Married This Year 4: Ticket To Ride Read online

  Married This Year

  Tracey Pedersen

  Married This Year

  Copyright © 2016 Tracey Pedersen

  All Rights Reserved

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying, scanning or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the author. This includes transmission by email.

  Reviewers are permitted to quote brief passages for the purpose of reviewing only.

  Married This Year is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is purely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized by, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my readers. Without them, there’s no reason to write and no fun emails and Facebook messages to answer!

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  New Year’s Eve

  January

  February

  March

  April

  May

  June

  July

  August

  September

  October

  November

  December

  Acknowledgment

  Where Can You Find Me?

  New Year’s Eve

  IF YOU’RE READING THIS TEXT, SOMETHING HAS GONE WRONG WITH THE PREORDER ON THE SITE WHERE YOU PURCHASED THIS BOOK. PLEASE DO NOT RETURN THE BOOK – PLEASE EMAIL ME AT [email protected] with a screenshot of your Amazon order for Married This Year 4: Ticket To Ride and I’ll email you the correct book file. My sincere apologies for this – occasionally it does happen in the publishing process that the wrong file is sent out to readers and I’ve started adding this message so readers won’t be disadvantaged if they accidently get the wrong one! I hope this helps you have a better experience and gives you a quick and easy way to get the problem fixed, should it happen to you.

  Tracey P

  xx

  “So, this might seem forward,” Jordan Parker’s date shouted to be heard over the music as she leaned closer, “but I’m interested to know if you masturbate.”

  “What?” she shouted back, sure she’d misheard. No one would ask that question fourteen minutes into a first date on New Year’s Eve, would they?

  “Masturbating,” he shouted again. “Do you do it? Would you let me watch?”

  From the corner of her eye, she saw the bartender jerk his head up and glare at the man in front of her.

  So, I didn’t imagine that.

  “I think you might have the wrong idea about me.”

  “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He grinned at her and took a swig of his beer as a glass of wine magically appeared at her elbow. She glanced up at the bartender, noting the sympathy etched on his features.

  “This one’s on me. You’re in for a long night,” he’d raised his voice, but turned his head so only she could hear him. She sighed and took a long sip from the glass.

  How the hell do I get rid of this guy?

  As if she’d summoned them just by wishing, her three best friends tumbled through the door at exactly that moment. They were a jumble of long legs, glossy hair, perfume, and laughter as they descended on her and surrounded her companion.

  “Who’s this?” Shelly asked.

  Jordan slipped off her seat before she answered. “No one. I was about to go.” She turned to him before leaving, “Sorry, this isn’t going to work out.” Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Shelly’s hand and led the group to the other side of the bar where they slipped into an empty booth. It was only nine o’clock—still hours until midnight and the end of this disastrous year.

  “Why didn’t you introduce us?” Emily asked.

  “You did not want to be introduced to that pig, trust me Miss Pennington! I’m not even going to tell you why—it’s too awful.” Jordan glanced around the room, which was slowly filling up. “If only I’d organised a decent date for tonight.”

  “Pfft... you don’t need a date.” Andrea reached out and squeezed her hand, “You have us. We’re going to have a great night, and fuck any man who tries to stand in our way.” The four of them laughed at her choice of words; Andrea was always mixing up sentences, so sometimes you couldn’t even tell if she knew what she meant.

  She finished her wine and Andrea went to the bar to buy them all another round. Just as she returned and took her spot next to Jordan, Boyd Ramsay appeared at their table looking pleased with himself. “Nice one, Boyd. You managed to avoid buying a round, as usual.” Jordan couldn’t help but bait him. It was a running joke they shared every time he was brave enough to join their group of friends for drinks.

  “Oh Jordan, don’t pick on him so early in the night.” Shelly held out her arms. “Come here, you sexy thang,” she shouted as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her hair.

  “Eww… get a room, you two,” Andrea yelled as they all laughed and jeered at the two lovebirds who were now kissing at the table. Shelly and Boyd had been together for ten months and things appeared to be heating up.

  “You ladies are making short work of those drinks tonight,” he indicated their glasses and Jordan was shocked to see she’d almost emptied hers.

  That’s three glasses of wine since I arrived. How long have I been here, now?

  “In honour of it being New Year’s Eve, along with my urge to shock the crap out of Jordan one more time this year, how about a round on me?” The four women cheered as he waved his wallet in the air. Shelly kissed him hard on the lips and he dragged himself away to head for the bar.

  “Oh my God, he’s so sexy. Look at that ass.” Shelly said, loud enough for the whole bar to hear. Boyd turned around and blew her a kiss and she blushed a deep pink at being caught.

  “Yeah, yeah, we know you’re in love. I guess we won’t have the pleasure of your company all night, now that lover boy has arrived?” Andrea said as she downed the last of her drink and slammed the empty glass on the table. “Luckily the bastard is buying us a drink!”

  Boyd returned carrying a tray with multi-coloured cocktails, and Jordan felt her stomach flip-flop.

  Uh oh. This will not end well.

  “Cheers!” the four women shouted as they clinked glasses and took their first sips of fruit juice laced with alcohol. As Shelly put her glass on the table, Boyd captured her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  “There’s something I need to ask you.”

  “What’s that? Do you need to borrow money again?”

  He rolled his eyes and squeezed her hand. “No, I do not need to borrow money, Shelly. Shut up and listen to me.” He glanced at the three women sitting in the booth and Jordan had a sudden premonition of what was coming next. “We’ve been together all year, and I’ve enjoyed every second I’ve spent with you.”

  “Except for that time you threw up for three days after I cooked those sausages,” Shelly laughed, still unaware of the moment she was ruining.

  He sighed out an exasperated sound and pulled her face to his when she mugged for the girls. “Would you listen to me? I’m trying to be serious.” She quieted and gave him her full attention. “Now, as I was saying, I love being around you. I love your friends,” he waved his arms t
oward the booth, “and I even love your cat. So, Shelly Cross, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Jordan whispered under her breath as Boyd dropped to his knees in front of her friend.

  She saw his lips move as he held up a ring that sparkled in the flashing strobe lights. Some of his words were lost in the beat of the music, but Shelly’s squeal was not. Her smile was the biggest Jordan had ever seen as she nodded and launched herself at Boyd. Their excitement was obvious, and she pulled away and let him place the ring on her finger. As soon as it was on, Shelly turned, searching for Jordan’s eyes in the booth. She held up her hand and mouthed, “Oh my God,” as her new fiancé swept her into his arms. Jordan grinned and gave her the thumbs up as her friend was lifted into the air and spun around.

  The girls giggled and chattered, and soon Emily and Andrea were deep in conversation about when the wedding might be and who Shelly would choose to be her bridesmaids. Jordan sat back and listened to them as they named their perfect wedding venues. She checked the time on her phone and watched Shelly dancing with Boyd on the crowded dance floor.

  They look so happy. I want to be happy like that.

  She opened her Facebook page and watched as her feed filled with everyone stating their resolutions for the next year or lamenting about the ones they didn’t keep last year. Her old school friend, Bonnie Brown, even posted links to a goal-setting app she was using to get her life on track over the next year.

  Maybe that’s what I need: an app and a plan.

  She clicked on the link and read the short blurb in the iTunes store. The app was designed to help you achieve one big goal during the year. It split your goal up into twelve equal monthly bites, and then prompted you to record your progress at regular intervals. She pressed the “Get” button and watched as the app downloaded. A cute pink button with a big, black checkmark appeared on her screen and begged her to try it.

  The first screen prompted her to enter her goal. She tapped her finger as she considered what she wanted to be doing this time next year. She glanced at Shelly admiring her engagement ring and suddenly her mind was made up. If Shelly could meet someone and get engaged in ten months, surely Jordan could do something similar.

  Here’s my resolution, then. Three hundred and sixty-five days from now, I want to be married—no matter what.

  She wrote the words into the space and saved. “Get Married This Year” appeared at the top of the screen in big, bold letters, and the app prompted her to enter the steps she would follow to achieve her goal. Sighing, she closed it and slipped her phone into her bag. There’d be plenty of time to work out the details tomorrow.

  Emily and Andrea were still head to head, talking weddings, and Jordan looked around for a familiar face. Maybe it was time she found someone to dance with. Before she could slip out of the booth, however, the newly engaged couple appeared beside their table.

  “We’re going to make a run for it,” Shelly said, her face a picture of apology. “Sorry to ditch you guys, but, well, you know.” She gave Jordan a hug and then moved on to the other two friends. “I know, I know,” she said, when they reminded her that it was poor form to ditch your friends on New Year’s Eve.

  As Boyd dragged Shelly toward the door, she turned to her three friends and screamed in a loud, drunk voice, “You’re all my bridesmaids!” They laughed and raised their glasses to her as she disappeared through the doorway.

  “I need some water. Do you guys want some?” Jordan stood on shaky legs and both Emily and Andrea leaped up to steady her.

  “We’ll come with you. Look, there’s three seats at the bar where you were sitting with Mr Awful earlier.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Jordan said. “He was the date from hell, and only fifteen minutes had passed.”

  They perched on the stools and ordered wine and water. Once they were settled, Jordan put her head on the bar and Emily and Andrea rubbed her back. The bartender watched with a sympathetic smile as she slowly sat up and put her head in her hands.

  “It’s alright, Jordan. She’s not moving away or anything,” Emily said.

  “Yeah. We’ll still be the four girls most likely to end up together,” Andrea smiled.

  “I don’t want us to end up together,” she smiled at them both, “no offence. I’m thrilled for her. I love Boyd to pieces, and I can’t wait to go to their wedding.” She lifted her head to look at her friends, “It’s just that I thought I’d be close to getting married by now and I’m not even in a relationship. I’m twenty-eight—before I know it, I’ll be thirty and then forty. Oh God, what if I’m not married by the time I’m forty?” She turned stricken eyes on them. “What will my mother say?”

  Both women laughed as her thoughts ran away with her. They patted her shoulder and signalled the bartender to bring them another round of drinks, which he placed in front of them. Jordan lifted hers to eye level and examined the green liquid. She knew more alcohol wasn’t the answer to her problems. Now that she’d mixed her drinks all night, there was no telling what tomorrow’s hangover would bring. She took a sip and plonked the glass down on the bar.

  “I’ve decided I want to be married by this time next year. I even downloaded an app to help me reach my goal. A decent boyfriend would be a great start, though. Is that too much to ask?”

  “Well,” Emily began, “what exactly constitutes a decent boyfriend for you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, let’s make a list. If you could conjure him up right now, what would your perfect man be like?” Emily called the bartender over and whispered in his ear, and then she pulled a cocktail napkin toward her. The bartender dug under the bar and reappeared with a pen. “Okay, here we go. We’re going to work out what you’re looking for in Mr Right, so you’ll know when you find him. What’s the most important thing he has to have to make him perfect for our best friend, Jordan Parker?” Emily tapped the pen on the bar and waited.

  “He needs a big—”

  “Don’t you even say it, Andrea!” Emily said with a laugh.

  Andrea scowled at her and rolled her eyes. “I was going to say, if you’d let me finish, that he has to have a big house.” She grinned at them both, sure that they didn’t see past her lies.

  “No, he doesn’t need to own his own house. I don’t own a house, so why should he?”

  “Well, what if your perfect man is forty five? Surely he should own a house by then?”

  “Hmm… I’m not so sure I need him to own property. It seems a little shallow to only want someone with money.” Jordan frowned as she considered the plain, white napkin. “How about a car? That’s definitely on my list of requirements.” Emily wrote it down at the top of the list as Jordan continued thinking out loud. “Not an ugly car, though. No old panel vans or a square car, like a Ford Escort.” She laughed as Emily added the note to the list. “My God, this is so pathetic.”

  “No! No, it’s not.” Andrea leaned forward to reassure her. “This is a brilliant idea. If you’re going to get married and you’ve put a time limit on it, you’ll need to have a way to weed out the unsuitable ones fast. Keep writing, Emily.” She nudged Jordan, who was now draining her glass. “What else?”

  “Okay, we’re getting serious now, are we? He needs to have a job. I want him to have a great sense of humour, too.” The girls nodded their agreement as Emily jotted down the notes in a neat column. “He has to want kids and be interested in travel.” She closed her eyes as she thought of her mother’s refusal to go overseas with her father over the years. “I don’t want to be taking holidays on my own.”

  “Alright, that’s a good list. Anything else?” Emily had the pen poised to add the next scintillating details of Jordan’s perfect man.

  “Umm… what else? Can he be taller than me, please?”

  “It’s your list, baby,” Andrea reminded her. “He can be anything you want. He can even have a big… house.” She giggled as her friends glared at her agai
n.

  “I also want him to treat me right. Maybe we should redo the list and put that at the top. It’s more important than all the rest.” She sighed as her eyes ran over the words.

  Is there really someone out there for me who encompasses all the items on my list?

  Andrea waved to the bartender and he delivered another round of drinks. Jordan eyed the dark liquid swirling in her new glass. She’d lost count of how much she’d had by now.

  Lucky I’m not driving home!

  The bartender was leaning forward, reading the list. He tapped the space at the bottom. “You need to add something to make this guy stand out from all the rest.”

  “What do you mean?” Emily frowned at him, daring him to diss the perfectly good list they’d created.

  “I mean, this list could describe half the men in this bar. Hey, it describes me.” He grinned and raised his hands at them as their mouths fell open. “Don’t worry; I’m taken, ladies. It’s a great example, though. I fit every single one of those criteria, and you wouldn’t necessarily want to take me home to Mummy, would you?”

  “Ha! You’d be the one regretting it if I took you home to my mother. That’s something I’ll be saving for the very end, when I know my future husband is too in love to try to escape.” Jordan shuddered as she thought of her high school formal date, who’d had to endure thirty minutes of chatter while sitting on their front couch before her mother would let them leave. It might have been ten years ago, but it made her cringe like it was yesterday. “Do you have any suggestions for the list?”

  “Nope. I think you need one item that stands out. Just my two cents.”

  He moved to the end of the bar to serve the next customer, and the girls put their heads together and discussed what other qualities the perfect man might possess. They announce the worst traits they’d experienced in a partner and tried to think of the opposite. Every awful relationship, however, boiled down to the same few categories. Different interests, not treating them right, having no ambition, or being physically incompatible.