Someday, Somehow

by Claudia Burgoa

  And now here I am, broken without a clue on what to do next.

  My error was to fall in love.

  As if my dad could hear my thoughts, he says, “Loving someone is never a mistake.”

  He pats my shoulder and leaves to do some damage control. There’s nothing they can do that will repair what happened today. My heart is breaking. Blood oozes from my wound, not that anyone can see what’s happening to me.

  I loosen my bowtie, gasping for air. My throat is thick.

  “I should’ve known,” I say out loud.

  Neither one of my brothers says a word. They remain close enough in case I need them but giving me the space I crave. The rawness of this moment shreds my gut, and I am left questioning everything. Wondering what I’m supposed to do now?

  “How will I survive?” I tighten the grip of the fucking paper I haven’t read.

  “By living the best life that you can,” Alex, my younger brother says. “You slap that bitch by showing her this didn’t affect you. There’s life after her. You are Jason fucking Spearman.”

  But how will I survive?

  Something Like Hate

  Between a troublesome client and my fake-girlfriend-for-my-sister’s-Cancun-wedding canceling at the last minute.

  I’m having the day from hell.

  Then I spot Claire. Sexy. Smart. Sassy.

  So one of my superstar employees is boarding the same plane.

  With her help, I could kill two problems with one tequila shot.

  That thing about never mixing business with pleasure?

  I should’ve remembered.

  Now the hottest one-night stand I’ve ever had is my biggest business rival.

  We’re after the same client.

  I’m after her heart.

  The trick is how to win one without losing the other.

  Because when love has you by the balls, it’s time to play dirty.

  Failure is not an option.

  That’s my mantra. I’m determined to succeed. Determination is one of my best tools. I thought I got it from my father, who is a successful, award-winning urban architect. But I’m as persistent as my mother.

  Dad’s quiet, observant, and wise—a man of few words, to say the least.

  His practical advice when I’m about to lose a battle with my mother, Crystal, is, “She’s always right. Just do what she says.”

  For the most part, I follow those wise words. Because that woman never loses an argument. Except today, she’s not winning.

  “Mom, I’m on a tight schedule.” I use the oldest excuse in my book. “We’re about to land two accounts. I can’t just take time off because my sister decided to elope.”

  Clearing my throat, I continue, “Not that she’s eloping. By definition, elopement is marrying secretly...Why is she in such a hurry to get married anyway?”

  Sorry, Lola, I have to throw a little shade your way to save my ass.

  “She loves Kevin,” Mom responds defensively. “Engagements don’t need to last long to be meaningful. It doesn’t take a long-term relationship to realize you’re with the love of your life. It’s time for you to grow up and find love too. Find the right person to spend the rest of your life with. One day I’ll die, and when I do, I want to go knowing my children are happy.”

  “I’m happy, Mom,” I say, annoyed by the guilt trip. “You’re fifty-eight and healthy. Please, don’t start blackmailing me the way Grandma does to you.”

  I tap on my desk, trying to keep my thoughts to myself. Women are unpredictable. I don’t claim to understand them, but there are a few things I’ve learned during my thirty-four years on this earth.

  One, they take it upon themselves to try to fix us, whether we’re broken or not. Two, arguing with them is pointless. Three, they rarely take no for an answer.

  Fighting with Mom is a losing battle 99.9% of the time, and she doesn’t understand the meaning of the word no.

  Unless she’s the one saying it to us.

  Most days, my own mother is my biggest adversary, but I adore the woman. Crystal Archer isn’t to be taken lightly.

  “Everybody dies, Miller. I could die right now and what’s the last memory I’d take with me?” She pauses, and I take a big breath, staring out the window as I wait for her to hit me with the guilt trip. “You refusing to go to your sister’s wedding.”

  Clumps of wet snow fall mindlessly down. Large snowdrifts cover the branches, buildings, and cars moving along the I-25 corridor. It’s just another day in Denver. A blinding sea of white against the asphalt. Leaving this cold city to enjoy a few days in tropical weather would be a smart move. Except I’d have to deal with my family for four long days.

  “Milo, sweetie,” she calls me by the nickname she’s used for me since I was four. I hate it so much. “I’m worried about you. I want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” I say, sighing. “I’ll be even happier if I can skip Lola’s wedding.”

  “Are you dating again?” She doesn’t acknowledge my plea.

  Am I dating?

  Is she for real?

  Fuck, why would I want to date? The last time I was in a relationship, it fucked me up seven ways to Sunday. Been there, done that. I have the fucking T-shirt to show for it.

  Thank you, but no thank you.

  “Because Kelly’s daughter is coming to the wedding. Remember her? Stacey Remington.”

  “Mom, please don’t set me up.”

  “She’s one of the bridesmaids.”

  I don’t care who she is. Do not set me up!

  “Mom, I already have a girlfriend,” I lie.

  The last time I begged her not to set me up, she said, “Well, I have no choice, since you spend your entire life at the office.”

  “You do?” Her voice comes out a little too excited.

  “Of course. That’s why I’m asking you to stop setting me up. I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate it.”

  “Well, that changes everything,” she says.

  I finally relax and get ready to say goodbye. “That settles it then. I’m off the hook. I’ll make sure to throw them a party once they’re back from their honeymoon.”

  “Milo, this is your sister’s wedding. You can’t miss it. I expect you to be there tomorrow,” she says firmly. “No excuses.”

  “Mom, you can’t be serious,” I protest. “I have work to do. She can’t just snap her fingers and say, ‘I’m getting married’ and expect everyone to drop everything to join her.”

  “You're ridiculous,” she chides me with the motherly voice she’s been using since I was a kid. “She invited you last December when she got engaged. I not only expect you to be there but bring your girlfriend too.”

  I grip the phone receiver and look around my office. Where do I get an imaginary girlfriend on such short notice?

  “She can’t go, Mom.”

  “I understand. Escorts have tight schedules.”

  “Mom, that’s—”

  “There’s always Kiley Ott,” she pauses, “if Stacey isn’t a good fit.”

  How many women is she trying to set me up with? And Kiley Ott? She’s like forty-five and married.

  “Mom, she used to babysit us.”

  “No, her sister Kaileigh is the one who babysat you. Kiley’s ten years younger. She’s a lawyer, and very cute.”

  “But I have a girlfriend, Mom,” I insist.

  I’m determined to win this round, or at least fight until she gives up on finding me a date.

  “I don’t think she’d appreciate if I spent the weekend with Kelly,” I say.

  “Kiley,” she corrects me. “Then bring her with you. If you need us to buy the plane ticket, we will.”

  “No, Mom. I think I can afford the ticket.”

  “Perfect, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Found

  All I’ve ever wanted was for someone to choose me.

  My mother didn’t.

  My father didn’t.

  The beautiful boy
next door, who grew up to marry me, didn’t. Neither did the next man with whom I thought my heart was safe.

  Back in the Bay area, three thousand miles from New York City, I can start fresh. Become one with the sea again, rise or fall on the tide of my own choices. But on the first day of my bright new life, the darkest shadows of my past follow me through my office door.

  The two men whose names are definitely not on my five-year plan.

  If I let it consume me—my need for one man, my love for the other—the darkness will swallow me whole.

  I can’t let that happen.

  Not again. This time, the waves of emotion crashing against my heart won’t drown me. This time, I get to choose my happy ending.

  You’ll love this breathtaking friends-to-lovers contemporary romance.

  “What are the three words that best describe you?” the reporter on the other side of the line asks after I disclose the projected revenues for the next quarter.

  I stare at my phone and pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking. There are more than three. Committed, resilient, stubborn, impatient, quiet, reserved … I drum my fingers on top of my desk searching for the best words to use in this case.

  As a businessman, I’m … “Persistent, fearless and adaptable,” I respond promptly, checking the time. This interview is taking longer than I anticipated.

  My brothers would say I’m logical, disciplined, and heartless. They have given me a few nicknames like The Tinman and Ironman.

  “Adaptable?” The reporter’s voice carries a hint of curiosity. “I like that word. Would you mind expanding, Mr. Everhart?”

  “Well, it’s my policy that our company adapts to the economic, social, and political changes our world experiences, just like we all try to.”

  “Would you say that your philosophy is to adapt or die?”

  “Isn’t it everyone’s?” I ask, not caring how she responds, only how long she takes.

  I frown. Adaptation is a verb I use often when asked what's the key to my success. The truth is that I have continued the legacy that my father left behind. But I never say that out loud. I avoid mentioning my parents, hating the intrusive questions about their deaths. They are officially off limits. I still remember the pity looks and sad, morbid stories printed about the orphan raising his younger siblings.

  Everyone remembers September 11th. But the date holds a different significance for me, because that morning I lost my parents. I press a fist against my chest, pushing away the sad memories. Their voices, their directives, continuously play in my head. Their last words, their requests and the need to remind me that no matter where they are, they were still right next to me.

  The call came through in the middle of class. Although I barely used my cell phone, I answered it when it rang. My parents only called me when there was an emergency.

  “Scott, I need you to come back home.” Mom used the calmest voice she could fathom, but I sensed the edgy tone of desperation.

  Something was wrong. My stomach dropped, but I didn’t ask any questions. I rose from my seat grabbing my things and left the classroom.

  “Talk to me, Mom. What’s going on?” I asked, rushing toward the dorm.

  “Harrison will explain everything,” she said, her voice breaking.

  My limbs tingled as the anxiety in her voice spiked.

  “I want you to remember that we love you,” she sobbed. “I love you so much, Scotty. You're my strong, sensitive boy. Please remember everything I taught you. I’ll be watching you from the moon and I’ll love you forever.”

  I froze. Shocked by the finality of her words. My pulse slowed down as she repeated the words she said when she tucked us in when we were younger. A phrase that she made up from two of the books she used to read us when we were little.

  “Mom, wait.” I felt sick to my stomach. “What do you mean?”

  My limbs tingled. Fear rushed through me as I waited for an answer. For some reassurance that they’re going on a long trip, but I’d see them soon. Panic buzzed in my ears, every second that passed felt like a year.

  “I need you to be the glue of our family, keep everyone together.” I heard her cry, and my father murmuring in the background.

  “I can’t, Chris,” she wailed, calling Dad.

  “Mom?”

  My father answered. “It’s time for us to leave, Scott. I’ll take care of her. You help Harrison take care of your brothers.” I could still hear Mom in the background, crying.

  His voice was dry, sad… desperate. He didn’t break as he reminded me of their will. The lawyers, the safe, all the essential details.

  I remained mute, trembling.

  Still.

  Unable to understand what’s happening.

  “I love you, son,” he said. “Be the bridge. Stay strong.”

  My parents used to say that I was the link between my brothers. I was the one who kept the peace—or started the biggest fights.

  “I love you both,” I mumbled as the line went dead.

  My oldest brother, Harrison, called me almost immediately. “I have no idea what’s going on, Scott. Two planes crashed into the towers. There’s a rumor that we’re under attack. Maybe this is war.”

  I huffed, pushing away the sadness. Keeping my shit together while we spoke. “Not another one of your conspiracy theories, Harrison. You need to stop making up shit.”

  “This isn’t a joke. The World Trade Center is burning down.” He stopped, exhaling several times. “Raging fire is consuming the steel and glass along with all the people who are trapped. Mom and Dad included. We need you back.”

  I reached my room, opening the door I began searching for my duffle bag.

  “Dad mentioned it; I’m already packing.” I used my cool voice. If I wanted him to treat me as his equal, I had to show him that I was strong.

  “Good. Jensen is locating a car service for you. From this point forward, we are in charge. You can’t lose your shit. I’m picking up Hunter from school.”

  Harrison was planning, making decisions and pushing away all his feelings. I had to do the same and be ready for what would happen next. For a couple of hours, I allowed myself to cry. I cried until my eyes dried. Until I felt strong enough to help Harrison and care for Hunter and Fitz.

  I adjusted, as everyone expected. Harry’s rage was so intense that he chose to enlist in the army. Leaving the company to me. I didn't mind taking over, even when he had the experience. Everything I do in regard to Everhart Industries is with my brothers in mind.

  “They warned me that you’d be cryptic.”

  I arch an eyebrow toward the phone. Who is she talking about? I’m curious, but I resist asking. I want this interview to be over soon. I text my brother, Fitz while I wait for her next question.

  Scott: Fitz do you have the contracts ready?

  “I think I got most of my answers,” she sighs on the other line. “For my last question, I’ll be quick.”

  “What fulfills you?” she asks. “I’m sure there’s more underneath. CEO suits you, but what makes you…you. What makes you want to be a better Scott Everhart?”

  I turn to my computer screen, holding the phone with one hand and clicking the mouse with the free one until it wakes. The home screen is the snapshot of the one person who fulfills my dreams, my fantasies, and my life. She’s the one who makes me want to be a better person.

  Hazel Beesley

  Her long brown locks draped over her bare shoulders. Those mesmerizing hazel eyes stare at the camera, and her smile is wide and bright. Of all the unforeseeable curveballs thrown my way, she’s the biggest, brightest and best I’ve had to confront in my entire life. She’s the most terrifying challenge, and the most amazing reward. My heart aches with her absence, just like my skin withers without her touch. She makes me want to be a better Scott Everhart.

  “My family,” I don't elaborate any further. “If that’s everything, Miss Krauss, I have a plane to catch.”

  Acknowledgments

 
; Where to start is always so complicated and tricky. As many of you might know, my memory is pretty bad, but I try my hardest.

  First and foremost, I’d like to thank God for all the blessings in my life.

  Thank you so much to my family and my incredible husband for all their love and support. I don’t think I’ll be able to do what I love if it wasn’t for them.

  Thank you to Hang Le for the amazing cover and your friendship.

  Thank you to Karen Huselman for everything. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me since you came on board. Not sure what I was doing before, but I’m glad you’re here to rescue me.

  Huge gratitude to my girls Yolanda, Melissa and Patricia. Thank you for your patience, support and Yolanda, thank you for the menu ideas. As I said, this is for you.

  Thank you to my editors, Paulina, Danielle, and Julie. Dana, Katie, and Becky for that last final set of eyes.

  Thank you to all the bloggers who help spread the word about my books. Ladies, this release was hard but your messages, your support and friendship kept me going. Though, I guess thank you doesn’t cut it, your energy and support are what makes every release a success. Love you all.

  My amazing ARC team, you ladies rock. Thank you for you patient and support.

  To the Book Lovin’ Chicas group, thank you so much for your continuous support. For your daily cheers, and the words of encouragement. I’m grateful for you.

  Last but not least, to you, my readers. I am grateful to you. Thank you for reading my words, and for supporting my books. Thank you so much for those emails and notes, they mean so much to me.

  Love,

  Claudia xoxo

  About the Author

  Claudia is an award-winning, USA Today bestselling author. She lives in Colorado, working for a small IT. She has three children and manages a chaotic household of two confused dogs, and a wonderful husband who shares her love of all things geek. To survive she works continually to find purpose for the voices flitting through her head, plus she consumes high quantities of chocolate to keep the last threads of sanity intact.