Forever Only Once: A Promise Me Novel

by Carrie Ann Ryan

  “Let’s wait until Dakota’s back,” I said, knowing that I wouldn’t get out of this. Frankly, I just wanted to get it off my chest. What had happened outside wasn’t why we were here today, so I’d just have to get over that little incident. It wasn’t as if something like that hadn’t happened before in my life. I held back a shudder. Sadly, it had. And incidents like it happened all over the world on a daily basis. Women were never safe. Not really.

  Wasn’t that a thought I wanted to think right then? I sighed.

  “I have your latte for you. Now, tell us what happened,” Dakota said as she took a seat in the booth. She had her back to the wall, her usual position so she could look out over her café.

  I took a deep breath and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, even though I was anything but. “Oh, I was just accosted on the road. I’m fine, though.” Everyone started talking at once, and I held up both hands. “One second.” I lifted the ceramic mug, blew on the top, and took a sip. I groaned, closing my eyes with my head tilted back. “Seriously, best coffee ever.”

  Dakota leaned forward. “Thank you. Now, go back to the whole thing you just said about being accosted.”

  I went through what had happened, and Paris’s eyes narrowed into slits by the end of my story. She was already trying to push Dakota out of the booth as if she could find the man and attack him, but I held up my hands again.

  “It’s fine. Seriously. Let’s just move past it. I’m not going to press charges, even if I ever see him again. It was just something that happened.”

  “It shouldn’t have happened at all,” Myra stated.

  “But we both know it does. It’s fine. I’ll never see him again. If I do, I’ll probably kick him in the nuts.”

  “You should have fucking kicked him in the nuts today,” Paris said, her voice low since she didn’t want to curse in the middle of the café.

  Dakota was the one who scared me, though. She just kept looking at me, her gaze intense.

  “No harm done. I’m just fine,” I said.

  Dakota tilted her head, studying my face. “You are. If you weren’t, we would go out and find that man, and we would cut off his dick.” She smiled as she said it, but I froze for a second before everyone burst out laughing.

  “You know it’s always the quiet and sweet ones,” Myra said, sipping her tea.

  “I’m not sweet, and we both know it. I can’t raise a little boy as a single mother and be sweet.”

  “No, I guess you can’t,” I said and then rubbed my temples. “Enough about me. We came here to talk about our plan. However, I almost feel like, after today, maybe I shouldn’t join in.”

  “No, none of us is going to back out.”

  Paris pulled out her day planner and looked at the notes she had made before. “We are going to finalize this plan. Because dating sucks, online dating is worse, and the entire population of men has dwindled to like four single guys. We need to find them.”

  “I hope there’s at least four,” Myra responded, tapping her spoon on the napkin in front of her. “If there isn’t, then we’re going to have to share. And while I admire triads, I’m not the sharing type,” Myra said, and I burst out laughing. It felt good to smile and laugh, and these girls usually did it for me.

  “So the plan…” Paris continued.

  “The plan,” Dakota echoed.

  “The plan is, we are going to find each other dates,” Paris said sternly.

  “Blind dates suck, though,” I said.

  “Have you ever been on a blind date?” Paris asked.

  “No, but that doesn’t mean they don’t suck. Going out on a date is scary enough. Going out with a stranger?”

  “A stranger that we will find for you. There are men in our lives at work, at the gym, at the grocery store, everywhere. A lot are kind. We’ve all said this in the past. But they just don’t fit us for one reason or another. We’re going to somehow make this work and happen for the rest of us.”

  “So…blind dates. That’s what we’re going with?” I was already nervous, and after what had just happened outside, I wasn’t sure I really wanted to be part of this anymore. But it had been far too long since I had been on a date, and I missed it. Oh, I might still have some fears, but I missed being in a relationship. I missed being held. Hell, I missed sex, but that wasn’t something I was going to say aloud.

  “Not just blind dates,” Myra corrected. “Perhaps there’s someone you already know in your life that we feel would be good for you.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.

  “We’ve already talked about this,” Dakota said. “We’re going to be open to dating. If there’s a man in one of our lives that we feel would be a good fit for one of the others, that’s one mark. Or maybe we want to help push each other in the correct direction.” Dakota frowned. “Not…correct, but at least decent. You know, or just find something that actively promotes a healthy relationship.” Dakota kept stirring her coffee. I wasn’t even sure the other woman had taken a sip yet.

  “Yes, healthy, loving, and hot relationships,” Paris said, tapping her notes. “We’ve already discussed this. Today, we are here to go over the final rules and to draw straws.”

  “Do we need rules?” I asked, a little worried now that this was all becoming real.

  “You are a mathematician,” Paris said. “You love rules.”

  “I know that, but I don’t know if I want to bring math into my relationships,” I said, laughing. I paused. “So math in a relationship does sound kind of hot, but I’m a nerd.”

  “I’m pretty sure we all are at this point, especially if we are actively pursuing this type of plan,” Myra said, her voice soothing and always a little classy.

  “What do we do?”

  “We are going to work as a group to find each of us a happily ever after,” Dakota said, nodding. “Because we are four amazingly smart, strong, and beautiful women.” She rushed the last word, and Paris snorted.

  “You are gorgeous,” Paris said. “Don’t even start with the whole ‘y’all are so pretty, and I’m just plain’ nonsense that you sometimes do. You’re fucking gorgeous, so just shut up.”

  I snorted and sipped my drink.

  “For such a sweet woman, your mouth sometimes surprises me,” I said.

  Paris raised a single brow. “I don’t think anyone has ever called me sweet,” she said and then looked down at her notes again.

  “We all need to write down the characteristics that we want in a man. Even though we’ve talked about this before, we are going to double-check. Then, we will draw straws and work on each of us one at a time. However, as we go through this, if we find someone that’s perfect along the way, we will take that into consideration. So, are we ready?”

  “I guess I don’t have a choice,” Hazel said, swallowing hard.

  “Good,” Paris said and looked down at her notes again. “Most of us want similar things, kind, caring. Some of us want beards, no beards. But that is just part of the appearance section and doesn’t matter so much.”

  “I would like it if he’s not a troll,” Myra said and then laughed. “I’m kidding. I’m not that much of a bitch. That much.”

  “We need four perfectly sexy but sweet, caring, gentle, growly, productive men. They need to have jobs, they need to—hopefully—not have criminal records, though we can look into that on a case by case basis,” Paris said with a nod.

  Dakota laughed. “This means we’re looking for four bearded unicorns, is that what I’m hearing?”

  I snorted and just shook my head. “We can look at the attributes at some point, but I honestly don’t think that’s what we’re going to end up with. As long as they’re not sleazy, slovenly, or sedate, it’ll work for me.”

  “We’re going against the three Ss,” Paris said, taking down more notes. “We will look for our bearded unicorns without the three Ss. Either way, we need to do something. Because I am not trying online dating again.”

  “I d
on’t even know how you did it the first time,” I said honestly.

  “Desperate times and all that. I have actual straws. Paper ones because we’re not using plastic straws here,” Paris said, holding up four.

  “Thank you for that,” Dakota said.

  “No problem. I’ve cut them down to size, and they’re all in my hands. We’re each going to choose a straw. The shortest one goes first, and so on.”

  “Not the longest?” Myra asked, her voice pure sarcasm.

  “We can make it whichever one you get goes first if you’d like,” Paris said, her voice haughty.

  “Let’s draw.”

  I closed my eyes and reached out, taking a straw. I didn’t want to see. The others all whispered, and I opened my eyes, knowing exactly what I would find. Because, why not?

  “Hazel, it seems that you will be the first to find your bearded unicorn,” Paris said, writing down the order.

  I didn’t even look at who would be next.

  It didn’t matter, because it was my turn. I was going to find my perfect happily ever after.

  And, somehow, I did not want any part in that.

  Not after today. Not after what’d happened before. But I promised myself that I would try, and here I was, trying.

  We went through the rules a bit more, but after looking down at my small straw, I knew I needed to go home and think. The others seemed to agree, wanting to do the same for themselves, so we disbanded.

  I was quiet in the car, not even listening to music on my way home, trying to imagine exactly what would happen over the next few weeks. Would I finally go on a date? Would I find that bearded unicorn as the girls had called him? Or would I try, fail, and then hopefully move on to the next phase of this plan?

  The latter seemed more likely. Mostly because I didn’t trust myself to actually do anything about what I thought I wanted.

  I pushed those odd thoughts from my head as I pulled into my driveway and got out of the car.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I looked around as I walked up, confused. No one was there. Thomas wasn’t here. I was just thinking about him thanks to that encounter with the stranger and now I was feeling things that didn’t make sense.

  I didn’t see anyone, so I pushed aside those worries for now. I quickly got into the house and double-locked the door behind me, my pulse racing.

  I was fine. No one was here to scare me. I was only seeing ghosts, things that didn’t exist.

  I was fine.

  And, eventually, I would go on a date, living up to the promise I made after a single glass of wine. I felt the little spark of hope that I had tried to ignore for so long.

  Maybe this would work out.

  Or perhaps I would end up broken again.

  Either way, I had to try.

  Because I had given up for long enough.

  Chapter 2

  Cross

  * * *

  I was not going to hit my coworker in the face.

  I was not going to strangle him.

  No, I was going to breathe, get through my anger, and realize that without coffee—for either of us—the guy was just an asshole. And I needed to get over it.

  “All I’m saying, Cross, is if you worked a little faster, we’d get through our schedule the way we planned to all along. I mean, I know you’re all into your art and shit, but we could be making some good money here.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Chris, we went into this business together. We know what we’re doing. However, you telling me to put away what I’ve been doing for what…ten years now? More? No, that’s not how this works.” I paused. “That’s not how it’s ever worked, and I’m not quite sure why you’re acting like that’s suddenly changed.”

  “Again, all I’m saying is if you put aside that one project for just a little while and work on these sets that could be for a larger commission, we’d make some quick money.”

  “Quick money isn’t the way things work, Chris. We both know that. Quick money isn’t a thing. It’s a scam. If I set aside the commission that I have, then I’ll be disappointing my clients, and I’ll be the asshole. My current project is for a big client, and they help with word of mouth. They always have.”

  “It’s a minor client, and we both know it.” Chris folded his arms over his chest.

  I closed my eyes again, trying to breathe through my nose. I had a temper, we both knew it. Hell, my family made fun of me for it. But I was also the steady one. I blew quickly, but then the anger went away, and I was there, solid as an oak, the one that stood against time—and all that other shit my little sister said.

  “Chris, if you want to do those commissions, do them. That’s your side of the business anyway. Me? I’m not going to set aside someone that we’ve been working with for years, just to work with a new person who says they’re going to pay double. Especially when it’s not in writing.”

  “You never did have ambition,” Chris grumbled and then stomped out of my workroom.

  I leaned back in my seat, pissed off that I had let it come to this once again. The two of us had worked together for fourteen years or so. We’d met in college, with me getting a business degree while working with wood and art on the side. I’d wanted to take additional art classes, as well as design classes, but I had known, even then, that I wanted to own my own business. I just needed to figure out how the hell to do it. So, I’d gone with a business degree while immersing myself in art on the side because I’d wanted to be my own boss, not work for someone else. The only problem was that I’d become best friends with Chris. The now egotistical asshole who was trying to give me a fucking migraine.

  Chris wasn’t the same guy he’d been over a decade ago when we decided to open up Chris Cross Furniture.

  It had been a cute name back in the day, my younger sister Arden having helped us figure it out.

  However, the Chris of Chris Cross was an asshole. He hadn’t always been that way, but over time, he had wanted more money for less work.

  I understood that, at least a bit. Of course, it would be nice if I could make millions or whatever Chris wanted and not have to work every day, but that wasn’t how the world worked—and Chris Cross did good business.

  We actually did excellent business, considering how the economy went up and down like a yo-yo these days. We made good money because we took care of our work and our clients. At least, we used to. Chris hadn’t been doing as much recently, and because we worked on our own commissions, that meant Chris wasn’t making as much money as he used to.

  I was just grateful that when we’d drawn up our contracts, it stated we would only pay ourselves based on what we worked on, rather than paying the business and then splitting it 50/50. That had been Chris’s idea back in the day because he had been making more money at the time. He’d been a rising star in sculpture, and I’d been learning alongside him.

  I hadn’t minded the way the contracts turned out, because I wanted to be paid for the work I did, rather than taking part of what Chris did and vice versa.

  We’d gone into business together because it was cheaper to share a space and the overhead. Property costs back when we first started had been high. Now, they were outrageous. But thanks to savings and my plans, I could afford the place on my own if I needed to.

  However, the plan we’d made wasn’t working the way it should these days. In fact, if anything, it only got on my nerves.

  The idea that we were furniture makers in this day and age wasn’t exactly the easiest for some people to understand. But I spent weeks to months on a project, hand-carving tables and art and chairs, anything I could create with my hands. At the moment, I was working on a table worth five thousand dollars. That’s what we had quoted, anyway. Sometimes this client liked to pay more, though, especially if I added in more details.

  I wasn’t banking on that though because I wasn’t about to take advantage of people like Chris wanted me to. I cursed under my breath and then shook my head before mo
ving from my seat so I could take a break. I couldn’t focus on what I needed to do if I was complaining about Chris in my mind for hours.

  Chris was off in his little workshop, music blaring. I hoped he was working. He had a commission coming up, and not the one that everybody wanted that he was begging me to work on.

  Considering that my name was on the door, as well, it would be unfortunate if Chris started to flake. I honestly didn’t know if I could trust him.

  That meant I needed to start thinking about what we were going to do about the fucking business.

  I let out a sigh and then went behind the building so I could walk off my anger. I didn’t smoke, hadn’t since I’d bummed one when I was a teen and had promptly thrown up afterwards. But right now, I wanted a cigarette. Needed to do something with my hands so I didn’t punch the wall or some shit. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I smiled as I looked down at the name on the readout.

  Yep.

  My sister seemed to know exactly what I was sometimes feeling. Considering that it had always been my job to make sure I knew what she felt when she needed to go to the hospital, or when she just needed an extra pair of hands, it was nice that it worked both ways.

  I answered the phone and smiled. “Hey there.”

  “Hi, big brother. I’m just checking in on you because I know you said you had a massive project due and wouldn’t be able to come over for dinner later.”

  “I was just taking my break. It’s as if you’re watching me.” I paused, looking around. “You’re not like actually watching me right now, are you? Like creepily?”

  “Shush. You’re the overprotective creeper.”

  “Ouch. Anyway, I know you and Liam have a project coming up, too.” Liam was Arden’s former-model husband, an author and therefore one of my sister’s clients, and a decent guy. If he weren’t, I’d have already beaten his ass. However, he worshiped the ground that Arden walked on, and was a protective asshole just like I was. We got along.

  “Yes, Liam’s on deadline, and so am I. Thankfully, on different books. He’s leaving on tour tomorrow, though.”