Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

G is for Guilty

Amelia: March 28th, 2026

When I wake up the next morning, I can’t stop thinking about Frank. Was that whole thing real? Did I really have dinner with a total stranger? Why did I do that? Six months ago, I was accepting Calum’s proposal and now I am getting phone numbers from attractive men.

It could have been worse, I suppose. I could have slept with him. That would definitely have been worse. But then that thought won’t leave my mind. Arg. I should delete his number and pretend like that day never happened.

But what if I change my mind? What if I text him and then the next thing I know, I’m sleeping with him? That’s a leap, I know, but it’s the things I worry about. It’s the things I feel guilty about even thinking.

Okay, compromise. If his number is in my phone, I can impulse text him. That’s bad. I take out my phone and grab a scrap of paper from the kitchen. I write his number down on the piece of paper. I fold it in half, then in half again, and look for a place to put it. Under the mattress? No, that’s no good. I’m already thinking about him too much. In my underwear drawer? God that’s even worse! What is wrong with me?

I got it. The junk drawer in the kitchen. It’s a mess anyway, so it’s not like it’s easy to find amidst the random papers already in there–coupons for the grocery store that are probably expired, manuals for appliances I no longer own, you know: the junk drawer.

Now I can delete his number from my phone, but if I regret it later, I can still get it.

Even so, my finger hovers over the delete button and I have trouble going through with it. What’s the harm in a little text?

No, I need to delete it. Because right now, I have an hour to be dressed and presentable. My almost-mother-in-law is going to be here in 60 minutes.

Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

F is for Fiancé

Amelia: September 1st, 2025 6 months earlier

The sun is shining, it’s Labor Day, and I am floating along a river with my boyfriend and a bunch of our friends in individual tubes. It’s lovely. A last hurrah before the Fall truly sets in. I have my eyes closed, but I feel my boyfriend’s warm hand on the back of my neck as he drifts over to me. “Hey, Amelia,” he says. 

I smile before I open my eyes, but when I do, I can see him drifting along beside me. “Hey, Calum.”

His hand slides down my shoulder, then my arm before he takes my hand in his. Our hands fit together so comfortably, and I almost close my eyes again, but then he says, “I need to ask you something.”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“Amelia,” he says, and his voice is so serious and our eyes lock together. My breath catches in my throat. This is either really good or really bad. “I love you.” Is there a but coming? “I want to spend every day with you.” My brain is running a million miles a minute. My thoughts range from of course you do, we live together to but I’m sick of you and want to break up. “Will you marry me?”

I blink a few times, trying to clear my head. Did he really just ask me to marry him? Yes. Yes. Of course. Yes. But it takes a second for my body to catch up, my breath to return, and for the words to tumble out of my mouth. “Yes, of course, yes.”

He grins, and then pulls my tube as close to his as he can get. He yells, “She said yes!” and then we kiss. A cheer goes up from the rest of the group.

When we get back on shore, we hand in the tubes we had rented and go to our car. He goes into his bag and pulls out a ring. It’s magnificent and perfect, and I love it. “I didn’t want to give this to you on the river,” he explains. “I thought that was asking for trouble.”

“You might be right,” I say. He goes to slip it on my finger, but it’s too big. I try it on my middle finger and it slides on and stays put. “I’ll just wear it here for now, and then we can get it sized.”

He just keeps grinning at me and kissing me. It’s a magical proposal. My fiancé. Goodness, I’m so happy.

Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

E is for Excuses

Amelia: March 27th

“Two?” the host says when we walk into the bar.

He looks at me. “Do you want to sit at the bar?” 

“Sure,” I say, and the host gestures to the bar behind her.

“Go right ahead,” the host says. The bar is dimly lit, with everything in dark, hard wood. There are neon lights with various alcohol types listed behind the bar. I climb up onto the stool, and drape my purse over the back of my chair.

We busy ourselves with looking at a menu for a few minutes. I keep coming back to the chicken platter. It’s a whole platter of chicken (duh) cooked different ways. How can you go wrong with that? It’s made for two people, so we’d have to share… “How about this chicken platter?” I ask.

He grins at me. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

I can’t help but grin back.

“I’m Frank, by the way.”

“I’m Amelia,” I say. It feels weird that we decided to order a shared meal before we even knew each other’s names. But nothing about my life is normal right now, so…

We order drinks and the chicken platter, and then chat while he sips his lager and I sip my margarita. The chicken is delicious, and I am glad we ordered it, but there’s no way we’re going to finish. I definitely didn’t eat half!

When we head out of the bar, there’s a moment of awkwardness. “So,” he says, “can I, uh, get your number?”

I smile at him. I don’t have a reason not to give it to him, do I? I don’t know. I’m all messed up. But I also don’t want this to be like the movie Serendipity. It’s already becoming dangerously close to Rom-Com. “Give me yours,” I say, taking a deep breath.

I hand him my phone with the new contact screen open. He types in his name and number and hands the phone back to me. Frank Blackwood. He smiles at me. “Did you take the train, or are you parked somewhere?” he asks.

I took the train. One of the many benefits of city living is being able to take the train wherever I want to go. He drove into the city because he lives just outside of it. He walks me to the train station. I find that I don’t want the night to end, but I can’t invite him back to my place. The thought is ludicrous.

“Can I…” he lets his voice trail off. I don’t know what he wants to ask. I’m kind of afraid.

“I need to…” but my voice trails off, too. I don’t know what I need. I need to go home. I need to get some sleep. I need to get through the next two days unscathed, which is almost impossible. 

“Can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

Tomorrow is Saturday. Normally, a Saturday morning… but that train of thought goes nowhere. There’s no normal for me now. I shake my head. “No, I’m sorry. I just can’t right now.”

“Oh, okay. Um.”

“I’ll text you,” I say. 

He nods. “Okay. Well, it was really nice to meet you, Amelia.”

“It was nice to meet you, too, Frank.”

And it was really nice, but it was a fantasy. I blip in my crazy life. Part of me wants to go back to his place and forget that my life is what it is. But I can’t do that. There’s just no way. Maybe it’s an excuse, but it’s my reality.

Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

D is for Dinner

Frank: March 27th

When the lights come up when the show is over, the whole audience stands and cheers for the orchestra. They really were amazing, especially the singer and choir that joined the orchestra. I glance at the woman to my right, the one I got the ticket from, I assume, and tears are still flowing down her cheeks freely. She’s stopped trying to wipe them away.

I want to ask her what’s wrong. The music is moving, of course, but this seems like there’s more going on than that. I don’t know why I feel this connection to her. I don’t even know her name. But the tears show real pain.

When the audience’s cheers die down, people start to file out of the theater. “Do you…want to get dinner?” I ask the mystery woman.

She blinks at me a few times, the tears slowing down. She wipes them away, and then, by the look on her face, she surprises both of us when she says, “Yes.”

We walk out of the theater side by side, and she says, “There’s a great little bar around the corner.”

“Sure,” I say. “Whatever you want.”

We don’t talk the rest of the walk to the bar, but true to her word, the bar is just around the corner from the theater. Its sign boasts about its amazing chicken platter. Well, I’m sold. Chicken and beer with a beautiful stranger. It’s going to be a great night.

Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

C is for Concert

Amelia: March 27th

The house lights are going down when someone slides past the other people at the theater. The seat next to me has been empty, and I won’t lie–there’s a part of me that has wondered who the stranger that picked up the ticket was. The person’s name was Dana, which didn’t tell me a whole lot.

But then the music starts, and I barely spare a glance to the stranger who is sitting next to me. I’m crying at the first notes, and I decide trying to stop them would be a vain attempt. The beautiful music moves me, the story moves me, and given that I’m sitting here alone instead of with my fiance, well…there is just no way I can help from crying. I came prepared with tissues, but it feels good to let the tears just fall silently down my face.

The silent tears keep falling throughout the first act, and as the lights come up for the intermission, a hand reaches over and hands me a handkerchief. My eyes find the tall man sitting next to me. He is handsome, with short, dark hair falling in waves, brown eyes, and a beard that’s just starting to go gray.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the handkerchief. The cloth is soft and feels clean, though the thought crosses my mind that I don’t know where this cloth has been that I’m about to press against my face. And there’s no way I can blow my nose into it, is there?

“You’re welcome,” he says, and his voice is deep. “You can keep it.”

“Thanks,” I say again.

He doesn’t pry, and for that, I’m grateful. He smiles, and then says, “I’m going to go grab a drink. Can I get you something? A bottle of water? Something stronger?”

I am surprised at his gallantry. A handkerchief is one thing, but I know how expensive the drinks are at the theater. Still… “A bottle of water would be great.”

He smiles, and moves off. By the time he comes back, the lights are dimming for the second act, and I realize that I don’t even know his name.

Welcome to the A to Z Challenge! I’ve been doing this for a decade, and I have many past A to Zs you can read if you’re interested in a longer story. This is going to be a continuous story, so you want to make sure you start with the Theme Reveal! (But I’m going to keep the posts short, so it’s easier to keep up.) I’m notoriously bad at reading other blogs, even though I love it when I do, so make sure to leave your link in the comments so I can hop over to see what you’re up to, even if you aren’t participating in A to Z! But you should definitely sign up and participate!

B is for Book Signing

Frank: March 24th

I walk into the bookstore and follow the arrows to the back of the room where the author is sitting. A short line has formed alongside her table. She has a stack of books in front of her, and as the next person approaches her table, she takes a book down. She smiles, and I feel a little thrill of excitement. She is a kink author, and in addition to writing excellent stories, she’s just my type. There is definitely a part of me that fantasizes about how when I approach her table, she will direct that smile at me, give me her number, and that would lead to us trying the very kinky things that happen in her novels.

But of course, she’s a professional, and she does smile at me when I come to the table, but she doesn’t do more than write my name in the book with a short message. I look down at the message when I sit down to listen to her reading.

Frank, 

Always try new things. 

Jayden R. Vincente

I run my finger along the ink, a little enamored that I was so close to her and that she wrote this right in front of me. I might be fanboying a bit.

Before I know it, she’s read a (very tame) part of the novel I’m holding, everyone is clapping, and she is exiting the bookstore. I am a bit more turned on than I would like to admit out loud, so I wander over to the fantasy and sci fi section of the store, trying to distract my mind.

Next to the Lord of the Rings books, I see a little flyer standing there. The Philadelphia Orchestra is playing the score to Fellowship. It’s… in a couple of days. How did I miss that? I am free, and I love that movie, but I don’t know if tickets will still be available. My phone search tells me that there aren’t any available except through re-sellers, and I’m not sure that I want to pay the exorbitant fees.

I fire off a text in lament to a friend of mine who loves Lord of the Rings.

Me: Fuck, man! I just saw that the Philly Orchestra is playing the score to Fellowship on Friday. I’d kill to go to that.

Ricky: Oh that sounds sick.

Me: Right?

Ricky: This is Alicia. I can get you a ticket. My coworker just posted one she’s trying to sell. I’ll set it up. $75.

Me: Rock on. Thanks, Alicia.

Well damn. My friend’s wife has a hookup for me somehow. I hope she isn’t trying to set this up as a blind date.