Of Love & Regret

by S. H. Kolee

  Of Love & Regret

  by S.H. Kolee

  Copyright © 2013 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.

  Cover design by Suzie O’Connell

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter One

  “Crap,” I muttered as I futilely clicked my mouse with mounting aggravation as I faced the gray screen of death on my Mac. I was on a tight deadline for my column and this was the last thing I needed. As understanding as my boss was, I doubted he would accept the excuse of a crappy old laptop as a reason for not handing in my article on time.

  I sighed in resignation and held down the power button to restart my computer, praying that the auto-save function had actually done its job. While I waited for my laptop to reboot, I got up from the desk and refreshed my cup of coffee in the kitchen. I wandered over to the window and stared out at the dreary sky that cast a gray light over my neighborhood of Lincoln Park. It was a rainy day, which wasn’t unusual for Chicago in early April. There was nothing I hated more than cold, rainy days. For the thousandth time, I reminded myself how lucky I was to be able to work from home so that I didn’t have to deal with pesky things like a commute and inclement weather. Landing a job four years ago at The Monitor Reports—an online magazine that dealt with everything from foreign news to local chili cook-offs—had been a boon. I never tired of seeing by Madison Bailey on the byline, and I usually loved the process of working on my weekly column, but my mind was wandering today. I was finding it hard to concentrate and the latest hiccup with my less than state-of-the-art computer wasn’t helping matters.

  As I watched the raindrops fall, I noticed a woman crossing the street with her purse over her head, woefully trying to shield herself from the downpour. I clucked my tongue in sympathy when suddenly my breath caught. I squinted, trying to get a better look at the woman. Her blonde hair was drenched and plastered against the sides of her face, but I caught a clear shot of her profile. My heart started thudding against my ribcage, my mind rebelling at the instant recognition. My pulse thrummed erratically as I watched her with bated breath. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she started to turn her head in my direction. My stomach clenched in a mixture of anticipation and dread until I finally saw her face. The tension slowly dissipated, and I took a deep breath as a mixture of relief and disappointment coursed through me. I was suddenly aware of the rain hitting against the windowpane again, and everything shifted back into real-time. I momentarily closed my eyes to pull myself together. When I opened them again, the woman was scurrying down the sidewalk, and although I knew she was a stranger, I watched her until she was out of sight.

  My attention returned to my computer when I heard the beep signaling that it had restarted. I walked back to my desk, pushing the woman out of my thoughts. I was relieved when I saw that auto-save had indeed saved my ass, and I concentrated on finishing my article about the statistics of gun ownership and its reflection on the current attitude towards owning firearms. Jameson, my boss, was pretty open-minded and usually let me write about whatever I wanted, not minding that my columns fluctuated from serious to frivolous. I enjoyed writing on both ends of the spectrum, since life wasn’t solely one or the other.

  Two hours later, I breathed a sigh of relief as I finished re-reading my column for the last time and emailed it to Jameson. It was late Friday afternoon and the weekend had now officially started for me. I had plans with my boyfriend, Adam, later tonight, but I had a few hours to kill before then.

  I turned on the television, but was quickly bored by the banality of daytime programming and picked up my phone, flicking through my emails. I switched over to my texts and typed out a quick message.

  What are you doing? I’m bored.

  While I waited for a response, I absentmindedly watched a daytime talk show where a woman was ranting about her cheating boyfriend who had apparently fathered four children with four other women. I grabbed my phone when it beeped and Logan Delaney’s named popped up with an incoming text.

  Working. That’s what you should be doing. Still stuck on your article?

  Logan was one of my closest friends, and we had gotten into the habit of texting each other our daily happenings. I had already told him about my writer’s block earlier in the week.

  Me: Done and sent! Now I’m lazing about watching a trashy talk show. Jealous?

  Logan: Extremely. I’m not complete without a dose of baby daddies and DNA tests every day. Are you hanging out with Adam tonight?

  Me: Yeah, I think we’re going out to dinner. Are you going out with Ella?

  Logan: Nah, I don’t want her getting any ideas. She’ll interpret a Friday night date as a proposal of commitment.

  Me: You’re such a pig. I’ll call you tomorrow.

  Logan: Have fun. I hope Adam lets you supersize your meal tonight.

  I rolled my eyes at his last comment, but couldn’t suppress a laugh as I put my phone down. I found myself thinking about Logan’s relationship with Ella as I half-heartedly paid attention to the television. They had been going out for a few months, but he was adamant that they were just casually dating. Ella, however, was ready to tack the label of boyfriend on Logan as soon as he was willing. He and I had been friends during college, but had lost touch afterwards. We had reconnected three years ago when he had moved to Chicago and looked me up. We had been friendly the first couple of years, but this past year, we had grown even closer. My best friend, Emily, was doubtful about our strictly platonic relationship, but that was all Logan and I were: just friends.

  Besides, Adam and I had been together for three years. At one point, I had believed I was in love with him, but I had started to doubt that in the past six months. Lately, I was noticing his obnoxious behavior more and more, and I found myself trying to put some distance between us. Emily was convinced the end was near, but the thought of having to put myself out there and start dating again was daunting. I was hoping that Adam would just stop being so annoying.

  As if on cue, my phone rang and a picture of Adam’s face filled the screen of my phone.

  “Hi, Adam.”

  “Hey, babe. Wanna do dinner at your place?”

  I frowned. I knew what that meant. He wanted me to cook. Adam had never been the type to shower me with fancy meals and expensive gifts, but lately he had become even cheaper. Hence Logan’s comment about supersizing a meal at McDonald’s. Adam came from a wealthy family, and I knew they supported him, even though he hated to admit it. He had a “fight the establishment” sort of attitude, but not when it interfered with paying for his weekly yoga sessions and his expensive monthly juice cleanses. Yeah, he was really starting to get on my nerves.

  “Not really,” I answered. “I’ve been stuck inside all day. I want to go out somewhere and
interact with people, like a normal human being.”

  Adam sighed heavily. “Alright, but let’s stay low key. Do you want to go to Cornucopia?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  Cornucopia was a vegan restaurant, but I didn’t mind since the food there was actually pretty good. Adam had recently become a vegan, but I had a sneaking suspicion that he still ate meat when no one was looking. The empty package of bacon I had found in his trash the other day was pretty damning evidence. I had been tempted to expose him, but instead I kept my mouth shut and just added it to the list of things that I found irritating about him. The list seemed to be growing quickly.

  I hung up the phone after we made plans for Adam to swing by my apartment before dinner. As I watched the woman on the television start screaming at a cowering man for cheating on her, I told myself for the hundredth time that I needed to do something about our relationship. The easy answer was to end it, but after three years, I was comfortable with him, and the thought of rocking the boat was tiring. Adam was a companion when I needed one, an automatic date on New Year’s Eve, and someone to scratch the itch when I was feeling horny. I knew that was a sad description of a relationship, but I wasn’t sure I wanted more than that at this point in my life.

  I was showered and dressed by the time Adam showed up to my apartment. I gave him a quick kiss as I let him in. Despite his less appealing traits, I still found him handsome in a hipster sort of way. He was lean with longish, dark brown hair that constantly got in the way of his smoldering brown eyes. We had met at a mutual friend’s party, and the first word that had come to mind when I saw him was intense. He was a writer as well, but although he spoke a lot about the book he was working on, I had never seen his manuscript. He claimed that he didn’t want anyone to see it until it was finished.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, giving me an appreciative glance.

  I immediately felt bad for my negative thoughts about him, because there was still a lot of good about him. He was always complimentary about my appearance, whether I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt or dressed to the nines. I could call him upset at two o’clock in the morning and he would rush over immediately to console me. He sometimes left me little notes around my apartment telling me how much he cared about me and how amazing I was. He made me feel good about myself, and that counted for a lot.

  “You look pretty cute yourself,” I said, taking in his jeans and black shirt. I led him to the living room couch, snuggling into him as he put his arm around my shoulders. “What did you do today?”

  “I got some writing done and then I went over to Sam’s for a little bit.” Sam was one of his close friends that Adam often mentioned but whom I had never met. “What about you?”

  “I finally finished my article and sent it to Jameson with barely a minute to spare. I’ve been having trouble with it all week, and it’s a relief that it’s finally done.”

  “I’m sure it’s brilliant,” Adam said as he bent his head to give me a kiss. I tilted my head back and felt the familiar warmth as his lips caressed mine. My doubts about him dissipated as he deepened the kiss. This felt comfortable and right, and I told myself I would try harder in our relationship. Maybe pushing him away was part of the problem. I needed to recommit myself to Adam and not let nagging doubts get in the way of something good.

  We kissed for a few moments, but I was distracted by a gnawing hunger in my stomach since I had eaten an early lunch. I broke our embrace with an apologetic smile. “Can we postpone our make-out session until after dinner?” I joked. “I’m starving.”

  “No problem,” he said easily as he got up and took my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go eat.”

  Cornucopia was only a few blocks from my apartment, so we walked. I was grateful that it had stopped raining, though there was still a chill in the air.

  The restaurant was bustling, but we were fortunate to get a table right away. After the waitress took our order, I leaned back in my seat and sighed contentedly. It was warm inside the cozy restaurant, and there was a comfort and ease in being with Adam. He reached across the table and took my hand, lightly grazing my thumb with his.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “Just that I’m happy to be here with you,” I answered with a smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

  “Sorry about that. I’ve been so immersed in my manuscript these past couple of weeks that I’ve barely been able to remember to eat, let alone function like a good boyfriend.”

  “It’s okay.” I could hardly tell him that it had been a relief to have some time apart. I didn’t understand how it was possible to be so conflicted. In one moment, I was happy and content to be in Adam’s company. In the next moment, the last thing I wanted to do was hang out with him. “How’s the writing going?”

  “Good, although I’ve hit a bit of a writer’s block. I can’t get seem to get my thoughts in order.”

  “So, when I do get to see your great masterpiece?” I teased. “You’re so secretive about it. I don’t even know what it’s about.”

  Adam frowned, not seeming to find humor in my comment. “Madison, you know I don’t want anyone to see it until I’m done. I thought you respected that.”

  My smiled disappeared, and I found myself suppressing my annoyance. “I was just kidding. I know you don’t want anyone to see it until you’re finished. I can’t help being a little curious, though.”

  I would never voice it out loud, but I had to admit that a part of me was doubtful about how seriously Adam was working on his book. He had been working on it when I first met him, and three years later, he was still working on it. I didn’t begrudge him his privacy, and I could certainly understand not wanting to share an unfinished work, but it irked me that he wouldn’t even tell me what it was about.

  Adam gave me an ingratiating smile. “I’m sorry. I know you just want to know more about my book. I promise you’ll be the first person I show it to when I’m done.”

  I returned the smile, feeling a little guilty that I had pushed him about it. I should be more understanding and respect his creative process instead of wanting to satisfy my own curiosity.

  I changed the subject, not wanting to bicker. “Are you busy this weekend? I thought we could do something fun tomorrow and get out of our rut. All we ever seem to do is hang out at my apartment or come here to eat. Maybe we can go to the aquarium or to the zoo.”

  “Sorry,” Adam said with an apologetic look. “I told Sam I would hang out with him tomorrow, and I need to work on my manuscript for the rest of the weekend.”

  “When am I going to meet this elusive Sam?” I asked, not wanting to examine why I wasn’t more disappointed that I wouldn’t be seeing Adam this weekend. The thought that had immediately popped into my head was that I could now spend time with Logan without feeling guilty for neglecting my boyfriend. “You spend so much time with him, yet I’ve never even met him.”

  Adam shrugged noncommittally. “I’m sure you’ll get to meet him one of these days. I guess we’ve all just been too busy.”

  I wanted to contradict him, but I bit my tongue. My schedule was usually pretty open since I worked from home, and considering Adam set his own schedule, I doubted that him being busy was what kept me from meeting Sam. I knew a scant few details about him. Apparently, he was also a writer, and Adam had met him at a writing workshop. It had never bothered me before that I had never met him, but lately Adam had been mentioning him more and more. I had met a few of Adam’s other friends these past three years, but whenever we spent time together, it was usually just the two of us. I couldn’t help but wonder if there was something Adam was trying to hide.

  I dismissed the thought, because even though it irked me sometimes, if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t really care that much. There was probably something wrong with that, but I pushed the concern aside.

  The rest of dinner went by without incident, and we went back to my apartment afterwar
ds. Adam pulled me onto the couch next to him and put his arm around me as I leaned against his shoulder.

  “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked softly, his eyes warm.

  “I think you mentioned something about it earlier,” I said with a smile. He leaned down and touched his lips to mine, slowly deepening the kiss. I returned the kiss, opening my mouth and encouraging him to increase the pressure.

  We moved into the bedroom, and Adam took the time to arouse me with his hands and mouth before shedding his own clothes. Our lovemaking may have lacked the fierce intensity that I read about in romance books and secretly coveted, but I didn’t know how realistic they were. Being with Adam was soft and satisfying, and after we were done, he cuddled me close so that we were spooning. I told myself that this was more than enough, and I had to stop taking our relationship for granted. I vowed to try harder to reconnect with Adam and rediscover the love that had been fading.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I found myself wondering whether Logan would be busy tomorrow and if I would get a chance to see him.

  Chapter Two

  Adam left early Saturday morning with the excuse of going to the gym. He was a morning person, full of cheer and vigor at the crack of dawn, while I had to drag myself out of bed and drink multiple cups of coffee before I could function like a human being.

  I was on my third cup of coffee when I called Logan.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

  “Trying to sleep.” His voice was groggy, and I could almost see his grumpy expression. “It’s only eight o’clock in the morning. No normal people are awake at eight o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

  “You know Adam and his irritating affinity for waking up at the ass-crack of dawn. After he left to go to the gym, I couldn’t go back to sleep.”