The Marriage Pact Mistake - Julia Keanini Page 0,1

talk about a torn ligament during dinner.

But the big push for Harry was that he loved children and hoped to be married someday. Because more than anything, that was the reason my first dates never worked out. Casual dating had become an epidemic in my mind, and I didn't want casual. That's what friendships were for. If I was dating, I wanted to have a goal in mind. And for me, that was forever. Call me crazy or call me a romantic, but I wanted it all: the big grassy lawn with a swing in the backyard, three or four kids who drove me batty all day, and a husband who would kiss me good night and all would be well. Apparently Harry wanted that too.

So maybe this could work?

Harry had asked that the partygoers leave the driveway open for me to park in, a chivalry point in his favor, so my car was as close to the house as it could possibly be. Which was excellent, considering the way my knees kept knocking together.

A walkway on my left led from where my car sat parked in the driveway, leading toward the front door of the home. I began on that path as my thoughts went back to Harry's thoughtfulness.

Harry had offered to pick me up, but one thing I'd learned over the past too many first dates was to always have a getaway. Back when I was naive to this whole dating world, I'd let a guy pick me up and take me to the movies. What could go wrong, right? Eight hours later, I knew exactly what could go wrong. He'd taken me to an eight-hour documentary on World War II. Don't get me wrong, I loved a good documentary as much as the next girl. But eight hours?! And to top it off, I'd forgotten my wallet and my date didn't believe in eating during a movie. My stomach growled just thinking about the memory. But it had taught me well. I now never showed up to a date without my own car.

I was almost at the front door when my shoe got caught on something and I lunged forward sans high heel. Miraculously, I caught myself midair and somehow landed on my barefoot instead of flat on my face. When I looked back at the black shoe, it looked to be caught in a divot on the front walk, reminding me of another first date where I'd had to take off my shoes to climb through the window of a restaurant to escape a date. His ex-girlfriend had shown up, and they’d proceeded to reenact the World War II documentary from my former botched date, right in the middle of the restaurant. I probably could have just walked out the front door, but instead I escaped to the bathroom when the crazy-eyed ex started looking toward me. I might be scrappy for my petite size, but I didn't want to test that out with a crazy, jealous ex. So the window it was. I lost a perfectly good shoe that day when it fell back into the bathroom on my way out, but it was a sacrifice that had to be made.

After going back for my present-day shoe that had needed a few tugs to be free of the walkway, I finally made it to the front door, straightening my band tee that I wore under a black blazer with blue jeans. I'd paired the ensemble with heels to give myself a casual, edgy look, yet with a grown woman vibe. I figured that was the right look for a house party.

I raised my hand to ring the doorbell but didn't have to since the door opened on its own.

"It's Josie," the woman who opened the door screamed in my face before pulling me into a hug.

I willed my heart to stop beating so fast. One exuberant hug wasn't going to ruin my night. But why was this woman so happy to see me, and why was her hug so tight? I fought for a good breath but didn't get one until she finally let me go.

"Josie?" I heard called out by male and female voices alike.

Why did it feel like everyone had been waiting for me?

"She's beautiful," the woman who was still holding onto my waist after our hug called out to whomever was behind her in the home, and I finally pulled away from her grasp. This was getting to be weird.

I had about