Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Book 1
Chapter 1
Enchanted Immortals Book 1
Prologue
Chapter One
Table of Contents
Something Worth Saving
Copyright
Blurb
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Books by Mayra Statham
Check these Titles from your Favorite Authors
Copyright © 2017 by Mayra Statham
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This 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.
Editor Julia Goda
Formatter CP Smith
Blurb
They had it all.
Or so they thought.
A fairytale kind of romance that started with a girl and a boy falling head over heels in love.
This isn’t that part of the story. This is what happens after the happily ever after. After careers blossom, babies, stretch marks, and carpools.
Nadia is lost. As much as she loves her life, she hardly recognizes the reflection in the mirror. All she sees is his wife, their mom.
Owen works hard. Somewhere between his career and life, working to provide everything possible for his girls, he lost track of what was important.
After one too many broken promises, cold shoulders, and nonexistent attempts at trying to work on ‘them,’ she is ready for her life to change. When she does, he wakes up and realizes his own mistakes.
Do Owen and Nadia Daniels have something worth saving?
Acknowledgements
To my forever boyfriend: It will always be you. Through thick and thin, it is always you and me. xoxo
To my beautiful kids: You make our lives fuller and brighter than a sky filled with stars. Remember that when you find something beautiful, always cherish and take care of it. Make the time to make it grow.
CP Smith, Julia Goda: My soul sisters. Thank you for your friendship, love, and support. Your guidance and encouragement are priceless! I love you guys and am honored to call you not only my friends but my sisters! Love you to the moon and back, my babes!
Diamond in the Rough Editing & Dark Water Covers: You are amazing to work with! Thank you for your help at making Something Worth Saving that much brighter!
Tracie Douglas from Dark Water Covers: I cannot thank you enough for the beauty of my cover and your friendship. I am so lucky to call you my friend.
Kelly Tucker: I love you. Thank you so much for your encouragement and support on this story. You know exactly what you mean to me! Love you, babe.
Statham’s Sexy Stars: My amazing street team! I love each and every one of you! Thank you for the endless support and encouragement.
#WordSprintSisters: You know who you are. Thank you for helping me get those words to the screen! I adore you guys!
To you, the reader: Thank you for taking a chance on my book. I hope you’ll fall in love with Nadia and Owen’s story. Please always feel free to contact me, whether via email at [email protected] or on social media.
Dedication
Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads, which sew people together through the years.
-Simone Signoret
Chapter One
Nadia
MUSIC MIGHT HAVE BEEN playing, but I couldn’t make out the song. My head was too muddled with my own thoughts and the sounds of arguing coming from the backseat. I stared at the red light in front of me, trying to relax my body and mind, but it wasn’t working. It was impossible. My hands tightened around the steering wheel. I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. But nothing was working.
I was used to the noise. With twin girls who were opposites one moment and one and the same another, it came with the territory. So, it wasn’t that. It was the failure, the feeling I kept trying and trying and just not measuring up I couldn’t seem to shake off lately. It left a singed sensation throughout my entire body.
“Girls, come on.” I quickly glanced at the backseat, trying to keep my voice steady, hoping and praying I wouldn’t completely lose my mind.
My girls were everything to me. I loved them before they took their first breath out in the world, but they were driving my up-the-wall crazy with their incessant fighting.
“Mom! She started it!” Becca whined, but Vivian cut her off.
“I did not!” Viv shrieked, making my eye twitch. “Mom! Tell her we can’t go to her stupid ballet lessons because I need to go to gymnastics!” she shouted. A throbbing started at my temples.
“Ballet is not stupid!” Becs retorted. I turned to look out my driver’s side window then back to the front, my eyes on the traffic light as I silently counted to ten.
“Mom! Becca said ‘stupid!’” Vivi yelled.
“Whatever, you dummy! You said ‘stupid’ first, nerd!”
“Mom!”
“Mom! Vivi started it!” Becca shouted, and I snapped.
“Enough!” I clipped sharply, daring to take a glance behind me. “I can take you to both activities, but you need to settle down. If you don’t, we won’t go anywhere,” I warned seriously, my patience almost nonexistent.
Thank God, it’s date night.
My eyes caught a glimpse of the perfect dress for tonight I had found at a little shop earlier in the week. A couple of hours out with Owen, grown-up conversation, good wine, and great food. Exactly what I needed.
What we need.
Silence finally fell over the backseat and I looked ahead just as the car behind me honked at letting me know the light had turned green. My cell rang and I answered it through the radio, smiling at the caller ID that flashed as I made my left-hand turn.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe.” The deep tone of my husband’s voice still made me smile after so many years. Looking at myself in the rearview mirror, I thought about our date.
Maybe I could find a way to slip in a shower, shave, and have enough time to do my makeup befor
e we had to make our reservation.
“Hey, you’re on speaker. Taking the girls to gymnastics and ballet,” I shared.
“Hi, Dad!”
“Hey, Dad!” the girls chimed happily.
“How are my girls?” he asked. I smiled at their reaction.
“Good!” they answered simultaneously. A smile played on my lips; my shoulders started to relax. My girls’ fight was now non-existent. The power of Dad.
“Oh, okay, good. Good,” he mumbled, sounding distracted as usual. He was probably working on files as he made the call. “Listen, Nadia…” By his tone, I knew. I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say, so I braced. “I don’t think I can make it on time tonight, babe. I’m sorry.” Again?
“What?” I swallowed hard, trying not to let the disappointment show in my face or voice.
“We had a complicated case, and then they want us to go over a couple of things afterward.”
“Can’t you guys do that tomorrow?” I asked, hating the obvious desperation in my voice.
This was the sixth date night he had canceled.
In a row.
“Babe,” he groaned, and I knew the answer; there was no point in sounding like a nag.
“Okay.”
“We’ll reschedule,” he added. I swallowed down the need to roll my eyes and cry.
“Sure,” I muttered, my chest aching. Crystal-clear disappointment flowed through my veins.
“I promise, Nadia,” he threw out carelessly. I bit my tongue. The setback settled and weighed in my chest. I tried not to wince at how little his promises were beginning to mean. When had that started? I remembered how not so long ago I could count on his promises. His word had meant something.
“It’s fine.” I shrugged, needing to end the call before I said something I might regret and couldn’t take back. Something that I shouldn’t say in front of the girls. “Look, I’m driving. See you tonight.”
“I’ll be late. Going to grab dinner on my way, so don’t worry about me, okay?”
“Sure,” I mumbled, wincing, hating the anger I was starting to feel. Dinner. I hadn’t defrosted anything, since I had planned on ordering takeout for the girls and the sitter. “Girls, say bye to your dad,” I ordered, trying to maintain some kind of control over my emotions.
There was no need for the girls to see me upset. Things happened. Dates got cancelled. It was part of life, I had to remind myself.
“Bye, Dad”
“Bye, Daddy!”
“Love you girls. Be good for your mom,” he said. I opened my mouth to tell him I loved him, but the call ended.
Without an ‘I love you.’
Again. When had that started and why was it okay for it to be our new normal? I kept driving the minivan I’d hated the moment Owen had brought it off the lot as a surprise for me. A quiet pop song by an artist the girls liked played, but I wasn’t paying attention.
I’m not going to get upset.
This wasn’t the first time something had come up. But as much as I reminded myself of it, I couldn’t ignore how it felt different this time and how I knew it wouldn’t be the last.
“Sorry about your date, Mom,” Vivian said softly.
“Yeah, Momma, that sucks. Your new dress is really pretty,” Becca pointed out, since my dress was hanging by her side. I blinked tears away and swallowed down the disappointment. How many times had I done this last month? More like the last seven years, a small voice whispered, and the heaviness in my heart only grew.
How much longer did I have it in me to keep doing it?
“It’s okay, babies,” I told the twins, meeting their eyes in the rearview mirror before looking ahead. “It’s okay,” I repeated this time in a whisper directed at myself.
***
It was after ten o’clock when I found myself sitting on the porch swing in our darkened backyard, a mug of tea in hand, even if what I really wanted was a glass of wine. Or tequila.
Tequila sounds damn good.
I heard the door open and close and watched my husband walk into our home from where I was sitting outside. I observed him throw his suit jacket on the back of the couch, and I knew if I didn’t pick it up when I got back in, it would be a wrinkled mess by morning and would add a dry-cleaning trip to my week. Why can’t he just hang it? I breathed in deeply, trying not to let it annoy me. He walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water before looming in the doorway of the French doors that led to the backyard.
“Hey,” he said, looking around the yard and then finally at me. Even with the distance between us, the fact that the light behind his back made him nothing than a shadow, I knew every angle and line of his face. Probably better than I know my own.
“Hey.”
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asked. I kept looking at him. My heart picked up speed. It didn’t fail. Anytime I looked at him, even after all these years, I thought he was exquisite. Tall with broad shoulders and a slender waist, he almost blocked out all the light behind him as he folded his arms across his chest. I couldn’t make out his strong forearms or the ink on his upper arms, but I knew them. Memorized each line of every beautifully inked mark on his tanned skin. Each tattoo a memory. God, he is sexy.
“The bulbs died,” I replied. His hands fell to his sides.
“Shit, that’s right. I told you I would change them.” He had. But he had also been busy. Again.
He is always busy.
“I will. This weekend.” He threw out another promise I knew he had no intention of keeping. It irked me. When did his promises become nothing but empty words?
“It’s okay.” I smiled, shrugging at him. “I can stop at Home Depot tomorrow and bring the ladder out and change it before the girls get out of school.”
He sighed and shook his head. “Come on, Nadia, it’s a little late for you to bust my balls, alright?” With a shake of his head, he headed inside. Obviously, the conversation was clearly over and he had no problem leaving me sitting stunned in the darkness. An ugly feeling I had been trying to beat back the last couple of months settled in the pit of my belly.
A feeling I had been trying to shake off for a while that had not wanted to be ignored, no matter how hard I tried. He’d been snapping at me. Growing further away. From me. From us.
Somewhere between having the twins and the last eight years, we had lost our way.
Not that I could blame him completely. I was just as guilty. I had lost my own path. What was it that people said? How can someone else love you if you don’t love yourself? Not that I don’t love myself. I just wasn’t sure who I was anymore.
Standing, I took a cleansing breath, slipping my feet into flip-flops, and walked into the house. Locking up the French doors behind me, setting the home alarm, hanging his suit jacket, finishing up the couple of dishes in the sink before heading upstairs.
When I reached our bedroom, Owen was already in bed, his hair wet from a shower, sitting with his iPad. From the color of the case, it was his work one. What a surprise.
“Hard day?” I asked in a soft voice, my eyes on him. He grunted his answer and shrugged, never once looking away from his fucking tablet to look at me. I had to blink tears away, tears that choked me while disappointment and something else flowed through me. Something that felt a lot like fear.
As a gifted plastic surgeon, Owen was highly sought after. I knew that. I admired him and was proud of every one of his accomplishments. I knew the dedication and hard work it took him to get where he was now. I knew because I had been by his side from our first day as freshmen at UCLA, to the day he graduated from medical school, through his residency. Celebrating every milestone in between and after.
Though now, I wasn’t sure he even wanted me around anymore.
Living in LA, he perfected the already perfect in Hollywood and those in the eye of the media. Not for the first time I wondered if he was tired of my imperfections. Not that he’d ever uttered a word to me. Not directly at least. He only did it
with snide remarks or what he thought were jokes.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts. His green eyes were on me, a look on his face I wasn’t familiar with. When had that happened? How could I not know what a look on Owen’s face meant? I used to know all his expressions and moods. Is there someone else out there who knows them better than me? Could there be someone else?
“What?” I pretended not to hear his question, swallowing the ugliness that kept rising from my gut and felt somehow attached to my heart. Something that left me feeling like I was choking and drowning all at once.
“What were you thinking about right now, Nadia?” he asked, tilting his head. I shook mine, giving him a fake smile I knew didn’t reach my eyes and sure as hell wasn’t real.
“What do you mean?”
“You looked like something was wrong,” he pointed out, and I wanted to roll my eyes.
“I’m surprised you noticed,” I let slip, and he frowned.
Shutting my eyes, I shook my head. It was late. We both had long days and it wasn’t the time. It’s never the right time for us to talk. Opening them, I looked at him and gave him a weak smile. “Nothing, Owen. I was just thinking about tomorrow.”
“Everything okay?” When he kept studying me, I wanted to yell that everything was not okay. I wanted to throw my arms in the air while I told him every little thing he had done in the past how many years that bothered me. I wanted to pick something up from my dresser and throw it at him. I wanted to see that he still gave a shit about me. About us. Instead, I shook my head and broke the tense silence between us.
“They changed Vivi’s practice, so now it falls on Becca’s. I can get Viv there a couple minutes early and she’ll be okay. I’m just thinking about how to manage pickups, since they get out at the same time,” I shared, which for some reason left me feeling like I was suddenly under a microscope. Like he was judging me.
His green eyes stood out against his ruggedly handsome face, and I couldn’t read him. It made me sad. There was a time when I only had to look at him and knew exactly what he was thinking. When was the last time I’d been able to see that? Know what he was thinking just by looking at him? It had been so long I couldn’t remember what it felt like.
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