Divorced in Danville Read online

  Divorced in Danville

  Danville Singles, Volume 1

  E. M. Sadler

  Published by E. M. Sadler, 2019.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  DIVORCED IN DANVILLE

  First edition. January 22, 2019.

  Copyright © 2019 E. M. Sadler.

  ISBN: 978-1386035947

  Written by E. M. Sadler.

  Also by E. M. Sadler

  Danville Singles

  Divorced in Danville

  Partnering in Paradise (Coming Soon)

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By E. M. Sadler

  Dedication

  Prologue – Kelly

  Chapter 1 – Kelly

  Chapter 2 – Dale

  Chapter 3 – Kelly

  Chapter 4 - Dale

  Chapter 5 – Kelly

  Chapter 6 – Dale

  Chapter 7 – Kelly

  Chapter 8 – Dale

  Chapter 9 – Kelly

  Chapter 10 – Dale

  Chapter 11 – Kelly

  Chapter 12 – Dale

  Chapter 13 – Kelly

  Chapter 14 – Dale

  Chapter 15 – Kelly

  Chapter 16 – Dale

  Chapter 17 – Kelly

  Chapter 18 – Dale

  Chapter 19 – Kelly

  Chapter 20 – Dale

  Chapter 21 – Kelly

  Chapter 22 – Dale

  Chapter 23 – Kelly

  Chapter 24 – Dale

  Chapter 25 – Kelly

  Chapter 26 – Dale

  Chapter 27- Kelly

  Chapter 28– Dale

  Chapter 29– Kelly

  Chapter 30– Dale

  Chapter 31– Kelly

  Chapter 32 – Dale

  Chapter 33 – Kelly

  Chapter 34– Dale

  Chapter 35 – Kelly

  Chapter 36 - Dale

  Chapter 37 – Kelly

  Chapter 38 – Dale

  Chapter 39 – Kelly

  Chapter 40 – Dale

  Chapter 41 – Kelly

  Chapter 42 – Dale

  Chapter 43 – Kelly

  Chapter 44 – Dale

  Chapter 45 – Kelly

  Chapter 46 – Dale

  Chapter 47 – Kelly

  Chapter 48 – Dale

  Chapter 49 – Kelly

  Chapter 50 – Dale

  Chapter 51 – Kelly

  Chapter 52 – Dale

  Chapter 53 – Kelly

  Chapter 54 – Dale

  Chapter 55 – Kelly

  Chapter 56 – Dale

  Chapter 57 – Kelly

  Chapter 58 – Polly

  Chapter 59 – Dale

  Chapter 60 – Kelly

  Chapter 61 - Dale

  Chapter 62 – Kelly

  Chapter 63 – Dale

  Chapter 64 – Kelly

  Chapter 65 – Dale

  Chapter 66 – Kelly

  Chapter 67 – Dale

  Chapter 68 – Kelly

  Chapter 69 – Dale

  Chapter 70 – Kelly

  Chapter 71– Dale

  Chapter 72 – Kelly

  Chapter 73 – Dale

  Chapter 74 – Kelly

  Sign up for E. M. Sadler's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Partnering in Paradise

  About the Author

  For my Grandpa

  Special Thanks to:

  Pam, Mandy, Jen, Lisa, and Wendy who took the time to read my crazy little book and for all of the mistakes they helped me find.

  And to Chanel Feemster who designed the best cover I could have dreamed of.

  And to Sarah Tucker for taking my author picture.

  Prologue – Kelly

  I'm not quite sure what event most impacted my desire to finally file for divorce.

  Could it have been when I was put on bed rest for five days, and he only checked on me three times?

  Or maybe it was when he made me grovel for forgiveness during a contraction for being grumpy with him while I was in labor.

  And maybe it could have been when he went two days without talking with me as punishment for our infant crying too much one night while I went out to a church fundraiser and he was “forced” to soothe her.

  Regardless, I remember the moment I decided that a divorce was inevitable.

  I had just awoken from having my tubes tied, and because the anesthesiologist had used an outdated weight chart instead of looking at my history of overdose from sensitivity, I was ultimately out of it for an hour past regular recovery time.

  My memories are pretty foggy of that day, but I still remember snippets of heart-wrenching devastation.

  While recovering, I woke about every 10 minutes in hysterical tears, revealing to the nurse that my husband was no longer in love with me, that I was still in love with him, and that I could never understand how I had ended up so lonely.

  Once I had finally recovered enough to be sent to my outpatient room, I remember lying there and feeling like part of me was forever broken. For days, my heart hurt, and when everyone in the house was asleep, I would lie in bed crying until I fell asleep.

  Because my husband had refused marriage counseling and had told me repeatedly that the problem was that I just wasn't likable, I finally decided that I needed a healthy escape till I was in a situation where I would be able to branch out on my own.

  That is when I rediscovered my love for reading.

  At the time I was spending multiple hours a day nursing my then small daughter, so reading became a way for me to avoid getting depressingly lost in the happy lives of Facebook friends, and instead imagined life without hopelessness.

  Though I know that my logic was flawed in my reliance on romantic fiction to help me imagine a different life, it did the trick. A year after I finally acknowledged my broken heart and marriage, I filed for divorce.

  Today, 90 days after my filing, I finally found myself a free woman.

  Now the question was, "Where does my life go from here?"

  Chapter 1 – Kelly

  Seven months later

  It's official! I. Have. Lost. My. Ever-loving. Mind!

  How did a quirky housewife (or I should say former housewife), who hasn't had an orgasm during sex in four years, end up in a New York City hotel bar waiting for a booty call?

  Not just any booty call, a PITY booty call set up by my crazy college friend Rane who happens to be roommates with a self-proclaimed man-whore willing to have sex with any woman, any time.

  I should have felt lucky. After all, I am an overweight divorcee who is trying to get her lady bits working again, but.... OMG, what was I doing???

  I couldn't do this! I needed to go!

  As I started to walk out of the door, I had to mentally smack myself to stop from leaving.

  You have to do this, Kelly.

  You are not allowed to chicken out!

  Kelly, you NEED this!!!

  After thoroughly ranting at myself, I walked back towards the bar, and I decided then that it was best to go ahead and order a vodka cranberry.

  Alcohol tended to have a calming effect on my nerves.

  I had never done this before... casual sex.

  A virgin until I was 25, and then again abstinent till I was 30, all of my sexual experiences had been more than lacking. Even my ex-husband, who I was married to for eight years, only conjured seven orgasms the entire time we were together, the last of which was during the conception of our first child.

  UGH!!!! Where was this guy? He was already late, and I was seriously
going to lose my gumption if he didn't show soon. I probably should have asked for a picture, but I didn't want to psych myself out and find a reason not to meet him.

  Back before I was married, anytime a friend would set me up and forward me a picture of said date, I would always find fault in some part of their appearance. It's why I told Rane that she was absolutely NOT allowed to send me a picture of her roommate Dale.

  All I knew of his appearance was that he was 42, brown-haired, 6 foot plus, and named Dale. Thus, I figured it should be easy to find him. After all, how many guys are named Dale these days?

  Maybe he was already here, and I was just too much in my head to pay attention to my surroundings. Taking a moment to look around, I scoped out three men who could potentially be the mythical Dale.

  Possible Dale #1: brown hair, metrosexual clothing, aaaannnndddd... now I see the girlfriend.

  Next!

  Possible Dale #2... not bad, but a little angry looking to be the fun-loving man-candy that roomed with Rane.

  Didn't she always talk about how absurdly happy he was? It was probably all of the sex. Now that I think about it, Rane talks about him a lot and had brought him up in every single one of our conversations since 2008. Maybe she was secretly in love with him and in denial.

  What if I destroyed our friendship in the hopes of an orgasm and she could never forgive me for sleeping with her one true love?

  Shut up, Kelly!!!!!

  Rane was not a masochist. She wouldn't set you up for a booty call with her dream man. Stop trying to talk yourself out of this. After all, when we met for coffee just the other day she was practically bouncing over the fact that her boyfriend Michael had taken her ring shopping. That was definitely not the behavior of a woman lost in unrequited love.

  With a mental shake, my focus switched to the last possible Dale.

  POSSIBLE DALE #3. BROWN hair, dressed a little fancier than I would have guessed, very handsome in a nerdy Matthew Goode way, and SHIT!

  He was looking right at me.

  Awkwardly, I averted my eyes to the menu propped up by my chair. I needed to collect my nerves before approaching my target.

  That had to be him.

  Dale was supposed to meet me here at 7:00 pm. Since it was now 7:15 pm, and #3 was still staring at me as if he somehow knew me, I decided that this must be my date for the evening.

  All right, it was time to get my shit together, go over there and talk to the man to verify if he's Dale, and spend the night learning how to sex again.

  After all, I was not here to waste time. I had a babysitter for the night, and I was here to get laid so that I could regain my sexual confidence.

  Although, I'm not quite sure I ever had any sexual confidence to begin with.

  As I slowly made my way over to verify Dale #3's identity, my senses were overwhelmed by the pull his eyes had on me.

  Damn, weren’t those dark brown eyes beautiful?

  With our eyes remaining locked, I also saw a little bit of humor cross his face as I approached. Or was that excitement?

  As I said, I was out of my depths.

  Hoping that his facial expression meant that he was reflecting on our situation and not mocking me, I bravely asked, "Excuse me, but is your name, Dale?"

  Chapter 2 – Dale

  "Excuse me, but is your name Dale?" asked the cute brunette with the sexy brown eyes who I’d been watching for the last thirty minutes.

  "Yes?"

  "Is that a question?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrow.

  "Well my name is Dale, and I'm waiting on my date Shelly who I was supposed to meet here at 7:30 pm. Are you Shelly?"

  "Kelly, actually. I thought we agreed on 7:00 pm? No worries though, we both made it," she said waving away my obvious faux pax.

  "Crap, I'm sorry. There was so much noise around me when I heard your name yesterday that I must have heard wrong. It's great to meet you finally. What can I get you to drink, Kelly not Shelly?"

  Pointing to her glass that was still half full, she said, "I'm still working on my vodka cranberry, but I usually only stick with one drink, or I get a little tipsy."

  Taking this time to notice how fidgety she was I asked, "Are you okay?"

  "Oh, sorry. I tend to fidget when I get nervous," she admitted with a blush.

  "Don't be nervous. I promise I don't bite," I said trying to come across as flirty and not creepy. I wasn't expecting the raw vulnerability that was coming off of her. It was refreshing compared to the aggressive behavior of the single women in my town, especially after word started to spread regarding my divorce earlier this year.

  Note to self: Must treat Kevin to dinner next time I'm in town for setting me up with his cousin.

  Kelly was very much my type. With a beautiful full figure, thick brown hair and the most beautiful skin I've ever seen.

  Yes, she was absolutely my type physically.

  My biggest concern while getting ready for this evening was that I'd revert to the nerdy version of myself that I was back in college before I met my ex. It would be a shame if she decided that I was too much of a nerd and I blew my chances with her.

  My last actual date was with my ex-wife back in 2010 years before John and Katie were born. And since I hadn't dated anyone but her since 2002, I was a little out of my depths.

  When I first met Maggie, I was a nerdy 24-year-old who was too shy to be any good at dating. This was one of the reasons that both of my previous girlfriends only stuck around for a few months. It probably didn't help that I was so focused on keeping my scholarship that I ended up making them feel neglected as well.

  Even though I had come a long way since those days, I still struggled with feeling inadequate since the years preceding my divorce were filled with constant romantic and physical rejection.

  Once we had the twins, Maggie claimed to be filled with guilt anytime we did anything without them. Though I loved my children dearly, her ‘guilt' prevented us from sharing intimacies couples need to maintain their relationship while raising children.

  Multiple times I arranged for babysitters so that we could have time to ourselves only to have her cry until I turned the car around. The babysitters eventually came to expect us back within 30 minutes of any departure.

  I wish I had suggested couples' therapy before things spiraled out of control. By the time the twins were three, I had finally built up the courage to suggest that there may be a problem in my marriage.

  To say that my suggestion did not go over how I expected was an understatement.

  In my mind I thought of myself as the Rom-Com hero who surprises his wife with his level of compassion, only to have her so moved by her love's concern that she throws herself into saving their marriage.

  Instead, Maggie busted into tears and admitted that she'd been having an affair with her yoga instructor for over three years. A yoga instructor she met in her pregnancy yoga class, while pregnant with OUR children.

  The years since the twins' birth finally had a new perspective. Maggie wasn't feeling guilty about leaving the twins. She felt guilty because, in her mind, being with me was cheating on her yoga instructing boyfriend.

  How screwed up was that?

  No wonder we had only had sex 12 times in the three years that followed the twins birth, accompanied by a year and half of no sex before the divorce.

  Not wanting to taint my night of fun with continued thoughts of my screwed up marriage, I gave myself a mental shake so that I could dedicate my focus to the intriguingly sweet brunette making bedroom eyes at me.

  "Well, how do you usually handle dates? Do you want to talk first, or should we go straight up to my hotel room?" she asked attempting to come across as calm.

  I knew she wasn't calm based on the fact that she was currently jiggling her knee up and down under the bar.

  I must admit that I was incredibly turned on by her bluntness and her nervousness. Kevin said he was setting me up with his cousin who was known to be a sure thing, but I at le
ast expected to have dinner with her first.

  Wasn't the purpose of this to help me get back in the saddle before I joined one of those dating apps and made a fool out of myself?

  Fuck it! I haven't gotten laid in almost two years, and I was going to be a selfish prick for once in my life.

  "If you're okay with skipping to the end, I am too," I declared trying not to appear overly eager.

  She seemed a little taken aback by my directness.

  "Unless you're unsure?" I added wanting her to be the decision maker.

  "I'm sure! Let's do this!" she said with an adorable squeak while throwing back the rest of her drink.

  Before I had too much time to overthink, I lead her out of the bar placing my hand on her lower back.

  As we walked towards the elevators, she began to walk a little faster than me, which finally gave me the opportunity to check out the goddess that was about to help me reclaim my libido.

  Not bad.

  Though slightly on the heavy side, Kelly carried it confidently, which was the most attractive feature a woman could have.

  But, I had never been shallow when it came to size and had always preferred softer women. My ex was a beautiful size 16 till she took up yoga and suddenly dropped four sizes. Though she was still beautiful to me at the time, her new found health consciousness was how we ended up pregnant with the twins when her doctors had previously thought she would be unable to conceive naturally.

  According to her OBGYN, it wasn’t uncommon for women who have a difficult time becoming pregnant, to suddenly conceive after such a drastic weight-loss.

  Thus, yoga gave me both the greatest blessings of my life (my children) and the most devastating event of my life (my broken marriage).

  Waiting by the elevator doors for our car to arrive, we both began fidgeting with our hands to pass the time. Kelly was strumming her thigh lightly like it was a keytar and I was fiddling around for non-existent items in my jacket pocket.

  What was the protocol here? Should I take her hand? Is that what 40-year-old men do when they are on a date? Or was this just a booty call in Kelly's eyes making the traditional courting rituals redundant?