Life Happens on the Stairs
Page 34
I giggled. “A ship name for my painting?”
“You should consider it.”
I turned around and wrapped my arms around Tyler’s neck. He pressed his lips to mine, squeezing me tight. Taking a step back, I had to admit my man looked beyond gorgeous. He was wearing a white dress shirt, top two buttons undone, dark gray dress slacks tailored perfectly to his long legs, and polished, black Italian leather shoes.
The night of the Bears game, I couldn’t say no to him. My urge to run had been destroyed when he’d left me, and I would never run again. As the fireworks faded above us, he had begged me to stay, then pulled me into his arms and kissed me with such desperate passion, I fell in love with him all over again. We didn’t go to the game. Instead, we walked through the city streets, talking and mending our wounds until we almost froze to death. After retrieving our cars, I went back to the Hilton Hotel with him and we ate dinner in the restaurant.
When I told him I’d been accepted to SAIC, he let out a sigh and said, “Thank God. I just confirmed I’d go to Northwestern. The stars are finally lined in our favor.”
We stayed up all night, making plans and daydreaming. A month later, we had both moved to the city. He lived five blocks away from me in an obscenely priced high-rise apartment. I moved into my efficiency flat, content and happy, especially now that he was only blocks away. We’d meet in the mornings and jog, then head our separate ways for the day, spending most evenings at one or the other’s place. Once again, I liked our private world, and I kept it all to myself. Not even Sarah knew about him.
“I’m glad you made it,” I said. “I missed you this morning. I hate jogging alone.”
“Sorry. I had to talk to my professor before class.” He stepped back and looked me over. “You’re absolutely stunning.”
“Not so bad yourself.” I gave him a quick kiss. “Happy birthday! Congratulations. You’re no longer a teenager.”
“Thank you.” He smiled, inclining his head. “Are you ready for some dinner?”
“After you humor me and look at all our hard work.”
“Fair enough.” He glanced around the room. “I’ve already purchased a piece, but I’ll take a look at some of the others. Certainly not that shattered glass shit. What the hell is that supposed to be?” He smirked, staring at the installation.
“Wait. What did you buy?”
He turned back to me. “I need artwork for my apartment.” He nodded over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’m going to let someone else have our metaphor?”
I pointed at the painting. “I’ll give that to you. I’m not taking your money.”
“Money? Elsie.” He shook his head. “My money is your money. It’s a wash.”
I sighed. “We aren’t there yet, Tyler.”
“Yes, we are.” His eyes sparkled under the lights. “I’ll prove it to you.” He took a step away from me. “May I have everyone’s attention?”
The chatter in the room faded as people turned to see who was talking.
I bristled. What the hell was he doing?
“Thank you.” Tyler nodded to the crowd. “This will only take a moment. I’m Tyler Vaughn, and this is my lovely girlfriend, Elizabeth.”
I narrowed my eyes at him for saying my real name. No one knew me as Elizabeth.
“If you don’t know Elsie’s work, please refer to the most beautiful piece in the room, over there in the corner.” He shook his head. “Not sure why it’s tucked back there, but I can pardon the mistake.” His honeyed accent sounded imported amongst the Chicago crowd.
Sarah looked at me with a “What the hell?” look on her face. I shrugged.
“Regardless,” Tyler continued, “the reason I’ve solicited your attention is because this amazing girl, right here, is the love of my life.” He turned to me, took a step forward, and bent down on one knee. “Will you please give me the honor of spending the rest of my life with you?”
A princess-cut diamond ring appeared between his fingers. I held my breath at the sight of the sparkling solitaire.
“I love you more than life itself,” he said. “Please, be my wife. Come live with me. Let me be the person you want to come home to every night.”
A gasp in the background. Another person said, “How beautiful... ”
Tears filled my eyes. “Yes... I would love to be your wife.”
He nodded with that soft look in his eyes that I loved, and then he slipped the ring on my finger. The room erupted in applause. He stood and cupped my face with both hands.
“I can’t tell you how happy this makes me.”
“Me too, Tyler. I love you.”
“And I love you. May I kiss you in front of a room full of strangers?”
“Anytime.”
And that’s what he did.
I hope you enjoyed my first novel, Life Happens on the Stairs.
I would appreciate if you could leave an honest review and let me know what you thought of it.
Thanks for your time.
LEAVE A REVIEW
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I thank God for everything in my life and for giving me a spirit of determination.
To my husband Jerrod, thank you for enduring the years of me lamenting over a project that you’ve believed in from the beginning, and your unconditional love for over 20 years.
Emily, my dear sweet girl, thank you for reading the book seven times and helping me stay sane. Without you, I’d have given up years ago.
To Joey for your constant encouragement and curious questions. You’re going to write one someday too, my love.
Angie Ruwe, my dear friend, thank you for never giving up on my dream with me and for all your prayers.
Carrie Write, you’ve been with me for years, supporting my crazy ideas, thank you for always being there for me.
Nancy Hill, Cece Ruwe, Hailey Watts, Cora Hashbarger, Laural Collins, Rita Jackson, Jessie Latham and Jamie Smith, thank you for being my first readers, some of you had to trudge through the first draft. You’re brave souls.
Rita and Bill Collins, my second Mom and Dad, thank you for all your love and support over the years, and for reading, too.
Kim Stanhope, big thank you for being a first reader and editing a massively bloated story. I think you’ll really love this version.
Sage Lundquist, thank you for your insightful thoughts and suggestions, it means a lot to me that you believed in this story.
A big thank you to my muffin-chucking, critique partner extraordinaire, Anne Spurgeon. The story wouldn’t be what it is today if I hadn’t found you.
Bea Pavia, you and Anne were blessings set in my life. Thank you, Bea, for your editing and encouragement that this is a story worth publishing.
To my writers’ group, Penmark Writers, you’ve all been amazing on this journey.
A special thanks to Sabrina James, who not only loved LHOTS, but also interviewed me on Red Dirt Roots Radio, alongside her mom Jeri James, well before I was published.
A big shout out to Harley in Texas! Thank you for all of your support, brother, can’t wait until the day I meet you and your family.
I owe the world to my mom, Barbara Rothermel. You’ve always been my loudest cheerleader and solid rock. Thank you for your love, and understanding that I borrowed pieces of our lives to craft a story that really isn’t us at all, but rather, my therapy through fiction.
Thank you to my brothers, Pat and Marty Rothermel. I love you both, and remember, this is just a work of fiction, relax.
To all of my writer family online and in our writers’ group – Soulla, Jackie, Alex, Henry, Melisa, Aaron, Anne Marie, and Susie. You’ve all kept me going, and I can’t wait to meet all of you.
Finally, a huge thank you to the Breakthrough Novel Awards and the judges, The Book Khaleesi – Author Services and Eeva Lancaster for making my dream come true. You’ve made this story what I’ve always dreamt it would be. Thank you, Eeva, from the bottom of my heart!
/> About the Author
Amy J. Markstahler lives with her husband and two children near the banks of the Salt Fork River, just outside Urbana, Illinois. In 2016, she was the 3rd Place recipient in the Linda Howard Award of Excellence, and in 2018, she won First Prize in the Breakthrough Novel Awards, both for Life Happens on the Stairs, her first novel.
If she’s not writing or hanging out with her family, you can probably find her on the porch with one of her many cats.
Visit Amy at www.amyjmarkstahler.com
On Twitter: @Ajmarkstahler
On Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ajmarkstahler