All of Me (All of Me #1)
Page 1
ALL OF ME
(Part 1)
A Novella
By
TAMSYN BESTER
&
BAILEY TOWNSLEY
ALL OF ME.
Tamsyn Bester. Bailey Townsley.
© 2013
All rights reserved.
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
This eBook is licensed for your personal use only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Edited by Emma Mack, Tink’s Typos.
Cover Design by © Rebecca Berto, Berto Designs.
Photo Copyright © BigStock Images.
Formatting by Max Henry at Max Effect.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
About the Authors
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The first people we would like to thank are our families, for supporting us and for putting up with us when we were always working.
This has been an amazing journey, and we’ve had the odds stacked against us from the moment we started this project – but we made it, we’re at the finish line, and we can’t wait to get this book out there.
To the readers who have shown their excitement for this book, THANK YOU – you were the fire that kept this project alive.
Lastly, to our fabulous editor, Emma Mack – YOU.ARE.AWESOME! Enough said - And to Nikki Hardie, Amanda Heath, and Michelle Davis Grad, who all Beta read this in the final stages, your feedback has been invaluable. WE LOVE YOU!
Lots of Love from South Africa,
Tamsyn & Bailey
CHAPTER 1
LACY
My new loft apartment is quiet when I walk in and I can vaguely make out the box shapes in the shadows. I flick the light on before discarding my purse on the kitchen counter and walk through the boxes I have yet to unpack. I’ve been back in Chicago for less than forty-eight hours and I already wished I were back on the white sand beaches of Cape Town. For the last two years, the small bustling metropolis situated in the Western Cape of South Africa has been my home, my safe place and my refuge. It is the place I ran to after my life turned to shit and now that I’m back I understand why running away was so appealing.
I chuck off my ballet flats, not caring where they land, and check my answering machine. Oddly enough, unlike all the other times I’ve checked, there’s a message waiting. My finger hesitates over the button and I wonder if listening to this message is really a smart decision.
Against my better judgment I press the button and my sister’s voice fills the room. “Lacy…mom said she saw you in the streets today…are you home? Why didn’t you let us know you were back? Call me when you get this, we need to talk. All of us.”
I delete it, hating that my mother had spotted me today. There goes my stealthy return, I think. Great. I should’ve been more careful. The last thing I need is the unwelcomed attention of my family, especially when they pretty much wrote me off before I left. I wanted nothing to do with them but now that they know I’m back, they’ll be sharks circling a whale carcass. I’m not going to subject myself to an audience with them willingly.
My phone chimes from the kitchen and I amble the short distance from my bedroom to answer it. It’s a text from my friend Cassandra.
SKYPE?
I make my way over to my desk and power up my iMac before typing out a response.
LET’S DO IT.
A few minutes later, I open Skype and let Cassandra know that I’m online. Seconds later the dial tone comes through the speakers and when I answer, Cassandra’s beautiful sun kissed face fills my screen.
“Hey bitch,” she greets in her South African accent.
“Hey Cass! How’s it going?”
“Same old, same old. Except you’re not here, and I fucking miss you. Come back!”
I chuckle, smiling for the first time since my return. “I miss you too, Cass. How are things with Kyle?”
She sighs with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Fuck knows,” she replies, “he’s worse than a woman sometimes, I swear. He can’t decide if he wants us to be more than friends or not and I’m getting bored with him. I need some new eye candy.”
“You’re always on the lookout for new meat,” I tease playfully, even though it’s the truth.
“Well that’s only because I’m tired of playing with boys. I want me a man, a big strong sexy man who knows what he wants without me having to point it out. And preferably someone who doesn’t suffer from pencil dick syndrome.”
I know exactly the kind of man she’s looking for. I’ve had one before, only it didn’t end well. I think about Jason and then banish all thoughts of him just as fast. It only took me two years and running away to a different continent to get over him and the last thing I need is to think about the bastard now.
“Anyway, how is it being back home? Have you spoken to your family yet?”
It’s my turn to sigh. Chicago hasn’t been my home for a while, but I couldn’t stay in Cape Town forever. I’ve managed to stay off the radar for this long but eventually I had to return to reality.
“They know I’m back,” I reply. I lift my feet onto my big office chair and rest my chin on my knees. “My mother saw me somewhere today and when I got back to my apartment I had a voice message from my sister.”
“What did the bitch have to say for herself? I hope they groveled like dogs.”
Cassandra does nothing to hide her disdain for my family. She knows everything about them and why I ran away. It’s odd really. We met at some rooftop party and hit it off. Three months later I was living with her at her Clifton beach house and had become fast friends with her ‘crowd’ of Cape Townians.
“She just said I should’ve told them I was back in town and that I should call her so we can all talk.”
Cassandra snorts and I realize that I miss her fiercely. She’s my only friend, really. All my so-called friends in Chicago ditched me as soon as the tabloids labeled me “Chicago’s Biggest Public Scandal To Date” and wouldn’t even return my calls, let alone be caught dead in public anywhere near me.
“I hope you told them to go jump off the Empire State building and into peak hour traffic.”
“I deleted the message. There’s no point in talking to them if they’re going to make me relive everything. I need to move on now.”
My eyes mist over because I really do miss my friend. She’s been all I’ve had when everything else fell apart.
“I miss you,” I say, grabbing a tissue on my desk.
“Ah girl, don’t you start crying, you know it will set me off too! It won’t be long and I’ll see you in person, but we’ll Skype often so you don’t forget what I look like okay?”
“Okay,” I laugh. “Tell everyone I say hi and go put Kyle out of his misery. Even I’m sexually frustrated on his behalf.”
Cassandra winks mischievously. “Oh I’m planning on teasing him later. We’re having a bonfire tonight.”
“Have fun. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Cassandra blows me an air kiss and waves before disconnecting our call. I feel better after talking to her and decide to follow her advice. I have to move on and live my life according my own rules. I have no one looking out for me, which is freeing in some ways.
I don’t have to worry about disappointing my family (done that) or being an embarrassment (done that too). Their unrealistic expectations no longer exist in my world and I’m determined to keep it that way, regardless of my last name.
I was fortunate enough to inherit a large trust fund from my late grandfather, which has supported my lifestyle after my family cut me off. I don’t live affluently but I’m more than comfortable, much to my parents’ displeasure.
Needless to say, I’m doing perfectly fine on my own.
CHAPTER 2
LACY
I throw my sheets off, unable to sleep. The sound of the cars below echo loudly in the streets and do little to soothe my busy mind.
The clock reads 4am and I’ve slept two hours at most. I slide out of my bed and saunter lazily into my office/dining room/living room. I turn my iMac on and open the files I’ve been working on.
When I was in Cape Town, Cassandra suggested I write a book about what she referred to as ‘my journey’. After the first two hundred pages flew out of me, I realized that getting it all out on paper helped and soon I was unable to stop. The first draft was finished before I came home, but now I’m contemplating whether or not I should publish it.
I read through the first ten chapters and before I know it time slips away from me. My phone chimes as my ‘6am’ alarm rings through my apartment and I stretch the tiredness from my limbs before heading into the kitchen to make a fresh cup of coffee.
Now that I have returned, I’d need some kind of routine, something to keep myself busy with. I decide that it would start with two hours of gym, and fortunately the building I live in now has one of those downstairs.
I change into a pair of black yoga pants and a purple sports bra that exposes my waist, and grab my matching black jacket. I finish my coffee, savoring the deliciousness, and devour a quick but satisfying breakfast before traveling down the twelve floors to the fully equipped gym.
I like my new home, and the privacy it provides from the world outside. I walk in and find what I assume to be the usual morning crowd milling about on various pieces of equipment. I find an unoccupied treadmill and slip out of my jacket.
After strapping my iPhone to my arm, I click on Miley Cyrus’s ‘Wrecking Ball’ and started warming up. I focus on nothing but the rhythm of the song and the burn of my muscles for a solid thirty minutes before I see him. His midnight black hair hangs a little longer than I remembered, his shoulders broader and his back far more defined.
My feet falter and I hit the emergency button to stop myself from falling face first onto the machine.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He doesn’t even live in this building. Seeing him again wasn’t part of my plan. My heart races and it has nothing to do with the thirty-minute run I’ve just subjected myself to.
I move toward the exit with slow steps, watching him carefully, watching the way the females flock in his direction. I understand the pull to him. I struggle not walking to him myself.
He smiles; laughing at something one of the women said, and the sound has me gasping for air. Jason Tate is devastatingly beautiful and is even more so after two years have passed. He’s the man who had taken everything from me, destroying me in the process, only to turn his back just as fast.
I was nothing more than a naïve nineteen-year-old girl who’d fallen for a man who could play the game of seduction far better. That shouldn’t have been a surprise though, considering he’s eleven years older than I am.
My feet stumble over each other and I fall into another man while staring at Jason, attracting more attention to myself.
After causing a bit of commotion, Jason’s piercing blue eyes land on me, and his face falls. My traitorous body wants to go to him but my survival instincts and need for self-preservation kick in before I can act on that idiotic notion. I turn to leave and as I reach the doors, I hear him.
“Lacy? Is that you?”
I rip my gaze from his and take off running towards the stairs. I could manage twelve floors, especially when waiting for the elevator would make it possible for him to catch me. I race up the stairs, stopping every three floors to catch my breath, but when I make it to my floor, I realize it’s no good. Jason has beaten me, and steps out of the lift just as I fling the stairwell door open. If I weren’t so out of breath, I would use every curse word in the English language and throw in some hand gestures for good measure.
But that wouldn’t have stopped him. That much I know. I stand in the hallway and Jason stares unabashedly, his face pale as if he’s looking at a ghost. It’s a feeling I’m quite familiar with. It feels like I’m also staring at a ghost.
“It’s you,” he says quietly, almost to himself. I resist the temptation to roll me eyes and walk towards my door, which he’s standing in front of.
It strikes me as odd though, that he knows which apartment is mine, but I focus on the more immediate problem. Getting as far away from him as possible.
He shakes his head as if to bring himself back to the present.
“Where have you been?” he asks. I ignore him and start opening my door. I try closing it in his face but his hand shoots out and stops me.
“Lacy,” his voice comes out stronger, laced with authority, “answer me.”
His tone angers me. He doesn’t have that kind of authority over me anymore. Not that he ever did. But there was a time when the strength of his voice made me want to listen to what he said. “I’d rather not,” I reply, my tone carrying a hint of petulance.
“Why?”
A deep, aggravated sigh escapes my chest and I spin around to face him. “Because you have no right to know.”
“That’s what you’re going with? Really? Very mature, Lace.”
I scowl. “Why does it even matter to you where I’ve been, Jason? If you really cared you would have tracked me down the moment I got on the plane and left.”
“I didn’t know you were gone, Lacy! I had to wait for things to blow over before I contacted you again. You don’t know what it was like after - ”
“Save it,” I say, cutting him off. “The last thing you should try do is get me to feel sorry for you. You weren’t the one who had to leave everything behind and start over. You left me to deal with the aftermath of our relationship alone.”
“It was complicated,” he argues. “I couldn’t just run after you.”
“Of course not,” I bite back, “you had to stay here with your fiancé. Or is she your wife now?” My eyes travel down to his left hand on instinct, noticing the absence of a wedding ring. That doesn’t mean much though. He could have taken it off before going to gym.
“That’s not fair, Lacy.”
; I look him in the eye and hope that he can see that I am no longer that naïve girl he knew. I’ve grown up and it’s no thanks to the silly little charade he had me play for his benefit. I went from being his willing puppet, hopelessly devoted to him, to being the fool he’d taken advantage of.
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say looking down. “It took me a really long time to deal with everything and I didn’t come back to relive it. If I’d known there was any chance in hell that I’d bump into you I would’ve chosen another city.”
Hurt flashes across his stone features but I don’t care. He deserves it. His phone rings and he frowns when he looks at the screen.
“Sorry,” he mutters, “I have to take this.”
“I don’t care, Jason. I’m going to shower. You can see yourself out.” I turn around and walk to my bathroom, not waiting for him to leave. Seeing him after all this time has messed with my head and I need a time-out.
***
After an hour in the shower, I get dressed and am relieved to find my apartment Jason-free. I decide to get out for a while and meander through the bustling streets to the Starbucks on the corner. They didn’t have Starbucks in Cape Town so I’m oddly excited to experience the caffeinated goodness. After I order and pay for my Latte, I leisurely stroll to Barnes & Noble to check out some of the newest releases. Most women have a penchant for handbags or shoes, and while I love buying both of those things, my real guilty pleasure is books. There’s nothing better than getting lost in a really amazing love story and shutting the rest of the world out.
As I peruse the shelves in the Romance section, I wonder about Cassandra’s suggestion; to publish the book I’d written while in Cape Town. I have a contact at HarperCollins who I could send it to but I’m not even sure if she’d be interested in what I’ve written. I’d also have to consider publishing under a different name because the last thing I want is my family knowing I’ve written about what happened between me and Jason. Then again, there isn’t any more they could do to me. They’ve already done everything possible to dissociate themselves from me.