She’s focused now, her wide eyes fixed on my hand.
Trent lifts my hand and shows them the ring.
“You two are engaged,” Dad says slowly, as though he’s trying to work it into something that’s not totally crazy.
“We realized while Lexie was away that we loved each other … as more than family,” Trent says. “I think we’ve always had feelings for each other. We just didn’t see our feelings for what they were until now.”
Dad’s face blanches, and he just stares at us like we have two heads … or two heads each, I guess, so four heads, really. “I don’t even know what to make of this.”
“Daddy, please don’t be mad,” I squeak out through my tight throat.
“So you two have been …” He trails off and waves his hand in a circle at us, his face tightening with his discomfort, obviously hoping we’ll catch his drift so he doesn’t have to say it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Julie squirm uncomfortably in her chair.
“Not until recently,” Trent says, matter-of-fact.
I know my face is flaming because I feel my cheeks burn.
Dad lowers the legs of his recliner abruptly and stands, yanking a hand through his disheveled hair. He sits, then stands again and stares down at us in disgust before bolting from the room.
I flinch a second later at the sound of the front door slamming behind him.
Julie springs out of her chair without even looking in our direction and flies out the door behind him.
I’m paralyzed in my seat. This is my worst nightmare. Tears prick the corner of my eyes, and, as they run over my lashes, I can’t even move to wipe them away.
“They’ll come around,” Trent says low in my ear, but he sounds as stunned as I feel.
He pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead when I don’t respond, but I wiggle out of his grasp.
I choke out on a sob. Trent is everything to me … but what if Dad can’t get past this? I stand and walk up the stairs to my room, numb. I flop on my bed with my arm over my face. Tears roll into my ears as I hitch out sobs, realizing I’ve ruined my family. Our parents will never be able to look at us the same again. I stuff a pillow over my head and hope the Earth will just crash into the sun or something, so I don’t have to face Dad again.
“Lex,” Trent says from my door. “You okay?”
“No.”
I feel the side of the bed dip as Trent sits. “What do you want to do?”
My hitching breath starts to slow, and I toss the pillow aside and climb onto his lap, curling into his arms. “Sing to me.”
He kisses my temple, and his voice starts low. He’s only a line in when I realize it’s a song I’ve only heard once before, coming out of his BlackBerry as we sat on my bed in Rome. I’m sobbing into his shirt again by the time he gets to the chorus. He lifts my head and thumbs the tears off my face, gazing so far into me that I feel him in my soul. His voice goes all gravel as he sings,
You picked me up and helped me heal,
You taught me what it meant to feel.
Now I can, now I do, and everything I feel is you.
I would never do you wrong,
or let you down or lead you on.
I can’t stop now, I’ll come unglued, when everything I feel is you.
When he finishes, he kisses me so gently that it makes me cry again. “You are my world, Lexie. If we have to do this without our parents’ okay, then that’s what it’s going to be, but I really think they’ll come around.” He kisses me again, deeper this time, and the intensity of it crushes my heart.
“I love you so much,” I whisper against his lips.
A throat clears from the doorway, and we both look up to find Dad and Julie standing there, staring at us.
Dad’s face is pinched. He just looks at us for a long heartbeat before saying, “I’m sorry for my reaction. If you …” He clears his throat again as his eyes drift away from us. “If you two wouldn’t mind coming back downstairs, we’d like to talk about this.” He looks at us for another second, and his expression softens a little before he turns and heads back down the stairs. Julie gives us a wary smile and follows.
Dad motions to the couch when Trent leads me into he family room, his hand firmly in mine. We slide into our seats, and Dad and Julie lower themselves back into their recliners. Dad props his elbows on his knees, tenting his fingers in front of his nose, his chin resting on his thumbs—his thinking position.
“Daddy, I’m so sor—” I start, but he raises his hand, stopping me.
“Every father has dreams for his little girl,” he says. His eyes land on Trent. “With any luck, someday you’ll know that firsthand.” He lowers his hands from his face and presses back in his seat, his gaze finding mine again. “My dream for my little girl has always been that she would grow up to be the strong, capable, beautiful woman she is, and that she would find someone who would make her as happy as she’s made me.” His eyes start to glisten, and he stops, drawing a deep breath and holding it for a second before blowing it out slowly through pursed lips. “I hoped she would find a good man—someone who would love her as much as I do; someone who would respect her for who she is and support her and encourage her to reach for her dreams.” He swallows, and his moist gaze shifts to Trent. “And for my son, I’ve always hoped he’d grow up to be a good man; someone with morals and solid values. Someone people could look to as a role model. Someone who knows who he is and what he wants and isn’t afraid to shoot for the stars.” He reaches for Julie’s hand and squeezes. “I got everything I ever could have hoped for.”
Trent shifts next to me. “So we have your blessing?”
Dad blows out a breath and looks at us for an excruciatingly long time before saying, “This isn’t just hormones? You two have seriously thought about this?”
We both nod.
Dad shifts back into thinking position, elbows on knees and his hands tented in front of his face. “You may be done with school, Trent, but Lexie still has a year of college, then maybe grad school. I hope you two aren’t planning to rush anything.”
“Of course,” Trent says. “We won’t even think about doing anything until Lexie’s done, and we both have jobs.”
“Lexie’s career path is a narrow one,” Dad warns, a deep V forming between his eyebrows. “What if it requires her to relocate?”
“I know she wants to curate a children’s museum, and I know those jobs are extremely hard to come by. I’ll go wherever she needs me to.” Trent squeezes my hand and looks at me. “I’ll follow her anywhere.”
My love for this beautiful, incredible man swells up and flows over in tears that I quickly wipe away.
“And your music?” Julie asks Trent.
He breathes deep and holds it for a second, his hand twitching in mine. “All I’ve ever wanted to do was write and perform. I can do that anywhere.”
“I thought you were going to teach,” she says, looking a little stricken.
Trent pinches his lips between his teeth and rubs his forehead. “That’s what you want. Randy just got done saying I shouldn’t be afraid to shoot for the stars.”
I glance at Dad, who inclines his head and lifts an eyebrow. But he doesn’t argue.
Julie’s expression shifts yet again. She still has that unsure tilt to her mouth, like she’s trying to work something out—which could possibly have to do with the fact that she walked in on her buck-naked son and stepdaughter basking in what was quite obviously postcoital glow—but her eyes aren’t lifeless pebbles anymore. They’re looking us over with the same love I’ve always seen there.
“Well,” Dad finally says with half a smirk, “I guess I know whose family is paying for the wedding.”
Trent smiles at Dad, and he smiles back.
“Dinner’s getting cold,” Julie says, standing from her recliner. “We can talk more about this later.”
We get to our feet, and the three of us follow Julie to the kitchen.
Dad s
hakes his head and looks back at us with a wry smile before passing through the door. “I have to admit, I never saw this coming.”
“Neither did we,” I say, finally brave enough to open my mouth again.
“Trent, can you get the rolls out of the oven?” Julie says to him, as Dad moves to the cupboard for glasses and starts filling them with ice and water. “And Lexie, if you’ll pull some plates down, I’ve got everything else on the table.”
I move to the cupboard and watch as everyone goes about their tasks, like it’s just any other night.
Trent and I are out there—official—and the Earth didn’t fall off its axis. I have Trent, and Dad and Julie still love us. Alessandro is with his family. He’s still sorting things out, but he’s going to be okay. Sam will most likely hate me forever, but maybe not. This might just be okay.
Maybe there are happily ever afters. Who knew?
Lexie and Trent may have found their happily-ever-after,
but Alessandro Moretti’s story is just beginning …
Continue reading for a sneak peek at
A Little Too Much
On sale November 2013
from William Morrow
There are ghosts in twenty-two-year-old Hilary McIntyre’s past that she’d just as soon forget. But life is finally starting to look up. She’s gotten herself straightened out and she’s daring to shoot for her childhood dream of becoming a Broadway actress. She’s got the voice, she’s got the looks, now all she needs is the in, and her boyfriend, who’s already scored a major support role, is going to be it. But unfortunately for Hilary, ghosts from your past don’t always stay dead.
When Alessandro Moretti shows up on her doorstep, she knows he could ruin everything, but he’s got ghosts of his own, and apparently, she’s one of them. She hasn’t seen him since they were teenagers in the group home, but a week hasn’t gone by in the eight years since that she hasn’t thought of him or his brother. Even so, there’s no way she’s going to let his reappearance throw her off her game. And she sure as hell isn’t going to tell him her secret—even though there’s something about him that makes her want to. When she finds herself falling for him all over again, she has a decision to make. Her future or her past? The truth or the lie?
I STOP AT the ATM and deposit my check, then head home. The drizzle has picked up and by the time I get there, I’m pretty soaked, but I don’t really mind. I like walking in the rain. It’s one of the few things other than sex that I find really calming. Puddles are starting to form on the sidewalk and I walk right through them, splashing up as much water as I can without full-out stomping like a four-year-old. I’m actually smiling when I get to the door of our apartment and look up.
And then I’m not smiling anymore.
There’s a guy standing in my doorway. A tall guy in black cargo pants, army boots, and a blue hoodie. A gorgeous guy. And he’s staring at me.
“Hilary?” he asks, and he’s got a light accent that I can’t identify with just that one word. Something European, maybe?
“It depends,” I say backing off a step. He looks familiar, but I can’t place him. He’s got wavy black hair that’s slicked back from his forehead and dark eyes all set in one of the most beautiful man-faces I’ve ever seen. His skin is olive, no darker than mine, but a totally different shade. He’s got to be an actor or something. Maybe I know him from an audition? “Who’s asking?”
“It’s me, Hilary. Alessandro.”
His face blurs and the streetlights above my head spin. I feel myself wobble on my feet before I brace my hand on the building and get my bearings again. “Alessandro?” I’ve only known one person with that name.
His face scrunches a little. “Alessandro Moretti … from the group home?”
The next thing I know I’m on my ass in a puddle, my legs having turned to Jell-O, and Alessandro has my arm. I look up at his concerned face. “What are you doing here?”
He helps me off the sidewalk but stops short of brushing off my ass. “I needed to see you … to talk to you.”
My stomach plummets to my toes and I think for a second that I should have stayed down. Does he know? How could he have found out?
I lean back against the wall for support. “Where’s Lorenzo?” All of a sudden I’m desperate to know if he’s coming for me too.
His lips press into a hard line and his charcoal eyes darken. He closes them and breathes deep before opening them again. “Lorenzo has been dead for two years.”
About the Author
LISA DESROCHERS is the author of the young adult Personal Demons trilogy. She lives in northern California with her husband, two very busy daughters, and Shini the tarantula. If you’d told her five years ago she’d write a book, she’d have laughed in your face. As it turns out, she’d owe you an apology. Writing has become an addiction for Lisa, and A Little Too Far is her first novel for adults. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, and she adores stories that take her to new places, then take her by surprise.
Find her online at www.lisadwrites.com, on Twitter at @LisaDez, and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/lisadwrites.
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By Lisa Desrochers
A Little Too Far
Coming Soon
A Little Too Much
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpt from A Little Too Much copyright © 2013 by Lisa Desrochers.
A LITTLE TOO FAR. Copyright © 2013 by Lisa Desrochers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition SEPTEMBER 2013 ISBN: 9780062298997
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062299017
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