by Cecy Robson
“So, then, why are you mad now?” Sean asks Hale. “Besides, she’s all covered up. Aren’t you, Becks?”
“I sure as shit am,” I reply, pulling the thick blanket closer to me.
“Things have changed since we were teens,” Hale points out.
“Because she’s your woman now?”
Hale quiets. “Yeah, that’s part of it.”
I smile, even though my eyes have that familiar sting of tears. I’m Hale Wilder’s woman. It sounds lovely. Sometimes, you need an inappropriate friend like Sean barging in while you’re sleeping naked with your man to show you how lovely it is.
I gather my puppies as they inch closer, loving the sweet scent of their fur as I kiss their heads. “Hi, babies,” I coo.
Hale slides back into bed, placing his arm around me. Sam immediately leaves me to spread out across his lap. “Sean, how did you sneak in here?”
“I didn’t sneak. Trin and Callahan are in Raleigh with her family. Something about her father meeting with the governor about the state of affairs. Or maybe they’re there checking out the local restaurants. You know how Callahan likes to eat. Whatever it was, they were worried and asked us to find you.”
Hale rubs his face. “We forgot to call her,” he says.
“I know,” I reply, immediately feeling bad.
“Yeah,” Sean agrees. “Trin was all beside herself when she couldn’t reach y’all. She gave us the passcode to the alarm. We saw your cars here, so we didn’t panic. We were both hungry from flying and decided to have us some breakfast.”
Sean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Me and Mason had bacon to start with. So did your dogs. They really love bacon. Especially the little one. I feel a lot better about that. I was starting to think she was some kind of vegetarian when she initially didn’t take it. I don’t know about y’all, but I don’t trust vegetarians. There’s something not right about turning your back on the meat God himself instructed to make into burgers. Hear what I’m saying? That’s blasphemous, as far as I’m concerned.”
Another little girl laugh from the hall. I throw back my head, laughing. Home sweet home, there’s no place like Kiawah.
“Why are you here?” Hale asks.
“Oh, for two reasons.” He holds up his spoon. “One is, we were worried about what was going to happen if you showed up at Becca’s Daddy’s place, so me and Mason hopped on the first flight down here, expecting to kick some ass.”
Hale glances at me, worried, and likely thinking about everything I went through. The pain from yesterday is gone. Will it be there in the coming weeks? Maybe even months? Yes. But with Hale by my side and some work on myself, I’ll be okay eventually.
“Is Trin still breastfeeding?” Sean asks. “I don’t want her stressed. She might dry up or something.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Sean,” I assure him.
“I texted her, anyway,” Mason calls from the hall. “Let her know everyone’s fine.”
“Thank you,” Hale and I say at once.
My head rests against Hale’s shoulder as Rosie cuddles closer.
“Speaking of breast-feeding,” Sean says. “Are you gonna do that?” He points to my chest. “I’m not an expert or anything, but I figured if Trinity could feed both those babies of hers with no problem, you—” He twirls his finger in a figure eight. “—and all that can feed a small village. Are you up to feeding a small village, Becca?”
“I think I owe it to the world to try,” I agree.
“Thank you for your generosity to the world,” Sean commends me.
“Yeah, thanks, Becca,” Mason calls from the hall.
“Sean, sweetheart,” I say. “You were saying something about there being two reasons you came down here?”
“You remember that don’t you, Sean?” Hale says. “Up until you were distracted by something shiny, namely Becca’s breasts?”
Sean sets his cereal bowl aside. “Oh, yeah.” He frowns. “But maybe Mason should tell you.”
Mason pokes his head in. “Is it all right to come in?”
Of course, he asks Hale. “Oh, sure,” Hale says. “Why the hell not?”
Mason eases his way in, carrying a folder in his hand and trying to keep from looking at me directly.
Sean points to the floor. “You see that?” he says. “That’s a thong. Torn off by a sharp set of teeth as near as I can figure.”
“Sean,” Hale warns.
“I think that’s why women don’t get the rashes I do,” Sean says, as if Hale hadn’t spoken. “They let their goods breathe, you hear what I’m saying?”
Mason pinches the bridge of his nose, as he often does in Sean’s presence. As he lets go, he slides the folder across the bed.
Hale lifts it. “What’s this?”
Mason meets him square in the face. “A major step toward ensuring all pending charges are dropped against you.”
Hale turns on the bedside light and flips through the file. I lean in, trying to read as Rosie repositions herself on my lap. “It’s a sworn testimony from my intern, Clark.”
“Oh, my God,” I say, scanning the document.
“He confessed to providing Cooling and Malroy access to your accounts and many others, as well as providing details on how he was placed in your employment, and how he was the one to contact the Feds,” Mason explains. “It’s amazing how the threat of incarceration for aiding and abetting will get a young man to sing.”
“Shit,” Hale says. “What’s next?”
“A good amount of help from the Feds. The head of the agency is trying to save face, and his job, by fastening his jaws over the throats of Cooling and Malroy. He’s secured warrants for their files, accounts, and businesses.”
“That’s amazing news,” I say, turning to Hale and squeezing his arm.
He keeps his attention on Mason. “When will they execute the warrant?”
Mason smirks. “They did so last night and raided both offices. Cooling and few of his partners were caught destroying evidence.”
Hale lets out a whistle.
“Yeah,” Mason says. “They said someone caught wind of what was happening and panicked. About an hour ago, the Feds caught Malroy and his wife trying to flee to Dubai.”
“Damn,” Hale says.
“It’s not official, but I’ve spoken to enough people at the bureau to know you’re off the hook,” Mason says. “The Feds still have to go through the evidence from Cooling’s and Malroy’s offices, but it looks good for you and really bad for them.”
Hale flips through the folder and through stacks of what appear to be letters. “What’s all this?”
“Becca wasn’t the only one looking out for your character,” Mason says. “Those are signed statements of support from your clients, praising you for what you did for them and how you always gave it to them straight.” He points to the hand-written letter on top. “I think you’ll find the one from Mrs. Valez especially touching.”
I cover my mouth. Hale doesn’t speak, holding the letter delicately in his hands. “Thank you,” he says.
“My pleasure,” Mason replies. “Come on, Sean. Momma’s expecting us at her place.” He looks at us. “We’re not going back to New York until tomorrow. How about dinner later? Trin and Callahan are promising to be back. They want us over at Landon’s. He and his fiancée have been so busy planning their wedding, they’re missing their family and friends.”
“Yeah,” Hale says, taking in my grin. “It’ll be nice to see all of y’all.”
They leave, Sean still munching on his cereal as they quietly close the door behind them. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell Hale, kissing his cheek.
He meets my gaze. “Becca, my love, it has to be.”
Epilogue
Hale
Summer arrived to lift our spirits and fall followed with almost as much enthusiasm. But winter was the best part of that year. All charges against me were drop
ped and I was given a very sincere and heartfelt apology from the new head of the FBI. The Feds destroyed Cooling and Malroy with all the evidence they discovered, along with eleven more of their associates, including my former intern, Clark.
The Feds assured Clark he’d get a lighter sentence if he cooperated, and he did. The little bastard barely received five years. Pretty good, given his pals received $5,000,000 fines and up to twenty-year terms.
Cooling and Malroy had flung mud on the wrong man. Not only did everything they attempted to do to me and the rest of their competitors turn against them, the investigation revealed there were a long list of victims. Cooling and Malroy had been doing this shit for years, placing pawns in almost every investment firm in the city and using their hard-earned research to make them rich.
It worked for a while, sure, as this sleazy shit often does, but then they got greedy and there’s a reason greed is one of the seven deadly sins.
I scroll through my emails as the spring sun beats down on me, my phone pressed against my ear.
“Did the merger go through?” I ask.
“Yes, Hale,” Neesa answers. “Every one of your clients who invested tripled the earnings on their stocks.”
“Okay. I wasn’t sure you’d get everything done, Jayla.”
She sighs. “When have I ever not done everything you’ve asked?”
“I’m not saying you don’t work hard, Martina,” I assure her. “I’m just saying you’re often distracted with my boy Mason’s tongue down your throat.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” she snaps. “It’s Friday and I’m trying to get out of here so we don’t miss our plane to Kiawah.”
Like I can’t picture her blushing. “Now, is that any way for my newest associate and potential future Vice President of Wilder Investments to talk to the big boss?” I ask. I adjust the blanket around me and Becca when the wind picks up. Yes, we’re outside, and yes, we’re very much naked.
The pause is almost as dramatic as I expect. “What did you say?” she asks.
“Aw, nothing’,” I add in my thickest southern accent. “I’m just making you an offer, is all. Go to business school. I’ll pay for it and spend the next few years grooming you to take over.” I look over at Becca. “I have better things to do with my time.”
“Hale, you’re . . . I’m going to . . . oh . . . you asshole.”
She starts crying. Neesa is cute that way. “See you tonight,” I say.
Becca is still yapping away on her phone, giving her assistant some final instructions. I slip back into my black sweatpants and jog back into the house to do some prep work, including popping open a nice bottle of champagne.
Today marks the first full week Platinum PR has been in full operation. Those spreads Becca organized to save my rep? Anyone and everyone saw them, helping her become the most sought-after publicist in the country.
Now, instead of working for the Cougars, Becca works for herself here in Kiawah or back in our penthouse in New York.
I fill the flutes, set up the little plates of appetizers Trin dropped off earlier, and gather a few small things from the guest bedroom. I’m just about finished when Becca enters the house, the dogs skipping behind her. She shuts the door and drops her blanket away, reaching for the sundress I peeled her out of earlier.
“One minute,” she mouths, holding out her finger and tugging on her dress. She doesn’t bother with panties. Why should she? We still have a few hours alone left.
I pass her the champagne when she nears. It splashes on her breasts when I pull her close and take a nibble.
“No, no,” she bites out to her assistant when I lick the champagne off her skin. “We need Tootles for this one. Let him know we’ll work around his schedule. . . . alright, sugar . . . we’ll talk on Monday, bye.”
Becca disconnects, laughing. “Hale! That poor thing probably thought I was yelling at her.”
“Hmm?” I ask, taking another lick.
She greets me with a smile. “You know, summer is starting back up in another few weeks. We won’t be able to make love out there once the tourists start showing up again.”
“We will if you’re quiet.” I kiss her lips and reach for my champagne, watching Sam and Rosie as they begin their daily round of tug of war. “Never mind. You don’t have it in you. My super ability to please you won’t allow your silence.”
She laughs again, the sound sweeter than the waves announcing the start of high tide. “You’ve got me there.”
I lift my glass. “What should we toast to?”
Becca strokes my chin, giving it some thought. “What about to the Anaconda of Wall Street giving Platinum PR one hell of a squeeze? Oh, and maybe our anniversary.”
“It’s our anniversary?” I ask.
She glances down all shy like. “It’s what I’m calling it. Today marks one year to the day that you first kissed me.”
“Does it?”
“Hale,” she says, sounding disappointed. “It’s the day we did that shoot.”
“With Tootles,” she presses when I stare back her. She sighs. “Never mind. I guess it’s silly.”
I take a sip of my champagne. “Does that mean you don’t want your presents?”
She lifts her head slowly. “Are you serious?” She covers her mouth, gasping. “You remembered?”
My smirk dissolves. “Baby, how could I ever forget?”
I motion to the dining room table where a scroll tied with gold ribbon rests in front of a framed black and white picture of that now infamous kiss. There’s Becca, her backside just barely covered, that black sheet pressed against her breasts, and me, my fingers tangling through her hair and my lips kissing hers.
My arm circles her waist as she lifts the photo. “You’re going to make me cry,” she says.
“Don’t do that,” I tell her, quietly. “Open the scroll. Maybe it will make you smile.”
She does, taking care not to rip the paper. She unrolls it and looks up at me. “I don’t understand. What is this?”
“The deed to this house.” I keep talking, ignoring her sharp intake of breath, and shrug like it’s no big deal. “We both love it so much I decided to buy it for you.” I take another sip of my champagne. “Offered Trin and Callahan a sweet deal they were happy to take.”
“I’m pregnant.”
I think I misheard. That doesn’t stop me from dragging my gaze down her belly and back up to her face. “What?”
Becca isn’t smiling. She’s glowing and beaming and doing all the things I’d expect her to do if she was pregnant with my baby. “I didn’t have the stomach flu a few weeks back,” she says. “My body was just, well, getting used to our baby.”
“Our baby,” I repeat. She nods. “You’re pregnant?” She nods again, barely able to keep still. “We’re having a baby?” She squeals and throws her arms around me.
I laugh and smile and lift her and just about stumble over every word I say, until I remember there’s one thing left to do. I place her carefully on the floor and toss back the remainder of my champagne, catching the three-carat diamond ring I placed at the bottom of the flute between my teeth.
Becca’s eyes widen as I fall to one knee. But then her tears start and my heart swells, and I can’t remember all the words I meant to say. “I had a great proposal all planned out,” I begin. “With these gifts, and food, and yeah . . . stuff.”
Becca covers her mouth, crying.
“I have to admit,” I say, my eyes stinging. “Your gift is better.”
I let out a breath and slide the ring on her finger. “We talk about forever, Becca. About how we share something special that will outlast time itself. I want to mark this day when we started over and you told me about our baby growing inside you with this ring. Will you marry me?”
“Yes!”
I kiss her belly, then rise and kiss her for all I’m worth.
I’m promising to love her and our child forever. And,
y’all, love has never looked so infinite.
This book contains excerpts from Inseverable and Eternal from the Carolina Beach Series by Cecy Robson. The excerpts have been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the final novels.
Read on for an excerpt from
Excerpt of Inseverable
Inseverable
A Carolina Beach Novel
by Cecy Robson
Prologue
Callahan
Three days.
That’s all I have left until this shit ends.
Three days shouldn’t feel like forever, not compared to the eight years I’ve bled to the Army. Thing is, good men have been killed in less time. In as quick as a blink, a squeeze of a trigger, or a small breath right before a grenade blows is all the time it takes to shove someone right out of life and well into death.
That’s what makes three days as long as it is. Three days is plenty of time to die.
My eyes tear when the wind picks up and shoots grime through the small hole of my lookout point. This blown out piece of cinderblock is only big enough to allow me a view of the street below, but not so small I don’t get smacked in the face with more filth. The tarp flaps above me as I spit out another layer of the dirt-sand mix spackling my teeth. Christ Almighty, I need a swig of the water resting near my elbow. But my thirst, like everything else has to wait.
I have a job to do.
I adjust my hips against the cracked cement of my bed, bathroom, and home all rolled into one, thankful that the agonizing ache stretching over the lower half of my body has settled into a now familiar numbness.
Out of all the points I’d scouted, and all the accumulated years spent in this position, I should be used to it. And in a strange way, it should almost be home. Yet nothing ever has been home.
But in three days, maybe something finally will be . . .
I shove my thoughts away and breathe as my fellow Rangers stalk along the street. It’s then I see them, a mother and daughter walking straight toward my team. Less than one city block separates them from the men counting on me to keep them alive.