His Heart

by Claire Kingsley

  Sebastian held my coat while I slipped my arms into the sleeves. “I rode with Charlie, so we have to walk home.”

  “That’s fine.” I pulled my hair out of the back and adjusted my necklace with the corncob charm. “It’s a beautiful night.”

  He held the door and I locked it behind us. The air was cool and the soft sounds of night spoke of a world at rest. A single car drove by while we walked, the hum of its engine fading as it left us behind. Sebastian’s hand clasped with mine was warm and comforting. We walked slowly down the sidewalk, beneath tall maple trees, their branches a canopy of green.

  Sebastian was quiet. I felt like he was thinking about something. He had a subtle sense of introspection, as if his thoughts were both here with us, and far away.

  We got home and he paused on the step in front of the door.

  He stood close, and without saying a word, he took my left hand and pressed it against his chest. His heart thumped against my palm, his hand so large it covered mine.

  “This heart is yours.” He leaned down so our foreheads touched. “It always was, and I’m grateful every day that it led me to you.”

  With his hand still holding mine against his heart, he reached into his pocket.

  “I was going to do this at the bookstore tonight, in front of everyone. It’s why I invited the Harpers here. I thought it would be perfect. A nice setting, with the people who care about you. But then I decided to wait. Because this isn’t for anyone else—just us.”

  My heart fluttered as he brought out a velvety gray box. The ring inside was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Three thin bands of gold wound around each other, almost like a vine, with a diamond in the center. The setting looked like a circle of tiny leaves.

  He took my hand from his heart and held it while he lowered himself onto one knee. I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure if it was to stop me from laughing or crying. I was on the verge of both.

  His eyes were intense and focused as he looked up at me. “Brooke, will you marry me?”

  “Yes.” I touched his face, slid my fingers along his beard. “Yes. I love you so much.”

  He slid the ring onto my finger and stood. His hands cupped my cheeks and his eyes held onto mine. “I love you, too. We both have a second chance at life, and I’m going to spend the rest of mine loving you.”

  Our lips came together in a breathtaking kiss. He wrapped his thick arms around me and pressed my body against his. I held him tight, losing myself in the feel of his mouth caressing mine.

  The space in my chest that had once felt so hollow was full. Full of love, and the life Sebastian had helped me rediscover.

  The life I was going to spend with him—loving him. A priceless gift and a second chance. One for which I would be forever grateful.

  Epilogue

  Two wrongs do not a right make

  but two sorrows

  come together

  to create something more

  something beautiful

  because love is the ultimate healer

  the righter of wrongs

  mender of woes

  fulfiller of dreams

  love makes all things possible

  it is breath, heat, and life

  creation and truth

  the answer to the ultimate question

  why are we here

  ~B

  Epilogue

  Brooke

  Sebastian held my hand as we walked down the long path. The sun was warm on my skin and I adjusted my sunglasses against the glare. It had been years since I’d lived in Arizona, and the warm weather in December seemed so foreign. But after the early snowstorm we’d left behind in Iowa, the desert heat was a nice change.

  After an intimate wedding in Iowa, we’d moved to Virginia for two years while we finished school. Then we’d done something crazy—even crazier than when I’d decided to move to Iowa with two strangers. We’d sold everything we owned, except what we could carry, bought two plane tickets to Europe, and left.

  We spent thirteen months seeing the world. In Europe, we marveled at feats of architecture—everything from ancient Roman aqueducts to Gothic cathedrals to sleek modern skyscrapers. In Asia, we ate octopus and spicy peppers that left our mouths burning for days. Saw museums and temples. We took surfing lessons in South America. Walked through the Amazon jungle with a guide we were pretty sure was just as likely to feed us to a large snake as bring us back to civilization.

  We slept in plush hotels, quaint bed and breakfasts, places with bug nets over the bed, and one shack on a beach that had no walls, but was so isolated, it didn’t need any. We lived off savings, the last of Sebastian’s college fund, and the money I earned as a travel writer for an online magazine.

  When we returned to the States, there were still a hundred places we wanted to go. At least. But by then, we were ready for our next adventure. Something a little closer to home.

  Sebastian got a job with an architecture firm in Iowa City. He’d applied for jobs in various places. Chicago, Austin, Miami. Seattle. But we both felt Iowa calling us back. We wanted to be near family and friends, and everyone we loved was there. Sebastian’s parents still lived in his childhood home in Waverly. Charlie and Olivia had settled in Iowa City. Their daughter, Liliana, was born just two weeks after we got back. Even Brian and Mary Harper were there. They’d relocated to be near Olivia and Charlie.

  We bought a pretty house in a neighborhood we both liked, not far from Charlie and Olivia. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable. We decorated it with treasures we’d collected in our travels. Art, books, vases, bowls, statues. A big decorative map hung in our living room, with the places we’d visited marked in gold.

  Our house represented something so much more than just a roof over our heads. It was a home. A place that was safe and secure. A place where we could put down roots, and build our life together.

  A place to raise our son.

  I rested my hand on my belly as we walked. I had another eight weeks—give or take—before he’d be born, but it was hard to imagine him getting any bigger. I already felt enormous.

  Of course, looking at the man I’d married, if our son took after him, he was bound to be big.

  “I think it’s over there,” Sebastian said, pointing ahead of us.

  We walked onto the grass and found what we were looking for. Liam’s grave.

  I’d only been here once, for his funeral. His family had bought a beautiful headstone, with his name etched in large letters. Liam Edward Harper. Below, it read Beloved Son, with the dates of his birth and death. He’d been two months away from turning twenty.

  I put the bouquet of flowers I’d brought next to the headstone.

  Sebastian rubbed slow circles across my back. “Do you need a minute alone?”

  I nodded, and he walked a short distance away.

  How you doing, Bee?

  “I’m really good. Maybe you know that already. I like to think you can see me, but I don’t really know.” The baby kicked and I rubbed my belly. “I’ve been to some of the places we put on our map. A lot of them, actually. They were amazing. We came back to the States, and Sebastian and I live in Iowa, now. We have a nice house. And we’re having a baby.”

  I paused, a sudden rush of emotion making my eyes sting and my throat feel thick.

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t stay.” A few tears ran down my cheeks. “But even though you didn’t have a lot of time, your life meant so much. So, thank you. Thank you for the time we had. For asking me to that dance. For being my friend—and my family when I didn’t have anyone else. And thank you, so much, for the gifts you gave when you left us. Your death meant life and healing for others. If this is the way things had to be, it couldn’t have had a happier ending.”

  I stood for a minute, just breathing. Feeling.

  Wiping my eyes, I stepped away. Took a deep breath. Sebastian came back and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, cradling me next to him.

  “You okay?” he asked, his
voice gentle.

  “Yes,” I said, and I meant it. “It’s still sad, but I’m glad we came. It feels right.”

  “It does to me, too,” he said. “Can I have a minute?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said.

  I wandered away while Sebastian stood in front of Liam’s grave. The baby rolled and poked me with his arms and legs. He was an active little thing. I had a feeling we were going to have our hands full.

  After a few minutes, Sebastian turned and nodded. I joined him, slipping my hand into his. He touched my belly and kissed the top of my head.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  My heart was full of emotion as we walked back to our rental car, although I wasn’t sad. I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Liam had been a bright spot in the life of a girl who’d known too much darkness. But he hadn’t been the love of my life.

  That was Sebastian.

  He was my best friend. My soulmate. The man I loved with everything I had. His love wasn’t a crutch for me to lean on. It was a fire that fed the flame inside of me. We loved each other, believed in each other, and supported each other. We walked side-by-side down the path we had chosen, secure in the bond we had forged.

  Sebastian was quiet as we walked. I wondered what he’d said to Liam, but I didn’t ask. If he wanted to tell me, he would. But maybe it was something between them—something he didn’t need to share.

  We drove back into Phoenix and found a restaurant near our hotel. We’d come down for a few days, mostly to visit Liam’s grave. I’d felt like I needed to. Like I needed a moment of closure. And with a baby coming soon, it was easier to come now. Two adults traveling was one thing—we were experts at that. But traveling with a baby was going to be a whole new ballgame.

  The restaurant was quiet, and the waitress brought our dinners. I was starving—but I was pretty much always hungry lately. When we’d finished about half our meal, Sebastian put his fork down and looked me in the eyes.

  “I thanked him for giving me his heart,” he said. “For saving my life. And I thanked him for loving you. He was in your life at a time when you needed him, and I’m really glad he was there. I’m glad it was him.”

  I took a deep breath. “Me too.”

  He reached across the table and took my hand. Brought it to his lips for a kiss.

  “I was thinking about something else while we were there.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “What we should name our baby,” he said. “In fact, I’m surprised we didn’t come up with this sooner.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. We’d been going back and forth on names ever since we found out we were having a boy. I was beginning to think we’d never agree. “Seb, we’re not naming him Blade. Or Ranger. Or Steel.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Those names are badass. I’m keeping them on the list for future children. But no, that’s not what I’m thinking.”

  “Okay, what are you thinking?”

  He smiled, his green and brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “His name is Liam.”

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  Book Boyfriend: Chapter 1

  Alex

  Sometimes in life we all have moments when we realize we screwed up so badly, there’s no way out.

  I’m having one of those moments.

  Mia is staring at me, wide-eyed, like I just told her I murdered her mother. I didn’t, for the record. But the book she’s holding falls from her limp hand, and her mouth moves like she’s trying to find something to say. The depth of the trouble I’m in is starting to hit me.

  This is going to be bad.

  “Are you serious?” she asks. “You aren’t serious. How? No. You can’t be.”

  “I am.” Damn it, this is not how I wanted to tell her. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been planning on telling you. I wanted to tell you. It just never seemed like the right time, and when it did seem right, things kept happening.”

  She looks at the floor, her head slowly shaking from side to side. I’m panicking, trying to come up with the right thing to say. Is there a right thing to say when you’ve been lying to the woman you’re in love with? If there is, I don’t know what it is.

  “Oh my god,” she says, stepping away from me. “Oh my god. I’ve been… and you were… this whole time… and it was… Lexi was you?”

  “Yes, Lexi was me.”

  “Holy shit.” She puts her hand on her stomach, like she might vomit. “I’ve been telling you things—things about you. And you’ve been using that, haven’t you? You’ve been manipulating me this whole time.”

  “No,” I say, putting up a hand. “No, Mia, I swear it wasn’t like that.”

  “How can you say that?” she asks. “Oh god, it started in the bookstore. Can I buy you books? I told Lexi I wished a guy would do that, and you used it on me. You picked me up with my own line.”

  “No. God, Mia, I didn’t know who you were then. I just thought you were cute and it seemed like a good idea.”

  “When did you know?” she asks, finally looking me in the eyes.

  I stare at her, suddenly unable to speak. All my logic, all the decisions that seemed perfectly reasonable up until this moment come crashing down around me. The proverbial house of cards.

  I really fucked this up.

  “Alex, when did you find out who I was?”

  “After we had dinner at Lift,” I say, reluctantly. “You messaged Lexi and talked about your date. I knew it had to be me.”

  She gapes at me, her mouth dropping open, her eyes widening.

  Yep. I’m screwed.

  “How could you keep this from me?”

  “The only person who knows is my sister,” I say. “I kept it a secret from everybody else.”

  “Yeah? Well, you aren’t sleeping with everybody else,” she says.

  I wince. “Mia, please. I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

  “Of course you meant to,” she says. “Lying doesn’t happen by accident.”

  “No, but I wanted to tell you,” I say. “I swear, I was going to.”

  She meets my eyes and crosses her arms. “But you didn’t. Why?”

  Okay, maybe I should back up and explain why I’m standing in front of the love of my life, trying to make her understand how I’m also a woman named Lexi Logan.

  Confused?

  Yeah, me too.

  It all started a little over a year ago. I know, that’s a big jump, and you want to get to the good stuff. The boy meets girl, they fall in love, have hot monkey sex, are pulled apart by conflict, and come back together for a brilliant happily-ever-after stuff. Believe me, I’m all too familiar with that story.

  In fact, I write them for a living.

  A year ago, that wasn’t me. Five days a week, I was schlepping off to my job, sitting in a dull gray cubicle, staring at a screen, writing computer code. I had a shitty uncomfortable chair, a boss who needed a throat punch, and a bunch of coworkers who were stuck in just as deep a rut as I was.

  But in my spare time, I was writing a science fiction novel. I spent hours doing research, taking notes, drawing sketches. I would work late into the night, plodding away, word after word. The book kept getting longer, but I figured I would deal with that when I started revisions. Or maybe make it a trilogy. I certainly had enough material. More often than not, the sun would be staining the sky with color, and my eyes dry and gritty, before I’d finally fall into bed for a couple hours.

  Only to get up and go to my shitty job.

  To be fair, the
sleep deprivation was probably not helping my attitude toward work.

  I’d wanted to be a novelist ever since I was a kid. I almost majored in English, but my dad, ever a practical man, talked me into getting a computer science degree in case the writing thing didn’t work out. The problem is, that practical degree led to a practical career, which led to the soul-sucking existence I was wallowing in.

  I didn’t see a way out. My job sucked. I was divorced, after a very brief and tumultuous marriage. My relationship status was basically I love women but I’m not interested in commitment. All I had was my writing.

  But as much as I enjoyed the process, I knew deep down that it was more of a hobby than a career, at least the way I was doing it. Even if the finished product—if I ever finished it—turned out to be the best sci-fi epic ever written, it would take a stroke of luck to get it published and make enough money to quit my job. And considering I’d been working on it for years already, with no end in sight, it didn’t seem like I was going to write my way to a better life.

  Until my sister, Kendra, said something that altered the course of my life forever.

  Keep reading Book Boyfriend

  Afterword

  Organ donation saves lives.

  In 2017, 116,000 men, women, and children in the United States alone were on the national transplant waiting list.

  Twenty people die every day waiting for a transplant.

  Every ten minutes, another person is added to the waiting list.

  Ninety-five percent of American adults support organ donation, but only fifty-four percent are organ donors.

  One donor can save up to eight lives.

  Please consider registering as an organ donor. And make your wishes known to your family and loved ones.