Favorite Coffee, Favorite Sin (The Marshall Family Saga Book 3)
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Favorite Coffee, Favorite Sin
The Marshall Family Saga
Victoria Pinder
Love in a BOok
Contents
Copyright
Book Series
Join Victoria Pinder
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
Favorite Crush Preview
Favorite Mistake Preview
Favorite Scandal Preview
Also by Victoria Pinder
About the Author
Copyright
Favorite Coffee, Favorite Sin
Copyright©2017
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemble to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
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Published in the United States of America.
Copyright © 2017 Victoria Pinder Love in a Book
All rights reserved.
This book is dedicated to Michael Hauge and his amazing writing day. He helped me figure out how to write this book with his in depth questions. Calliope was more of a free spirit and confused me as a writer. The all day writing session Michael Hauge puts on helped me figure her out so I could finish this story.
Book Series
Please check out the entire series!
The Marshall Family Saga
Favorite Coffee, Favorite Crush
Favorite Coffee, Favorite Mistake
Favorite Coffee, Favorite Sin
Favorite Coffee, Favorite Scandal
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Chapter 1
"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the minister asked as they stood in the hotel ball room turned wedding ceremony.
Calliope Campbell swallowed as a cold shiver raced down her spine. The answer 'no' was on the tip of her tongue. She batted her fake eyelashes at her about-to-be husband as her Vera Wang wedding dress stifled her waist and made it hard to breathe. If she said yes then she'd be his wife, forever. Ten years of dating shouldn't make this a hard choice. Perspiration broke out on her spine as she stared at Chris Sommers, her soon-to-be husband. Rocks formed in her stomach. The air around her felt like it circled her throat and wanted to strangle her. Everyone stared at her. Despite the knot that grew in her throat, she answered, "I will."
The world spun around her. Why had she said that? Running down the aisle like a crazy woman only happened in the movies.
The minister seemed to not see how she shivered because he went on. "Is there anyone here who has just cause why these two should not be wed, let them speak now or forever hold your peace."
Silence surrounded her and it felt like she'd choke. The door rattled. She turned her head and dropped her hands from Chris's as the hotel ballroom doors flew open. Footsteps clanked on the floor, and Calliope’s gaze shifted to the brown-eyed woman who boldly walked down the aisle as her hands crossed her waist.
Chris's face went white as the dark-haired woman their age approached. The queasiness in Calliope’s stomach came from believing this was proof that Chris wasn't faithful. Part of her had guessed, but she lost the ability to breathe the second Chris said, "Roxanne."
Roxy. So this was she, clearly, and she wasn't his secretary. Not with that body. Not with Chris. This was it. Everything she’d thought was now proven. The past ten years of their relationship was not enough. Calliope clutched her bouquet of pink peonies that rattled in her hand as Roxanne said, "Christopher, I'm pregnant. Don't do this. I love you."
Calliope stepped away from Chris, just a fraction. For months she’d been drifting from him that now she felt there was a gorge between them. A black pit that made her realize she was saved. "What is he to you?"
Chris turned toward her and said, "Callie, Roxanne is the woman I slept with."
Another step backward. The ballroom felt huge and looming all around her. Why had she said yes? When the minister asked she should have said no.
She glanced into the crowd of friends and family. Everyone stared at her with eyes wide, filled with horror or compassion. She stood another step away from the man she was not about to marry. The aisle seemed a mile long, as her heart began to race. Her hands balled into fists around the flowers and she heard the stems crack.
"I knew something was up." Calliope took yet another step to leave and the space between them wasn't nearly big enough to be a rift. "I should have said no."
"Wait." Chris put his hand on her shoulder.
"No."
Marriage was supposed to be forever. Her parents had died together, and their bodies were found holding each other's hand. No. Love and a commitment meant this never should have happened. All those late nights he’d never worked in his life and how her text messages had gone unanswered. Everything now made sense. She shook his hand off and stepped off the altar in her blue Prada strappy heels. She made it to the first row of guests. Her mind went blank as she caught a whiff of cedarwood in the air that gave her a sense of calm. Chris called out behind her and her peace to breathe was lost. "Wait. Calliope, can we talk?"
"No. You love her. There is nothing else to say." She turned and pointed toward the dark-haired beauty whose hair practically radiated with bounce and texture from what must be a pregnancy glow. This was too much. Her neck heated as she thought about the years poured into this man who brought her to this hotel overlooking the Mexican Riveria and betrayed her. She batted away tears from her eyes and waited. It was stupid, but here she was. What could Chris possibly say now? This was why he insisted they leave for a vacation destination wedding when she had wanted to stay in Miami.
"Please. Talk to me."
Chris sounded like a boy and not a man. In school, they had started and shared good times, and the boy voice plucked at her heartstrings. Her face fell as she dropped her shoulders. Maybe there wasn't a valid reason for Roxanne interrupting her wedding. A baby could be lied about, but she doubted the crazy thought. This was reality.
Her heart felt like crying, which would lead to her own tears. Darn. Her face felt slightly wet, and she shouldn't have doubted her own ears. She clutched the flowers as a shield and turned into the crowd. The gasps echoed in her ears. "One m
inute and one only. Meet me in the bridal suite, alone."
Her gaze fell on her brother, and she silently pleaded with him to watch the door for her escape. Then she walked away from the altar, from the man she’d pinned her dreams on, from her future as Mrs. Sommers.
Everyone in the audience whispered, but none of them mattered. Her fiancé cheated on her, yet he’d brought her to this destination venue to marry her. The Mexican beach outside the bay windows on her right showed the sun was about to set for the evening reception. The red and yellow hues were supposed to make the cake cutting and first dance a magical moment.
None of that mattered now.
In a perfect world, this was to be the moment her happy-ever-after started. Instead she passed the blurry faces of guests and finally closed the door to the ballroom.
Outside the waitstaff shuffled as they turned to stare at her. Her face was hot. She gazed into the red carpeted hallway with the crystal chandelier at the place where her guests were to get a small appetizer while the hotel staff transformed the ballroom into the reception. The guests could enjoy the food without her. She picked up her dress and ran to the room that she’d used all day to get dressed.
It was too bad she was stuck. An airplane out would be impossible, but there was no way she should wake up and face anyone. She refused to cry or do anything that would make her look even more foolish than agreeing to the wedding in the first place. Why had she said yes and let everyone see that? Her head pounded with the question as she made her way to the other end of the ballroom and slipped open the side door.
The bridal suite still had her makeup and her clothes tossed around on the seats. She rushed inside and bolted the door behind her. Then she slammed her fists along with the flowers on the vanity next to her. The makeup tray shook a little. She shut her eyes and repeated out loud, “Today is a wonderful day.”
The quietness of the room that once buzzed with excited guests, like her college roommates Traci and Sharon, now echoed with stillness.
The door rattled. It must be Chris. The appointed moment was seconds away. A baby was proof that he’d cheated on her and she was done. She checked her face in the mirror and blotted her eyes to stop the tears. Again, she said, "Today is a wonderful day."
Lying to herself was clearly how she operated. A smile that might hide how she felt appeared in the mirror before her. Finally, she pushed her shoulders straight, opened the door, and the room filled with that moldy spice that Chris always wore. She backed away as she stared at him. Without one 'sorry,' he closed the door. The wedding dress made her feel weak. She hugged her waist, not caring that she bunched the white satin as she said, "Chris, Roxy is having your baby."
"I don't care. I love you."
No. Marriage for her was one man and one woman. If she had to die, like her mom and dad, she wanted to hold hands with someone who loved only her. Her pulse raced. This was wrong. Her hands curled into those fists again as she wobbled on her too-high-for-her shoes. "You love me too? Are you serious?"
"Calliope, we've been on and off since middle school."
If counting middle school, they’d been together for fifteen years, more than half of her life. She closed her eyes to think. Yes, it was the reason she said yes, but not a reason now. The line of argument worked only if there wasn't another woman. She lifted her chin as she opened her gaze and flatly said, "None of that matters anymore. We're not children."
"We never dated other people."
Ridiculous. Giving Chris a chance to talk was a mistake. She paced and gazed at the door. She should have stood closer to it so she could have stormed out. Mistakes were the order of her life, it seemed. This was enough. She pointed at him as her voice grew louder. "You dated two other women when we weren't together, but when I took you back the last time you swore you only loved me."
"Neither of them meant anything. I meant everything I said then."
Seriously? Without thinking, she picked up her bouquet and threw it at his face. Naturally she missed as it hit the opposite wall of her target and landed precariously on a planter stand, but the confusion helped her storm closer to the door. "So you don't get to continue dating if we're engaged. That's not how this works."
"You've always grounded me and kept me together."
Grounded. The bouquet toppled off the table and onto the floor. The flowers were dead, much like how she felt about Chris. This wasn't enough. The heat of Cozumel was hotter than Miami, and right now that fueled her. Her fisted hand covered her lips and nose as she stared at him. "This is my fault. We never should have come here."
"Calliope, I want to marry you."
Lies. Love meant giving up all others and being with just her for the rest of their lives. She knew better. The last year had been a mistake. Last summer she should have said no. This wasn't her fairy tale. She'd probably never get one. She shook her head. "What about Roxanne?"
"I don't know."
More minutes had passed in silence. Her face was dry now. Chris had nothing else to say. Someone knocked on the door and her brother called in, "Are you okay, Calliope?"
"I'm coming out in one minute." At least her brother had come to this farce of her life. It was the one good thing that happened this week. She massaged her temples and then tugged the diamond off her hand. "You don't get that chance anymore. Chris, I'm done."
His eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean done?"
"Take your ring." She wiggled it in front of his face, and he didn't move. She reached out, took his hand and dropped the ring in his palm. In that second, she felt lighter, like she was free. It was strange. She turned and realized there really was nothing else to say. She turned toward the door and then froze. She'd never been alone and had no idea how to exist outside of a relationship. This was the part of every movie where the heroine went on some major vacation and somehow met the love of her life, but the only vacation she had was this Mexican trip where she’d invited everyone she knew for the wedding.
None of this mattered in the moment. She swung open the door and glanced into the clear blue eyes of Michael Marshall, standing behind her brother Brandon. Her fingers wrapped around the doorknob as Chris called from behind, "Don't..."
No. For the last time, she turned her head. Her stomach churned. Why was she here? As she stared at Chris, she felt nothing but a sense of waste. There was no return. All the tears she’d shed from the moments he left her were her own stupidity. They’d been on again, off again so many times she could almost count on it like a national holiday. "Chris, go and be with your Roxanne or Jennifer or Maria or go off by yourself."
Her brother's knuckles cracked and the sound caught her attention.
"Calliope, you're my heart. Please forgive me."
Then she stared for a second at Michael, standing shoulder to shoulder with her brother, fists clenched, wearing a grim expression. Her face felt hot. If only she hadn't ditched Michael on their first almost date to return to Chris. The past few months where she spent wondering what it would be like if she’d chose Michael that night played on her nerves. Now he saw her like this. She turned toward Chris again and a calmness returned. "Things like this can't be fixed with broad sweeping statements."
As she closed the door behind her, she picked up the hem of her stupid white dress that she never should have put on. Brandon placed his hand on Michael's arm. "Can you get her out of the hotel?"
Michael's cedar scent sent a hunger through her that she didn't recognize. She ignored the feeling as she said, "I don't want to stay in this hotel tonight. Brandon, where should we go?"
Brandon nodded at her. "Michael isn't at this hotel. We booked you a room at his so you don't have to run into all the guests."
Perfect. While it wasn't her college friends, Traci and Sharon, Michael let her feel as peaceful and calm as possible while the world crashed at her feet. For right now, she'd ignore his bad boy reputation that under normal circumstances her brother would’ve disapprove of. Brandon pointed them away, and she
walked with Michael toward the main lobby. He raised his eyebrow. "Where are you going? The door is over there."
"I need my bag. My life is in the honeymoon suite."
"Fair enough." He watched Brandon go into the room with Chris. "Let's get your bag so we can get you out of here."
Her brother's heavy energy pierced the air as the door to the bridal suite slammed with the two men inside as they walked through the waiting area and toward the main lobby.
Seconds later, they were near other hotel guests and made their way toward bank of elevators that took guests to their rooms. Neither of them said anything as they waited, and finally elevator door opened in front of them. As she stepped in, Michael moved near the closing doors. "Okay, if you need to pack your bag, I'll make sure Chris doesn't come in and bother you."
"You are a true godsend, Michael." She leaned against the mirrored window in the gold painted elevator. In this small space, she realized that his cedar scent reminded her of a log cabin in the woods with a fire roasting as she came into the room where her parents were laughing. The memory of childhood hit her hard and fast. If she had a mother still, she might not have gotten to Mexico, let alone the altar.
Michael winked at her. "No one calls me that."
What had she said? She was so lost in her thoughts. Then she remembered she’d called him a godsend. As the door opened and the bell dinged, she let her shoulders relax. They walked into the hall, and she told him, "Just don't leave me... here."