Not Just Another Love Story

Just a reminder to go check out Gemma's auction. She has some really great stuff over there. Oh, but don't outbid me. I've got my eye on a few things. (Smile) http://romanticinks.com/auction/

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((I’m under deadline…so here’s a blog I wrote for Novel Thoughts in December. Enjoy!))

November 17th was my wedding anniversary. Somehow hubby and I have managed to laugh our way through 24 years of ups and downs. I’ll be the first to tell you that there’s been more ups than downs. Not that he’s perfect. But he’s darn near perfect for me, which basically means that his flaws don’t drive me crazy, or too crazy anyway.

There was the morning after our wedding. We were in a cozy cabin in Ventura, California. The fireplace still had a few burning embers, the champagne was still cool in the ice bucket. He leaned in, kissed my cheek, and asked, “Do you want me to go get you some coffee and croissants, Jackie?”

I gazed at him. “That’s awful sweet of you. Only problem is, my name isn’t Jackie. But I just happen to know that it is your ex-wife’s name.”

You gotta know I’ve given him hell for that ever since. Poor man will go to his grave paying for that one. In good humor, of course.

Ahh, but the truth is that I know what I’ve got in my hubby. Because I’ve had a bad one. I’ve got ex-husband stories that could outwit, out beat most of yours. How many of you can say your ex appeared on an FBI wanted list? I’m serious.

And while I don’t wish bad marriages on anyone, I have to tell you that it was those experiences that inspired the Divorced & Desperate series. You see, like all three of my heroines in these three books, I know how hard it is to move past that pain, to trust again.

As a matter of fact, that pain almost prevented me and hubby from hitching up.

I’d just arrived in California and my mother, playing cupid, had targeted a Mr. Steve Craig. I was certain she was bat-shit crazy. With my heart still wearing band aids, the last thing I wanted was a man. And unfortunately, I pretty much let Mr. Craig in on that little secret.

Mr. Craig was a friend of my youngest uncle. Both divorced, every weekend, they went bar hopping. I actually met Mr. Craig the first night in California. It was like one of those awkward meets in a romantic comedy. He came in and everyone sat down, leaving only the small spot next to me open on the sofa. When he sat down, the cushion made this farting sound, and I wanted to sink like an unwanted penny between the sofa cushions.

The next weekend, my uncle said he wanted to take me out. What he’d neglected to tell me was that his friend was coming. When my uncle pulled up in his MG, a two seater, and expected me to crawl into Mr. Craig’s lap, I laid down the law. “I don’t sit in men’s laps that I don’t know.” I knew that car was gonna bump around and I wasn’t the type to give lap dances to strangers. More importantly, I’d had my heart gnawed on by one man and didn’t want to go there again.

My uncle let Mr. Craig drive so I could sit in his lap.

At the bar, Womphoppers, (a local meat market) we were sitting by the entrance watching as lonely people seeking company walked inside. I looked at my uncle checking out the hot babes. “Do you see anything that interests you?”

“A few,” he said. “What about you?”

I saw Mr. Craig lean in, all ears. It was time to nip this right in the bud.

“Nope. There’s nothing, nothing here that interests me.”

Mr. Craig raised his glass to me in a silent toast, and he and his drink went strolling through the bar to find someone “interested.”

Hours later, Mr. Craig, with a sexily-dressed redhead hanging all over him, walks up to my uncle and me. He introduced me to his new friend, and then asked me to convince her to join us for pizza at this great Italian place right down the hill. Being the friendly sort, I did my “southern” best to talk that woman into joining us. She declined, saying she was with friends.

As my uncle, Mr. Craig and I walked outside to head to dinner, my uncle’s ex-girlfriend came up. They took off to go discuss some unresolved issues, leaving Mr. Craig and I alone. For over an hour we stood by the locked car. It was chilly and Mr. Craig gave me his jacket. Somewhere in that hour, Mr. Craig became Steve. We chatted about everything from my five year old daughter to his dogs. I learned he was trying to get past his own divorce.

“Sorry I couldn’t talk the red head into joining us,” I told him.

He shrugged. “No big deal, she wasn’t my type.”

“Yeah, probably the perfect body and hair,” I teased.

He just laughed. And he had a good laugh.

When my unhappy uncle came back and got in the driver’s seat, Steve asked me if I wanted him to insist my uncle let him drive. I said no, I thought, now that I knew him better, I could sit in his lap. Yup, that was my first mistake. J

But the story doesn’t end there. It ends when we got to the restaurant and the sexy redhead jumped up and met Steve.

Steve told her he hoped she enjoyed her pizza then he picked up his drink and asked me if he could help me carry my tray.

I’m not going to say I fell in love with him then, it took some time to get those band aids off my heart, but he impressed me. And to this day when I give him a hard time about calling me by his ex-wife’s name, he accuses me of preventing him from getting lucky with some hot redhead.

So that’s a little about my hubby and about how we met. Do you have any “cute meets” in your past? Any funny hubbies or not-so-funny ex-hubby stories. No names please.
Crime Scene Christie