From the bookmarks on the browser, I open the website we’ve used as our search guide and select the link for girl’s names. The most popular ones pop up in a list on the screen. Charlotte, Sophia, Amelia, Emma.
“I heard Celia Werner got engaged.”
I glance down at my wife. “How do you always ruin the most beautiful moments with her name?” I know why she thought of her—Celia had been a name on the screen.
“Shut up. I haven’t mentioned her since before we got married.” She’s right; she hasn’t. Celia hasn’t been a part of our lives in any way, shape or form since the last time I’d seen her at the loft. She’d kept her end of the bargain, ceasing all contact with me and my family. And I’d kept my end—Warren Werner is still the head of Werner Media.
For a time after our engagement, Celia’s name came up in counseling. She’d been a contributing source of much of our conflict, and it was inevitable that she’d be discussed. But eventually all of us agreed—Alayna, Lucy and I—that talking about Celia further kept her around when she didn’t need to be. We didn’t talk about her after that, and, eventually, I didn’t think about her either. Well, not often.
“Anyway,” Alayna says now. “Your mother told me.”
“Of course she did.” She told me as well. She always did love to stir the pot, even sober. Though Sophia has long lost her love for Celia—rarely mentioning her anymore, thank God—she hasn’t exactly warmed to Alayna. She hasn’t warmed to anyone, for that matter, except for possibly my father. The two seem to find redemption in each other, even when no one else can see it. Perhaps Alayna and I are like them in the eyes of others.
“Thoughts?” She’s not testing me for an emotional reaction. There are no secrets between us anymore. Particularly not about my old partner in crime.
“Regarding Celia? Good for her.” It’s as much attention as I will give to the woman on the birthday of my first child. It doesn’t mean I don’t wonder about her on occasion, or that I didn’t pause when I heard her news. Part of me hopes her romance is genuine. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
But it’s entirely possible the engagement is simply a scam or her parents’ arrangement. She’s likely still cold and unfeeling. Maybe even unhappy and miserable.
I won’t lie. There’s a small part of me that wishes for the latter. Okay, a big part of me.
“Yeah, good for her.” Alayna’s tone seems indifferent, and I sense the bitterness she once carried for Celia has been replaced with other things. Things that matter. The prestige of running New York’s Hippest Club of the year, according to the Village Voice. Two anniversaries celebrated with a husband who loves her more than could ever be expressed. A newborn baby who coos and clicks in her sleep.
Alayna stares down again at her pink-hatted bundle. I think she could look at her baby forever. I could look at her looking at her baby forever. Jesus, I’m getting mushy in my old age.
I turn back to the tablet and click for advanced search. I enter a meaning, curious if any names will pop up. A list of over fifty does. I scan through them, my breath catching on one. I click the name to read the definition further.
“Alayna,” I say, still not believing my eyes, “did you know your name means precious?”
She’s taken aback. “Seriously?”
“Precious; sun ray. See?” I show her the tablet where the definition is clear as day.
She blinks at the screen. “Did you know that?”
“I had no idea.” I’m not sure if she realizes how often I’ve referred to her as the light in my darkness. Her name is completely fitting for her. For the woman that would be mine.
“It was fated,” Alayna says with the sweetest grin. “I was meant to be yours. You knew what I was about before I did.”
I can’t stand it. She’s too beautiful. Too perfect. I look back at the tablet. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“No, I’m not.”
And, I think, maybe she’s right. Maybe we were fated or destined to find each other. Maybe everything that happened to me and Celia and Alayna was all meant to happen, each painful part playing out in order to lead us to our personal happy ending.
Or maybe it’s just coincidence. And does it really matter? It’s a happy ending either way.
Our baby stirs again, this time with more determination. “She’s waking up.” I watch her tilt her head toward Alayna, her little mouth open and searching.
“Hey, she’s rooting,” Alayna exclaims.
“It looks to me like she’s trying to suck your breast.” I tickle my baby’s cheek with my finger. “I get it, little girl. I like sucking her breasts too.”
Alayna laughs. “That’s called rooting, you dork.”
“It’s not called rooting when I do it.”
“No, that’s called awesome,” she says, looking up at me with that devilish grin of hers, the one that can make me instantly hard if I’m not careful.
Again, I have to look away. “Stop it. You’re going to make me horny, and the nurse said six days.”
“Six weeks.”
I sigh. “I suppose I heard wrong.”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
I return my focus to the screen in front of me and scan further down the list. “What do you think about the name Mina?”
“Mina? Mina Louise.” She repeats it, testing it out. “I like it. What does it mean?”
“Precious. In Sanskrit.” I gaze down at my daughter—my daughter!—and watch her fight to open her eyes, her little lids squeezing tight and relaxing before they pop open. “Look at her. What do you think? Does it fit?”
“She’s certainly precious.”
“Like her mother.”
I toss the iPad to the end of the bed and wrap my arms around my wife and child. For someone who once felt very little, I am now overwhelmed with emotions. My heart is full to the brim, overflowing with love. So much love.
Sometimes it’s hard to even remember that I ever was another man. That I ever was anything but this one—a man who will fill a camera with newborn baby pictures and tear up as his precious daughter opens her eyes. A man who found sunshine in his dark existence when he deserved it least.
Alayna Withers changed everything for me. I can easily divide my life into two parts—before her and after. The person I was in that time long ago and the person I became when my eyes first found hers.
Though that isn’t entirely accurate. Before her, I never really lived. So there is only after.
I begin and end with her. It’s as simple and as profound as that. Our worlds have entwined and wrapped around each other’s completely. They’ve shaped into something new and fixed and whole. There is no longer her story or mine, but now and always, only ours.
THE END
COMING SOON
Her story started long before she started working at The Sky Launch...
Screw fairytales.
The only reward Gwen Anders got from her rough childhood was a thick skin and hard heart. She’s content with her daily grind managing a top NYC nightclub—Eighty-Eighth Floor. So hers isn’t a happily ever after. She doesn’t believe in those anyway.
Then she meets J.C.
The rich, smooth talking playboy is the sexiest thing that Gwen has ever encountered, but she’s not interested in a night-in-shining latex. But when a family tragedy pushes her to the brink, it’s J.C. who’s there to teach her a new method of survival, one based on following primal urges and desires. His no-strings-attached lessons require her to abandon her constant need for control. Her carefully built walls are obliterated.
Gwen discovers there’s a beautiful world outside her prison. Freedom is exhilarating—and terrifying. When she starts to feel something for J.C., she fears for her heart. Especially as she realizes that he has secrets of his own. And his secrets don’t want to set him free.
This series can be read alone or with the Fixed Trilogy.
FREE ME
Available December 9, 2014
Preorder
now at Amazon and iBooks.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When I was in high school, our theater teacher wouldn’t block the curtain call until we were “ready.” In other words, the rest of the show had to be at its best. Sometimes we didn’t get our curtain call until opening night. I’ve always felt that same way about acknowledgements—I’m not allowed to write them until the rest of the book is finished. So I feel a bit like a naughty girl right now as I fly to Philly for a signing, and I begin writing these when I still have three chapters of the book left to write. But I’m going to see friends and fans—people that I’ve come to cherish so dearly, people that I wouldn’t have met if it hadn’t been for Alayna and Hudson and my writing world. My heart is full, and I think now is completely the appropriate time to try to capture a sliver of the gratitude pent up inside.
Always, though, the question is where to begin?
Tom, my sweet optimist prime, I owe you for so much more than inspiration. I love you, and I’m lucky to be your princess. Keep serving me coffee and breakfast in bed for a long, long, time. Okay?
My girls, though it seems I’m absorbed in my own world most of the time, I hope you realize that I love you more than life. I put pieces of you in all I do. Though it’s happening too fast, I can’t wait to see the women you become.
Mom, thank you for always pushing me to follow my dreams. I wouldn’t be the person who could accomplish all that I have if you hadn’t been as supportive as you have been. Now you just have to move to Colorado.
Bethany Hagen, there are so many words to describe the things you are to me. You’re my editor, sure, and critique partner and book fairy, but above all that, you’re my very good friend. I dream of the day we’ll run away together and build neighboring blanket forts. Someplace gray of course, with lots of mood and ambiance. (P.S. I hope this experience didn’t require too much Scotch.)
Melanie Harlow, I feel like we’ve grown up together from baby WrAHMs to NAturals to agency sisters—we’ve had quite a run, haven’t we? Though you no longer need me to internal up your manuscripts, I hope you still send them all to me before everyone else. I’m proud to be able to brag about you first. Let’s try to hook up more often and introvert next to each other, shall we?
Kayti McGee, you’re my other half. Honestly, it’s not fair that you get all the charm and wit while I’m doomed to barely crack a smile. I might even crack more than usual when I’m with you. You’re a constant cheerleader and never tire of my complaints (well, you pretend to never tire.) I think you may be as saintly as my husband. There’s no other person I’d partner with. Thank you for letting me boss you around.
Tamara Mataya, your sexy voice and quick wit aren’t your only amazing qualities, but they are certainly two of my favorite. You keep me laughing even when I’m not in the mood. Which is all the time. You’re one of my fav peeps to be miserable with. Get over that Canadian thing of yours, and we’ll be fab friends forever. All right, maybe you can stay Canadian. We’ll see how it pans out.
Gennifer Albin, if you ever need a backup career (in between designing the world’s best covers, illegitimate agenting, and writing amazeball books,) then you should definitely look into life coaching. Your “hard words” are never as tough to hear as you build them up to be, but they’re always the reality check that needs to happen. You think you’re not a cheerleader; I disagree. You may be sparse with your pep and compliments, but when you do deliver, I take it to heart because I know you mean it. I’ve known you now through ebb and flow, and you’re just as cool when you’re ebbing as when you’re flowing. That’s not something that can be said of everyone. I hope I can learn to be as graceful as you through my own career.
Amy McAvoy, my favorite of all twunts, your role in my life has evolved through so many phases. You were that first blogger who said, “Oh, definitely this one” when I asked for a review of my little story. As an early and passionate supporter, I know my book sales have thrived partly because of you. Your opinions are strong, like you are, and they’re also so often exactly right. But aside for what you do for my writing, I’m so glad to have you as a friend. You sincerely decorate my life. I’m honored to know you.
Patricia Mint, this book only exists because of you. If you hadn’t drowned me with your constant questions into Hudson’s motives, I’d have never realized that there was still story left to be told. Remember when this was going to be a novella? Now it’s my longest and my favorite book I’ve written. I owe you drinks. And spanks. Because I’m dying to get my hands on your mint ass. Holla!
Lisa Otto, I know you’ve gotten too busy for me, and you want me to “fire” you, but I can’t do it. Even when you’ve only got the barest minimum of words for me, they’re always just what the story needs. You can’t get rid of me that easily.
Jackie Felger, you’ve trucked along through all my projects, and that is really admirable, considering how all over the place I’ve been. I’m so grateful for your feedback and suggestions. Thank you so much for being such a faithful CP.
Tristina Wright, you were the first person to read any of Hudson and Alayna’s story. You’ve seen them (and me) at their worst, and yet you still saw story to cheer on. You may have not been that involved with the latest installment of their journey, but what you’ve contributed to my growth as a writer shows in every new paragraph I write. Thank you for the guidance when I needed it most. I hope I can return the favor someday.
Shanyn Day, when I was in high school, my friend had a job working as a “keeper.” She was basically a personal assistant, but her boss said she was so much more than that—she kept her on track, kept her together, kept her sane. Though I introduce you as my publicist and my assistant, you are definitely my keeper. Thank you so much for keeping me. I’d be lost without you.
K.P. Simmons, you save me in so many ways. It’s weird to think we have a business relationship because it doesn’t feel like that at all. You do good business though! InkSlinger PR is by far the best. But you also do good friendship. I raise my full cup to you.
Joe LaRue—
There’s no one else who renews
my creative, spirit, mind and drive
like you do. #thanksinhaiku
Rebecca Friedman, our relationship is new, but isn’t that the best part? Can’t wait to see where we go together. I totally feel the “sizzle.”
Bob Diforio, we’ve come a long way in these last two years. I’m very appreciative of all the work you’ve done for me. Thank you.
The rest of my team: Anthony Coletti, Sara Norris and Danielle Nelson for keeping more money in my wallet and guiding me through the icky parts of financial success; Stacy Shabalin at Amazon, Ian and Chris at iBooks, and Lauren and Carina at CreateSpace for your time and commitment to helping my books shine in your stores; Caitlin Greer for your quick turnarounds and beautiful formatting; and Jolinda Bivins for making my books come alive in the most beautiful keepsakes. I’m grateful every day for all the time and energy people put toward making my life easier. I’m very, very blessed.
Holly Atkinson and Eileen Rothschild, my “other” editors. I love how much we “click.” Thank you for understanding me and teaching me how to make my words sparklier.
Jenna Tyler and Angela McLain, thank you for everything you are. Your friendships are invaluable (as are your proofreading skills, Jenna).
This writing community is full of the most amazing people. So many authors have become my best friends, first online and then, little by little, I’ve gotten to meet you. I’m certain I will miss a bunch of you, but I have to try to specifically mention a few of you who have made a particularly significant impact on me: Lauren Blakely, Kyla Linde, Melody Grace, M. Pierce, Pepper Winters, Kristy Bromberg, Emma Hart, Kristen Proby; the women of NAturals, FYW, WrAHM, Babes of the Scribe, and that other group that shall not be named (you know who you are.) There’s a lot of kick ass in this world of mine, and you guys represent the majority of it.
I used to try to name all the bloggers who
have supported my books and my career, but the list has grown too long to even attempt recognizing you all. Please know that I see you. I see what you do, and I know the hours and time that you put into your work. I’m so very grateful for your pimping and supporting. I wouldn’t be where I am without you all.
And I definitely wouldn’t be anywhere without the readers—I wish I could send out a personal thank you to each of you every time you choose to pick up my book or recommend me to a friend. I wouldn’t have a job without you. I’m so, so lucky to be able to do what I do, and even luckier that so many of you have been touched by my words and my characters. You overwhelm me daily, even if I don’t always share it. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Above all, I give my thanks to God. You raise me up. Please keep teaching me how to do the same for you.
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Also by Laurelin Paige:
Fixed on You (Fixed #1) – Amazon, Nook, iBooks
Hudson Page 40