The Problem with Dating
The Problem with Dating
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Copyright 2020 Monica Clayton
Published by M.E. Clayton
All Rights Reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. The entire content is a product of the author’s imagination and all names, places, businesses, and incidences are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), places or occurrences, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner, whatsoever, without the express written consent from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Formatting: Smashwords
Cover: Adobe Stock
Warning: This book contains sexual situations and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 years of age and over.
Table of Contents
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Author's Note
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Playlist
Prologue
1. Echo
2. Gideon
3. Echo
4. Gideon
5. Echo
6. Gideon
7. Echo
8. Gideon
9. Echo
10.Gideon
11. Echo
12. Gideon
13. Echo
14. Gideon
15. Echo
16. Gideon
17. Echo
18. Gideon
19. Echo
20. Gideon
21. Echo
22. Gideon
23. Echo
24. Gideon
25. Echo
Epilogue
About the Author
Other Books
Contact Me
Newsletter Sign-Up
Author’s Note
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Just a couple of things before I let you go and get your read on. While I am doing my best to work with better editing and proofreading software, all my books are solo, independent works. I write my books, proofread my books, edit my books, create the covers, etc. I have one beta who gives me feedback on my stories, but other than that, all my books are independent projects.
That being said, I apologize, in advance, for the typos, grammar inconsistencies, or any other mistakes I may make. Since writing is strictly a hobby for me, I haven’t looked into commitments in regard to publishers, editors, etc. My hope is that my stories are enjoyable enough that a few mistakes, here and there, can be overlooked. However, if you’re a stickler for grammar, my books are probably not for you.
Also, I am an avid reader-I mean an AVID reader. I love to read above any other hobby. However, the only downside to my reading obsession is when I fall in love with a series, but I have to wait for the additional books to come out. And because I feel that disappointment down to my soul, when I started publishing my works, I vowed to publish all books in my series all at once. No waiting here…LOL. Now, the exception to that will be if enough readers request additional stories based off the standalone, such as in Facing the Enemy. At that point, if I decide to move forward with a requested series, I will make sure all additional books are available all at once. As much as this is a hobby for me, I am writing these books for all of you, as well as myself.
Thank you, for everything!
Acknowledgements
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The first acknowledgement will always be my husband. There aren’t enough words to express my gratitude for having this man in my life. There is a little bit of him in every hero I dream up, and I can’t thank God enough for bringing him into my life. Thirty years, and still going strong!
Second, there’s my family; my daughter, my son, my grandchildren, my sister, and my mother. Family is everything, and I have one of the best. They are truly the best cheerleaders I could ever ask for, and I never forget just how truly blessed I am to have them in my life.
And, of course, there’s Kamala. This woman is not only my beta and idea guinea pig, she’s one of my closest friends. She’s been with me from the beginning of this journey, and we’re going to ride this thing to the end. Kam’s the encouragement that sparked it all, folks.
And, finally, I’d like to thank everyone who’s purchased, read, reviewed, shared, and supported me and my writing. Thank you so much for helping make this dream a reality and a happy, fun one at that! I cannot say thank you enough!
Dedication
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For My Readers –
You guys really, really are the best!
Playlist
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Wolves – Selena Gomez
If Any Falls – Stevie Nicks
Little Jeanie – Elton John
High Enough – Damn Yankees
Seven Days – David Graig
Listen To Your Heart – Roxette
Drive – Incubus
Addicted – Saving Abel
Everywhere – Fleetwood Mac
Breathe – Faith Hill
Prologue
I winced because, even though I had been prepared for the sting, it still stung like a sonofabitch.
But then, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
I had known the second I had forgotten Mayor Garrison’s wife’s name that Marco was going to lose his shit over the slight. Even though everyone else had been gracious about it, to Marco, it had been an embarrassing oversight, and that was one thing he didn’t tolerate.
Public perfection was a must.
As a city councilman for Bratton, California, public appearances were everything. It didn’t matter that, at the age of thirty-five, he still hadn’t risen above a city councilman. It didn’t matter that politics in the small town of Bratton weren’t cutthroat with excitement. It didn’t matter that he’ll probably never be voted into anything higher than one of Bratton’s city councilmen. Marco thought he was someone important. And looking at him, you might think he was.
Marco Romano was six-foot-one of immaculate perfection. His dark brown hair was always cut and styled by a professional. His suits were always tailored to fit his tall, muscular frame. He had dark brown eyes, and a face that made you take a second look. Marco actually looked like the younger version of Alessio Boni, the actor. He was simply a good-looking man.
He was also an abusive asshole who I was unfortunately married to.
Replacing the bloody alcohol pad with a fresh one, I dabbed at the split that now cut across my lower lip and cursed inwardly. Split lips were a bitch because, until they healed completely, you had to deal with the possibility of them splitting open again every time you opened your mouth. And God help you if you liked salty foods.
Now, granted, this was the first time I’ve had to deal with a split lip this severe before, but I’ve had them before. As a kid, I’d been wild. I had taken after my dad in all things tough, much to my mother’s dismay. Rather than play dress-up or hold fake tea parties with my dolls, I had been helping my dad do the yard, change the oil on our cars, or just roughhousing. So, I’ve known broken arms, stubbed toes, sprained ankles, and, yes, split lips.
Looking in the mirror, and dabbing the cut, this has, however, been the first time I’ve experienced a split lip at the hands of another human being.
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nbsp; The bathroom door swinging open caused me to jump in surprise. “What the hell’s taking you so long?”
“The bleeding won’t stop,” I replied casually.
“Quit being dramatic, Echo,” Marco huffed. “It’s not that big of a deal.” He believed that, too. Marco believed that, as long as it wasn’t a closed fist, it wasn’t that big of a deal. At least, that’s how he explained it the first time he hit me, a little over eight months ago.
Three months after we’d gotten married.
However, he was wrong. He didn’t get to dictate what was acceptable for my body or peace of mind. But then, a lot of Marco’s philosophies hadn’t started to take form until after we had gotten married. Apparently, being Marco Romano’s girlfriend was quite a difference experience from being his wife.
I stopped cleaning up my cut and turned to look at him. “It is a big deal, Marco,” I told him. “Abuse, in any form, is a big deal.”
“Getting slapped around because you don’t know how to act in public is a far cry from abuse, Echo,” he shot back. “Quit being weak.” Before I could tell him to go fuck himself, he added, “If you’d just get your shit together, I wouldn’t need to discipline you.”
I looked at my husband of not even a year and said, “I told you what would happen if you ever hit me again.”
He had the nerve to smirk. “And where are you going to go, Echo? To your parents? To one of your friend’s houses?”
The bastard.
Both my parents had died in a car wreck three years ago, shortly before I had started dating Marco, and I didn’t have any friends. Marco had taken me in during my grief, and I’ve known nothing else since. I didn’t even have a job because Marco needed a wife and homemaker, not a career woman.
“I’m not helpless,” I informed him.
“And what makes you think I’ll let you leave?” he asked menacingly.
This time, I was the one who smirked. “My ace in the hole, Marco,” I replied. “My ace.”
Chapter 1
Echo - (Three Years Later)~
How early was too early to drink?
As I looked around the lonely, empty house, boxes scattered everywhere, I knew the next few months were going to be rough. While I didn’t have a problem doing things on my own, there were still only twenty-four hours in a day, no matter my determination.
I was finally moving into my new place this weekend, and I had one week to get it semi-livable before I started my new job at Granger High as their newest math teacher. Even though school didn’t technically begin until mid-August, the teachers started working the first week of August in preparation for the new school year.
And I couldn’t wait.
The excitement has been buzzing ever since I had gotten the job. After I had left and divorced Marco, I had struggled to build a life from the nothing he had left me with. We hadn’t been married long enough for me to be entitled to anything, and my pride wouldn’t let me ask that man for anything other than the divorce. His taunts and reminders that I’d had nothing wouldn’t let me ask him for even a crumb.
My parents had both been only children, but I remembered my mother had a great aunt who had lived in Carmel. Mom had always told me that the woman was a little on the crazy side and didn’t like people, so we had never visited. But my mom always sent her holiday cards and gifts, even if we had never gotten anything back. So, with both my sets of grandparents long passed, and no other family to speak of, I had reached out to Aunt Charmlee, and had left pride outside the door as I had explained my situation.
I hadn’t really expected her to help me, and she hadn’t seemed too keen on wanting to help me, but then she had asked me how I had managed to wrangle a divorce out of Marco-her words, not mine-and I had told her the truth.
Marco had hit me only those two times. However, the first time had been shame on him, while the second time had been shame on me, and there wasn’t going to be a third time. So, unbeknownst to him, I’d had my phone propped up and already recording when he had barged into the bathroom the night he had hit me the second time. I’d known he would come in because he liked to argue. Marco didn’t stop until you agreed he was right, and he was going to make sure we went to bed that night with him in the right and me in the wrong-again.
After I had put away the medical kit and left my lip to air dry, I had walked into the bedroom with Marco hot on my heels. Placing my phone on the nightstand next to my bed, he’d been too mad to notice how I’d propped it up again. We had fought some more, and the more we had fought, the more he had damned himself until I’d had enough on my phone to ruin him. And as much as he deserved to go to jail for hitting me, I had traded my silence for a quick, uncomplicated divorce, where he could tell anyone whatever he wanted, as long as I was free of him. He hadn’t had a choice if he had wanted to remain a political figure in Bratton, or anywhere else for that matter.
When I had finished explaining all that to Aunt Charmlee, she had asked me, “So, you’re not a victim?’
I had looked her in the eyes and replied, “If I was a victim, I wouldn’t be here.” She had welcomed me into her home after that, even if we did hardly speak or spend time together.
So, after moving in with Aunt Charmlee, I had gone back to school to re-certify my teaching credentials. I had been a teacher when I had met Marco, but between the loss of my parents and letting Marco manipulate me into believing my best choice was having him take care of me, I had quit my teaching job and had revolved my life around Marco and his needs. And for a couple of years, things had been perfect between us. So perfect, that I had married him after only two years of dating.
After finally getting everything up to requirement, I had started sending out resumes to schools all over California. I hadn’t really cared who hired me as long as I could finally get back on my feet and start having a life again. While Aunt Charmlee had never gone overboard with her affections, she had quietly supported me, and she had never made me feel like a burden. She had never asked me when I was leaving or anything like that. She never asked me to pay her back for food and board, though I did contribute with my part-time job as a waitress at a local restaurant. I had been able to work nights and complete my re-certifications during the day.
Shortly after sending out my resume, I had received an offer from Granger High, and I hadn’t even bothered with waiting to see if I’d get any other offers.
I had accepted immediately.
However, life hadn’t been all roses and rainbow after receiving my offer. Three months later, Aunt Charmlee had come down with a severe case of pneumonia, and she passed only a few weeks later. The devastation had been real. She’d been my last family member, and it had really hit home how I was completely alone after losing her.
And it hadn’t mattered how much time I spent with her, during those last few weeks of her life, telling her how much I loved and appreciated her. There was no way she could have truly understood the difference she had made in my life. She had kept brushing off my gratitude, but I still never stopped telling her what she meant to me until I had to; until she was gone.
The biggest surprise, however, had come a couple of weeks after I had buried Aunt Charmlee, when an attorney had reached out to me, explaining that she’d had a will, and I was in it. We had made an appointment, and I still got breathless when I thought back to our meeting.
Aunt Charmlee had left me everything she had, and it had been a lot. She’d had a life insurance policy that had paid out a quarter of a million dollars, and if that hadn’t been enough, she had given instructions to sell her house with all proceeds going to me, so that I could buy myself a home wherever I chose to make a life.
I had cried every day for a week.
So, after the sale of the house, taxes, and going through all of her belongings, I’d had enough money to buy a nice home in a great neighborhood that was only fifteen minutes from the Granger High School. It needed a little bit of work, but, thanks to Aunt Charmlee, I had money for that.
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I had purchased the home with the money from the sale of her house and the life insurance had been put into a savings account, untouched, in case another disaster befell me. Again, life had already fooled me once that the second time was on me. I wanted to be prepared unlike the first time.
The house was a nice three-bedroom, two and a half baths, with a big backyard. I was hoping for a pet once I got settled, but that could wait. I wanted a big, sloppy, happy dog that will be as happy to see me as I will be to see him.
The biggest inconvenience will be living out of boxes in the meantime. I didn’t want to unpack only to have to shove everything aside when I finally hired a contractor to repair the some of the flooring in the bathroom.
When I had inquired about the house, the seller had been completely honest about its conditions, and had admitted to some flooding that should be checked out. I had known there was a reason the house had been selling for so cheap, but I’d been so excited, I hadn’t cared about the additional costs. The home belonged to me outright, and that freed up a lot of my teacher’s salary for repairs.
The only problem was that the flooding had begun in the master-bedroom, and the seller couldn’t tell me how far the damage had extended. So, that meant finding a contractor who wasn’t going to snow me with contractor talk and rob me blind.
But even if he did, I couldn’t tap down the emotion that raced through me whenever I thought about all Aunt Charmlee had done for me, both when she had been alive and now that she has passed. I was so grateful for her that I wasn’t even sure if I could get mad at a thieving contractor because I had more than I ever imagined I’d have after that shitshow with Marco.
Thinking of him, I was glad I’d been able to get out that situation when I had. And I was especially grateful that we’d hadn’t had any kids together. Even if I had been strong to leave with my children, Marco would have been someone who would always be in my life because of the children we shared, and that would have been miserable.