritated.

            

           “Kevin asked us to grab the mail and check on the house,” my ex-father-in-law said, looking really confused.

            “He did?” I challenged him.  “That’s strange, since I live here and am perfectly capable of grabbing the mail and keeping an eye on the house.  The house that I live in.”

            “Hi, Jenna,” my ex-mother-in-law chirped, as though this wasn’t a strange situation.

            “Also,” I continued, ignoring her, “It’s after 10 on a Saturday night.  Kind of a strange time to check the mail.” My ex-father-in-law held my gaze and shrugged without providing an explanation.  “Well, you grabbed the mail,” I said, forcing a smile.  “You checked on the house.  Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?”

            “Jenna?” Jamie’s voice coming from the stairs almost made me panic.  Damn it, Jamie.  Stay downstairs!  “Is everything okay?”

            I gritted my teeth and turned to give him a “stay!” look, but it was too late.  He appeared next to me at the top of the stairs, wearing nothing but his jeans.  Damn it.  “Everything’s fine,” I said with false brightness.  “They were just leaving.”  I turned back around and realized that my former mother-in-law was no longer in the kitchen. 

I looked around and found her standing next to the couch, looking down at something.  I flushed bright red when I realized she was looking down at my pile of clothes.  She started when she realized what she was seeing and quickly turned towards the door.  “Ron, I think we should go,” she said.  “The house is clearly just fine.” 

I stood there, glaring at them.  “Okay,” my ex-father-in-law said reluctantly, glancing at Jamie, who was leaning against the wall watching the scene unfold with amusement.  I didn’t move, and neither did Ron.

“Well, Jenna, it was nice to see you,” my ex-mother-in-law said, starting to walk towards the door.  I didn’t answer, and finally Ron started towards the doors after her. 

Once they were gone, I locked the door behind them and turned to Jamie, fuming.  I immediately furrowed my brow deeper, because he was laughing.  “What?” I snapped.

“Relax, Jen,” he soothed me.  “That shit was funny.  Not for you right now, but I promise that it will be funny to you someday.”

“Did they not see the strange car in the driveway?” I raged, not quieted by his words.  “Or the men’s shoes next to the door?  What the hell are they doing here so late anyway?  What did they expect to find?  And oh my god, my ex-mother-in-law saw my underwear!”  I took another look at my clothes on the floor and saw my black thong, the last thing that Jamie had removed from my body, in plain view on top of pile.

Jamie lost it then, laughing until tears were streaming down his face.  “I’m sorry,” he gasped in response to my glare.  “It’s so funny when it’s not you.”

“You are such a dick,” I grumbled.  I bent down and picked up my pile of clothes off the floor, then stalked past him downstairs.  I just needed a second to get myself together.  I chucked my clothes in the general direction of my laundry basket, but didn’t make it.  I was picking everything up off the floor when Jamie came in. 

“Hey,” he said softly.  As I straightened, he wrapped his arms tightly around me from behind and nuzzled against my neck.  I sighed and relaxed back against him.  “I’m sorry I laughed,” he apologized. 

“I’m not mad at you,” I replied.  “I was just mad in general and I needed a second.  I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“They have some nerve,” he said.  He shifted and moved his hands up to my shoulders, pressing his thumbs into my tight, angry muscles.  “You always get so tense when you’re pissed off.” 

I let him massage my shoulders and neck for several minutes, letting my anger fade away.  We may have been interrupted, but I was not going to let my ex-in-laws keep me from having sex tonight.  When he replaced one hand with his lips and began kissing and nipping at my neck and shoulder on one side while still massaging the other, I thought I was going to melt into a puddle on the carpet.

I turned around and looped my arms around his neck, pulling him in closer and kissing him.  I quickly found myself without clothes again, and I fumbled with the button on his jeans.  He pushed my hands away and backed me up to the bed.  “I’m just going to make sure there’s nothing else distracting you before we get back to where we were,” he informed me, gently pushing me down onto the bed.  I didn’t care to protest as he knelt in front of me and lowered his head between my legs once more.

I didn’t think about my former in-laws any more that night.  It had been 10 years since the last time Jamie and I slept together, and he was good then.  10 more years of experience had only improved his skills.  I didn’t hear any complaints about my skills either, which was a relief.  Eventually we untangled ourselves and fell asleep, each carefully tucked in on our own side of the bed.  Neither of us were cuddly sleepers.

I slept like a rock, which was a rare occurrence lately.  I only woke up when Jamie accidentally shut the door a little too hard coming back into the room from the bathroom around 8am.  I squinted sleepily at him, stifling a yawn.  “Morning,” he said with a grin.  His hair was tousled and his eyes looked sleepy still.  He was so hot, even in the morning.

“Morning,” I replied.  “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” he said, climbing back into bed and sliding over next to me.  He rolled me onto my side and cuddled up to me, pressing his chest against my back and wrapping his arm around me.  “Really well.”

“Good,” I murmured.  I was comfortable and still tired, but I was suddenly very aware of the fact that this was the first man that had been in my bed (besides my ex-husband) in a very, very long time.  “This is weird,” I blurted out, before I could stop myself.

Jamie chuckled.  “Is it the cuddling that did it in?”

“Well, yeah, that’s pretty weird too.  But I just meant in general.  Um…you’re the first person I’ve had sex with since my divorce.  And also I haven’t seen you in a really long time.”

“It is kind of weird,” he agreed.  “I don’t have any complaints though.”

“Oh, neither do I,” I responded hurriedly.  “Not at all.  Just suddenly feeling a little ‘light of day’ weirdness and I’m too impulsive to stop myself from drawing attention to it.” 

Jamie laughed and shook his head.  “You really haven’t changed, have you?”

“Probably not much,” I agreed. 

It didn’t take long for our cuddling to turn into lazy, spooning sex.  When we were finished, we both fell back to sleep for a little while.  I woke up again when Jamie rolled onto his back and stretched.  “I need to get up or I might stay here all day,” he said.

“I wouldn’t stop you,” I replied, smirking at him.  Especially if he keeps making me come like that…

“I know,” he said with a laugh.  “That’s why I have to get up.  I’ve got some family obligations today.  Can I take you out for breakfast before I go, though?”

“Breakfast?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.  “What’s this?  Did you morph into a gentleman since I last saw you?”

“Nah, it’s sympathy breakfast,” he teased.  “I feel bad that you still live with your prick of an ex-husband, so I’ll buy you some French toast, because French toast makes everything less shitty.”

I smacked him in the arm and he laughed, then stood up and dodged the pillow I chucked at him.  He grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, ducking just in time for the second pillow to miss.  Then he grabbed his shirt and ran out of the room, still laughing.

“I’ll even let you get bacon!” he called from the safety of the hallway. 

I just shook my head and rolled out of bed to get dressed.  Bacon gets me every time.

Continue reading →

Chapter 7 (4/2/16)

            Hi guys, thank you so much for your patience this week.  I plan to have another post up Monday or Tuesday!

            Also, you have may have noticed that I've turned on comment moderation.  There seems to be a case of mistaken identity happening, and I've been getting some bizarre comments from someone who thinks I'm someone they know.  I don't think that's the case.  While pieces of this story are based on real life events, I can assure you that I've taken many creative liberties and made everything a lot more exciting than the real life events they're based on.  Still, most of the blog is 100% fictional.  In any case, the comments were coming over and over so I've turned on the moderation.  All comments that aren't spam will be approved, and I hope that it doesn't discourage anyone from commenting, because I value your feedback quite a bit.  

______________________________________

            I could only avoid the dating site for so long.  I got an email every time I got a message, and after getting several throughout the day on Sunday, I finally caved and decided to explore it a little.

            I wasn’t impressed with any of the profiles of the guys that had messaged me so far.  I clicked through, deleting all the messages.  Chelsea would be so disappointed.  I clicked away from my profile and began perusing some of the men’s profiles. 

20 minutes passed quickly as I explored the site.  I was just about to close the site and think about going for a run when a familiar photo caught my eye.  I did a double take as I saw my ex-husband, smiling in a photo that was at least 5 years old.  As I clicked on the profile, my blood began to boil when I realized it was a picture that I was in also—but of course he’d cropped me out. 

Every logical bone in my body told me to stop and not read any further.  But my impulsive, masochistic side read through his profile.  I rolled my eyes and got angrier as I saw that he was talking about looking for his “one true love.”  I scrolled through lies and lame canned lines that I’d read on 15 other profiles.  But when my eyes fell on the line that said, “Joined 3 months ago,” my jaw dropped.  3 months ago we had most definitely still been married.  We hadn’t even been separated.  3 months ago I was clinging desperately to the shreds of what was left, trying to rebuild my trust in him.  And 3 months ago, he was trolling dating sites for fresh meat.

I closed the website quickly and angrily.  Then I slammed my laptop shut way harder than was good for it.  I stomped around, getting running clothes on.  I stopped stomping as I went upstairs.  If Kevin wasn’t awake, I didn’t want to wake him up.  I didn’t want to see him.  Luckily, the coast was clear and I made it safely outside to run off some of my anger.

I avoided Kevin as much as possible for the next week and a half.  The Wednesday before Christmas, he left for a conference for work, and it was the best day I’d had in months.  I didn’t have to sneak around, trying to avoid him.  I got to sit in the living room and watch TV on his absurdly large television.  I looked at a few more houses, but none of them were good and I was quickly losing my motivation to buy.

Before I knew it, it was the Saturday before Christmas and I was getting ready for my…date? with Jamie.  I was really looking forward to seeing him and catching up.  I took way too long to get ready for what should have just been a friendly dinner, but I knew that was probably not all it was.  I was just finishing my hair when the doorbell rang.

“Hi,” Jamie said with a huge grin as I pulled open the door.  He stepped inside and hugged me, pulling me tightly against him.  “It’s really good to see you.” 

“No kidding!” I agreed, returning his hug.  “You look great.”

“Not as great as you,” he countered, pulling back and looking me up and down. 

“Yeah, well, stress agrees with my waistline.”

He rolled his eyes and shook his head.  “Whatever.  Are you ready?” 

“Yeah, I just need shoes.”  I walked over to the closet and surveyed my options.  I settled on a pair of gray suede booties that I wanted to take advantage of wearing while I still could.  The suede and 3 inch heel would not be any match for later this winter when the snow and salt were unavoidable. 

As we walked out to Jamie’s car, he slipped his arm around my shoulders.  “I’m glad we were able to figure out a time to get together before you go home,” he said.  He stopped and pulled the passenger side door open for me.

I snorted and cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You know you don’t have to pretend we’re on a date to secure your chances of getting laid, right?”

He burst out laughing.  Shaking his head, he said, “Shut up and get in the car, Jenna.”  I did, and he was still shaking his head and chuckling when he shut the car door.  He walked around and got in.  “You offend me,” he said, pretending to actually be offended.  “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

“One that just got out of a long term relationship and is going out to dinner to ‘catch up’ with a former fuck buddy who just got divorced,” I replied. 

“You haven’t changed a bit, and I love it,” Jamie said, throwing the car into reverse and backing down the driveway.  “Speaking of divorced, where’s the ex-husband tonight?”

“In Chicago at some work conference,” I told him.  “He’s been gone since Wednesday and it’s been amazing.”

“And why are you still living there?  That must suck.”

I snorted.  “It does, but I have a pretty sweet set up with the whole lower level to myself.  So it sucks less than rushing out to a shitty rental that costs twice what it’s worth.”

“I guess that makes sense,” he reluctantly agreed. 

It was nice catching up with Jamie over dinner.  We filled each other in on our respective breakups and talked about our jobs.  Jamie told me about living in Seattle, which he loved.  “You should come out and visit sometime,” he suggested.

“That would be fun,” I agreed. 

When we finished dinner, Jamie asked if I wanted to go get a drink somewhere.  “How about we go have a drink at my place?” I asked.  “I’ve got whiskey, vodka, and a decent variety of wine.”

“Works for me,” he agreed. 

We headed back to my house (or Kevin’s house, I guess), and handed him the TV remote while I went to open a bottle of wine.  I poured two glasses and brought them back to the living room.  Jamie took the glass I offered him and I sat down, next to him but an appropriate distance away.  “Now who’s pretending?” he asked.  “Get over here.” 

I laughed and scooted closer to him, nestling next to him when he put his arm around me.  We made it long enough to finish our glasses of wine before we started kissing.  I shifted and straddled his lap, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and laying the other one on his chest. 

Things progressed quickly and within minutes I was naked and sprawled across the couch with Jamie’s head between my legs.  I ran my fingers over his short hair as he worked his magic with his tongue.  He was even better than I remembered, and it didn’t take long. 

He made his way back up my body, stopping to tease my nipple with his tongue.  “Do you have a bed?” he asked teasingly.  As he waited for me to answer, he sucked on my earlobe, which made it hard to think.

“I think so,” I finally responded, pressing my hips against his and groaning as he moved his mouth back down to nibble on my collarbone. 

            Jamie stopped what he was doing and laughed.  “I forgot how much your brain shuts down after you get off,” he teased me.  “Come on.”  He stood and offered me a hand.  I felt a little awkward walking downstairs naked in front of him, but I was too focused on what was to come to care too much.

            I shivered walking into my room and quickly switched the space heater on.  “It’s freezing in here,” I complained. 

            “Come here,” Jamie said.  “I’ll warm you up.”

            I cocked an eyebrow at him.  “You need to lose some clothes first.”  He was still fully clothed and I wasn’t pleased with that at all.  He grinned and obliged me, pulling off his shirt while I got to work unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.  Once I had him fully naked, I sat him down on the edge of the bed and started going down on him, returning the favor he’d paid me on the couch.  He groaned and grabbed a fistful of my hair, holding it away from my face so he could watch me. 

            I could tell he was getting close, but he tugged gently on my hair, pulling me up off my knees.  He reached for the box of condoms I had strategically placed on top of my nightstand and took one out. 

           

            He’d only been inside me for about 90 seconds when I heard footsteps upstairs.  I froze, and Jamie stopped too.  “What the fuck?” I hissed.  I shoved him away and he rolled off me.  I quickly pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants and a hoodie that were draped across my desk chair and opened my bedroom door.  When I heard the voices upstairs, I stiffened.  My teeth clenched as I realized who was walking around the house.

Continue reading →

Next post

Hi all!

The next post will be up this week, I'm just not sure when.  Life got a little out of control this week.  Thanks for your patience.

Continue reading →

Chapter 6 (3/20/16)

            “We should go out tonight,” Chelsea said when we were back in our hotel room.  I made a face.  “Seriously, Jenna?  What are you going to do, just mope around for the next 6 months?”

            “I just got divorced, Chelsea,” I snapped. 

            “Yeah, and?” she replied. 

            “What do you mean, ‘yeah, and?’” I asked incredulously.  “I just divorced the man I spent almost 10 years of my life with because he couldn't stop fucking other women.  Am I supposed to just magically get over it?  Literally 8 weeks ago we were still hanging on to our marriage and now it’s completely over.  What the hell do you expect from me?”

            Chelsea breathed an audible sigh of relief, causing me to narrow my eyes at her.  “Finally,” she said.  “It’s about time you stopped pretending that you don’t have any feelings about this.”

            “Did you just intentionally push my buttons?” I asked, gaping at her.

            “Yes,” she replied.  “Now that you’ve acknowledged how hurt you are, how are we going to get revenge?”

            I blinked at her.  “Revenge?” I asked.

            “Revenge,” she confirmed.

            “I don’t think I want revenge,” I said cautiously. 

            “Of course you do,” she replied, shaking her head.  “Listen, I’m not talking like let’s go egg his car or something, though that would be amazingly satisfying.  But in a case like this, the best revenge is moving on.  Walking away with your head high and showing him that you need no part of his bullshit to be happy.  That you’re happier without him.”

            “I don’t know if I am,” I admitted.

            She threw her arms around me and pulled me against her.  I slumped half against Chelsea and half against the back of the couch in our room.  “Of course you’re not,” she said.  “Not yet, anyway.  But you will be, someday.  You absolutely will be.  Jenna, you have to get out of that house.  You don’t have to be happy about it, but you do have to leave.  You cannot get over it and move on and get your sweet revenge if you stay there.  Can I be really honest with you for a second?”

            “Are you not already being really honest?” I grumbled.

            Ignoring me, she prattled on.  “You’re so negative.  You are not a bitter, negative person.  Sarcastic and cynical, sure.  But bitter and angry?  No.  Absolutely not.  All you’re doing by staying in that house is sitting and stewing in the bullshit that is your terrible ex-husband.  It’s making you miserable.  I know you want to buy a place, and I don’t think it hurts to look, but maybe consider something else short term while you look?”

            “I’m not ready,” I admitted.  “And I really hate the idea of moving twice.  I want to move once and be done.”

            “Moving is the worst,” she agreed.  “But maybe, just maybe, think about setting a date.  If you haven’t found a place to buy by then, maybe start looking at rentals too.”

            It was a sensible plan.  One that made sense and I couldn’t find a single reason not to do it.  But committing to a date seemed so…final.  “I’ll think about it,” I said, finally.

            “Good.  Think about it.  That’s all I’m asking.”  She was quiet for a minute, then said, “Jen?  Can I ask you something?”

            “Yep,” I replied, knowing she’d ask either way.

            “Do you still want to be with him?”

            The question hurt.  Thinking about the answer hurt more.  “No,” I said honestly.  “I still want to be with the person I thought he was, but he’s not that person.  So I don’t want to be with him.  I want my life to go back to normal, and I want to be happy.  I wish I wasn’t divorced.  I wish I’d never married him.  I hate everything about what’s happened, but I don’t still want to be with him.”

            Chelsea hugged me tightly, and I sighed.  I hadn’t said any of those things out loud yet, and it was a relief to finally do so.  “Your life will go back to normal,” she promised me.  “You’ll be happy.  It will suck for awhile, but it will get better.  I’ve never been divorced, but I’ve been through some nasty breakups, and you always think it can’t possibly get any worse or any better.  Well, it will probably get worse.  Sorry, but it’s true.  You’ll have good days and bad days and days where you only get out of bed so you don’t lose your job, even after you’ve just had 4 good days in a row.  But then, slowly, the bad days will be not as awful, and the good days will get better, and then there will be fewer bad days and more good days, and then you’ll be happy again and you won’t even realize that it happened.”

            Without any warning, I started to cry.  I’d been with Kevin for so long that this was my first real breakup.  My first real breakup…and it’s a divorce.  When I do things, I do them big.  Chelsea didn’t say anything, just kept her arm firmly around me while I added some tears and snot and mascara to the shirt she was wearing.  When I was done, she cheerfully asked what the plan for dinner was.  I appreciated the subject change and her ignoring the fact that I was just sobbing all over her.

            We decided to head out to dinner.  I washed my face and reapplied my makeup, then changed into something a little bit nicer than the jeans and hoodie I’d worn to the showings.  Chelsea chatted about random things the whole time, distracting me. 

            We’d only been at the restaurant for about 15 minutes when I saw Chelsea’s eyes get big.  I started to turn but she said, “Hey, wait, do you need another drink?”  I glared at her and turned, just in time to see Kevin with his arm around a petite blonde. 

            “That’s not even the same girl he brought home last weekend,” I muttered.

            “Do you want to go somewhere else?” Chelsea asked.

            “No, fuck him,” I said, probably a little too loudly given the public place we were in.  “He’s not going to ruin my night.”  I turned myself fully back to face Chelsea and she smiled at me.

            And I didn’t let him ruin my night.  After we ate, Chelsea talked me into going to a bar for one drink.  “Easing you back into the social scene,” she said.  I rolled my eyes, but followed her a block over to one of the better bars in the area.  She stuck to her word and we only stayed for one drink, but I couldn’t help looking around and feeling out of place.  I didn’t feel like I belonged in this scene anymore.  There were too many college students around being obnoxious.

            When we got back to the hotel, we opened one of the bottles of wine.  Halfway through it, Chelsea said, “Did you notice how many hot guys were at that bar?”

            “Not really,” I said.  All I noticed were college students.  They all looked so young to me. 

            Chelsea frowned, and then her face lit up.  “Jenna,” she said, her voice serious.

            “Chelsea,” I replied, scared to know what she was going to suggest next.

            “You need to make an online dating profile.”

            I couldn’t help it.  I laughed.  I completely lost it, sprawling sideways across the bed.  “Chels, I’ve been divorced for 5 minutes,” I replied when I finally caught my breath.  “I still live with my ex-husband.  I’m not ready to date.”

            “You don’t have to use it to date,” she said, shaking her head.

            “I don’t think I’m ready to have sex with strangers either,” I informed her.  Potentially having sex with Jamie was daunting enough, and I knew him well.  And we’d done it before.

            “That’s not what I meant,” she told me.  “Look, you have no idea what’s even out there.  Let’s find out!”  She had a look on her face I knew well: there was no talking her out of this.

            “Chels,” I protested weakly, but she was already on her feet and fishing her laptop out of her bag.  Within minutes she had created a profile for me on some stupid free dating site and was prowling my Facebook pictures, looking for the perfect one.  I laid back on the bed and listened to her talking happily to herself as she selected a picture, saved it, and uploaded it to my new online dating profile.  “This is ridiculous, you know that, right?”

            “Don’t care, can’t hear you,” she replied in a sing-song voice.  I groaned and got up to pour myself another glass of wine.  “Okay, we’re done!  Come here and look at all your potential future husbands!”

            I groaned again, loudly this time.  I trudged back over to the bed, filled up her wine glass, and sat down next to her.  We spent the next 40 minutes inspecting profiles.  Well, she spent the next 40 minutes inspecting profiles.  I, on the other hand, stared blankly at the computer screen and nodded when she got excited about a profile.  “You should send him a message,” she said, pointing to one. 

            “No,” I replied.  “This is for ‘seeing what’s out there’, remember?  I don’t want to send anyone messages.”  She pouted, but I refused to give in.  With a grumble, she moved to the next.  By the time she finally got bored, I was ready for bed. 

            Once the lights were off and we were nestled in the king sized bed, I said, “Chels?”

            “Yeah?” she asked sleepily.

            “Thanks,” I said.

            “For what?”

            “For the talk earlier.  I needed that.”  It might not have done much, but I was thinking about it at least. 

            “You’re welcome,” she replied, and in the dark I heard her head move on the pillow.  “Be kind to yourself.  That’s all you can do right now.”

            “Yeah,” I agreed.  I took a deep breath, then rolled over and closed my eyes.

Continue reading →