b>Chapter 1: I Can't Afford A Girlfriend /b>

Weasley.

Ronald Weasley.

That's all I knew about him.

His name.

I had no idea what he looked like. How he talked. How he walked. If he was fat, if he was ugly. If

he was a rich man or a poor man. I didn't know how he treated women, or if he even liked men

But I did know one thing about him.

She left me.

She left me for him.

Oh, Angeline looked so beautiful in red. When she wore i>anything /i> red, it brought out the

beautiful blackness of her hair and the twinkling in her big brown eyes.

One could have drowned in those eyes.

We had moved to London on account of my job. I work for Smithland Fine Arts Co. and they up

and shipped me to London to find various pieces of the old Elizabethan era.

So Angeline and I packed our belongings and moved to a spacious flat in the heart of London.

And oh God's! This place was beautiful! Old castles spotted the countryside and the early yelling of street

market vendors filled the bright hours of the morning. It was honestly the most charming place I have

ever visited. I was enthralled by the beauty and art of the old city. It really flipped me right over on my

head.

I took Angeline out to the most expensive restaurants. I loved her so much, and her beauty

enthralled me. Her beauty, to me, seemed like a beautiful piece of art. I would sometimes just watch her,

whatever she was doing, she could have been washing the dishes or even playing the piano. I just reveled

in the fact that she was mine, and mine alone. The silver ring on both our fingers justified my feelings.

Of course, it had not always been this way. We had both been college students at CGNU. She had

her friends and I had mine. To put it into social category, she was a prep and I was the geeky art student.

With only an art credit standing in her way of her Bachelor's, Angeline stepped into the same art class I

had occupied. She walked in the door and my breath caught in my throat. She just had this aura that

surrounded her that made people want to do things for her, or to make her laugh just so they could see her

smile. Of course, all of my fellow classmates practically dropped to their knees in front of her and started

worshiping the ground she walked on. But not me, I sat near the back. I knew that a Goddess like her

wouldn't spend the time of day with us acclaimed "Art geeks".

But surprisingly enough, my art teacher paired me with her for our final project. I received many

snide comments and malicious looks that day. Angeline came back and sat next to me. With her hand

outstretched she said in a voice of honey:

"Hi, my name is Angeline." I put out my hand to shake it, hoping to the highest heavens that it

wasn't sweaty.

"Hi, my name is Paul" I answered back, looking into her eyes. She smiled that contagious smile

and flashed me her pearly whites. God she was beautiful.

We worked day in and day out for our final project. We spent every night together (not sexually

of course) for three full weeks. By the end of the second day, she asked that question that makes all us art

nerds cringe.

"So Paul" she said innocently "Why don't you have a girlfriend?"

How do you honestly answer that question? I mean, you can say the usual 'Haven't met the right

girl' or 'I don't have time for a girlfriend right now in my life'. But allinall, you know those are just

cope outs. So, with my wonderfully smart brain churning, I said the first thing that popped into my head.

"I can't afford one" I said . . . and then of course, mentally kicked myself. 'Can't afford one?!'

why did I say that? That sounds like I'm some sort of prudish Scrooge! But instead of Angeline dropping

the subject, (like most girls I suppose) she started laughing. And I don't mean the cute little giggling that

girls do when the hot muscled ape of a football player walks down the hall. I mean fullout, chest heaving,

stomach clutching, eyes watering kind of laugh. I probably stood staring at her for a full fifteen seconds

before her contagious laugh became effective on me. I started laughing right along with her. By this time

she had kneeled down to the floor and was straining for breath while laughing very loud. She was still

laughing and got up from the floor, her makeup smeared and her eyes still pouring tears.

"Oh Gods!" she said still laughing "I probably look atrocious!" she rubbed her cheeks where her

mascara had ran. Suddenly on impulse, I brought my hand up to her face and wiped away the remaining

black gunk from her face.

"No Angeline, you look absolutely beautiful" I said in an almost inaudible whisper. She stopped

laughing immediately and covered my hand with hers.

"Thank you Paul" she said quietly, with a crooked smile playing on her lips. And then like they

say in the movies "A magnet seemed to be pulling us together, like opposite ends attracting."

I couldn't believe it, I was kissing Angeline. My brain had already died from shock. She

brought her arms up around my shoulders and ran her hands through my hair. I brought my hands down

to her waste and pulled her closer to me.

Of course, this was not my first kiss. I had had a steady girlfriend all through High School, but,

Megan and I left on bad terms. Needless to say, we did get plenty of kissing (as well as others) done in the

backseat of my car.

Breaking apart, I looked down into her big brown eyes. She looked up into mine.

And then WHAMBAMTHANK YOU MA'AM we were married and buying our first home.

As I stepped through the front door, carrying my beautiful bride in my arms, I knew that I had to

be the luckiest man on the planet.

Especially that night, being as our wedding night, we celebrated in the joining of both our bodies

in a union of marital bliss. In other words, we had sex all night long. Jolly good time it was too.

Over the next several years, we talked about children. So we tried. And tried. And tried even

more. But to no avail, as we weren't with child yet. We went to every fertility doctor on the east coast and

none of them could tell what was wrong. She has good eggs, I had good sperm. Wasn't that suppose to be

enough? Obviously not as another two years went by and every month good ole "Aunt Ruby" came to

visit. I was really really starting to hate her by then (Aunt Ruby not Angeline, just to clear that up).

I would walk through the rooms that were to occupy my children. A little yellow room with a

white crib and a wooden rocking chair. The window had a white drape over it and it fluttered and floated

in the breeze during the summer days. Walking into the nursery, this is where I felt so much pride. Not

only had I painted the walls with a montage of Noah's Ark, but I also made the tiny table that held a tiny

tea set. I had worked for sixteen months on that table, but I'm afraid that it wouldn't be put to any use.

Two rooms left, one that was a soft lavender and the other that was a dark blue. A girl and a boy. Oh, how

I wanted a little girl to come running up to me, her arms outstretched, yelling "Daddy! Daddy! You're

finally home!". Of course she would have the dark black hair of her Mother, and maybe the dark green of

my eyes. And then my thoughts turned to a little boy, with shaggy blonde hair and deep brown eyes.

Tossing a ball back forth on the front lawn, or teaching him how to ride his first bike. These two children

haunted my dreams. I would create Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, Independence Day. Any holiday I

could think of, and dream about all of us together as a family. Oh God, how I wanted the dark haired little

girl and that sandy haired boy.

But I had to stop. I really had to. It wasn't good for me, imagining up all these things with

someone that didn't even exist. I needed to focus on the present.

The day I stopped imagining about my future children, was the same day I received a letter from

my office.