8 Weeks (Time for Love 1)

I nodded, hoping my outside looked calmer than my insides.

Shelly was quiet for a few minutes. I sat there, scared to death that she'd say no, but hopeful that she'd agree.

Finally, she looked me in the eye and started to talk.

“I want to move forward on selling the house. We need to move our stuff out and divvy everything up. I won’t put everything on hold for eight weeks, but if it will take eight dates to get you to sign the paperwork, without a fight, I’ll agree."

The thought of moving out, living separately, and selling our house made me fear that one day a week with her may not be enough to get Shelly to realize she still loved me, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff out, and we can have Sasha put the house up for sale, but I want eight real dates, Shelly. You have to keep an open mind, and give me a chance.”

“They will be just dates, Cal. No sex.”

“We can play that by ear,” I said. When she looked at me warily I added, “I’m not going to attack you, Shel. Give me a break.”

“Sorry,” she said softly. “I just want to establish rules. And, Cal, you need to know, I don’t think eight weeks is going to change anything. I’m still going to want a divorce.”

“Please,” I pleaded desperately. “Give it a shot.”

She nodded again, then stood to leave.

“I’ll contact Sasha when I get home.”

I sat there as she walked away, watched her drive off, then stared up at the old oak.

Shit, I had to come up with eight dates. They had to be romantic or mean something to us as a couple. Maybe I had to think of some things that she always wanted to do, but we hadn’t done because of me, to show her that I was willing to do whatever she wanted in order to keep her as my wife.

I needed to get together with Scott and TJ and get some advice. They’d certainly been on a lot more dates than I had.

Chapter 10 - Shelly

I was feeling pretty good.

The rum and Cokes had gone down smoothly, and the pretty stud in my nose was only a little tender.

I laughed out loud as Gaby tried to fight off guys on the dance floor. With her long blonde hair braided down her back, and her skirt so long it grazed the floor as she moved, she looked like a free-spirited hippie. When Gaby moved, her body fluid and graceful, guys always paid attention.

"I'm gonna go save her," Sasha said with a wicked grin as she downed another shot of tequila.

I watched as Sasha sauntered over and crooked her finger at the guys Gaby was trying to dance away from. They went willingly, and Sasha was soon a blur of long legs and flashes of red as she danced seductively in between the two men.

I grinned at Gaby as she came toward me with a scowl.

"Why do guys think that because I'm dancing, I want them to grind all over me?" Gaby asked, picking up her beer as she sat at the bar next to me. "I just want to enjoy the music."

"It's one of the hazards of looking hot and dancing in the middle of a club," I said, snickering when Gaby stuck her tongue out at me.

"It's good to hear you laugh," Gaby said, touching her hand to my shoulder.

I nodded. "It feels good too."

/>

"So, you really sure about this eight weeks thing?"

I took a sip of my drink, shrugged, and said, "He said he'd sign the papers if I did it."

"What time are you guys meeting up tomorrow?"