Irreparably Broken

by K J Bell

  Brady didn’t sell off his father’s company, knowing it was his father’s wish for him to have it. Brady hasn’t gotten involved with running it, though, either. Other than consulting on legal matters, he stays away. It’s just not something that interests him. He wants to play the drums, help with the Center, and hang out with me.

  After the news about Sheila broke and Nate was arrested, investors and clients began abandoning ship, and the company nearly sank. Brady hired a charming young genius to run the business and take over as CEO. Brady added the newcomer on as a partner. He’s a wiz with numbers and terrific with people. Within months of accepting Brady’s offer, Tug had most of the clients and investors begging to return to Gibson Capital. I’ve always said Tug could charm a nun out of her panties if he had the chance. The business world embraced Aidan Hunter the moment he took the helm. His face has been featured on Forbes magazine, and he’s been listed as one of America’s most eligible bachelors. And of course he never gloats about any of it.

  Tug and I have remained friends, and not a single thing has changed about our relationship, even his incessant asking me out. It’s all in fun, and Brady has even helped me store away some “I’d rather” jokes. Just this morning I’d told him I’d rather pick lice off a monkey than go out with him. I pity the poor girl he finally falls in love with.

  On the other hand, Tug still manages to drive Liv bonkers. He relentlessly teases her. Yesterday I thought she might disown him when he filled Harrison in on Liv’s most embarrassing childhood memory. Harrison laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes, and I’d never seen Liv so red. I’m sure it was anger and not embarrassment that caused her coloring.

  Rather than causing Tug bodily harm, she laughed with us and waited until later that night to retaliate. Tug leaves a gym bag in his car and works out every morning. Last night Liv replaced the contents of the bag with her lacy bras and underwear. I would have loved to have seen his face when he arrived at the gym and opened his bag. In typical Tug fashion, he showed up at the house, hugged his sister, and praised her efforts. Then he told her to sleep with one eye open. Many things have changed, but many, like the two of them, are exactly the same.

  When we moved down here, Brady and I bought a house on the water. Liv and Harrison live there with us, but Brady and I spend most of our nights in room 214. Spending our alone time together in the room where we’d first made love makes both of us happy. We spent my twenty-first birthday in this room. There was no rowdy party with alcohol pyramids like I’d always imagined. No, it was just me, Brady, and the tiny life growing inside me.

  In about four months, the quaint space is not going to be nearly big enough, and we’ll have to spend more time at our house. Brady and I are having a baby. Apparently birth control is not one-hundred percent reliable. It wasn’t a planned pregnancy, but it is a blessing. A baby that will always know its father, and never wonder if he or she is wanted.

  We’re on the bed, and Brady is on his stomach with his head in my lap. My eyes follow his shoulders to his hips, landing on the colorful swirls of orange and red – his newest tattoo, peeking out of his shorts. He’d wanted to remove the tattoo of Vanessa’s name, but I talked him out of it. She’d brought us together, and her name on his skin is a reminder of that. I smile, thinking about when he came home and showed me what he had done to it.

  He added a colorful sun above her name, and now after the word Vanessa it says brought my sunshine. I was touched immensely, and I didn’t even give him a hard time about the nickname he’ll forever call me.

  Brady smiles, and I follow his eyes to the manila envelope the ultrasound tech handed us a few weeks ago. Brady, being the sardonic fool he is, had handed the tech a pink tissue and a blue tissue, instructing her to place the appropriate color inside. Moments ago he begged me to finally open it. He can’t stand waiting a second longer. He’s sure it’s pink, and I’m sure it’s blue.

  I pick up the envelope and hand it to him. “Go ahead, open it.”

  “I changed my mind. It’s a girl. A sweet, beautiful blue-eyed girl who looks just like her mama.” His elated smile makes me melt.

  I snatch the envelope back from him and quickly swipe my finger under the envelope’s flap, releasing the seal. I peek inside and try to keep my mouth flat.

  He quirks a brow and smiles knowingly. “I knew it. It’s a girl.”

  “I didn’t say that,” I tell him point-blank.

  He throws his arms around my waist and presses me to the bed. “You don’t have to, Sunshine. I can read you better than anyone.”

  I pull the pink tissue from the envelope and toss it at him. He chuckles. We look directly at each other and at the same time we say his mother’s name. Mona, our baby girl.

  “We need a middle name, too.”

  He has a devilish grinned pasted to his face. “I have one.”

  “What?”

  “Sol.”

  “Sol? What the hell does that mean?”

  He laughs. “It’s ‘sunshine’ in Spanish.”

  I slap his chest. “No freaking way are we naming our daughter something you made up while you were thinking about porn. Besides, I have a name picked out already.”

  “Okay, what do you got?”

  “Olivia.” My eyes well up. His sister and my best friend.

  “Mona Olivia. It’s perfect.” He smiles.

  I press my lips to his and kiss him softly. He’s mine, and I love him beyond anything I've ever thought possible. Sometimes painfully so. “I love you, Brady.”

  “I love you, too. Thank you for picking up the pieces and gluing my heart back together. Without you, I would’ve been irreparably broken.”

  Acknowledgements

  Writing is a journey of learning and growth. I have made mistakes, but I learned from those mistakes with a lot of encouragement from those who stood by, and nudged me to write the story better, and not to settle for fine. I owe them all many thanks.

  For starters, my incredible family for supporting me and putting up with me. Seriously, between being over caffeinated and not sleeping I think they thought I was headed for the nut house. Tom (my husband), for treading lightly while making honest suggestions and for allowing me to shove my laptop at him when I wanted to know if something sounded right. My kids have sacrificed a lot of mommy time, and eaten a lot of junk food. I promise to make it up to them.

  Without my mother, I might still be writing this book. She babysat the little one for countless hours so I could concentrate. There aren’t enough words to thank her. I love her dearly.

  Big time thanks to a few friends: Vicki, for reading many versions, and nicely demanding that I explain certain points further. The phone call I tried to push aside is the best example. I love her feedback. She’s the best book-buddy evah! Liz, who fell in love with Brady from conception, a sincere thank you. I might just have to buy her husband a pair of timberlands. Kim is my biggest cheerleader. I love her enthusiastic texts. She’s kept me going.

  When I was clueless to what bloggers did for Indie authors, Nicola and Denise at Flirty and Dirty Book Blog, politely explained it to me. An extra-special thank you to Nicola Farrell, for believing in this from the start when I e-mailed and asked if she’d reveal the cover. Her oohhhh mmm geeeesss, are my favorite to read. She answered many subsequent e-mails that usually started with, “I have no idea what I’m doing. What is…?” I was just a tad obnoxious. An additional thanks to Emily with The SubClub, and Kristie with Three Chicks and Their Books for their support.

  A thousand thank you’s, to the readers and bloggers who have e-mailed me along the way to ask when Irreparably Broken would be out. Just knowing you were excited to read this story kept my fingers on the keys.

  Finally, so much love for Jessica Park, who taught me that if I have the perfect word the others are just words that fill up space. It took a really big “colander” but I think I finally understand. I’m not half the writer she is, but I aspire to be. And if I’m lucky, maybe I’ll end u
p as classy as she is, too.

  Suicide is a very serious issue.

  If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide, call the national suicide prevention hotline at 1800-273-TALK or visit: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

  About the Author

  K J Bell grew up in California and has spent the last eight years living in Massachusetts with her husband and three children.

  After years of working in the corporate world, she took on her most rewarding job as a full time mom.

  People often ask, what made her decide to write? And the answer is…she didn’t. Writing found her. She was inspired to write when her daughter innocently waved at people in a deserted cemetery, but didn’t know where to begin. After years of debating, she finally put fingers to keys bringing her first novel, a paranormal romance titled The Locket, to life.

  Irreparably Broken is her first new adult novel.

  Writing is a passion she simply can’t live without and looks forward to publishing many books in the near future; including the second book to The Locket story, Shadowed, and another new adult novel, Cut Too Deep.

  Links:

  http://kjbell.com/

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  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-K-J-Bell/326538807458760?ref=hl

  Twitter:

  https://twitter.com/authorkjbell

  Goodreads:

  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6994530.K_J_Bell