Welcome to my serial novella.
It's a comic story of romantic redemption. The aim is to provide a fun and fast read with characters you can connect to emotionally.
There are 26 short chapters. This is the first.
Please let me know what you think. I will post one chapter a week. So, if you like this chapter, stay tuned. --Steven
A
Adonis was a strange name for a milkman.
An e-milkman.
That's how he described himself. She just had to order the dairy products she wanted on the Internet, and he would be at her door within the hour, bearing all the milk, butter and fresh cream she desired.
He was at her front door right now, having knocked politely three times - not-too-loud, not-too-soft. He offered her a brochure. And while she opened it to read, he slid a business card into the big sloppy pocket of her cardigan. Her fingers instinctively followed his into the dark woolen hollow. To get the card, she thought. But she found something else.
Out of sight, their hands met. Skin touched skin. A synaptic frenzy spread up her forearm, spiking tiny fair hairs to attention. She hadn't had sex since the last time she became pregnant, hadn't kissed a male over the age of three in 15 months. Just the prospect of flirting was so unaccustomed it felt like a sky-dive.
Adonis eased his hand up and out of the pocket. She wondered if he noticed, but he betrayed nothing. He was calm - standing with excellent posture, looking in her eyes, waiting with uncommon patience. She looked down at her tiger-striped house slippers. She composed herself. Their hands had been in the well of her sweater pocket far too long, but at the same time, she admitted, not nearly long enough. However.
Amy often used that negative conjunction to end things that really weren't ended. She would think or say "however" and then drift into silence.
Amy knew life was about negative conjunctions. She was 26, looked 36 and felt 56. She had a degree in public relations and had worked several jobs as a PR consultant. She knew how to look for the positive in any person, in any organization, in any situation. But that was public relations. Private relations had taught her the opposite lesson - that only the shadow of a negative outcome was required to contradict any plan, any hope. She knew life carried the potential for failure in its very conception.
Conception was an area in which she had some expertise. Three kids under five. She loved them dearly. However.
She noticed Adonis wore a white milkman's uniform - buttoned to the neck, but made of stretchy, clingy material, a lycra blend. His pectorals swelled to the punctuation of his nipples. He followed her eyes and immediately rubbed his chest.
"Cold for April," he said. "Should have worn my jacket."
"No," she said. She looked up and blushed. "I mean, I think it might be getting warmer. It's spring you know."
(More to Come)