Authors: Melanie Dawn
Copyright © 2013 Melanie Dawn
Cover Design by Brett Fabrizio
Editing by Kathleen Lilley
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin,
Images used under license from
Permission for use of fictional character, Seth Jordan, and his fictional band, The Rifters, was obtained by Erika Ashby.
Permission for use of book title, It All Started With a Lima Bean, was obtained by Kimi Flores.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, or incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to the actual events, locales, and persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is no authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
This book is intended for readers 17+ due to some explicit language and mature themes.
To my family
You are everything I need and nothing I deserve.
Each thundering crash of the ocean waves in the distance administered a dose of therapy to my soul. With my towel draped across my lounge chair, I reclined by the water’s edge sipping a Piña Colada from a hurricane glass adorned by a tiny pink umbrella. My life had all but suffocated me the past few months, and I desperately needed a change of scenery.
Lisa’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Come on, Kaitlyn. Let’s go inside and get ready to par-tay,” she called, overemphasizing her last word. Lisa’s head bobbed up and down in the water as she swam past me toward the pool ladder.
I suppressed a laugh. Only late twenty-somethings remember when it was cool to pronounce it ‘par-tay.’ There was no need to point out the fact that we were nearly too old to hit the clubs.
Two guys standing at the tiki bar turned to stare at Lisa as she stepped out of the water. She reminded me of a supermodel as she brushed her long brown hair away from her eyes. I met Lisa soon after she found out she was pregnant with her second son. I thought she was the most beautiful pregnant woman I had ever seen. However, Lisa’s sweet disposition far outweighed her attractiveness. Like a fair-complexioned cartoon princess, I could almost picture the birds singing to her while they helped her fold the laundry at home. Unaware of the caliber of her beauty, she never seemed to notice when other men were checking her out. She had been happily married to her high school sweetheart for almost seven years.
I watched the two beefcake rubbernecks at the tiki bar gawk at her over their mirrored aviator sunglasses and chuckled under my breath. “Okay, let’s go,” I replied, before gulping the rest of my drink.
The other girls were toweling off and grabbing their bags to head upstairs to the condo. I looked around my mini-paradise, content with my surroundings. The palm trees swayed against the warm breeze, while the seagulls flew overhead searching for their next meal. The stark white sand glistened for miles under the hot sun, while the swells of the ocean waves toppled against the shore. For the first time I felt a freedom that I hadn’t experienced in quite some time.
I left my single life of drinking and dancing behind the day I found out I was pregnant with Eli. Michael and I had no plans of marriage until we saw those two pink lines on that cold November morning. I had set my future of becoming a pediatric psychologist aside while I made arrangements to become a stay-at-home mom. My entire life seemed to have been on hold the last five years. I quickly learned that being a stay-at-home mom was not all picnics and play dates. I felt trapped under the interminable mountain of laundry, lost amid the infinite overflow of dirty dishes, and exhausted from the incessant whine of a tired and cranky child who only seemed to be comforted by the everlasting song of a purple dinosaur. I couldn’t remember the last time I had enjoyed a night out; I was actually looking forward to it.
I assumed Michael and Eli were just sitting down for dinner at Burger Land. Michael, the staunch and successful CPA at a thriving accounting firm, was much too busy to cook while I was away. He almost balked at the idea of my weekend escape:
“Kaitlyn, I just can’t afford for you to leave right now. I need to go into work the next few weekends to prepare for several upcoming meetings. Work is just more important than some silly girls’ retreat right now.”
“That’s the problem, Michael. Your work. Our lives revolve around your work. You always put your work before your family.”
“My work pays the bills. Last time I checked, laundry and dishes don’t pay the bills.”
“That’s just it, Michael. Laundry and dishes don’t pay the bills, nor do they create a fulfilling life! I’m worth more than just being a servant for this family! Do you know how depressing it is when your daily goal in life is to sweep up crackers off the floor and dig rocks out of pants pockets before throwing them in the washing machine? I feel like I’m in solitary confinement most of the time. Then, my husband comes home and carries his plate of supper into his office only to disappear for hours on end, coming to bed well after I’ve gone to
. That happens so often these days that sex is barely even in our vocabulary anymore. I’ve spent the last five years in this unfulfilling life, wiping asses and noses, sweeping crumbs off the floor, and passing a practically nonexistent husband occasionally in the hallway!” Five years of pent up frustration barreled its way out of me in harsh tones and salty tears.