Happily Ever After: A Romance Collection

by Amelia Wilde

  “So, what’s the plan?” Scarlett turns left as the navigation system indicates.

  “To see Mom?”

  “I don’t want to see your mother,” she protests, continuing to our destination. “A thousand hours driving and flying to paradise to see that woman. You could’ve picked me up on your way back to the west side.”

  “What’s she bitching about?” Brynn growls. “She almost got us killed.”

  “We’re heading to New York after visiting Mom,” I remind her. “It’s only for a few days. Think about the sun, the beach, and the hot guys.”

  “Your Mom hates me. All mothers hate me; even my own mother detests me.”

  “Mom doesn’t hate you. She just thinks you’re a bad influence.”

  “I’m the bad influence, bitch.” Brynn grins, frowning at the sign and the gates.

  “You’re worse than I was in college, Aspen,” Scarlett protests. “Does she know that?”

  “No. I don’t make it a thing to tell my mother that I’m up to no good.” I pull out the code Austin gave me. “Seven-two-three-one.”

  “Why is she living here?” Brynn takes off her seatbelt and leans closer to the front seats. “Active senior living?”

  “Are we staying with you?” Scarlett frowns following the signs and the GPS.

  “No. Just drop me in front of the door.” I grab my purse. “I’ll text you or I’ll get a Lyft when I’m done.”

  38

  Aspen

  The townhome isn’t unique. It’s nothing as luxurious as I imagined for the Florida Keys. All the houses look the same, different earth tones with dark trims. Mom’s is a light tan with an olive-green trim. There’re a couple of pots with petunias outside the green door. I knock twice, balancing myself on my heels as I wait for her to receive me.

  She opens the front door and steps out to the porch. Her dark, curly hair is now auburn with chestnut highlights. It goes lovely with her olive skin tone. There’s a warmth to her that I haven’t seen in a long time. Her amber eyes beam and the smile on her lips is so big I take a step back. Who is this woman?

  Her hands reach for my shoulders, pulling me into a tight embrace. “It’s so good to have you here, Aspen.”

  My arms go around her, my head leans on her shoulder. “It’s good to be here.” The friction and pain between us dissipate as we continue holding each other. She’s not innocent by all means. Her attitude was the beginning of my father’s behavior. They were each other’s victims.

  Breaking the embrace, she steps aside to let me inside her cozy place. It’s tiny, a narrow entryway with a credenza and a large oval mirror. “It’s not much, but plenty for…to live here. Come on in. Let me give you a tour.”

  She pulls me toward the steps. The mocha hardwood floor ends and a similar dark color carpet begins. The space holds a large leather couch, a recliner, and television. The coffee tables are decorated with frames. I walk to check them out; they are pictures of Austin and me when we were children. My eyes mist over remembering the good times we had as a family. The four of us.

  “Did you love him?” I pick up a framed picture of the four of us in Aspen, Colorado. I was a toddler. Dad carries me, holding Austin’s hand and kisses Mom on the cheek.

  “Yes. I loved him from the first time I met him. It wasn’t infatuation as my mother said. It was real love. He was kind, generous, loving.”

  “What happened?”

  “He’d go back to her…we’d break up. She wouldn’t take him back and I would. The story itself repeated until she married.” She hugs herself, looking at the many pictures. “I met a guy. He was decent but didn’t make my heart flip the way your father did. He had money, my parents liked him…I chose your dad over him.”

  “Austin?”

  She covers her mouth. “He’s your father’s. I wasn’t sure what to do. Henry—that’s the name of the other man—he offered to be a good father to my child.”

  “You knew who the father was?” I bite back a snarl. It’s over. It’s done, and nothing I say to her will change the past. Dad is gone and as much as everyone hates him, I can’t. I am mad at him and upset that I can’t say anything to him. He’s gone. The words I want to say to him will forever stay inside my heart. Somehow, I’m going to push them out before I become bitter.

  “All along. I’m not proud of what I did to your father. He tried to be a good husband. My family didn’t believe he could. He started changing with me. Then, that woman became a widow. I feared he’d look for her. I pushed him to her. I should have left him.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  She laughs, holding herself tight. “She would’ve won. He was mine, and I wouldn’t let her have him. Such a stupid reason.” She covers her eyes with one hand shaking her head. “We had an unhealthy relationship. Everything we did was wrong. I should have let him go. In the end, I hated him until I forgave him.”

  “You look better.” I attest to her radiance. “More like the mother I remember when growing up.”

  “It’s a bit of therapy, tai-chi, and forgiveness. Focusing on the good, forgetting the bad.”

  I rub the back of my neck staring at all the pictures. Focusing on those good times.

  “How are things with Anderson?”

  “We’re on some kind of break.” I twist my lips, thinking about him. The few minutes we were together on the ranch, we both orbited toward each other. “A lot is going on inside my head. I have to work on myself first.” Telling her about the mission and my fear doesn’t make sense. Not to me. Instead, I hand her over the letter Dad left me.

  Her eyes scroll through it slowly. When she meets my gaze again, hers are shining with unshed tears. “How did your father die?”

  I take a step back. She never asked about him. It’s been years. Why now?

  “He died in a lot of physical and emotional pain. He had so many regrets. There wasn’t an ounce of peace until I told him to leave and that I loved him.” I feel a sob forming in the back of my throat. I stop it, trying to control myself but I can’t. Crying I continue, “I promised him that I wouldn’t hate him. After reading the letter it is so hard to forgive him. He caused so much damage to so many people.”

  Mom holds me against her chest, the same way she did when I was younger and fell to the ground or some mean child had bullied me. She didn’t avoid me as much as I want to think. Maybe I believed she was mad at me because her voice is so powerful, but she was loving.

  “Sometimes, we are so blinded by hatred that we don’t think of the consequences or look at who we are hurting.”

  “He said he loved you.” I sniffle.

  “If we had communicated with each other from the beginning. If we had been honest with one another. It became a sick competition. We lost. He’s gone. I hope he forgives me for what I did to him. As for you and Austin, please, excuse everything that I did. I used you as my peons so many times. Not once did I think of what I was doing.”

  “What do I do?” I take the letter and put it back into the envelope.

  “Forgive him. He adored you, I can attest to that. If he had to choose one title, that’d be Dad.”

  “The money?” She asks and continues not waiting for my answer. “It’s yours, for you to do what you think is best. He’s right. You have a kind heart.” She combs my hair with her hand. “You’re the way he used to be when I met him—idealist, seeking justice, saving lives. Follow your heart, and help those in need.”

  “How about us, Mom?” I feel like a four-year-old girl seeking guidance from her mother who used to know everything. She still does, doesn’t she?

  “I want us to have that relationship.” She kisses my forehead and releases my hold. “This is me, searching for a second chance in life at fifty-seven. There’s that saying, ‘it’s never too late.’ I trust you’ll give me an opportunity to be a part of yours.”

  Mom gives me a tight squeeze, drying my tears with her hand. “Are you hungry? We can prepare some lunch, and you can tell me about your pl
ans. Austin mentioned something about a road trip.”

  “How are things with you and Aussie?”

  “He forbade me to create an online profile for him. I think if he tries to date—”

  “Mom, he’s gay. You have to stop fixing him up with women.”

  “I was going to say, guys. He’s not getting any younger, you know?”

  My mother will never change that mentality. I laugh instead of grinding my teeth or snapping back at her for wanting us to be married and have children.

  “When you have kids, are you coming to visit me with them?”

  I laugh, wiping my face. I guess her new attitude about life didn’t erase her personality and her obsession for us to have children. We chat for a couple of hours. As I’m about to call the cab, the front door opens. My heart flutters as I spot Walter. His tall, lean frame standing in the small foyer gifting me that smile I love so much.

  “How’s my girl?”

  I feel three years old again and launch myself into his arms. It’s been so long since the last time we saw each other, since Dad’s funeral.

  “I’m doing well,” I scrunch my nose inhaling the scent of spices and homecooked food. “Where were you?”

  “At the restaurant…” He huffs.

  “You didn’t tell her, did you?” he says, kissing the top of my head. “Addy, we are not repeating this pattern.”

  “We got busy talking about other things. I meant to tell her, Walt.”

  “Tell me what?” I frown looking at the two of them. Why is he here and not in Boston? “What’s going on Mom? Are you sick?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Remember I mentioned a restaurant?” I narrow my gaze, waiting for more. “Well, I opened it with Walter.”

  Walter clears his throat, tapping his loafer against the floor.

  “We’ve been dating for the past year. That’s the news,” her voice cracks. “I—”

  Turning my body slightly, I look at him, staring at those mud gray eyes of his. “What are your intentions with my mother?”

  “You don’t want to know.” He winks at me. “I love her. Does that count?”

  I chew the information, looking at them both. Such an interesting turn of events, I wouldn’t have guessed. But I’m happy for them. Taking a few breaths, I wonder how many decisions you make as an adult without thinking of the consequences. How many times do we sabotage our happiness because we are scared, or we want to show someone that we are much better?

  Like I did for years, blocking everyone around me. For a moment, I think of how many times I pushed Anderson away. How hard I tried to keep myself away from everyone. I was afraid of desire and emotions. Forcing myself to forget how great it is to fall in love until Anderson walked into my life. His soul accepting the darkness within mine, sharing his light and bounding us through a succession of struggles. We surrender to the peace of the sound that our heartbeats produce when they are together, living in a blissful haven.

  Maybe Mom is as lucky as I am and after all the afflictions she lived with Dad, she finally found peace and let herself find a good man who loves her.

  “Yes, loves matters. Just don’t hurt each other,” I order them pointing at the two. “Having to choose between the people you love is hurtful.”

  “The house in Maine got an offer,” Walter changes the subject. “I emailed you the papers to sell New York. Are you sure you want to do it? I can lend you the money, kid.”

  Biting my lip, I turn to look at Mom who shakes her head. “Use the money, Aspen. He would want you to do so.”

  “Please, don’t sell.”

  I explain myself. Walter remains quiet until I finish everything I have to say. He offers his help for the applications and any legal matters we might need for the practice. His firm is licensed to work all over the country. Even when he prefers to be in the kitchen helping Mom, he continues taking clients and doing what he loves best—defending the innocent.

  Around midnight, he drives me to my hotel room. I agree to have dinner with them at their restaurant tomorrow with my friends, and to hang out one more time before leaving town. My heart feels more whole as I enter the hotel lobby. The darkness disappears as the light coming into my life gleams.

  39

  Aspen

  We found a better way to travel thanks to the suggestion of my snobbish grandfather. I hadn’t seen the shrew in a long time, but he said with disdain during dinner that a trip like ours would be better enjoyed on a plane. A private charter would accept our dog in the main cabin. He joked about it, thinking we had no money. The account my father left said differently. In a way, it was an eye opener on how my dad felt among my mother’s family. He wasn’t worthy of her. He wasn’t enough to be with her and his children aren’t either.

  Walter glared at them, squeezing my hand. I gathered he isn’t a fan of Mom’s family either. Mom and I promised to understand each other and be more open with our emotions. Call often, not daily, but we will try to keep in touch.

  After the visit with mom, Brynn, Scarlett and I took a few days off to enjoy the beach. Boarding a charter to New York, we stayed in Manhattan for five days before taking the train to Boston where we rented a truck. From there we drove south to Connecticut, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington DC. Scarlett demanded we camp, be one with Mother Nature. Brynn threatened her with creating severe bodily harm if she mentioned the word camping in her presence.

  We flew to the West Coast. We started in San Diego, went to Disneyland and drove up to I-5, stopping in every major city and little town to take selfies of the three of us. As we arrived home, Hugo ran away, not giving us a glance. He enjoyed playing fetch at the beach—any beach we were able to take him. I think he hated not being able to bolt to other places without our supervision.

  Once we settled, I finally walk outside rolling our cooler filled with snacks and drinks. I’m tired after this long vacation. “Everything okay?”

  Scarlett rolls her eyes setting her phone down. “My father thinks a month away is not taking my job seriously.”

  “You work as hard as he does,” Brynn protests.

  “Your farm hands report daily, you're up at the freaking-crack-of-dawn checking that everything is functioning properly.” I give her a wine cooler. “Have they mentioned anything about…you know?”

  “Nope, we have three new horses.” She sips from the bottle, placing it on the table and taking the deck of cards. “They haven’t reported any unusual activity or … if your boyfriend blew my house up, he rebuilt it the same day.”

  “You want us to go to the farm with you?” Brynn suggest,s I nod in agreement. We have to sign the lease contract and start construction on our new offices, but Scarlett comes first.

  “Nah.” Another text comes, she reads it, and her face turns a crimson red. “Fuck him,” Scarlett declares. “Two more days with you and then I’ll fly in a private jet home.”

  “By all means, I’ll pay for your ticket.” I laugh knowing she’s joking about the private jet. I will pay for her ticket, though—first class.

  Then, I remember Michael’s letter. “What if you move up here?”

  “To do what exactly?”

  “Open your own practice.” Brynn smiles at me, satisfied with my offer. More than satisfied. “We can be roommates again.”

  “Are we looking for a new house?” Brynn asks. We’d both like to live close to where we work, the commute to Seattle is draining.

  “Yeah, our lease expires in a couple of months.” Then I look at Scarlett reinforcing what Brynn said, “We can live together again.”

  “I don’t know,” Scarlett says, stopping our planning. “Dad needs me.”

  “No. He has plenty of people working for him. You need to step back and think about your future.” Brynn, the voice of reason takes the lead. “What you really want to do in life? She’s moving on, you can move on.”

  Damn. If I had the letter with me, I could’ve shown her that Michael wants her out of the house.

&n
bsp; “Mike didn’t like you living there,” I whisper waiting for the backlash.

  “Yeah, I read the letter.” She bites her lip. “When I went upstairs for my things. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry but … I was scared. Your boyfriend isn’t friendly, what if he was going to kill us?”

  Her shoulders slump, her eye concentrate on the cooler she holds. “I wanted to know what his last wishes were.” Reaching out to her, I squeeze her hand. She lifts her gaze smiling at me. “Can you please not name your children Michael? I want that name for mine.”

  “It's yours, as long as you move to Seattle.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.” She looks around.

  Scarlett wiggles her eyebrows. “Have you heard anything from your man?”

  I check my phone. Still no messages from him. “He’s on a mission.”

  “It’s been almost a month, is he okay?” Brynn had to say it out loud.

  Four weeks and three days since the last time I saw him. I shrug, giving them an I don’t know, but the wait is killing me. “We can drive around town.” I brush away the uncertainty and fear. “I’d love to visit the tattoo parlor. We can contact Kev or Austin.”

  “Yes. Part of scouting the area, searching for a house.” Brynn agrees her dark eyes bright and I’m suspicious about this sudden burst of energy.

  Mason Bradley invited Brynn and me to his home for lunch. We brought Scarlett along because the three amigas can’t just leave one behind—not again. He said it was his turn to be in charge of the motley crew. We didn't understand until nine children, none older than eight, sat at the table eating their chicken nuggets, carrots, and fruit. They chatted and exchanged food as some liked carrots more than nuggets and others preferred not to eat bananas. Charming, polite and noisy, all of them finished and asked if they could go out and play.

  “Are all of them yours?” Scarlett panics.

  Ainsley, his wife, laughs at her question. “No. Only Grace and Seth. Nathan, our baby, is asleep.” She shows us her phone, on the screen is the video of a crib and a sleeping baby. “He’s at my parents with the other babies. The rest are my brother’s children.”