Love, Redefined: A Contemporary Romance Novel (Love Lessons Book 1)

by Brynn North

  Vi fell silent, and my stomach dropped. I wanted to cry in shame for my words. Vi was gorgeous, smart, sexy as hell…and single as hell. She had been on dates here and there, but outside of a boyfriend in college she had for a few months, nothing ever seemed to work out for her. Though she seemed okay with it, suddenly, I felt horrible for her.

  “Vi,” I said, desperate to make amends. I searched her face to see what she was feeling. “I’m sorry.”

  She gave me a sharp look and her voice matched. “For what? For not committing myself to any old man just to have someone there? For being happy and secure in myself, and looking for someone to enhance my life, not just be in my life? Please.”

  The words, while not directed at me, stung. Vi and I haven’t had a spat since our junior year in high school when she got the job at the McDonald’s in the mall I wanted, leaving me to be a cashier at the grocery store. This meant she got to walk around the stores on her break while I was doomed to sit in a break room that always smelled like ketchup and microwaved food.

  And she was right. Vi was the most independent-minded woman I knew. Strong, smart, and took no bullshit from anyone, man or woman. Vi would never settle for any less than someone who added to her life, and being single never seemed to bother her a tiny bit. She was the woman that people had in mind when they penned their inspirational Instagram quotes about strong women.

  We were silent for a moment. I played with my hair, staring intently at my dirty socks on Vi’s gorgeous hardwood floors. I winced. I should vacuum for her. Hell, I should clean the entire house for her. Vi certainly had been gracious while I wallowed in my misery, but I probably could have been a better houseguest. Hell, a better person in general. I really needed to get myself out of this depressive slump I was in. Get back to things I enjoyed, like reading good books and volunteering at the animal shelter. I did that in Chicago for years and missed the kittens fiercely.

  Vi’s voice finally broke the silence that was growing tenser by the minute. “Why do you even want to get back with him, anyway? He threw you away like you were day-old sushi.”

  I sat in silence for a few more moments. I wasn’t sure I really had an answer for her. The obvious answer was because I loved him. Because I didn’t want my life uprooted. Because I was scared. Because the daily phone calls from my mom demanding I figure things out with Shane made me feel like a total loser. But it was more than that…

  “I feel disposable. Like he wanted to send a cosmic checklist out into the universe, full of requirements for someone who would meet his needs. Like it’s some stupid job application, not love. And that’s not realistic. He just needs to see what he’s missing, see how the grass isn’t greener on the other side,” I finally said out loud to her. And myself. “He doesn’t understand you have to love what you have and appreciate it, not just hire someone for a role. And we can conquer challenges together. I want my old life back. I liked that life. I spent ten years building it.”

  Vi’s scrunched-up face examined me. “Is that how you really feel?”

  I drew my feet up to the couch and nodded into my knees. “Yes,” I told my leggings, vowing to throw them out. They did have a hole in the crotch, after all.

  She reached over and stroked my hair. A rush of gratitude came over me so fast, giving me a sense of solidarity, that I almost went weak with relief. Vi wasn’t going to hate me forever.

  “I get it. I may not understand it, and I may not agree with it, but I get that’s how you feel. And if that’s how you feel, I will support the hell out of you, because that’s what best friends do. Support each other in their time of need.”

  “Thank you, Vi,” I whispered into my leggings again. “I just need to…sort all this out.”

  I heard her nod more than I saw it.

  “I get it. But don’t forget to sort it out for you, not him. You need to be the prize in your life, honey, not the consolation prize. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” I promised. “I’ll work on it.”

  Even though I had no idea at all what she was talking about.

  11

  I took a hard look in my own eyes that night in the mirror above my dresser, long after Vi went to sleep after the Indian food I’d ordered for us in a silent but understood apology. The rest of the night, I had worked on my attitude, spending time asking her about her latest design projects and even letting her pick the movie.

  Who was I these days, anyway? I studied myself in the mirror as the question rolled over and over in my head.

  Katrina Love. I had dreamed about becoming Katrina Brenner, even worked on my signature more than a few times, but clearly, that dream was down the drain. Her I was, thirty years old, dumped as fuck, and living as a roommate in her best friend’s townhouse back in her hometown.

  I studied myself more closely. I never considered myself a stunning beauty, but I wasn’t bad to look at either. But now, when I examined myself, it was apparent age had caught up to me in ways I didn’t realize. The circles under my eyes were darker than I remembered them being ten years ago, and I had lines by my mouth that reminded me of my mother’s. Where my skin used to be dewy, it now just looked like I needed some moisturizing cream, stat.

  As I leaned closer to the mirror, my nose only a few inches away, I noticed the reflection’s eyes were sad. Weary. Exhausted.

  But she had something going for her that the twenty-year-old version of her didn’t. When I connected with my reflection in the mirror, I also had a flash of understanding. This thirty-year-old version of me was smarter, more experienced than the younger me. My eyes, though tired, told me so. I had been through much more than the woman in my memory had, the one ten years younger, optimistically going on a date with Shane for the first time.

  Despite all the crap in my current life, I kinda liked this woman I saw in the mirror. She had a good heart and soul, buried deeply in her somewhere.

  I threw myself back on the bed with a sigh. If I was so wonderful, then why couldn’t Shane see it? Why would he just throw someone away with ten years of history who loved him, cared for him, hell, even knew how he liked his eggs in the morning? Was he really going to find that with some other woman? Sure, someone might learn his egg order, and how he liked black socks over white because white ones got so dirty, but would she ever really know his heart like I did, after seeing him grow up into the man he was today?

  Shane was wrong, I knew it. I just needed to show him I could change, I could be the woman of his dreams, the one he wanted no matter the fact I couldn’t give him biological babies. I could improve on things I had let go, like my looks or career. Bargain a little. Show him I was what he wanted, what he needed. And, while doing so, I could also write the stupid piece for TC Media that would pay for my new life. Write about how to reinvent yourself, and in the meantime, show him what he’s missing out on.

  It was the only way I could think of how to heal this situation, heal me.

  I jumped out of bed and grabbed the teal leather planner that went with me everywhere. I thumbed past the calendar pages, past the goals section, to the area in the back where I kept my blank paper. Tearing out a sheet, I wrote the words “FIX ME” on top in all capitals. My pen flew over the page as I thought all about how I could improve myself. My contract with TC Media called for six articles, so I listed one through six down the right side of the page.

  Number one was obviously to examine yourself. See where your shortcomings were instead of accepting the status quo. Figure out what needs to be done to fix your life, become a more interesting person, do the things you’ve been missing out on. All those types of things. For the second, I wrote “makeover.” I already had my hair done, thanks to Vi’s hairstylist, but it had been years since I had examined my clothing style or tried new makeup. What worked in my mid-twenties likely wasn’t working so hot for me as I entered my thirties.

  I stopped to ponder what would come after that. I thought of the last few years of our life, and what Shane and I had done toge
ther. I winced as I realized it basically came down to a lot of Netflix and ordering UberEats. I couldn’t remember the last time we did anything fun like we did when we were first dating. Quickly, I scribbled down “new hobbies” for the third article. Show him I was still an interesting person who did cool things. Even if I came home and watched Netflix after them.

  I already knew what the fourth article would be. Working out. I wrinkled my nose at that one. Besides some half-hearted yoga classes in Chicago, I hadn’t established a gym routine in years. However, I knew all the articles said going to the gym was good for your mind and your body, so I kept it on the list. I’d look into spin classes or something.

  I chewed on the edge of my pen as I pondered the last two. What else was there to fix me and impress Shane? I tapped the pen on the paper, thinking what Shane took on for the both of us. He usually took care of the bills and balancing the checkbooks, so next to number five, I wrote, “get your life together financially - things like getting a new job, side hustle, or reexamine your financial needs.” It would either impress Shane or, if I was to stay single, which was not an option for me, I would need to do it, anyway.

  I stopped flat at the sixth step. I tossed around ideas for the next few minutes, but none really seemed right. I didn’t want to go back to school to further my education and wasn’t quite in the market to look for my own house yet. Sighing, I threw the list on the bedside table. I’d worry about the sixth article later. Five would get me through several weeks at least.

  I reached over to click off the lamp when I saw my phone was lit up with a text notification. My hand shot out for the phone, hoping against hope it was Shane, and my heart sank when I saw it wasn’t him.

  Boston: Little sis told me you gave her an earful about how she tricked you into working with me?

  Kat: She did not *trick* me. She had no idea we would work on an article together. And I didn’t yell at her. I was just…surprised. Forewarned, Forearmed; to be prepared is half the victory and all that.

  Boston: Ah, yes, I like a little de Cervantes before bed too. Don Quixote always makes for a little light reading.

  I blinked at that one. I had no idea how he would have known the origin of such a quote off the top of his head. He had written back faster than it would have taken him to Google it. Here I thought I was the only one I knew who loved Don Quixote in this modern age. Deciding engaging in that conversation would be more trouble than it was worth, I ignored it completely.

  Kat: You’ll be happy to know that I planned all my articles for you already. Now I just need to write them.

  Boston: Thou hast seen nothing yet.

  Damn it. Another quote, this time from my favorite book. For some reason, this bothered me more than it should. It was easier to let Boston be the annoying older brother I remembered him as than to think of him as a handsome, intelligent adult. I couldn’t handle this right now. Not after such an emotional night. Still though, part of me had to admit it was incredibly sexy that he was so well-read.

  Kat: Oh, you will. Goodnight.

  With that, I clicked off the texting app, and as had become a habit lately, opened Facebook to look at Shane’s profile. I hadn’t unfriended him, but I unfollowed him, even though he rarely posted. As I scrolled through, my heart stopped in my chest. He had taken off his relationship information. Instead of showing “in a relationship” next to his relationship status, it now read “no relationship info to show.”

  My eyes narrowed at the page, purpose fueling through me. I would knock this article series out of the park, and prove to both Shane and Boston I could do it. I just needed to get started.

  12

  I pushed away from my desk and stretched my fingers above my head. I had been working on my first article for over a week now, and it was due to Boston in three days. I had started and restarted the article at least five times, trying to not make it - me - sound so pathetic. I had written all about reviewing your life goals, the apps you could download to get you back on track, and even suggested some Lizzo songs to help you learn how to love yourself, but nothing I wrote was truly connected with me. I couldn’t get rid of the feeling I was writing a research paper, not something personal and from my heart, the way Kiara wanted me to do.

  As I glanced around my room, my eyes caught the manila envelope partially sticking out from under my bed, and my heart sank even further if that was possible.

  I had received the contents of the envelope four days ago and immediately collapsed into bed. Vi had called us both sick from work the following day, and we spent it watching bad movies on the couch while consuming junk food.

  “He really means it, doesn’t he?” I had asked her, over and over. I mean, intellectually I knew that me moving out and all meant it was over. I thought I would have had more time to process it. Like, forever. Six weeks was not forever, at least according to my calendar.

  Vi had picked up through the papers sitting in front of us, all the papers that would officially separate us as a couple. Bank accounts, a document I needed to sign to remove me from the lease in Chicago, even a note asking me what I wanted him to do with any of the things I didn’t manage to shove in my car. “Guess it needed to be done,” she said sadly.

  “Yeah,” was my flat answer. I dragged a hand down my face so I wouldn't have to see the sad look cast on her face.

  Truth was, at the time I drove up to Minneapolis, I looked at the situation like it was more of a necessary step than anything else. Not an earth-shattering life upheaval. Just a numb step I had to take when I was backed into a corner. Guess I was wrong. All in all, it turned out that the last ten years of someone’s life could be wrapped up and over within a month if someone was determined to get rid of them.

  I had taken the papers from Vi and flipped through them once more. Done. Over. Nothing left except for me to pick up the pieces of my shattered life while Shane went off to find some woman with a working womb. At the thought of it, hot tears started rolling down my face again. I wanted Shane. As great as Vi had been to me, having his arms around me was the only comfort I wanted right now.

  The comfort I wasn’t going to get.

  Pushing the thoughts of that night and the contents of the manila envelope out of my mind, I snatched my phone off my desk and started scanning Reddit for a great meme. I need some excuse to talk to Shane. Something that wasn’t too personal, yet something he’d like. Something that would give me a much needed moment of comfort when he responded. Finally, I found a picture of a Shibu Inu wearing a pair of sunglasses and a tie. Perfect. Shane loved dogs. We never had a chance to get one, living in a city apartment. I quickly captioned the photo “Hang in there, it’s almost Friday.” A little lame of a caption, but it was the best I could think of in a pinch.

  With a little trepidation, I sent it. Stop it, I told my beating heart. Shane and I had promised to “stay friends” - whatever the hell that meant, and it was perfectly acceptable to send a friend a meme, was it not?

  Shane’s response - a simple ha - was immediate, and I almost wept with relief that, for half a second at least, life seemed normal again. Back to where we should be. If I wasn’t sitting in a different city, over six hundred miles away, I could almost imagine he was on his way to work while I was sitting down to work on a freelance article. I mean, he wouldn’t have even responded if he didn’t want to hear from me, would he? He could have ignored me. Maybe he was missing me as much as I was missing him?

  Taking the plunge, my thumbs typed out a response.

  Kat: How have you been?

  Shane: Ok, I guess. Rough week. Sounds like it was long for you too?

  The tears just kept rolling down my cheeks. If it was so rough for him, why would he do this to us? Then I remembered my list. Not only could I not get pregnant, but I was boring too.

  Kat: Yup. Been keeping busy, though.

  His response took much longer than I’d wanted. I gnawed on my nails as I waited for his response, any response.

  Shane: Oh
yeah?

  That was it? That’s all he was going to say after making me wait almost ten minutes? I was losing his interest, I could tell. I only had a little time to connect with him before he left the apartment to go to work, and I was desperate to keep the connection alive.

  Kat: Yeah! Got myself into some cool new activities, and am reading some great self-help books. It’s really helping me out. Learning many new things on how to improve and why I am the way I am!

  Shane: Good! I’m glad things are looking up for you. Take care and hang in there.

  I jerked back like he slapped me in the face. Which he just about did with those words, even if it wasn’t his intent. He didn’t care. That was clear. He didn’t see I was trying to be better, trying to move on and be more interesting. I was just going to have to try harder then, wasn’t I?

  Kat: Will do! By the way, I think I have to come back into town next month. Maybe we can get together and catch up a little?

  I didn’t have to go back to Chicago for anything, and I prayed he didn’t ask why because I didn’t really have a grand excuse prepared.

  Shane: I’d love to, but didn’t I tell you? The firm is sending me to Dubai, to help get a new international client set up. I’m leaving next week, will be back in a few months. Thought I mentioned it?

  My mouth hung open. No, he did not fucking mention to me he was moving to Dubai. That seemed like quite a big thing to forget to tell someone, especially someone you were living with less than two months ago. Hot tears pooled up in my eyes. Thank God he was hundreds of miles away and couldn’t see me sitting in my best friend’s guest room back in my hometown, working my temp job, wearing ratty pajamas, while he prepared to jet set off to Dubai for three months. If life after a breakup was a competition, he sure as hell was winning. If I’d considered myself lame before, I suddenly felt like I was about to be crowned Queen Loser.