Finally My Happy Ending (Meant for Me Book 3)

by St. James, Brooke

  I thought about Brock the whole time I was at work. He called a couple of times, but I was teaching class and couldn't make it to the phone. I tried to call him back during my off-hour, but it went straight to his voicemail.

  I had an email from him in my inbox when I checked it that afternoon.

  How's my girl? I tried to call earlier, but I got your voicemail. I figured you might have gone to work. I hope you're feeling well enough to do so; that would make me happy. Sorry I didn't get the chance to call last night. We went straight to the gallery when they picked me up from the airport. It was bigger and better than I ever expected, and I wish you were here to see everything.

  The open house is tonight. Misha, the woman who runs the gallery, says it's gonna be huge. She said they'd like me to say a few words tonight, and I'm sure you can imagine how I feel about that. I've got to suck it up, though, because I stand to get a lot of business here. I've written a few things down, but I'll probably end up tossing them out the window and improvising.

  She showed me my itinerary, and tomorrow and Sunday are both packed. I have several meetings planned with prospective clients, one of which happens on a boat while we're deep-sea fishing. I guess there could be worse places to have a meeting. I had no idea it would be such a busy weekend, but I'm thankful for the gallery and the clients they're introducing me to. I'm not sure how much time I'll have to connect with you on the phone, but please know that my thoughts are with you. I miss you, and I hate that I have to be gone while you're still recovering.

  Yours,

  Brock

  I wrote him back right away.

  Hey there,

  Thanks for the note. I'm so glad to hear that things are going well and that everyone seems to appreciate your talent.

  You were right… I did go to work today! I almost stayed home, but I'm feeling a lot better, and thought I might go crazy if I stayed cooped up in the house. Emily took me out for coffee yesterday. She was really sweet about everything and told me if I needed anything I could call her and Shane. I think I'm in the clear with the allergic reaction. I'm feeling better and better with each passing day.

  I hope you have lots of fun in Florida and make great connections. Don’t be nervous about saying a few words at the open house. Just be honest with them about who you are and what you do. You're brilliant, and your work speaks for itself.

  Looking forward to seeing you soon,

  Trish

  I had the urge to write the words I love you in the note, but obviously, I didn't.

  I ended up going to the movies with Ryan that night, and while we were there, I told him about Emily wanting to set him up with her friend. He was open to it and was curious about what she looked like. I told him he had been in the same place as her at least once and tried to describe her, but he didn't know who I was talking about.

  He was on his way to work the next afternoon when I thought about looking her up on Facebook. I brought my laptop onto the couch and called him over to sit by me.

  "I have to leave in five minutes," he said plopping down beside me.

  "It'll only take a second," I said. "I don't know why I never thought of this before. I think you're gonna like her. She's really cute."

  He looked at the screen as I clicked away on the keypad, searching for Emily, which I knew would lead me to Chelsea. I went to Emily's feed, and it only took a minute to find a photo album full of photos of Chelsea. I pointed at the screen and looked at Ryan to see what he thought. He leaned in closer to the screen.

  "What's her name?" he asked, even though I had already told him.

  "Chelsea."

  He tapped my arrow button to look at a few more pictures. "She's cute," he said, noncommittally.

  He stood up and crossed to the door where he put on his shoes. He asked if I wanted to go for a hike the next day if it wasn't too cold, but I refused, saying I had some work to catch up on. Mostly, it was because I was still gun shy about hiking, but I didn't tell him as much. I had my fingers crossed that I would get over it before too much longer. I could hear Brock say, "You have to get right back on that horse." I had heard him say it about something else, but in this case, it applied to hiking, and I could just hear him saying it in my mind. I smiled at the thought.

  "What are you smiling at?" Ryan asked.

  "Nothing."

  "Thinking about that guy?" he asked.

  I almost lied and said I wasn't, but I decided not to. "How'd you know?" I asked.

  "Because you had that far off look in your eyes."

  I rolled my eyes playfully at him. "I hope you make tons of tips tonight," I said as he opened the door.

  "Thanks, me too."

  I stared at my computer once he was gone. My interest in Facebook waxed and waned, and I was currently going through a time when I didn't look at it at all. None of my roommates were home, and I didn't have anything better to do, so I decided to mess around on it for a little while.

  Brock's mom, Deb, took care of most of the paperwork and marketing for his business. This was ideal for Brock since the only thing he was interested in was making the furniture. I knew she managed his social media, so while I was on Facebook, I figured I'd check out his page. She had done a good job. I smiled as I navigated through the last few posts. There were tons of pictures of his work, and I caught myself feeling proud of him and everything he'd accomplished.

  I pressed the button to close out one of the photo albums I was looking through, and when I went back to his feed, I saw a brand new post. It was a photograph that she had just shared from Hanover Gallery's page. It was a group shot of what must have been Brock at the gallery last evening.

  I clicked on it, and my heart sank as it became bigger on my screen. Brock was in the middle of the photo surrounded by gorgeous women in fancy clothes. There were men in the photo as well, but my brain couldn’t compute anything besides the group of beauty queens huddled around him. What was this, an episode of Next Top Model? I blinked and stared at the computer in disbelief. I scrolled over the photo to see who had been tagged. Misha was the dark haired vixen standing right beside Brock with a huge smile plastered on her face. For some reason, when he talked about Misha as the gallery director, I pictured her as an older, distinguished woman with grey hair and glasses. This party girl in a tight dress and stilettos had no business running a gallery.

  I followed the link to the gallery's page to find tons of other photos from the open house. There were action photos of Brock talking to people and showing various parts of his work, along with posed photos where everyone was wearing their best smiles. I couldn't believe all the beautiful people in Miami—or maybe they just took pictures of the most beautiful ones. Either way, the Facebook page looked like an episode of some rich housewives show.

  I stalked their feed for at least ten minutes with a crazy mixture of horror, jealousy, and pride fighting for dominance within me. Before I could let my feelings run away with me, I closed my web browser. "You need to make better use of your time," I said out loud to myself. I sighed, trying to simultaneously put my feelings in perspective and make a plan for the next two days while Brock was out of town.

  I had given my students at Happy House an assignment that was due Monday. It was to write a short, fictional adventure story where the main character got into and then out of some sort of trouble. The plan was for everyone to read his or her story to the class when we met again. I figured it was the perfect opportunity for me to do a little writing. I could participate in the creative writing challenge, which I knew the students would love.

  My story could be based on my own kidnapping and snakebite, which would ultimately help me get it off my chest. Writing would also help me pass the time while Brock was in Miami schmoozing it up with that Kim Kardashian looking gallery director. It was a win-win situation.

  I put my fingers to the keypad and, for the rest of that day, and all of the next, I only took them off to eat, sleep, and use the restroom. I finished my story Sunday aft
ernoon, and didn't stop till I had reread it three times and made necessary edits.

  I fell asleep Sunday evening wondering where the weekend had gone. It was as if I'd been sucked into a vortex where time had stood still. I went to work Monday morning, feeling relief and excitement about Brock coming home that evening. I was glad I hadn't spent all weekend checking Facebook and worrying about what he was doing. I was so busy finishing my story that I hadn't even gotten on the internet at all.

  I had a couple hours to kill after school before heading to the Happy House that afternoon. I used that time to shower and apply a fresh coat of makeup. I hadn't heard from Brock at all, but I knew his flight was supposed to arrive sometime around dinner time. I hadn't yet made plans on how or when I'd see him, but I knew in my heart I would. I figured I'd go to the Happy House looking presentable in case he got in touch and wanted me to come by afterward.

  I had a few minutes to spare after getting dressed and before I needed to leave for the class, so I got on my computer and logged into Facebook. I knew even as I was doing it that it was a mistake, but the curiosity was too much to handle. I would have been looking at it constantly had it not been for my story, and I congratulated myself as I navigated to the page for holding off this long.

  I'm not sure what I was expecting to find. Maybe I was thinking or hoping that the photos from the open house the other night would be all that was there, but that wasn't what happened. There was a whole new photo album, which included pictures of Brock on a deep-sea excursion. There were women in swimsuits on the boat with him, and I gawked at the pictures, wondering if it was actually possible to wear a bathing suit in March in Miami. Didn't they have winter over there?

  I scrolled through them quickly and squinted while flinching at the screen because I didn't want to give myself time or the ability to memorize them. There was a photo towards the end of Brock holding a huge fish. I didn't know what sort of fish it was and barely even spared a glance at it because my eye was drawn to Brock's face. He was smiling and looked so handsome that I caught myself doubting that he could actually be the same guy who was coming home to me tonight. Was he really coming home to me, or was it all a big dream?

  I tried to remember what Emily had said at the coffee shop. There was a point where I felt confident that he really liked me, and I tried to hold onto that feeling as I thought about the photos. I knew I had nothing to gain by letting myself get swept away by doubt and insecurities. If I was meant to be with him, it would happen, and that's all there was to it.

  Chapter 20

  I had printed my story at work that day, and I brought all thirty pages of it to Happy House in a folder. I had already read it three times during the editing process, and knew it would take forty-five minutes to an hour to read the whole thing out loud. Class normally only lasted an hour, so I figured I might have to read only a portion of it and continue it the following week.

  I was pleasantly surprised by the efforts of the students. I put a two-paragraph minimum on the assignment. A few of them went with that, but most of them wrote a page or two. I had given them several creative writing projects in the time I had been volunteering there, but this one was their best so far. I was really proud of them. They were really starting to understand the concept of creating likable characters and exciting situations. I had never given them an assignment where a character was supposed to get into and out of trouble, and it was hilarious to listen to everything they came up with. All of the parents and family members were thoroughly entertained, and we sat around the living room having a grand old time.

  There was only twenty minutes left in class when I started reading my story, so I knew I would have to continue the following week. I set my story in medieval times. I had the heroine grow up in Scotland so that I could get away with giving her red hair like mine. This made Thomas extremely happy because he had a thing for my "orange" hair and talked about how cool it was all the time. I was tempted to name her Trisha, since I hoped my real life would turn out like the story, but I went with Kyla instead.

  I told the story of how Kyla fell in love with a fierce warrior named Grant. The first ten pages or so were all about how they met years before and had a misunderstanding that led to Kyla not liking him very much. But then Grant came out of nowhere and performed a brave, noble deed for the girl that made her realize how badly she had misjudged him.

  The two fell madly in love, of course, but something terrible happened. Kyla was taken by a rival clan and held hostage in hopes of luring Grant into battle.

  I stopped the story at that point and looked at the clock. It was already five minutes past time to leave, and I still had about a third of the story left to go. "Okay guys, we'll finish the story next week," I said.

  Everyone in the room simultaneously let out a disappointed, "Awwww!" They all regarded me as if I was out of my mind for wanting to stop.

  "It's almost over!" Thomas insisted.

  "I've got about eight or ten more pages," I said. "I don't want you guys to run late for dinner. We can finish it up next week."

  Most of them let out that disappointed sound again. The students began looking at their parents and asking them if they could stay. The parents agreed that they were into it too, and turned to me to ask if I wouldn't mind finishing it up.

  "Unless you have somewhere to go," Claire said.

  "No ma'am, I'm fine to finish it. I just didn't want to hold you guys up."

  "You're not holding us up," Thomas said. "We love your story."

  "Grant's gonna rescue her in a minute," Mary Katherine said.

  Thomas looked at her with a shocked expression. "How do you know?"

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know, but I hope he will."

  "I'll go ahead and finish it so you guys won't have to wonder," I said.

  They all clapped and cheered. I might as well have been playing a packed house at Madison Square Garden with how good it felt for them to beg to hear the rest of it. I could hardly contain my smile as I looked down and began reading again.

  I told about the long journey to the rival clan's castle, and how Kyla was bitten by a poisonous snake. The students gasped in terror at the scene, which on some level gave me personal satisfaction. There was a big oaf who had been in charge of holding Kyla captive. She'd been really afraid of him at first, but once the snake bit her, he became concerned and took good care of her. Kyla barely remembered the rest of her journey, and when she woke up in rival clan's territory, the village healer was already caring her for. Before she knew it, Grant had come to rescue her. In my story, they would not let her go, and Grant had to fight his way into the castle to find her. There was a battle scene that ended with Grant showing mercy to the very people who had been trying to hurt him. All he wanted was Kyla, and he promised not to take out any more vengeance once she was brought to him unharmed. The big oaf brought Grant to the bed where Kyla was lying, and apologized to both of them for everything they'd gone through.

  I had two more pages explaining their journey back home and their happily ever after when there came a knock on the door. Everyone was so into the story that a few of them actually gasped when the knock sounded.

  "Who in the world?" Claire asked, crossing to the front door in a hurry.

  "You don’t have to knock at the Happy House," Thomas announced, looking over his shoulder to see who it was.

  Everyone was staring at the door when Brock stepped inside.

  "Brockkkk!" Thomas shouted, throwing his hands into the air. "That's my friend Brock! What are you doing here?"

  Brock waved at Thomas but made an expression that said he knew he was interrupting something. He looked sharp in fitted khaki pants and a button-down shirt. I wanted to stand up and run into his arms.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt. I thought you guys were done at six," he said.

  Claire smiled and reached out to give him a hug. I could tell she was slightly curious by his arrival. She must not have known we'd been hanging
out.

  "We're usually done by now, but Trish wasn't finished with her story," Thomas said.

  "I can finish it next week," I said, feeling reluctant to read the part where Grant and Kyla ride off into the sunset together.

  "I don't want to stop you from what you're doing," Brock said, acting like he was going to wait outside.

  "Don't be silly," Claire said, pulling him by the arm.

  "She was almost done." She looked at me. "Weren't you?"

  I nodded.

  "You don't mind if Brock joins us for the end, do you?"

  "Of course not," I said.

  Thomas scooted toward Mary Katherine on the couch and patted the space next to him, telling Brock to come sit there. Brock was a big man, and it was a small space, so I smiled at the site of him squeezing into it.

  "Kyla got kidnapped and bit by a snake, but she's better now," Thomas said. "Grant just rescued her."

  Mary Katherine leaned forward to look at Brock. "Kyla and Grant love each other," she said.

  Brock smiled at them before shifting his attention to me. His smile broadened and he raised his eyebrows at me. It was all I could do not to crack up was nervous laughter. I prayed that my face wasn't as red as it felt. I sighed as I stared down at the paper to continue.

  I told of their journey back to Edinburgh on horseback. I told of how tenderly the fierce warrior cared for Kyla and her time of sickness. I told how right when they got back, he had to go out of town to party with some hot English girls on a boat. Just kidding. I improvised that part in my head for my own entertainment. That wasn't part of the story at all, and I certainly didn't say it.

  The last scene was the marriage between Grant and Kyla. The oaf from the rival clan traveled to be there along with all of their friends and loved ones in Edinburgh. It was a short but sweet description of their happily ever after that ended with a sweet, heartfelt kiss.