The Flawed Heart Series

by Wade, Ellie

  “You’re right. I’ll do that,” Daddy answers while he places the pillows back on the couch.

  Granddad sits down and continues watching TV. He loves American TV. He says it’s so much more exciting than the dull rubbish they have over there in England.

  “We have time for a couple of cribbage games before bed. Do you want to give it another go?” Nan asks me.

  They got me a wooden cribbage game for Christmas, too. Nan said it was one of her favorite games as a kid. She said it’s usually for kids a little older than I am, but she got it for me because I’m so smart with numbers. We’ve played a few times, and I pretty much understand it all now.

  But the thought of going to bed makes me sad because I know, when I wake up in the morning, Nan and Granddad will be gone. Nan said they have a really early flight.

  “I don’t want to go to bed, Nan.”

  She gently pats my hand as we sit at the table again. “I know you don’t, love. I’m really going to miss you, too.”

  “Do you have to go back? Can’t you stay here until we can move there with you?” I love when Nan and Granddad visit. I will be sad when they leave.

  “We can’t, but we’ll see you again soon, dear.”

  “It’s not fair. I want to go with you now. Why can’t we just move now?”

  “Well, love, your mum and dad have stuff they have to work out here. Your dad has a good job. Your mum has her doctors here. But I know, someday, you will all come. We just have to be patient.”

  Daddy works a lot because Mommy’s baby doctors cost tons of money. I think, after the baby comes, we will move. I just can’t wait.

  “Tell me about the flat and the cottage, Nan.”

  Nan chuckles. “Oh, my boy, what can I tell you that you don’t already know? Between your dad and Granddad’s stories, you probably know more about our properties than I do.”

  “You can tell me again. You tell the stories differently.”

  “You mean, I don’t tell you a load of codswallop?” She laughs.

  “What?” I ask, confused.

  “My stories are different from the ones you hear from your daddy and Granddad because, I’m afraid, theirs might be a tad exaggerated.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just that they love to tell stories to make everything sound more interesting than it is.”

  “Daddy doesn’t lie.”

  “No, I’m not saying that he does. He just has a way of making things seem magical than they really are.”

  “But London is magical.” I’m so confused.

  “Perhaps, but magic isn’t found only in England, my dear. It can be found anywhere.”

  “Not here.”

  “Oh, but it can. For instance, take that over there. What do you see?”

  She points to a large box that’s about half the size of our refrigerator. Mommy got it in the mail a couple of days before Christmas.

  “It’s a box.”

  “Is it though?”

  I stare at the box before looking at the Nan again. “Yes,” I answer slowly.

  “You see, I don’t see a box. I see a submarine, and this submarine’s on a mission. If I lived here, I would decorate that submarine. You could get your daddy’s help to cut out a spy hole.”

  “A spy hole?”

  “Yes. You’ll need one if you’re going to track the group of humpback whales during their migration. You see, the group has some young humpbacks among them, and they could be in danger.”

  “Why?” I ask, my eyes wide.

  “Well, you know, orcas, or you might know them as killer whales—the white-and-black whales sometimes held in amusement parks?”

  I nod.

  “On occasion, orcas have been known to attack baby humpbacks in the wild. So, if you see one coming when you’re in your submarine, you can scare them off. Also, every now and then, the humpbacks will get stuck in fishing nets or in garbage in the ocean, and you will need to free them. Of course, you will see other amazing creatures on your journey—stingrays, eels, or maybe a giant octopus. I don’t know about you, but I think being the protector to a group of whales is pretty magical, and you would be wonderful at it because you’re so brave.”

  “I would be,” I agree, nodding again.

  “You see, my dear, magic can be found anywhere because it’s found in here”—she points to her head—“and in here.” She points to her heart. “I know that you want to come to England and, believe me, Granddad and I want you there, too. But you shouldn’t wait until you’re there to have amazing adventures. No matter where you end up in this life, it is your responsibility to create magic wherever you go. Do you understand?”

  “I do. Magic already lives in my mind and heart. I just have to make it.”

  “Exactly!”

  Nan grins widely, and it makes me happy.

  “Nan, can we work on my submarine?”

  “Of course! I’ve made some amazing submarines in my day.”

  “Maybe Mommy will take me to the library tomorrow, so I can get lots of whale books. I’ll need to know all about them when I go on my journey.”

  “Oh, I bet she would. That sounds like a great plan. Then, the next time we speak on the phone, I want to hear all about your adventures.”

  “I’ll tell you about them,” I say excitedly.

  We stand from the table.

  Nan opens her arms wide. “Come give your ole Nan a big hug.”

  I wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze tight.

  After we finish hugging, Nan bends down on her knees, so her face is right across from mine. “I’m going to tell you something that I told your father when he was your age, and I want you to always remember it, Loïc, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Life is one big adventure. You only get one life, so you have to make it count. You can’t sit around on your bum, waiting for joy to find you. We’re all born with the capacity to live incredible lives…but the trick is that you have to work for it. A magical life is within everyone’s grasp, but you have to make it happen for yourself. Everything that is worth having requires effort. Happiness will always be there for you, but it’s not free. Do you understand?”

  “Um, I think so.”

  Nan chuckles. “Well, I’ll keep reminding you until you do. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Now, let’s go make you a super special submarine. Shall we?”

  “Yes! After I’m done watching over the whales, maybe I can go on some other missions?”

  “I think that sounds like a great idea,” Nan agrees with a smile.

  London

  “Somehow, our imperfections work seamlessly together to make our flaws into something more.”

  —London Wright

  I hold my phone up to my mouth. “What is the average temperature in Palo Alto in November?”

  A handsome male Australian voice answers, “I’m sorry. I’m not quite sure I understand.”

  “What’s the weather like in Palo Alto in November?” I say again more clearly.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” my male Siri answers.

  “Give me the weather in California, asshole.”

  “I’m only trying to help,” he answers.

  “Fuck you,” I huff out.

  “Do you speak to your mother with that mouth?” he asks politely.

  “Do you fuck your mother with your idiot brain?” I snap into my phone.

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” he answers.

  “I hate you.”

  “Well, I’m still here for you,” he responds.

  “I’m done talking to you,” I growl.

  “I don’t understand, ‘I’m done talking to you.’ But I could search the web for it.”

  “Ugh,” I groan as I throw my phone in my purse. “Don’t bother!”

  I find myself glaring at the red light before me for no other reason than I’m pissed at Oliver, which is what I named my Siri because Siri isn’
t a suitable name for a hot man from down under—even if he is an idiot.

  “It looks like high sixties,” Loïc says with a deep chuckle.

  I turn to find his amused face. If he wasn’t so gorgeous, I’d probably be annoyed with the current smirk, but it makes him even more adorable, so I’ll take it.

  He’s holding up his phone to show me the little chart with all the sun pictures and temperatures, which all appear to be between sixty-seven and sixty-nine degrees. Yes! Beats the high thirties we’ve been having in Michigan. It’s unseasonably cold for November this year.

  “Well, isn’t your Droid so smart?” I say in a snooty voice for dramatic flair.

  Loïc and I go back and forth over which is better—a Droid or iPhone. I’d argue to death that an iPhone is better, but let’s face it; Oliver isn’t too bright.

  “I’ve told you this a million times. There’s no comparison.” He shrugs, a smug expression now residing on his face. “Tell me again why your Siri is an Australian man?”

  “Because the real Siri was a bitch, and I was sick of hearing her. So, I programmed the phone to use Oliver’s voice instead. He might not be much smarter, but he’s definitely more enjoyable to listen to. I love his accent.”

  “Ah, that’s right. Where am I going again?”

  “Twenty-three to fourteen to two hundred seventy-five to ninety-six,” I rattle off the highway names once more.

  “Are you sure you can’t find what you need at the mall that’s, like, five minutes away? Is the hour drive worth it?”

  “Um, yes, it is totally worth it. It’s the only decent place to shop around here.”

  Loïc agreed to come shopping with me today. Paige is usually my partner in crime, but she’s working overtime on some promotion she’s doing for her new job. She’s really been working her tail off to impress her new employer.

  Loïc and I are leaving for California on Thursday to go visit my sister at Stanford for a long weekend. New outfits are a must.

  “Your enthusiasm for shopping is kind of a flaw,” Loïc says, humor lining his voice.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I think your lack of enthusiasm for all things shopping is a huge flaw,” I quip in return.

  Loïc’s deep laughter fills the cab of his truck, and I can’t stop the huge grin that crosses my face.

  I take in the familiar sights—buildings, exits, signs—as Loïc speeds down the interstate. A new sensation comes over me, one that I don’t know I’ve ever experienced in my entire life—the feeling of being at home. I’ve lived in so many places in my life, and with each one came the understanding that it was only temporary. My mom always told me that home was where the people you loved were, not a name on a map. I’ve never considered a particular place home—until now. Michigan is my home.

  I have a job that I love, writing freelance pieces for a local online news outlet. I love my roommate and best friend, Paige. The house where we’ve lived together since we moved out of the dorms two years ago feels like a home should—familiar, happy, and safe. And then there’s Loïc. I can’t believe it’s only been six months since I first saw his muddy-as-hell truck drive up to the sorority car wash last May.

  In the timeline of life, six months is a blink of an eye, but for Loïc and me, it seems like so much longer. We’ve both gotten over some major hurdles since then. We’ve changed so much. I know I have other ways in which I need to grow as a person, to change into a better version of myself. I’m not perfect, and Loïc’s not either. Yet, somehow, our imperfections work seamlessly together to make our flaws into something more. More compassion. More love. More understanding. Simply more.

  I am closer to becoming the person I want to be now than I was on that hot day back in May, and Loïc is, too. That’s why I know that we’re destined, fated, meant to be—however it’s phrased is irrelevant. The fact of the matter is that Loïc and I will always be. We met for a reason, and I know that we’ll be together always. I can’t adequately explain how I know this, but I do. I’m sure of it.

  We arrive at the mall, and Loïc parks the truck. Exiting the truck, my skin shivers as I pull my jacket tightly around me. The wind today carries a bite.

  Loïc wraps his strong arm around my shoulder, and we walk toward the large building.

  “Maybe, if you get all your shopping finished in a timely manner, we’ll have time to go for a hike before dinner,” Loïc suggests before leaning down and kissing my temple.

  I scrunch my lips together and peer up at him. “Um…it’s freezing. Why would I want to go hiking?”

  “It’s almost fifty degrees, babe. That’s practically shorts weather in Michigan. We need to get out and enjoy the warm temp.”

  “Warm temp?” I shake my head, expelling a breath.

  “Yeah, next month could have negative temperatures, so when compared to, let’s say, minus ten degrees, fifty is pretty warm.”

  “Ugh, I hate Michigan.” The cold winters are definitely a downfall to my recently professed home. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway because shopping and timely don’t go together.”

  Loïc bows his head. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  I laugh. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll model all of my outfits for you, and if you’re really good, maybe you’ll get lucky in a dressing room.”

  “People really do that?”

  “I assume so. I mean, I never have. Have you?” I ask.

  “No.” Loïc shakes his head.

  “Well then, maybe it can be another first?” I suggestively lift my eyebrows.

  Loïc chuckles. “You know that sounds amazing and all…but can’t they see into the dressing rooms? Through vents or two-way mirrors or something? Isn’t that how they catch shoplifters?”

  “I don’t know. I think maybe in some stores but not all of them. We’ll scope it out.”

  “I’m all about creating firsts with you, London. Not to mention, I want you all the time. But I can’t go getting myself arrested for public lewdness right before I’m deployed. That wouldn’t go over well.”

  I let out a sound of disappointment. “Stupid deployment. It’s getting in the way of all my fun,” I joke.

  “Don’t worry, babe. We’ll have plenty of fun later. Promise.” Loïc pulls me in for a quick kiss before he slides his fingers through mine as we enter the mall.

  I exit the changing room to find Loïc on his phone, seated on the padded bench right outside the dressing room door. He looks up when he hears me.

  “What do you think about this one?” I do a little twirl, causing the short red dress to fan out above my knees.

  “I think you look stunning.” His response is sincere as a warm smile illuminates his strong, handsome face.

  His smile is my kryptonite, and each time he gifts me with one of his signature grins, I just want to ravage him. I think I might be slightly addicted. But, I suppose, if I must be a junkie, I’m happy it’s Loïc I crave.

  I take a few steps toward him. Placing my palms against his freshly shaven face, I bend, connecting my mouth with his. The kiss is short, sweet, and so much less than I’d like to do, but I just had to feel his lips against mine even if just for a second.

  I reluctantly pull my lips away from his. “You said the same thing for the last four outfits I tried on,” I point out.

  “Because that statement was also true for each of those outfits.”

  “Surely, I can’t look stunning in everything I try on. You have to give me some real feedback. I need to buy the perfect outfits for this weekend.”

  “London, baby, you look truly amazing in everything you try on. You could put on every item of clothing this store carries, and I would think the same. You could come out of the room with a burlap bag wrapped around your body, and I would still think that you looked absolutely gorgeous.”

  I run my thumb across his jaw, denying my urge to kiss him again. “But aren’t some better than others? Can’t you give me any objective feedback?”

  “Babe, if you wanted someone
to give you critical opinions about the actual clothes, then you should have brought Paige. I’m sorry, but when I see you, I just see beauty, nothing else. To me, you are perfect in anything or nothing at all.”

  “Ugh,” I groan out. “You’re just so sweet.” I turn briskly to head back to try on another outfit.

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Loïc chuckles in question.

  “It is when I want honest feedback on clothes. Fashion is a big deal, Loïc.” I look over my shoulder to shoot him a mock glare of annoyance.

  He just laughs, shaking his head. “Told you that you picked the wrong shopping buddy.”

  “Clearly,” I say with a grin before closing the changing room door.

  When we pull up to Loïc’s house, Paige’s car is already in the driveway. For about six weeks now—basically, since Sarah left—we’ve all been getting together at least once a week to do dinner.

  Tonight, Cooper’s cooking. We rotate that responsibility, but more times than not, it ends up being Cooper’s turn. That might have something to do with the fact that he’s the best cook out of us all. A few weeks ago, when it was my turn, I managed to burn the crap out of a ready-bake lasagna. I ended up ordering Thai takeout. I really need to work on my culinary skills.

  A wall of deliciousness hits us as soon as Loïc and I open the door. I inhale deeply, realizing how hungry I am. In the busyness of our mega shopping day, we forgot to eat lunch. But it was worth it because I got some adorable outfits for California.

  “It smells amazing. What did you make?” I ask Cooper as I enter the kitchen.

  “I seared some salmon and topped it with a cream sauce. Then, we have herb-roasted veggies and scalloped potatoes for sides.”

  “Sounds incredible. I’m starving.”

  “Oh, I made you a cheesecake from scratch for dessert,” Cooper adds.

  I throw my arms around him. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

  Cooper laughs.

  Loïc chimes in, “Don’t believe her, brother. She’s only using you for your food.”

  “Hey, I resent that.” I release my hold on Cooper. “I would still love him even if he wasn’t such a fantastic cook. Just not as much.” I shrug.