An Unexpected Love Story: A sweet, heartwarming & uplifting romantic comedy (Falling into Happily Ever After Rom Com)

by Ellie Hall

  Hazel shakes her head. “Tomorrow. I dare you to date the first five guys you see. You have to give them each a chance.”

  “I double dare you,” Colette says.

  Triple and quadruple dares echo from around the room.

  I hate that idea. I’d cast it down, but to Catherine, I don’t exist.

  “Date five guys?” Minnie asks. “I can handle two at most.”

  Hazel corrects, “Not all at once, but we need to get her out there. She needs to make it real.”

  “How is that making it real?” Catherine inches toward the door as if she wants distance from the conversation.

  “You spend so much time fantasizing about your love life,” Hazel says.

  “I do not,” she argues. “I want nothing to do with my nonexistent love life.” The blush in her cheeks matches a stop sign.

  I want to tell them to stop. To leave her be.

  But as someone’s watch beeps, indicating it’s midnight, Catherine’s eyes flick to mine.

  By the rules of their dare, I’m the first guy she sees.

  A slow smile spreads across my lips.

  She gives me a slight shake of the head.

  “You can approach dating as purely something fun,” Lottie adds.

  “No risks,” Tyler says.

  “No strings,” Minnie states.

  “No broken hearts.” Hazel shakes the ice in her glass and takes the last sip.

  “Just. NO,” Catherine says.

  If I have anything to do with it, those are famous last words.

  Sense and Insensibility

  Catherine

  I’m usually sensible. Like, always. I should’ve washed off my makeup and gotten into bed hours ago. I should be dreaming of my one true love and wake up, bright-eyed tomorrow morning with him snoozing by my side.

  I shouldn’t be up this late. I shouldn’t be listening to my roommate’s thoughts on how I can improve my love life. I shouldn’t be awake.

  I shouldn’t be thinking about Kellan Connolly.

  What I didn’t need was him raining on my new-apartment, housewarming party parade. I tried to ignore him. I focused on Minnie’s famous seven-layer dip and the pastries Tyler brought. I didn’t think about how uncomfortable the conversation was. How I squirmed awkwardly every time someone said the letters OTP. How he was sitting across the room from me.

  Everyone filtered home, leaving Hazel and me in the living room with a Billy Holiday record playing. A strand of twinkle lights glow along the windowsill. We’re lying on opposite ends of the couch, nursing the last of a bowl of popcorn.

  There were multiple trips to the market, food trucks, and take out deliveries throughout the night. My friends are foodies.

  Mercifully, Harry had to get up early for church so he and Kellan left before the singing started.

  However, it didn’t escape my notice that Kellan was the first person I saw today, well, after midnight.

  Or that his gaze never left me.

  Or that he mouthed I’m sorry.

  Or that when I’m in his presence my pulse rachets up a few notches, sparks and tingles light up my insides. And that I’m drawn to him like a booklover to a bookstore.

  “I should go to sleep,” I say for the fifth time even though I make no motion to do so. I don’t object when Hazel pours the last inch of sparkling lemonade in my glass.

  “You never told me who you’d ship,” she says pointedly.

  “The Rock,” I say.

  “IRL.”

  “OTP. IRL. English, please,” I joke.

  “I know that you know what those acronyms mean. I also know who you’d ship.”

  I don’t dignify her with a response.

  Hazel is uncharacteristically quiet and then she says, “I’ve never been in love.”

  I file through all the guys she’s been with, searching my memory for that glimmer, that knowing, the glowing… Nothing. “But you’ve had crushes,” I say.

  She shrugs. “Not really. I don’t let myself go there.”

  “Why?” I ask in a small voice, afraid her answer is like mine.

  She’s still quiet and I don’t push her to answer.

  Her eyes are heavy, but our friendship is like truth serum. And someone as thoughtful and honest as Hazel deserves the truth.

  “Remember I said that thing about how my friend Claire Connolly died?” My voice is low, keeping to the safety of the shadows in the room.

  “Kellan’s sister?”

  “It was horrible. Car accident on prom night. Drunk driving.”

  Her face crumbles. “That’s so tragic.”

  “It was instant.” Goosebumps pebble my skin. I’ve never talked to anyone other than the counselor my parents had me see afterward...and Kellan.

  “We were best friends until a week before prom.”

  “What happened?”

  “I found out that my boyfriend, Zach, was cheating on me.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I caught him. He was on the football team. Melanie was on cheer for a rival school. It turned out they’d been hooking up for months after various events involving both teams. We were at a party and I walked into the room where I’d left my coat.”

  “You saw them making out?”

  “I’ll never forget.”

  “Was he hot? I mean, there’s no excuse, but I didn’t know you had a high school boyfriend who cheated on you so when I track him down, I need to know whose butt I’m looking to kick.”

  I whack her with a pillow then go to my room and grab my yearbook. When I return, dawn has snuck in, softening the light in the room to lavender gray.

  The yearbook falls open to a candid shot of Zach and me as a couple. My head rests on his shoulder. I’m gazing up at him, and he’s staring off in the distance, probably at Melanie or some other girl.

  I tap the photo. “I’ve studied this for hours, wondering how I didn’t know. It seems impossible.”

  “Of course you didn’t know. Usually, cheaters try to keep those things secret.”

  “No. That’s the thing. Everyone knew.”

  “What do you mean?” Hazel asks.

  “Zach was one of Kellan’s best friends. Kellan was Claire’s brother. Kellan and I were close. He knew. He’d mentioned it to Claire before he left for college. She never told me. No one told me as I went along in my cotton candy, bubble gum cloud of bliss thinking all was well in my little world. Meanwhile, they’d been hooking up for ages while we were officially a couple. I was so mad at Claire for never telling me. We had a big fight. Then Claire died in the accident.”

  But it gets worse. I didn’t love Zach. I hardly even had a crush on him. I just said yes because Kellan was gone. Kellan was the one I wanted. I feel like such a jerk. But that’s not even the whole story.

  Hazel doesn’t say anything as I fall apart, tears streaming down my face. My shoulders shudder and she pulls me into a hug.

  When I wipe my eyes she says, “Has anyone ever told you that Zach dude was a fool?”

  “No, but I’ve thought worse things.”

  Hazel chuckles darkly. “Has anyone ever told you that your friends, dead or alive, sorry, God rest her soul, were jerks?”

  My tired eyes widen.

  “If some idiot was cheating on you, you’d better believe I’d make sure you knew that you were too good for him and to cut your losses.” Her voice softens. “Catherine, that’s no reason to keep yourself from loving or at least liking again.”

  She’s not wrong, but I keep the rest of the story to myself. My vision blurs.

  “Catherine Eloise Kittredge. Yes, Zach broke your heart, but you cannot give him that kind of power. You’re letting something that happened in high school make you miserable now. I had my heart broken senior year. In junior year, I had such bad acne I wouldn’t leave the house. Sophomore year I failed a class. And freshman year? Don’t even get me started on why I didn’t make the cheer team.”

  “You’ve never let any of it stop you,”
I say, thinking of her long roster of accomplishments.

  “Heck no. I use setbacks and speed bumps for fuel. You can’t expect to love without it sometimes hurting. That’s part of life. As they say, a broken heart tells you that you once loved and that’s a pretty special thing. But it’s time to figure out who Catherine, the most eligible woman in Manhattan, really is and what she wants.”

  The problem is, I know who I want, and I detect his faint scent lingering in the room from the housewarming party, feel his gaze on me like warm sunshine, and yet my heart beats out a rough rhythm of uncertainty.

  Cats & Dogs

  Catherine

  I don’t get nearly enough sleep, but it’s Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday. I don’t want to Monday. I’d rather wash dishes, which is what I’m doing when Hazel wanders out wearing a T-shirt that says But first, coffee.

  “I feel you so hard on that,” I say, pointing to her shirt. “But I can’t find the pods.”

  “Maybe the guy down the hall has some to spare.”

  I raise my eyebrows, “Are you going to ask him, sporting that disheveled not-enough-sleep look, raccoon eyes, and the faint traces of lip liner? You’re hot, but I don’t think even you can pull that off. I, for one, am not setting foot outside this apartment until I don’t look like this.” I gesture to my bedhead.

  “Point taken. I haven’t looked in a mirror. I know the coffee is around here somewhere.”

  After opening and scattering the contents of the several remaining boxes, we still can’t find the coffee. Hazel pulls on a hat, wraps a scarf around half her face, and bundles me up to my protests about how I’m not fit for man nor beast.

  “Man and beast more like.” She mutters about a foxy beast.

  I swallow hard. Our conversation from the early hours spins back to me like a wooden toy top.

  It must knock Hazel in the head because her face lights up. “Remember last night, I dared you to date the first five guys you saw today...technically, the foxy beast was number one when the clock struck midnight.”

  “I was hoping you didn’t notice,” I mumble.

  Hazel gives me a look that says she notices everything. Mercifully, her phone vibrates. “Danni needs me to teach her class. Her daughter is sick. Poor baby.”

  “Aren’t you too tired?”

  “Yoga is the cure for everything. You’re coming. Go change.”

  Like a drill-sergeant or my Navy command officer father, she stands guard to ensure I follow orders.

  Encased in down jackets, spandex, and armed with cash for coffee, we step into the hall.

  When I turn around, the door to 7G opens, and out walks our neighbor. My boot catches on the carpet and I stumble before tucking behind Hazel. Her height comes in handy for more than reaching the top cabinets in the kitchen.

  He has dark hair and eyes. Strong jaw lined with a fashionable amount of stubble. His scent is aftershave fresh. He has that easeful, not a care in the world, lounging on a yacht off the south of France kind of posture. He and Hazel would be an OTP match made in heaven.

  “Good morning,” he says in a smooth and growly voice.

  Hazel leans into me as though stifling a swoon. She pulls herself together. “We just moved in down the hall. I’m Hazel and this is Catherine.” She jostles me so I’m standing in front of her.

  “Nice to meet you,” he says to both of us. Mostly Hazel. Her beauty is visible even through her winter wear. He beams a smile that could summon the sun on this cloudy day. “I’m Maxwell.”

  “We’re on our way to get coffee and go to a yoga class. Catherine is an amazing student.”

  I elbow Hazel. “She’s an amazing teacher.”

  He smirks.

  “And generous, compassionate...” Hazel rattles on as though reading from my dating profile. The dating profile that will never exist.

  “I heard you had some friends over last night.”

  “Housewarming party. I hope we weren’t loud.” I fill my voice with apology.

  “Next time feel free to knock,” Hazel says easy breezy.

  He chuckles. “I don’t mind. Mrs. Hess down the hall on the other hand…”

  Hazel matches his smirk, but then says, “We love entertaining, don’t we, Catherine?”

  “Yeah, there was a lot of daring and peer pressure.” My cheeks burn because Kellan was there and my body is confused. I have no idea how to function as a normal adult never mind a datable one.

  “Are you sisters?”

  I squawk a laugh. “Hazel Loves, my Greek-Kenyan-Indian-Russian, bombshell of a best friend and I are nothing alike. If we were born from the same litter, I’d be the runt.”

  Hazel takes the helm. “Best friends. She’s going to be the maid of honor at my wedding. The dress is going to be stunning on you—” she says, turning to me.

  “Maybe we could have dinner sometime.” Maxwell’s gaze lingers on Hazel, naturally. “Or a yoga class.”

  Hazel elbows me this time.

  I swallow a mouthful of awkward.

  Hazel plows ahead. “Wednesday night there’s a couple’s yoga class in the Village. I know the teacher. She’s fabulous and there’s a fantastic farm-to-table restaurant nearby. You’ll love it.”

  Maxwell smiles. “What time is the class?”

  “Six to seven.”

  “Count me in.”

  “You get the honor of being the first,” Hazel says, referring to the dare.

  I grind my teeth.

  “See you then.” Hazel giggles.

  I give her a side-eye.

  He watches us, or at least Hazel, walk away.

  When we’re on the elevator I ask, “What have you done? A couple’s yoga class? Dinner?”

  “I set you up on a hot date, sister.”

  “I have to cancel. I’m not going to be able to walk by his door without being humiliated. And your wedding? What wedding?”

  “I never said when my nuptials are. Someday, duh. I’m marrying a dude with a yacht. Though I guess dudes probably don’t have yachts.”

  “I beg to differ,” I say, thinking of Kellan and the family flotilla.

  She briefly debates dudes versus gents—the former being more fun, the latter having better manners. Kellan was a dude in a gent’s clothing, an athlete in high school with the outward evidence of being a well-heeled member of the upper crust.

  Then she says, “Have you not seen my Pinterest boards? Someday I’ll exchange vows. You’ll be the maid of honor, of course, and will turn heads when you walk down the aisle. Well, until I appear.” She grips my chin in her gloved hand. “Catherine, when you don’t pout or scowl you look gorgeous in anything, anywhere, overtired, whatever.”

  I glimpse my reflection on the brushed metal wall of the elevator. “Do I really pout or scowl?”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Why haven’t you told me? That’s like walking around at a party with spinach in my teeth and no one discretely mentioning it.”

  She shrugs, but her shoulders don’t relax as we both brace against the cold. “I didn’t know why until last night. It’s as cold outside as your broken heart, but it’s time to warm that thing up. You thought it was part of your identity, but it’s not. Your smile is.”

  “If this is operation cheer Catherine up, it’s not exactly on track.”

  “This is operation double dare. First five guys. Five dates. Colette and everyone else were my witnesses. There’s no getting out of this one.”

  “What if I contact every one and have them rescind the dare.”

  “We made a pact. Everyone wants you to keep them posted on your dates.” She stops, redirecting the foot traffic around us like damming a stream. She clutches my shoulders. “You should start a blog.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “The Boyfriend Book Blog. Password Catnip.”

  “I’ll blame everything you’re saying on your lack of caffeine.”

  “But you love me.” Hazel tucks her head innocently.
>
  What are best friends for?

  She pulls me into the short line at the cafe. I rub my hands together, warming up.

  After Hazel places her order, a deep voice asks, “Anything for your friend?”

  I glance over at her and with a waggle of her eyebrows, she mouths the words A hot cup of you.

  I shake my head. Man-bun-barista smiles from beneath a few days of unshaven scruff and his dark lashes blink lazily.

  I sputter.

  If he has a talent for reading chattering lips, then I’m mortified. Thankfully, my cheeks are already pink from the whipping wind outside.

  Hazel bumps me with her shoulder and says, “A tea please.”

  She juts her chin at the Man-bun-barista who wears a black T-shirt that says, Bean Snob. His eyes are as dark as the earrings plugging his earlobes. He’s wiry with, like, zero percent body fat and a smattering of random tattoos on his forearms.

  Another barista calls Hazel’s name and we collect our beverages. Numbers scrawl along the side of mine.

  “I think our drinks got mixed up.” I hold the cup with the number out to her.

  She finishes her sip. “Nope. This is what I ordered. Catherine, all it takes is that magical, adorable, dimpled smile of yours and guys are smitten. You’re as cute as a kitten, anyone ever tell you that?”

  Kellan’s nicknames for me float through my mind. Cat, Catnip.

  I hiss at her, my breath a puff in the cold, “I have not been smiling.”

  “You haven’t stopped smiling all morning. That’s what happens when you let go of old baggage.”

  The thing is, I don’t think I’ve let it go. I’m pretty sure it was just specially delivered into my proximity in the form of a tall, attractive Marine who’s been MIA for the last five years.

  Hazel goes on, “And welcome new possibilities. The hottie in 7G possibilities. Man-bun-barista possibilities. Gym stud possibilities,” she says as the warm heat in the building seals us inside.

  “Hey, Hazel,” calls a guy with abs that are a work of art. It’s no wonder she was quick to say yes to help Danni.

  Hazel smiles at him and then nods at me. “Date number three.”