Love Series (Complete Series)

by Natasha Madison

  I finally get up when I see that the house is now dark. Walking into Daisy’s room, I find her fast asleep. When I turn to walk out, Elliot stands in the doorway of the spare room where he sleeps. “Sam,” he says quietly, but I just walk past him. “Will you—”

  I turn around to face him. “I get it,” I start. “I get that, with this whole thing, the only thing you and your family care about are the girls. And Eric.”

  “It’s not that.” He shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Do you know that I waited for one of you to come after me? I waited, holding my breath, for one of you to come and tell me that he was wrong. That no matter what I did, it wouldn’t have changed what Eric did because Eric was the one who made the mistake. But I sat there on my bed, crying, and the only one who came to me was Lizzie. The only family I have, who I love, who I count as my own, never even came or fought for me.”

  “Sam.” He takes a step forward, and I step back.

  “It’s fine.” I turn. “In the end, I guess the only family I truly have are my girls.”

  I don’t bother listening to him talk. I close the door, silently, quietly, hoping not to wake Lizzie. I lie down and watch her, silently vowing never to let her down.

  Samantha

  Samantha

  “Come on, girls!” I yell up the stairs at them. It’s been two days since our dinner with my in-laws. One day since Elliot came over, and twelve hours since he last sent me a text checking on me. It’s also been two days since I’ve spoken to any of them.

  My heart is just broken; not only did I lose a husband, but I feel like I lost my family also. I shake my head, blinking away the tears. Not fucking today. “It’s girls’ weekend, so the faster you get on the bus, the faster the day is over,” I say with a smile.

  Lizzie comes down first, then Daisy. “I want red on my nails,” she says, skipping to get her bag. “Or purple.”

  Lizzie and I both laugh at her. I walk them to the bus and then go back home to my morning routine. The phone rings at noon, and when I pick it up, I see it’s Judy.

  “Hello,” I say softly, my heart pounding. It feels like I just got into a fight with my best friend, and she is calling me afterward. I don’t know how to act.

  “Hey,” she says just as softly. “Adrian just wanted to remind you about the lawyer. You need to be there at two. I can get the kids from the bus if you are running late.”

  “Okay, I’ll text you if I’m running late,” I tell her, and I wait. We both wait. The silence lingers; I’m waiting to hear her say that he was wrong. I’m waiting for her to say anything, but she doesn’t.

  “Okay. Let me know,” she says as she disconnects. I look down at the phone. She didn’t even ask how I was doing or how the kids were doing. Nothing. I sit on the chair in the kitchen looking at my phone, waiting for it to ring again. I’m waiting for her to call me back and say sorry I didn’t ask how you were doing, to ask about the kids, to ask if I’m okay, to ask if I need anything. Anything. Instead, I get nothing.

  I put my phone down and look out the window, lost in my thoughts, lost in my memories. The tears just stream down my face when I think that for the last twelve years, this family has taken me in with open arms and tears while I walked down the altar to Eric.

  Stood by me when I walked across that stage to accept my diploma, cheering the loudest.

  Watched me pregnant with two babies, rubbing my belly as they leaned in and spoke to the girls in the hopes to feel the baby kicking. Judy held my hand when I miscarried and cried, telling me everything happens for a reason. She held me when Eric died, and I tripped over his shoe. Now, now it’s like she doesn’t know me. My chest hurts, the pain ripping through me, the pain almost unbearable as I place my head on the table and sob. This time, no one is here to hold me; this time, no one is here telling me it’s going to be okay. There is no one.

  Peeling myself out of the chair, I walk upstairs and step in the shower, but no amount of cover up can cover the blackness under my eyes or their puffiness. I slide into my black jeans that had fit me tight at one point but now are a little baggy. I pair it with a white V-neck sweater and grab my black jacket off the hanger. I slide into my black heels and throw my hair in a bun on the top of my head.

  Grabbing my purse, I make my way over to the lawyer’s office. Stepping in, I smile at the receptionist and give her my name.

  “Mr. Feldman is ready for you.” She escorts me down the plush beige carpeted hallway to the corner office.

  Knocking, she gestures for me to enter. The man sitting behind the desk rises to his feet and walks around the desk, his salt and pepper hair matching his mustache.

  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Schneider.” He extends his hand, and I shake it, just nodding at him. “Please have a seat.” He points at the two chairs facing his desk. I look at the family pictures on the bookshelf behind his desk—the one of him and his wife, the one of him with his children, the one with him and who look like his grandchildren. My eyes go back to his as he puts on his glasses. “I’m so sorry about your loss. Eric was a great man.” I’m almost tempted to roll my eyes or pfft out. Please fucking spare me; if he was such a great man, then why the fuck did he feel the need to live a double life? Why?

  I have a box full of questions, but the only one that keeps repeating is why? Why the fuck would you do it? Why would you? And then it was always how could you do this to me? To the girls?

  “So,” he starts, “Eric’s will is pretty standard. Everything is left to you, of course.” He turns the papers, explaining his stocks and everything that I am inheriting. “He did have in here that his father is the one in charge of the money to be issued out on behalf of the girls.”

  I look at him. “I don’t understand?” I ask him.

  “It means that the girls’ money is in a trust, and the executor is Mr. Schneider. So if you would want something for them, it would have to be approved by him.”

  “I’m sorry, that is wrong because we both had the same will.” I think back to when we signed the will. We were both in charge of everything if the other one left. “If you can check mine, you will see that it isn’t like this.”

  “He amended his copy six months ago,” he says, and my heart beats so hard and fast, I’m pretty sure that he can hear it. The sound must be filling the silence of the room as he looks at me. “It’s really just a precaution to make sure the girls’ needs are met, and that the money is allocated.”

  “Unbelievable,” I say under my breath. “Is there anything in there about his other wife?” I ask him with a sneer. “You know, just as a precaution?”

  He must be shocked that I would say anything. “I was brought up to speed with the other wife, and I can say that all requests have been denied. Her account is now frozen, and we will be requesting the funds be transferred to you.”

  “What?” I whisper. “You’re taking her money?”

  “Well”—he closes the folder—“it’s half Eric’s so…”

  “No,” I snap. “I don’t want it. Cancel whatever paper you submitted.”

  “Well, it seems that Mr. Schneider is in charge of that.” I smile as he says that, and I’m pretty sure I look like I’m losing my mind.

  “I don’t give a shit,” I say, getting up. “I don’t want anything that he had with that woman, not one fucking penny. So you can either listen to me, the executor of his will, or I can get another lawyer.” My hands are opening and closing. “I think her finding out that her husband wasn’t her husband and that everything they had was a lie is enough, don’t you think?”

  He just leans back in his chair as he looks at me, and I continue, “I mean, she filed for his insurance papers and those got denied, right?”

  “They got denied because the case was fraudulent since he used his middle name and the information he used to apply wasn’t truthful,” he tells me, crossing his hands on his desk. “Mrs. Schneider, it is my duty to make sure you are taken care of, you and your children
.”

  “Stop the paperwork, Mr. Feldman,” I tell him, and he just sighs. “It’s enough, don’t you think?”

  “Fine. I will pull the complaint, but it may be too late.” He takes off his glasses.

  “Well, if it’s too late, I want to know how much you got, and we are going to reimburse her. To the penny.”

  “Very well,” he says. “I will have to let Adrian know about this.”

  I shake my head. “Do what you have to, but what we discussed here isn’t to be discussed with him.” I don’t wait for him to say anything. Instead, I walk out the room, down the hall, to the elevator, and make it to my car before I yell out in frustration. I pitch my purse to the side, grabbing the keys.

  “Fucking asshole,” I say out loud, slapping my hand on the console. “Great fucking plan, Eric. Fuck not only me but the other woman by leaving your father to go after her. Fucking awesome.” I shake my head, turning on the car and pulling out of the parking lot. I stop at Wal-Mart on the way home, grabbing chips, soda, and nail polish—everything I need for the night. I smile at the clerk who wishes me a good day.

  I look at my phone, seeing it’s almost time for the kids to be home. I send Judy a message.

  On my way home. I’ll get the girls.

  She just answers back one word

  Okay.

  That is it; only one fucking word. I stare at the phone, waiting to see the bubble with three dots reappear. I wait and wait and get nothing.

  I put the bags into the trunk when my phone rings. Seeing a weird number, I contemplate whether to answer it.

  “Hello?” I say, holding the phone with my shoulder while I close the trunk and push the cart back.

  “Samantha.” The voice makes me stop walking in the middle of the parking lot. A man honks at me, telling me to move. “Hello?” he says again. His voice smooth, his voice soft, his voice somewhat comforting.

  “Blake?” I ask, but I will never forget his voice. From the first moment he explained who he was to the time he sat in my kitchen with his cousin, his voice will always be familiar.

  “Yeah,” he breathes out. “Listen, I know that the last thing you need is for me to call you, but”—I turn and walk back to the car as I listen to him struggle to find the words—“I just wanted to check and see if you were okay.”

  “What?” I whisper; this man who doesn’t even know me, who knows nothing about me, who has met me a total of one time, not counting the wake, is asking if I’m okay.

  “I’ve been thinking about you since we left you, and I know that Crystal can come off strong and I just,” he starts saying and then stops. “So, I was just making sure you were okay.”

  “I don’t think I will ever be okay,” I say, getting in the car and making my way home. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.

  “For what?” he asks, surprised.

  “I just left the lawyer’s office, and he told me that they froze your sister’s account,” I say as I park the car in front of the kids’ school. “It wasn’t me.”

  “We know,” he says, and I sit here a little stunned. How does he know?

  “How?” I ask him. From this day forward, I’m asking all the questions and getting all the answers.

  “Because I know,” he says, and I smile.

  “You don’t even know me. You know nothing about me,” I tell him, looking at the kids starting to come out of the school.

  “You’re right, I don’t, but I know you enough to know you aren’t the vindictive type. You don’t want to cause my sister any more pain than necessary. You want your life, and you want her to have hers.”

  “We sat at the table for five minutes,” I tell him, getting out of the car. I wave to the girls when they walk out of the school, smiling when they see me.

  “It was in your eyes,” he says softly. “Someone holding that much pain doesn’t want to inflict it on someone else.”

  “My kids just got out of school,” I tell him.

  “I’ll let you go. Take care, Samantha,” he says, and he disconnects before I can say anything else.

  Blake

  Blake

  I shouldn’t have called her. I shouldn’t have called her. I stare at the phone that I just disconnected. I shouldn’t have called her, but I couldn’t not call her. I had to make sure she was okay.

  Her eyes haunted my dreams all night. The pain, the emptiness, the sadness—it was just too much.

  “Hey.” I hear from behind me, and I look up to see Ricky. “Someone is outside asking for you,” he says, and I get up, walking to the front. I’m in my squad uniform of blue pants and a blue t-shirt. I walk downstairs, coming face-to-face with Rosanna.

  “Hey,” she says, smiling at me. “I brought you lunch,” she says, holding up a brown paper bag. Rosanna is or was Frankie’s best friend.

  I smile at her. “This is a nice surprise.” I kiss her cheek. “Let’s go sit outside.” I put my hand out to lead the way.

  “I figured since I was in the neighborhood, I would stop in,” she says, sitting down at the table we have set up outside. I open the bag, taking in the two meatball subs that she got for us.

  “Good thing we came outside. Not sure the boys would be able to sit by while I ate this,” I say, biting off a big piece.

  “I figured.” She smiles and takes a bite of her own. “So what’s new?”

  I shake my head, grabbing another bite. “Nothing much. Same old, same old.”

  She nods her head. “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” she says as we finish eating in silence. “It’s almost her anniversary,” she says, and I nod. In one month, she will be gone seven years.

  “Yup, crazy it feels like just yesterday,” I say, thinking that the pain is still there, still lingering on the surface. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, that I don’t close my eyes and see her face, that I don’t picture her smile.

  “She would kick your ass,” Rosanna says. “Kick it from here to wherever if she knew you were living in the past.”

  I roll my eyes at her. “I’m not living in the past.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. “Really?” She shoots up an eyebrow. “When was the last time you went on a date? When was the last time you smiled at a woman? When was the last time you …” She doesn’t finish, she just throws out her arms and widens her eyes. “You know”—she leans in—“had sex?”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “I don’t like to date, and I also don’t really have time. Plus, I smile every single day. Sometimes at women, and sometimes, I even give them a nod and a chin up.”

  She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “And I’m not answering that last one.” It’s been almost seven years since I made love to someone, since I held someone, since I was with someone. I know hookups can be easy; trust me, I work with enough man whores to know it can be just about sex, but I can’t put myself out there.

  “You’re basically a monk, which is sad since you’re so hot.” She pushes away from the table. “I have to go, but we will be revisiting this conversation next month.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “Stay safe,” she says, turning around and walking to her car. I clean up our mess, tossing everything in the garbage. I jog upstairs to the kitchen and find everyone just lounging around while we wait for a call.

  The night goes by quietly with no calls, and most of the guys head off to bed. I grab my phone and go to sit down to watch television, but my phone rings as soon as I sit down. I look at the time and see it’s almost eleven. But that doesn’t shock me as much as the name on the phone. Samantha.

  “Hello?” I answer softly and quietly because some of the guys are watching a movie.

  “I’m so sorry; are you sleeping?” she asks in a whisper.

  “No, I’m at work,” I answer, going into an empty room. “Are you okay?” I ask her at my regular volume.

  “I’m fine,” she says, not whispering either.

  “Why were you whispering?” I ask her.

  “Because you whispered,”
she answers, and I laugh.

  “Well, then, now we can have a normal voice conversation,” I tell her, “but it’s late. What’s the matter?”

  “How did they meet?” I close my eyes and lean my head back. “We were having a girls’ night, and my kids watched Tangled, and the whole time, the only thing that I kept thinking about was how did they meet.”

  “Samantha,” I say.

  “I need to know,” she finally says as I hear the rustling of her covers. “I have no family.” She cuts me. “No one.” I don’t even know how to answer her. “I was an orphan, a ward of the state. Never had a father, never had a mother, I never had a family.”

  “Samantha,” I hiss out with the need to reach into the phone and hold her.

  “So I met Eric while I was waitressing. I fell really quickly; he was everything I wanted in a man. And his family accepted me with open arms.”

  “Why wouldn’t they?” I lean back in the chair, seeing her in my head.

  “Well, they were my family. They are my family. But…” She stops talking, and when I hear her sniffling, I know she’s crying. “But now I don’t know anymore. It’s just the more I ask them or shoot down Eric, the more they are pushing me away.”

  “Assholes,” I hiss, thinking about his brothers and how different it would be for her if she was a part of my family, and I stop in my tracks.

  “So now I’m here, and I’m questioning everything. I have so many fucking questions, and the only person who can answer me is buried.”

  “What if I don’t have the answers? What if no one has them?”

  “Then I go on, but I need to make some sense of what he did. I need to know if I was the one who pushed him away. I need to know that no matter what I did as a wife, I didn’t fail.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss. “Who the fuck put that shit in your head?” I ask angrily, so fucking angry I think the phone is going to snap in my hand.