Please let him wait for me.
—
Samira and I pull into the skating rink’s parking lot just after six.
“Good luck!” Samira calls out before I slam the door. I run toward the skate shack, and rent a pair in my size.
This particular outdoor rink is in the shape of an oval ring, with trees on the inside and outside of the ring. Finding a bench nestled into the tree line, I quickly lace my skates up and stand on the rubber mat.
Holy crap. I’m actually standing. Why do people make such a big deal about skating being hard? I bet I’m a natural. I take a step toward the ice.
Ouch! Son of a bitch, these things pinch!
Okay. Don’t lose focus here. It’s not like I haven’t worn uncomfortable shoes. I’m still standing, which is the main thing. Yup. This is going to be a piece of cake. All I need to do now is find Brett. If he’s here, I know it’s all going to be okay.
This is going to be perfect.
—
This is definitely not perfect.
“OOOPFF!” I grunt, falling for the fifteenth time in two minutes.
People whiz by, hair and scarves whipping behind them, their skates leaving smooth scars in the ice.
Show-offs.
I stand up and try again. And immediately lose balance.
“Fuuuuuu—”
An idyllic family of four skates by just then, the parents shooting me dirty looks.
“Fun!” I say, wincing as my hip smashes into the ice.
What idiot invented this, anyway? At some point in history, there must have been some guy who said, “You see the ice out there? I’m going to strap some sharp, narrow bits of metal onto my shoes and, you know, slide around.”
His friends probably nodded, and quietly backed away.
“Hans has lost it,” they no doubt muttered amongst themselves.
I try standing again, and somehow manage to stay upright. So long as no one touches me or causes a strong breeze while passing by, I’ll be okay.
I try to look over the crowd of people, searching for Brett’s face. I’m more than an hour late. What if he already went home? What if he didn’t show up at all?
All of these little families and cute couples fly past me, reminding me of what I could have had, but was stupid enough to push away.
I shuffle a couple of feet forward, never lifting my skates off the ice.
Sandy blond hair flashes across the rink. His profile, etched in my dreams every night, is unmistakable. My face erupts in a face-splitting grin.
He’s here!
“Brett!” I shout, waving wildly.
He doesn’t turn, so I shout even louder. “BRETT!”
Shiny brunette hair pops up beside him. An arm of a pristine white coat snakes around his waist.
Emmie.
The butterflies in my stomach form into a hard rock, and die.
I’ve got to get out of here. Now.
I whip around, forcing my body against the flow of traffic. I should have known Emmie would sink her claws into him somehow.
“Ugh!” I screech. I get a few weird looks.
How could I have been so stupid? Thinking that he’d wait for me?
The bench in the tree line is visible. At last! My sanctuary. I can take off these stupid skates, and go home to lick my wounds. I’m nearly there when a large man with a caveman physique barges past me. I fall onto the ice like a sack of hammers.
“Watch where you’re going!” he yells.
This is the worst fall yet. I think I just broke my ischial tuberosity.
Or, as I like to call it, my ass bone.
My hands are outstretched behind me, fingers splayed to help myself stand up. Shiny metal blades zip past me on all sides, nearly clipping my fingers. I brush my ice-slushed hands on my pants.
What was I thinking? I should have never come here.
I should have never let him go.
“Sophie?”
Brett towers above me, Christmas lights shining through his hair.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” he says.
Emmie stands beside him, hands on hips and lips pursed.
“What’s she doing here?”
Brett offers his gloved hand, and yanks me up. My eyes flit to the tree line, the bench, my skates. Anywhere but his face.
“I was just going,” I mutter. “Excuse me.”
“Soph! Wait a minute!”
“No, I won’t keep you. It looks like you have company.”
Emmie sticks out her chin, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Brett glides to my side. Oh my goodness, is he skating backward?
“Is there anything you’re not good at?” I yell.
His eyes open wide.
“Is that really why you came here tonight? To shout at me about my skating?”
“No!”
“Then why are you here?”
I stumble onto the rubber mat by the park bench, relishing the solid, nonslip surface. I slump onto the bench, holding my face in my hands.
“Because I thought it might mean something if you were here too.”
The bench shifts beside me. “I hoped you’d be here too.”
I glance up at him. “Really?”
“Really.”
“What about your, um, friend?” I ask.
“She showed up for the festival, and she saw me here. Nothing’s going on, I swear.”
“Then why did she have her arm wrapped around you?”
“She said she was having trouble standing up.”
I roll my eyes. “Uh-huh. Sure she did.”
“That’s what she said! Soph, I honestly don’t even like her. She’s clingy, whiny, and way too aggressive. I feel like she’s stalking me. I don’t even know how she found out I’d be here tonight.”
“What?” I hear Emmie screech. “You’re more interested in this badly dressed—”
“Hey! This coat is Ralph Lauren!”
“—dull, emo wannabe freak—”
“Ugh! For the millionth time, it was a henna accident!”
“—than me?”
Emmie gestures to her svelte, designer-encased body.
Brett pauses for a second, never taking his eyes off me.
“Yup.”
She stomps off (well, as best she can while wearing these contemptible death traps), screaming “Argh!” and “Get the hell out of my way!”
Brett and I sneak a look at each other. He snorts first. I fall into a fit of giggles.
That was perhaps the funniest thing ever.
And, most gratifying. The man I love isn’t interested in the vilest girl in the world. Which is a good thing.
Worry lines crease his forehead. He pushes his fingers against his lips, searching for the right words.
“I was so afraid you wouldn’t be here,” I begin.
“I almost didn’t come,” he admits. “But, on the off chance that you still might show up…” His eyes dart to his watch. “Took you long enough, though.”
“We were stuck in traffic.”
“Traffic? You live ten minutes away from here.”
“Sam and I were on the north side.”
His face twists. “Why?”
I take a deep breath. Where do I even begin?
“I was saying goodbye. To Aaron.”
He puffs out his cheeks and exhales slowly. “So, what does that mean?”
“It means that I’ve come to terms with it, as best I can. With what happened. And decided to let it go.”
Brett’s lips pull sideways.
“It couldn’t have been that easy. You were so messed up about him, Sophie. Just a month ago, you had his picture out beside mine, comparing us.”
My high spirits sag.
He shakes his head. “How can I ever be sure that you’re mine? As much as I want to say yes, to start over, I’m not sure that I’ll ever be enough for you. I don’t want to be your consolation prize.”
I grab his hands and stare
at him. He looks back, eyes shining.
“Do you know that I think about us being old together?” I say.
The corners of his lips quirk up a little.
“I think about you and I doing dishes, where we’ll live, how many grandkids we’ll have. When I think about all of the things I want to do and see in my life, I always picture you being there with me. Through the good and the bad. You’re the first person I think of when I wake up, and the last person I see as I fall asleep. You’re in my dreams every night.”
I take a breath. “Stalker,” I mutter, and he laughs.
“For years, I’ve felt so lost, always wanting more, or wanting what I didn’t have. But I realize now that when I’m with you, I have everything I need. Believe me when I say that you are enough.”
I lift his hand to my lips. “More than enough.”
Brett doesn’t say a word. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips; his forehead is lined in concentration. He’s been quiet too long.
He quietly removes his skates and retrieves his boots from a rack behind the bench. His movements are too precise, too mechanical.
“Brett? Are you okay?”
He stands in front of me, then swiftly scoops me into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you home. With me.”
“But what about the skates? They’re rentals!” I say, my feet bobbing up and down midair. But even as I protest, I burrow into his chest, hoping I never, ever have to leave.
“Don’t care.”
“And my boots?” I giggle, pointing back at the boot rack.
“I’ll buy you ten pairs of boots if I have to. I just want you in my bed. Now.”
“In bed?” I squeak. “Are you dropping the no-sex rule?”
Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
He quirks up an eyebrow.
“Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”
I take his face in my hands, and kiss him. A slow, romantic kiss, my lips discovering again just how wonderful it is to be pressed up against his.
“I love you, Sophie,” he murmurs against my neck.
“I love you too, Brett.”
And this time, I say it with my whole heart.
Epilogue
Aftermath
It’s spring. Brett and I are walking hand in hand through Hawrelak Park. Flowers are in bloom, the air buzzing with new life.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” I say, squinting at him through the bright sunlight.
“Hmm. Not as beautiful as you,” he says, while pinching my butt. I slap him away with mock indignation. Although I’m secretly thrilled. He seems to love my butt as much as I love his. A match made in heaven, if ever I saw one.
“Want to walk to the lake?” he asks, swinging my hand in his. “For old times’ sake?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
Has it really been almost a year since I first met him there? Him looking every bit the scrumptious, muscular construction company worker (err, owner—whatever), and singing along to every Rolling Stones song the band ever sang, me staring and drooling quietly in the corner?
He didn’t seem to mind the staring. Or the drooling.
How did I ever get so lucky?
In the distance, I see a young couple standing by the lake. From this far away, it’s hard to tell, but the man looks familiar. I slap a hand over my mouth.
“What?” Brett asks.
“That’s Joel.”
He sniggers. “The one with the hard-on for Barbie?”
“The one and only.”
He grins widely. “I’ve gotta meet this guy.”
“No!” I laugh, pulling his arm away. “It looks like they’re, um, busy.”
Our eyes automatically flit back to Joel and his companion, who is dressed in a short, tight pink minidress. They shamelessly paw at each other, a flying mess of hands, hair, and audible groans.
“Oh my God! Are they dry-humping? In public?” Brett asks.
“I bet it isn’t so dry…” I mutter. Brett lets out a loud guffaw, and ends up distracting Joel and his companion.
Joel squints at us. “Sophie?”
“Shit,” I whisper. “Hi, Joel!” I call back brightly. “Long time no see!”
He walks toward me, and surprises me with a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Soph. I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend.”
He pulls the lady close to his side. Tall. Platinum blond. Enormous breasts. Eyes that would make an anime artist jizz in his pants.
He juts his chin out proudly. “This is Dolly.”
Brett grunts, and I discreetly elbow him in the ribs.
“Lovely to meet you, Dolly,” I say. “This is my boyfriend, Brett.”
The guys shake hands.
“Joel,” Joel says, explaining who he is (because I apparently suck at introductions). “Nice to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, Joel. I’ve heard wonderful things,” Brett says.
Joel nods. “Well, we’d better move on. Dolly and I have a date tonight.”
“Atta boy,” Brett commends. “Taking your girl out for a night on the town, eh?”
Dolly giggles. “Oh, yes. First we’re going to McDonald’s, and then to Build-a- Bear. I just love Build-a-Bear.”
I just may die of laughter. Suppose it’s a good way to go, if I had to choose.
I manage to squeak out a quick, “Bye Joel,” and then usher Brett and me to the other side of the lake (it’s more of a pond really) so we can giggle out of hearing range.
“Well, that was weird,” Brett says, while lying flat on the grass. I’m lying beside him, staring up at the clouds.
Brett leans up on his elbow and looks down at me. He fiddles with my hair.
“Have I told you how sexy you look with your new haircut?”
“About a million times,” I reply, smiling.
It’s grown out enough that I now have a short, blond bob. I left about an inch of red on the ends. It’s pretty kickass.
My thoughts return to Joel and Dolly.
“I’m happy for Joel. He has a real-life Barbie to play with now. Suppose there’s someone for everyone.”
Brett walks his fingers onto my collarbone.
“Would you want to be my someone?”
I stretch, warm and relaxed as a cat.
“I thought I already was.”
He sits up, and gently pulls me up with him. He reaches into his jacket and takes out a small velvet box.
With the sun shining down on us, in the middle of a very public park, where we first met, Brett gets down on one knee.
My lungs just stopped working. This is not a drill, folks; I repeat, this is not a drill!
“Sophie,” he begins, “I started falling in love with you on the night we met, and have never stopped.”
Happy tears spring in my eyes. My head starts nodding convulsively.
Why the heck am I nodding?
“You have my whole heart, and if I can make you half as happy as you’ve made me, I’ll consider myself a lucky man.”
He opens the lid. Inside the box, an emerald engagement ring catches the sunlight.
“Oh, Brett, it’s exquisite,” I breathe.
He slips it onto my left ring finger.
“Just like you.”
I brush away happy tears. He holds my hands. I can feel him shaking.
“Sophie Richards, will you marry me?”
A flash of movement in the bush beside us captures my eye. It’s a small brown bird. It looks just like the one I saw last winter, when I went back to the clearing with my red balloon. It starts chirping happily, that same happy tune that gave me the courage to say goodbye. Maybe it’s Aaron’s way of saying, “Go on. It’s okay.”
I smile through blurry eyes. I was a broken person before I met Brett. And with him, I discovered I could love again. How could I answer any other way?
“Yes.”
He kisses me, and I know that I’m exactly where I’m m
eant to be.
For Chad.
Forever and ever, Babe.
Acknowledgments
First off, I want to thank my editor, Sue Grimshaw, for taking a chance on me. I’ve always dreamed of having my books published one day. Thank you for making my dreams come true!
Thanks to the fantastic team at Random House and Loveswept. I’m blown away at how much hard work you’ve put into my book. Thank you for being so wonderful and welcoming.
Many thanks to Chad, my love, my best friend, and my personal cheerleader. You told me to keep going, even when I thought my writing was horrible and I was tempted again and again to just garbage the whole project. Thank you for your constant support, friendship, and unconditional love.
Sorry for spending so much time with my fantasy guys. I imagined you the whole time, I promise.
(P.S.—I’m secretly thrilled that I have you reading romance now!)
Chris Jenkins, who lent me her Rolling Stones Greatest Hits CD when I was a teenager. I think I listened to “Paint It Black” and “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” about a million times. Without the Stones’ music, this book wouldn’t exist!
Janic Gorayeb from the Brain Tumor Foundation of Canada. Despite my nursing background, I had no idea how complex a subject brain cancer was. Thank you for taking the time to discuss the various types of brain tumors with me. Your input was invaluable.
Stephanie Pegler, my editor at Chicklit Club. Thank you giving me the opportunity to do something I love: read books and give my opinion on them. Thank you for being one of my first readers, for encouraging me, and for being someone I could share my publishing journey with. I wouldn’t be here without you, Steph!
Amber, Christina, Jenna, Mary, and Joanna for being my first readers.
God, for providing all of these opportunities along the way. I’m so grateful.
And thank you, reader! I truly hope you enjoy my book.
Lots of love,
Chelsey
PHOTO: © RHONDA KRAUSE OF RHONDA KRAUSE PHOTOGRAPHY
CHELSEY KRAUSE has been a nurse since 2009, and has worked in various health care settings such as doctors’ offices, long-term care, acute care, and obesity management. An article she wrote on intercultural nursing has been published in a nursing anthology. She is also a book reviewer for Chicklit Club. Chelsey lives in Canada with her husband and two children. She enjoys shopping at thrift stores, repurposing old junk, and learning new belly dance moves. Chelsey absolutely loves books, and would live at her local library if they’d let her. Can’t Always Get What You Want is her first novel.
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