Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  “My fiancée has a small problem.” He brushes a kiss across my forehead.

  “She does?” A grin tugs at my lips. “What is this problem you’re talking about?”

  “You worry as soon as I tell you I have a mission.” He caresses my wrinkled forehead, kissing my nose and cheeks.

  “Why do you look so gorgeous tonight?” he whispers nibbling my ear. “Hot date?”

  “I had a presentation earlier, I could only change my shoes after the class.” Lifting my leg, I show him my light blue converse. The heels are in the trunk of my car. “My hot dates are only with this hot Navy SEAL who’s leaving soon. And only when he’s not saving the world.” I slowly slide his pants and boxers off; his thick cock springs up as it’s released from the plaid fabric. Pressing my lips against his naked chest I trace a line down to his dick, lifting my gaze I lick my lips enthusiastically.

  “I want to taste you,” I beg, kissing the tip and holding it with both hands first. Opening my mouth, I take him in deep, bobbing twice before I suck the head. His legs tremble. He grasps my hair, pushing himself in deeper. My tongue swirls around his length as I release him, and give him a knowing smile. He’s at my mercy. “Why are you quiet?”

  “Worried about leaving you with graduation approaching and all the wedding preparations. I’m also praying that we grow old together.” He breathes. “These have been the best four years of my life.”

  The air in the room disappears, my lungs have trouble working. No, I can’t let him start his ‘if I don’t come back’ talk. I hate when he does this. I take him again, he has to forget about tomorrow and stay with me for the next twelve hours. It’s only us for the night.

  “Fuck, we can’t.” He stops me, his lids heavy and his breathing shallow. He takes his boots, socks, and everything off. “I need to be inside of you before we do other things, baby. I haven’t had you in a long time.”

  He bunches the skirt of my dress up, running a hand over my soaking underwear and rubbing my needy heat. “Promise to make it up to you later.”

  His hand moves away. I gasp, thrusting my hips desperately for release. Those blue eyes are promising me that I’ll have the time of my life. I take a step back, waiting for his next move. He shoots me a heated glance, his hands propped on his hips and his expression loving. He reaches for me, trying to pull me into his grasp.

  I open my mouth but snap it as I hear Papa Don’t Preach. Squeezing my eyes for a few seconds, I wait until the call goes to voicemail. It only takes a second for it to start ringing again. “Dad,” I exhale, searching for my lab coat, and fishing for my phone. “Hey, Dad.”

  “You haven’t called me, where are you?” I stare at the ceiling, praying for strength. I adore my father, but his constant need to control me drives me insane. “You have only two jobs to do, well no, three. Go to school, get good grades and call me, so I know you’re safe.”

  I take two deep breaths, winking at Michael. “Sorry, I was famished when I got home and forgot to call.”

  “It doesn’t take much to dial my number and let me know you’re safe, Aspen,” he chides me. “Your mother and I are disappointed in you. Where are you?”

  My eyes shift to the floor; he’s not going to be happy. “I’m safe, in my apartment with Michael.”

  “Why is he with you? This relationship is too codependent!”

  There he goes, insisting that we’re codependent and should see other people. My father hates the idea of me marrying so young. He doesn’t understand that Michael and I are meant for each other. We don’t need to date other people. “Well, Dad. He’s here because sometimes he has a day off and travels to Houston to spend it with me.”

  “That’s not healthy.”

  “It’s normal when two people are engaged but live in different cities.”

  “Don’t you get sassy with me, young lady.”

  “Yes, Dad.” I roll my eyes.

  “Are you planning on coming home for Christmas?”

  I meet Michael’s eyes.

  When is he coming back?

  Are we still planning on having a few days together in San Diego?

  That’s a discussion for another day. “We’ll talk about winter break later.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Going to visit my fiancé matters.”

  “We’ll see, Aspen.”

  I sigh, my eyes close for a few beats. Why is he so difficult? “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Please, do. I love you, sweetheart.”

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  “It’s as if he knows I’m close to you.” He sighs, biting the words. I bet he’s as frustrated as I am. “He hates me.”

  You’re screwing his daughter, of course, he’s not a fan. I keep that part to myself. “No. He worries about me and asks that I call him when I have a late class. Dad doesn’t hate you.” I want to beg him to stop. I’ve had enough of my father’s words. “Can we forget about him? We don’t have much time together, Michael.”

  “Marry me?” He takes my left hand pressing it against his chest.

  I pull it out of his grasp, showing him the solitare ring he gave me almost a year ago. “I believe we already went through this ritual. But we could reenact what happened after I said yes.”

  I slip off my dress, his mouth parts as his chest heaves—subject forgotten. To assure he won’t mention Dad again, I snap open the pink bra letting my boobs spill out. I grin as his eyes widen, almost falling at the sight.

  “Bed,” I order. “We’ll loosen you up in bed and then…you’ll see. Tonight is ours. I bet it’ll be a few months before we can be together again.” My heart slows with those words, why did I have to remind us that we’re going to be apart for a long time?

  “I love you, future Mrs. Reynolds.” He lifts me, gently settling me in the middle of the bed, pushing my legs open. “Still on the pill?”

  “Of course!” My father would kill me if my boyfriend knocks me up before the wedding. “I’m not ready to have your babies, yet.”

  “Wrap your legs around me.” He positions himself right at my entrance, searching for my gaze. Love is all I see, my heart swells at the sight of his loving stare.

  “I love you,” he mutters as he sinks into me. “You okay?”

  No, I don’t want you to go.

  “Perfect,” I lie, smiling at him. “Please, don’t be gentle. Not this round.”

  He pulls out and thrusts in hard. My hips match the rhythm as he plunges inside me faster, harder. He cups my left breast, flicking the nipple with his playful tongue. He continues with his ministration. Faster. Harder. Deeper. The energy between us increases, the build up inside me is too much. My body quivers as I explode from the inside out. His speed increases, thrusting three more times before he stops, his limbs shivering and his mouth yelling my name.

  “I love you with all my heart, Mike. Promise you’ll come back to me, baby.”

  He presses together his lips, closing his eyes.

  My heart speeds up, the fear etched in his features sends goosebumps all over my skin. He needs to be okay, he’ll come back.

  He lowers his head and kisses my neck. “Always. I’ll always be by your side,” he murmurs, kissing the tear that slides from the corner of my eye. “Be brave, and wait for me.”

  “Always.”

  Four months later

  What would you say if you had one last chance to say goodbye?

  Do you regret the last words you said to the love of your life?

  How do you survive after the ultimate loss?

  Staring at the maple color coffin in front of me, I wish for a do-over—a few more minutes, one last kiss. One final touch. Placing my hand on top of it, I remember our last time together, our last kiss, and our last dance. The overcast sky moves enough, letting a ray of sun come through the window to hit the solitaire diamond I wear on my middle finger. It was only a couple of months ago when he promised to return. We had plans, a wedding, a forever.

  I take the black velvet box from my
black jacket, open it and grab the gold band I picked from the jewelry store a couple of weeks back. I read the inscription one last time. You own my heart. His wedding ring, the one I was supposed to slip on his finger while we stood in front of the priest and our family, exchanging vows and promising to spend our lives together. Opening the coffin, I place it next to the urn where his mother placed his ashes.

  “How do I continue?” I clutch my hand to my mouth holding the tears at bay. “We had plans. So many of them…you left me.”

  God brought him back from his mission. A fucking drunk driver and a bunch of inept doctors killed him soon after. At that moment, my entire world collapsed. The light disappeared and the pain grasped into my heart.

  “Why Michael and not the other guy?” I hug the coffin, resting my head on top of it. Fat, big tears sear my skin as they roll down my cheeks. “Please, don’t leave me, baby. We have plans. I should’ve told you how much I love you. How proud I am of you, begged you to stay. I wanted to be selfish, ask you to choose me over your career. No matter how it happened, you died a hero.”

  I repeat our last words. I was so annoyed at him. “Mike, call me later I have a class in five minutes.”

  “I’m on my way to you, I only wanted to hear your voice one more time. I love it.” His husky voice made my body vibrate. “I love you, Aspen.”

  “You’re a silly man, Michael Reynolds. Record my voice so you can hear it when I’m not available. I love you too.” I hung up, he called, and I sent him to voicemail.

  The next day his mother called Scarlett. Michael died. My last words were selfish and stupid … If I could reach him, I would talk for hours about our love and our future. I would send him a chain of emails each one with the same sentiment. Letters with … “I would tell you that you’re the best thing that's happened to me. Beg you to stay for the night, and wait for my call. Ask you to marry me.”

  “It boils down to don’t leave me, I need you.” The grief surges with every exhale. “I’ll miss those crystal blue eyes, your wholesome laughter, and your beautiful heart.”

  The emptiness inside my heart expands. Nothingness threatening to take my soul, leaving me lifeless. “Make the pain disappear,” I sob.

  “Aspen,” Dad touches my shoulder. Wrapping an arm around me, he pulls me toward him. Gently rubbing my back, he whispers, “it’s time for the service. Come with me. This will pass.”

  Those words unhinge me. Tears burst out, and my chin trembles. Pain forms in the pit of my stomach, coming out like an uproar from my throat.

  “When will it stop hurting?” I kiss the coffin caressing it one last time.

  “In time, sweetie,” Dad responds hugging me tightly. “Time will heal your heart. I’m so sorry you lost him. He was a good man.”

  He was the best. The loss is more than my heart can take. I don’t think I’ll survive. Glancing at the coffin, I send a silent prayer. Numb me. Freeze my heart. I don’t want to feel again.

  Untitled

  Eleven Years Later

  1

  Aspen

  Wine. Gin. Tequila. Any kind of alcohol should do the trick. New plan: for the next seventy-two hours I'll sleep, binge watch movies and drink all the alcohol in the house. The ER of a hospital is like a never-ending reality show: bad acting, too much drama and there's always that one bitch who wants to rule them all. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's perfect for me. A fast-paced work environment keeps me busy and sane. Focusing on others helps me balance my emotions—or rather helps me forget about them. Today my brain and body are drained, but my soul is restless. My heart beats erratically. I can feel it, another anxiety attack. I won’t let it happen. Nothing like self-medication to snap me out of whatever’s happening.

  “Finally, you had me worried,” Brynn, my best friend and roommate, calls from the porch as I step outside my car. “It’s past midnight, young lady. Where have you been?”

  “At work?” She knows, our shifts overlapped for a few hours. “Was there an emergency of any sorts?”

  “Heath was sitting here when I came home,” she announces, her voice tired just like I am. “You had dinner reservations—at seven.”

  I rub my forehead. Did we?

  “Was he upset?” Working in the ER pays well, but the hours kill my social life.

  “What do you think, Aspen? He mumbled some shit under his breath and strode away.” She yawns. “Two years and I’m still trying to understand why you’re dating Heath.”

  “Shut up, Brooklyn Eliza Ward,” I order before the entire neighborhood learns about my boring or nonexistent social life.

  “Slapping me with my full name won’t change the truth,” she continues with her rampage. I’m pleased that she sounds annoyed. She hates being called Brooklyn, let alone when people use her full name.

  “He barely stays over, and I never heard her scream when he’s around,” Brynn says out loud to no one. “I wonder if she knows what an orgasm is?”

  “Are you drunk?” I can’t find another reason why she’s so loud. She’s your best friend, murder is a crime. I mumble twice as I read my boyfriend’s latest text.

  Heath: We had dinner reservations at Vendome, what happened? I can’t see you this weekend. It’s my turn to be with the kids. Text me so we can schedule something for next week.

  I feel like a bitch for forgetting our date. Time slipped away from me, and my brain remained fixated on work. It was between the baby I delivered and the little boy with an earring stuck inside his nose that I lost track of almost everything. This is my life. I spend countless hours in the hospital, and when I'm not there I'm at the free clinic. A few years back I discovered that by following this schedule I can function properly.

  Me: Next weekend I work. We can try to find time.

  We always do. He has his children over the weekend, and I can’t help but feel relieved that he doesn’t think we are ready for me to meet his kids. Hurray for couples with commitment issues.

  When I lift my head, I see an unruly, blonde mane running toward me. “You look like shit.” Scarlett, my other best friend, almost tackles me as she gives me a big hug. “Poor sex, huh? No worries, we’ll visit Sexy-Paradise, and I’ll get you a few toys that’ll guarantee happiness.”

  “You’re on your own, Scarlett,” Brooklyn warns her. “The last time we went there, you asked the sales associate to demonstrate how the cock ring worked—worst five minutes of my life.”

  I laugh at the memory of Brooklyn’s face turning purple. My best friends couldn’t be more different from one another, but that’s what makes them great. They balance each other, and I enjoy hanging out with both. One keeps me responsible, while the other pushes me to let loose.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be in town?” My fatigued voice reflects my actual state. After a tight hug, I release her. We make our way onto the porch in front of the house. Climbing the steps, I find there’s a small gathering going on. Candles, wine, cards, and beer. Brooklyn sits on the loveseat we have on the porch. Her black hair tied into a fancy braid—Scarlett’s crafty work. I flop my ass next to hers, and grab her glass of wine, finishing it in just one gulp. “When did you leave the hospital?”

  Brooklyn pours more wine into the glass. “Nine-ish? I dashed out of there and never looked back. You should learn to say, “no, I’m off.””

  “It’s not as easy, you should have stayed with me. I think I might hate you a little.”

  “Impossible. You love me,” Brooklyn protests.

  I do. We are sisters. Brooklyn, Scarlett and I met right before college. The three of us had been roommates from freshman year all the way through med school. Until Scarlett quit before our second year of med school and went to vet school so she can be useful in her family’s ranch. “We had a rush around ten. Accidental gunshot while a man cleaned his case—who owns a gun and doesn’t know how to handle it? A woman with a water bottle up her ass, and her boyfriend needed stitches on his brow. She has a mean left hook. So many stupid accidents
. I think I’m going to quit and go to retail.”

  “That means working at a mall, spending time inside a store, and dealing with crowds of healthy people,” Scarlett reminds me. I fake-shiver, she laughs and sits on the empty chair across from us. “How many hours did you work today?”

  I lean my head against Brooklyn’s shoulder, closing my eyes briefly. “Counting the five hours I spent at the free clinic yesterday night? About a lot.”

  “She’s fucking nuts,” Brooklyn adjusts the blanket so she can cover both of us with it.

  “Says the pot to the kettle.” I take off my clogs and retrieve my feet. “We work the same number of hours, Brynn. Now tell me, Scarlett, why are you here?”

  “I’m attending a conference and checking on Hugo.” She starts piling the deck of cards. I guess we’re not playing tonight. “Where’s our favorite pup?”

  I look around the porch for our mutt, but he’s nowhere around. “Getting lucky?”

  The three of us laugh because we have fun making up stories about him. Hugo appeared a couple of years ago on a cold December morning. We came home from the grocery store and we found the poor guy resting on the porch. Brooklyn gave him water, I fed him carrots. He continued arriving at our doorstep when he knew we’d be home. The second weekend we went to the pet store to buy supplies for him, Scarlett came to give him a checkup. He doesn’t have opposable thumbs but he is crafty and can open doors, bring slippers and cozy up in bed with us. We adopted him. No, it’s more like he adopted us. He’s independent enough to work with our schedule but loves us so much that when we are home, he’s by our side.

  “So how long will you be here, Scarlett?” Please leave soon.

  I love her, we have many things in common, including her brother. The grief of losing him created a strange effect between the two of us; we either cry for long periods remembering him or we fight. Scarlett took it upon herself to become the perfect daughter, filling Michael’s absence and committing to everything she believed Michael would’ve done if he were alive.