by Emma Nichols
“Back then we did. What about Lacey now?” I inquired.
Joe was silent, jaw working, and then he groaned, covering his face with his hands.
I put my hands on his broad shoulders and took a shaky breath. This was harder than I thought, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
“You’re right, you and I loved each other and it was so, so sweet. I’ll never forget those months with you as long as I live, Joe, especially now that there are no ugly lies between us. But our love was in our past.” I squeezed his shoulders. “We can’t go back. We didn’t ask for this and it’s not fair, but we’re different people now. Your true love is with Lacey.” My voice broke. “That’s your future, Joe, and it will finally be a beautiful, happy life that you both deserve.”
“Oh, Cloey Josephine Zure,” Joe murmured, pulling me into his arms. He rocked me for a little while and I think we both cried.
Finally, I pulled away from his embrace, wiping my face.
“What about your future? Don’t you deserve to be happy?” He asked softly, his finger carefully wiping a tear I’d missed.
I smiled. “Well, it wasn’t exactly sporting of you to raise the bar so high, Joseph Randolph Barrington Jr., but it’s a big world. I’ll find my happily-AF-ever-after.”
We both laughed.
Joe suggested, “Let’s go down and have a drink. After all, it is really a reunion for you, me, and Lacey to celebrate.”
“You go,” I urged, smiling. “I’ll be down in a bit.”
After Joe left, I got my comfortable traveling clothes out of my suitcase and changed into leggings and a T-shirt. I was packed in ten minutes. Although my note to Lacey and Joe took as long to compose, it was short and sweet.
Dear Lacey and Joe,
I decided to hit the road early. Actually, I’d rather go hang out in an airport than go out with you two. The way you fondle each other and drool all over everything is utterly and completely disgusting.
Love always,
Cloey
* * *
The End
Note From the Author
Hey, Wonderful Readers,
Thanks so much for reading CloZure! I completely enjoyed writing this novella. I hope you got a kick out of the story, as well. You’re invited to come browse my website and check out my other published books and their reviews.
Until the next book,
Warmest regards,
Tracy Ellen
Go HERE to my website
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About the Author
A wife, mother, and a grandmother of two little darlings; Tracy lives in the suburbs of the Twin Cities in Minnesota with her incredibly tolerant husband and surrounded by her wonderfully fun family. Besides her passion for writing steamy, funny, and suspenseful novels, she enjoys staying up late reading books of all genres or binge watching TV series--seasons at a time. She loves cooking for family and friends, playing games of any kind, shopping for sparkly trinkets, and traveling the back roads seeking out new adventures in life. Tracy especially loves meeting fellow readers, so don’t be shy stopping by to say hi.
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Scooping Sage
Monica Donnelly
Scooping Sage Copyright © 2018 Monique McDonell.
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
The moral right of Monique McDonell as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act of 1998.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locales, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental or fictionalized.
1
I was at my ten-year reunion for one reason and one reason only. Right now the reason in question was looking sexy as sin as she talked to Mrs. Williams, the Alumni Coordinator over by the name tags. She had her back to me so all I could see were her fine curves highlighted by a pair of wide-legged black pants and a creamy top the color of her skin. Her hair fell down her back in luscious dark curls.
Back in the day the curls were usually pulled back in a ponytail, but today they were loose and free, and I really wanted to tangle my hands in them.
“Get a grip, Jordan.” I reminded myself there was a whole weekend to get from here all the way across the room to touching she-who-hadn’t-spoken-to-me-in-ten-years. Not that I wanted to wait all weekend.
Behind Mrs. Williams I could see the deck of the Leaning Pine was already heaving with my fellow alumni, many of whom I had regular contact with, unlike the object of my affection. I was a pretty popular guy. People liked me, kept in touch with me. They met me for a drink when they came to LA or messaged me when they saw me on television. I was that guy.
I was not, however, that guy for Sage Burrows. There was a time back in high school when we’d been something. Not friends exactly, but something, and then I blew it with one very ill-advised, ill-timed kiss. Here we were ten years later, and I was determined to make it right.
Mrs. Williams was distracted by some other name tag hunters so I crossed the room and leaned-in close.
“Hey Scoop,” I whispered, and she turned toward me. Her perfect red lips formed a surprised O, her eyes popping wide. How she managed to look sexy and adorable at once I didn’t know, but she did.
“Jordan Munroe, Emmy award-winning entertainment reporter,” she said, regaining her composure and crossing her arms across her perfect chest.
“At your service,” I replied lightly. She knew who I was and what I did. That was something, maybe. Her tone sounded less than praise-worthy. “I love your podcast. I listen every week.”
“Thanks,” she ducked her head. She never had liked being the focus of attention. It’s what made her a good journalist. She was never the story.
“You never were good at accepting praise.”
She let out a small laugh. “Yeah, well unlike you, I didn’t hear it all day everyday so…”
Okay, that was a little bitchy. “That’s a shame. You’re smart, talented, beautiful. It seems like you should be getting all the praise all the time.”
“And yet, believe it or not, that’s not the way the real world works.”
“Hey, I live in the real world.”
Now she had a proper laugh. “Los Angeles and entertainment television is not the real world Munroe. It’s a sun-tanned, Botox-injected praise-fest, and you know it.”
I was about to reply, but my ex-girlfriend and Sage’s former high school best friend Mandy came squealing across the room. “Oh my god, my two absolute favorite people from high school together. This is going to be the best reunion ever!”
Then she looped an arm through each of ours and led us out into the fray. It was just like old times. There was one person standing between S
age and me, and her name was Mandy.
* * *
Why had I come to this reunion I asked myself as Mandy dragged me across the outdoor area to the bar.
“Doesn’t Jordan look as hot as ever?” she asked, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder and showing off a large gold hoop.
“I guess,” I mumbled. The truth was he looked even hotter than ever. He’d always been good looking but he was no longer a boy. He had become a man. His body had filled out, his shaggy blonde hair was neater, and his piercing blue eyes had an edge to them. He’d always been blessed. A golden boy from a golden family whose mother was an ex-model and father an international surfing champion. He grew up on the beach in Hawaii, the eldest of four perfect children. That’s why he and Mandy had made so much sense in high school. She was all the blonde things too.
She was my opposite. I was dark, serious, and conflicted. Nothing much had changed. Mandy now worked in PR in Chicago, and I ran a popular podcast that focused on unsolved murders. I ran my podcast out of my New York loft, which was why I was here. My therapist said I had to get out into the world if I was going to heal. Upon reflection the St Martin’s high school reunion wasn’t the best place to start.
Just walking through the town today had brought back so many memories. At the school itself, I hadn’t even made it through the gates yet. I just couldn’t. It wasn’t surprising. I was there in the dorm when the police came to tell me my parents had been murdered. It’s not the sort of moment you forget.
“Two chardonnays,” Mandy said to the bartender. That was Mandy; she didn’t even bother to ask what I wanted. I took the chardonnay and clinked my glass to hers when she toasted our friendship. It was hardly the moment to complain about her wine choice. She had been a good friend to me, that was certainly true, and how had I repaid her? I’d made out with her boyfriend at the prom. Yep, I was a great friend. Not. Mind you she didn’t know, which was probably why she’d put up with me all these years.
“I’m so glad you came. Right up until I saw you standing there I was sure you would cancel.”
“Me too.” I’d come close so many times. “A promise is a promise though.”
“Absolutely. I wish Jack had come with me. I’m dying for you two to meet, and I don’t want it to be at the wedding.”
“I’ll try to get to Chicago. Maybe this weekend will be the life-changing breakthrough I’ve been looking for.”
“I hope so. And I don’t think you need to change your life, I just want you to spend less of it inside your apartment. You live in New York, girl, you are totally missing out.”
We were joined by Candace Van Hooten, who as always was desperate to talk to Mandy and not the least interested in me. I let my attention wander to where Jordan was talking to his fan club on the other side of the room. As usual he had a throng of admirers around him. Back in high school even when there were two guys to every girl he attracted way over his quota. It sort of made sense now he was a minor television celebrity, though how he’d ended up a journalist was a mystery to me. I was the journalist. I’d edited the school newspaper. I’d gone off to NYU to study journalism.
His eye caught mine, and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, “You checking me out?” I was, but I returned my attention to the women in my circle. Mandy was explaining the difference between two shades of blue to Candace. Apparently one could have a long conversation about the difference between midnight blue and navy blue. I wasn’t missing that much by staying at home if this was what people discussed.
Then Jordan headed our way, and my heart skipped a little beat and my body betrayed me. Oh yeah, I’d been missing a lot more than discussions about dresses. I’d been missing the gut-wrenching, exhilarating feeling of lusting after someone I couldn’t have.
* * *
So Sage was still friends with Mandy. Good intel. I wondered if that was going to be an issue. It was a known fact that Mandy and I split amicably after high school. She went to Chicago and I went to the West Coast. It was also true, because she’d told every person on the planet, she and her fiancé Jack were getting married at Thanksgiving. Mandy definitely wasn’t pining for the good old days with me. To me that made our past a non-issue, but maybe for Sage it wasn’t.
I sauntered toward her group as Mandy was dragged away by Candace leaving just Sage and me.
“How is Candace, just call me Candy, Van Hooten today?”
“Still faking being sweet and as bewildered as ever by why Mandy is my friend, but now she is also well-informed on the intricacies of the color blue.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind. How is your fan club?”
I laughed. She’d always called them that. “They’re fine. A little older, a little wiser, and even more flirty.”
“You always were a player. You know what they say about reunions and weddings…” Her voice trailed off, but I didn’t let her off the hook.
I was not a player, not then, not now. Yes, I like the ladies, but I like them one at a time and usually for more than one night. “I must not be much of a player, Scoop, because I have no idea what they say.”
“Forget it. How’s Tim.”
My brother Tim had been a couple of years behind us at school. He’d been a shy guy with a big brain, and Sage had always looked out for him. “Still at MIT, still a genius.”
“That’s good. Real good. Makes me happy.” And she smiled, a big genuine smile that tugged at my heart strings. It was a smile that didn’t look like it got a whole lot of use. She’d always been kind of sad back in the day, but I really had hoped time had healed those wounds. And ridiculous as it was, I was jealous it was Tim who brought out that smile. I wanted it to be because of me.
Her glass was empty so I offered to get her a drink. “Sure, but can I have a red. I don’t drink white.”
“Then why did you?”
I knew the answer as soon as I asked the question. Mandy. Damn, ten years later and Mandy was still running our lives. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
“We’ll see.”
She didn’t have a clue how attractive she was, or how much I wanted her. Sage wasn’t on my radar at all until the day I heard her parents had been killed. We were freshman, and I was still struggling to find my feet. Pennsylvania was a long way from Hawaii. Just wearing shoes everyday was a monumental adjustment. I was homesick and lonely even though I’d made friends and was playing sport.
I couldn’t fathom losing my parents and realizing I didn’t have a home to go back to anymore. After that day I always kept my eye on Sage. Not in a creepy, stalker way. I always said hi, I sat near her in class, and I angled my way in to work with her on group projects. I couldn’t do much, but I tried to make her feel less alone.
When she started working on the paper I became her regular source for locker room gossip and insight. That’s how we connected. After every game she’d be outside the locker room, and often after practice as well. We’d walk together across the ovals and back to our dorms. We weren’t friends exactly but we were…something. I didn’t know she was Mandy’s best friend until Mandy and I hooked up. It never occurred to me. Mandy was bright, bubbly and popular. She wasn’t the It girl, but she was in the It crowd. Sage was not. She was always off to the side, watching and learning.
It didn’t matter. We kept doing our thing until prom night when I let my emotions get in the way of common sense.
When I returned with the drinks, Sage was talking to our year’s other orphan, Rachel Smith. Rachel was a foster child of one of the teachers and kept to herself. I guess she and Sage had a thing or two in common.
“Hey Rachel, how are you?’ I leaned in and kiss her cheek. “You look great.”
“Uh, thanks.” She blinked at me. Another girl not used to receiving compliments. “I’ll catch you later Sage.” Then she disappeared like smoke.
“I guess she’s not a fan,” Sage teased taking the glass of red from me. “Is your ego bruised?”
“I’ll cope.
”
“No doubt. She didn’t enjoy high school. She’s here under sufferance. It’s not personal.”
“What about you? Are you here under sufferance?”
I searched her beautiful face for clues as she formed her answer. If she had to think about it, there was a story there.
“Not sufferance exactly. Just, it was hard to make myself come.”
“Because of your folks?” I asked in a low voice. It’s not exactly a casual topic to discuss over drinks but then she’s made a life producing podcasts that deal with unsolved crimes. I’ve listened to her show and she references her own situation. It’s not a secret that all the questions she needs answered are still open.
“Not just them,” she said, her look knowing as Mandy rejoined our group.
I’m one of the reasons she didn’t want to come. Oh, the irony.
One thing is for certain. I’ve never backed away from a challenge. I need to get her to forgive me, forgive herself, and let me kiss her again all in the next two days. Game on.
* * *
Why was I standing here talking to Jordan? More to the point, why was he talking to me? Everyone else at this reunion would be happy to kill an hour with him, so why wouldn’t he just move on?
“Are you being nice to Sage, Jordan?” Mandy said as she joined us again.
“Of course Mandy.”
She meant well. She always meant well but my girl Mandy was not subtle, not in the least.
“Good. Do not spook her.” She pointed her finger at him.
“Why would I do that?’ he asked.
“Oh, honey,” she patted his bicep to reassure him. “You won’t mean to do it, but you will. Remember when she disappeared from prom? We don’t need a repeat performance.”