by Tawna Fenske
“Me, too,” Mia whispered, her eyes shimmering. “I’m going to do better, too.”
Adam felt Jenna squeeze his hand as Mark leaned forward to kiss his wife.
His wife. Adam repeated the words in his head, and they felt right this time. They fit. He squeezed Jenna’s hand in return and leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Think we should give them some time alone?”
“I heard that,” Mia said, looking up. “No, I want you two here. I need to say something before Katie comes back or my parents show up and start making a bunch of noise.”
Adam quirked an eyebrow. “Is this the season for heartfelt relationship speeches or something?”
“Shut up, Adam,” she said, but her voice had no venom. “I just want to say that I’m happy to have you here. Both of you. All of you.” She smiled at Mark, then looked back at Adam and Jenna. “I know things have been weird this past month, and I’m not pretending they won’t be pretty damn weird in the future.”
Jenna nodded, her hair brushing the hollow beneath Adam’s chin as she moved. “I think we can pretty much guarantee the weirdness.”
“It’s the nature of modern relationships,” Mia said. “We’re all a little fucked up, but there’s also a lot of love to go around.”
“I think I saw that on a Hallmark card,” Adam said, sliding a hand up Jenna’s arm.
Mia smiled. “The nurses and administrators and union reps might squabble like siblings, but they’ll figure it out. And a few people might balk at the Chief Relations Officer having an erotica-writing aunt, but that’s all just noise. It’s the stuff that keeps life from getting boring, but it’s not the stuff that matters. Not really.”
Adam watched his ex-wife’s gaze drop to her new daughter’s face. She stroked a finger over the baby’s cheek, her eyes soft and filled with feeling. She looked lovely and serene and more at peace than Adam had ever seen her.
I never made her look like that, he thought, only this time, it didn’t make him bitter.
He pulled Jenna tighter against his chest, and she turned to smile up at him. “What are you thinking?” she whispered.
“About birth. Rebirth. Fresh starts. The chance to get it right on the next go-round.”
She grinned, and he was hit by an overwhelming urge to kiss her. “That’s pretty deep,” she said. “I was just thinking I want a donut.”
“I’ll get all the donuts you want. Donuts for life.” He planted a kiss on her forehead, knowing there’d be plenty of time later to claim her lips and all the rest of her.
A rustling in the hall made them all turn toward the doorway. Aunt Gertie bustled in, her white hair flying as she clasped her hands together and looked down at Mia and the baby.
“Oh my word! What an absolute doll. Isn’t she just precious?”
“Thank you,” Mia said, beaming. “Her name is Lola Jane. Would you like to hold her?”
“Of course,” Gertie said, shuffling into the room as she slung a heavy-looking bag from her shoulder. “Actually, I brought something for her. It’s a book I’ve been working on. I was hoping maybe I could read it to her as her first bedtime story.”
Adam felt Jenna stiffen in his arms. He tightened his hold on her hoping she wasn’t planning to lunge. “Uh, Gert?” she said. “I’m not sure the Panty Dropper series is really the best thing for an infant.”
“Oh, pish,” Gertie said, waving a hand as she settled into the rocking chair at Mia’s bedside. “There’s nothing wrong with a little erotica, but that’s not what I’ve been writing. Not this time anyway.”
Gert set her bag down and began to rummage through it. Mia peered over the edge of her hospital bed, shifting the baby in her arms. “What is it, Gertie?”
“It’s a children’s book,” Gertie said, straightening up with a square cardboard book in her hands. “It’s a story about love and families and how they’re all different. Sometimes mommies and daddies live in different places, or sometimes there’s more than one mommy or brothers and sisters with different parents. There are all kinds of combinations, and they’re all beautiful.”
Mark leaned forward, peering at the pages as Gert spread the book open. “Are those spiders?”
“Yes, they are.” Gertie grinned. “The book is called A Lovely Tangled Mess.”
Jenna snuggled back in Adam’s arms, and he held her against him, resting his chin on her head. He felt the steady rhythm of her breathing, and matched his own breath with hers as the warmth spread between them.
“I’d love to hear it,” Jenna said. “Start at the beginning.”
Acknowledgments
I’ve seen authors use the term “the book of my heart,” but didn’t fully grasp the meaning of that until I wrote this one. For everyone who made it possible, I owe you endless gratitude, hugs, and awkward butt squeezes.
Big thanks to Michelle Wolfson for believing in me long before you had a good reason to, and for being my friend and safety net well beyond the realm of most literary agents. I can’t imagine navigating these waters without you.
Thank you to Helen Cattaneo at Montlake for falling in love with this story before I fully knew where it was headed, and for trusting me to take it the direction it needed to go. I’m also grateful to Krista Stoever for pointing me back on track when I veered off course, and for whipping this bad boy into shape. Kudos as well to Irene Billings for shepherding me to the finish line with enthusiasm, professionalism, and panache. Thanks to Kelli Martin, Anh Schluep, Scott Calamar, and everyone else at Montlake for your amazing work on publicity, cover copy, artwork, and the million other things you do behind the scenes. You guys are rock stars.
As always, my amazing critique partners and beta readers are responsible for reducing the number of readers tempted to hurl my books at the wall. I’m deeply grateful to Bridget McGinn, Minta Powelson, Linda Grimes, Cynthia Reese, and Larie Borden. You bitches rule.
Thank you to Jenna McCarthy, Julie Klingman Rector, and Meah Cukrov for the names, and to Dr. Ashley Hampton for the guns. That sounds like an awesome setup for a bank heist. Endless thanks to Donna “Hot Lips” Libolt for inspiring elements of Aunt Gertie, and to Tamara Zagurski for the beautiful bits and pieces of Shelly. I also lift a big glass of Sangiovese to Margaret Kolata for the job title.
So many friends, colleagues, and family members propped me up and mopped me off during the divorce that would eventually become one of the catalysts for this story, and there aren’t enough pages in this book to properly express my appreciation to all of you. Nevertheless, thank you to Lindsay Allen Landgraf, Larie Borden, Aaron Sallee, Linda Brundage, Dan & Gina Streck, Aislin Goldrick, Mary “Harley May” Jones, Jessica Corra Larter, Jeffe Kennedy, Stephanie Anderson Stroup, Claudine Birgy, Adam & Laura Fenske, JJ Shew, Sheri Abbott, Cherri Miller, Cathy Staley, Dianne Capozzola, Diane Kirpach, Karen Tippets, Nancy Zurflu, Katy Elliot, Bethany Powers Flint, Lynnette Braillard, and Valerie Warren. I couldn’t have gotten through the muck without you.
Though my parents, Dixie and David Fenske, deserve a starring role in that last paragraph, they kinda require their own paragraph for all the love, support, and cheerleading not only in my darkest times, but in my brightest ones, too. I owe everything to you guys, and I’m so lucky and proud to be your kid.
Thanks also to Aaron and Carlie Fenske for being a kick-ass part of my support system and family.
Cedar and Violet—I never expected my life to include kids without four legs and fur, but thank you for giving me reasons every single day to tell people I won the stepkid lottery. I love you guys.
Most of all, thank you to my husband, Craig Zagurski, for making it possible for me to write a story about finding amazing love in the aftermath of failed relationships. You are my rock, my muse, my daily source of laughter, and the one who makes my heart (and other stuff) throb with joy. Love you, baby.
About the Author
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hoto © 2013 Craig Zagurski
Tawna Fenske is a romantic comedy author who writes humorous fiction, risqué romance, and heartwarming love stories with a quirky twist. Her offbeat brand of romance has been praised by Booklist as “A tame Carl Hiaasen on cupid juice,” and RT Book Reviews nominated her debut novel for contemporary romance of the year. Tawna is a fourth-generation Oregonian who can peel a banana with her toes and who loses an average of twenty pairs of eyeglasses per year. She lives in Bend, Oregon, with her husband, stepkids, and a menagerie of ill-behaved pets.
To learn more about all of Tawna’s books, visit www.tawnafenske.com/books