Breaking Love (Full Hearts Book 2)

by Summers, MJ

  Megan reached for another chocolate in the now-empty top tray. She had polished it off without noticing.

  “Shit,” she muttered as she put the lid back on the box. She decided to leave the bottom tray intact until tomorrow.

  She poured herself a glass of red wine and checked to make sure the back door was locked before making her way up to her bedroom, turning off lights as she went. She decided a nice, long hot bath was the way to ring in the new year. Setting the wine glass down on the edge of the tub, she ran the water and added some lavender bath oil, then lit a few candles and switched off the light before getting undressed.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror as she walked over to the tub. At thirty-five, she still looked much closer to thirty than forty. She was tall and slender, with angel-blond hair cut just above her shoulders in a classic bob. Her skin was ivory, her face heart-shaped, lending a fullness to her otherwise slender frame. Her body showed hardly any signs of her having had a child, other than a now-faded line across her lower abdomen from the C-section incision. She had been lucky enough not to gain much weight when she was pregnant with Elliott, and her breasts had remained relatively perky. She knew that she was attractive, having received her fair share of male attention since she was a teenager. None of that mattered to her anymore, however. Whatever currency her beauty had earned her as a younger woman was now irrelevant. Megan would just as soon be utterly plain in order to avoid advances from the opposite sex.

  Her looks had gotten her into the arms of a major league baseball player; her fun-loving and caring nature had secured her there. In the end, relying on a man to take care of her had ended in disaster. If the experience with Ian had taught her anything, it was to stand on her own two feet, to support herself and to never again rely on someone else to look after her. There was no trace of the carefree, quick-to-laugh woman she once had been. Megan had replaced her with someone strong, independent and hardened.

  She had books, wine, baths and BOB, her battery-operated boyfriend, to keep her company. None of them would ever leave the toilet seat up, forget to call when they were out of town or develop a serious drug problem. She had already gone years without a man, and she preferred to keep it that way. As she slid into the soothingly hot water, she felt her frustrations start to dissolve and her body begin to relax. She would find a way to pay for what she wanted from a husband—help around the house. The rest she would leave for women who still believed in fairy tales.

  TWO

  “What do you think? Does it look a little bit like a cat?”

  “Nope. I think you made Mickey Mouse again, Mom,” answered Elliott, who was standing on a stool beside the stove.

  Megan stared down at the large pancake in the pan. “I think you’re right, buddy. You know, if you would just ask for Mickey every time, I’d have an almost one-hundred-percent accuracy rate.”

  Elliott grinned at his mother. “What would be the fun in that?”

  “The fun would be in the feeling of victory I would have at getting it right every time. Now, go rinse the raspberries, already. They’ve been sitting in the sink calling your name for ten minutes now.”

  “Okey-dokey. But I get extra syrup because it’s a new year,” Elliott proclaimed as he climbed down and moved his stool to the kitchen sink.

  “Since when is that a tradition? Besides, I decided your New Year’s resolution should be to give up sugar.”

  “What?! No way! Sugar is my favourite food group. I can’t live without it.” His eyes were wide, showing his distress at the thought.

  Megan smiled at him. “That’s because you are exactly like your mother. Alright, extra syrup, but only because you’re going to help me shovel us out of here today.”

  The phone rang before Elliott could start complaining. “I’ll get it!”

  Each time the phone rang, it broke Megan’s heart a little. She knew Elliott was secretly hoping it was his dad, even though he would deny it if she asked. They hadn’t heard from Ian over Christmas, even though he had promised to come up from Florida to see Elliott during the holiday. Megan could tell it wasn’t him as soon as Elliott heard the voice on the other end. She watched as his face fell a little, wishing she hadn’t allowed her son to hold out so much hope that his father would ever be a bigger part of his life.

  “Hi, Auntie Harper,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Where are you today?”

  There was a pause, and then Elliott said, “Good. Santa brought me a new toboggan and Lego Hobbit stuff.”

  “Thank her for the Wii game,” Megan whispered to her son.

  “Oh, my mom said I have to thank you for the Wii game.” He paused again. “Yeah, she is bossy. She says that’s how moms are supposed to be.”

  Megan took the phone from him. “Go wash the berries,” she whispered to him. “Hello, Harper! How was your New Year’s Eve extravaganza?”

  Harper Young, who had been Megan’s best friend since high school, spoke in her usual lively tone. “It was great until some total asshat lawyer got a little too handsy. Other than that, New Year’s Eve in New York is amazing. How was yours?”

  “Pretty quiet, just the way I like it.”

  “Liar. You’re trying to convince yourself that you like it quiet. I know better. I saw you as a teenager.”

  “Well, I grew up—unlike some people,” Megan replied, cradling the phone against her neck so she could pour another scoop of batter into the pan.

  “You didn’t grow up. You got old. You’re like an eighty-year-old in a hot, young body. Which brings me to my New Year’s resolution—to get you laid.”

  “Oh, for. . . .” Megan wanted to swear but had to censor herself with Elliott in the room. “Seriously, not necessary. Thank you for the offer, though.”

  “Oh, it’s happening, lady! You are coming with me to Paris! I’m running a photo shoot there in three weeks and you’re coming with me. Anita Wolfe is shooting. I told her about you and she said to bring you along and she’d be happy to give you a few pointers! Seriously, Megs, you’ll learn a ton watching her!”

  “Okay, first of all, you seem to be forgetting I have a child, so I can’t just up and leave for Paris whenever the whim strikes me. Second, I don’t exactly have a lot of money to spend on trips. Third, I’m not a fashion photographer; I do weddings and family stuff, which is completely different.”

  “You’re coming. I already talked to your mom. She’s going to stay at your place. It’s only four days. Elliott will be just fine without you. As far as money is concerned, you’re staying in my suite and your flight will be covered because I told the magazine I’m trialling you as my new assistant, so the trip is virtually free. I’ve taken away all of your excuses.”

  “You talked to my mom? Harper . . . I really can’t.”

  “Meg, you haven’t gone anywhere with me in, like, forever! You always say you will and then you never do. The only time we see each other is when I come to your place. I miss my best friend. Please come. Please, please, please. . . .”

  Despite Megan’s slight annoyance with her friend, she couldn’t help but smile a little at her perseverance. “Harper, you’re making me feel guilty. I just can’t. Three weeks from now Elliott has a class field trip I volunteered for, and he needs me here.”

  “Grandma can come,” Elliott interjected. “You should go have fun, Mom.”

  Megan gave her son an exasperated look.

  Harper could hear his loud voice and chimed in. “See, even your son has more sense than you. He knows you need a break. Four days and then I promise to deposit you right back into Dullsville.”

  “How long of a reprieve will I get from the guilt trips if I agree to come?”

  “A year.”

  “Two.”

  “One and a half, no guilting or trying to get you laid. Pinky swear.”

  “No deal. Four days and then you stay off my back about both things for two full years.”

  “Oh my God! I can’t believe you agreed to it!” Harper
shrieked into the phone.

  Elliott heard and started dancing around the kitchen, yelling, “Four days of TV and junk food and staying up late!”

  Megan held the phone away from her ear and rolled her eyes at the pair of them.

  THREE

  Paris—Two Weeks Later

  Luc walked into his apartment and tossed his car keys onto the table in the entranceway. He had just gotten home from a long dinner with friends and even though it was late, he was wide awake. He wandered from room to room in his expansive penthouse, trying to find something to do. He was restless in a way that he hadn’t been in years. Somehow, lately his business ventures weren’t holding his interest like they used to. He walked over to the bar in the living room and poured himself a Scotch. Standing by the window, staring out at one of the best views in Paris, he sipped his drink.

  He wandered over to his bedroom, taking off his tie and shirt as he walked. He finished undressing and took a long, hot shower, letting the water rush over his muscular body. There was no reason for him to feel dissatisfied with his life. He had everything a man could want—money, power, excitement, women. So why was he feeling so edgy? He towelled off and made his way over to the bed, slipping under the covers completely nude. He decided that the next morning he would schedule a kickboxing session. It had been a few days since he had been to the gym. Exercising always made him feel better.

  Maybe he needed to find another woman to be with. It had been a while since he had shared his bed with anyone, and it felt large and empty to him as he tossed and turned. He lay awake for another hour, reminding himself of all the reasons he intended to remain single.

  Boulder

  Megan rushed to her son’s school to pick him up. She had been at a client’s house, photographing their new baby all afternoon. The baby girl was tiny, having been born three weeks early. Megan had felt a stab of yearning as she picked her up and positioned her in different poses. She would have liked to have had more children, especially a little girl of her own. As she drove, she thought about what her life would have been like if Ian hadn’t gotten injured. Would they still be together? Maybe with more children?

  One thing was for certain—they would have more money. As it was, Megan got by, but there wasn’t enough for any extras. As soon as she had realized the extent of Ian’s addiction, she had convinced him to put their large home in Atlanta up for sale. They had split the proceeds and she had moved back to Colorado to be with her family, purchasing a modest home for herself and Elliott. Ian had stayed in Atlanta and ridden out the remainder of his contract before being let go by the ball club.

  She knew it was pointless to think about what could have been. Nothing was going to change what had happened. Ian had been a hard drinker before his injury and it was possible they wouldn’t have made it anyway. As she stopped in front of the school, she saw her little boy’s face light up. He waved enthusiastically at her, not seeming to be at all upset that she was a few minutes late. She grinned back at him and all her self-pity dissolved in an instant.

  * * *

  That night as she stared into her closet, a sudden sense of dread came over Megan. She realized she had nothing to wear that would allow her to fit in with the fashion-conscious Parisians. She was going to stick out like a sore thumb—or rather, a frumpy one. There was no way she could justify new clothes for just a short trip. Her entire wardrobe had been purchased to be comfortable and functional. She had a classic style, but it was on a tight budget and was far too casual for Paris. Her closet consisted mainly of black shirts and jeans. She definitely didn’t have the right shoes, boots or coats to wear, and her only purse looked tattered to her as she stared down at it on her bed. She normally didn’t give much thought to what she wore, but now that she was going to the fashion capital of the world, her heart sank at the thought of how out of place she was going to feel.

  Shit, she thought, I do not want to do this.

  She was second-guessing her decision to even go to France in the first place. In the week before her trip, in addition to packing, she needed to stock up on food for her mom and Elliott, clean the house and make sure the laundry was done, and find a neighbour to shovel the driveway. It was a week’s worth of work just to go on a trip for four nights. At the moment, it seemed like a bit too much. She decided to go to bed early and tackle the wardrobe issue after a good night’s sleep.

  Paris—One Week Later

  Megan walked down the long hall to the arrivals area at Charles de Gaulle Airport, pulling her suitcase behind her, finally allowing a little flicker of excitement to start building inside her. She knew that Harper would be here to greet her, having insisted on taking time away from her meetings at the Paris office. Even though Harper had tried to brush it off as no big deal, Megan knew that as a fashion director stationed at Style’s head office in New York, her friend’s time when she was here was precious. As she scanned the waiting crowd, she spotted Harper rushing over with her arms open. Megan broke into a huge grin at seeing her best friend, and the two gave each other a long hug.

  “Oh, I missed my friend,” Harper said as she pulled back from Megan. She was the picture of sophistication in her black riding boots and fitted tan pants. She wore a short black-velvet riding jacket and her auburn hair fell in curls down her back. She was as tall as Megan but with generous curves accented by her choice of clothing.

  Megan felt horribly underdressed in her best jeans, scuffed low-heeled boots and old wool coat. “I missed you too. God, look at you. You are so fashion-forward compared to my fashion-flawed. I am not going to fit in here very well, am I?”

  Harper grabbed Megan’s arm with both hands and squealed in delight. “Oh, yes you are! Our first stop is the Style office. I have to go pick up the wardrobe for the shoot. We’re going shopping in Style’s closet, only it is so much better because it’s free and the world’s best will be there to dress you.”

  “I’m size eight, Harper, not size zero. Nothing there is going to fit me.”

  “You’re a six, not an eight—none of your clothes fit you properly. It doesn’t matter anyway. They have lots of sizes for celebrity shoots. This is going to be the most fun ever!” Harper linked arms with Megan and they started walking to the exit.

  * * *

  Four hours later, they arrived at the hotel. Megan was too exhilarated by her new wardrobe to feel any exhaustion from the long trip. Harper had managed to sneak her five new outfits, complete with coats, purses, jewellery and footwear. As they stepped out of the cab, Megan felt like a new woman in a full-length, dark red wool coat; black, wide-leg pants; and a sexy pair of pointed-toe, high-heeled black boots. She wore a chunky gold necklace and her hands were cozy in long, ruched black lambskin gloves.

  Everyone at Style had been incredibly kind to Megan. Harper had even managed to find a new set of hard-sided luggage for her, left over from a shoot several weeks earlier. They had managed to cram it with Megan’s new clothes as well as most of what she had brought from home. Harper had given Megan’s well-worn purse, suitcase and carry-on to an intern to dispose of. She had practically screamed with disgust when she saw the ratty white cotton briefs and beige bra Megan had packed.

  “What. The. Fuck. Are. These?” she asked, holding up a pair of panties with one finger, as if they were diseased.

  “Put those back!” Megan hissed. “They’re very comfortable.”

  “And they’re garbage. Our next stop is to get you some good lingerie, my friend. Matching, lacy, underwire, push-up, sexy stuff. You’re going to feel like a whole new woman.”

  After a stop at an upscale lingerie shop, they made their way to the hotel. As Megan looked up at the tall old hotel, she realized Harper had been right. It was as though the world was full of possibilities again. Today, Megan was no longer just an ordinary single mom with another average day to look forward to. She was a young, sexy woman in Paris, of all places! For once in her life, she had the right wardrobe and she had four luxurious days to be whoever she wa
nted to be—four days without any responsibilities whatsoever, and she intended to make them count.

  Once they were inside, the hotel manager met them at the elevator. He turned to Harper. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Young. You will let me know if you need anything.”

  “As always. Thank you.” She smiled.

  When they got into the elevator, Megan turned to her friend. “He knows you by name. Did you ever imagine you’d have this life when we were in Mr. Dumphrey’s math class?”

  “Honey, that’s all I did in his class. That’s why I barely passed tenth grade.” Harper laughed.

  “Well, my friend, you have arrived and I can tell you that this whole life is a world apart from mine. We aren’t even on the same planet, as far as I can tell,” Megan replied with a smile.

  As they walked down the long hall to Harper’s suite, Megan couldn’t help but savour the feeling of the incredibly plush carpet that lined the corridor. Excitement built in her, anticipation at what the room would be like if the hall had such a sense of grandeur. “So, what’s on the agenda tonight?”

  “We’re going to hit a club tonight for a work thing I have to go to. Should be fun. Loads of hot guys. I thought you might want to rest first. Maybe we can order some room service for dinner and chill for a while?” Harper unlocked the double doors to the suite and pulled one of Megan’s suitcases inside.

  Megan grinned. “I’m up for the party but I have no intention of resting. Now that I’m here, I think I should make the most of it. Really have some fun.”

  “Well, look at you! Ms. Responsibility has done a one-eighty to Party Girl! I love it! Come on, let’s put your things in your room.”