by Lo Brynolf
So much internal screaming happening right now.
“I love you too.” I beamed at him before he walked away and laughed when he turned back around and caught me staring at his ass. I went back to the bed and picked up my phone.
Evie: So help me God if you just ghosted on me again.
Evie: ......
Evie: I’m going to unfriend you everywhere in 5, 4, 3, 2....
Callie: OMG, woman! Are you sure you’re not the drama major? ::face palm::
Callie: Everything is freaking perfect.
Callie: He loves me.
Evie: WHAT?!
Callie: And I love him. We’re in love. It’s good. REALLY good if you know what I mean.
Evie: Love, I’m so happy for you! I knew it in my heart that you were soulmates.
Evie: Also, though—‘it was good’? GIVE ME DETAILS RIGHT NOW!
I scanned Bash’s room absentmindedly as I tried to think up a response that would convey my need to keep our relationship close to my heart, at least for a little while. My eyes landed on his bookshelf, and I walked over to it and crouched down. Love filled my chest as I stroked the spines of the romance novels on the bottom shelf, and I realized why.
We loved each other as fiercely as the characters in those books, and I knew it with all of my heart. This kind of love was precious, and I wasn’t going to let it go. Knowing my answer, I stood and typed it quickly before throwing the phone on the bed and walking away to meet my man.
Callie: Sorry, these lips are sealed. You know I’m bashful about that kind of thing. ;-)
The End
Epilogue
Bash
Five years later
“OKAY. YEAH, MAYBE FIFTEEN MINUTES out. I’ll be there soon.”
I ended the call and slid the phone back into my pocket, continuing my walk toward the CIBC Theatre. I half-jogged across the street, weaving around those who walked too slowly. As I moved with purpose, I thought back to all of the shit Callie and I had to go through to get where we were today.
After we finished Playing with Fire, I watched in awe as Callie gracefully dealt with the aftermath of Professor James’ assault. She’d shocked me more than once with her maturity and strength throughout the sordid process. Once the story leaked and hit the local news stations, a former student named Jade came forward as well and filed sexual assault charges against him. With her report, Callie’s statement, and my evidence, it was more than enough for the court to charge him. It was a hard few months, but it was worth it in the end. Callie and Jade were satisfied, and our bastard of a director was behind bars.
We made it through the rest of the year by sticking close to our group of friends, focusing on finishing school and auditioning for post-grad Summer Stock theatre—together. We could get through anything as long as we had each other. When we graduated, we both landed paying gigs doing Summer Stock in Pennsylvania—her in Philly and me in Allentown. We made the short distance work, sharing an apartment between the two and spending most of our time outside of rehearsals exploring the city—and each other.
About six months ago Callie and I had arrived in Chicago, fresh-off a stint with a national touring company performing Rent six times a week. Seeing her face light up on stage night after night was worth every exhausting second. Don’t get me wrong, I loved acting as much as she did, but living in and out of suitcases for months at a time was exhausting.
When I sat her down after the show ended, we had a long conversation about long-term goals. Mine had shifted, and I wanted to do more behind the scenes. Callie completely supported my dream of going back to school for my master’s degree in Theatre Lighting Design. I’d applied to a lot of schools, but when I found the one here, it was like fate smiled down on us. The week I’d received my acceptance email, we were in Chicago on a quick getaway. Callie had fallen in love with the city and decided she was ready to put down some roots, too.
J
The signal at the crosswalk flashed orange and I stopped, glancing at my watch. I needed to get to the theatre and fast. Everything was planned to a T, and I’d never forgive myself if I screwed it up.
Callie had just started rehearsals for a brand-new pre-Broadway show, and it was the talk of the town. Her name had been in the news, on the theatre message boards, and I felt it in my bones that this show would be her big break. I was so fucking proud of her for making her dreams come true. Luck had been in my favor and I’d scored a job on the lighting crew for the production, and it was like everything had fallen into place. With the experience I was gaining in my new job, and everything I was learning through my master’s program, I was well on my way to reaching my dreams, too.
My dads would check in constantly, begging for updates about us and the show. It didn’t take long for them to love my girl as much as I did. Her parents were the same, albeit a bit weirder. I’d never want them to change, though—Callie’s quirks came from them and I adored each one. Every time they called she would roll her eyes, pantomiming as her mom attempted to convince her that the Greek gods had a part to play in all of it. She’d laugh it off when her mother explained that a love like ours didn’t just fall into place.
But I started to think maybe she was right.
I reached West Monroe Street and glanced up at the marquee for the CIBC. Shuddering, I pulled my phone back out and opened the group text. Everyone needed to be in place if this was going to work. Plus, we had a reservation across town to celebrate.
If she said yes.
Bash: I’m outside. What’s her ETA?
Evie: Almost there – five minutes! Stop texting me, she’s getting suspicious!
Brenda: We’re on the balcony with your dads!
Tucker: Just got here. It took me forever to tidy up and set the romantic ambiance for later. Dude, your condom is super dirty.
Tucker: CONDOM
Tucker: CONDO. You two have a dirty CONDO. Jesus.
I rushed down the alley and into the unlocked side door that a coworker had left open for me. My hands were shaking horribly as I made my way up on stage.
Two minutes to go.
J
The cavernous space was dark with the exception of the small track lights that lined the aisles. When the double doors creaked at the entrance, I heard a distant British accent followed by a slam.
With that one noise, that simple sound, the guys upstairs took their cue. An electric spotlight rotated behind me toward the doors, casting Callie in a halo of light.
She was stunning. I took in her curves, highlighted by a retro black dress that poofed out past her hips. Her hair fell in soft waves past her collarbones, and I wanted nothing more than to have her next to me.
“What’s going on?”
“Walk straight toward my voice, Sweets.”
“I can’t see anything!”
Maybe the spotlight was a bad idea.
I could see her, but knowing she was basically blind, plus her penchant for hurting herself? She’d probably fall down the steps before I could ever get the ring even close to her finger.
Jumping off the stage, I took the steps two at a time until we met in the middle.
“Babe, seriously...what are we doing here?”
Taking her hands in mine, I glanced around the auditorium. Hundreds of folded, elegant velvet seats stared back.
“Look at all these empty chairs, Callie. Each and every one will soon be filled with people who are in awe of your talent, your beauty, and your heart.”
Her face flitted down to where we were joined, without a doubt worried about how hard I was shaking.
“I’ve been in awe of you since the second I met you. We’ve been through so much, Sweets. Some would say we’ve been through the performance of a lifetime.”
She laughed lightly, and I knew she agreed.
“The thing is, no matter how much drama we have to deal with, I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone but you. I love you more than anything. All those people in the audience can have you when
you’re up on that stage, but I promise I’ll always be your number one fan.”
Her breath hitched as I got down on one knee.
“Calliope Ann Miller, will you let me play the biggest role I’ll ever have and let me be your husband?”
Silent tears streamed down her face as I pulled the velvet box from my pocket. I opened it, the sparkling two-carat vintage ring casting rainbows on her skin. “Marry me, Sweets.”
In typical Callie fashion, a simple yes or no wouldn’t do. She threw her arms around my neck and tackled me, both of us falling backward as she crashed her lips against mine.
“YES! So much yes,” she cried.
Shouts and applause came from our family in the balcony as I kissed her beautiful face.
It was the start of a new adventure, and she was the best costar I’d ever have.
Acknowledgments
Writing this book was a long process. I have the attention-span of a goldfish. They say it takes a village, and it really does. Writing took time from my husband, my kids, my friends, the laundry—it wasn’t easy. This book world also gave me some of the best friends that I will ever have. All of these people deserve a thank you for being supportive and calming my needy self.
And yeah, it’s long this time, but it’s my first book, so give me a little break. ;-)
First, my tripod. Y’all (see, my northern-ass can use it properly) have supported me since the first word, hashing out scenes and encouraging when I was full of self-doubt.
Kate Farlow, my person. You’ve been with me since I first dove into the deep-end of this world in 2016. I never thought I’d find someone eight-million miles away who shared the same soul. You are my calm, my voice of reason, my teacher, and my best friend. I freaking love you, dick. And you’re getting more squeeze-hugs. #tripodforlife
Heather Orgeron, my goldfish, the only woman I’d consider polygamy with. Seriously. Where were you hiding my whole life? Thank you for loving me. Thank you for the late-night video chats, the funny kid-stories when I wanted to cry, and for always being my constant. I’d never be who I am today without you. I can’t wait until we’re in-laws. I love you more than shiny things. #tripodforlife
Shauna and Rachel, my real-life best friends who totally inspired the weird crap that comes out of Evie and Callie’s mouths. You didn’t even look at me like I should be institutionalized when I told you I wanted to write a book. You have supported me through every crazy dream I’ve ever chased, and you will always be my number ones. I love you guys.
Hilaria Alexander, what started as a trial-run has transformed into a pretty freaking amazing friendship. You’ve taught me so much about this industry, music, and culture. Thank you for reading some very-rough words and giving me the push I needed to finish this thing. I couldn’t have done it without you, and that’s the truth. I love and admire you.
Andrea Johnston, this book would NOT be the best version of itself if it weren’t for you. You changed the way I thought about my characters, and challenged me to think outside the words. Your selflessness and talent and friendship are all the things I aspire to have someday. Thank you for
Dani Fusilier, Jodie Larson, Leisa Rayven, Kathy Schofield, Kate Spitzer, Carey Heywood, Kim Jones, Becca Hensley Mysoor, Megan Addison, Marisol Scott, and so many more… this book wouldn’t be what it is without you. It really does take a village to deal with me. Lol. I love you all SO much more than you know. You guys forever have my heart, and you’ll never get rid of my needy-ass. I like you too much.
My betas/early readers/guardian angels, Dani and Kaffy– I have no words. You took a chance on me and I’m forever grateful to you.
Staci, Kandi, and Brittainy, I wouldn’t even be in this world without you guys and your words. I’m so very thankful for you all. Love you all.
Alyssa Garcia, the most beautiful things come out of your brain. Thank you for dealing with my crazy and for making a cover that I’ll always be in love with. You were amazing to work with and an even more amazing friend. Keep those pictures of my little diva coming!
To my editor Emily Lawrence of Lawrence Editing, this book wouldn’t be anything without you. Thank you for turning something rough and jagged into the smooth, polished words I can be proud of.
To Juliana Cabrera, the format queen and an even better friend! Thank you for always making me laugh and for making my book so pretty.
To Give Me Books, THANK YOU for taking a chance on me. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but you’ve exceeded every expectation and more. I’m so happy to be part of the GMB family. <3
Thank you to every blogger, author, reader, and friend who has shared, read, liked a post, or supported me in any way. You are the real rockstars. Without you, my words would just be ink on a page. Thank you for taking a chance on the new kid in town.
LOLOLAND! I love you guys. I can’t wait to see our weird little group grow.
To my hometown people, if you knew I was writing a book, decided to read it, and have gotten this far— thank you for still saying hi to me at the grocery store and the school when you see me in public. I love the community we live in, and I love all of you!
My parents and siblings, who are the main reason I’m this weird. Love you all, but especially a thank you to my big sister for instilling in me a love of reading and writing at such a young age. I’m so thankful you do that for so many others.
Finally, to my husband (and my babies, but they won’t be reading this for about twenty years…. or ever.) Si, you’ve sacrificed the most during this rollercoaster of a book. You’ve stood by while I pouted, snapped, went a little more psycho… and you did it all with a smile and extra snuggles. Thank you for supporting my dreams, no matter what they are. You are my constant. I’m so glad I stalked you and convinced you to marry me. I love you more than anything in this world.
About the Author
Lo Brynolf was born and raised in southeast Michigan. A lover of all things artistic, Lo grew up performing on stage and in choir and attended Eastern Michigan University to major in Theater Arts. She now resides in the same small town that she grew up in with her wonderful husband and three tiny humans.
CONNECT WITH LO
Facebook: http://bit.ly/authorlobrynolf
Facebook (reader group): http://bit.ly/lololand
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/lobrynolfGR
Instagram: @authorlobrynolf
Excerpt of Boomerangers by Heather M. Orgeron
ONE
Spencer
I love sex. I love the power, the intimacy, the euphoria it brings.
Don’t misunderstand, I’m not a slut. God, the mere thought of the word makes me cringe. I’m simply a woman unashamed of her desires. A woman who knows her own body and wants you to know yours just as well.
For instance, did you know that the clitoris has roughly twice the nerve endings as a penis? In fact, it is the only body part, male or female, that exists solely for pleasure. That’s right, ladies. Sex is supposed to feel good. If it doesn’t, call my office and make an appointment. I’ll see what I can do to help.
No, I’m not running some scandalous operation. I am a family psychologist specializing in sex therapy, or more commonly known simply as a sex therapist, and I love my job. There are few things I find more rewarding than knowing I’ve helped an individual or couple learn to find pleasure in what I consider to be one of the most vital of ways.
There are many reasons, beyond the usual emotional connection, that make a healthy sexual relationship important. Sex contributes to your overall well-being. It has magical powers. I’m serious. It’s scientifically proven that sex releases hormones that both calm and relieve stress. It is a natural antidepressant as well as pain killer. Therefore, next time you feel like pushing your man away because you have a headache, consider taking one for the team. By the time you reach orgasm, that headache will have been long forgotten. I swear by it.
So, if I’m such an expert, you may ask yourselves how I ended up here. A thirty-thre
e-year-old woman with three children by two different men—not presently married to either. Stop judging me. Some problems can’t be solved in the bedroom, and apparently, I attract those kinds of problems.
You see, I’ve only had sex with three men, and consequently, two of those relationships resulted in tiny humans whose sperm donors wanted no part in raising.
When I was nineteen, and in my sophomore year of college, two years into a broken heart, I met Tate Tenning. He was a senior and the star of the football team. His blond curls, blue eyes, and perfect ass were just too much for my drunken mind to refuse. We hooked up in the backseat of his Explorer during a frat party, and a whirlwind romance ensued. We hit it off in a big way. That man could make my body scream, and he was a good boyfriend, too. Tate was kind, attentive, and he worshipped the ground I walked on. We traveled a lot and partied even more. About a month after he graduated, we took a trip to Vegas to celebrate, and when we returned, I had a ring on my finger. He was a good husband, for the most part, and we were happy, young, and in love. Fast forward a few months, a positive pregnancy test, sonogram, and two heartbeats later...Well, I’m sure you can piece together the rest of that story.
Lake and Landon were born six months after our divorce. Tate didn’t even bother coming to the hospital, but I’d wanted my children to have a father. I had hopes that he would eventually come around. So, I put his name on their birth certificates, and at my father’s insistence, filed for child support. For a few years, he was no more than a check in the mail. His measly seven hundred dollars a month barely put diapers on their asses and clothes on their backs. My parents paid for their daycare so that I could finish school and made sure we always had food on the table. They’d already been paying for my apartment since I’d started college, so they simply upgraded me from a one bedroom to a two, and we made it. It was hard as hell, but we did it.
The plan had always been to return to my hometown of Cedar Grove after school, but my best friend, Gina, who was sticking around to work for her cousin, Dillon, at his new practice begged me to join her. I’d already completed my masters in psychology, so Dillon paid for our additional training, and once we’d completed our obligatory hours of observation, Gina and I went to work at NOLA Sexual Health.