The Marriage Pact Mistake - Julia Keanini

Chapter One

I hated first dates. And blind first dates? Well, those were the worst. The awkward texts leading up to the first meeting that was bound to be uncomfortable, the small talk that no one was actually interested in, and then the uncomfortable final goodbye. It was all terrible.

And yet here I sat in my car, staring up at a brightly lit home, about to embark on another blind date. I was a bit more optimistic about this one, though, because I'd been set up by one of my best friends, Whit. She knew me better than most, so this wouldn't be as horrific as normal, right?

The guy I was supposed to be meeting at the house party he'd invited me to seemed nice. He was polite over text, and we'd even had a phone call that wasn't all that terrible. I counted that as a win.

As I looked into the review mirror before making my way into the big, wild landscape known as the world of dating, I fluffed my shoulder-length, dark blonde hair, which I'd curled for the occasion. I didn't often curl my hair since it liked to be straight, so the amount of product I had to use for curls to last was excessive. But I thought I'd give it a go for this date.

I'd been told by too many of my friends that this was why I hated dating so much: I didn’t expend enough effort on my dates, so of course they always came up short. I guess not all of my friends said that. Those who really knew me, including Whit, knew exactly why all of my first dates didn't work out.

I was in love with my best friend. But he and I were never going to happen—maybe that was why Whit was finally jumping on the set-Josie-up-with-any-eligible-guy bandwagon—so I kept going on first dates, just hoping. I couldn't stay in love with Easton forever.

My curls seemed a little lackluster, so I tried running my hand through them the way the girl on the YouTube tutorial taught. Big mistake. After my hand came away, there was almost no curl left, and I decided I was done looking in the mirror. My current reflection was as good as it was gonna get.

My hand hesitated on the handle of my car door. Why was I doing this? Why did I continue to subject myself to first dates time and time again, only to be disappointed? I'd only been in one real relationship since college, when I'd first met Easton. Harry, the boyfriend, was a financial analyst and Easton's opposite in every way. I'd hoped that would be the key to our happiness. That, and the fact that saying yes to a second date with him didn’t make me want to vomit.

My resolve to finally make this date different swelled within my chest. I could do this. I didn't have to be in love with Easton for the rest of my life. I could make it work with ... and there was the one slight problem with this present first date.

His name was Harry as well. Weird, but not a deal breaker. Whit had been reluctant to give me his name. But according to Whit, he was perfect for me. He was almost six-foot-tall, which shouldn't be important to me considering I was only five foot one, or as my friends liked to tease, five foot nothing (they gave no regard to the very important half inch that I proudly rounded up). However, I had always dreamed of ending up with a tall guy. Not because Easton was six-foot-two—he didn't need to round up the way I did—but because if my children had any chance of not being vertically challenged, they needed to get all of their height from their father. Yes, I thought about how tall our children would be before the first date. Maybe this was why it never worked out?

I shook my head. I couldn't think like that. I finally pulled open the handle to my four-door, gray sedan and stepped out into the crisp, spring, evening air. Spring in Tennessee couldn't be beat, and I was almost feeling, dare I say it, optimistic?

Harry was a podiatrist. Which was kind of like my job as an athletic trainer. Whit knew I loved to talk shop with my dates, probably another reason why many of them never asked for a second date. So I couldn't end up with a guy who was too squeamish to