“Your ice cream?” I ask.
She tosses her hands up and shakes her head. “These men are ridiculous. They make me sound like a neurotic woman. I don’t want it. We just needed more time. Piper wasn’t here, and the caterer was running late. Mom and I just broke our record to the fastest wedding reception in the history of the world. I hope you don’t mind pigs in a blanket, though.”
Zeke hands me his phone. Dexter is on FaceTime. “Congratulations, sis.”
“Hey, I wish you were here.”
“Soon,” he promises. “We booked the flight and we should be there soon to meet my niece and celebrate your new family. I’m happy for you.”
It was Christmas when he finally understood that Mae belonged to Tucker and me. He’s not a bad guy, he just lived with my parents and learned their ways. There’s still hope for us though. I would be sad if I lost my brother too.
Honestly, I couldn’t be happier. I have everything, if only Sienna was around. However, in a way she’s the one who lead me to this treasure. The first time I saw this family, I wanted to be a part of them after only five minutes, and now, I’m pinching myself because I can’t believe I belong to them and they belong to me.
Tucker
September rolls in, and we celebrate Mae’s birthday with a big party that I’m sure everyone enjoyed more than she did. Her favorite present was the box where the drum kit that Zeke gave her was packed.
She loves to hide in it, and when Draco comes to visit, the feline and her are inside the box while she plays with her blocks or her stuffies.
Three weeks after her birthday, Zeke, Nana, Ethan, and I go to visit Rocco. There are fresh flowers between his tombstone and Sienna’s. I turn to look at Hannah who shrugs. “He loved when I had flowers around.”
We’re still having a rough time living without him. It was so much easier knowing that he was fine, even when he wasn’t around, but now … we won’t get to see him again.
“Hey, Rocco,” Nana greets him and bursts into tears. “Stupid hormones. I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing, but know that we’re all taking care of Mae. She’s such a sweet and gentle soul. Just like you were. She loves to hug, just like you did. Tuck and Sage are the best parents she could’ve had in the entire world, and I want you to know that we love her so much.”
Ethan and Zeke don’t say anything. I pat the grass, open my phone, and pull out Mae’s one-year-old picture, reading it out loud.
“My first year, Mae Brooke. Twenty-three pounds and thirty inches tall. I have blue eyes, auburn hair, six tiny teeth, and a cute dimple. Nicknames, Snuggle Bug. I love Mom and Dad, but Z, Nana, Alex, and Eth are my favorites. I eat bananas, string cheese, and drink juices that Dad makes for me. I hate veggies—like Dad. My favorite story is Stella Luna. I love chasing Bruno, playing with Draco, and sleeping with my stuffy butterfly.
“Listen, man. I still don’t get it. She’s so special, and you left her. But thank you for leaving her to me. She’s my life. Mae and Sage are everything to me. I miss you, and I always will, but I will always have the best of you. She’ll grow up to know she has two dads, so please look after her from heaven. I know you’re there with Sienna. We love you, man.”
I stand up, and Ethan, Nana, Z, and I hold hands. Like my wife has taught me, I send a prayer to God and to anyone else who will listen, not only for Rocco’s soul to be at peace, but also for these two guys to find happiness because I don’t want to lose anyone ever again.
Dear Reader,
I can’t thank you enough for picking up Us After You and spending some time with these characters. I truly hope you enjoyed this book, just as much as I did while writing it.
Finally writing Tucker’s book felt like coming home. It’s been a whole year since I wrote an angsty book and it felt just right.
As you know, most of my stories are layered up with life experiences. I can’t say much about my college friend, her niece or the sad ending (because she reads my books). All I can tell you is a little happily ever after I wished they have had with a mix of good old Decker love and fiction from my side.
Do you want to read the letter Alex gave to Nana?
➪ Read the vows here
When you finish reading, and if you loved it as much as I do, please leave a review and spread the word about it among your friends.
Sending all my love,
Claudia xoxo
Excerpts
I hope you enjoyed reading Us After You, keep reading for an extended excerpt of Almost Perfect (Alex and Nana’s story). Also, Uncut, Tristan, Matt, and Thea’s story. The Decker’s family is unique, and loving. I included an excerpt of Unlike Any Other and Uncharted.
Talk to you soon xoxo
Almost Perfect
Let’s talk about firsts for just a minute.
There’s a first time for everything. Not all first-time experiences are as life-changing as people assume. You’ve heard it all, right? You can’t forget your first kiss. Your first love is unique. Losing your virginity is special and sometimes magical.
For the most part, first kisses are sloppy. There’s nothing swoony about them. Your first time with a new partner or hookup is awkward. Losing your virginity...that’s debatable. If you’re with an experienced partner, it can be great. If not…well.
The first time I went out with a guy, I was a mess. I remember pacing around the foyer, waiting for him to pick me up. At seventeen, it was a big deal. I had been living in a cocoon for years. Lots of theory and zero practice. The tightness in my chest and the butterflies fluttering in my body were suffocating me.
Needless to say, one of my best friends gave me my first kiss, so I’d stop freaking out. It was like kissing my brother.
Listen, first experiences might be great for many, but they can also suck.
It’s not like I hate firsts; they’re just not my favorite. But I’m going to let you in on a secret. Those are nothing compared to the first day of school.
It’s the worst, am I right?
Before anyone focuses on those pre-school, elementary school years, let me stop you and send you forward, all the way to high school and college. Being fourteen and sent to a big place where the basic rule is ‘eat or be eaten’ sucks.
College is just as bad, if not worse. You’re far away from home and your parents dropped you off in some dorm room that’s smaller than a closet with a strange kid who is now your roommate for the next nine months. And who knows ahead of time how hard or strange that’ll be?
Poor kids, they have it rough.
I feel for them, but I feel sorrier for the teachers.
Trying to control a bunch of spooked, freshmen is...heinous.
But it’s not as bad as, seniors. They think they know everything. They should’ve graduated a year before because they’re that good and they’re ready to show the adult world how things are done. From their perspective, teachers are a waste of space to them. It takes time to round the students back into reality.
Imagine living your first-time experience over and over again. Well, at least twice a year. As a college professor, I have to deal with it every single semester. Forgive my lazy Forrest Gump analogy, but first days of school are like a box of chocolates stored in your grandma’s closet since last century: you never know what you’re going to get, but you’re going to regret eating it.
Needless to say, the first day back to school is declared a national day of observance. All my friends and family call to check on me because they know how much I loathe it.
Maybe I should find a new job, not that I don’t like this one, but...there are other things I could do with my time.
Open a flower shop, buy a farm and start a co-op, or just work full-time for my magazine.
But then again…teaching is invigorating and fulfilling. I like shaping young minds, molding them well enough that, by the end of the year, my students are thinking for themselves and questioning what their parents taught them. I want them to enjoy Pride & Prejudice, w
hile understanding the satire. I want them to understand Asimov’s vision and not be afraid of technological advancement. I’m a dreamer, and I like to share my dreams with my students.
This first day wasn’t any better than the others. There’s nothing more humiliating than having your new TA say, “Can I help you with anything, sweetie? Freshman orientation is that way. If you’re looking for Ms. Hades-Bell, she should be here soon.”
I glared at him and said, “I’m Hannah Hades-Bell. And if you ever talk to any of my students in that condescending tone, I’ll be filing a complaint to your academic advisor.”
That wasn’t all. I had two other professors confuse me for a student. A freshman, nonetheless. The new secretary in the English department asked me if I was visiting from high school.
Genetics, man. They really fuck you up in so many ways. I got my father’s musical talent but not his height. All my siblings are taller than me. Sadie, my stepmom, calls me her magical fairy as a way to make me feel better. It worked when I was nine or ten, but almost twenty years later? Not so much.
It usually takes me a couple of weeks to show my students that I might be small, but if they want to stay in my class, they better respect me and my rules—in that order.
Now that the day is over, it’s time to turn it around and make everything better. On my way to my apartment, I stop by the bakery.
The best way to deal with a bad day is with the three c’s: cookies, candy, and cabernet. Cake is sometimes a great addition to the repertoire, but today doesn’t call for it. Once I buy a big batch of cookies—enough to last me for a week—I go to the candy store. I get jellybeans, alcohol infused chocolate, and margarita flavored gummy bears.
When I get in the car, my phone rings.
“Hey, Dad,” I answer.
“How’s the first day, kid?”
I grunt and start the car.
“Crappy as usual. You know, they confused me for a freshman—AGAIN,” I growl, frustrated at the bitterness of this day. The start of each semester is like living on that Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day.
After I tell him today’s tale, he laughs. I love this man, but seriously…couldn’t he fake it a little and feel sorry for me a hot second?
“Am I entertaining you?”
He clears his throat. “You can’t take this away from me. You get to mock me for the rest of the year. Today is a special day for me.”
“Hmm, how’s it going, Dad?”
“Same old, same old. Except—”
“Ugh,” I interrupt him. This isn’t a good day to add some bad news. “Keep your bad news for the weekend.”
“It’s good, I think…” He pauses. “I was at the studio recording new music with Chris. You came up in the conversation.”
If he had stopped right at, “I’m recording new music with my mentor, Chris Decker,” I would be thrilled. The second sentence is what’s bothering me. When the Deckers talk about me, there’s nothing good to follow.
“Let’s be clear.” I try to sound firm. “I’m not doing a concert or playing with the band for some fundraiser. My life as a performer and a musician ended forever ago.”
Sinners of Seattle broke up years ago. Though, I’m still close to my guys. We’re a family. Music will always live in me but going back isn’t an option.
“That’s not it,” Dad says. “I know you’re done with that part of your life.”
Not done, more like I pushed it down to the bowels of hell and that’s where it’ll stay forever. Do I miss playing music? Sometimes...so much so that, at times, I wonder if I should buy a piano...
“Hey, kid, don’t go silent on me. Chris mentioned he could get you a teaching position up here in Seattle. If you ever want to come back home.”
“I love my job, Dad,” I reply, before we start a conversation that goes deeper than I could handle. I stop him because I know what’s next. “Dad, I have one more errand to run. Can I call you later?”
He sighs and says, “Sadie and the kids say hello.”
“Tell Mom I’ll call her later.”
By later, I mean in a week or so. Sadie, my stepmom, is cool. The best. I love her so much. But she’s running a big campaign to get me back to Seattle. She told me as much during Christmas.
“I understand, but don’t you think enough time has passed, Hannah?”
Time is relative. For some, a minute can feel like a second, and for others, an eternity. A lifetime will never be enough.
“We love you, Hannah.”
“Me too, Dad.”
I hang up the phone, pressing the remote to open the door to the underground garage of the apartment complex where I live. I didn’t lie when I said I had to run one more errand. I just didn’t tell him the whole truth. The liquor store is just a block away from my place. There’s no point in driving there. At least, I’m walking off all the cookies I plan on eating.
The incoming text is no surprise.
Mom: Don’t just eat candy and cookies. I’ll order Chinese food.
I roll my eyes; Sadie knows everything I swear. Maybe I’m too predictable. Either way, I respond right away before she ends up calling me.
Hannah: Love you!
Mom: Call me soon.
I smile and take my stuff to my apartment before I run my last errand. When I arrive at the liquor store, Rafa, the owner, greets me.
“It’s your lucky day. We got a new shipment of Ruffino rose wine. Where is your partner-in-crime?” he asks, and my head drops.
When he mentions my best friend’s favorite wine, it feels like a knife stabbing my lonely heart. Asking where my partner-in-crime is…that’s just twisting it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for June. She’s living her fairytale in Colorado. She has a hot fiancé, and they’re expecting three babies.
“Today, it’s just me,” I tell him and walk to the cabernet aisle.
“Where is your friend? I haven’t seen her since before the holidays.”
“She moved to Colorado…” Last week, she visited me and confirmed my suspicions: she’s gone for good.
It was the saddest day of my life. She’s my person. We met when I moved next door to her. We used to binge watch our favorite movies. Every weekend, when she was around–and single—we strolled around town. We call each other when we’re in trouble. But now she’s gone.
What am I supposed to do now?
“Don’t worry, you have enough customers to keep you in business.”
Rafa laughs and shakes his head.
I rummage through the shelves, searching for just the right cabernet that will make this day manageable. When the bell above the door sounds again, my stomach flips. I can sense him. Looking around, I’m not sure if I can hide before he sees me. Then again, there’s no way to hide. He’ll find me because there’s only one reason why he’s here. Me.
“Did you bring your fake ID?” he asks.
“Go away, Alex,” I say, without giving him a glance. “Why didn’t you send it with a courier and saved us both the trouble of having to deal with each other?”
I feel the warmth of his body when he’s close enough and know that if I turn around, our feet will touch. Of all my Groundhog Day traditions, he’s the one I want to avoid this year.
“She warned me not to do that…More like threatened me,” Alex replies, with humor in his voice.
He takes away the bottle I hold. His fingers gracing mine slightly. I shiver and take a step back.
“Personal space,” I warn him, finally looking at him.
Even when I should be ready, I’m never prepared for the sight of him. It’s the eyes. Dark blue. Deep and enigmatic.
His arrogant grin expands. “Hey.”
“Next time, use a courier,” I insist.
“Apparently, someone ratted me out last December,” he complains, but he’s not upset one bit.
I grin because I did tattletale on him. What can I say? I thrive on making his life as miserable as he makes mine. Today, I’m not in the mood to dea
l with him. I grab what I need and go to the register.
“I’ll text June that you fulfilled your duty. Just leave me alone, okay?”
“Hannah,” he calls out as I’m leaving.
I wave. “Goodbye, Alex.”
This isn’t my first time running into Alex at the liquor store. It’s almost like a tradition to find him here. I wonder if he stalks me or if it’s pure coincidence. I speed up toward my apartment, while the first time I met him plays inside my head.
Uncut
Maroon 5’s “Sugar” blares through my ears as I walk inside Black Out, a nightclub located in downtown Malibu. My eyes adjust to the darkness, the strobing lights, and the sporadic laser effects bouncing off the walls. My gaze lifts. I admire the high ceiling, and observe the second-floor balconies that are filled with patrons drinking and dancing. I make my way through the dance floor. Swaying, sweaty bodies press and rub against each other, some against me. It’s been a long time since I visited a place like this. The stench of alcohol, adrenaline, and pheromones hit my nostrils. Man, I feel fucking old at thirty. I should start rethinking my life and go back to partying. A thought for another day. At the moment, I have to focus on the sweet little blonde taking me to the office of my brother’s business partner. She makes a right, leading me down a darkened hall toward a massive oak door. The sign next to it reads Manager.
The girl, whose name I never learned, wiggles the door handle, and opens it. “Mr. Cooperson, Mr. Decker is here for you.”
Before I step inside the office, Beyoncé’s “Drunk in Love” resonates through the walls. I wonder why the sudden change in rhythm from snappy to a more somber kind of music. Checking my watch, I realize it’s almost two o’clock in the morning.
Tristan Cooperson lays his pen down and lifts his head. And Oh. Holy. Shit. Those piercing dark green eyes make contact with mine. I drink in the gorgeous specimen before me. His dark, short hair highlights his facial features. A five o’clock shadow covers his chiseled jaw. His back straightens and his palms lay flat on the desk as his eyes penetrate mine. Fuck, I don’t know whether he’s undressing me or trying to eliminate me with that glare. All I know is that the room’s temperature just increased by a whole lot. I’m burning from the inside out.
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