This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination, or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2017 by Madison Diaz
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
To the fantasy of romance
Thank you to my friends and family for support
Chapter One
Emilia
Letting out a heavy sigh, I knocked on Mrs. Petterman's door which was two floors below my family's condo. The two dogs attached to my harness sat like good boys, staring at the closed door, while we waited for my first dog-walking customer to answer.
Single-handedly, she had started my business for me. Wait, was it considered a business? Well, whatever it was, she was the first to request my services. A good four years had passed since she originally asked me to watch her dog for the first time.
Her husband died before I met her, so I’d always known her to live alone. Her son visited a lot, but he lived downtown, and when she got old, she didn't like leaving the apartment as often anymore. Dexter still needed to be walked, so I offered my services.
When she bragged about me to the other residents in the building, they asked if I didn't mind making extra money. Now, here I was, walking four to six dogs almost every day of the week, and I loved it.
I knocked a second time, thinking she'd been in the bathroom when I knocked the first time. The door to the condo on the left opened and I froze. I knew exactly who it was. Well, I didn't know his name or anything, but I knew his face and I knew his apartment.
My eyes stayed focused on Mrs. Petterman's door while I heard the rustling of keys then the securing of the lock. Peeking over, I caught a glimpse of him as he stuffed his keys into his pocket and checked his watch.
Gorgeous. I never got tired of seeing his beautifully sculpted face. His jaw was strong as he frowned at the time. His cheekbones were prominent, making his whole face look like a work of art. His lips were full and always looked so soft.
He glanced at me with those soft blue eyes, causing me to almost melt right there in the hallway. His eyes had slight wrinkles at the edges, and his light brown hair had a few obvious grays, warning me of his age. His head tilted as he gave me that same `good afternoon' nod he gave me every Thursday afternoon. Why, oh why, was it only Thursdays?
He had on a suit. He always wore suits. He had to have a good job. Late at night, my imagination ran wild with different fantasies over the last two years. I saw him as a sexy lawyer or a sexy businessman or even a sexy banker. The guy is sexy, okay?
My breath caught as I tried to say something, anything, to get this man to talk to me. Our eyes disconnected as he brushed past me and down the hall to the elevators. I watched him go before Mrs. Petterman finally opened her door.
Standing in front of me was a tiny old woman in the same house robe she wore most days, unless her son came to visit. I was a little jealous, wishing I could spend most of my days without a bra. We couldn’t all be so lucky.
She smiled as she assessed me, "Mia! Good to see you, honey. Come in for a minute?" She stepped back, leaving the door wide open.
I stepped in, the dogs followed. They were anxious as they attempted to scout the area, mark their territory, whatever. I stopped them and commanded they sit, offering treats as a last resort.
Mrs. Petterman disappeared down the hallway, to grab Dexter I assumed. So I stayed in the foyer, taking in the living room, left unchanged even after so many years. Her checkbook was in her hands when she returned. "I have a desperate favor to ask, but I'll pay you for your time."
I nodded, excited for the opportunity to make extra money. Not like I desperately needed it or anything… just nice to have. "Yes, ma'am. What is it?"
She smiled apologetically then let out a nervous sigh. "Could you watch Dexter and Jasper for me? My son, you know him, surprised me with tickets to Hawaii over Christmas and New Years.” Before I could agree, she continued on, “I know it's a lot to ask, but I have WiFi here now so-"
I interrupted her, not needing the rest of the details or excuses. I didn't mind helping her out. She never left the house, much less went on vacation. I could do her this favor. "You got it."
She blinked, surprised, then gave me this bright smile. Who knew an old widow could smile this much? "You are a lifesaver. Thank you so much!"
"It’s really no problem, Mrs. Petterman." I forced a smile, wondering how I would explain this to my dad. I wanted to help her, so I couldn’t say no. She had no one else to ask. Dad would just have to deal. "When?"
She beamed. "Not this Friday. Next Friday."
I nodded. "Okay, sounds good. I'll be here." We stared at each other. The dogs were starting to get antsy, pulling at their leashes. "Well, I should get the dogs out on that walk."
She nodded then called for Dexter. He ran in then jumped when he saw the leash. She fastened it to his collar, insisting on doing it herself each time. After attaching him to my harness, I lead the dogs out of the condo and down the hallway.
The elevator doors opened on the third floor. The woman waiting jumped back at the sight of Dane, my big German Shepherd. Her eyes darted to mine before she shook her head, disgusted. Shrugging, I pushed the `door closed' button. Some people got terrified around dogs, especially big ones. Which was weird since little dogs were the ankle biters and barkers.
Bobby, the security guard behind the desk smiled and waved as I strolled through the lobby. Waving back, I rushed outside to avoid encountering anyone else who might be scared of dogs.
The sun was bright. My hand flew to cover my eyes. Heat waves bounced off the concrete throughout the parking lot. My sunglasses found their way from my fanny pack onto my face.
We trekked for two blocks, arriving at the boardwalk on the beach. There were more people out than usual since winter vacation started. Miami Beach High school kids skateboarded and hung out around this area. Staring straight ahead with my `resting bitch face,' I passed them, hoping no one would recognize me. It wasn’t like I’d gone to MBHS for very long, but someone could have recognized me from middle school, so it was best to just avoid eye contact.
Grabbing the water bottle from my harness, I took a few gulps. We approached one of my favorite parts of the trail, so I ventured off into the sand. Most of my belongings had never-ending sand in them, especially my sneakers. I didn't mind a little more.
The dogs sniffed around, peeing on a bush or squatting to poop in the grass. I grabbed a few of my bags and cleaned the area up then germ-xed the crap out of my hands.
Looking out across the ocean where the sun shone so bright, I smiled, taking in the beauty of it all. Paradise. I lived in paradise.
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The ground beef heating up in the pan was making my mouth water. When I was twelve, my parents decided it would be a good idea for me to learn the art of cooking. Dad assigned me Fridays to make dinner for the family, and spaghetti was one of the first things he taught me. I worked hard on the simple recipe for a few weeks, adding different spices and ingredients here and there until one day he admitted I made it better than he could. That day, and six years later, we considered it my signature dish.
Well, I didn't make it that often anymore. We stopped eating together once my parents got busier. Dad’s promotion. Mom's growing business. Clustered schedules made it impossible for us to actually sit down together for a meal.
Today was special, though. Today was for me. I wanted Spaghetti and a sit-down dinner with my parents. I missed them.
Dane sat at attention in the kitchen doorway. He wasn't supposed to beg, but that didn't stop him from watching at a distance.
Giving in to how cute he was with his big desperate eyes, I threw a piece of meat, and he licked it up off the ground. My own living vacuum.
The front door burst open. Mom stormed in, phone in hand, arguing with somebody about something. Slamming the door behind her, she headed straight to their bedroom.
I lowered the temperature on the meat, trying not to notice her outburst as I added the marinara sauce. Dinner was ready.
The front door opened again, calmer this time, and my dad appeared in the foyer. His hair was all disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it. He placed his briefcase on the side table and straightened his glasses before he noticed me with that warm smile of his. "Hey, baby. Whatcha makin'?" He hung his jacket up on the rack then joined me in the kitchen.
He had eyes. He knew what I was making, but I decided to tell him anyway. "Spaghetti." A shy smile found its way over my lips. "We haven't had it in a while."
He licked his lips as he peered at the stove top. "Mmm, sounds good." Leaning over, he placed a hand on the small of my back and kissed my cheek. "Good day? Enjoying the break from school?"
I nodded, excited to have a moment between us, then opened my mouth to go on, but their bedroom door opened. Mom was frazzled as she made eye contact with Dad. Whatever was going on had her angrier than I’d seen in awhile. "Kevin, we need to talk about your mother right now.” Her gaze fell over me for just a moment before dashing back to my father. “In private."
A million apologies poured into my father's eyes as he glanced at me. I shrugged, giving him the okay to tend to my dramatic mother. I knew we'd get a chance to talk later. His hand gripped my arm for a moment before he turned, leaving me alone in the kitchen. "What's going on?"
"She's lost her fucking mind. I-" They disappeared into the bedroom and closed the door. I could hear my mother's muffled voice as she complained about my grandma. They never got along, and Dad was always caught in the middle, never taking one side or the other. That always pissed them off.
Waiting for my mom's dramatics to die down, I turned off all the burners. Dane laid in the living room beyond the doorway and stared at me. He hated it when they fought, too.
My stomach growled like crazy, so I grabbed a few crackers, scooping up a little meat with sauce before taking a bite. Five crackers later, they returned. Dad looked annoyed, Mom was still fuming. The best I could do was ignore everything with a positive attitude.
Mom noticed me for what felt like the first time today and her face softened. She strutted into the kitchen with that sense of ownership she applied to everything in her life. "Thanks for dinner. Looks great." She wrapped an arm around me and kissed my cheek. "Sit. We'll serve you, okay?"
Forcing a smile, I gave a quick nod before going into the dining room. Mom felt guilty when I took over any household duty. She still saw me as a kid who should be living a carefree life and staying the hell out of her kitchen. I couldn't ignore how stressed and busy they both were, so I had to do something, anything to help make me feel better about living at home for free. So many of my classmates from high school were already kicked out of the house or living in dorms.
Shuffling in and out of the room, they set plates of food down and a cup of cranberry juice for me. Good for my bladder and all that. Yep, still a kid in their eyes. Mom set two wine glasses for her and Dad. She filled hers almost to the top and I winced. Dad noticed too and stared at the glass a second too long, causing Mom to ask, "What?"
His head shook as he sat.
Forks scraped against our plates as we ate in silence. Mom took big audible gulps of her wine while Dad and I exchanged glances. No point in pissing Mom off any further by bringing it up.
Dane trailed in a few minutes later, sitting at attention right next to my chair, staring at me with those big black eyes while I ate. My eyes connected with his, as I reached to give him a pat on the head.
"Hate that disgusting thing," Mom mumbled. My mouth dropped open as I rolled my eyes onto her, yet she avoided looking at me. Did I just hear her correctly?
"Maria," Dad used his stern tone, "just because you're upset does not mean you get to talk to Mia like that."
"I wasn't talking about Mia," she snapped, taking another big gulp. I wondered if that was even her first glass today. "I was talking about that stupid damn dog we let her keep."
"Not this shit again. What's your problem?" he asked, slamming his fist down on the table. Dane and I didn’t even flinch anymore. "He keeps Mia calm. She's gotten so much better. How can you still not like him?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. Once she glanced at my face, I tried to remain stoic about the whole thing, picking at my food with my fork. I knew she didn't mean it. Sometimes she got upset and said things she didn't mean. I wasn't going to crucify her for it. This dinner was supposed to be about catching up and spending time together.
Guilt flashed in her eyes before she picked up her plate without another word and left the room. Plates crashed into the sink. Dad sighed and started stabbing his spaghetti with his fork, trying to remain normal. I looked down at my own plate. She ruined my dinner, again. I didn't even want to eat anymore.
Dad stood, throwing his fork down onto his plate, then left the room. They argued about her attitude. The way she treated me like grandpa used to treat her. He accused her of already being drunk. He brought up the meetings and asked if she stopped going.
I stayed in the dining room and listened, feeling invisible. Dane laid his head on my lap, and I scratched behind his ears. He really did make things better.
Chapter Two
Stephen
My eyes narrowed at my beautiful daughter as she sprawled out on the couch. My ex-wife stood in the foyer, arms crossed, rambling on and on about what I could or couldn't do with my own child. I stopped listening a long time ago, "Layla, baby, get your shoes off the couch, please? I'm not telling you again."
Layla pouted. Knowing better than to argue with me over a set rule in the house, she spun her legs off the couch. "Sorry, Daddy," she mumbled, untying her laces.
My little baby girl was already six years old, bordering on seven, and pushing the limits. Rules were already loose when she stayed with me because I only got her every other weekend. That wasn’t really enough time to lay down the law. Somehow, she'd still end up finding some way to challenge me.
"Stephen, are you even listening to me?" Desiree barked, bringing my attention back to her. Her beautiful green eyes were narrowed at mine as she glared hard enough to burn skin. I leaned against the wall, tired from a long day of work. I just wanted to spend the weekend with my daughter, not get chewed out for shit I hadn’t even done yet.
"Yes," I managed not to growl.
Her arms crossed over her chest, stance borderline threatening. I was tired of this power game with her. Her eyes were searching mine for something else to complain about, but she came up short with a huff. "Whatever. Just call me if you need anything." Her attention shifted to Layla. The venom she had directed toward me turned to s
ugar. "Honey, come give Mommy a hug goodbye."
"Okay," Layla sang before running around the couch and into her arms. They hugged tight and did the whole `Stay longer,' `No, I can't,' thing before Desiree finally released her, glaring one last time as she walked out the door.
Layla spun around on her toes, staring up at me. "So now what?" she asked in her cute little voice.
She almost looked like a carbon copy of Desiree. They had the same curly hair, same olive toned skin, and those same little chubby cheeks. The only things we shared were our eye shape and lips. The rest was her mother.
"Now, we eat dinner. What do you want?" I walked around her and into the kitchen where she followed. I opened the fridge and freezer. "We have chicken, so I could make you some chicken tenders… we also have meat, so I can make hamburgers-"
"Tenders!" she screamed then jumped up and down. My eyes widened at her outburst then she twirled around, acting all innocent. "Please, Daddy, please?"
Laughing, I nodded, ruffling the hair on her head. "Yeah, okay. I'll make you tenders. Go start on your homework."
She let out a long sigh, surprising me with how much breath she'd been able to let go without passing out. "It's Friday. Homework isn't due 'til Monday."
I grabbed the chicken from the fridge (pre-thawed) then threw it on the kitchen counter. "That may be, but if you do it now then you won't have to worry about it all weekend, right?" Turning to her, I leaned against the counter, giving her my full attention. She didn't look convinced. "You want to have a bunch of fun this weekend, right?" She nodded. "Okay, then it'll be even more fun if you don't have to worry about that homework."
Sighing, she gave me another frown. I watched as she concocted something behind those eyes before finally mentally throwing up a white flag. "Okay, I'll do it."
Her head dropped as she slumped out of the kitchen, making sure I noticed how tortured she was. She stopped in the doorway, gave me the saddest look she could muster, then turned away to the living room. My kid was too much.
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