Love Left Behind
Authors: S. H. Kolee
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Romance, #Contemporary
Love Left Behind
by S.H. Kolee
Copyright © 2012 S.H. Kolee
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or
distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the
author.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are
fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and
not intended by the author.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter
One
How far can obligation
take you? It almost took me to the altar. Marrying the boy you started dating
at fifteen is either a fairy tale or insanity. Sean Somers and I started dating
our freshman year of high school. We grew up together through a parent's death,
a divorce, proms and pregnancy scares. I loved Sean, although a part of me
realized there was no passion in our relationship. He was like a trusted
confidante, a best friend. But the love of my life? I wasn't so sure.
I assumed that college
would be the wedge that would make us drift apart. I had accepted a partial
scholarship to the University of Chicago and Sean was staying behind in
Maryland to attend the local university. It wasn't for lack of trying that Sean
didn't attend the same college as me. However, the University of Chicago had
rejected him, and a small secret part of me had been happy. I could start over
in Chicago and become a new person. I was tired of being boring Emma Mills;
dependable daughter, straight-A student, church volunteer.
However, I had
underestimated Sean's persistence and determination. Although we had promised each
other that we would call and visit faithfully, Chicago was an expensive plane
ride away. I didn't think it would actually happen. I hadn't realized that Sean
had been squirreling away his paychecks from his summer jobs, saving enough
money to be able to visit me every month.
And college hadn't been
what I had expected it to be. I thought I would become a fascinating new
person, with exciting friends and adventures around every corner. Instead, I
realized I was still the same Emma Mills. I was still dependable. I was still
earning straight-A's. I was still volunteering at church.
It became easier to go
with what was comfortable. Sean was comfortable. He was dependable, just like
me. So when he suggested that I move back to Maryland after graduation and take
a job in D.C. so that we could start a life together, I agreed.
For three years, I was
tolerably happy. Everyone envied our relationship. We both liked our jobs and
enjoyed living right outside of D.C. in an up-and-coming neighborhood in
Maryland. We rarely fought and I believed that I would spend the rest of my
life with Sean. Therefore, when he proposed to me on my twenty-fourth birthday
by stuffing a ring inside my birthday cake, I accepted with glee. My life was
proceeding right on track.
But as the wedding day
came closer and closer, I started to feel as if I was suffocating. We had our
life totally mapped out before us. Sean was an analyst at a prestigious
financial firm and was on track for a promotion to manager. I was a marketing
executive at an ad agency, and we figured I would work there a few more years
until we started having children. Then I would be a stay-at-home mom.
I tried to buy into the
vision, but I began to realize that it wasn't the mapped out life that was
really bothering me.
It was the
person I planned on spending that life with.
Sean didn't like to
travel. He liked to stay home and watch television. Our sex life had been
reduced to a chaste daily kiss with an obligatory roll in the hay once every
couple of weeks. He bored me to tears, and I was sure I did the same to him.
Yet every time I would question how happy he was in our relationship, he
claimed that he was perfectly content.
The further we got into
the wedding planning, the more my doubts grew, but it became harder and harder
to think about calling it off. I had already sent the invitations out, for
Pete’s sake. How tacky would it be to have to rescind a wedding invitation? So
I went along and picked out our wedding cake, listened to different bands, and
had long drawn-out conversations about which caterer to use.
Until my bachelorette
party. My girlfriends and I had done the predictable thing and gone to Vegas.
We squealed in mortification and delight over the Chippendale dancers, we lost
money on the slots and we drank ourselves to oblivion.
On our last night, my
best friend Trisha and I were at a club sitting at a table by ourselves while
our friends gyrated on the dance floor. She leaned over to me and asked,
"Can you believe you're getting married in less than a month?"
My answer was no. I
couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't spend my whole
life being boring, predictable Emma Mills. It was selfish of me. It was
horrible of me. But I knew I was saving Sean and myself from a mind-numbingly
boring life together.
So I called it off.
The day I got back from
Vegas, I sat Sean down in the living room of our apartment. The one we had
spent months decorating together by going to estate sales and flea markets,
trying to restore pieces of furniture ourselves to save money. It reminded me
that for all the dull moments in our life together, there had been sweet
moments as well. We were comfortable together. But comfortable wasn't enough
for me anymore.
When I had explained
why we didn't belong together, that we were no good for each other, Sean had
been shocked and devastated. He didn't understand where this was coming from.
He thought I had been happy all these years. And a part of me had been happy,
but it wasn't enough.
Sean's coaxing and
tears weren't enough to sway me. I had made my decision and was sticking to it.
As embarrassing as it was to call off the wedding and return all the presents,
I was relieved. I felt like I had narrowly escaped.
Now I was furthering my
escape by moving to New York City. I had accepted a job as an executive
assistant there. It was several steps below my position in D.C., but I was
grateful for anything that would get me out of Maryland and away from the
scandal of a jilted groom.
I was taking the train
to New York since I had sold my car back in Maryland. I had no need for a car
in New York and all my belongings fit into two big suitcases. Sean and I had
broken the lease on our apartment and sold all our furniture, splitting the
profits, so I was literally traveling with all my belongings. It felt freeing.
I was moving in with
Claire Ranson, the daughter of a family friend who had been living in New York
for a few years. Claire was an aspiring actress with a revolving door of
roommates since they were also mostly actors and tended to go where the jobs
took them. We had already talked on the phone several times and I was excited
to meet her in person.
The train conductor
called out the impending stop of Penn Station and I felt a quiver of excitement
go through me. Finally, at the age of twenty-five, I was going to make a
different life for myself. I was going to become a new person and embrace
everything New York had to offer.
Before the train even
came to a halt, people were jumping out of their seats to rush off the train,
haphazardly pulling their suitcases from the overhead baggage compartments. I
looked up at my two large worn and unfashionably burgundy-colored suitcases
with resignation. Having never traveled much, I hadn't owned much luggage. I
had bought these suitcases at a second-hand store when I made the decision to
move to New York and had stuffed them to the brim.
Now I was unsure as to
how I was going to get them down and lug them all the way to the East Village,
where my new apartment was. When I had boarded the train, a nice man had helped
me put them overhead, but he was long gone. I grimaced in determination and
grabbed a handle to pull them down. The new Emma Mills was independent, a
go-getter. She could handle anything, least of all two suitcases.
The thought was fleeting,
as the first suitcase came crashing down. I wasn't able to support the weight
of it, and it slammed into the aisle with a loud thud. Well, that was one way
to do it. Reminding myself that I had nothing fragile in my suitcases, I hauled
down the second suitcase using the same method.
I was finally able to
lug the suitcases off the train and navigated my way around the station,
pulling them behind me on their little worn wheels. I caught flashes of
designer luggage and imagined I looked a sight with my huge shabby suitcases
and disheveled hair. It really was true that New York was full of beautiful
people, even in the train station.
Shrugging off those
thoughts, I maneuvered the two suitcases up the escalator and squinted as I got
my first sight of the city as a New Yorker. I had visited New York once before
with my parents when I was in middle school but it was a fuzzy memory. Now I
was one of them; one of those people rushing around with important things to
do. If I was aware that I stuck out like a sore thumb, standing on the sidewalk
and gawking at the view, I didn't let it bother me. New York was for everyone.
And I was everyone.
Hailing a cab was
easier than I thought since they were lined up outside the station. I had been
prepared to step out into the street with bravado and hail a cab with a casual
wave of the hand, like I had seen Carrie Bradshaw do so many times. But my Sex
in the City moment would have to wait.
"Where to?"
the cabbie asked brusquely after he threw my suitcases into the trunk and slid
back into the driver's seat.
"1st avenue
between 8th and 9th street." I had practiced that line beforehand, not
wanting to seem green and having the cabbie drive me through Brooklyn to take
advantage of an unsuspecting out-of-towner.
The cab driver barely
nodded as he sped away from the curb. I watched the crowded sidewalks, feeling
a thrill go through me. Everyone seemed to be walking with purpose, coffee cups
in hand and an air of determination. I, Emma Mills, was now a New Yorker.
My first experience as
a New Yorker was trying not to throw up as the cabbie made abrupt stops and
weaved his way in and out of traffic as if we were in a video game. I had to
hold on to the door handle to prevent myself from being thrown against the
plastic partition. By the time the cab stopped on my street, I was taking deep
breaths and willing myself not to regurgitate the bagel I had eaten that
morning.
The cabbie dropped my
bags on the sidewalk after I had paid him and took off. I looked up at my
apartment building, feeling a bit of trepidation at the dilapidated sight
before me. The building looked worn and outdated, obviously not having been
well maintained. Claire had emailed me pictures of the inside of the apartment
and it had looked cute and cozy. I hadn't seen the crumbling brick on the
outside or the steps that were in desperate need of repair.
I took a deep breath,
reminding myself that the new Emma Mills took all these things in stride. With
that thought, I pressed the buzzer to apartment 4C.
"Hello?" said
a female voice.
"Claire? It's
Emma. I made it!"
"Great! I'll buzz
you up! Do you need help with your bags?"
I paused, looking down
at my gigantic suitcases. I definitely needed help, but the last thing I wanted
was to have my new roommate lug them upstairs.