by Kat T. Masen
“Yeah, I did. But in your defense you’re hot, so I still wanted to fuck you even though I could have sworn you were heartless.”
Her lips curve upward into a beautiful smile. A smile that belongs to me. I run my thumb across the bottom of her lip, watching as her body melts in slow motion. Then, our cells ping at the same time distracting us both.
“Hey, no phones.”
“Yours went off, too,” I remind her.
Curious, the both of us take our cells out, and in unison gasp at the image on our screen. It’s a selfie of Mom and Max, Mom holding up her finger with an engagement ring.
“They’re engaged?” Morgan questions with a laugh.
I stare in disbelief although Max had asked me for permission to marry Mom earlier this week. I said yes because I thought he was mucking around. But clearly I’m the fool. Utterly clueless when it comes to shit like this.
“I guess so,” I say without emotion. “Does that make you my stepsister?”
Morgan nods, continuing to laugh in shock at the picture.
“How very dirty.” I smirk on cue. “How about we go inside and make this official.”
“Which? The house or the step-siblings part?”
“Both.” I grin, licking my lips as I watch her bite her lip unconsciously.
This woman will be the death of me. She challenges me in more ways than I can imagine, and taught me the biggest lesson in life. She taught me how to love others besides myself.
And perhaps, she needed a rebound and I happened to be just the right man.
Only this time, Mr. Rebound met his match.
His equal.
His soulmate.
With her hand in mine, we walk to the house, together. I carefully slide my left hand into my pocket, clutching onto the small velvet box that’s tucked away carefully.
All I’m waiting for is one person to arrive. It’s not just about asking her to be part of my life forever—it’s also about asking him.
Michael.
Epilogue
“Three... two... one, and push...”
The scream echoes through the room, piercing my poor eardrums as my hand loses a ton of blood.
Fuck! That hurt like a motherfucker.
“It’s a boy,” the nurse yells, elated that the ordeal is finally over.
The whole room cheers in unison. Ten fucking hours later and I can finally relax again. I look across at Morgan and squeeze her hand tight. My palms are sweaty from the nervous last hour, but she doesn’t seem to care, smiling back at me with tears falling down her cheek.
“Can you believe this?” she says in awe.
Struggling to hold back my own emotions, I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t.”
The nurse lifts the baby and hands him to my mom as she lies on the bed with Max by her side. The two of them gaze at the little bundle of wrinkles—his fierce cries have slowed down as his eyes squint while scanning the room in a daze.
“Another beautiful son.” Mom smiles proudly.
I move closer to her and kiss the top of her forehead. Proud of what I just witnessed and thankful she forced me to stay in the room, although I begged to leave in fear I’d never be able to look at her the same again. I just made sure that I positioned myself more toward her head.
I lower my body to get in closer and tuck the blanket under his chin, carefully running my finger along his soft new skin.
“Hey little guy, I’m your big brother.”
I can’t believe they made him.
When Mom found out she was pregnant, the whole family was in shock. Max and Mom were planning to get married but put it on hold while she was pregnant. I didn’t realize women at forty-four could still be fertile. And when it’s your own mother, you choose to ignore how that could possibly happen.
Morgan moves closer to Max, hugging him while she leans forward. He looks proud and stares back at Mom lovingly.
“Hey little guy, I’m your big sister. Here’s a word of advice, sister’s rule. Don’t ever listen to your big brother.”
Mom and Max laugh, the nurses confused by the whole situation.
“I’ve seen a lot of things, but this... this is new.”
It’s something you’d watch on Jerry Springer. Engaged couple finds out they’re just about to become step-siblings and welcome a new baby into the family.
If that doesn’t scream trailer trash…
Mom looks exhausted so we decide to leave her and Max to have some bonding time with the baby. Plus, the nurses mention something about a placenta which is my cue to leave.
We walk out into the hall, and as soon as we do, I grab Morgan’s waist and pull her into me, kissing the side of her neck.
“He looks just like Benny’s son. All wrinkly and cute,” she beams.
“Benny’s son is cute which explains why they’re in for round two.”
Morgan stares at me in shock, unable to disguise her smile. “Rose is pregnant again? Wow! Benny sure has some super swimmers. We only saw them last week and she seemed normal.”
“Yeah, Benny told me she threw up all the way to the airport.”
I cringe at the thought because Benny’s very detailed when it comes to explaining how his wife vomited Taco Bell, and you could still see the chunks of the Dorito shell in the vomit.
We’re interrupted as the click of heels echoes down the hall and we see Scarlett walking toward us. She forces a smile but remains subdued.
“Hey sis,” Morgan greets her. “You have to meet the new addition. I won’t tell you whether it’s a boy or a girl.”
Scarlett watches the both of us and keeps her smile to a bare minimum. After the launch of her book, I rarely see her. It’s a huge success which does great things for her career, not to mention makes a ton of money for our company. Just as Haden promised, I’m promoted to Head of Marketing. A great move although it means I’m on the road a lot and away from Morgan and Michael.
Morgan continues to work with Scarlett and sees her almost every day, but she never makes an effort to visit us. The only reason I know what’s going on in her life is because of the tabloids.
“I’ll go see them now,” she tells us, bowing her head and walking into the room.
I ignore the awkward encounter, focusing on the exciting arrival of our baby brother.
“He’s beautiful. I can’t believe they made him,” Morgan beams with such sisterly pride.
“Let’s not focus on how he was made.”
She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the neck, her band sparkling against the window. Round of applause for the best husband in the world. The one with the most exquisite taste in jewelry—me.
The voices echo down the hall, and Michael turns the corner with Wyatt and his daughter. Michael’s eyes light up as he sees the both of us standing around waiting.
“Noah!” he yells. He runs up to me and hugs my legs. Something I will never get tired of.
“I feel so rejected.” Morgan laughs, followed by a pout.
“Hi, Morgan.” He leans his head on the side of her hip and rests for a moment.
I can’t believe he’s gotten so tall, almost six years of age and he never stops growing.
“That’s better,” she relaxes, kissing his hair. “How was basketball practice?”
“Okay. I scored three times and each time it took me exactly ten point two seconds to get the ball in,” he tells us.
“I’m sorry we missed it,” she apologizes, keeping the smile on her face.
He reads the sign on the door, and asks if he can go see the baby. Wyatt and Morgan take him in, leaving me for a moment in the hall.
Scarlett walks out and sees me, purposely looking the other way until I call her name.
“I haven’t seen you around. And congrats on the nomination for the Oscar. Big news, huh?”
I can see it plaguing her—the embarrassment she feels from our almost sexual encounter. I’ve gotten over it, and I think Morgan’s moved on from it too. After all, they are sisters. A
nd Morgan told me we all make mistakes and forgiveness is a strength, not a weakness. But something in the way Scarlett stares back tells a different story. And I hate to think it’s anything other than embarrassment for her sake.
“I have to go. I’ve got a plane to catch to New York City. See you around, Noah.” She turns around and walks away, never looking back.
I lean against the wall and give myself a moment to breathe when Michael runs out of the room. “I want a brother.”
Morgan laughs and leans down to talk to him but I interrupt her, “We’re on it, buddy.”
“Yay!” He runs back down the hall, stopping at the vending machine where I can hear him counting the prices of the snacks.
“‘We’re on it, buddy’?” she says in bewilderment. “We haven’t discussed kids—”
“What’s to discuss?”
“I don’t know... things…” she trails off.
There’s nothing to discuss. We both want more kids but will constantly disagree on timing. And God forbid I tell her that her biological clock is ticking and on the verge of exploding. That fight had me sleeping on the couch. The only positive thing is the hot sex which followed the morning after.
I purse my lips, and say with ease, “Like how when you thought I was pulling out I was really coming inside you?”
“What?” Shocked, she pulls away from me. “But you came on my thigh... I saw it.”
“Yeah, but that was only half of it.”
She lets out a heavy breath, flicking her hair to the side as she bites down on her lip nervously. “Are we really having this conversation in the corridor of the maternity ward?”
I laugh at the irony. “It’s the most appropriate place to have this conversation.”
“So, you mean I could be pregnant right now? I don’t know whether to yell at you or kiss you.”
I nod, not afraid to show her how happy I am at the thought. A mini us frolicking around.
“Possibly.” I smile deliriously. “Maybe we should find out.”
And with just one glance at her eyes, I know there’s a strong possibility. Her face is radiant, a glow I haven’t seen in the entire time we’ve been together. And the other day when she said she felt lightheaded and nauseous, I told her I felt the same from the orange chicken we ate the night before.
It will make our family complete.
A little baby to call our own.
“I love you, Noah Mason.” She wraps her arms around my neck and kisses the bottom of my chin. “How did I get so lucky to find you?”
“Not luck, baby.” I smirk, tracing her cheek with my thumb. “Just karma.”
THE END
Prologue
“There are two voices that exist,
my head and my heart.”
~ Emerson Chase
“And five... four... three... two...” our producer Cliff calls. “Action.”
Within seconds the cameras begin rolling. There’s three of them surrounding us, inches away as they zoom in close attempting to capture every second of this moment.
We’re standing in front of the Eiffel Tower at some god-awful hour in the middle of winter. I’m a summer girl myself, but something about this place is magical during this season. Perhaps it’s the beautiful snowflakes falling around us or the twinkling lights from the tower. There’s also the sound of heavenly peace.
I breathe it all in—the beauty, the silence, and the man standing in front of me wearing a black Versace suit with no overcoat. Bearing the cold, yet still as dashing as the first moment I laid eyes on him three years ago.
“Em, there isn’t a day that goes past when I don’t imagine you in my life. We’ve been on this journey together, and the moment you walked into that restaurant I knew you were the one. Wearing that red dress… you looked absolutely breathtaking.” A puff of cold air escapes his mouth, followed by a nervous bite on my lip. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and only you.”
Wesley lowers himself to the ground on one knee, eyes fixed on me as he produces a small, black box. He flicks it open and inside sits a beautiful diamond ring. His eyes glaze over—a signature move he often does when he chokes up. And for a moment—if only a few seconds—I forget that the world is watching. It’s just him and me standing alone during this very intimate moment.
“Emerson Chase, will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
The camera zooms in closer with Cliff watching behind the lens, his arms crossed. I try not to pay attention to the way his face has tightened or how his lips remain flat. Never a good sign.
Somewhere, deep inside, my heart asks if this man is the love of my life. If marrying Wesley is the best thing to happen to me. It’s all about relationship progression.
‘We can’t stay boyfriend and girlfriend forever.’ Words spoken by our publicist.
I begin to blink my eyes, and within moments, the tears build and one falls graciously down my cheek. “Yes.” I smile through that lonesome tear.
Wes’ face lights up with joy. His messy, brown hair flicks against the slight wind as he pulls the ring out of the box and slides it on my finger.
It’s beautiful.
I stare at it in complete and utter awe.
The rock is huge, no doubt some designer looking for a promotional opportunity. The second this image hits social media the ring will be sold out everywhere, and the designer will be laughing all the way to the bank.
In a swift and overexcited move, Wes pulls my body against his and kisses me deeply, moving his warm tongue against mine before pulling back with a grin on his face.
Wes is an attractive guy. Sweet, yet at times, arrogant and a know-it-all. The fans love him. The ultimate pin-up boy that every girl has in her bedroom and imagination. Yet, his boyish grin coupled with an exuberant attitude to make me his wife rubs off on me as the excitement slowly sinks in.
Holy shit! I’m getting married!
I take another look at my ring, glancing sideways to read the white cardboard that Cliff’s holding up. I should have practiced my lines, and Cliff’s annoyed face tells me he thinks the same.
“It’s such a beautiful ring,” I comment with a sheepish smile. “Where? How?”
Wes quickly kisses the tip of the ring while not letting go of my hand, holding them preciously as if they belong to him.
“Harry Winston, of course. Nothing less for my fiancée.”
“Fiancée,” I beam without effort. “I really like the sound of that.”
Wes runs his finger along the base of my jaw, tracing it with his eyes before raising them to meet mine.
Closing my eyes briefly, I take a breath and allow myself to feel this moment. This is it. The moment you imagined your entire life. The man you love proposing marriage. This is what all little girls dream about—Mr. Prince Charming, sweeping you away and creating this perfect memory that sets the foundation for a happily ever after.
“I love you, Em. Nothing will stop you from becoming my wife.”
“I love you, too,” I breathe slowly.
We both lean in for another kiss, lingering until Cliff yells, “Cut.”
Wes pulls away first but maintains his position. His body begins to shiver with the brutal cold finally settling in. “You like it?” He strains while his teeth shatter uncontrollably, cradling my waist in his arms and using my body to warm himself up.
“It’s beautiful,” I respond almost speechless and mesmerized by the exquisite piece of jewelry that now sits on my finger.
“Great work, guys, but we have one problem. Wesley, for fuck’s sake, you got the dress color wrong,” Cliff shouts, disgruntled, shoving his coffee cup into the chest of his assistant, causing the brown liquid to spill all over her white coat.
“I did?” Wes replies with a half-assed laugh.
“That’s right,” I confirm, remembering the moment we first met. “It was white.”
“Oh…” Wes’ face drops, his devilish smile disappearing quickly. “That dress.”
<
br /> The dress that caused our first major fight which ended up in the tabloids. It all started because his jealousy reared its ugly head when he caught an ex-cast member commenting on how I looked ‘fuckable’ in that dress.
“Sorry, guys, but since we have that first episode aired we need to get the facts straight,” Jenny, our co-producer, informs us.
“You mean I have to do this again?” Wes complains, removing his hands from my body, folding his arms while kicking the snow beneath his feet.
“Wow!” I drag out. “God forbid you have to propose again?”
“C’mon, Em, I didn’t mean it like that. I just want this over with.”
His face softens, and perhaps I’m a bitch for pointing out that my feelings are hurt. But like everything that’s happened in my life it all feels staged. And this so-called perfect moment suddenly feels very imperfect.
The cold becomes unbearable. My feet are frozen in the expensive pair of boots I’m wearing. The dress I have on has long sleeves, but because we have to get this proposal right, the designer requested I didn’t wear a jacket. The million-dollar diamond necklace adorning my neck feels like cold steel against my already-frozen skin.
I should have taken it as a sign.
Everything about this is to bring in ratings.
To make the television network rich.
And somewhere amongst this scripted moment, Wes and I are supposed to make it come alive. Show everyone what true love is all about.
I do love him. We’ve built a life together over the last three years. We purchased our first home, moved in together, and spent the previous year growing our fitness line. We’ve even adopted a dog—George Puggington.
Everyone refers to us as the ‘unstoppable duo.’ We’re taking the world by storm and at the ripe old age of twenty-six. Forbes predicted we would be billionaires by the time we reach thirty.
It’s win-win in everyone’s eyes.
Everyone’s but my own.
There’s a commotion around us, the crew touching up my makeup and hovering over me while my knees shake with the cold.
Wesley taps his foot, frustrated and impatiently waiting for them to finish when the ring box slips out of his shivering fingers and onto the pile of snow in front of me.