When Jem joined us an hour later, I was more than ready to move on to a different venue. We had made plans to go to yoga, Jem and I, an activity his therapist was 100 percent in support of. The art of stillness was very good for his restless soul.
Bags in hand, we said good-bye to Celia and Marcy, promising to meet them later for burgers at a local diner, and we walked down the street to the studio.
“I still have to change,” I said, my fingers interlaced with his. His calloused skin against mine gave me familiar chills. Familiar was good. Familiar was just what I always wanted.
“I can help you with that,” he said, a wicked glint in his eye. I laughed. “Really, I would love to help you change. We can lock the door in the dressing room and—”
“No way,” I said vehemently while a very small part of me perked up at the idea. “Not kinky that way.”
It was his turn to laugh. He stopped, turned around, and drew me into his arms in a hug. “I know. That’s my Emily Rose, whom I love. Don’t ever change for anyone.” He nuzzled the skin behind my ear.
“Not even for you? I bet you dream of doing many of those kinky… things,” I said, heat rising to my cheeks.
“You can’t even say it.” He pulled me back so he could look me in the eye. “Kinky sex, you mean. And no, not even for me. I like the way we do it. No need for anything else.”
The yoga class was relaxing and reinvigorating. When we left, I was feeling heavenly, as if my feet were floating above ground and the world had suddenly turned a wonderful shade of blue. Walking with Jem’s hand across my shoulders had a lot to do with that feeling.
Celia and Marcy were already waiting for us at the small restaurant, big goblets of red wine in their hands. My eyebrow rose a little. My sister very rarely drank, and when she did it was either because she was too stressed about something—which she wasn’t—or something big had happened that required celebrating.
“Wine?” I said, sitting on the chair Jem had pulled out for me. He sat right next to me and looked at the two girls with curiosity. “What’s going on? First all the undue chirpiness and now wine? Something is going on. Dish, Celia.”
“Why, a girl can’t have a nice cup of wine without having something big to share?” she said, feigning outrage. Marcy almost choked on her wine. She knew something.
“Drop the act,” I said, leaning over the table and placing my hand over my sister’s. “What’s going on?”
Celia and Marcy exchanged a look pregnant with meaning. What are the two of them up to now?
“Remember that nice cop who was one of your watchers in the cabin in the woods?” she asked, putting the glass down.
“The one who got shot.” My stomach churned at the image that popped into my head. Jem gave my thigh a squeeze under the table. “Of course I remember. How could I ever forget?”
There was another look exchanged between the two crazy ones. “Well, I’m glad to inform you that he is doing very well,” she said, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “He has fully recovered from his injuries and he is back at work with the police. Just a desk job for now. They don’t want to push him yet.”
I snorted a little. “I know that. Detective Jarvas has been keeping me informed of their recovery.” He knew well that I felt responsible for their injuries and tried his best to put my mind at ease. Jem had confided that he often met one or both of the officers at the waiting room of his therapist.
Celia frowned, a funny little frown that made her look like an angry elf. “Well, excuse me for not knowing,” she said. Then she smiled again. “That’s not the news.”
A pause for effect followed her words. Celia had always enjoyed a bit of drama. I smiled in spite of my annoyance.
“While he was at the hospital recovering I got to meet him,” she continued, waving at a waiter. “We really should order dinner. I’m starved.”
Impatiently, I looked at the menu and picked the first thing I saw. Jem, as if in cahoots with Celia to keep me in the dark as long as humanly possible, took his time reading the menu. In the end, he ordered a cheeseburger and cheese fries. I don’t think he noticed the glare I threw at him.
The waiter, carrying the little notepad with our orders, walked away, and I looked pointedly at my sister. “Well?”
“Yes, so not only did I meet him, but I was assigned to his ward and was there for most of his hospital stay,” she said, taking another sip of the wine. Could she go any slower? “To make a long story short”—too late for that—“we’re dating.”
If I had not been sitting, I would have fallen. I couldn’t remember the last time my sister dated. Like Marcy, she went on dates but she had never seen the same guy twice. “You guys are dating? You mean really dating, like going-out-together-and-maybe-thinking-of-something-for-the-future dating?” I sounded like a blabbing idiot.
Celia nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, isn’t that great?” she said. “Out of all that horrible drama, something beautiful happened.”
Jem laughed heartily. “Sure. Because the fact that Emily Rose and I are finally together doesn’t really count,” he said.
Chagrin showed up on my baby sister’s face. “Of course it counts.” She bounced her eyes from Jem to me like a ping-pong ball. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Giggling, I covered her hand with mine again. “I know that. Jem knows that,” I said. “He’s just messing with you.” Jem nodded, an impish smile hovering on his lips.
Celia sighed loudly. “Oh thank God,” she said, her body deflating like a balloon. “I don’t want you to think I took advantage of your situation to get myself a man.”
It was Marcy who jumped in. “Of course no one thinks that,” she said. “But it is a happy coincidence. Don’t you think so, Em?”
I stood up and walked around the table to hug my sister. “My baby sister’s in love,” I said, putting my arms around her and leaning into her back. “That’s awesome.”
“Maybe we could have a double wedding,” Celia said. I dropped my arms and sat back down. “What?”
“Stop marrying us off,” I said. “We just got back together and you already have all these plans for the rest of our lives.”
Jem slid an arm over my shoulders and pulled me toward him. “What? Are you saying you wouldn’t consider marrying me?”
I must have blushed furiously because the heat on my face was unbearable. “I didn’t say that,” I said. “It’s just too soon to assume that’s what’s going to happen.”
“Oh, it’ll happen,” Marcy declared unexpectedly. “It’s in the cards, trust me.”
We all stared at her. The little witch had her eyes half-closed and a huge red stain on the corner of her mouth. She was obviously pretty tipsy. As if by silent agreement, we all burst out laughing. Marcy looked at us with a question in her eyes, and we laughed even harder.
By the time the waiter came with our food, we had already forgotten the whole issue of marriage.
Or at least, that’s what I wanted them all to believe.
***
“Ms. Lambert, can I go to the bathroom?” The strident little voice snapped me out of my reverie. Jeannie’s small hand was stuck all the way up in the air, waving frantically like a small, fleshy flag. “Please. I really have to go now.”
Unable to use my voice at that moment, I waved her my permission, and the child took off at great speed toward the classroom door. A few of the boys laughed out loud, and I’m certain one of them said something very rude. My head, stuck in the clouds, did not allow me to react. Let them fight amongst themselves. As long as there was no blood, everything was okay.
Coming back to work proved to be a lot harder than I thought. At first, I had been anxious to go back to the normal life—or, as I liked to call it now, pre-kidnapping life. However, I soon discovered that I couldn’t go back. Not really. The truth was my life had changed dramatically, whether I liked to admit it or not. Nothing was like before.
Dave was no longer part of my life,
and I was not sad about it at all. Instead, Jem now had the lead role in the movie script my life seemed to be following these days. I couldn’t be happier. In spite of all the danger and trauma, I was exactly where I wanted to be. Jem was still suffering from bouts of PTSD, but all in all we had regained control of our lives—as much as anyone can ever claim to have.
“Ms. Lambert, you were in la-la land again,” José said, his slanted black eyes squinting at me. I laughed. I used that line on them all the time. Now it was their turn to use it on me.
Being back at work had been a little challenging. I found myself daydreaming all the time and, more often than not, my fifth graders had to wake me up from my sleepwalking to demand being taught. I had Jem in my heart and in my brain. Our relationship was like a storm that gathered power with every step. All I had to do was think about him, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling with mischief, and I was undone. Damn! Was he learning to use magic from Marcy?
“I’m sorry, class.” I cleared my throat. “I’m a little absentminded today. Let’s go back to the reading on the board. After the first read, what have you noticed about it?”
An ocean of waving hands swam in front of me. I smiled. I could bet half of them would not have a single thing to say if I called on them.
The day crawled painfully slowly, and by two in the afternoon I was ready to give up and suggest we all take a nap. A knock on the door interrupted my near-comatose state. Had I locked the door by mistake?
The door cracked open and, to my surprise, a huge bouquet of red roses slipped through the crack. My students gasped.
When a familiar face followed the flowers, my heart went all aflutter. Jem! I couldn’t move as he walked inside the classroom, his hands clutching the bouquet and a big, stunning smile on his lips.
“Sorry to interrupt, guys,” he said, waving at the students. “I have something very important to ask your teacher. Can I?”
For once, my hormonal young charges did not snicker. They all quietly nodded their assent, and feisty Giselle even waved him in.
“Wow!” Jem advanced into the classroom while surveying his surroundings. “What a great classroom you guys have here. You must have an awesome teacher.”
The idiot was smiling and winking at all the kids. The girls had this rosy-cheeked, dreamy expression on their faces. Jem was working his male magic on all of them. As for the boys, they seemed just as entranced by the magnificent male with muscled biceps sticking out from his T-shirt.
He stopped in front of me by the Smartboard, and the smile turned into a full-fledged boyish grin. Heat crawled up my neck to my cheeks.
“Ms. Lambert,” he said, winking. “Lovelier a creature have I rarely seen.” The children giggled softly at his choice of words. He turned to them. “What do you think? Should I ask her?” The students all nodded emphatically, even though I doubt they knew what he meant. I didn’t either.
“Jem,” I lowered my voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, sweetheart, it’s like this.” He dropped to one knee, and all the girls gasped. I probably did, too. “I came to ask my best friend if she will marry me.” He handed the bouquet to me.
I heard the sound of trotting hooves and I realized it was my heart. Accepting the bouquet from his hands, I tried to talk but couldn’t.
“Marry him, Ms. Lambert,” one of the girls yelled. “He’s cute.”
As if guessing my thoughts, another child came and took the flowers off my hands so I could hold Jem’s. I still couldn’t talk.
“I think she’s in shock,” said Max, the class smarty-pants. I laughed, the wetness of tears on the edge of my vision. Happy tears.
“I hate to say this, Em,” Jem said, still on one knee, “but my knee hasn’t been the same since it was kicked a few times. Are you going to put me out of my misery anytime soon?”
I swallowed. “Ask again.”
Looking me straight in the eyes, Jem licked his lips. “Will you make me the happiest man on earth and marry me, Emily Rose?”
Not sure what came first, the chuckle or the sob. “I will marry you, Jeremy Peter. I will so marry you.”
The door was flung open all the way and Celia and Marcy jumped in, launching confetti and streamers out of their hand cannons. A colorful shower of paper floated up in the air for a few seconds before falling over everything and everybody. Students yelled in surprise and delight as the rainbow shower covered the room and their heads in bright colored paper.
Jem pulled himself up and drew me into a hug. “Are you crying because you’re sad or because you’re happy?” he asked me, his mouth by my ear.
Tears were rolling down my face. I probably looked like a deranged raccoon. Pulling myself away from him far enough to look into his oh-so-blue eyes, I giggle-sobbed. “You stupid, stupid fool.” I held his face between my hands. “I love you. I have loved you always. Of course they’re happy tears. Very happy tears.”
“Kiss her, kiss her,” the fifth graders were chanting, egged on by my sister and the witch.
Jem took a quick look around us. “Well, I got to tell you,” he said in a whisper. “For me it was always you. I love you, Emily Rose.”
And he kissed me.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
__________
A special thanks goes to Jenn, fierce leader of our Sippy Cups and Semantics writing group, who shared the wonderful picture that inspired this story. All your pictures inspire me to write. If only I had the time to write all of them.
To my amazing yoga teacher, Aliya, who has helped me find inner peace and a flexibility I didn’t know I had. Thank you for all the support and encouragement. And thank you for believing in me.
To all my beta readers, whose enthusiasm for this story made me feel all oozy inside and gave me the pep I needed to keep going. You rock!
To my awesome editors, J.K. and Olivia for doing an amazing job at helping me “clean” and improve my story. Amazing what you don’t notice after you read your manuscript a million times.
To my wonderful publisher and master motivator, Becky, for all her support and enthusiasm. It’s been a blast!
Since I’m a serious art nerd I have to give kudos to the Hot Tree Publishing graphic team who came up with this amazing cover. Love it!
Last, but never ever least, a huge thank you to my family who put up with my writing growing up and who loved me unconditionally through it all. Love you all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
__________
Natalina wrote her first romance in collaboration with her best friend at the age of thirteen. Since then she has ventured into other genres, but romance is first and foremost in almost everything she writes. Her novel, We Will Always Have the Closet, is her first published romance.
After earning a degree in tourism and foreign languages, she worked as a tourist guide in her native country, Portugal, for a short time before moving to the United States. She’s lived in three continents and a few islands, and her knack for languages and linguistics led her to a master’s degree in education. She lives in Virginia where she has taught English as a second language to elementary school children for more years than she cares to admit.
Natalina doesn’t believe you can have too many books or too much coffee. Art and dance make her happy and she is pretty sure she could survive on lobster and bananas alone. When she is not writing or stressing over lesson plans, she shares her life with her husband and two adult sons.
Facebook: WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/AUTHORNATALINAREIS
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
__________
Hot Tree Publishing opened its doors in 2015 with an aspiration to bring quality fiction to the world of readers. With the initial focus on romance and a wide spread of romance sub-genres, we envision opening up to alternative genres in the near future.
Firmly seated in the industry as a leading editing provider to independent authors and small publishing houses, Hot Tree Publishing is the sister company to Hot Tree Editin
g, founded in 2012. Having established in-house editing and promotions, plus having a well-respected market presence, Hot Tree Publishing endeavors to be a leader in bringing quality stories to the world of readers.
Interested in discovering more amazing reads brought to you by Hot Tree Publishing or perhaps you’re interested in submitting a manuscript and joining the HTPubs family? Either way, head over to the website for information:
HTTP://WWW.HOTTREEPUBLISHING.COM
Table of Contents
DEDICATION
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
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ABOUT THE PUBLISHER
Loved You Always Page 19