by Mia Carson
“What…what are you doing here?” Remy asked.
Stan cringed as he stepped closer. “I wasn’t ready to let you leave,” he told her.
“No, you can’t be here right now. I left so you could have your chance with your son! If I come back I’ll just ruin everything,” she snapped, angry with him for ruining her perfect plan. “Just go, ok? You’re only making this harder and if your social worker finds out, then it will all be over because of me. You have to think of Louis. What’s best for him.” The words tumbled out of her mouth faster than she could stop them. “And you’re going to show up here and say what—you want me back as the nanny?”
“Nope,” a little voice said behind her, and Remy bit her lip as she spun around. “Hi, Remy.”
“Louis? What the hell is going on?” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Don’t repeat those words.”
He giggled. “We’re here because Dad loves you.”
“Louis,” Stan whispered, and Remy’s hand slipped from her mouth.
“He what?” she asked, not believing she’d heard Louis correctly. Don’t say it! You say it and I’ll never be able to leave you.
The little boy laughed as he took her hand and dragged her across the room to Stan. “He loves you. I heard him tell Aunt Sally, but he was too worried about me, just like you were.”
“Louis, I…uh… you talked to him about this?” she asked Stan.
He laced his fingers through hers with a chuckle. “Actually, he talked to me about it. Remy, I want you back—we both do—and not as the nanny, though I’m afraid I’m leaving you without a job.”
She laughed as tears fell from her eyes. “I think I’ll survive.”
He wiped her tears away gently with his thumb, letting his cane fall to the floor. “I love you, Remy. I should’ve told you every damn day.”
“Ditto,” she whispered. They hugged, him picking her up off her feet as her family and Louis whistled and cheered. He kissed her fiercely, dipping her low as she clung to his body. When he straightened, Louis hugged them both around the middle. Remy laughed, shaking her head at Stan as she wrapped an arm around Louis. “You sure about this, kid?”
“Hell yeah,” he hollered, and she laughed as Stan scowled at him. “What? Heat of the moment, Dad.”
“Dad,” Remy repeated. “What about the social worker?”
“I’ll explain everything to her, don’t worry about it. So,” Stan said, clearing his throat. “I hope you don’t mind that we crashed your Thanksgiving.”
Abbey squealed in delight and rushed over to hug Stan. “Of course not. Make yourselves at home, both of you.”
Louis followed Abbey and George right into the kitchen, but Stan held Remy back. “You know, I thought I wouldn’t make it without you.”
“I was gone a day,” she said, laughing. “But same.”
He grinned and kissed her again, then rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Remy. Don’t leave again, ever. Yell at me, scream at me, but please don’t leave me.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal. No more secrets,” she promised. “I love you, too.”
They walked hand in hand to join her parents, and her new family, to enjoy a second Thanksgiving dinner. In that moment, she was truly thankful for the two new men in her life.
Christmas Morning, One Year Later
“Here she comes,” Louis hissed to Stan. He adjusted the two packages on the coffee table as Louis ran back into the living room.
“Well, hello,” she said through a yawn, wrapping her fluffy purple robe around her body. “You haven’t opened any of your presents yet?”
“We were waiting for you,” Louis said.
“Is that right?” She sat down on the couch, tucking her feet up beneath her. “Well, go ahead, I’m here. Have at it.”
Louis and Stan exchanged a glance. “We thought we’d do things differently this year,” he said and picked up the small box on the table while Louis picked up the slim package.
Remy’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on with you two this morning?”
Louis nudged his dad closer, and Stan cleared his throat, his hands trembling as he moved to stand in front of Remy. His stomach in knots and heart thundering in his chest, he held out the small box wrapped in red and silver paper. “This one’s from me,” he told her.
Cautiously, Remy held out her hand and took it. “Stan?”
“No hints, just open it!” Louis exclaimed, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
He and Stan had planned this for nearly two months, and now that the moment was finally here, Stan could hardly stand to wait. He was sure he already knew the answer, but his nerves got the better of him all the same. Remy tore at the paper to reveal a black velvet box.
“Stan,” she whispered on a breath, sitting up straighter.
“Open it,” he urged.
Her eyes wide, she did as he said and gasped. “Oh, my God.”
Stan took the box from her and pulled out the silver and diamond ring. He fell to one knee before her and took her left hand in his. “Remy, you’ve changed my life—our lives—for the better. Marry me? Make this family official?”
She nodded, and he slipped the ring onto her finger. She tackled him in a hug, taking him to the floor with her kiss. Louis cleared his throat loudly until she stopped. Stan helped her sit up.
“Sorry, kiddo,” Stan said. “Your turn.”
“His turn?” Remy asked, confused, as Louis held out the slim package to her. He didn’t say a word, but his smile widened as much as it could. She tore at the packaging to find a skinny, flat box. Remy shook it, sniffed it, and did everything to it before Louis groaned and told her to open it. “All right, I’m doing it,” she said through her laughter and pulled the top off the box. Her eyes narrowed at what lay inside before they filled with tears. “Louis?”
Tears filled his eyes too as he clasped his hands behind his back. “So? Will you?”
“You…you want me to adopt you?” she asked.
He nodded, and she dragged him into a bear hug, kissing the top of his head as they cried together. Stan wrapped them both in his arms, hugging the family he never thought he would have.
“I guess we have a wedding to plan,” Remy said when she pulled back, kissing first Stan’s cheek and then Louis’. “At least I know a good florist.”
Stan chuckled in agreement. “All right, Louis, have at it.”
As Louis opened his presents, Remy and Stan watched, curled up together on the couch while Remy admired her ring. Stan sighed, content with his life and the path it took. He stared past Louis and out the window to the wire sculpture Remy had finally finished when she officially moved back in with him and Louis, and not as the nanny.
The three figures created by twisting wires was the most precious thing he owned now. The male figure in the back stood tall and strong while the woman rested against his chest, and before them both was the figure of a child, probably around the age of ten. Wings encompassed the three of them, keeping them safe and together. The longer he stared, the sooner he saw the white flakes drifting in front of the sculpture.
“Louis, look,” he said, and Louis glanced out the window.
“Snow!” He rushed to his feet and sprinted to get outside in his slippers and robe.
Stan and Remy followed as the snow came down heavily over the hibernating gardens, the tree branches, and the greenhouse roof in the distance. Before long, there was enough for snowballs, and they spent the morning flinging snow at each other and laughing, falling in a heap to the ground. Stan hugged them both close, promising without words to never let go.
FEUD
MIA CARSON
1
Why can’t I be like that? Free to go wherever I want with nothing to stop me? True and utter freedom.
Johanna stared intently at the raindrops running down the windowpane. Soon, the campus would be flooded by the heavy sheets of cold rain pouring down outside, cooling the dry, dusty air of Nebraska, but sh
e didn’t want to be inside watching it. Though her coffee cup was empty, Johanna chewed on the lid anyway, gazing longingly out the window as she strolled through the hall towards her last class of the day.
She sighed and chewed harder on the lid until her friend, Melody, pulled her hand away. “What?” Johanna asked.
“You’re doing it again. If your mom catches you, she’ll smack your hand and you know it,” Melody muttered, glancing down at the schedule on top of her binder. “You know they said this class is the worst. Heard rumors from some friends that he’s a hard-ass.”
Johanna brought the cup back up to her lips until Melody glared at her. She tossed it in the next trashcan they passed. “Great. Remind me why we waited until senior year to take this class?”
“Because of you, Jo. It’s always because of you.”
“I resent that,” Johanna said with a laugh as her friend smirked. “I tried to take it last fall and you said to wait because you weren’t in the mood for a business class.”
Melody glanced up at her friend—Johanna was tall, nearly five-foot-nine—and frowned. “No, I said I never wanted to take a business class, but sadly, like you, I have no say in the matter.”
Johanna’s lips thinned, thinking of the degree she was only two semesters away from earning. A degree she wanted nothing to do with, just like a family that had pushed her patience to the bitter limit. She was twenty-two and had nothing to say for herself as far as enjoying life, being out there and doing what she wanted, living the dream.
She and Melody passed a group of guys standing near the intersection of the hallway. They turned away from her, glaring as she passed. Johanna tightened her hold on the strap of her tote and tried not to show how much it still hurt, after all these years. Everywhere she went in this damn town—hell, the whole damn state—people hated her because of her last name.
“You would think they’d have other things to worry about,” Melody said loudly over her shoulder as they passed. One of the guys flipped them both off, and Melody cursed, grabbing Johanna’s arm and giving her a little shove onward when her steps slowed. “Don’t worry about them.”
“I’m fine,” Johanna muttered. “Perfectly fine. Used to it, remember?”
“Right, sure you are,” Melody quipped and tossed her black hair over her shoulder.
Johanna watched the straight waves fall down her friend’s back and stifled the jealousy that shot through her. She had inherited her mother’s features, her smooth face and her amber eyes, but it was the damn curly, sandy brown hair she hated. She’d wanted to cut it for years, but every time she tried, her mom would throw a fit about losing such beautiful locks. One of these days, she was going to take the kitchen scissors to it and be done with it.
“You’re doing it again,” Melody whispered out of the side of her mouth.
The pen Johanna always kept in her pocket was now at her lips as she chewed on the cap. Blushing, she pulled the pen away and asked where the lecture hall was. Melody nodded down another hall, and they turned, Johanna wishing they had to pass through the courtyard at some point. Concordia University certainly wasn’t the Ivy League colleges her brothers had attended, but it was still private and good enough for her parents. They had wanted her to go to New York, but she put her foot down, claiming being so far away from her little sister, Isabel, would do more harm than good. Her little sister had quite the rebellious streak beneath that innocent face. Johanna couldn’t leave her behind to deal with the weight of their family legacy all on her own.
“There it is,” Melody said, pointing towards the end of the hall. “That’s the biggest lecture hall. Good, maybe we can sit in the back and disappear all semester.”
If only. Johanna followed her friend through the door. They looked at the students already present in the stadium seating, which went up twenty rows. They climbed the steps to where they saw two open seats in the far back. Rain battered the windows, and Johanna turned to watch it fall and stream down the smooth surface of the glass. After a few minutes of knowing she’d be out in the downpour after class, she turned around and pulled out a notebook and her old, reliable pen with its gnarled cap.
Melody smirked as she always did when she saw another pen so abused. Johanna needed a vice to get her through the day sometimes, and it was either chew on something or start smoking.
More people filtered in through the door as it drew closer to class time, and she watched them, picking out familiar faces from her other classes over the years. Many steered clear of her, but when the small group of guys from the corridor stepped in, the one in front let out a loud whistle.
“Well, lookie there, boys, guess we have to deal with a Chadwick this semester after all.”
Johanna bit down harder on the pen cap, cracking it, and cursed but didn’t speak to the guys. They snickered and jeered as they took up the front row, lounging in their seats like the lazy bastards they probably were. People like them were the reason Johanna wanted out of Nebraska. She needed to leave, but deep down, she knew the truth: She’d be stuck here until her parents bit the dust and then her brothers would do the exact same thing to her. Control every aspect of her life. She knew they were even checking out potential men for her to date who would help the family business.
“You look like you’re going to kill someone with that pen,” Melody whispered. “I think you need a drink after class.”
“Can’t, Frank and Frederick are picking me up today,” she fumed. She hated the days her brothers decided to drive her around as if she was still a child. “Apparently, they want to talk to me about something.”
Melody’s nostrils flared, but she didn’t argue. She had learned a long time ago that when the twins were involved, it was best to leave the situation be and let Johanna do what she had to do.
Class was only a few minutes from starting when another person rushed through the door, sopping wet and with a hood pulled over his head. His boots stomped heavily across the floor, and Johanna heard him curse all the way across the room. When he reached the front row, he shrugged out of his leather jacket, and she sank down as low as she could in her seat.
“Damn it. Why is he in this class?” she spat, praying he didn’t look up and see her.
Melody asked who then followed Johanna’s horrified gaze. “Oh, good Lord. You’re in serious shit now.”
“Three years we manage not to have any classes together, and he strolls into this one?” Johanna sputtered, debating if she should hurry from the class and see if there were another available.
Her friend caught the look in her eye and gripped Johanna’s arm. “No, you’re not leaving. You need this class to graduate. Act like he’s not here. It’s a big room with lots of people, and you are adults.”
“He’s a damn Marquette, Melody,” she said. “If my brothers find out—”
“So don’t tell them,” she shrugged.
Johanna’s feet itched to run away, but a man in a suit jacket and jeans stepped in and closed the door behind him. His perfectly bald head and the glasses propped atop the shiny surface caught the overhead lights.
“Afternoon, students,” the man said loudly with a smile as he faced them all.
Most of them replied and watched as the man walked to the dry-erase board. Johanna’s eyes darted to the man she’d spent her entire life trying to avoid. Melody was right, though. Nearly every seat was filled. The chances of him noticing her were slim.
“I’m Professor James Ashford. If I like you well enough by the end of the semester, you can call me Professor Ash,” he told them with a smile, and some of the students laughed. “Now, before we delve into exactly what this class will entail, we’ll go over a basic code of conduct in my class, things you should know but tend to forget.”
Several students laughed again as he opened his leather bag and pulled out a folder. Johanna glanced towards the front of the room again. Maybe she would get through this class without the Marquette even realizing that she sat a few rows behind him.
Senior year was finally here, and he wanted to get it over with as fast as possible so he could figure out how to break it to his parents that he wanted to do something different with his life. It was bad enough that he had to drive far out of his way just to buy a cup of coffee where no one knew who he was at first sight. He loved his parents most of the time, but having a legacy hanging over him had him champing at the bit to have one day—just one day—where he wasn’t under so much pressure to be the perfect son and heir to the family business.
“Right then,” Professor Ashford said, and Reider straightened in his seat. “Who was the perfect, suck-up student and did the assigned reading for today because they checked my online syllabus first?” He glanced around the room and pointed to someone in the back. “Ms. Johanna Chadwick, how about you?”
The room erupted in whispers, and he turned, searching for a familiar face, listening for the sound of that voice.
“Sorry, Professor, must’ve slipped my mind.” She spoke quietly from the far back of the room, and when Reider turned far enough to see her, he caught the reluctance to speak on her face.
She whispered to the girl next to her behind her hand and hung her head. Something was bothering the girl. Had she seen Reider walk in? He groaned, knowing exactly what she was thinking.
Though their families moved in similar circles and showed nothing but respect for each other at such social gatherings, the Marquettes and Chadwicks openly avoided and hated each other with a deep-seated, burning passion which had cultivated over decades. If he was stuck in a class with her, it was going to be a long semester of avoiding her every time he came to class.