He studied me for a while, his gaze full of complete understanding. “You and me, we got this. I’m going to spend the rest of my life loving you. I’m going to give you whatever you want, Unicorn Girl. I’m going to kiss you every single night. I’m going to fuck you and then make love to you. I’m going to give you kids. A home. Happiness. All of my heart.”
Joy filled my soul. “Will you read Jane Austen to me naked?”
He barked out a weak laugh. “I’ll do one better. I’ll make love to you and quote the whole bloody book at the same time.”
“Mm, I could get used to that.”
“Just making sure you get what you want, love.”
We laughed and held each other close as sun rose higher in the sky.
One year later
I SETTLED IN on the bench and gazed at the garden surrounding one of the water fountains in Hyde Park. I looked around for Declan, but he’d left to grab us water from one of the vendors near the entrance.
It was a chilly yet beautiful October morning and we were in London for the week to catch up with old school chums and family members of his mom’s.
I sighed. It had been a wonderful year considering the hell we’d been through.
I was in my last year of school, but I’d given up my job at the bookstore to work on my jewelry. Meyers had offered me another contracting design job, and when I wasn’t studying, I was working on new creations.
Blake and Shelley were together. Most of the time. They fought a lot, and I didn’t know if it was going to work out, but I had my fingers crossed.
Dax was his usual self, partying at the frat house and sleeping around. I knew the real man though. Underneath that shiny veneer was a guy looking for love.
My mom had left Karl, and the last time I’d seen her, she’d already found a new guy—a drummer she’d met at a concert.
Declan’s father had given him and Dax a graduation gift of several hundred thousand dollars, therefore canceling the loan. Mr. Blay swore it had always been his intention to give each of his children a college graduation present, and the boys didn’t argue. Mr. Blay and Declan had formed a kind of truce, and while it wasn’t a total reconciliation, it was progress. Dinners at the Blay mansion were still a bit testy and odd, but I was content. Another mountain for us to climb, and we were armed and ready.
It was the best family I’d ever had.
As far as Colby went, he was in jail awaiting trial for first-degree attempted murder for me as well as a count of second-degree attempted murder for Declan. With the duct tape and penknife, it was going to be extremely difficult to prove his innocence. Senator Scott’s personal assistant had also come forward, revealing the blackmail scheme hatched by Karl and Mom, giving Colby plenty of motivation. His sentencing could be up to life in prison without parole. He and his father had done their best to get him out on bail, but because he was a flight risk, it had never come to fruition.
He’d been charged with rape as well, which has no statute of limitations in North Carolina, but the burden of truth rested with me, and my lawyers would have a difficult time proving it. There were pictures of me drunk at prom and the chaperones had tossed us out for being intoxicated. But I’d decided to tell my whole story in court, and Shelley and Blake would also testify. We didn’t know if it would be enough to convict him, but I was in it for the long haul. I was worth it. Declan had told me that a long time ago outside the truck stop, and now I believed it.
Declan came back from the refreshment stand with two bottles of water, his long legs crossing the park as a group of women across the fountain ogled him with hungry eyes—but he ignored them, his gaze locked on mine.
The gym had opened officially in February, and we’d had a huge grand opening party this past May. We were living in an apartment he’d had renovated in the back, and it was small, but for now, it was just us and it was enough.
He smiled at me as he sat down next to me and took my hand to hold it. We’d been coming here each afternoon to take in the pretty flowers and people watch.
Just then, a fluttering flashed across the bench and landed next to us. A dragonfly.
I let out a small gasp and went to nudge Declan, but he’d already seen it.
“She knows I found you,” he murmured and wrapped me up in a hug. We watched as the blue insect hovered around us, flitting from one side of us to the other for the longest time, until finally, she flew away …
The End
Dear reader, if you enjoy passion and angst, take a peek at the first five chapters of my New York Times Best-Selling book Very Bad Things (Amazon Top 5 Book and #1 in New Adult and College Age Romance).
Leaving behind her mansion and Jimmy Choos, Nora Blakely becomes a girl hell-bent on pushing the limits with alcohol, drugs, and meaningless sex. Then she meets her soulmate, but he doesn’t want her.
Sexy gym owner Leo Tate has one rule: never fall in love…until Nora shows up with her list of bad things. He resists the pull of their sizzling connection, hung up on their age difference.
Welcome to Briarcrest Academy, where the best things in life are VERY BAD THINGS.
“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: am I or are they crazy?”
–Albert Einstein
WEISSNICHTWO.
Yeah, that’s not an easy word to say. Yet these often mispronounced staccato syllables have been ticking in my brain like the click of my piano teacher’s metronome for the past fifteen minutes . . . weiss-nicht-wo, weiss-nicht-wo, weiss-nicht-wo. I tapped my fingers to the beat.
This obscure word was coined by Thomas Carlyle in his satirical work Sartor Resartus, so it’s not surprising the organizers selected it for the Belltone National Spelling Bee. Even the best speller might be thrown off by it, maybe because the /w/ is pronounced as a Germanic /v/ or maybe they make the rookie mistake of forgetting to capitalize the beginning.
But four years ago, I’d made no mistake at that renowned spelling bee. I’d been perfect, since screwing up was not allowed in my family. In my last year to compete and at the age of fourteen, I’d nailed Weissnichtwo, beating out the pimply, homeschooled kid from Rhode Island in round six.
My IQ tested at 162 and most considered that genius level. Yet, I still had to work my ass off for the spelling bee, studying the two-hundred-page word list and thirty thousand flash cards for two hours a day, four days a week. For an entire year. In those days, I was quick to remind people that Einstein was a proven horrible speller.
My mother snapped her fingers in my face. “Nora Grace, please stop slumping and sit up. Good posture improves your overall attractiveness. You know this.”
I straightened my back.
“Mr. Cairn’s about to call you to the podium,” she said. “Don’t let me down.”
I nodded.
She twisted her lips as she scanned over my new dress and brown sandals. “That yellow dress was a very bad idea. It completely washes you out, and I’m surprised my assistant picked it out. She usually has better taste. Please don’t wear that—” she gestured at my outfit, “terrible ensemble again.” She sighed. “At least you didn’t wear those disgusting cowboy boots.”