by Megan Smith
“Mom and Dad,” Jackson sighs. “Chloe and I owe you a lot for everything you’ve done for us.” My eyes tear up as I take in my in-laws who are sitting hand–in-hand together. “When we first found out that Chloe was pregnant and had just been kicked out of her house, you welcomed her into our home and your hearts with open arms without hesitation.”
It still stings thinking about my parents kicking me out.
“When we felt that we were in over our heads with our newborn son you helped to calm our nerves and reassured us we were doing just fine. Throughout my life I’ve watched the way you two are with each other when you don’t think anyone is watching. It’s just the two of you existing in this world and we are blessed to have you as role models for how a relationship should be. Your love conquers all. Years from now I hope that Chloe and I share the same love you share with each other.”
I don’t think there is a dry eye in the whole place when Jackson and I are finished with our vows. We turn around to face Brad now that we’re done. Jackson looks to me with a huge smile on his face as he winks at me and quickly turns back around again.
“I forgot one last thing…we’re pregnant and none of you had anything to contribute to that part of our lives!”
Everyone laughs and cheers knowing how long we’d been trying to expand our family. Guests stand up to give us hugs and congratulations.
We had almost forgot why we were here until Alex says, “Aren’t my mom and dad supposed to be getting re-married?” An uproar of laughter ensues while everyone makes their way back to their seats.
After things settle down, Brad starts speaking again because there is no way I could.
“Chloe and Jackson, today you have renewed the promises and vows you made to each other on your wedding day. It is with pleasure that I conclude the ceremony of renewing the vows of marriage that joined you and forever binds you as husband and wife. You may now kiss!”
Jackson brushes the back of his hand on my belly before sliding them around to my hips. I reach up on my tiptoes to cup his handsome face in my hands.
“I love you, Mrs. Cahill.”
“I love you, Mr. Cahill.”
Leaning towards one another we seal our promises once more with a kiss.
One thing I’ve learned on this journey with this man, my soul mate, my best friend, my forever is that true love prevails above every bump in the road, every moment in time, every deep breath you take is better with your one true love.
THE END
USA TODAY bestselling author Megan Smith is a New Jersey native who creates the memorable characters her fans have grown to adore.
Smith is a wife and mother, who makes time for her family, professional life and the creation of the characters. Fans of The Love Series — Trying Not To Love You, Easy To Love You, Hard To Love You, Let Me Love You, A Christmas To Love You — are captivated by relationships, special bonds and family ties pervasive in Smith's emotional, energized and engaging work.
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As always, I have to thank my husband and son first and foremost. They put up with a lot from me from the time I start a book until the very last word is written. I love you never seems like enough, but I do with everything I am.
My loyal readers: It’s the end of the Love Series! Seven books later and all their stories are complete. Thank you for all your support that you have shown me over the years. I hope I did you all justice with this book.
Elaine York: I say this each and every time, you seriously keep me sane! You understand the pressure that I feel. You’re always there for me when I need a good kick in the ass and also encourage me along the way too. I’m a lucky girl to have you as a friend.
Linda and the girls at Sassy Savvy: THANK YOU for everything! You’re always just a call, text or DM away and in this world it makes all the difference for you to have my back.
Emily Goodman: You. Are. My. Lifesaver! I don’t know how I ever functioned without you.
Heather Davenport: As always, thank you for keeping shit real with me.
Toski: Thank you for saving me with this cover when I was in the middle of a freak out.
Wade and Whitney: Thank you for being class act models and agreeing to do my cover.
Sommer Stein: Thank you for another beautiful cover and a super quick turnaround.
Jennifer Wolfel: Thank you for all your help and suggestions with this book! You’re always there for me when I need you and that’s hard to find these days.
Mobsters: Thank you for all your hard work!
To all the bloggers who have spread the love of this book, this series, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart!!!
Trying Not To Love You (Book 1, The Love Series)
Easy To Love You (Book 2, The Love Series)
Hard To Love You (Book 3, The Love Series)
Let Me Love You (Book 4, The Love Series)
A Christmas To Love You, (Book 4.5, The Love Series)
Made To Love You, (Book 5, The Love Series)
Stay For Me, A Love Series Spin-Off
Finding Us (Book 1, Finding Series) – A peek at chapter on in the back of this book
Finding Ours (Book 2, Finding Series)
Coming next
Finding Happiness, (Book 3, Finding Series)
Jasmine
What is that god-awful sound?
Beep, Buzz, Beep, Buzz, Beep, Buzz.
Groaning, I roll over and cover my head with my pillow. “Make it stop!” I whine.
Best friend, Summer, giggles then the noise thankfully stops. I pull the pillow off my head and hit her with it just as she turns the lamp on.
“Turn that shit off!” I yell, shielding my eyes from the light. I keep saying to myself that I’m going to replace that light bulb with one that’s wattage isn’t the equivalent of the damn sun but I never get around to doing it.
Moaning, I roll to my side and I think back to how much we drank last night. Summer and I were having a great time shaking our asses all over the club and drawing too much attention to ourselves. I like being in the shadows, Summer though, she loves the spotlight.
“Rise and shine!” Summer says entirely too loud, shaking me from my unpleasant memories of them. My head is pounding and I feel like I have cotton shoved in my mouth.
I pull the covers down off my head, “What time is it?” I ask while yawning.
“Almost noon, Rex will be here soon,” Summer replies.
Summer and I met Rex at Club Two Twelve when we first moved into the city a few months ago. He and his brother own the place. He’s a good looking guy but not my type. He’s what I would label a ‘pretty boy’…messy, dark brown hair, about six feet tall, lean and muscular but not cut. Rex is always clean shaven which makes him have more of a baby face and appear younger than his twenty-one years of age. He also has these long eyelashes that make his blue eyes pop. Rex has this cosmic smile and a great personality, both of which made becoming friends with him so easy.
“Why did we tell him to meet us for lunch again?” I whine, pulling the blanket back over my head.
Summer walks around and pulls the covers off me. She’s all business. “He takes us to lunch every Saturday, brat. Now get your ass out of bed, Jasmine Jennings, and into the shower.” She throws the covers on the floor at the foot of my bed and leaves the room.
Summer strolls back in a minute later. “Make it a fast shower so I have hot water too.”
I salute her as she walks back out. “Hey, what the hell were you doing sleeping in my bed last night?”
She starts laughing from somewhere in the apartment. “I have no damn clue.”
“Nice,” I mutter under my breath. What would we do without Rex taking care of our drunken asses?
I’m going to have to grab a quick lunch today because I have an afternoon dance class to instruct. If they ever found out I was teaching at a place like East Side Dance Studio they would have a coronary, which is another reason why I’m
doing it. Along with teaching at the dance studio, I also manage the coffee shop in our apartment building part-time. I don’t really need to work, thanks to my inheritance, but it’s something that keeps me busy and in shape.
Once I finish getting ready I take a seat out on the balcony overlooking the busy street while I wait on Summer. I glance down at the cars and do a double take. I swear I saw my mother and father standing next to a black sedan but when the woman turns it’s clearly not my mother.
Summer and I moved to New York City a few months ago to hide from them. By moving here I knew they would have a hard time finding me. If I never saw them again I’d die happily.
I despise the existence of my parents, Michael and Vivian Jennings. Just saying their names makes me want to throw up. My parents never showed me an ounce of love.
They controlled me until the day I graduated college and that was the last damn day that I would ever answer to them. I was given access to my trust fund when I turned twenty-two, which just so happened to be the same day I graduated. Before the ceremony began that afternoon, I had my bags packed in my car with no intention of giving them or my old life a second thought. I swore to myself that I would never let them exert their parental authority over me again, and that’s exactly what I’m doing here. In New York City. With Summer.
Michael Jennings is loaded. He was handed down the family business from my grandfather. My father is the owner of a huge investment firm in New Jersey. He’s a straight forward, condescending asshole. For some reason people look up to him and countless others want to be him. Who the hell would ever want to be him is something I cannot wrap my head around. When my father speaks, people listen. If someone doesn’t agree with him on something, Michael Jennings would change their minds. He could make someone believe anything.
Vivian Jennings is the queen of charity. She’s always working on getting some kind of contribution from someone. Shit, the charity work came before me most of the time. My mother is always proper, one of those ‘never a hair out of place’ kind of person who looked down on everyone around her who didn’t occupy the same rung or higher on her social status ladder. Not many people know that she has a drinking problem, a big drinking problem, she hides it well. I’ve found her a few times passed out drunk in the sitting room with an empty bottle of vodka tucked next to her chair. When Marie, our housekeeper, got sick a few years ago, I helped her take the recycling up to the corner one freezing winter night. As I glanced down into the can it was filled with empty vodka bottles. That’s when I really knew she had a problem. And that everyone was ignoring the elephant in the room.
Thank heavens for Marie, our housekeeper and my nanny while I was growing up. She’s the one who took care of me and understood me better than my own parents. She lived with us since before I was born. At least that was the one good thing my parents did for me, they hired someone to take care of me so they didn’t have to. They only needed me when it was convenient for them. I was forced to go to charity auctions and act like the doting daughter. Mom entered me into beauty pageants because other women in her circle of fake friends had entered their daughters. She enrolled me in proper etiquette classes so I wouldn’t taint the family name. I also had my own personal trainer who worked with me from the time I was thirteen until I left for college. Marie would always be there for me though, whether I just needed to cry on her shoulder or yell about how much I hated my parents.
The intercom to our apartment buzzes and snaps me out of my walk down misery lane. “Miss Jennings, Rex is here for you and Miss Shultz.” Rex is on the approved list but Henry still likes to let us know that he’s here.
“Send him on up, Henry.” I yell from the balcony.
Rex knocks three times before walking in, looking delightful. White Nike hat flipped backwards, tight white T-shirt, faded blue jeans and white Nike Airmax’s, something as simple as this makes him sexy as hell…and he knows it.
“Damn, are you girls ever ready on time?” he teases as he takes a seat next to me out on the balcony.
I roll my eyes. “Shut your face, I’m ready.”
“Well, where’s your other half?” Rex banters back.
“I’m right here. Let’s go,” Summer answers before I can even get a word out.
“Damn, Sum…” Rex whistles.
Rex and Summer have been dancing around their feelings. I really wish they’d either screw each other’s brains out or stop the flirting altogether and just stay friends. I’ve tried to meddle in their relationship, hoping to help, but both of them deny they have feelings for each other. I know it’s all just an act and time will tell.
“I have to be at work in an hour,” I tell them both as we step into the hallway. “I forgot that I’m filling in for another instructor today.”
They both roll their eyes as we walk out of the apartment.
After lunch, I haul my ass down three blocks to make it to the studio on time. If I wasn’t there to start the girls with their warm-ups right away, it would be complete chaos for the rest of the class.
“Hey, Renee,” I say as I step into the studio.
“Hey, girl!” she calls back as I make my way down the hall to my classroom.
As soon as I place my bag down on one of the empty chairs along the side of the room, two of the girls come skipping in the door. “Okay, girls, you know the deal. Start doing your warm-ups until the others get here.” I wave to the moms on their way out the door.
I shake my head in disgust thinking about my conversation with one of my girls’ moms just the other day. Apparently, when the moms drop off the girls most are dressed like they are going to the gym to meet up with their “trainers” and others are dressed to the nines going to meet their “sugar daddies.” I live on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, which is safer and more upper class, but it’s repulsive to think of what the moms are really doing when they drop their daughters off. I’d like to think it’s not true and it’s just chatter but sometimes I’m not so sure.
A few days ago, the mom of one of my favorite girls, Mia, asked me to babysit for her because she had a business dinner on a Saturday night and her normal sitter was home with the stomach bug. She offered to pay me two hundred dollars for two hours of my time. I think I had a lapse in judgment that day when I agreed to help her. When she returned home that night, the two of us sat around and finished off a bottle of wine in front of the fireplace. We actually had a lot in common and I was enjoying her company. When Mia fell asleep, her mom spilled the details on some of the other moms and it was more than I ever cared to know about. Now I can’t look more than half of them in the eye for thinking about their dirty laundry that was aired out at Mia’s house the other night.
Within ten minutes, my jazz class is full of eight year olds and we get down to business. I work the girls hard but I know they can handle it. A few of the other dance instructors have commented to me about how well they are all doing. I smiled and told them of course they were doing well; they had one of the best teachers. If there was one thing I was good at, it was dancing. And I was going to make sure I passed that off to my students.
Two hours later, class is over and the girls are ready to drop. As for me, I was just getting warmed up for my weekend.