The Wright Choice

by Kristy Gibs

  The Wright Choice

  Once Upon a Heartbreak Collection

  Kristy Gibs

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Ella

  2. Ella

  3. Ella

  4. Ash

  5. Ella

  6. Ash

  7. Ella

  8. Ella

  9. Ash

  10. Ella

  11. Ella

  12. Ash

  13. Ella

  14. Ella

  15. Ash

  16. Ella

  17. Ella

  18. Ash

  19. Ella

  20. Ash

  21. Ella

  22. Ash

  23. Ella

  24. Ash

  25. Ella

  26. Ash

  27. Ella

  28. Ash

  29. Ella

  30. Ella

  31. Ella

  Epilogue

  ONCE UPON A HEARTBREAK

  About the Author

  Also by Kristy Gibs

  Copyright © 2021 by Kristy Gibs

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This e-book is licensed for your enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  * * *

  Developmental Editor: Dr. Plot Twist. More information available @ www.drplottwist.com

  * * *

  Cover Design By: Touch Creations Designs

  To my mom, I promise to send you a paperback copy!

  * * *

  To my husband who is my biggest cheerleader. I love you!

  * * *

  To my author tribe, I can’t tell you how grateful I am for you both. I don’t know if I would be able to get a book finished without your support and constant encouragement. The countless hours of bouncing ideas, asking questions, and just talking about life are cherished.

  "In dreams and in love, there are no impossibilities."

  — János Arnay

  Prologue

  ELLA

  “Someday, that will be you, sweetie,” my father whispered as we watched my cousin, Christina, walk down the aisle of the hundred-year-old church. Her father wiped tears from his face as he led her toward the man she was going to marry. Her mother stood, beaming in the pew in front of us, her hands clasped over her heart. Dressed in a puffy white dress, Christina reminded me of the princesses I read about in books. My father stood behind me, both hands grasping my shoulders as we watched her marry her prince. Little did I know this would be the last time we would be in Italy together.

  I woke up gasping for air. I glanced over at the clock, and it was 4 a.m. I dropped back down onto my pillow and rubbed a hand over my flushed face. I knew there would be no getting back to sleep after a dream like that. My father and the time I spent in Italy had been on my mind more than usual lately. I glanced over to the picture sitting on my nightstand, the one he and I took the last summer we were there together. We stood in front of that same church— the church I dreamed about getting married in —and I hold in tears. He would never walk me down that aisle like we planned. I was fortunate to have a stepfather who I adored, who treated me as his own flesh and blood, but it wouldn’t be the same. No one could replace my father.

  Doing the only thing I knew to do when my mind raced, I grabbed the worn-out sketchbook I kept tucked in my nightstand. The sketchbook that held my secrets— the sketchbook that was for my eyes only— and started to draw.

  At first, I wasn’t sure what I was creating, but I let my fingers tell the story, and as each line and shade came into focus, the outline of the church came to life on the cream-colored paper. What felt like only moments, was hours. Before I knew it, the alarm blared on my phone, letting me know it was time to get up for the day. Turning the alarm off, I gazed down at the picture, a lone tear escaping my eye. No matter how many years passed since his death, this time of year was never easy.

  Tucking my treasured book away, I got up to start my day. The semester was almost over, and soon, I would be starting a new adventure.

  1

  Ella

  “Ella, hang back a minute, please.” I nodded toward Professor Sims while I finished putting away my paintbrushes and cleaning up my easel. Looking over my canvas, I studied the abstract painting, pleased with how the vivid colors and bold lines turned out. It was edgy — something I could see my brother Jax hanging in his apartment.

  I glanced back over to where my teacher stood talking to another student and waited. After everyone left, she approached me.

  “Er... Is everything okay?” I tried to think of a reason why she would want to speak to me after class but came up with nothing.

  “Of course, Ella.” She smiled warmly. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your final piece — and give you this.” She handed me a piece of cardstock.

  I stared down at it and couldn’t believe my eyes. “My piece was picked for the annual art showcase?”

  “In the ten years I have worked at this school, I have never seen a junior get picked to be part of the end of the year showcase. You have exceptional talent, Ella.”

  “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say?” I submitted the painting because my professor pushed me, but I didn’t think it would get picked.

  “You don’t have to say anything, just be proud of yourself. Although I am sad you won’t be finishing your senior year with me, the study abroad program is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If you ever need anything, just reach out.”

  In a few weeks, I’ll be leaving to finish my senior year of college in Europe. I couldn’t resist the chance to tour countless museums and study under some of the most amazing artists alive.

  “Thanks, professor.” I had many art teachers throughout college, but Professor Sims was my favorite. Some teachers followed a strict set of required paintings with various techniques, but Mrs. Sims allowed me to explore myself with my artwork, which is why I took every class she taught.

  I shoved the card in my bag and hurried out the door. With my head down, I walked down the busy corridors toward the exit. By the end of my junior year, most people break out of their shells, but I hadn’t. I was shy. Other than a few aspiring artist friends, who were also loners, I didn’t go out of my way to talk to people.

  THUD! My body collided with something, or someone. I went flying, my books and glasses scattered along the pathway, and I was pretty sure I was going to die of embarrassment. Avoiding any eye contact with the person I crashed into, I quickly gathered my things, but when the guy I smashed into bent down to help me, I had no choice but to look up.

  Preston. I had seen him from afar several times over the last year, but he never noticed me. Why would he? He and I ran in totally different social circles. While he spent every weekend at the frat house doing keg stands, I was a nerd who spent her weekends at open mic nights with friends or sketching in my sketchbook. Look up the definition of nerd in the dictionary—it’s a picture of me. Full-on mousy brown hair, always in a ponytail, no makeup, and a paint-splattered sweatshirt and leggings. While some girls could pull it off as comfy cute, I looked borderline homeless, or so my stepsister told me whenever she had the chance to toss a dig my way.

  “Ella?” Preston asked, a confus
ed look on his face. I hadn’t seen him this up close in years. The sweet baby face of a young boy I had stolen glances at in middle school was now replaced with dark stubble and a hard jaw. His teeth, once dressed in metal, were pearly white and straight.

  “Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that.” I stumbled up to a standing position, feeling eyes on me as people passed by.

  “When did you start here?”

  This was embarrassing. “Um, in the fall?” I adjusted my black-rimmed glasses. “I transferred in for my junior year.”

  “No shit?” He laughed.

  “See ya’ around.” After grabbing the book he held, I sped off toward my dorm. I faintly heard him calling after me, but I didn’t stop or turn around. Once I was safely back in my room, I sat on my bed.

  Before coming here, I had wondered if we would ever run into each other. A part of me thought he wouldn’t even remember me, but clearly, he did. Trying to push all thoughts of Preston aside, I made a list of what I needed for my year-long trip.

  The following week as I left Mrs. Sims’s class, I made sure I kept my head up to avoid any other collisions. I made my way down the path toward my dorm when I heard someone.

  “Hey, Ella.”

  Stopping, I spun around to see Preston jogging toward me. “Um, hi.”

  “I was hoping I would run into you again. We should catch up. Do you feel like grabbing a cup of coffee?” His hands were deep in his pockets, and he rocked back and forth on his heels.

  “Now?” Why would he want to go get coffee with me?

  “I mean, it doesn’t have to be now, but if you’re free…” The thumping in my chest felt so loud, I was sure he could hear it.

  “Oh, well… Um. I’m free but...” I glanced down at my oversized sweatshirt that had every color in the rainbow splattered on it; my leggings had seen better days, and my hair was piled on top of my head. The only parts of my outfit that didn’t look like they needed to be tossed were my chucks.

  Get your shit together, Ella. It’s just coffee. “Sure,” I answered before I could talk myself out of it.

  “Great, let’s go.” He nodded his head in the direction we had to go.

  We walked the short distance to the coffee shop on campus. As usual, it was packed. I felt extremely self-conscious as we entered the shop and took an empty table. Subconsciously, I knew no one was paying any attention to us, but inside, I was freaking out.

  I was with the Preston Channing, the golden boy. His dad owned a huge law firm in LA, representing some impressive celebrities. His mother was former Miss. California, and she was always planning some charity event. They were the All-American family and everyone knew of them.

  “What can I get you?” he asked.

  “Oh, just an iced coffee. Cream and sugar please.” I reached for my wallet, but he strolled away before I could give him cash. When he returned, not only did he have coffee, but a huge chocolate brownie. “You used to eat these when we were kids, right?” He placed the dish between us. Preston and I grew up in the same town and went to the same school. I’ve known him since I was twelve, and up until high school, I considered him a friend—well, more than that. I had been secretly in love with Preston since I first met him.

  “Yeah, I’m surprised you remember.” While debating on whether I wanted a piece of the desert, my growling stomach decided for me. I broke off a piece and popped it into my mouth.

  “When did we stop being friends, Ella?”

  I swallowed hard. He became Mr. Popular while I remained the nerdy girl who liked to draw things. “I’m not sure. Just happens as you get older, I guess.”

  He nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, I guess it does…”

  2

  Ella

  After what felt like an extremely mind-numbing day of finals, Preston and I sat in the corner booth of the café, the same booth we sat in every time we came in. I was beginning to think of it as ‘our’ booth. The shop wasn’t as crowded as it usually was, but being the end of the semester, most kids were either cramming hard, others had already fled home for the break.

  I had just gotten back to the booth with our drinks as he hung up his phone. He slouched back in his chair and let out a long sigh. He was usually always smiling, but right now, something was bothering him.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as I slid his coffee in front of him. I watched him blow on the hot liquid before taking a sip.

  “That was my dad… He was calling about work.” He and I had never talked much about his family, but by the somber expression on his face, the perception I had of them being the perfect family might not be true.

  “Did you always want to be a lawyer like your dad?” In a passing conversation, he had mentioned he was set to take over the family business.

  He shrugged. “Not exactly. I actually kind of hate it.” He fidgeted with a napkin on the table, a scowl still on his face.

  “Then why are you going to school for it?”

  He laughed, but it wasn’t a funny laugh; it was an are you seriously asking me that kind of laugh. He dropped the napkin and looked up at me. “Ella, come on. You know my dad.”

  “Preston, I know he is your dad, but this is your life. Your future. Don’t you think he wants you to be happy?” I couldn’t imagine my parents telling me what career I had to choose.

  “It’s complicated.” He shook his head.

  “If you aren’t happy, you need to tell him, Preston. It won’t do anyone any good if you are miserable.” Going into law just to appease his father would end up screwing him in the long run.

  “If I don’t take over, he will give it to someone else, and I won’t let that happen.”

  “What do you mean give it to someone else? If you don’t want it, why does it matter?” It didn’t make sense. He didn’t want to be a lawyer or run Channing Law, but he didn’t want anyone else to either.

  “He already has someone waiting in the wings. If I walk away, everything my father worked so hard for goes to him. I won’t let that happen, so I have to do what is right, even if it isn’t what I want. You will never understand, Ella.”

  “Then make me understand? You can’t have it both ways. Being miserable isn’t the best way to be an adult.”

  He sighed. “I’ll think about it, okay? Don’t you worry about me.”

  “I can’t help it...” The schoolgirl crush I had on Preston, the one I buried deep, was slowly rising back up to the surface. I spent so long thinking we were so different, but maybe we weren’t. I always thought he was the boy who would marry the homecoming queen and live in their mansion, but if what he was saying is true, he wanted his own life, one different from his parents.

  On days I didn’t have class, I spent a lot of time at the Baylands Nature Preserve. It was only a few miles from school and was the perfect spot for sketching. I walked the quarter-mile plank over the marsh until I came to the end where the open water began. I took a seat on one of the metal benches and surveyed the panoramic views, looking for my inspiration. Did I want to sketch the swallows flying inches above the murky blue water? Or the white puffy clouds up in the distance, framing the mountains?

  Settling on a family of ducks, I took my sketchpad and charcoal pencils out of my backpack and set out to work. Consumed by the details, I lost track of time.

  “So, this is where you are always running off too?” I jumped at the voice behind me and turned around to see Preston.

  “What are you doing here?” During one of our coffee chats, I mentioned I came here to draw.

  “I was curious…”

  “Of what?” I thought aloud.

  Smirking, he sauntered over and took the sketchbook from my hands.

  “Hey!” I tried to grab for it, but he was quicker.

  “Wow,” he said as I watched him study the drawing before him. He glanced up from my pad. “You did this today? This is stunning.”

  My heart raced at his compliment. Although my work was good, I was always self-conscious when others l
ooked at it. I knew it was something I would have to get used to if I wanted to someday have a showing in a gallery.

  “Can I keep this?” I looked down at my drawing and back up at him.

  He must have sensed my hesitation. “You don’t have to. I am sorry I asked.”

  “No!” I practically yelled to him. “Of course you can have it. I was just taken back. No one has ever asked me for one of my drawings before.”

  “I find that hard to believe,” he said.

  “Seriously, I gave my family and Lucy some of my stuff, but that’s it.”

  “Well, I am going to make sure I keep this in good condition. It could be worth millions someday.” He winked. “Here, make sure you sign it too.” He handed me one of the pencils that sat on the bench.

  After taking it from him, I scribbled my tag – E. Costa. I carefully tore the page from my sketchpad along the perforated lines and handed it to him.

  “Thank you, Ella.”

  From: P.Channing@Stanford.edu

  To: E.Costa@Stanford.edu

  Sent: Fri 8/24/18 2:07 p.m.

  Subject: World Traveler