by Amy Brent
Table of Contents
First Love
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 20
EXCLUSIVE: Teach Me, Doctor
Knocked Up on Valentine’s Day
Fighting for Her
Knocked Up by Brother’s Best Friend
My Best Friend’s Brother
Booty Call
Copyright © 2018 Amy Brent – All Rights Reserved
First Love
A Single Dad Second Chance Romance
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Chapter 1
Melissa
“Come on, Sarah! We’re going to be late.”
I saw my little girl running around the corner with her black curls bouncing around her face. She ran with her arms outstretched to me, and I swept her up into my arms. I spun her around, listening to her giggles as she held on tightly to me, and I breathed in the deep scent of her hair as I held her close.
This was the only time I seemed to experience happiness anymore. My nights were long and sleepless. I tossed and turned, fighting off a drone that kept going on inside my head. I didn’t recognize the sound. The only sound I was familiar with these days were the sounds of my tears soaking my pillow. My body ached and my shoulders creaked. My knees cracked and my back would pop. I’d look at my daughter sometimes, and I’d miss the joy in her eyes because I knew she was studying me.
But moments like this, where she was happy and carefree despite how I looked, were the times I longed for in her life. They reminded me I wasn’t a terrible mother and that we would be just fine without my happiness.
Without Carl.
Without her grandparents.
“Mommy? Go school, please?”
“Yes, sweetheart,” I said as I sniffled. “We’re going to get you to school.”
Sarah loved going to daycare. I always tried to time our arrivals to when Ava showed up with her son, Logan. Logan was the same age as Sarah and was also growing up without a father, though the circumstances were a bit different. I met Ava when I was hired as the accountant for the tech company we both work for, and we bonded over our mutual titles as single working mothers. She was the main desk receptionist and single-handedly kept all of our lives and schedules intact. She was the epitome of the strength I wished to possess. She talked about the day Logan’s father left them as if it was nothing, and yet I could hardly talk about Carl’s death without losing my eyeballs to the burning tears.
My husband perishing in a car accident before Sarah turned one was difficult enough, but every single day I looked at her, she seemed to look more and more like him. Sure, she had my dark hair, eyes, and skin, but her facial expressions were all him. Every time she smiled. Every time she ran. Every time she got upset or cried or laughed, he was etched upon her. In the creases of her eyes and the wrinkles on her hands. Even her little tush I still had to wipe was shaped like his.
“Mommy late,” Sarah said.
“Come on. Want to go see Logan?” I asked breathlessly.
“Logan!” she shrieked.
I piled her into the car and buzzed through town to get her to daycare. Ava was walking in with Logan as we pulled up, and Sarah started kicking the back of my seat.
“Mommy, Logan! Look, look, look!”
“I see them, sweetheart. Just be patient.”
“Logan here today!”
I climbed out of the car and called out to Ava. She turned around and waved just before Logan broke into a run across the parking lot. I called out for him, running toward him so he wouldn't get hit by any cars before I scooped him up. Ava came running in her heels, fear and anger etched on her face as she scolded him.
“What did I tell you about the street?”
“Don’t cross no Mommy,” he said.
“Yes. Don’t cross ever without Mommy. You hear me?”
“And good morning to you, too,” I said as I gave Logan back to Ava.
“It’s been one of those days already, and it’s only eight thirty,” she said, sighing. “Let’s get these kiddos dropped off, and maybe we can chance getting some decent coffee before we head to work.”
“Not me. I have a doctor’s appointment at three. I have to get to work and knock some things out before I leave early.”
“You all right, Mel?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah. Just having some aches and pains that I don’t think are related to my sleeplessness.”
“The dreams of Carl coming back?” she asked.
“Mel, they’re always there,” I said, sighing.
We took the kids in and dropped them off. I watched Logan and Sarah scurry off hand in hand, and it brought tears to my eyes. The happiness and joy she found in this world made me both happy and jealous. I was so glad she didn’t seem to have my tendencies to be sad or down for no reason, but part of me wanted to experience the happiness she experienced. I wanted to experience the joy of simply holding hands with a friend like Mel was doing with me now. Even as the comfort from the warmth of her hand drifted up my arm, I still felt lifeless.
Empty.
Sad.
“I hope it’s nothing serious,” Ava said as we turned to head for the door.
“I’m sure it’s not. Just precautionary. Plus, if I’m lucky, I’ll get something to help me sleep. That’ll help with things.”
“Don’t I know it. I take a half a pill every night just to help me get there. Working single mothers don’t have it easy,” she said.
“You can say that again,” I said, giggling.
“I love that sound. You don’t do it enough,” she said.
“I know, I know.”
“You gotta let me know how it goes, all right? Call. Text. Email. Do something. I want to know before I eat dinner tonight,” she said.
“You’ve got my solemn promise.”
I hugged her neck tight and felt like crying. I tried to hold back my tears as I hugged her waist tightly, and for a moment, the world faded away. Ava had always been a very comforting person for me. She’d held my hand while I’d planned Carl’s funeral. She was there when I ranted about my parents and their lack of involvement in my life. She was there when I couldn’t sleep at two in the morning and wanted someone to talk to.
And she was here now, holding me in a parking lot as I cried on her shoulder.
“Did something happen with your parents again?” she asked.
“No.”
“And it’s not the dreams?” she asked.
“No.”
“Mel, have you considered the fact that you might be depressed?” she asked.
“I don’t fucking know anymore,” I said, sniffling.
“I hope you consider it. Be honest with the doctor. I’ve slowly watched you deteriorate over the past two years. You’ve lost weight. You’re forgetting things. Your smile has dwindled. I’m sure these aches and pains aren’t just popping up out of nowhere. Just be honest and open to whatever the doctor says, all right?”
“I will. I promise.”
I gave her one more hug before I hopped into the car. These were the moments when I wished I had my mother to talk with, moments when I wished my father was there
to support me. They’d disowned me when I left home at eighteen to attend a regular university. Why? Because they wanted me to go to a community college and stay at home.
All my life, I’d been sheltered. I couldn’t watch television because it would mold my mind in unhealthy ways. I couldn’t eat specific foods because they would mold my body in unappealing ways. Things like dating and sex and emotions were never discussed, treated as if they didn’t exist, and if I didn’t come straight home from school, there was punishment to be had. Even when I started showing an interest in boys, my mother simply sat me down and told me there was only one thing on their minds, and that one thing had the ability to forever alter my body and change the course of my life forever.
And that was the only time we addressed it.
I pulled into the parking lot of the tech company and quickly made my way up to my office. I started knocking out things and calculating balances, going over budgets and preparing things for meetings. I gathered up all the materials I’d need in order to hand them over to my boss, and by the time I caught a break to check the time, I had to leave for my appointment.
“Excuse me, sir?” I asked.
“Melissa! My favorite accountant. Come on in. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to remind you that I need to slip out for my doctor’s appointment,” I said.
“Yes, yes. You’re fine. Thank you for getting these budgets and final figures to me on time. How are we looking for the company holiday bonuses this year?” he asked.
“We can afford as much as fifteen percent of everyone’s annual salary,” I said.
“Fifteen percent? Wow. We must’ve had a good year,” he said, grinning.
“We did, sir.”
“Get on to that doctor’s appointment. Let me know if you’re all right. If you need time off, take it. You never do that and you should, you know. Especially with Sarah being the age she is.”
“If I need the time, I’ll let you know,” I said.
I grabbed my stuff and shut down my office for the day. I’d headed across town to my appointment and was sitting in the office when my neck began to ache. I closed my eyes and felt the headache slowly waft up my back. My shoulders creaked as I stood at my name being called. That had to be sure proof I was aging at twice the normal rate.
“Melissa Conway? The doctor’s ready for you.”
The nurse guided me back to a room, and I shut the light off after she left. The headache was growing into a migraine, and I groaned as I lay on the patient bed. Tears stung the back of my eyes as my mind started to run away from me, and before I could stop it, his face popped into my mind.
That face I’d never be able to forget.
“Miss Conway?” the doctor asked. “Are you in here?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, groaning.
“Can I turn on the light?” he asked.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I said.
“All right. Writing down ‘migraines’ before I come in,” he said.
The door opened, and I felt a person at my side. There were some light touches around my head, some poking of my nose, and then he started in on his wellness exam. He rolled my stomach and checked my breasts for lumps. Then he slowly moved each of my joints and noted which ones popped and which ones caused pain. He jotted down some notes on his pad before he told me to open wide, and I stuck my tongue out as he examined my throat, my ears, and my nose.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions, but I think I know what’s going on,” he said. “Are you still experiencing the sleeplessness?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just as frequently?” he asked.
“Uh huh.”
“I clocked pain in your knees, hips, and shoulders. Anywhere else?”
“Right now? My neck and head.”
“Did that just start?” he asked.
“In the lobby when I sat down, yes.”
“Are those frequent, too? The migraines?”
“Not as frequent as general headaches, no,” I said.
“Let me ask you this, Miss Conway. How many times a week are you crying, and are you producing mucus when you cry?”
“That’s an odd question,” I said.
“I need to know if your sinus ducts are draining. How many times?”
“Um, five or six times a week, maybe? And yes, mucus every time.”
“Uh huh. Experiencing any mood swings? Drastic changes that happen on a dime?” he asked.
“Sometimes, I guess. I wake up sometimes feeling happy. Then I get going, and my mood changes.”
“Are there triggers for the changes?” he asked.
“Not always. Sometimes I wake up, and my daughter’s written on the walls or gotten into the milk, but I never get upset with her. I just clean it up and keep going.”
“Do you get sad about it?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sometimes I cry over spilled milk,” I said, grinning.
“A joke! That’s good. All right, one last question. Do you ever wake up crying?”
“I do, yes.”
“Are you ever dreaming about anything specific when you do?” he asked.
“Not always. There’s this droning that I can’t seem to get out of my head. I know I sound crazy, but that’s usually it. Just a droning.”
“Not crazy at all. How’s your head feeling?” he asked.
“Not too good.”
“Let me go get you something we can give you for it, and then I’ll be back with my diagnosis.”
I wasn’t sure how long he was gone. I nodded off in the dark, my mind wafting back to the days when I was younger. I could remember his eyes, those baby blues juxtaposed against his dark black hair. His touch had been so gentle, and his strokes had been so kind. He’d listen intently as I complained about my parents and all the things they’d never let me do. He was the first boy I’d ever loved. The boy I knew I’d love the rest of my life.
Until he left for school and came back with a beautifully thin Russian bride.
“Miss Conway? If you could roll up your sleeve, I’ve got something for that migraine.”
I reached over and groaned, my shoulder popping as I rolled up my sleeve. I felt the cool alcohol pad trace circles on my skin before a pinprick and then the burning sensation as the migraine immediately began to subside. I sighed with relief as the bandage was placed on my skin. Then the light slowly increased, and I got a glimpse of my doctor.
“Hello, there,” I said.
“Hello, Miss Conway. I’ll make this quick because I know you have to get your daughter. I believe what you have is something called Major Depressive Disorder.”
“You think I’m depressed,” I said.
“I’d even go out on a limb and say I know you are. And from the sounds of it, you’ve been this way for quite a number of years.”
“Years?” I asked.
“Yes. When chemical imbalances like this are left to ravage the body, it begins to break down things like fat and muscle tissue in order to keep going. The breakdown of fat results in weight loss, which I can see by your charts you’ve experienced in droves, but the breakdown of muscle leads to the pains you’re experiencing. Especially in the major joints of the body.”
“So, what? I need to see a shrink?” I asked.
“I think you need to see someone, yes. There’s a psychiatrist in the area who is renowned for the work he does. He’s established all over the country, but his headquarters are right here in L.A. I can get you his card, and if you want, I can put in a referral for you. That way, they can call and help you book an appointment.”
“All right. Sounds good,” I said.
“Let me get you checked out, and I’ll get you his card.”
I slid from the bed as my mind continued to swirl. One of the only memories that still brought me any semblance of happiness was the night I was with him. His dark hair was soaked with sweat as he worked to pleasure my body. I could still feel his breath huffing in the crook of my neck. I could
still feel the way his body filled mine, taking from me the virginity my parents never talked about. That boy opened my eyes to the world around me, promising to teach me things in and out of the bedroom. I could remember the whispered promise he made in my ear. A promise to come back for me once he had his degree.
I smiled as I felt my neck prickle with delight as his voice echoed off the corners of my brain.
“Here’s his card, Miss Conway,” the doctor said. “I’ve got the referral prepared. All you need to do is call and let me know whether or not to put it in.”
