Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Maybe Tonight: A Life in Progress
    Maybe Tonight: A Life in Progress
    Maybe Tonight: A Life in Progress
    Ebook115 pages1 hour

    Maybe Tonight: A Life in Progress

    By Kim Golden

    4/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Mads Rasmussen has had enough: of being a sperm donor, of feeling disconnected, of being alone.
    Then someone walks into his life in a most unexpected way...
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateMar 23, 2014
    ISBN9789198174618
    Maybe Tonight: A Life in Progress
    Author

    Kim Golden

    Kim Golden was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. In 1995, she left the US and moved to Sweden for love with a capital L. When she isn't writing fiction, she writes copy about perfume and lipstick for a Swedish cosmetics firm.  She writes stories for people who know that love comes in every color.

    Read more from Kim Golden

    Related to Maybe Tonight

    Related ebooks

    Contemporary Women's For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      Now That I’ve Arrived

      Dec 30, 2020

      Now That I’ve Arrived
      5 min read

    • Article

      How Reality Dating Shows Stoke Racial Tensions

      Jun 23, 2022

      Lauren and Cameron, Love Is Blind’s breakout stars, have succeeded not because of the show but in spite of it.

      12 min read

    • Article

      A Gentle STIRRING

      Mar 13, 2024

      A Gentle STIRRING
      6 min read

    • Article

      Gabriel & Holly

      Feb 8, 2021

      The first day was the most daunting. It helped that she’d arrived last night to settle herself in the cottage annexe before first contact this morning. Still, nerves attacked her as she stood before the door of the imposing but charming ivy-covered 1

      6 min read

    • Article

      Mrs Macarthur’s Secret Diary

      Jun 17, 2020

      Mrs Macarthur’s Secret Diary
      7 min read

    • Article

      Mrs Macarthur’s Secret Diary

      Jun 17, 2020

      Mrs Macarthur’s Secret Diary
      7 min read

    • Article

      21,915

      Jul 7, 2022

      21,915
      2 min read

    • Article

      21,915

      Jul 7, 2022

      21,915
      2 min read

    • Article

      The DATING GAME

      Aug 3, 2022

      The DATING GAME
      8 min read

    • Article

      The DATING GAME

      Apr 2, 2024

      The DATING GAME
      8 min read

    • Article

      The Leather Coat

      Apr 4, 2024

      The Leather Coat
      6 min read

    • Article

      Just Passing

      Aug 17, 2020

      Zoe cracks the curtain in the bay window and watches as he bounces from one foot to another in the cold. Tap, tap, tap, he goes at the letterbox. But she shouldn’t even let him in. He’s trouble. He throws his arms out and shouts through the glass: “S

      5 min read

    • Article

      Haunted

      Sep 27, 2023

      Haunted
      6 min read

    • Article

      We Don't Talk About That Here

      Nov 4, 2021

      We Don't Talk About That Here
      4 min read

    • Article

      Family Matters

      May 15, 2020

      Family Matters
      5 min read

    • Article

      Uncontrollable, Irrelevant

      Dec 6, 2022

      My sister called me the other day. She wanted to let me know that I had once more been merciless and cruel in my relations with our parents. “They say there’s a lot of anger in you,” she said. “It makes them mad. It hurts their feelings. They think y

      14 min read

    • Article

      If The Hat Fits

      Aug 18, 2020

      If The Hat Fits
      7 min read

    • Article

      Tomorrows

      Mar 15, 2022

      The night, as most nights, was like a dream. At ten, once I’d fed the dog the last scraps off the stove. Once I’d cursed the cat for scratching up my mama’s antique furniture, then welcomed him back into my arms. Once I’d slicked my hair into a ponyt

      26 min read

    • Article

      A Little About Why

      Jun 1, 2023

      A Little About Why
      15 min read

    • Article

      A Perfect Match

      Apr 5, 2021

      It’s my sister’s fault that I’m standing outside a hair salon on the Saturday of my anniversary, too scared to go in. I’m not sure I was this nervous on my actual wedding day. Androulla had been bugging me for months that my look needed “updating” an

      7 min read

    • Article

      With this RING

      Jul 21, 2021

      With this RING
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Wrong Shampoo

      Apr 10, 2022

      Brandy scoured the rows of bubble gum bright shampoo bottles. How much time had passed already? She looked to the front of the store but couldn’t see the checkout lines. She had only been to Jeff’s apartment once so far and didn’t remember what brand

      16 min read

    • Article

      Soul On Sale

      Aug 10, 2022

      I was waiting for the call at the telephone booth. I’d been waiting for fourteen or seventeen minutes and finally, I decided to leave. It was pointless. I only had a 20-dollar bill on me and no coins for the slot. Hard rain was coming, some type of s

      9 min read

    • Article

      All My Tomorrows

      May 10, 2022

      It was Misha’s first day minding the shop, and already she’d broken the fifth rule. Always lock the door immediately. When you had the most valuable merchandise in the universe, you had to take the utmost precautions. She hadn’t meant to disobey. It

      13 min read

    • Article

      With this RING

      Aug 8, 2023

      With this RING
      6 min read

    • Article

      The Space Between Us

      Oct 9, 2019

      The Space Between Us
      8 min read

    • Article

      From Dawn ’til Dusk

      May 21, 2020

      From Dawn ’til Dusk
      5 min read

    • Article

      The Man I Should Have Married

      Dec 29, 2019

      The Man I Should Have Married
      11 min read

    • Article

      Reflections On Mr. Twain

      Sep 10, 2022

      “Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest.” —Mark Twain The work on my car had taken longer than expected, and Sandy had been giving me a ride to the office for the last couple of days. I had always considered Sandy a dece

      18 min read

    • Article

      ABATH For All SEASONS

      Jul 4, 2019

      ABATH For All SEASONS
      7 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Maybe Tonight

    4/5

    8 ratings2 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

    • 5/5
      I really enjoyed 'Maybe Baby,' so this short story from Mads POV was very interesting to read. I like the way she did not elaborate too much on things we already knew, however there is a new insight into certain situations we saw with Laney in the other story. I recommend it definitely if you enjoyed 'Maybe Baby.'
    • 3/5
      More like 3.5 stars. I really liked getting Mads' perspective of everything, although I would liked to see some areas fleshed out more. I took a star off because you will have to have read the previous story or else you will be way to confused. Also, points off for typos - mainly missing words. However, it is a well written story and I do recommend it, but only if you've already read Maybe, Baby

    Book preview

    Maybe Tonight - Kim Golden

    TOMORROW

    1

    HOUSE CALL

    I can’t do this anymore…

    Mads gripped her hips and thrust into her one last time before he came. Eyes squeezed shut, he tried to blot out the mewing sound she made. She’d asked him once if he thought it was sexy. It wasn’t. The last thing he wanted was to think about anything sexy. This was work. This wasn’t fucking because it felt good or because he loved her or anything personal. Sophie was a client. That was it. He had to tell himself that as he pulled out of her and retreated to the bathroom. She’d rolled over on her back and hoisted her legs in the air.

    I think it worked this time, she called out to him. I’m sure it did.

    Great. He turned on the faucet of her tiny sink and rinsed off as best he could. He would shower at his workshop. He didn’t want to stay much longer than he had to. He rubbed his chin and stared at his reflection in the mottled mirror. His reddish-blond hair hung looked shaggier than he remembered. Three days worth of stubble covered his chin. And the dark circles under his eyes weren’t going to make him very popular at that week’s mingle.

    Maybe I’m getting too old for this. He splashed warm water on his face, hoping it would wash away how sordid he felt. Just get dressed, say goodbye, tell them you hope it worked and get the fuck out of here.

    He looked around for a guest towel without any luck. At least there was a roll of paper towels on edge of the tub. As soon as he’d dried off as best he could, he went back into the bedroom and started to dress.

    Sophie was still lying naked on the bed, her legs in the air. Her right hand rested on her concave stomach. Are you staying for lunch? she asked.

    No, I’ve got to get back to the workshop. I’ve got some prospective clients coming in. A lie, but it was better than outstaying his welcome, no matter how many times Sophie assured him her husband was okay with the arrangement.

    But I told Sander you were having lunch with us…

    Sorry, I can’t. He’d stayed the previous time at Sophie’s insistence. Sander had been nice enough–he’d cooked lunch then too–but his chill glare spoke volumes. He was going along with this because Sophie was desperate, they both were, to have a baby–but they couldn’t afford the clinic’s fee. It was the only reason Mads was even…making house calls. If the clinic ever found out, he’d be in a world of trouble.

    He threw on his clothes, said a quick goodbye to Sophie, who called out, I’ll keep you posted!, and rushed past the kitchen to the hallway where his shoes were waiting by the door. He’d nearly finished tying his laces when Sander emerged from the kitchen. Leaving already?

    Yeah…some clients, I’m making cabinets for their kitchen renovation.

    Sander’s nostrils flared then relaxed. So not another charity case then.

    You and Sophie are the only people I’ve ever helped like this.

    Right… Sander crossed his arms as he leaned against the doorframe. His lips thinned to a tight, white line. Listen…I know you mean well. And that this is…just work for you. But if she tells you it didn’t work this time, don’t let her talk you into anymore of…this. It’s…I mean, you’re fucking my wife, for Chrissake.

    Mads couldn’t look him in the eye. His anger, his frustration came through loud and clear.

    I’ll say no.

    Good. Because I really don’t want to see you again. I don’t think I can take this anymore.

    Mads nodded and then let himself out. He didn’t think as he pounded down the spiral curve of the marble stairs that led to the apartment building’s main door.

    He just wanted to get away.

    2

    BABY GIRL

    Mads? I thought it was you!

    He smiled tightly and nodded a greeting at the stroller-pushing woman approaching him on Absalomsgade. What was her name? Veronica? Anoushka? He couldn’t remember it exactly, but it wasn’t a typical Danish name.

    This must be serendipity, she continued and kissed him on both cheeks. I was just telling a friend about…you and Copenhagen Cryo.

    It’s nice to see you again–how long has it been? Two years?

    Something like that, she agreed. So… how are you? You look well.

    So do you. He wasn’t lying or turning on the charm. She looked content. The last time he saw her, she was so pale and painfully thin she reminded him of a fragile bird. Now there was a healthy flush of color to her cheeks. He glanced at the expensive-looking stroller and understood why. It had worked.

    This is your dau- she caught herself and laughed nervously. I’m not really sure of what that the protocol is here.

    The little girl in the stroller was fast asleep, her thumb planted firmly in her tiny mouth. Mads knelt down and swept a burnished curl from her forehead. His chest tightened. For a second, he thought he might cry. There was no mistaking he’d played a role in creating her. She looked exactly like all the baby pictures his grandmother had saved. Her wavy hair was the same coppery blond as his, her round cheeks bloomed, she even had the same smattering of freckle across the bridge of her nose. How many times had he thought about this moment? When he might finally see one of the children he’d helped bring into the world? And she was beautiful, a precious porcelain doll of a little girl.

    What’s her name? He rose to his full height again and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets.

    We called her Lida, after my grandmother.

    She’s gorgeous.

    She is. My husband and I—we’re just so grateful you were able to help us.

    Mads glanced at the sleeping child again. His daughter. Could he even caller her that? He wasn’t playing a role in raising her. He’d probably never see her again.

    I’m glad everything worked out, he said. He pulled his hands from his pockets and tapped his watch. I’m sorry. I’ve got to rush—an appointment.

    Of course, of course. She touched his arm. I’m just so grateful to you. When I saw you, I had to tell you. You’ve given my husband and me such a beautiful gift. She is what we wanted for so many years.

    I was just doing my job. He nodded but couldn’t meet her eyes. It was…nice to see you. I’m sorry. I’ve got to go.

    He walked away before she could thank him again. He didn’t try to get one last look at his daughter. He didn’t think he could take it.

    His daughter. That sleeping child was a part of him. How many of the other couples he’d helped had been successful? The clinic never told him, and he never asked. He assumed the success rates must have been pretty high. When he signed his donor contract, Ida told him there would be status reports from time to time, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever received one. He cashed his monthly checks, splurged on a car or treated his grandmother to a summer holiday in Portugal, paid the rent on his workspace. He took the money. And he tried to forget the hustle that was part of being a donor.

    Sometimes when he thought back to the afternoon Ida propositioned him, he wondered why he’d said yes. Sure, money was tight then. He’d just been laid off from the design firm where he’d worked since moving back to Copenhagen and the demand for furniture makers was never steady. Everything depended on the whims of interior stylists scouting for interesting pieces to use in magazine, film sets and the buyers for home interiors shops.

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1