Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107204 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
However, I struggled with how much the town seemed to judge my situation. I had a few individuals remark that marriages were supposed to be fought for, not disposed of so spontaneously. Some whispered about me when they thought I was out of earshot, while others said it to my face. People in Honey Creek loved my ex-husband.
They couldn’t comprehend why I’d leave such a sweet man. It made sense that they’d thought that way—Cole was an angel to the external world. He was approachable and charismatic. He was the guy who’d help baptize your baby on Sunday morning and then grab a beer with you on Monday night at a sports bar. If a cat was stuck in a tree, he was climbing it.
He was Honey Creek’s leading man, the perfect gentleman and the town’s new favorite chief of police. People loved that man. Cole Parker was a charmer to the outer world, and now I was the cruel woman who chose to walk away.
I supposed that was the problem with keeping your struggles to yourself—nobody understood how I was drowning behind closed doors. If only they would have stepped into our private lives and seen how Cole treated me.
They would’ve run, too.
Nobody even knew how bad it got sometimes, not even my family. I was too ashamed to share the worst days. They would’ve scolded me for not leaving sooner. My ex-husband wasn’t only verbally abusive. He also had an issue with a wandering dick. That thing always ended up in places it didn’t belong. I applauded any woman who had the opportunity of meeting said penis. It was probably the most mediocre three minutes of their lives—four minutes if he had caffeine.
Outside of the town’s judgment, one might’ve asked me what the most challenging part of the divorce had been. That was an easy answer for me.
Cole. Was. Everywhere.
Legit everywhere. For a while, I thought he was stalking me. Or, perhaps, he cloned himself a few times. Then I figured he had a few other guys from the police station tracking me. Dating alone was hard. Yet dating while Cole lurked in the wings was almost impossible because everyone knew him and didn’t want to step on “his property.” His property? What a joke. I was as much his property as the birds in the sky belonged to the sea. It was such a 1920s concept, but the people in town seemed to follow the new chief’s ridiculous rules.
It was like he was the freaking king gorilla of the town.
Me, man. She, ex-wife. You, no touch.
Insert the pounding of his chest.
Even guys who expressed interest in me told me they couldn’t take me out on a date due to respect for Cole.
The idea of a date seemed so foreign to me; what I wouldn’t do to have a first date again. I couldn’t even recall the last date I had.
After a few years into our marriage, Cole stopped taking me out unless it was going to Chicago to watch a sporting event or have drinks with his buddies and their wives at the sports bar. Anything I considered romantic was corny to him, so we hardly participated in them. If we did, he’d complain the whole time before we left, then fake like he was having the time of his life in public before returning home and yelling at me. That just made me avoid doing activities with him.
Luckily, I spent the past year doing all the dates Cole refused to take me on. I attended candle-making classes, winery tours, and paint-and-sip nights. I even took tango lessons with my two left feet. I found a lot of happiness in my year of discovery, but that didn’t remove the fact that I still yearned for companionship.
I didn’t need to fall in love, but I wasn’t against falling in like. A crush would’ve been satisfactory. I wanted to have a crush on somebody. I didn’t even know what that felt like anymore, but the idea of butterflies thrilled me.
When it came to dating, I missed so much.
I missed handholding. The kind of handholding when someone was slightly ahead of you, not looking in your direction, but he reached backward with his hand extended, knowing you’d find your perfect fit tangled with his fingers.
And kissing!
Gosh, I missed kissing. Not just deep, passionate kisses, though those were fun. But I meant the forehead kisses. The tip of the nose kisses. The soft cheek pecks. The neck caresses that sent tingles of joy down one’s spine.
I missed all of that. So year one was all about me, myself, and I. It turned out I enjoyed me, myself, and I. Now, I needed someone else to appreciate me, too. The current year would be defined as Yara out on the prowl—if only Cole would stop freaking scaring the men of Honey Creek off. Dating apps and expanding my search to Chicago was the last option on my list to try. After hearing Willow’s nightmare stories from the dating apps, I was more than apprehensive to dive into that world.