Picture Perfect Love
By
Marquita
Valentine
Picture Perfect Love
Copyright © 2019 by Marquita Valentine
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover Design: Hang Le
Proofreading: Read by Rose
Sign up for Marquita’s newsletter
www.marquitavalentine.com
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Picture Perfect Love
Picture Perfect Love
Prologue | Laird | (13 years old)
Chapter One | Ophelia
Chapter Two | Laird | (17 years old)
Chapter Three | Ophelia
Chapter Four | Ophelia
Chapter Five | Ophelia
Chapter Six | Ophelia
Chapter Seven | Laird
Chapter Eight | Laird
Chapter Nine | Ophelia
Chapter Ten | Laird
Chapter Eleven | Ophelia
Chapter Twelve | Laird
Chapter Thirteen | Ophelia
Chapter Fourteen | Laird
Chapter Fifteen | Ophelia
Chapter Sixteen | Laird
Chapter Seventeen | Ophelia
Chapter Eighteen | Laird
Chapter Nineteen | Ophelia
Epilogue | Laird
Epilogue II | Ophelia
Also by Marquita Valentine
Seducing the Billionaire’s Wife
About the Author
Also by Marquita Valentine
(MAKE SURE TO SIGN UP for my mailing list so I can send you an up to date list of freebies titles and keep you in the loop about my upcoming works!)
Seducing the Billionaire
Seducing the Billionaire’s Wife
Seducing the Billionaire’s Brother
Seducing the Billionaire’s Daughter
Lawson Brothers
Love So Hot
Love So True
Love So Irresistible
Love So Tempting
Love So Perfect
Love So Right
Love So Wild
Holland Springs Series
Drive Me Crazy
Twice Tempted
Third Time’s a Charm
His Christmas Wish
Just Desserts
Not Over You
Be Mine
Brides of Holland Springs
The Billionaire Bride
The Temporary Bride
The Forgotten Bride
The Christmas Bride
The Scottish Bride
Scored
Scoring Her Heart
Protecting Her Heart
Catching Her Heart
Boys of the South
Live For You
Only For You
True For You
All For you
Wish For You
Burn For You
Melt For You
Kings of Castle Beach
Picture Perfect Lie
Picture Perfect Marriage
Picture Perfect Summer
Picture Perfect Love
Picture Perfect Love
HOW DO YOU GET OVER your first love?
I fell in love with Laird King when I was thirteen.
I married him when I was nineteen.
I became a widow when I was twenty-two.
Four years later, my husband's been found—only he doesn't remember his life in Castle Beach.
Worse... I think he hates me.
Now I have to decide if I want to fight to be with a man who wants nothing from me or start over with a man who wants to give me everything..
Prologue
Laird
(13 years old)
I SHOULDN’T BE IN MY dad’s office, but I miss him. In here, it still smells like him, and since they’ve scrubbed the walls of –I swallow down the bile that rises—everything, I can spend as much time in here as I want.
His favorite model ship, Queen Anne’s Revenge, lays in a broken pile on his desk. My big brother Knight says that I should fix it, especially since I was the one to break it in the first place over our dad not coming to my last soccer game. A little kid move to be sure, and I’m not a little kid anymore. I have to be a little man, according to my biggest brother, Duke.
I make a face. The last thing I want to be is a man—little or big, but I know I’m not a kid anymore. Kids don’t stay kids when they find dead bodies with bullet holes in their skulls.
My gaze slides back to THE SPOT, where my dad lay on the floor like the ship on his desk, broken and in odd angles with parts missing.
I sniff, swiping away a tear and the memory of it all and concentrate on repairing the stupid ship I broke, only my fingers are clumsy, like when Duke tries to text and keeps hitting the wrong keys.
Outside, a storm is raging, just like I am on the inside. I want to smash more things. Break more ships so that maybe I can bring my dad’s ghost back to haunt us. At least he’d be with us, and maybe Momma would stop crying all the time.
My heart flips in my chest, all painful, like the time I tried to show off and do a flip off the pier but ended up smacking the water with my face. Except this hurt so much worse.
The grandfather clock chimes, letting me know that it’s nine in the evening.
I reach for the boat again and get stabbed in the finger with a tiny nail.
“Damn it.” Snarling, I grab the glue, the ship, and shove it all into my backpack, which is filled with supplies, before snagging my raincoat on the way out of the house and shrugging my backpack on. I wait for the thunder to hit hard before I race out of there, going to my secret spot.
Trees sway in the woods like nefarious pirates walking onto dry land after months at sea as I run through it, jumping over fallen logs as I go. The further I get from my house, the quieter the storm gets, and the rain no longer feels like it’s using me like its personal dartboard.
The lights are on in the old house, and I blow out a breath, slowing down. I know who should be there, who promised to be there, but I duck behind a live oak tree and peer inside to make sure.
Relief hits me, and I blow out a breath as I leave my hiding place. I take the front stairs two at a time and knock out a pattern on the front door. I can hear running inside, then the door swings open with a creak. Pale green eyes stare back at me.
“Laird, you came,” Ophelia says, smiling. She opens the door wider, and I walk inside, all cool and everything because I can’t let her see me sad or afraid.
“Told ya I would.” I shrug out of my backpack and hang up my raincoat in the foyer so it can drip dry. The old wood floors can handle it. Besides, it’s not like anyone but Ophelia or I would notice.
She clasps her hands together, her inky black hair plastered to her head. Her nightgown is like a second skin as she shakes. “Did you forget your coat?”
With a little quiver, she shakes her head. “Momma hid it from me, but I left anyway. I always keep my promises.”
I don’t like Ophelia’s momma, but there’s not much I can do about it. I unzip my backpack and pull out the blanket I stashed in there. “Here. Put this on.”
“Thank you.” She grins and takes it, wrapping it around her like a mummy costume. “I started a fire in the fireplace with the kit you sneaked in here.”
Dang. That’s pretty impressive. “Is it warmer in there?”
With an even happier grin, she takes my hand in hers and leads us to the living room. The house was abandoned years ago, but it’s on my parents’ property, so we wouldn’t get into too much trouble if anyone found out about our hiding place.
An old chandelier sways with a gust of wind that seems to seep through the cracks in the floors. Ophelia’s added to our makeshift pallet with pillows and blankets, and—
“How did you get Christmas lights in here?” I ask.
Ophelia grins. “Your sister’s boyfriend works for the co-op. We even have a working bathroom.”
I narrow my gaze at her. “How does she know about our place?”
The grin slides from Ophelia’s face at my sharp tone. “She caught me in the woods.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I shake my head and mumble, “Didn’t mean to sound so hard. I thought you told.” Great apology Laird. You’re no better than the other kids at school who are mean to Ophelia.
“I promised not to, but she’d already been in the house. She’s a really good guesser.”
“That’s true.” I kick off my shoes and sit in front of the fire under a room full of twinkling white Christmas lights. I wriggle a little. “Did you bring an air mattress?”
“Yeah, my mom was going to throw it away, and I had trash duty, so...” She shrugs, thin shoulders almost as pale as the material of her gown. Her feet are bare but clean as she plops down beside me. “Did you bring snacks?”
“You know it.” I hand over my backpack without thinking. As soon as she pulls out Queen’s Anne Revenge, I snatch it from her. “Don’t touch that.”
She recoils from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was there.” Silently, she hands over the glue, eyes huge as she stares at me like she doesn’t even know who I am.
“Sorry,” I mumble again. “I’m not in a good mood.”
“You don’t have to be.” She leans forward, her dark hair following and covering her face as she wraps her thin arms around her knobby knees. “But you don’t have to be mean to me either.”
“Do you still miss your dad?”
“Sometimes, like when my heart feels lonely or when I hear birds singing. Or when the ocean is slick, and you can see all the way to the bottom.” She sighs heavily. “I’d have nightmares about being trapped under the waves with him. He would wrap his arms around me and hold me in place.”
“But, you were a baby when he died.”
“My momma likes to share stuff with me, so I don’t forget him.”
“Stuff that makes you have nightmares?” I stretch out my legs, warming my feet. My sock has a hole in the toe. “My mom doesn’t have to do that for me to have nightmares.”
Ophelia turns her head, peeking at me. “What are they like?”
I don’t want to cry in front of this girl. I don’t want to be scared either, but I need to be truthful. Plus, I know Ophelia won’t make fun of me. She won’t tell me not to think what I think either. “I see my dad happy, then it’s slow motion, and he’s yelling at me for breaking his ship. There’s a... half his face is gone, and there’s a lot of blood. Like when Deacon let me watch The Shining with him.”
Ophelia’s hand covers mine. “I’m sorry he died.”
“I’m sorry your dad died, too.” But he didn’t kill himself like mine did. Ophelia’s dad drowned in a freak surfing accident—not that it makes anything any better.
I look at the model ship in my hands. “I hate him sometimes. I hate him for leaving us alone. I hate him for making Momma cry, and I hate him for my nightmares. I hate that I found him.
“But most of all, I hate him for making me hate him.”
Her hand leaves mine, and she’s wrapping herself around me, shaking uncontrollably. Only it’s not her shaking, it’s me. I can’t stop crying. She squeezes me tighter. The model ship tumbles to the floor as I hug her right back.
Finally, I let her go, and she sits beside me again.
For some reason, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s so pretty. I lean closer to her. She leans closer to me. “Ophelia,” I whisper.
“Laird,” she whispers back. “Why are we whispering?”
My heart is pounding as I start to voice what I’ve been thinking about for a while now. “I want to kiss you.”
“I’ve never... are you joking with me?”
“Can’t think about anything else.” A lie, but the best lie ever and not a complete lie. I have been thinking about kissing her. “Can I?”
She stares up at me and nods. “Yes.”
I have no idea what I’m doing, but it’s the right thing. And as I press my lips against hers and close my eyes, I can only think that this is the best feeling ever. A beat later, I pull away because I don’t know what else to do.
“Wow,” she breathes. “That was my first kiss.”
“Mine, too,” I admit. “You can tell your friends if you want to.” I’m not ashamed of being best friends with Ophelia Randolph, even if everyone else at school thinks she’s crazy as her mother.
“I’m not going to. This is too special to share with anyone except for my diary.” She lies back on the makeshift bed and stretches. “You don’t have to tell anyone.”
I lie down beside her, our hands finding one another. “It’s too special to share,” I say, copying her. “But if you were my girl, I’d tell the whole world.”
“I’ll always be your girl, Laird.” She yawns widely. “I’m so sleepy.”
“Then sleep.”
“But your nightmares.”
With my free hand, I shove pillows between us, so she doesn’t get the wrong idea. Duke is very adamant about boundaries with Ophelia. He acts like I’m some kind of perv who can’t control himself.
I hold up our joined hands. “We’ll keep each other safe.”
Chapter One
Ophelia
FOUR YEARS LATER
At seventeen, I’ve become something of an expert at sneaking out of my house. It would be cool to claim that I sneak out to go to parties or the mall, but it wouldn’t be true. I sneak out of the house so I don’t have to be surrounded by dead bodies all day.
I know what you’re thinking: teenage girls are soooo dramatic, but let me assure you, I am literally surrounded by dead bodies. My family owns the only funeral home in Castle Beach.
To be totally honest, I sneak out of the house to spend time with Laird King. Momma says I’m not allowed to have him in our house on account that his family is cursed, and our family already has enough curses for three families.
Although I don’t disagree with her assessment of our bad luck, I won’t stop spending time with Laird. He’s not only my boyfriend... he’s my best friend. My only friend, really. Yeah, it sucks to only have one friend, but my momma has reasons that she won’t actually share for me to not be friends with people. And everyone listens to her... everyone except Laird.
I think it’s because he likes doing the opposite of what he’s told. Sometimes I feel like that, too. Okay, I feel like that every time I sneak out of the house to be with him. Once my momma caught me and made me spend the afternoon making up the faces of dead people as punishment. Joke’s on her though because making them look lifelike doesn’t bother me.
It’s when they come in all soulless and badly bruised or disfigured that makes me swallow really hard.
I’ve had enough of the soulless today. I need fresh air.
I need Laird.
Creeping up the stairs slowly, I hold my breath with every squeak caused by my weight on the wood. Supposedly, my mom went out with friends for the day, but I don’t trust her to stay away that long. The older I get, the more suspicious she gets. Plus, she has spies everywhere, which means Laird and I have had to get even sneakier to see one another.
Care
fully, I twist the door handle and slip into the hallway, tiptoeing to the back porch. My tote is sitting in the rocking chair, full of everything I need. Just as I open the screen door, the sound of a throat clearing has me closing my eyes in disappointment.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Momma asks. I don’t have to look at her to know that her lips are pursed, and her face has this pinched look to it. What’s worse is that my mother is incredibly beautiful with hair so black it looks blue in the sunlight and equally dark eyes. Her skin is like porcelain, perfect, but also cold as ice like her heart. She looks like an angel when she’s not so... angry.
Eyes opening, I spin around slowly. “I’m done with my work, so I want to get some fresh air at the beach.”
Momma’s brown eyes narrow to slits. “With that King boy.”
“Yes, Momma, with Laird.” I tip up my chin. “I like spending time with him.”
“He’s only using you.” She says, coming to stand in front of me. We’re the same height now, so she can’t intimidate me anymore with hers. “When he’s done, he’ll leave.”
“There’s nothing to use me for,” I say, crossing my arms. “I don’t have money. I’m not popular, and Laird is just as smart as I am, so I don’t need to tutor him.”
“You do have other gifts.” She gives me a meaningful look.
I roll my eyes. “He doesn’t get that either.”
“That’s because he’s biding his time.”
“Maybe so, but he’s playing a super long game.” I toss my head. “I don’t have to follow the same path as you.”
She pulls her hand back to strike me, and I brace for the pain that’s all too familiar. “Your mouth has gotten very bold lately.”
I shrug. “Maybe I want to be punished for real things and not what you make up in your head.”
Her hand lowers, a strange smile on her lips. “Go then. Let that boy sweet talk you into giving him everything he’s also getting from other girls. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Fear strikes at my heart, not because I think Laird is cheating on me, but because I know other girls are vying for his attention. A part of him likes their attention, I just know it. He loves people, and people love him, including me.
Picture Perfect Love Page 1