by T. K. Leigh
“You’re, like, an actor or something, aren’t you? You’re too pretty not to be.”
He laughed, the sound warm and comforting. “No, I’m not an actor, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Then what do you do?”
“I’m a producer.”
I put my hands up. “Please don’t say you’re an associate producer because I’ve seen State and Main and I know all about how an associate producer credit is something you give to someone instead of a raise.”
He scrunched his eyebrows. “You’ve seen State and Main?”
“Of course! One of my favorite last lines of any movie.”
He laughed even louder. “We are oddly similar.” Our eyes met, an awkward silence stretching between us.
Out of nowhere, my phone began ringing, the sound of Kenny Loggins’ “Mr. Night” blaring.
“Big fan of Caddyshack?” He raised his eyebrows.
I smiled. “A little.” I grabbed my phone out of my bag, scowling when Will’s face appeared on the screen. I knew he was only calling to convince me to bring Sport back to him once again. One thing was certain. He was a persistent bastard.
“Don’t let me keep you.”
“You’re not keeping—”
“I need to get my day started anyway.” He got up from the chair and grabbed his dog’s leash. Holding his free hand out to me, I placed mine in his. I held my breath when his skin met mine. “It was great having you ‘bump’ into me, Dixie. It’s truly a meeting I’ll never forget.” His gentle touch was everything I imagined it would be. Soft. Comforting. Warm. Inviting. Then he winked and walked away.
“Goodbye, Moondoggie,” I mumbled, slumping into my chair, enjoying the view of his breathtaking backside. It was better than any glimmering ocean view I’d ever seen.
I bolted upright. “Shit! I never even found out his name!” Sport cocked his head at me. “I guess you don’t have those kinds of problems, do you, buddy? As long as her butt smells good, you couldn’t care less about whether she has a name or not, do you?”
He leaned his head on my leg, allowing me to pet him. Part of me was upset I didn’t find out more information about my mystery man. For the briefest of moments, I felt a connection to this complete stranger…one stronger than I thought possible after a fleeting encounter. Or maybe I simply imagined it. Even before my marriage ended, I had been alone. It was entirely reasonable that my mind was playing tricks on me, wasn’t it?
Alone at my table, an emptiness seeped in. I glanced around, envious of couples and friends laughing over their morning cups of coffee. I knew absolutely no one in this town, aside from a stranger with gray-blue eyes whom I assaulted and then never found out his name. The doubt I had kept at bay over the past month was returning and I needed to hear some encouraging words about how to start a brand new life.
Picking up my phone, I called my uncle, the only family I really had left, desperate to hear him tell me how proud he was of me, how he knew it was time for me to finally spread my wings and fly. Instead, all I got was his secretary telling me he was in court all day. Sighing, I threw my phone into my bag, stopping when my eyes fell on a leather-bound journal. I was reminded of the day I left North Carolina and the conversation I had with my uncle.
“I knew you’d be the one to leave the nest, Baylee.” His voice wavered, obviously torn about my impending departure. “You have your mother’s adventurous spirit. Do you know that?”
“I don’t feel that way. Hell, I’ve never lived anywhere but here.”
“Either did your mom, but that didn’t stop her from doing what she wanted.”
“I wish I could remember her.”
It was quiet for a moment as we stared at each other. He always thought of my mother whenever he saw me. I inherited her vibrant red hair, fair skin, and short and slender frame. From what I knew, my uncle and mother were nearly inseparable growing up, always getting into trouble together, always holding the other one up when they needed it. The stories he told me about their childhood made me feel as if I actually knew her.
“Listen…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve thought a lot about this, and I think you should have this.” He reached into his messenger bag and produced a small, leather-bound journal, the pages yellowing and torn.
“What is it?” I asked, examining the cover just as my eyes settled on the gold monogram etched in the corner.
“It was your mama’s journal. I gave it to her the day after she got her diagnosis, thinking it might be therapeutic for her to write down her feelings. She hated when people worried about her and had a bad habit of lying to everyone about how she was truly feeling. She always wrote in a journal as a kid, so I thought this would be a good way for her to process everything.”
“I don’t understand. How do you have this? Did Dad know about it?”
He nodded. “I felt bad keeping it, but he insisted I hold onto it. You see, when I finally went home to Charlotte after you were born and your mama died, a package was waiting for me. This journal was in it. Your mama knew her time was up, Baylee. She held on as long as she could to make sure you arrived. You became her sole purpose for living. And this journal…” He caressed the weathered cover as it lay in my lap. “This is what she did the last several months of her life. I just figured since you’re starting out on your first big adventure, you might want some inspiration from the woman whose last big adventure was having you.”
Throughout my drive across the country, I had kept the journal close to me, not wanting to let it out of my sight for a minute. I was curious about what the pages contained, but I was also apprehensive about reading her words. When I turned that final page, I knew the only piece of her I had would be gone. I wasn’t sure I was ready to say goodbye to the woman I never even met. But maybe my uncle was right. Maybe I needed to read my mother’s words. Maybe they would give me the encouragement I needed now that I was on my own for the first time in my life.
Removing the journal from my bag, I stared at the cover, inhaling the aged papers. “I love that smell,” I said softly, opening to the first page.
April 20
What am I? Fifteen? That’s how I feel…like I’m writing in a diary. So here goes…
Dear Diary,
I have cancer.
Fucking cancer.
I’m not quite sure it’s sunk in yet. I don’t know if it ever will. The doctor said I had a thirty percent chance of surviving if I began intensive chemotherapy immediately, but that would kill the little life growing inside of me. I love Perry with all my heart. He says we’ll try again when I beat this thing, but I only have a thirty percent chance of that happening. I am one hundred percent pregnant, due on November 25th. So I choose life, but not mine. Perry will understand.
Now I must begin the daunting task of living my life in the little time I have left. You know how people always say “Someday, I will”? Well, I’ve hit my someday. Someday begins today, and the first thing I’m going to do is see the Pacific Ocean. You may ask why the Pacific Ocean. Well, on my first date with Perry, we went to the old drive-in, which was more like a cow pasture with a shitty screen. The feature movie was Gidget.
I gasped. No wonder Dad loved that movie, I thought, then returned my eyes to my mother’s flowing script.
It’s a silly beach movie, but it brings back memories of the butterflies. And the butterflies never left. To this day, when I gaze at Perry, I still feel like the giddy sixteen-year-old at the annual church cookout who was asked out by a boy from another town. Now, I’m a twenty-nine-year-old wife and soon-to-be mother who has cancer.
When I got my diagnosis last week, you want to know the first thing I did? I made a list of all the things I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had to redo the list in order of importance because I fear I won’t be able to do everything. I have to pick and choose my battles while I fight the battle that has begun raging its own war against me… Time.
I closed the journal and returned it to my bag. Push
ing the chair back, I got up, grabbing Sport’s leash. I headed back toward my condo, staring out over the ocean that the mother I never knew yearned to see as her first step in beginning to live her life.
“Someday begins today,” I murmured with conviction, repeating my mother’s words.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this little taste of The Other Side of Someday. If you want more of Baylee and the mysterious man, grab your copy here.
Acknowledgments
Can I just take a minute to take a big breath? Man, this was a tough one for me. This entire duet was extremely draining. I’ve written close to thirty books by now, but this story hit me hard. There were so many times I felt like pulling back and not going in the direction I knew in my soul this story needed to go, worried it was too much.
But I needed this story to have truth. I needed it to be real. I needed it to accurately display the struggles black people face in this country. And the struggles women who attempt to come forward regarding sexual assault also face.
So on that note, I must first thank all my incredible sensitivity readers for taking the time to read this and offer me feedback — Renita, Curtis, Crystal, and Keeana. You all rock my world. Thank you for supporting this project from the day I first mentioned wanting to write an interracial romance to the moment you read the final word.
A big thank you to my husband, Stan, for supporting this crazy profession of mine from day one.
To little Harper Leigh — I hope you’ll grow up in a world without hate.
To my Dad, a career fire fighter of over forty years — thanks for all your expertise in making sure I accurately portrayed the fire scene. Some of my favorite memories of my childhood still remain visiting you at the station and playing on the fire engines.
To my incredible PA, Melissa Crump. That you for all your support and encouragement. And for taking care of all my social media so I can hide in my writing cave for days on end.
To my BFF, A.D. Justice. Thanks for always being a quick message away whenever I need to talk out plot points. Or just complain about things. You get me.
To my beta team - Melissa, Lin, Stacy, and Vicky. Thanks for all your helpful feedback.
To my admin team — Melissa, Joelle, Lin, Vicky, and Lea. Thanks for all you do for me.
To my fantastic promo team! Thanks for always helping to share my books with the world. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.
To my review team — thanks for taking the time to review each and every one of my books, regardless of the subject matter. I appreciate each and every one of you!
To my reader group. Thanks for giving me a fun space to disappear to when I need a laugh.
And last but not least, thank you to YOU! Thanks so much for taking a chance on my books. Whether you’re new to me or have been with me for years, I appreciate each and every one of you. Stay tuned… I’ve got lots more planned. Pretty sure Julia deserves to find a happily ever after. ;-)
Love & Peace,
~ T.K.
About the Author
T.K. Leigh is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Beautiful Mess series, in addition to several other works, ranging from fun and flirty to sexy and suspenseful. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern California with her husband, beautiful daughter, rescued special needs dog, and three cats. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be found training for her next marathon (of which she has run over twenty fulls and far too many halfs to recall) or chasing her daughter around the house.
T.K. Leigh is represented by Jane Dystel of Dystel, Goderich & Bourret Literary Management. All publishing inquiries, including audio, foreign, and film rights, should be directed to her.
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