by MK Schiller
“Girl, they must be giving you some really good stuff because it sounds like you’re smoking crack. You’re thanking me for coming to the hospital? They couldn’t keep me away.”
“I’m thanking you for coming to Portland. I’m thanking you for finding me.”
He trailed kisses along my forehead. “You found me. Besides, I had to come. I was missing something, and I had to find it.”
“What?”
“My heart. A man can’t function without his heart.”
Epilogue
My wife laughed at me. I guess I deserved it for all the times I made fun of her when we were shopping and she’d insist on studying every label at the store as I was doing now. “I think you can just pick one. They’re all the same.”
“No, baby, I don’t think they are. We want to get an accurate result here.”
She sighed. “You know I have to go to my gynecologist to have an official test, right?”
I took her arm and pulled her against my chest. “I know, but your appointment’s not until next week, and I can’t wait that long. I want to know tonight.”
I looked down at her, tracing the small white line on her cheek, the last semblance of the ugly scar he left. After a great deal of arguing, she’d finally agreed to the surgery, but only when Momma talked her into it. I was glad because I saw the melancholy in her beautiful face when she looked in the mirror, and I couldn’t stand it.
They had found six more bodies under the floorboards of that cottage—all missing girls in their mid-twenties with long brown curly hair. My muscles tightened every time I thought she could have ended up there. Joe had corroborated my story that I killed the bastard in self-defense, and no one had questioned it. After all, Eddie wouldn’t be missed.
She took my hand in hers. “I don’t know if this is the right time, but I want to tell you something that I’ve been thinking of for a long time.”
“You can tell me anything anytime.”
“No matter what this test says, I want to go back home.”
I stared at her in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I want to go back to Prairie. We both know you came to Portland only to find me, but it’s time for us to go home.”
“Will you be happy there?” I knew all the other issues were done now. She was safe, and we were never letting each other go again. Hell, even economically we were doing very well. She painted full time, and her work was in demand, as was mine. We both had jobs that would allow us to live anywhere. But the folks had never been especially nice to her there.
“Yes, my family lives there.”
I took her in my arms and embraced her tightly. “Sounds good to me.”
“I want our children to be baptized at the church, I want you to teach them how to fish at our lake, and I want them to play football, too.”
“What if we have a girl?”
“Then you’ll have to teach her not to throw like a girl.”
I laughed, placing my hand on her waist. I’d been doing that a lot since she’d told me she was late. We were both getting a little too excited about this, but either way it felt good to plan a future. She was mine in every way, and I was hers.
“Just pick one already so we can go. We’re making a scene.”
I laughed at her shyness. Some things never changed. “I know what we’ll do. We’ll get three different ones. That way we’ll be sure not to get a false positive.”
I picked out three different brands and threw them into the basket in her hand. She stared at me, dubiously, shaking her head. “I don’t even think I can pee that much.”
I grinned. “We’ll stagger the tests. You don’t have to do them at the same time.” I took the basket from her arm and started walking toward the register.
“Cal, wait,” she said, motioning me back to her.
“What? I thought you wanted to get out of here.”
She waited until I was close, and then she said the words quietly so we wouldn’t be overheard. “We can’t leave the store with three pregnancy tests.”
“Why not?”
“It’s weird.”
I laughed, cupping her chin. “Baby, we’ve been married for six months. I don’t think this is weird at all.”
“I know, but we should get some other stuff.”
I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to win this argument. “Fine, you go get something and I’ll get something. We’ll meet back here, okay?”
“’Kay.”
After I found what I was looking for, I was glad she had suggested this. Every day with her was like a precious gift, and I treated it that way. We’d returned to Prairie to spend the holidays with my family and to say our vows in front of the people we loved in the very church where we’d forged a friendship on the swing set. She was Sylvie Tanner now.
It was a beautiful wedding where Tommy and Mandy stood up for us. Momma cried a great deal, but they were tears of joy. I even managed to bite my tongue when Mona Simms boasted how she knew Sylvie was always alive. I had wanted to slap that woman, but my gracious wife just smiled and thanked her for her prayers. So, I had kept my comments to myself.
I walked over to her, smiling with each step that brought me closer to my wife, my best friend, my fishing buddy, and the only girl I would ever love. She stood by the display of books with a mischievous smile, hands behind her back.
“What did you get?” she asked me.
I held up the two items in my hand, a bottle of wine and a pint of ice cream. When she arched her brow at me, I said, “I’m not sure if we’ll be commiserating or celebrating.”
“So, the wine’s if we’re commiserating and the ice cream’s if we’re celebrating? It’s usually the opposite for me.”
“Either way you’re going to have the ice cream, and I’m going to have the wine, at least until we know for sure, but I thought I’d get something for each of us. What’s behind your back?”
She looked coyly away. I placed my items in the basket at her feet and rubbed her arms. “Show me.”
She held out what I’d expected to see. The novel had a picture of a raven against a blue-gray backdrop. The scroll writing on the front embellished the words. Raven’s Return by Caleb James Tanner, cover art by Sophie Tanner. It wasn’t exactly our story, but there were strands of hard truth buried in the fiction. Besides, who would have believed our story anyway?
I took it out of her hand. “We’ve talked about this.” I placed it back on the bestseller rack, unable to hide my smile since it sat next to its prequel, Raven Girl, which was receiving a second life thanks to the popularity of my newest book.
“I can’t pass it by without buying it.”
“We have a hundred copies at home. You’re seriously cutting into our profit margin here. Besides, how do you expect me to support a family if you keep buying things we don’t need?”
“At least read the dedication to me.”
“I’ve read it to you a hundred times.”
“Then a hundred and one. I will never get tired of hearing it.”
I couldn’t deny her anything, least of all this. “Come here.”
She leaned against my chest, and I grabbed the book, placing it in front of us so she could read along with me. I bent down low so I could whisper in her ear.
“To all the girls I’ve loved before,
To Sylvie, Sophie, Gabrielle, and Lenore,
The raven may tap and crow upon my door,
But regardless of fate or enticing lures,
I promise to love you forevermore.”
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MK Schiller Books
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Other Books from M
K Schiller –
The Scars Between Us
Kiss the Sky
Eight Days in the Sun
Where the Lotus Flowers Grow
Unwanted Girl
The Other C-Word
Variables of Love
The Do-Over
Lost Years
http://www.mkschillerauthor.com/books/
About MK Schiller
Stories about love and other four-letter words
Not knowing a word of English, MK Schiller came to America at the age of four from India. Since then, all she’s done is collect words. After receiving the best gift ever from her parents—her very own library card—she began reading everything she could get her greedy hands on. At sixteen, a friend asked her to make up a story featuring the popular bad boy at school. This wasn’t fan fiction…it was friend fiction. From that day on, she’s known she wanted to be a writer. With the goal of making her readers both laugh and cry, MK Schiller has penned more than a dozen books, each one filled with misfit characters overcoming obstacles and finding true love. Want more news on MK’s exclusive giveaways, sales, and new releases?
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Excerpt from The Do-Over
Arrogant womanizer, Kyle Manchester hates blind dates but when best friend, Brad calls in a favor, insisting Kyle take out his girlfriend’s sister, Kyle reluctantly agrees. Attorney Lanie Carmichael’s appearance is no surprise. She is dowdy, awkward, and dressed in so many layers she resembles a wedding cake...and not in an edible way. Her brazen attitude though, astonishes him, especially when she explains she has no interest in gorgeous Kyle. Lanie Carmichael is in love with Brad, and wants Kyle’s assistance in winning his best friend’s heart.
Kyle gradually accepts, justifying that the mystery of Lanie has sparked his natural, thirsty curiosity. As an ambitious journalist, he also can’t resist the Pulitzer worthy scoop she offers him. However, as Lanie sheds more layers, both emotionally and physically, Kyle begins to examine his life choices, and his true feelings for this enigmatic girl. With Kyle’s support, Lanie begins to unravel the secrets of her past, and the deep pain that has quietly defined her life. As they each learn more about themselves and each other, both question how a relationship built on fraudulent lies between two broken people could ever survive.
Chapter One
Kyle Manchester sat at Duggan’s Pub sipping the last of his top-shelf whiskey and wondering where in the hell Brad Jansen was. He was fifteen minutes late. Boy Scout Brad had probably stopped to help a blind person cross the street or take an abandoned litter of kittens to a shelter. Kyle was using the time to scope out women.
The red-haired vixen in the corner had been eyeing him since he’d walked through the door. He nodded in her direction. She rewarded him with a sexy smile. He played his favorite game to pass the time, guessing her to be a 36 D but probably fake. He was usually right on both counts and was able to validate his estimates since he typically examined the subjects up close. He was proud of his accuracy on the size but disgusted by the amount of saline in women today. There were so few real women anymore. Getting breast augmentation was as common as having wisdom teeth pulled. It wasn’t a deal breaker though. He enjoyed women of all shapes and sizes, fake or real. Until he got bored, usually around the third time he fucked them. That was when girls started talking about relationships and that dreaded F word…future. It never failed, even though Kyle was always up-front with them. He didn’t have that special commitment gene like Brad did. The absence of that trait was as much a part of his inherent genetic makeup as his green eyes and black hair. Kyle motioned to the attractive, raven-haired bartender for another drink and ordered one for the buxom redhead too.
“I love the way you handle the neck of the bottle,” he complimented her, displaying a sly smile that showed off his chipped tooth, a feature many women said made them wet on sight.
“I know how to handle a bottle,” the bartender replied with a wink.
“Hard to believe.” Kyle grinned.
“What, that I know how to handle a bottle?” she asked, leaning over just enough to show off the slope of some promising, pert breasts.
“No, that I’m jealous of a bottle of scotch,” he said.
“Sorry I’m late, bro,” Brad said as he sat on the stool next to him. Kyle sighed, perturbed by Brad’s timing.
“I’m sorry you showed up at all. I was about to close a deal with the busty beauty in the corner.” Kyle jutted his chin, gesturing to the redhead who was doing naughty things with her straw.
“So what? You think because I sit next to you she’s going to think you’re gay or something?”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Two minutes with me, and she’ll know I’m not gay.”
“You’ve got more stamina these days?” Brad said, followed by a hearty laugh.
“Put his beer on my tab,” Kyle said to the bartender. He shook his head at his childhood friend. “Two minutes doesn’t even cover the opening attractions.”
“You know most girls want more than casual sex, right?” They’d had this conversation many times. Brad didn’t approve of Kyle’s lifestyle, but they usually joked about it.
“Luckily, those girls have you. At least, after I’m done with them.”
“God, you’re a whore.”
“I don’t charge. It’s consensually casual. The way I like it. I don’t even charge you.”
“Charge me for what?”
“For living vicariously through me.”
Brad chuckled, but the statement wasn’t completely false. Brad didn’t do casual, but he seemed a little too interested in Kyle’s exploits. It was apparent there was some envy there. Kyle’s eyes stayed fixed on the fiery seductress who was gaping back at him. They were having their own conversation.
“Jesus, can you just look at me for a second? I have a favor to ask you.”
Kyle straightened up and turned to Brad. “You didn’t just want to watch me close a deal?”
“Entertaining as that may be, I’ll have to pass,” Brad replied dryly.
“What do you want?”
“You know I’ve been seeing a girl for a few months now.”
“Yeah, um…Callie?” Kyle rarely had the ability to recall the names of girls he was with, let alone keep track of Brad’s girlfriends.
“Cassie.” Brad rolled his eyes.
“Sorry. Names aren’t my strong suit.”
“Bullshit. I’ve seen you remember names I can’t even spell.”
“If they pertain to a story.” Kyle savored his last sip and motioned for another drink.
“Well, whatever. Anyway, I really like her a lot and…”
“I won’t fuck her. Bros before hos,” Kyle joked.
“Jesus, Kyle! Cassie’s no whore.”
“Sorry. I’m sure she’s lovely. Not that I’d know since you haven’t introduced us.”
“Well, I want to. Actually, I was wondering if you’d be interested in going out with her sis—”
“No.” The statement came out with such force that heads turned, conversations stopped, and even the bartender overfilled the shot glass because she was staring at them.
“Hear me out,” Brad said.
“I’m not into setups. You know that.”
“Lanie’s very nice. She’s an attorney too and works at my firm. She’s very successful.”
“Yep, and I bet she wears granny panties.”
“You’re disgusting. Do you know how offensive you are?”
“Offensive? To grandmas?” Kyle asked with a wicked grin.
Brad hesitated, opening and closing his mouth, before choosing his words. “She’s not bad looking.”
“Yeah, well, ‘not bad looking’ doesn’t mean good-looking, and even if it did, that’s way below
hot.”
“She’s a nice girl, and she’s very intelligent…and articulate…and successful.”
“Just the kind of girl I avoid. Tell me something, Brad. Is your girlfriend hot?”
“Cassie’s beautiful.” Brad took out his cell phone and scrolled through photos.
“Give me that.” Kyle snatched Brad’s cell phone and laid it on the counter.
“What are you—”
“See how fast you responded when I asked if your girlfriend’s hot?”
“She is.”
“Yeah, and the sister’s successful, intelligent, and what was it?” Kyle drummed his fingers on the bar and pretended to think. “Oh yeah, articulate.”
“Because I’m not dating her.”
“Is Angelina Jolie hot?”
“Hell yes,” Brad answered without pause.
“See? No hesitation, and yet I don’t believe you’re dating Angelina Jolie. Jesus, Brad, you’re the lawyer, but I seem to be making a very strong case for myself.”
“Look…she’s a very nice girl.”
“Then why the hell do you want to set her up with me?” Kyle turned around, set his elbows on the bar, and smiled at the well-endowed redhead. God, she’s doing delicious things with that straw.
“Good question. I feel sorry for her. She’s always working. She and Cassie live together. I see her working her butt off at work, and then I see her every night in front of her laptop.”
“Oh? Does Mommy live there too? How fun for you.”
Brad gave Kyle a warning glance. “No, it’s just Lanie and Cassie.”
“I get it. You want me to babysit.” Even as he said it, Kyle knew that wasn’t Brad’s intent. Brad was the kind of man girls swooned over—the first to offer a loan, help a friend move, or give a stranded coworker’s car a jump in the middle of winter. He was Mr. Fantastic while Kyle was Mr. Fucktastic. It was amazing they had remained friends all these years with their differing views about most things, especially the opposite sex.
