Page 1 of The Problem with Dating

CHAPTER1

Yara

Avibrant leaf floated aimlessly from the maple tree as I stood in my older sister Avery’s driveway, giving me the first sign that the season of change was upon us. Summer was packing up its swimsuits and popsicles, while autumn prepared to unleash its pumpkin spice everything for the next few months. I could smell it in the crisp air—change was around the corner.

It only seemed fitting that I was also about to embark on a new season.

“You don’t have to go,” Avery whimpered as I moved around a box in the back of her boyfriend Wesley’s blue Ford pickup truck. “We’ve loved having you as a roommate!”

I smiled, knowing that I wouldn’t have made it through the past year if it wasn’t for my two sisters. Avery pretty much bottle-fed me self-esteem slogans for the past twelve months to make sure I didn’t drown in my erratic thoughts each day before she tucked me into bed with a blend of herbal tea that my younger sister, Willow, made to help me sleep.

“I have to stand on my own two feet again if I’m going to move forward,” I said. It had been over a year since I’d ended my marriage with my now ex-husband, Cole. I’d been staying with my older sister and Wesley ever since.

Even though I knew they didn’t seem to mind having me around, I felt it was time to shift onto my new stage of life. The small town of Honey Creek only had one apartment complex, a building that overlooked Lake Michigan. Though the view was remarkable, it was odd that I would stay in a one-bedroom apartment there after living in houses for the past ten years, but I was thrilled. Something about having my own space felt like a renewal of my energy.

“You could always come to stay with me in Big Bird,” Willow offered, walking around with the final box of my things. Big Bird was the school bus Willow transformed into a mobile home. It was funny how different my sisters were from one another. When Avery was stubborn and headstrong, Willow was like a flowing stream. Where Avery planted her feet on solid ground, Willow floated away in wanderlust. While Willow wore her heart on her sleeves and allowed anyone and everyone to experience said heartbeats, Avery was as closed off as a person could get.

Sometimes, I wondered which sister I was most like, but then I realized I was probably a blend of them both. I was equal parts perfectionist and wild heart. Yet sometimes those two characteristics clashed during a crisis, and I’d be left drowning in a panic of wtf moments.

Thankfully, when that happened, my sisters would help guide me forward.

“I’ll keep the Big Bird offer in mind. Thanks, Willow,” I told her.

“Anytime,” she said sincerely.

If it weren’t for my sisters, my dad, and our family friend Tatiana, I wasn’t sure I would’ve made it through the past year. It wasn’t getting over Cole that was the problem. Oddly enough, I never had a moment of regret once I left. That was the thing about a person mentally checking out way before their feet moved. Mourning the relationship began before I even left the marriage. I’d said goodbye to him in the spirit before my lips ever spoke. Therefore, I moved through the grief of it all quickly.

However, I struggled with how much the town seemed to judge my situation. I had a few individuals remark that marriages were supposed to be fought for, not disposed of so spontaneously. Some whispered about me when they thought I was out of earshot, while others said it to my face. People in Honey Creek loved my ex-husband.

They couldn’t comprehend why I’d leave such a sweet man. It made sense that they’d thought that way—Cole was an angel to the external world. He was approachable and charismatic. He was the guy who’d help baptize your baby on Sunday morning and then grab a beer with you on Monday night at a sports bar. If a cat was stuck in a tree, he was climbing it.

He was Honey Creek’s leading man, the perfect gentleman and the town’s new favorite chief of police. People loved that man. Cole Parker was a charmer to the outer world, and now I was the cruel woman who chose to walk away.

I supposed that was the problem with keeping your struggles to yourself—nobody understood how I was drowning behind closed doors. If only they would have stepped into our private lives and seen how Cole treated me.

They would’ve run, too.

Nobody even knew how bad it got sometimes, not even my family. I was too ashamed to share the worst days. They would’ve scolded me for not leaving sooner. My ex-husband wasn’t only verbally abusive. He also had an issue with a wandering dick. That thing always ended up in places it didn’t belong. I applauded any woman who had the opportunity of meeting said penis. It was probably the most mediocre three minutes of their lives—four minutes if he had caffeine.

Outside of the town’s judgment, one might’ve asked me what the most challenging part of the divorce had been. That was an easy answer for me.

Cole. Was. Everywhere.

Legit everywhere. For a while, I thought he was stalking me. Or, perhaps, he cloned himself a few times. Then I figured he had a few other guys from the police station tracking me. Dating alone was hard. Yet dating while Cole lurked in the wings was almost impossible because everyone knew him and didn’t want to step on “his property.” His property? What a joke. I was as much his property as the birds in the sky belonged to the sea. It was such a 1920s concept, but the people in town seemed to follow the new chief’s ridiculous rules.

It was like he was the freaking king gorilla of the town.

Me, man. She, ex-wife. You, no touch.

Insert the pounding of his chest.

Even guys who expressed interest in me told me they couldn’t take me out on a date due to respect for Cole.

The idea of a date seemed so foreign to me; what I wouldn’t do to have a first date again. I couldn’t even recall the last date I had.

After a few years into our marriage, Cole stopped taking me out unless it was going to Chicago to watch a sporting event or have drinks with his buddies and their wives at the sports bar. Anything I considered romantic was corny to him, so we hardly participated in them. If we did, he’d complain the whole time before we left, then fake like he was having the time of his life in public before returning home and yelling at me. That just made me avoid doing activities with him.

Luckily, I spent the past year doing all the dates Cole refused to take me on. I attended candle-making classes, winery tours, and paint-and-sip nights. I even took tango lessons with my two left feet. I found a lot of happiness in my year of discovery, but that didn’t remove the fact that I still yearned for companionship.

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