by H. M. Ward
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 2
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 3
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 4
SECRET LIFE OF TRYSTAN SCOTT 5
THE ARRANGEMENT 7
THE ARRANGEMENT 8
THE ARRANGEMENT 9
THE ARRANGEMENT 10
THE ARRANGEMENT 11
SCANDALOUS 1
SCANDALOUS 2
STRIPPED 1
THE PROPOSITION 1
THE PROPOSITION 2
THE PROPOSITION 3
THE PROPOSITION 4
THE ARRANGEMENT 12
THE ARRANGEMENT 13
THE ARRANGEMENT 14
THE PROPOSITION 5
THE ARRANGEMENT 15
THE ARRANGEMENT 16
THE ARRANGEMENT 17
THE ARRANGEMENT 18
THE WEDDING CONTRACT
SECRETS & LIES 1
SECRETS & LIES 2
SECOND CHANCES
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 1
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 2
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 3
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 4
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 5
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 6
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 7
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 8
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 9
LIFE BEFORE DAMAGED 10
THE ARRANGEMENT 19
THE ARRANGEMENT 20
MANWHORE
BROKEN PROMISES
THE ARRANGEMENT 21
STRIPPED 2
SECRETS & LIES 3
SECRETS & LIES 4
SECRETS & LIES 5
SECRETS & LIES 6
THE ARRANGEMENT 22
SECRETS & LIES 7
A DAMAGED WEDDING
EASY 1
THE ARRANGEMENT 23
THE ARRANGEMENT 24
THE ARRANGEMENT 25
THE ARRANGEMENT 26
In loving memory of Dee, Liz, & John.
The Arrangement
Volume 26
Author’s Note on The Arrangement Series
The Arrangement Series is different. How? The story is organic—and growing swiftly. Originally intended to be four serial novels, fans of the series demanded more Sean & Avery, spurring an entirely new concept: a fan-driven series. When fans ask for more, I write more.
I am astonished and humbled by the response this series has received. As the series grows, I am constantly fascinated by the requests and insights from readers. This series has sold almost 13 MILLION copies! The average length of each book is 125 pages in paperback and can be read in a few hours or less.
This series intertwines with my other work, but is designed to be read independently, as a quick read between other titles.
You can join in the discussion via my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/AuthorHMWard.
For a complete listing of Ferro books, look here: http://hmward.com/books/
Thank you and happy reading!
~Holly
Chapter 1
Trepidation mingles with sweat and drips down my spine. The hospital gown feels like sandpaper against my sticky skin. Sean is standing next to me, squeezing my hand. I’m tipped backward in a position similar to gynecological visits—or the dentist. I’ve never liked that those offices seem to use the same chair, tipped to the same angle. Another contraction hits and turns my stomach into a wave of iron. It ripples, contracting so hard it feels as if I’ll tear in two. Gasping for breath, I dig my nails into Sean’s hand. Not on purpose. Actually, I don’t realize I’m practically ripping off his arm until the contraction passes.
“Sorry,” I gasp and smile at him sheepishly.
“For what?” He’s taken aback, gaping at me like I’m crazy. “For having a baby and being way too civil?”
No idea why, but that offends me. My jaw drops but before I can say anything, my abs turn to steel again without my consent. It feels like my skin is trying to crawl off my body. Or away from the very large round bump that was once a flat tummy. I thought I was fat then. I’m such an idiot. A cry rips from the back of my throat as Sean talks calmly, the way they taught him in the childbirth class. When it passes, I suck in air like it’s going out of style.
“Yeah, so why did you think I’d be a total bitch?” I plaster a grin on my face and beam up at him.
Sean lifts his hand to my sweat-soaked brow and then places a gentle kiss there. When he pulls away he smiles down at me. “Well, the woman sitting next to us in the childbirth class said some sobering things when you were in the ladies room.”
“I was always in the ladies room.”
“I know. I assumed they had an ice cream truck in there or something.” He arches a brow at me and reconsiders. “Cupcake machine?”
I snort a light laugh and nod. “Considering that was a pregnancy class, you’d think someone would have provided nourishment.”
“Pickles and pork chops?”
My face scrunches up. “Ewe, no! Cupcakes, Sean. And ice cream. Great, now I want ice cream and pork chops. Thanks for that.” He leans in and kisses my brow again.
“I’ll get you a cupcake machine for our bedroom.” He’s joking, but my face lights up so much that I think it may really be there when I get home.
Another contraction kicks in and I can no longer speak. The pain takes my breath away. Rationality flies out the window. I crush Sean’s hand with my tiny sausage link fingers and rasp out, “That cupcake machine needs to be right here right now. Fuck getting it later.” The last part sounds more like a ROAR than actual words.
Sean tries very hard not to laugh. His jaw tightens and his lips tip to the side. “Stop it! That look is what got us into this mess!”
Sean’s voice is soothing, calm. He strokes my forehead, pushing back wayward curls. “It’s a beautiful mess. And you’re a hot mess, yourself.”
“Are you serious? Do you think this is hot? I’m the size of my old car, I smell just as bad, and am literally leaking out of every orifice in my body.” I point to my eyes, which are still teary from the last contraction. “Not sexy.”
Sean leans in and presses his forehead to mine. “Incorrect, Smitty. A strong woman is very sexy.”
The nurse appears at my feet, checks the machines that monitor the babies’ heartbeats, and says with no little amount of snark, “Strong women use epidurals. Are you ready for yours?”
“Avery?” Sean looks at me. That face. He knows what I’m going to say. What I’m thinking.
I took the class, signed the consent forms, and planned on having it done. Block all that nasty pain. It seems stupid to endure it if I don’t have to, but…
“Can we wait?” Sean says it for me. Asking because my jaw is locked.
The thought of having a needle inserted into my spine is beyond me. I faced mobsters and rapists. I walked away from an explosion. But I’m afraid of a needle. Yeah. There it is.
Nurse Bet clears her throat and swallows her judgment a little too slowly. “We,” she emphasizes the word, making it clear that we need to decide now, “don’t have time to wait on this. It’s now or never, Hun. What will it be?”
Another contraction hits. I dig my nails into my palm and Sean’s arm as my back arches. I’ve felt so close to breaking over the past few months. So close to coming totally undone. It’s as if a switch flips inside me and I belt out my answer.
“NO!”
Sean snorts and pats my hand when I finally release my death grip on him. “You heard her. No epidural, but maybe something to help with the pain? At least a little bit?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want them born stoned and high.”
The nurse stares at me and mutters something about millennials.
“I am not! And it’s called idealism to the point of self—” explosion. I have no idea what I was going to say, but I think the kids are really trying to claw their way out of my belly. As that whole scene unfolds, Sean says things to that nurse in a low voice he rarely uses anymore. She blanches, spins on her heel, and is out the doo
r. A moment later the charge nurse is standing there.
“Mr. Ferro, please understand that the staff is here to help.”
“No problem. Send in someone helpful. Bet is having a bad day and since Avery is as she is, well, let’s just put her first right now. If you’d be so kind.” Sean lifts his hand and indicates the door.
“Please understand that all new parents feel this way, Avery. We can add the meds for the pain to the IV at any time should you change your mind, but if we don’t do the epidural now, you won’t have one.”
I shake my head again and look her in the eye. “No.”
Fully irrational, super pregnant, crazy lady. That’s me. She respects my decision though and doesn’t ask about it again. “Alright. If you decide,” she says if not when, actually respecting my decision, “you need something to take the edge off, push the button. Otherwise, I’ll check on you again shortly.”
“Wait,” I call out, lifting my hand for her to stop.
She turns, slowly. She has her dark hair slicked back into a ponytail which makes the lines around her eyes easier to see. Eyes that have seen a lot of joy and too much suffering. She’s probably twice my weight, but the woman is built like a tank. Add in the Brooklyn accent and I get the feeling I’d like her if we met elsewhere.
“Yes, Mrs. Ferro?”
“Avery.” I smile at her. “Nothing, I just wanted to say thank you. Maybe Bet is being nice and I can’t tell. Or not. I don’t know, but you just made me feel like I can do this, on my terms, my way—and didn’t make me feel bad about it. So, thanks.”
“Of course.”
Chapter 2
With every contraction, I think about how dumb I am for not taking the epidural. Sean’s arm is bleeding where my nails have pierced his skin. We’re nearly there now. Nine. Almost to the magic number, and I’ve managed not to take anything yet. When we hit 10 and my insides feel like they’re being shredded, I can’t help it. I need something. A pouch is immediately attached to my IV and I still feel every bit of it, but it’s as if the whole thing has lessened a fraction—just enough to make it tolerable.
I’m lying. This blows, but I can do it. I can. I’m chanting my own inner mantra that’s a cross between the Little Engine that Could and daydreaming about a cupcake machine when the first baby is born. Then there’s Dr. Liz, a flurry of nurses, and they take him away before I can blink.
Sean’s eyes follow the baby. It’s his gaze I don’t like, but something else bothers me. It’s quiet. Only the sounds of scuffling feet and hushed hurried voices. I push up on my elbows, trying to see over the pack of nurses surrounding my baby. “Why isn’t he crying?”
Dr. Liz places a hand firmly on my knee. “We aren’t done yet, Avery. This part is hard. You have to do that again. I need you focused here. They’ll take care of him.”
“But he should cry.”
“He will,” Dr. Liz says and doesn’t divide her focus for a second. “Now come on. His sister is waiting.”
The process of contractions, tearing, and screaming repeats. I don’t ask for more pain medication. This baby is playing peek-a-boo. She crowns and then slips back. Well, I can’t see anything, but that’s what it feels like, and let me tell you—the birth canal is a one-way road right now and feeling her slip backward is just wrong. I make a strangled sound that scares Sean. His blue eyes filled with worry as he wraps his arm around my shoulder, whispers things I can’t hear into my ear.
Dr. Liz’s voice breaks through, “Avery Stanz! Listen. Now. When I tell you to, push. No sooner and no longer. Do you understand?”
I nod.
“Say YES.” She’s snapping at me. I want to cry, which makes me realize I still can’t hear his little voice. They’re still attending to him, but there are no additional doctors. He must be all right. He has to be.
“YES.” I snap at her. She tells me when to push and how long. I get the feeling that something isn’t quite right because she tells me to stop at a point that’s not possible, but I try. A rush of air, then I suck in sharply, while she does something. Then I feel it, hear it—hear her little voice. Dr. Liz is moving the baby around.
Dr. Liz speaks quickly as her eyes flick to her tools and the nurse. Her hands fly faster than before. “The cord got tangled where it shouldn’t be, but we’ve got it fixed now. We’re just going slowly, head, shoulder, and then the next shoulder.” I’m directed to push again and then we stop. Still, only one tiny voice crying.
“Sean, is he okay?” I try to see our son, but can’t.
“He’s fine.” But I can hear the tightness in Sean’s throat. He doesn’t know and he can’t go look because he’s staying here with us.
“A few more moments Avery and then you can hold your babies. Let’s finish this.” Dr. Liz delivers my baby girl and I reach for her before they can wrap her in a blanket. She’s laid on my chest and I hold onto her as she finds my breast. The emotion racing through me is a tidal wave.
“The boy?” I ask, too afraid now.
Sean walks across the room and I hear his deep timbre conversing with the nurses, but I don’t know what they’re saying.
“Sean?” Panic laces my voice. He doesn’t need to turn to know that I’m ready to get out of this bed to see my son if someone doesn’t fucking tell me what’s wrong. “Give him to me. Now.”
Sean turns toward me with the baby in his arms. Little pink fingers grip Sean’s pointer. He stares at the baby in awe. “He’s just the strong, silent type, Avery. He’s fine.”
Tears are rushing down my cheeks. “I thought he was…” I can’t say it.
“He’s fine. A healthy baby boy.” The head nurse tells me. “Some children come into the world screaming. Most do. A few are more docile, quiet—but not silent. And this poor thing got scraped with the monitor. I’m afraid he has a scratch or two on his head.”
“But he’s alright?”
“Yes.” She says. “They are both beautiful. Ten fingers and ten toes.” She backs up and returns to the cradle to finish whatever she was doing.
Dr. Liz finishes and points a finger in my face. “Rest. I mean it. Send the twins to the nursery and sleep. God knows you won’t get another night of it for eighteen years.”
I shake my head. “No, I want them here. Can they stay with me?”
“Of course.” Dr. Liz looks at Sean. “Make sure she sleeps. At least a little bit.” Then she’s out the door, trailing the frenzied nurse down the hallway.
Sean and I are alone with our children.
I have babies. They’re mine. Ours.
Instant family. I was just me a few months ago. Now, they’re here. I know them from the months of kicking my ribs and sitting on my bladder. I would have sworn one of them was swimming laps in there, but I’ve never met them. Never held them in my arms and looked into their faces.
Sean lowers my son, a blue bundle of blankets with a dark crown of hair peeking out the top. I lift my arms as Sean lowers him to the crook of my arm. Then he reaches for the girl—our daughter—in the clear bassinet and places her opposite her brother. “Ferro twins.” I smile up at him. “This is going to be a little bit crazy.”
“Good,” Sean admits, “I like when things get a little cray cray.”
I giggle even though my body feels like it was hit by a Mack truck. Sean is at my side, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hand on my knee. I’m a sweaty, gross, mess of a woman, but at that moment, I don’t care about any of that. I feel like my heart is full for the first time in forever. I lift my gaze and meet Sean’s sapphire eyes. “Cray cray is my middle name.”
“Are we going to make that a family name?” He says it so straight-faced I would have thought he was serious if I didn’t know him better.
Deadpan, I reply, “Yes. Cray Cray Constance Ferro. She’d fit right in.” Glancing at my daughter, I stifle a snort of laughter because it makes the lower half of my body scream with pain. I should have asked the nurse for something before she left, but I was still flying high o
n baby love.
“Constance?” Sean smirks that crooked grin, the one he gets when he’s surprised. I love that smile, those lips. “You aren’t seriously considering making her a namesake?”
“Stop talking like Ritchie Rich and help me pick a name.”
“Yes, Velma.”
“Velma!” I’m smiling. “Really? Orange sweater nerd? I was wearing a leather bodice and I’m not a nerd.”
“No?”
“I’m a dork, honey. Fine line, but big difference.”
“Ah yes, the snort is an indication, yes?”
I giggle and then slap his forearm. “Don’t make me laugh!”
Sean nods slowly. The smile hasn’t left his face since he sat down next to me. His eyes rove the scene of me in a drenched hospital gown with two dark haired babies, one in each arm. The neck of my gown is dipped low and covered in sweat. My hair was styled by Medusa’s blind cousin and I have no idea what’s going on below the knee, and I don’t want to know. They covered me in white blankets when the nurses left. They’ll be back any moment to move us to a different area.
Our gazes are connected in a softness so intense and so serene it feels like his hand is pressed to my soul. Time has stopped and we remain like that, eyes lingering on the other, feeling too much emotion to speak. His full mouth is tipped up in both corners revealing that dimple. The one that hides from me. Seeing the happiness on his face is something so rare and precious. I don’t want to blink. I’m afraid to speak and shatter this moment.
The door flies open, but Sean remains where he is, his gaze doesn’t swerve toward the sound. He lifts a hand, and waves his fingers over his shoulder as if he knows who it is.
I glance up, I can’t help it—if there’s a loud bang—I’ve got to look. The sight standing before my eyes leaves me shocked. My jaw drops open as one of the Ferro twins walks into the room. Strong. Healthy. And very much alive.
“Bryan?”
Chapter 3
Before the man can reply, before I know for certain that it’s not him, a wave of people crests into the room. Everyone dressed in solid black with earpieces. Constance follows sporting her usual blood red. Her fingernails are points in a matching matte color. She lifts a manicured hand, “Have we had enough wallowing with the peasants now?” She doesn’t wait for us to reply. “Good. I have the all-clear from your doctor to relocate you to a decent room.”
