Second Chance Holiday (Until 4.5)

“I can’t believe that you were making out with someone while we’re on a date,” Steve says, catching me off guard and bringing me out of my thoughts.

Guilt turns my stomach at his words. My ex-husband cheated on me. He was having an affair for two years and I didn’t even find out until he was packing his stuff to move out. I begged him to work it out, but in the end, he chose his new girlfriend and her kids over my son and me. I hate cheaters, and even though I have no commitment to Steve, I still feel guilty for what happened with Mike.

“I wasn’t making out with him,” I say defensively.

“His mouth was on you.” Okay, so that was true. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch other men when we’re out together.”

That wouldn’t be too hard because I’m thinking this is going to be the last time I will ever see Steve.

“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again,” I tell him, really wanting to stab him.

I sit there for a few more minutes, not eating while feeling holes being drilled into me from across the room. It’s taking everything in me not to look at Mike. My body knows he’s near. I swear I can feel my blood cells pulling me in his direction.

“I’ll be back,” I tell Steve.

His eyes narrow, but he nods like I need his damn permission. I grab my bag and start toward the restrooms, but instead of walking all the way down the hall, I turn to the left and head towards the hostess.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess asks as soon as I make it to the front of the restaurant.

“Actually, I need to leave. I have an emergency.” I pull out a hundred-dollar bill and hand it to her. “Can you please give that to our waitress and give a message to my date that I left?”

“Sure,” she replies, giving me a knowing smile. She seated me with Steve thirty minutes ago, so I’m sure she understands why I want to get out of here.

I smile, lift my bag up over my shoulder, and head for the front of the restaurant. Once I reach the parking lot, I find my keys, quickly get in my car, and take off like the hounds of Hell are on my heels.

When I reach my house, my cell starts ringing from my purse. I pull it out and slide my finger across the screen when I see that Mike is calling.

“That didn’t last long,” he says, his tone almost playful.

But something about his words pisses me off. I know what I want out of life, and I know that I deserve to have a man who is supportive at my side. I have been single for a long time, but I miss having someone to wake up to or someone to call when I just need to vent.

“He was kind of lame, babe.”

“Seriously?” I hiss. My stomach tightens and the urge to throw my phone across the room consumes me. “You’re a jerk!” I say, hanging up.

When my phone lights up again, I hit the power button. Screw him.

Chapter 2

MIKE

I look at my coffee and rub the space between my eyes. I need to get dressed, but since everything went down with Kat, I haven’t felt like doing shit. I hear the front door open and slam then the sound of Beast’s dog tags jingling together before I ever see November come around the corner.

“Hey, Daddy!” my daughter says, walking into the house.

I watch as she tosses her bag across the room and onto the couch before coming to sit down at the island next to me with a huff. Her eyes search my face for a second before I turn away from her.

“Hey, baby girl,” I mumble, taking a drink of my coffee, setting my elbows down on the counter.

“Okay, spill it,” she says, raising an eyebrow.

“Spill what?”

“Oh lord. Don’t play dumb. You’ve been moping around for a while and I’m tired of it.”

“I’m not moping.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to call Grandma,” she says, standing and walking around the island into the kitchen. Then she grabs a coffee cup out of the cupboard before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Can you drink that right now?” I ask.

She frowns at me over the top of her coffee cup, making me smile. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Now seriously. Tell me what’s going on?”

I sigh then debate about what I’m going to tell her. I know she’s not a little girl, but the idea of explaining to her how I let the woman I love slip through my fingers because I’m a dumbass is not at all appealing.

“Dad, talk to me,” she says quietly.

I look at her across the counter and lower my head. “I fucked up. I mean really fucked up, and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“Are you still breathing?” she asks softly, and I lift my head.

“Pardon?”

“Are you still breathing?” she repeats, searching my face.

“Yes,” I tell her and frown when I see her eyes flash.

“Do you love her?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

She nods. “You know, this man once told me that, as long as you were breathing, anything was possible.” She takes a drink of her coffee, searching my face again. She shakes her head and I see tears fill her eyes. “You could have given up on me,” she whispers, and my heart contracts. “You could have just said screw it and given up, but you didn’t—you never did. You are someone who fights for what you want. So if you love this woman, she’s probably pretty amazing and worth fighting for.”