Them. I felt a surge of...excitement? Relief? I wasn’t sure what.
Quickly ripping it open, I stared at the contents, a wide smile crossing my face. “Emma, I think we need to grab Aunt Charlie and Uncle Dave,” I said with a laugh, “I think we need to open a bottle of Prosecco.”
She smiled back. “So it’s them.”
“Yep. I am now officially a free woman. Let’s celebrate.” I tucked the divorce papers beneath a stack of other documents next to my laptop and grabbed her arm, hauling her out of the room. “Yes, I think a celebration is definitely in order.”
I opened the bottle while she called her parents. We stood around laughing and toasting my freedom.
Freedom. What a word. What a concept. I hadn’t felt free in the last three years.
If only this had come before I’d met Adam. Before I’d lost Adam.
I brushed aside the thought and the pang of regret that went with it. I had a new life stretching ahead of me. I wasn’t going to waste it living in the past, wallowing in regrets.
“How’s the book going?” my uncle asked.
“Nearly done. And now I have the final chapter.”
He nodded, and my aunt said, “What next? Do you send it to a publisher?”
“Nope. I’m going to publish it myself. From now on, I’m in charge of my own destiny.”
Chapter 20
Six Months Later
A POUNDING ON MY DOOR jarred me from the middle of a scene. My heroine had been about to run her sword through the black heart of the evil vampire overlord. Damn the interruption.
With a sigh, I heaved myself out of my ridiculously expensive desk chair. I figured if I was going to do this writing thing full time, I needed a chair that wasn’t going to hurt my butt or make my lower back ache. Six hundred dollars had been a bitter pill to swallow, but the results were worth it. Besides, I could afford it now.
I smiled at the thought. In the last six months, I’d put out two books, two short stories, and was about to publish my third novel. I still had to pinch myself when I thought about the insanity of the last few months. When I’d published my “life story,” thinly disguised as a contemporary romance, I hadn’t expected much, but sales had taken off so fast, I still hadn’t had time to catch my breath. My readers were begging for more, but I wasn’t sure yet what to give them. That book was my life. It was real. So far, there wasn’t a sequel.
The pounding started up again. “Coming,” I muttered. “Keep your pants on.”
I swung open my apartment door and froze. There on my front porch was my ex, Gavin.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Okay, not an elegant response, but the only one I could come up with on such short notice. Oddly, while I was surprised to find him at my doorstep, I felt nothing else. Not sadness, not stress, not anger. Nothing. He might as well have been a stranger. For once, he didn’t make me want to throw up. Holy shit, I had changed. I felt triumphant.
“Well, that’s a fine way to greet your husband.”
“Ex-husband,” I snapped. “What are you doing here, Gavin? Where’s your girlfriend?”
He gave me a woebegone expression. “She left me.”
“Well, gee. How sad.” My tone may have dripped with more sarcasm than necessary, but really, did he actually expect me to feel sorry for him? What a loser. “I don’t know what you expect me to do about it.”
“Please, let me in.” He stepped closer as if to push his way inside.
“I don’t think so.” I stepped in front of him, blocking the path. There was no way I was letting him into my sanctuary. I’d worked hard to make my apartment mine. Every bit of it was part of me, my personality. He didn’t belong there.
His face hardened. Had I ever thought him handsome? I must have been drunk.
“Come on, Kate. Be reasonable.”
I lifted a brow at that. “Reasonable? Are you serious?”
“We’re married, Kate. You owe me.”
“We were married, Gavin, but you decided to throw me away like yesterday’s garbage. I owe you nothing.” I started to close the door, no longer caring why he was there or what he wanted, but he shoved his foot into the space.
“Listen, you owe me.” His voice was a low snarl, his face twisted and ugly. I suddenly wondered how I’d ever found him attractive. “You wrote a book about me and made I don’t know how many millions off it. I expect my fair share.”
I snorted. “You’re an idiot. I haven’t made anything close to a million. And even if I had, I owe you nothing. I write fiction. If you see yourself in a character, that’s your own guilty conscience. It’s nothing to do with me.”
“You wrote it while we were married,” he said smugly. “It’s half mine.”
“Oh, good. Then half your income for the last three years is mine, plus half your retirement and investments. Not to mention that house you bought in Uxbridge.” He paled. I pressed on. “I wrote that book after we were divorced, moron. Even if I’d written it while we were married, you signed the waiver giving away your rights to anything I created or owned.”
“Because you didn’t own anything.”
“Right.” I crossed my arms. “And you wanted to make sure I didn’t get anything of yours. Sorry if reality bites.”
“I’ll sue.”
I smiled benignly. “Go ahead. I’ve got a really good lawyer.” And with that I kicked him in the shin and slammed the door shut. I smiled when I heard him howling outside. Then I went to call my lawyer. Just in case.
“Don’t worry, Kate.” Bob laughed. “He hasn’t got a leg to stand on. He gives you any trouble, send him my way.”
Bob would eat him up and spit him out. I grinned. “Thanks.”
“You got it, lady. Anytime.”
Chapter 21
Two Hours Later
THE POUNDING ON MY door started up again as I was making lunch. I let out a growl. My lawyer had assured me I’d nothing to worry about.
“Seriously, Gavin? I swear I’m going to kick your ass.” I yanked the door open, but it wasn’t Gavin standing there. “Adam?” It came out barely above a whisper.
“Hello, Kate.” He gave me a lopsided smile. “Please don’t kick my ass.”
I gaped at him, my mouth opening and closing like a freaking fish. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
He thrust a giant bouquet at me. Irises. Purple ones. My favorite. I took them, burying my nose in their fragrance. From someone’s garden, then. Not store bought.
“Kate, we need to talk. Might I please come in?” His voice was soft, pleading. I stood back and let him inside.
My heart was fluttering like a bird in a cage. Half terror, half hope. Oh, God. Had I brushed my hair this morning? Shit, I wasn’t wearing makeup. I stared down at myself. I was still in pajamas.
And then suddenly I was angry. “How dare you both show up here on the same damn day, trying to win me back.”
He took a step back, clearly confused. “I’m sorry. What?”
“No. No. I tried to tell you. I came all the way to your flat to tell you, and you wouldn’t even listen. You threw me out of your life.” I had a good head of steam going now. Anger rushed through me in a wave of righteousness. “Just like that. Like I meant nothing.”
“No. Kate. That’s not....”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I interrupted him. “I’m done with this. Done. I have an appointment, and I need to get ready.” And with that, I slammed the door in his face.
Anger carried me through getting ready, but it left the moment I stepped out on the porch. He was gone. He’d even take the irises.
“Well, that goes to show just how much he wanted you back, doesn’t it?” But I wasn’t mad anymore. I was heartbroken all over again.
Refusing to let the tears fall, I ran down the steps to my car and drove to the bookstore on autopilot. I made it through the reading and the signing with as much grace and good humor as I could muster. I faked smiles for my readers, and laughed and told jokes
. But inside I was aching. Why did Adam have to come back? Why did I have to hurt all over again?
It was dark when I pulled up at my apartment. The porch light was on, and I blinked at the sight. What the...?
I took the stairs slowly, staring at the sight. My porch was covered in purple irises. They were everywhere. In vases, jars, buckets. There was even a wreath of them on the door. In the middle of the wreath was an envelope with my name on it. I plucked it down. I already knew who’d done this.
Opening the letter I read, my heart swelling with each word until giant tears slid from my eyes, dropping to the paper. I brushed them away, worried the ink would run.
Dearest Kate,
I wanted to tell you how sorry I am in person, but since you won’t speak to me (not that I blame you), I’ll have to do it this way. Kate, I’m sorry for not listening. I’m sorry for throwing you out. I am the last person who should have done that to you. I should have listened. I should have understood. And I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. I’m a bloody idiot. I only hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
I love you so much, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I also love you enough to let you go.
If you want me, please, please call me.
Love,
Adam
I stared at the card, great gulping sobs rattling my chest. Oh, God, he still loved me. He wanted me. I wanted to call him, run to him, but I couldn’t. I was frozen in place with fear.
I fumbled the phone out of my pocket and dialed Chloe. She answered on the fourth ring.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Her voice was groggy.
“I’m sorry, but I need you.”
“Tell me.” She was suddenly wide awake.
I told her about Adam showing up on my doorstep. About him bringing flowers. About me shutting the door in his face. Then about the masses of irises and the note. I read the note, my voice wobbling with each word.
“Kate, you are a bloody idiot.”
“I know,” I wailed. “What do I do?”
“You go find him, of course. Throw yourself at him and tell him you forgive him.”
“I’m not sure I can. What if he hurts me again?”
“And what if aliens invade the planet?” Chloe snapped. “He’s a man, Kate. Sometimes they do dumb shit. But the good ones? The good ones say they’re sorry. They make it better. And Adam is a good one, Kate.”
“But why did he wait so long?” I wailed.
She sighed. “Because he was stuck on a set in outer Mongolia. Or maybe it was Tibet? I forget.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I gave him your book. Right before he left. And I told him you wrote it about yourself and about him.”
“He changed his mind because of the book?”
“No, you moron. He’d already changed his mind. He was just convinced it was too late. The book gave him hope.”
“How do you know this?” I asked suspiciously.
“I might have played fairy godmother. Now go find him, or I shall never speak to you again.” And she hung up.
I stared at the card. Adam had left instructions for calling him at his hotel. It wasn’t good enough. I was going there.
I hopped back in the car and sped toward his hotel. I don’t even remember the drive, just the ever-warring fear and hope. Next thing I knew, I was knocking on his door.
“Kate.” There was something so soft, so hopeful in his eyes.
“Can I come in?”
He swung open the door, and I stepped into an uber posh hotel room. I suddenly realized I must look a fright. I’d cried off all my makeup, and I probably looked like a startled raccoon.
“Kate. You look fine. More than fine. You are lovely.”
I flushed. How had he known what I was thinking? “Thank you.” I cleared my throat. I was in sheer panic and courage was beating at my innards, trying to get out. Oh, god. “I’m sorry,” I blurted.
“I’m sorry,” he said at the same time.
We stared at each other and then laughed, tension broken. Sort of.
“I should have told you from the start.”
“I was an utter asshole,” Adam said, taking my hands and pulling me closer. “I should have realized how hard it was for you. I should have known...” He shook his head. “I should have listened to what you had to say. Instead I acted like a jackass. Storming off, a self-righteous prig.”
I smiled. “Maybe a little. I know I should have told about Gavin at the beginning.”
He squeezed my hands. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I understand why you didn’t. Once I got over myself.” He smiled wryly. “Forgiven?”
“You really hurt me Adam. You can’t even begin to imagine how I felt after... everything.”
“I know, love. I know. And I would do anything to go back in time and change things, but I can’t. I can only start here and now making it up to you. Please. Please forgive me.”
“Of course.” I sighed. “Do you forgive me?”
“I already have.” He leaned down and kissed me. It was sweet and soft. “Can we start again?”
“No.” I shook my head and watched his face fall. “I don’t want to go back. The past is behind us. I want to move forward. We can’t start over, but we can go on. Cards on the table.”
He laughed in relief. “Agreed. Cards on the table.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Chloe.”
“Of course. That meddler.”
He pulled me to the couch. “Don’t judge her too harshly, darling. She is your avenging angel.”
“How so?” I asked, curling on the couch next to him, snuggling into his warmth.
“She stormed into the theatre one day, armed with a paperback. She slammed it against my chest and ordered me to read it or else. Then stormed off.”
“And you did what she said?” I asked.
“She was scary.”
We laughed. “Then what?”
“I had to be on set the next day, so I took the book with me. Read it. Your book.” He gave me a look that melted me into a puddle. “I hadn’t...I didn’t realize how you felt. I thought it was just me.”
“I should have told you.”
“I might not have been ready to listen. Not then. In any case, at the back she’d written her number. So I rang her, and we chatted. She told me everything, including where to find you. I wanted to call you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It seemed like something I should do in person.”
I nodded. That I understood.
“The minute we were done filming, I got on the next plane out. Well, almost the next. I did have to make a quick stop.”
“For what?”
He slid off the couch, down on one knee, and held out his hand. In his palm something glittered and winked. There was only one thing I could say.
“Yes.”
Chapter 22
Mr. Perfect For Me
CHLOE PICKED UP A COPY of the morning’s gossip rag from the table, smiling at the blurry photo of her best friend and her new husband. “Good on ya, Kate,” she whispered as she lifted a cup of steaming coffee. “If anyone deserves a happy ending, it’s you.”
Actor Adam Wentworth Weds American Author
Last night in a secret ceremony attended only by close friends and family, actor Adam Wentworth wed American romance novelist, Kate Miller. The bride wore purple. Although the happy couple were unavailable for comment, those closest to the bride and groom claim the newlywed pair are honeymooning in Rome. The bride’s ex-husband was available for comment, but his comment is unprintable.
Don’t forget to check out Book 2 – Kiss Me, Chloe!
Author’s Note:
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About Shéa MacLeod
SHÉA MACLEOD IS THE author of the best-selling paranormal romance series, Sunwalker Saga, as well as the popular 1930s cozy mystery series, Lady Rample Mysteries. She also dabbles in contemporary romances with a splash of humor. She resides in the leafy green hills outside Portland, Oregon where she indulges in her fondness for strong coffee, Ancient Aliens reruns, lemon curd, and dragons.
Because everything's better with dragons.
Other Books by Shea Shéa MacLeod
Notting Hill Diaries
Kissing Frogs
Kiss Me, Kate
Kiss Me, Stupid
Kissing Mr. Darcy
Viola Roberts Cozy Mysteries
The Corpse in the Cabana
The Stiff in the Study
The Poison in the Pudding
The Body in the Bathtub
The Remains in the Rectory
The Death in the Drink
Lady Rample Mysteries
Lady Rample Sits In
Lady Rample Spies a Clue
Lady Rample and the Silver Screen
Lady Rample Steps Out
Lady Rample and the Ghost of Christmas Past (2018)
Sunwalker Saga
Kissed by Darkness
Kissed by Fire
Kissed by Smoke
Kissed by Moonlight
Kissed by Ice
Kissed by Eternity
Kissed by Blood
Kissed by Destiny
Sunwalker Saga: Soulshifter Trilogy
Fearless
Haunted
The Art of Kissing Frogs Page 19