Forever More
The Evermore Series Book 2
Rachel De Lune
Contents
Forever More
Synopsis
Acknowledgments
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Epilogue
The End.
Excerpt
About Rachel
Also by Rachel De Lune
Synopsis
What if you had everything you wanted within your grasp, but let it go?
Isabel Fields stands on the brink of a new life. She has the Dominant/submissive relationship she craves with the man she loves, but her past continues to haunt her.
With Isabel, Sebastian York can release the sexual Alpha Male he’d always tempered. He doesn’t intend to let her go, even when she bolts in panic. Together, both could experience the freedom to explore their relationship and sides of themselves previously stifled.
Their love is tested when issues of trust rising from Izzy’s past marriage and her damaged heart take their toll. They may have fallen in love, but that doesn’t guarantee it will be forever more.
Izzy and Seb have two choices: grow stronger together or be pulled apart by the past.
©All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written consent from the author, except that of small quotations used in critical reviews and promotions via blogs.
Forever More is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Forever More ©2018 Rachel De Lune
Cover design by Rachel De Lune
Book design by LJDesigns
Editing by PAK and H.A. Robinson
Rachel De Lune on Social Media:
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Website: www.racheldelune.com
Acknowledgments
This has been an enormous year for me. This realm of authorship is filled with wonderful, supportive people who have given me the encouragement and confidence to write what I want to. There are a few that I couldn’t do this without and need to offer my deepest thanks.
As always, to my fabulous critique partners, Elizabeth, M and Kris. Once again you have helped my word jumble make sense and given me support and determination.
To my American Mum, T. You continue to make me write better. I promise that I won’t water down the coffee.
To Stephy, who is always at the end of the phone for my brain dump of questions. You settle my nerves and bring my scribbles to life. I hope I continue to write stories you want to publish.
Wendy and Claire (Bare Naked Words), you do an awesome job and I know I’m in safe hands. Thank you. To all of the blogs who have supported me to date, as a reader I love you and as an author I thank you.
Heather, yes, Seb is yours. Sorry folks, she claimed him first.
Rebecca, thank you for the hot guys. Man candy can be such a good writing motivation.
Leanne, keep believing in yourself. I do.
To the wonderful authors I’ve met on-line. Keep tapping those words out.
To Roxane and Sarah, I love you girls!
My hubs will probably never read this, but he lets me sit in my office and write my stories with very little complaint. I love you, boo. And to Vicki, who is probably more excited about all of this than I am. Thank you for your unwavering support.
Lastly, to the fabulous readers who have read my words and supported me. Your reviews, likes, shares, messages and tweets have filled my heart with joy. I still have to pinch myself. Thank you.
I sit on the bed I ought to share with my husband, in my room, in my house, but this isn’t my home. Even after ten years. A home is made up of more than a place to reside and a few belongings. A home is full of love, warmth and memories that bring a smile to your face, even when you feel lost or scared.
It’s dark outside but it must be close to dawn. I’ve sat for hours, motionless, purposely blanking my mind. I can cope with sitting. I’m the first to overanalyse everything, to over-think and replay everything in a loop in my mind, but I can’t bear to replay the memories of what happened last night. It’s as if my mind begins to shut off when I edge closer, thinking about Seb’s words. “Izzy, I can’t deal with you still being with your husband. I don’t want you if you keep going back to him. I deserve better. I deserve more.”
My body is on autopilot as I walk downstairs. I survey all of the rooms and belongings: the DVDs, the mismatch of tea cups lining a shelf in the kitchen. I look at it all, and I’m struck that these aren’t our things. They are my things—my random mix of bowls and plates, my pictures on the walls, my table in the living room, my cushions. I hadn’t seen it before, but this house in Bath isn’t our home. It’s my house that I’ve worked at turning into a home, but it’s neglected by Phil.
I continue through the entire house. I can count Phil’s possessions on one hand. Only a pair of trainers in the hall and a few dirty shirts in the laundry show he’s still living here. It would be so easy to take everything of Phil’s and pack it up. How can I stay here, though? I don’t want to be here. This isn’t where my heart is. I want to be with Seb. I take a deep breath and fill my chest. My scream echoes around the empty rooms, filling the air with grief and sadness.
My lungs drain of air and give voice to everything I’m afraid to admit to. My marriage to Phil is over. I’ve ruined my relationship with Seb. I’m scared. Three pivotal facts that are at the root of the emotions that have worn me down and made it hard to think straight. My world has changed over the last few months. My perspective has tilted—changed for the better—thanks to Seb. Finally speaking up for myself in my empty marriage was the starting point. Asking Phil for more than unsatisfactory vanilla sex only drove more distance between us. Having an innocent drink just to escape my empty house also led me to Seb. I never intended to meet a man who could give me everything I dreamt of—the love and attention I’d been starved of for years, the freedom to surrender and explore my sexuality and my darker fantasies, previously locked away in my online world. But I did meet him and he opened my eyes to just how miserable my life was before. I was a coward for not confronting Phil sooner. Now, I might have lost Seb because I wasn’t brave enough to face Phil, to demand that he listen to me instead of letting him walk all over me. I should have grabbed my chance at happiness with both hands.
My husband doesn’t love me. I don’t love my husband. I love Seb. I want out of my marriage. Those four statements are my truth. They feel right. “My husband doesn’t love me. I don’t love my husband. I love Seb.” I say them aloud, claiming them, and it feels liberating. Something shifts within my soul and I’m not bound by my fear of what admitting that love will mean. I shouldn’t feel ashamed that my marriage is over. It’s not all my fault.
I look around the hallway. A surge of adrenaline floods my system as my bo
dy catches up with my mind, and I head for my bedroom and look for a bag. My eyes land on the overnight carry-on, which wouldn’t even hold what I need for a weekend, let alone my entire wardrobe. I need a suitcase, or two. The spare room wardrobe is my next destination and I pull both cases down and drag them back to my room. I line up both suitcases and everything gets rammed in, underwear, jeans, jackets. I dump armfuls of clothes into the cases. I wedge it all in, unconcerned about neatness or creases. A few manic minutes later, I have emptied my drawers and wardrobe and have two cases bursting at the seams.
I strip out of my dress, pull on the comfy pair of jeans and jumper I left out, and stuff my feet unto Uggs. I drag each case down the stairs and only pause to gather my essentials, bag, phone, computer bag and keys. Wasting no time, I squeeze the cases into my little Fiat and head to the only address I can imagine going to. Well, the only one that I’ll be welcome at.
My hand is numb from banging so hard on her door. It’s 6:00 in the morning on a Saturday, so I know she’ll be in. I just left my husband. I lose a little of my composure but keep knocking. Jess isn’t a morning person, so I lift my hand to pound on the door again. Finally it swings open.
“Who the hell…? What do you…? Izzy?” She looks shocked, stilling with the door half open. “Um, Izzy, what…?”
“I need to stay here for a few-ish days. Will you have me?”
“Wow, Isabel, you have suitcases. As in plural.” She smiles and opens the door for me. I dump my bags in the front room before turning around and going back out to pull my suitcases in from the porch.
“Yes.” I brush past her, determined to get everything inside before having to explain myself. Admitting why I’m here to myself is one thing. Saying it aloud will bring it to life. She stands and watches me struggle with my first case. I pull it into the house and drop it at her feet. Seeing my best friend dumbfounded for once, I go back for the other. I stack it next to her, pinning her in the tiny hall, and then head to the kitchen to put the kettle on for a cup of tea. I know Jess will need it, and so do I.
I put the kettle on and make two cups before Jess ventures in to see what I’m up to. She still hasn’t said a lot, but I know Jess—it’s only a matter of time. She takes the proffered cup and sits opposite me at her kitchen table. I look at her, waiting for her to make the first move. She’s gearing up for it. It’s clear all over her face.
“So, are you going to say anything?” I press.
“Izzy, what time is it anyway?” She shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re here? To stay?” She’s shocked. Her voice has gone all squeaky, but she pauses for a sip of tea. Her hair is tied in a messy knot on top of her head, but she can’t contain the mass of blondeness working loose. “Well?” she says, as if it’s my cue.
“Yes.”
“Don’t leave me in the dark.”
“Well, I’ve not really worked anything out beyond getting here…” I trail off. “I left him. Phil. I just… I can’t stay with him. I can’t stay at the house. It’s not our home and hasn’t been for a long time. I finally saw it earlier tonight, um, last night, but I can’t throw him out.”
She scowls at me. I hope Jess will understand, and that she doesn’t bring up the other man in my life. Or rather, the man who was in my life until I managed to mess everything up by being too weak to deal with my failed marriage.
“Okay.” She sits forward in the chair. “What did Phil say? I can’t imagine he was especially happy.”
“Well, he sort of doesn’t know. Not yet, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Her face scrunches up in a confused frown.
“He dragged me out last night and forced me to attend his stupid Christmas party. He promised we would talk everything out if I did. He scares me, Jess. Recently, his anger escalates in a way that makes me nervous. I went to the party, but I realised early on Phil only wanted me there to make Sophie, his ‘fling’, jealous. I ran into Seb there.”
“No!” she gasps. “What happened?”
“Things got messy. I’m not ready to go into all of the details just yet, but I ended up back at home. Phil didn’t come with me, and he hasn’t checked in since I left him. He still hadn’t come home when I left to come here.”
“Okay. And…”
“And nothing. I just need… I just need to make Phil see that we’re over. This part of my life, my marriage, I need to make a clean break before I think about anything else, okay?” My voice is near to breaking, and I don’t think I can go into any more detail without my tight hold on the emotional ball of relief, fear and pain slipping, crashing down on me and paralysing me with my reality. I take a long drink of my now tepid tea and wait.
I don’t look at Jess. She’s sorting through this in her head, and it is only 6:30 a.m. I finish my tea and put the cup in the sink.
“Do you want a hand with your bags?” she finally asks.
“Just up to the spare room, please. If I can have it?” I smile at her.
“Oh, Izzy.” Jess steps towards me and wraps me in a gentle hug. I let out a sigh of relief. I know she never would have turned me away, but having her confirm it is a relief. She squeezes me again and a single tear falls. I know more will come when I finally admit what the numbness around my chest signifies, that I’ve let the person I love go, before I really had him. That’s when the tears will flow. I hope I don’t drown in them. I hope that luck will be on my side and help me to fight my way back to Seb.
It’s nearly midday before I venture downstairs to make some more tea. There’s no sign of Jess, and I’m almost hoping that it will stay that way. I can go on in my muddled haze without having to explain my next move to her. Leaving Phil was the goal, but what next? Everything was so clear last night. I was determined to make Phil see I was serious about wanting a divorce. My decision to leave was one I needed to make. I owed it to myself. I’ve finally got the courage to stand up for myself. I won’t question that I’m deserving of happiness anymore, no matter how hard it is.
I go back upstairs to check my phone for calls or messages from Phil in response to the empty wardrobe. If he’s called, I’ll be shocked, but I’m not holding my breath. I can’t be a coward anymore. I need to end things with Phil, and I need to do it soon.
I pull out my phone and dial Phil. It rings and rings. My stomach churns and my heart pounds after each ring tone. I feel sick, and my hands are clammy as I clutch the phone. Finally, the answer phone clicks in and I hear my own voice asking me to leave a message.
Phil won’t be without his phone, so I call it over and over—I can’t let this go. Phil finally picks up. “What is it, Izzy?” His voice is gravelly and full of sleep.
“I need to talk to you and it can’t wait.” I project as much authority into my voice as possible.
“Really, Izzy, after your disappearing act on me last night? I’m sure I don’t want to talk to you.” He sounds angry now, but that helps.
“Where are you, anyway? It’s two in the afternoon, and I really do need to see you.”
“Well, I’m not at home, am I? Just wait until I am, Izzy. I’m sure you can keep yourself busy with your computer until I get home.”
“No, I have something I need to speak with you about, and I’m not home either.”
“Why? Did you say you weren’t feeling well, or was that just an excuse to leave the party?”
“I didn’t stay at home. I’m not there. Please, just listen to me. I’d like us to talk.”
“After the way you acted, you’ve got to be kidding me. And where are you if you’re not home?” His tone is now past angry.
“It’s none of your business. Please, I’d just like to have a conversation with you without you shouting at me.”
“It is my fucking business where you are, Izzy. Don’t mess with me.”
“Why? You seem to think I only deserve to know where you are when it suits you. I’m fed up with the way you treat me, Phil.”
“What, just because I’ve stayed out and wa
nt to know where you are? That’s my business to know.”
“I agreed to go to your Christmas party. You promised me we could talk without fighting. Why don’t we meet somewhere?” I count to ten in my head, trying to calm myself so I don’t say anything I will regret later. I’ve never challenged him before, and he doesn’t like the idea that I’m not firmly under his thumb. It’s sent his well-organised world spinning.
“Sorry if I can’t fit into your plans, but after you ran out from the party last night, you sure as hell didn’t fit into mine, so you’re just going to have to get used to it. Now, I want to know where you are.” No amount of counting in my head can stop me rising to that.
“You’re unbelievable. You seem to think I’m oblivious to where you really are when you’re out. I’m not. Tell me, Phil, how’d you get Sophie away from that other gentleman she was nuzzling up to?”
“Where the fuck are you, Izzy?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Izzy, stop playing…”
“I’m not playing. It’s over, Phil. I don’t want to be married to you. I want a divorce.” Silence greets me. He’s pushed me to this. He’s goaded me time and time again, helping me to find the words that I’ve wanted to say amongst his ugly tirade.
He’s still quiet. I’ve shocked him.
“What do you mean, you don’t want to be married to me anymore? It’s not something you get to choose, Isabel.” His words ooze with venom. Gone is the Phil that I once loved more than the world. He’s become someone I don’t recognise.
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