by Pratt, Lulu
Phoebe’s mother, Jill, leaned across Henry to take another look at me.
“Phoebe should be on in a minute,” she said, beaming with pride.
“I can’t wait,” I replied honestly. “She’s been so excited.”
Her dad tilted forward from the other side of Jill so that he could get in on the conversation.
“Whatcha two talking about?” he inquired, his fluffy white hair battered about by the wind.
“Nothing,” Jill replied, giving him a loving kiss on the cheek. “Now you just go back to trying not to cry.”
He harrumphed good-naturedly and sat back in his seat. It was well-timed — the piano began to play, and all heads turned down the aisle.
And in filed the graduates, pristine and archaic in the folds of their black gowns, mortarboards only slightly soggy from the morning’s rain showers. The sound of their shoes clacking against cobblestones echoed across the courtyard, nearly drowning out the chords of “Pomp and Circumstance.”
Henry stood up on his seat to get a better view.
“Henry, sit down,” I whispered to him. “Other people want to see too.”
A woman behind us shook her head. “That’s okay, sir, don’t worry.”
I smiled back at her, and said to Henry, “Okay, just for a few seconds.”
He grinned, revealing the gaps where his baby teeth had begun to fall out. Kids grow up so fast. But then again, I guess adults do too. Phoebe had entered Rough and Ready a relative kid, and we’d left as partners.
Within a week of moving to Bridgeport, we were absolutely serious about one another, and if everybody knew, so be it.
A year had flown by in the blink of an eye. I hear that can occur when you’re absolutely happy and satisfied with life. Of course, I hadn’t experienced it before Phoebe, so I’m just going off word of mouth.
After getting Phoebe and Jo-Beth to San Diego, Henry and I returned to Rough and Ready to settle matters. I let my landlady know that I was leaving town, packed as much as I could into a trailer and the back of the truck, and what couldn’t fit, I gave to Miss Keller and Staten. I sold Cici to Big Bob, minus what I owed him, who was not surprised to see me go after what happened, and drove Henry and myself across the country to Bridgeport. It took a week and a half as we took Route 66 for part of the way and stopped in Texas so we could see my parents. My relationship with them had taken a nosedive after Meghan, but after what had happened in Rough and Ready, I was determined that Henry know that he came from good people. It was tense, but it was the first step on the road to reconnecting.
My former in-laws no longer lived in Texas, but my mother was in contact with them and let me know that Meghan was still in custody, but because she broke parole, reoffended within days of her release, et cetera, she was looking at a long sentence. Fortunately, Henry had little to no memory of his mother’s visit and I was keen to move on from the drama.
In Bridgeport, I’d moved into a little apartment with Henry, a simple two-bedroom not far from campus. It had taken me some time to get it as colorful as my home in Rough and Ready had been, but the investment was worth it. Now, the space burst with shades and textures. I’d decorated it in warmth and love, and in no time, it’d felt like home. As for my PTSD, I’d got some counselling that had helped a lot and Phoebe was more than willing to listen.
Phoebe lived in the dorms still, but only as a technicality — she stayed over almost every other night, helping me tuck Henry into bed before we watched a movie or cooked dinner at home. We both agreed that we should probably just live together round the clock, but she wasn’t allowed by her lease to move off campus full time. I thought this was a stupid rule, but then, I’m biased.
Henry had gone through his first winter, and taken to it like a duck to water. He’d dove into snowbanks, licked icicles — the whole nine yards. I suspected part of him just liked the town because he was under the impression that Bridgeport was the only place that snow happened, but I wasn’t ready to disabuse him of that notion. Plus, he liked any excuse to drink more hot chocolate.
Speaking of Henry, now that we were out of the town of Rough and Ready, I was finally able to enroll him in a school. It was an enormous relief. I’d been plagued with guilt, thinking that I was failing him and his education, but now he was in what the locals called a “prestigious” school. He loved it, too — he came home every day yammering about all the stuff he’d learned that morning, the friends he’d made, the action cards he’d traded.
My son was blossoming before my eyes, and if I think about it any longer, I’ll get weepy so let’s chug along.
I’d found good work at a nearby auto-repair shop. It paid a good piece more than Big Bob’s had, plus it had the advantage of not having Big Bob as an owner. The gal who ran the shop was friendly and smart, and most importantly, professional. No butt-grabbing there! She said I should think about opening my own place, but my mind was starting to go in a different direction.
I was beginning to wonder what it would be like to enroll in school for the first time. I hadn’t had a chance because of getting married and having a kid, but the notion had always appealed. I wasn’t sure, but I was considering maybe something in mechanical engineering. In some ways, it wasn’t that different from Phoebe’s degree — it’s all about seeing what makes something tick.
Phoebe, meanwhile, was somewhere in the crowd of young adults clomping past me, their gowns buffeting in the wind. I craned my neck, hoping to catch sight of her.
Henry tugged on my sleeve and pointed. “There!”
Yes, right there, in the middle of the crowd, walking next to Jo-Beth, was Phoebe. She rose above the other girls in the crowd, tall as she was, her shoulders back and head high. I’m so proud of you, I thought.
And then, as if by some telepathic magic, Phoebe turned, brown hair flying over her shoulder. Through the throng of classmates, her eye somehow managed to catch mine. She winked and my heart melted. How’d I get so fucking lucky?
She disappeared back into the crowd, which was making its way slowly onto the stage. Jill squealed with delight while her dad did his best to keep from tearing up.
“Oh Carter!” Jill cried as Phoebe lined up alongside the stage. “Doesn’t she look beautiful?”
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry,” I said. “I mean, yes, Jill.”
“Much better.”
Like mother, like daughter.
Over the last twelve months, I’d not only grown impossibly close with Phoebe, but with her family as well. We saw each other every weekend, and frequently went to science museums and playgrounds with Henry. They’d taken Henry and me in as if we were their own. Or, rather, as if Phoebe and I were already married. Perhaps they were just planning for things to come?
It was, however, still a little soon for that. Phoebe was just about to enter a new phase of her life, and I knew that twelve months probably wasn’t enough time to be considering marriage however much I wanted it to be. We’d talked it over, mind you, but had both agreed that for practicality alone, we should hold off for at least another six months. No matter — I already had the ring picked out and purchased.
Meanwhile, I did have a different variety of gift for her, sitting heavy in my inner breast pocket. I patted it with my palm, making sure it was still there, a protective shield over my heart, just like Phoebe.
The head of the school was beginning to get passed diplomas to her by some assistant on her righthand side. She lowered a mic to her height and started to read out names.
She rolled through the As, Bs, Cs, and Ds, finally hitting the Es. It was Jo-Beth’s and Phoebe’s turns. They would graduate one after another. As I’d learned early on, that had been one of the original bonding points of their friendship — they always got partnered for things based on their surnames.
“Jo-Beth Eckelmann.”
Jo-Beth strode forward, waved to her family in the audience, and happily accepted the diploma. I could see Phoebe standing, calm and collected, not far behin
d her, beaming with excitement.
“Phoebe Eckhart.”
Phoebe surged to life and moved forward, readily accepting the diploma from her hand and whooping with excitement.
I stood up and cheered, lifting Henry onto my shoulders and bouncing him up and down with glee. Phoebe spotted us and rolled her eyes but beamed all the same.
At long last, the ceremony ended and the graduates spilled off the stage to go find their families. Phoebe, even in her high heels, raced up to Henry and her parents.
She ran first into her mom’s and dad’s arms, eyes teary as she thanked them for the wonderful education.
Next, she scooped Henry up into a hug and planted a lipstick kiss on his cheek, which he quickly smeared with a giggle.
Finally, Phoebe got to me.
“How’d I do?” she asked.
“You were phenomenal.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank God, I thought I might’ve looked a little possessed up there. I was just so excited.”
I pulled her into a hug and whispered, “You did great.”
She hugged me back with both arms and we held each other for a long moment before I broke away.
“I’ve got something for you,” I said, staring into her sparkling eyes.
Said eyes widened. “I told you, no gifts!”
I shrugged. “I’m a no-good scamp. You’ll just have to make an exception.”
With that, I pulled the velvet box out of my suit pocket.
Phoebe’s mouth dropped, and her parents, who were standing nearby, went red.
She barely managed to say, “But we agreed, at least a year—”
“Just open it,” I insisted.
She took the box, hands shaking.
On the third try, she was able to snap it open.
Her brow creased. “Oh, it’s uh… pretty. Is it a… necklace?”
I took the key out of the box and held it up so that the sun caught its brass edge.
“No, Phoebe. Though I suppose I could make you a necklace out of it if you liked. But it is a key to our new apartment.”
Her face went slack. The only word she could get out was, “What?!”
“I’ve rented a small two-bedroom for us in Brooklyn. You can be close to your new job, working with your dad. I’m going be closer to the auto repair shop, and maybe if that goes okay, I’ll go back to college. Henry’s going to be transferring to a new school especially for gifted students.”
Phoebe was absolutely speechless, her mouth hanging open as though her jaw had dislocated.
“You set up everything?” she said, stunned.
“Yup,” I confirmed. “All you have to do is say yes. So? Are you in, Phoebe?”
Tears burst forth from her eyes and she nodded readily.
“God, are you kidding? Of course I am. This is — it’s — it’s… this is the best thing. Yes, yes, I’m so totally in.”
I smiled and took her hand in mine, the key locked in our grasp.
“Then let’s do this,” I laughed.
I wrapped my hands around her waist, pulled her close in to me, and kissed Phoebe as though my life depended on it.
***
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Please keep reading for more.
Take Me
She thinks I’m an arrogant jerk but my Irish charm will work its magic.
When I first saw Poppy I was instantly hard.
I accidentally walked in on her changing, her big beautiful body clad in nothing but a white bra and panties.
As the world’s top lingerie photographer I’m used to being surrounded by half naked models but none of them make my body react the way hers does.
Turns out she’s never been touched which makes me want her even more.
She says she hates me, despises me even but the magazine is forcing us to work closely together in a tropical island paradise.
This will be fun. I like a challenge.
*** A steamy STANDALONE contemporary romance with a smoking hot hero. No cliffhanger, no cheating and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.***
Chapter 1
POPPY
“HEY, LOVELIES! How’s your day? Is it wonderful? I hope you’re all breathing in the sunshine and breathing out love.”
I stared into the lens of my video camera and gave it my big, signature wink. My sister, sitting on a rolling chair by my side, snorted quietly at the little theatrics, though she’d seen it many times before. I yanked the leg of her chair, pulling her into frame.
“Okay, everyone,” I told the camera. “Ya’ll know my big sis, April. Say hi, April!”
She smiled politely and waved to our imaginary audience. “Hi, folks.”
I spread out the synthetic hair brushes and cruelty-free make-up in front of me, letting my eyes wander over the various bits and bobs, formulating a vision in my head. April glanced at the mountain of tools and products, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
“You’re not gonna go crazy, right?” she asked, a hopeful note in her voice.
I shook my head. “Me? Never.” To the camera, I continued, “If you clicked this video, you know by now that I’m doing an all-natural makeover for April, just in time for Easter. She’s the coolest pastor you’ll ever meet, and I wanna make sure she looks her best for our little town’s congregation. Anything you wanna add, April?”
She shrugged. Ever since we were little, she’d let me experiment with her face, using it as a testing board for all my make-up adventures. At the time, I’d thought that’s what big sisters were supposed to do, just sit there and let you mess around with their eyebrows, but now that it’s my profession, I know she was actually being incredibly gracious and generous with her time, especially since she hates make-up.
“Uh, nothing to add,” she replied. “My wife loves it when I come home with a full face, so she’ll be mighty happy about this video.”
I smiled, and nodded eagerly. “She’s the best. And hey, if she ever wants to do a vlog with me, I’d love to make her over.”
I’d offered this a few times now, but I think Cindy, April’s wife, liked to watch from a distance. She was a bit camera shy, whereas me and my whole blood family were outgoing in the extreme.
“So,” I said to April, letting my fingers dance over an eyeshadow palette. “I’m thinking something summery, simple, not too outlandish. The kinda face you’d wear to meet your partner’s parents for the first time. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect. Don’t wanna scare the old church ladies with a con-ture,” she said, mispronouncing the word. “They’d just about shit their britches.”
“Language, April,” I scolded, my cheeks pinkening. “I’ll have to bleep that out later.”
She rolled her big blue eyes, the only part of her face that even vaguely resembled my own, and pushed back the cuffs of her white linen shirt. “How is it that I, a Southern pastor, am less uptight than you?”
“That’s not true–”
“‘Course it is,” she replied. “You won’t even have sex before–”
“Okay, that’s definitely getting cut,” I muttered, turning off my camera and pivoting to face April. I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back in my chair. Because of my plump arms and tiny hands, my parents always said that when I kicked a fit like this, I looked like one of those baby dolls, all blonde ringlets and petulance.
“Sorry, sorry,” April apologized. “I’m not trying to be an ass – a meany, Poppy, but seriously…”
“Seriously what?” I huffed.
“You know what.” Her sharp brown brows – so wasted on someone in the ministry – shot up.
I knew what, but didn’t care to have the conversation again. We’d been round and round on it in circles for years, well before April became a pastor and was still just in seminary. It first started w
hen I was, what, maybe sixteen? And she was twenty-four, and I thought she was just ragging on me in the way older girls do, but now that I was twenty-three, I was beginning to wonder if maybe she was serious.
“I’m serious,” April said, reading my thoughts. Though we were eight years apart, we had a twin-like telepathy. Didn’t help that my face was a wide-open book. “You’re getting bound up in all these old rules that mean nothing.”
“They mean something to me,” I sighed, falling back on my old line.
“Poppy, it’s all well and good to be a Christian, but don’t you let that stop you from living a big ol’ life. Some of what gets preached… it’s outdated. You know that.”
April gave me a meaningful look, and I knew what she was getting at. In churches around the country, my gay sister, who was a powerful, godly pastor, wouldn’t be allowed to preach. Our town was a bit more progressive, being only about fifty miles from Atlanta, but still – even a decade back, they would’ve shunned someone like April.
“You know I think the church’s stance on homosexuality is wrong,” I told her, truly meaning it.
“I know you do, I know I do,” she said. “But if you can agree that Christianity got that wrong, can’t we have gotten other stuff wrong, too? Like, for instance, the whole sex-before-marriage thing.”
I flopped back in my chair, shielding her face from my eyes with the back of my hand, though I was careful not to smudge my glittery eyeliner.
She pushed her case. “Come on, Poppy, hear me out. You’re twenty-three, and you haven’t – I feel like you’ve stopped yourself from doing so many things. And you deserve to live the fullest life, honey, the absolute fullest.”
“I haven’t stopped myself from doing anything.”
“What about Jason?” she asked. “Or Tommy, or Dan, or–”
“Okay, okay,” I responded. “I get the point.”
“You’ve let so many men walk out of your life, not because you didn’t want to have sex with them, but because you didn’t think you were allowed to.”