A/N: Thank you to all of you who reviewed. You honestly have no idea how much your input means to me. Now, the first chapter was written in present tense, as it was happening in the moment. The rest of the story, for now, will be in the past tense, seeing as how it is a flashback. I hope you were able to draw that conclusion from the last couple of sentences of the prologue. I'm sure you were. Anyways, please enjoy this next, and technically first, chapter.
Oh, and I'm sorry I've taken forever to update. As you probably know, I was on vacation. And then, once I arrived home, I was terribly sick. But I'm better now and I promise updates will be more frequent than every two weeks. Thank you for your patience.
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One
In Which An Ancient Battle Is Won By Sneakers
People do a lot of stupid things. They start wars, pollute the environment, and, in my case, get married. I'm the perfect example of how love can blind and turn even the most intelligent individual into a gibbering moron. I mean, you date a guy for seven months and you think you know him well enough. That way, when he pops the big question, of course you say yes.
That was the worst mistake I had ever made in my life. Richard was definitely not husband material, even with his great hair. He was lazy, didn't have a well-paying job, and was a lousy listener. But of course, I was ever so happy when I married him. It was one of those 'best day of my life' moments. Looking back, I think I might have been drunk. Well, probably not, but excuses make me feel better about the stupid decision.
We had been married for a whole five hours before the arguments had started. And in the four years we spent together, they hadn't ended. I was twenty-six, living the same scenario in and out, day after day. It was enough to drive anyone batty. As of last Christmas, when I received nothing but a bruise as a present, I decided I wanted out. This life was not for me. I hated the arguing every day and night, the shouting, the loud crashing of breaking ceramic. I had nearly no plates left.
It was a clear blue Saturday, sometime in April that I had finally taken enough. Richard was in his usual armchair, taking a nice relaxing break after our routine morning fight. This time, it was because I hadn't bought the cereal he liked. Can you say three year old child? It was this petty argument that finally smacked me in the face like a tonne of bricks. I needed some time to myself, to relax; to purge myself of all Richard related thoughts.
As I sifted through my closet, trading my grey sweatpants for a pair of baggy jeans, I wondered where on Earth I would go. I had no car, as I had never bothered getting my licence. As a result, I was cursed to be stuck in this stupid little town, looking at the same stupid little houses. Perhaps a café somewhere. You know, sit down with a nice book and a latte. Now that sounded like a plan. I couldn't help but to smile as I donned a plain blue t-shirt. However, if I would have known what that night would cost me, my lips would be folded into anything other than a smile.
But, I wasn't physic so I proceeded to, as Richard said, 'put on my face'. I was never one for much makeup. It itched terribly and I always ended up smudging it in one way or another. Today was different though. I wanted to look stunning, so that as I walked out the house, Richard would know exactly what he was missing. There was also another thought racing through the back of my mind, though I would never admit it. In moments, the makeup was done and hair was naturally ready. A bob is so easy to take care of. Just brush and go, that's how I live. And the colour wasn't half bad either, a really nice delicate blonde, with all credit going to the best hair colourist in Dublin.
I was almost ready to go. I know that I should've just packed up and left, but as I said, there was a nagging thought in the back of my mind, one that told me to look my best. And, as every lady knows, an outfit is not complete without the perfect pair of shoes. Today, it was down to the age-old battle of comfort versus sex appeal. Sneakers versus heels. After some serious deliberation, about three minutes worth, I had chosen the sneakers. They were worn out, ancient looking, and perfect for the casual bachelorette look I was going for.
I felt almost guilty as I exited my bedroom, which was separate from Richard's, slipping off my wedding band as I did so. However, as I entered back into the main room of the apartment, I saw my husband's eyes on me.
"Get me a beer," he muttered demandingly.
All trace of guilt left and I felt sad that I had not taken the opportunity to flush the ring down the toilet.
"Get it yourself," I replied tensely, "I'm going out."
I moved towards the door, Richard's eyes boring into my back. I had my palm grasped around the doorknob before he spoke.
"Where you goin'?"
I cringed. What beautiful use of the English language. Oh well, Richard never was one for much intelligence. We barely got by with his mediocre job. I myself had not continued on with education after high school, although I wanted nothing more than to go back and obtain a degree in history. Political leaders had always fascinated me, what with their power over people.
"Out," I replied stiffly, continuing to walk out the door. Richard didn't interrupt me again. I knew he wouldn't care if I never came back, or if I was found dead in a ditch the next morning. What would bother him most would be having to move his ass to get his own beer.
Public transportation sucks. It's dirty and it never really gets you to where you have to be. Plus, it always seems to be my luck to get stuck sitting next to creeps. Today was no exception. On my left there was a very short old lady mumbling to herself in a language I had never heard before and on my right there sat a very smelly teenaged boy, no doubt having just finished an athletic activity of some sort. It took an excruciatingly long hour to travel the seven stops to my favourite coffee shop, but as soon as the bus driver hit the breaks I was off the vehicle, never happier to smell fresh air.
Carson's Café, my favourite place on Earth, save perhaps the Swiss Alps. Carson, the owner and a personal friend makes the greatest cappuccino known to man, and his lattes aren't half bad either. They're my preference. I usually only visit once a week, but this would be my third visit this week. I knew Carson wouldn't mind. He was a tiny bit flamboyant and loved the lively conversations we took part in.
I entered the café and noticed that, as usual, there were very few people inside. It was a very homey atmosphere and I think that was why I adored it so much. It made up for the home I lacked inside my apartment. As I approached the counter, I saw Carson smiling at me with perfect white teeth. I wished my smile could look nearly as wonderful as his. Every time I told him such he would always counter my comment, telling me he was envious over my 'emerald eyes'. I told him they looked more like dirty seaweed.
"Will it be the usual beautiful?" he asked.
I nodded, a happy laugh escaping from my lips and Carson got straight to work on my latte. I must admit, it was better than anything I had ever tasted before. I guess he could kind of sense I was upset, so he put some extra sugar in there. Pardon the pun, but he sure was a sweetheart.
As I sipped quietly on my coffee, I looked around at the occupants of the café. One in particular caught my eye. He was sitting off in a secluded corner, his nose buried in a newspaper. I don't know how long I stared, but eventually he looked up and our eyes met. There seemed to be something electrifying in his gaze and I was compelled to keep looking. In fact, my eyes didn't blink once as he stood, neatly folded his newspaper, and approached the counter, taking the seat next to me.
"Nice day, isn't it?"
His voice was casual, laid back, and almost seductive. I smiled ever so slightly as I raised my coffee to my lips once more, my eyes surveying this man over the lid. I liked his hair; jet black and an organised mess. I suppose that was the right way to describe it.
"It's not bad," I replied coolly. The man smirked as if he were going to enjoy the challenge of making conversation.
"My name is Artemis," he introduced himself, holding out a pale hand. I nearly dropped my latte all over my lap.
"Fowl?" I questioned. He nodded, his smirk growing.
"That would be me," he said, "I see my reputation proceeds me."
"That's not technically a good thing."
It was a perfectly honest statement. The Fowl family was known all over Ireland for their less than legal affairs. Even if they had been quiet for the past few years, everyone would always remember their escapades.
"Touché," Artemis said with a slight chuckle, "And your name?"
"Veronica," I told him. And then I returned my attention to my drink. I knew from experience that when it came to men, your first impression should never count for anything. I noticed that Artemis glanced quickly at my hands, no doubt scanning for a wedding band. Of course, he would not find one. Thoughts that had been swimming in the back of my mind all day were starting to surface.
"So Veronica," Artemis said, still trying to sound casual and failing almost miserably, "What do you do for a living?"
I nearly rolled my eyes. Such a typical question, it was obvious he had never really asked a woman out before. Of course, his simple question led to flirtation, which led to a date, which led to…other things. However, I wasn't exactly sure how to respond. What was I supposed to say?
Oh well, you see, I'm married to this horrid guy and I really hate him. I'm not doing anything special with my life and I wish you would just get on with it and ask me out on a date that way I can forget about the asshole I left at home.
"I…uh…I study history," I answered. A tiny white lie. I technically only left out the 'want to' part of the sentence. It was an error anyone could make. Really.
"History," Artemis echoed, "Very nice. It's important I suppose, to make sure we don't repeat our dreadful past mistakes."
"Yepp." It was the only answer I could muster. Artemis had just spouted the most textbook worthy answer ever. However, I did not agree with him. The truth was, I only liked history so much because I wanted to analyze what all powerful leaders had in common. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to have a say in something. I wanted to be powerful.
Artemis chuckled again at my minimal answer. I ignored his obvious approval of my stupidity and drained the last of my latte.
"Can I get you another?" he asked in a very gentlemanly tone. I shook my head. It was time to do things my way. I know it would make me a horrible person but…
"I'd prefer dinner."
"Is that an invitation for a date?" It had taken a moment for him to answer. Shocked, I suppose, that it would be so simple to snag me.
"I figured you were getting around to it," I answered, smiling myself.
"I would have," Artemis admitted, "How does tonight sound?"
"It sounds wondrous," I replied, while thinking how absolutely desperate that sounded. "Now, if you'd excuse me."
I stood and placed the exact change for the latte on the counter, waved goodbye to Carson and quickly jotted down my cell phone number for Artemis. And then I left, without another word. I noticed that the short woman from the bus was sitting on the bench outside. Odd.
It slipped my mind, however, as I thought about my date with a very eligible bachelor. This would be interesting.
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A/N: I hope that was worth the wait. Please review and let me know what you think. Thank you so much. Cheers!
-Liv xoxo
