“And where would I live?”
“With me. You can crash on the futon in my office. It’ll be like old times.”
“I’m a little old to be sleeping on a futon.”
“You’re a little old to be drunk-texting your ex.”
Thank goodness she can’t see the face I’m making at her correct yet unappreciated statement.
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Approaching my building, I rest the phone on my shoulder as I take the keys from my purse and open the front door.
“Think about it. Offer is always on the table. Now, let me get some sleep because some people have to get up and feed children in the morning.”
I push the front door open and start the climb to my third-floor walk-up. “You only have one child, and she could probably raise herself since she’s so independent.”
“True,” she concedes and then adds, “Come to Napa. You’ll love it. Okay, that’s the last time I’m asking…today.”
We hang up the phone just as I step into my apartment. Falling back on the couch, my body relaxes, and the memories I wanted to forget start to surface.
I met Steven in Paris when I was twenty-three-years-old. I was taking a year off after graduation to “find myself.” My parents are heavy supporters of traveling by yourself for a year before you start the grind of day-to-day adult life. They’re kind of hippie-ish that way.
There I was, in the City of Lights, eating escargot and sipping Bordeaux when I spotted him sitting at a table nearby. He was alone and reading Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. Even if he wasn’t American, I knew he at least spoke English based on the edition in his hands. He had curly sandy hair and cherub cheeks and looked like a nice enough guy. Lonely for company, I walked up to his table and asked him about the book. I quickly learned he was from Michigan and, like me, was backpacking through Europe.
After a long evening of wine and watching the lights of the Eiffel Tower sparkle, we got to know each other. By the end of the night we agreed to meet up the next day and then the next and the next.
Over six weeks we traveled across Europe together. We rode a gondola in Venice, drank Spaten at Oktoberfest, saw the windmills of Amsterdam, and tried to make the guards of Buckingham Palace smile. When it came time for Steven to travel back to the states, we decided we couldn’t be apart. We eloped at City Hall in New York City and I followed him to his hometown of Clawson.
I fell in-love with Steven in six weeks and six-months later I was packing my bags and heading home to New York. It was the first and only time my heart was broken. Shortly after moving to Clawson, I learned that the Steven I fell in-love with was not the real-life version of him. I fell for the fairy tale. The truth was, we didn’t have anything in common.
He was from an affluent family, me a modest upbringing.
He wanted a wife who would stay home and cook dinner. I can’t scramble an egg.
He hated classical music and didn’t see the cello as a viable career.
He loved hunting, took offense when I wouldn’t eat his kill and couldn’t appreciate my passion for animals.
And to top it off, he said he didn’t want children.
We fought about everything and nothing. Our days were filled with bitterness and contempt. When I finally left, he never followed.
He was the first person I pictured growing old with. My first romance, my first love, and my first marriage. Seeing him happy with a family made me sad for the life I once thought we were going to have together.
One I thought I’d have for myself by now.
Maybe Naomi is right. I need to try something new.
What is wrong with me?
I can’t quit my job and just haul ass across the country. Yeah, sure, I was fired from my weekend gig, but I still have a day job. I teach at the Juliette Academy, a music school in the city. I can’t just not be there when school starts next month…can I?
I am just about to get up and take the longest shower known to mankind when my phone chimes. I have a new text message from a number I don’t recognize. When I open it, I literally gasp at the photo of something I unfortunately recognize too well.
I am currently looking at the hammer in all its morning glory and a text message.
Ian: Mjolnir is looking for someone who is worthy and summons you back with its powers.
I don’t understand Thor references, but I have a pretty good idea Mjolnir is Ian’s penis.
I need to get out of this city.
I’ve officially lost my mind.
WILD ABANDON IS AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON.
Acknowledgments
A year and a half ago, I started writing a book about a woman who falls for a man in a support group. She worked at an orthopedist’s office where her best friend was a doctor. I sent the book to my first-run beta reader, Stefanie Pace, who asked me a great question: “Is this a love triangle?”
It was not.
Because of Stefani’s insight, I was able to see there was another story brewing and that Dr. Christian Gallagher was a hero. I ripped his chapters—the first office scene and Meadow’s birthday barbecue, including the three suitors!—from my work in progress and thus began the creation of A Really Bad Idea.
Around the halfway point, I scrapped it. My mother got sick… really sick and was in the cardiac care unit of our local hospital, waiting to die. Melodramatic, I know. But it was scary. That’s when a handsome thirty-something-year-old surgeon came in and told us he was moving her to a hospital in Manhattan and doing a state-of-the-art procedure that had only been done thirty-six times in the world, ten by him. When I Googled his Facebook page, he had a profile picture of him in a wet white T-shirt. My mother wasted no time in making him blush about it.
The surgery was canceled twice due to difficulties. I made many middle-of-the-night hospital runs to sit by her side, wondering if it was the last time I’d ever be able to talk to her. And then surgery day came.
My mother, Maria Thompson, survived a very rare and complicated valve-in-valve procedure with the complications of myelofibrosis. Thank you, Dr. Chad Kliger, for saving my mother’s life. And for giving the hero of this story a greater purpose.
I have started and stopped this story more times than I care to admit. Meadow and Christian had too many important issues to tackle. I know women who struggle with infertility issues or have researched freezing their eggs. I wanted to do right by their stories without offending anyone. If I have, feel free to reach out to me at [email protected].
And, now, a drumroll please, for those at the HEART of the creation of this novel. THANK YOU to…
Jovana Shirley of Unforeseen Editing for your diligent copy and content editing as well as interior design.
Sarah Hansen of Okay Creations for having the vision to create a face for this romance.
Autumn Gantz of Wordsmith Publicity for every bit of friendship, guidance, and for being a kick-ass publicist and PA.
Virginia Tesi Carey for proofreading and making a space for Christian in the basement. ; )
Kelli Mummert for keeping the plot on target.
Author Janine Infante Bosco for maintaining the eye rolls.
Author Lauren Runow for the smiles.
Author Robin Hill for being a second eye.
Helene Cuji for being an amazing friend and promoter.
Love always for Nicole Romano, Nicole Lancellotti, Tara McCormick, Nicole Parsons, Michelle Worden, Jill Meister, Nanci Weaver, and Jennifer Windstein. Your friendship means the world and is where I draw inspiration from.
To my husband, Bryan, for being the best support system in the world, and helping pay Starbucks on Hylan’s rent from all the coffee and egg bites I purchase while writing.
And hugs to my littles—Jake, Everly, and Aliette—who have begun creating their own stories. I hope you enjoy seeing your names on this page.
Oh, and of course, YOU!
Thank you for taking a chance on my work. Your support means the world.
Tabl
e of Contents
A Really Bad Idea
Copyright © 2019 by Jeannine Colette
Dedication
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
Epilogue
Keep in Touch
Wild Abandon Teaser
Acknowledgments
A Really Bad Idea Page 31