A few good shakes later, and I was set.
Thirty minute prep time my ass, Bobby Flay. I just beat your record by twenty minutes. Suck on that!
It was obvious I could teach Mr. Flay a thing or two in the kitchen.
When I felt like the chicken was coated enough, I tossed one in each pan and decided to use the cook time to clean up.
I ran from the kitchen to the hall closet and pulled the vacuum out. I’d just plugged it in and started running it over the carpet when all hell decided to break loose.
First, I ran over the cord with the vacuum—and let me just say that Dyson wasn’t lying, they really do have more suction—I know this because that little bastard sucked the cord right up and promptly started making noises that sounded like a cat drowning.
Before I even had a chance to turn the damn thing off, the smoke detectors started going haywire.
I spun around like a mad man trying to figure out what set them off when I saw bright orange flames shooting up from the stove.
Now, typically, I wasn’t a total idiot, but with the pressures of trying to plan the perfect proposal all week, the added stress of finding out the first ring I bought bit the big one, and then realizing that I’d just set my kitchen on fire, it should be said that I clearly wasn’t in my right mind.
That’s why, instead of smothering the grease fire I’d started, I ran to the sink and filled up a cup of water.
The only saving grace in that epic fail was the fact that I wasn’t able to locate the gallon pitcher in all the chaos, and therefore, had nothing but a juice glass at my disposal to dump water on the fire.
Not that that really mattered. The second that water hit the flames, they burst up to new heights, taking my eye lashes and a good portion of my eyebrows with them. With everything that was going on around me, the first thing I remembered thinking was that I was going to beat Bobby Flay to a pulp if I ever saw that asshole in person. The second thing was that I’d never get the chance to propose to Stacia, because the minute she walked in and saw the destruction I caused, she was going to kill me.
My brain kicked back into gear—somewhat—right before the flames reached the cabinets, I went for the whole bag of flour I’d just bought, and turned it over on the fire. I dumped the entire contents onto the stovetop and floor.
Plus: the fire was out.
Minus: I’d gone a little overboard at the grocery store and purchased a five pound bag of flour.
My first reaction was to grab the vacuum to try and pick up some of the white powder dusted through the kitchen, when the sound of that drowning cat reminded me that our Dyson was currently sucking in its last breath… along with the rest of its cord.
I was standing there like a dumbass with my hands in my hair, taking in the devastation around me, when the front door burst open and Stacia came stomping in like a mad woman. “Who the hell is Angel you cheating piece of…” she stopped midsentence and scanned the living room and kitchen.
“What the hell is going on?!”
Chapter 6
STACIA
I busted into the house ready to unleash hell on my adulterous soon-to-be-ex when the scene before me stopped me in my tracks.
I thought I heard Gavin mumbling something about hating Bobby Flay—whatever that was about—and it looked like the kitchen had been on fire.
Before I had the chance to inspect the damage, a crazy whining, hissing sound led me into the living room. That’s where I found my $400 Dyson with the swivel ball laying on the floor and its cord sucked up in the motor.
Well, that’s money down the toilet.
There was a reason I never let Gavin anywhere near the kitchen or any of my expensive appliances. Mainly because I wanted to keep them!
“Gavin, what’s going on? Why is the house destroyed?”
I looked at him to see him wringing his hands nervously. “Um… surprise,” he whispered lamely. “I was trying to make you a special dinner and clean up the house, but…” he waved his hand to encompass the mess around us, “… things got a little out of hand.”
“A little out of hand?” I hissed through clenched teeth. I felt like steam was going to start shooting out my ears at any minute. “A little out of hand?! Spilling a carton of milk is a little out of hand, Gavin! Setting the kitchen on fire and destroying a $400 vacuum cleaner is not a little out of hand!”
My eyes drifted to the stove top and what I saw there had me gasping for breath. “Is that… is that my Emeril Lagasse Teflon cookware?” I couldn’t hear anything past the blood rushing in my ears.
Gavin didn’t say anything, just stood there with a hangdog expression on his face. But he didn’t need to say anything. I was on a roll.
“Who were you cooking dinner for, Gavin? Huh? Your little stripper girlfriend Crystal Chandelier from that strip club Angels? Did I mess up your romantic dinner plans?”
“Huh?” he asked stupidly. “Who the hell is Crystal Chandelier? And when did Cloverleaf get a strip club?”
“It’s not in Cloverleaf you ass! But you already know that seeing as you shelled out 500 bucks on your little skank during your trip to Houston last weekend.”
He shook his head like he was trying to clear it out. “Wait, what are you talking about?”
I pulled the credit card statement out of my purse and shoved it into his chest. “You tell me. The evidence is there, clear as day.” I felt the tears burning the back of my eyes and Gavin’s figure started to blur in front of me. “You’ve been cheating on me with a stripper, haven’t you?” I sobbed. “That’s why you’ve been acting so weird all week, isn’t it?”
I stood there as Gavin looked over the statement and watched as his eyes grew wide. After several seconds, the paper floated to the ground and Gavin advanced on me. “Baby, you think I’m cheating on you?” he asked as he brushed my tears away gently. “Stacia, you have to know I’d never do that to you. I love you, sweetheart. Cheating on you has never even crossed my mind.”
He sounded so sincere that I almost believed him. I really wanted to believe him.
“Then what’s been going on with you? Why have you been taking phone calls in the bathroom and throwing up every five minutes? And what’s Angel’s?”
Gavin led me over to the couch were my beloved vacuum lay, broken and worthless on the floor, and pulled me onto his lap. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry if I’ve been upsetting you, but it’s not what you think, okay?”
He shifted slightly to his side and reached into his pocket. He opened his hand and showed me a hideous ring. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say by showing that to me. “Did you win that from one of those machines at the front of the store or something?” I asked, still totally confused.
He visibly cringed and dropped the hunk of costume jewelry onto the coffee table. “No, believe it or not, I paid for that. Angel’s is a jewelry store in Houston. I went to get your engagement ring last weekend.”
I eyes darted back and forth between Gavin and that god-awful ring. The first thought going through my mind was holy shit, he’s going to propose! The second was oh God, he was going to propose with that!
My thoughts about the ring must have read clearly on my face because he burst out laughing and pulled me into his chest, burying his face in my neck.
God, I love his laugh.
When he pulled his face back, he looked at the ring then back at me. “It’s pretty terrible, isn’t it?”
That got a smile from me. “Well, what do you expect when you spend 500 bucks on an engagement ring, you cheapskate.”
He chuckled again and planted a kiss on my lips. I picked up the ugly ring and studied it, trying to convince myself it was something that I could wear. “It isn’t so bad, I guess.” I slid the ring on my finger and smiled at Gavin brightly. “Besides, it doesn’t matter what it looks like. If you bought this ring so you could propose to me, I’ll happily wear it every day if it proves how much I love you.”
GAVIN
I to
ok her chin between my thumb and index finger and turned her face to mine. “You’d really do that for me?”
Stacia reached up and brushed a lock of hair from my forehead. “Of course. Gavin, I love you more than life itself. I’d do anything for you.”
I shifted again and reached into my other pocket. “So, if I told you that I realized today what an eyesore that ring is and proposed to you with this one, you’d say yes?”
I opened my hand and showed her the ring Lizzy, Emmy and Savannah had gone with me to buy earlier that day. Her eyes turned glassy with tears, and I was pretty sure she’d stopped breathing. “Stacia, baby, inhale.”
She sucked in an audible breath and graced me with her beautiful smile. I’d never get tired of that smile. I wasn’t blowing smoke when I told Claire that her smile brightened up my world. She gave a slight nod and wrapped her arms around my neck, squeezing as tightly as she could. “Yes! Yes, Gavin. Of course I’ll marry you!”
I pulled away slightly and slammed my lips against hers. She’d just made me the happiest guy on Earth.
“I love my ring, baby. It’s gorgeous!”
“I’m glad, sweetheart.” I stood from the couch, still holding Stacia in my arms and headed for the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I’m taking my new fiancée out to dinner to celebrate starting our lives together.”
She got that gooey look in her eyes at my romantic declaration. “I love you so much, Gavin,” she whispered.
I kissed her again and responded, “I love you too.”
“Hey! So you never told me why you’ve been taking all your calls in the bathroom.”
I pulled the front door shut and shifted her weight around so I could lock it. “I’ve been playing phone tag with your folks all week so I could get their permission.”
“You are so sweet, you know that?” I opened the door to my truck and deposited Stacia into the passenger seat. “What about all the puking?” she asked.
I rubbed the back of my neck, totally embarrassed that she’d noticed that. “Honestly, babe, I’ve been freaking out all week. Ever since I bought that first ring, every time I thought about proposing to you, I’d get sick.”
From the look on her face, I instantly realized that was not the right thing to say.
She cut her eyes at me, and I immediately started thinking of ways to get my ass out of the dog house for that one. “So the thought of asking me to be your wife made you physically ill?”
I grabbed her face and laid the most passionate kiss I could manage on her. After a few seconds, the tension left her body and she melted into me. I knew I’d gotten her back… at least for the moment.
“Love you more than life itself, baby.” I declared, then took in all the brightness she gave me just from that smile.
THE END
About the Author
Jessica Prince
Jessica is a wife, mother, wino, coffee addict and avid a lover of all types of books, but romances are her main favorites. Her husband likes to say reading is her obsession but she just says it’s a passion… there’s a difference. She’s been writing since she was a little kid and finally decided to take the leap and actually publish when Picking up the Pieces came to her. Now that Jessica’s been bitten by the writing bug she just can’t seem to stop.
Jessica currently lives in Houston Texas and when she’s not spending time with her family she’s reading, writing, or trying her hardest not to melt in the Gulf Coast heat and humidity.
Just Breathe
By
Madeline Sheehan
© Madeline Sheehan Books 2013
Staring out the passenger side window of my father’s BMW, I watched the neighborhood pass by—houses, windows, and perfectly manicured lawns all blurring together—not really noticing any of it. Nothing could penetrate the fluttering sense of unease deep within my gut.
It was my first day back to school after nearly three weeks away.
My first day back since… the incident.
I glanced around to where my brother sat in the back seat behind my father, staring out the other side of the car. His long body was cramped uncomfortably into the small space allotted him, and like me, he appeared deep in thought, paying little to no attention to his surroundings.
Joshua was a year younger than me and incredibly handsome. While he looked like our mother, blond hair and blue eyes with exceptionally strong facial features, I looked like my father, with light brown hair and brown eyes, my face heart-shaped and my features rounded.
But it wasn’t Joshua’s good looks I was focusing on, it was his split lip and the bruises on his cheek. They were healing quickly and had already begun fading, but they were still visible. Worse, they were all my fault, all because he’d stuck up for me.
I turned back around and glanced at my father who sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, both his hands gripping tightly to the steering wheel, his eyes front and unwavering, his mouth set into a thin, hard line.
Also, all my fault.
My family was in shambles. My father wasn’t speaking; my mother hardly got out of bed; they were all embarrassed and ashamed.
And it was all my fault.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of my high school rapidly approaching. Redmond Academy, an elitist prep school for the offspring of only the wealthiest. Where it wasn’t just an honor to attend, but a rite of passage. I’d once worn my uniform proudly, but now, looking down at my pleated blue skirt, I felt awkward and uncomfortable.
Swallowing hard, I faced front, clutched my shoulder bag a little tighter, and watched as the building that had once been my castle, but now was my personal dungeon, came completely into view.
We were right on time, fifteen minutes before the first bell would ring, signaling it was time to get to homeroom. We were also right on time to be on display for the gathered cliques milling around outside… talking, laughing, gossiping.
The car jerked slightly as my father came to a complete stop beside the curb. Without putting the vehicle in park, not even bothering to turn his head, he said curtly, “See you later.”
Nausea rose from my gut, burning inside my throat as emotion began to cloud my vision. Fumbling, I unbuckled my seat belt and pushed open the car door before my father could see me crying. By the time I had the door shut behind me, my brother was already halfway down the walk and my father was quickly pulling away from the curb.
I was alone.
Shouldering my bag and trembling slightly, I turned to face my school, zeroing in on the front doors, keeping my gaze solely on those doors and ignoring the people standing around me. The people, my peers who at my arrival had grown quiet, were now speaking in hushed whispers while staring directly at me.
One foot in front of the other, I told myself. I could do this; I just had to place one foot in front of the other and so on and so on. And so I did, I walked at a normal pace, staring only at my destination, the eight steps that led to two sets of double doors that, once open, would take me directly into the fiery pits of hell.
Loud throat clearing could be heard to the left of me. Someone else coughed, then “Slut!” was intentionally yelled out, followed by more sarcastic cover-up coughing. And then came the laughter. It started as snickering but quickly grew into a loud tittering that began to spread like wildfire. By the time I’d reached the first step, my hands were clammy, my armpits drenched in sweat, and my eyes blurry with unshed tears.
I felt much like I’d imagine Anne Boleyn or Marie Antoinette must have felt as they were marched to their deaths, spit upon and mocked by an unruly mob, unfairly judged by the same people who’d once adored them.
Thankfully the hallways, aside from a few quickly scattering freshmen and sophomores, were still relatively empty. I picked up my pace, walking faster than I’d ever walked through these halls in the entire three years I’d attended this school, past the freshman wing, through the sophomore hall, up two short flights of stairs,
then making a quick right to—
The junior wing. A group of varsity cheerleaders in full uniform stood in a huddle to the right of me, their cheeks painted in our school colors, pompoms in their hands. To my left stood another group of girls, their uniforms pressed, their hair perfectly coiffed and makeup effortlessly done. They were putting away designer backpacks inside lockers decorated with magazine cutouts of celebrities and decorative mirrors and sticky-note reminders.
And they were talking animatedly with one another, gesturing with their hands and laughing loudly.
“I saw Josh this morning. You know what that means, right?”
“Oh my God! Do you think she’s back?”
Shrug. “Her brother’s back, she must be.”
“Ugh, whatever. I can’t believe she’d come back here after what happened.”
“I know I wouldn’t. I’d never show my face in town again.”
“I seriously cannot believe her parents haven’t packed up and left town. Dana’s mom told my mom that her dad came to the club to play golf on Saturday and no one would talk to him. No. One. And nobody’s seen her mom since the whole thing started. My mom thinks she probably killed herself from the embarrassment.”
“My mom won’t let me out of the house! This is all her fault! Just because she’s a whore doesn’t mean I’m a whore! I even told my mom I wasn’t friends with her anymore!”
I spun around, wanting to get as far away from my old friends before they noticed me standing there. I bolted into the stairwell and had just cleared the first flight and was swinging around for the next when I smacked right into someone and fell backward, landing hard on my backside.
Stories for Amanda Page 30