The first inkling I had that something was wrong with my marriage was the night Mike fell asleep during sex. It had, admittedly, been a tiring day; the girls were cranky and Mike and I had bickered that morning over a car he wanted to buy. And I’m sure it wasn’t the healthiest strategy, but having sex usually made Mike forget his frustration with me and brought us back to normal. Like a reboot—a sexboot, if you will.

On that particular night, I hadn’t dressed provocatively or sent knowing glances. I didn’t need to. Mike was a guy—he was always up for sex. I’d been feeling the tension between us since morning, like a cable being stretched to the point of snapping. So, I’d done what I always did.

“You feel like, you know?”

Mike was flipping through channels, looking for God knows what. Kate and Eileen were long in bed and it was going on 10:30. I’d have to be up in eight hours, so it was now or never.

He paused on some reality show and looked up at me from his place in his recliner. “Do you?”

Not really. I’m tired, and an entire gaggle of second graders awaits me at the crack of dawn. But it sure would be nice to stop tip-toeing around you. I mean, honestly, just because I thought a third car was overkill?

Personally, I thought he was being a bit of a whiney baby—not that I could ever tell him that. It would take a year of blowjobs to come back from that one.

I smiled and nodded, and up we went to our bedroom. I won’t bore you with the details, but not only did Mike fall asleep during actual intercourse, but he did it while in the missionary position (a.k.a. the usual). Which meant I had a one-hundred-eighty-pound dead weight crushing my boobs and lungs while it snored loudly in my ear.

I lay there, momentarily uncomprehending. Surely, this was a joke, right? But it wasn’t. As I attempted to rouse him with a vigorous shake, I noted with not a small amount of irony that, while the rest of him slept, he was still aroused inside me. It was of significant concern that only this one part of my husband of nine years seemed to like me anymore.

Three weeks later, Mike asked for a divorce.

* * *

Linc: Pick you up at 7:00?

Me: Sounds great. Where are we going?

Linc: It’s a surprise. Just make sure you wear jeans.

That was odd. And perhaps a bit cryptic? But I didn’t want to be a pain, so I agreed.

Me: See you then!

I’d managed to engage in human conversation and not turn Linc off during our drink at the bar the other night. In fact, we chatted quite easily until his friends came to retrieve him. I was introduced to Jack and Beth, and they apologized for taking Linc away, but they were his ride home and their babysitter was waiting.

The fact he hung out with friends who had kids boded well, I thought. I hadn’t yet told him I was a mom—or a divorcée—but we’d only just met. There was time. Linc asked for my number and called a couple days later to ask me out.

Jill was beyond thrilled. And beyond drunk by the end of the evening. It seemed Brandon thought by giving my sister free alcohol she just might go home with him. Jill was a flirt, but not a cheat. Brandon received a chaste kiss on the cheek for his trouble, and I left an enormous tip to soften the blow.

I made her promise to stay away when Linc came to pick me up for our date. My last experience showed I didn’t perform well with an audience. But I was going out with a virtual stranger, and probably unwisely allowing him to pick me up at my home. Certain safety measures had to be taken, so I’d already given Jill Linc’s phone number, and I planned to take a picture of his license plate and text it to her before getting in his car. I figured that, along with text updates throughout the evening, would be good enough.

I couldn’t stop long enough to think about how I’d gotten here—how I’d gone from sleeping in the same bed as my husband year after year to being in a situation that required me to mark and bag evidence before accompanying my date to dinner. Or wherever we were going. If I let myself think about it I might cry. And I was done crying.

At ten till seven, I sat on my front steps in jeans and a sleeveless knitted top with a ruffled vee. Dark wood railings led up the steps to our wide front porch and painted black door. I took in the space around me, as if seeing it for the first time. Why had I never noticed how stark this entry to our home looked? Imagining it from a stranger’s viewpoint, I’d think the Addams Family might live here. We didn’t even have so much as a cushioned bench to sit on. Huh.

My musings were interrupted by a feminine voice calling out my name. I turned back to the street to see Valley Archer, neighbor and knockout, walking my way. I rose to my feet and met her in my driveway. Her sleek dark hair rested over her shoulders and her bombshell figure was encased in a tight black dress—which wouldn’t have been at all disheartening to me if I wasn’t ninety-nine percent sure she’d just come from the grocery store, not a hot date.

“Hey, Jenna. I haven’t seen you around much.”

I nodded. “Hi, Valley. The girls are with Mike for a few weeks so I’ve been laying low.” And hitting on the neighbor.

“Ooh, alone time. Nice.” She returned my smile with a slightly naughty glint in her eyes.

I realized my mistake too late. I’d just let Valley know that I was sitting around with practically nothing to do with my time. And it wasn’t like I was going to share my plans with everyone I knew. Having Jill nosing her way into my every move was bad enough. I inwardly cringed as the words I’d anticipated left my neighbor’s lips.

“So, I wanted to ask if you were free this Saturday to watch Aidan and Aubrey? Feel free to say no, but I’d really appreciate it.” She brought her hands together as if in prayer. “David and I are hosting some of his co-workers and I don’t want to be worrying about the kids. You know what I mean?”

We both knew I wasn’t going to turn her down. And her kids were lovely, so it wasn’t as if it were a hardship. I forced my smile to stay put. “Sure. No problem.”

She gave me an impulsive hug. “Thanks! You’re the best!”

It seemed I’d gained a reputation in the neighborhood as a boring hausfrau with no life. That wasn’t really the rep I was going for. All the more reason to shake things up.

But my thoughts were disrupted by the deafening sound of motorcycle pipes coming from down the street and getting louder by the second. Valley and I both turned to see a huge black motorcycle making its way toward us—no—making its way toward me.

It was Linc, and he was picking me up for our date on a badass black motorcycle right in front of my glamorous, perfect neighbor. The only thing that could have made this better was if the entire neighborhood were outside to witness it.

It seemed my bad boy had arrived.