I stare at the image of the white, oversized, camper-style mug with the words, “I’m not only a baker, I’m a grandma. What’s your superpower?” wrapped around it in a beautiful bold script of lilac and yellow.
My hands shake as I work to type a reply.
Me: She’s going to love it. It’s perfect.
Keaton: Can I come inside now, or do I need to get anything changed?
Me: You did good, Mr. Hatfield. I think I need you to do some very stupid things to me now…get in here.
Keaton: Fuck, I love you.
Keaton: And you sure about the mug? Greta said if you didn’t like anything, she’d redo it.
Me: Keat!!!
Keaton: Yeah?
Me: Why are you still sitting in your car in the driveway?
I hear the car door slam, and Keaton’s feet pounding up the drive. When I open the door, and he immediately drops to his knees, kissing my belly while holding onto my waist, and places the bag he’s holding as well as a carton of eggs beside him.
“Hey, little baby. Did you know your mom’s life gives purpose to mine?” he says, looking up to meet my eyes as I start to run my hand along his cheek. “It took me a fuc—a heck—” he corrects himself, and I laugh “—of a long time to clue in and admit it. But now that I know? My life’s purpose is simple…”
“Keat…” I feel my nose start to tingle, and tears cloud my eyes.
He continues, his gorgeous green eyes so full of love. “…to make my Hellcat happy, to prove to her that I’m worthy of being the man she loves, and worthy of being her ending, her happily ever after, just as she’s always been mine. Did you know your mommy’s my first love?” He kisses my belly again as he wraps his hands around my waist, still on his knees, and pulls me in close before he begins to speak again.
“She’s my first love,” he repeats, then looks up to meet my gaze, “my only love. And if she’ll agree, she’ll be my last.”
He reaches for my left hand and I feel him slip a ring onto my finger. All I seem to be able to do is to stand here, soundlessly nodding my head and weeping, which I hope he understands means “Yes”.
“Keaton…” I say, my voice shaky when I can finally speak again. Lifting my left hand, I gasp when I see the beautiful emerald-cut diamond atop the platinum engagement ring sparkling in the morning sun of our open front entrance.
“I’m not done down here, yet.” He gives me a cheeky grin, the one I love almost as much as I do him. “And now,” he pauses, trailing kisses across my stomach, “I’ll spend my days not only making sure your mommy knows she’s loved, but making sure you feel it, too, because Daddy loves you so much already it’s crazy. Insane, actually.” He laughs at himself, and I don’t think I’ve ever found him sexier than I do seeing him on his knees, talking to our baby.
“Keaton?” He looks up at me again, and I smile. Knowing I need him.
“You can’t say shit like that,” I say, taking his cheeks in my hands. Tears of happiness cascade down my face.
He tilts his head to one side, as if needing clarification.
“What stuff?” he grin.
“Stupid stuff.” I pull on his shoulders, signalling that I want him to rise.
“Oh yeah?” His arches his brow, that smile tiptoeing across his face. He rises in front of me, taking my left hand in his, rubbing his fingers over my new ring.
We pause.
There’s so much love passing between us that I can barely take it.
“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around him.
“Why not?” he asks, pulling me closer. Our chests line up perfectly, stimulating my sensitive nipples.
“It makes me think of doing stupid stuff.”
He kisses my nose, and moves down over my jaw and into my neck, inhaling in the spot he loves so much. “To me?”
“Always to you,” I promise.
“Stupidly special stuff?”
“Extra-special stupid stuff,” I whisper, and I feel his lips opening in a smile against my throat before he moves to face me. His beautiful green eyes reflect so much happiness that it steals my breath.
“Keat?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“You’re my first love, my only love, and the ending I always knew I wanted,” I say, placing my finger over his mouth, not wanting a response, but he pushes my hand out of the way and fuses his lips to mine, kicking the door closed behind him.
“I love you, too, Hellcat,” he says.
Then Keaton picks me up and carries me to our bedroom, where we do the most stupid of all the special things to each other, the extra-special stupid stuff we both love so much.
The End
(In case you were curious, Katie Hatfield was not only completely over the moon with her new mug and the news of her soon becoming a grandmother, she’s also now contemplating adding “Psychic” to her resume.)
Playlist
(Can be found on Spotify)
Just You and I – Tom Walker
I Don’t Think About You – 10Digits, Jordan Alexander
If I Told You That I Love You (feat. Wale) – Steve Aoki, Wale
Mattress – Leland
Almost Home – Sultan + Shepard, Nadia Ali, IRO
Bend – Ria Mae
All My Love (feat. Conor Maynard) – Cash Cash, Conor Maynard
shedontknowbutsheknows – Tove Lo
She’s On My Mind – JP Cooper
Love Me – Forest Blakk
Somebody – The Chainsmokers, Drew Love
Body – Loud Luxury, Brando
(Feels Like) Heaven – Fiction Factory
I Fall Apart – Post Malone
Make Me (Cry) – Noah Cyrus, Labrinth
Let Me – ZAYN
Creep On Me – GASHI, French Montana, DJ Snake
Born To Be Yours – Kygo, Imagine Dragons
Comedown – Bush
When You Say Nothing At All – Boyzone
Better – Khalid
ocean eyes – Billie Eilish
In Love With a Boy – Kaya Stewart
XO – EDEN
All Girls Are The Same – Juice WRLD
To Know Him Is To Love Him – Live – Amy Winehouse
Falling In Love – Sam Cooke
Baby, You Make Me Crazy – Sam Smith
I’m Not Her – Acoustic – Clara Mae
Hey Stephen – Taylor Swift
I Like Me Better – Lauv
I Think I’m In Love – Kat Dahlia
Fire Woman – The Cult
In My Feelings – Drake
Without Me – Halsey
Deuces Are Wild – Aerosmith
Sunflower – Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse – Post Malone, Swae Lee
Pass This On – The Knife
Ooh Love – Ria Mae
Close To Me (with Diplo) (feat. Swae Lee) – Ellie Goulding, Diplo, Swae Lee
Forever – Soldout
Acknowledgments
Thank you so much for taking the time to read my words. As always, it takes the talents of many amazing people to publish a book. I seriously have the best army behind me, and am grateful every day for all the support I’m given.
Angie—I don’t have the right words, so instead have a whole book! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Ashley—You have been such an incredible addition to my team! I cannot thank you enough for your time and feedback on this story. Mostly, though, thank you for becoming such a great friend! XOX
Brynne—YOU! I am so grateful for your friendship. I’m truly blessed, and I can’t thank you enough for what you did to help this book become what I needed it to be. I owe you big time, my beautiful American-Sometimes-Candaian-ish-friend.
Carleen—You honestly inspired me, you helped me to become excited about this story again after being stuck inside my head for so long about it. Thank your kindness, and feedback.
Donna—You’ve become such an important person not only to my journey as a writer, but also as a friend. I couldn’t imagine
doing this without you, and I’m beyond grateful for our friendship. Thank you for the time you give to me and my crazy-ass story rants and panics.
Doris—Thank you for lending me those amazing eyes of yours again and again.
Jen (ESM)—I thought this one might break us, but again we pulled it off. We are an amazing team, and I could not—and would not—do this without you! I lurrrve you!
Karl and Max—You guys are my world. Thank you for always supporting me. I couldn’t do this without you.
Mandie—You, my cheeky little Brit, have become such an important part of my life. Thank you for putting up with me. I’m honoured to call you a friend, and to have you on my team. Your opinion and feedback help so much.
Mom—I don’t think you realize how much I mean it when I say I couldn’t do this without you. I really couldn’t. You are such an incredible woman, and I’m truly the luckiest to have you as my mom. Your support is everything!
Toni—Thank you for being such an amazing friend and for always helping me when I need it. I owe you the most.
To my reader group, Gilly’s Gems—You ladies rock my world. Thank you for sticking around, making me laugh, and most of all, for the friendships we’ve made. You’ll never know what your support means to me.
I cannot thank Natasha at Read Review Repeat (RRR) Promotions enough for all of her hard work. You are a wonderful support and friend, and I’m grateful to have you in my corner.
To all the bloggers, bookstagrammers, and readers, thank you for your continued support of my work. I couldn’t do this without you. Please know I’m so very appreciative of all the hard work you do and, again, if ever I can repay the favour, please send me a message.
And last but not least, to the most amazing readers ever—your continuing support is the most incredible feeling! Thank you for taking a chance on my stories!
About the Author
Wife, mother, shoe collector, pun lover, and proud Canadian. Teacher by day, pantser of words by night. Connoisseur of red wine, and a lover of a good IPA.
Believer in that forever kind of love.
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Love Won Preview
Miss McCoy and Eastlyn’s book?
Read the first two chapters here!
SYNOPSIS
McCoy Graves: Public Enemy Number One. The crusher of childhood fairy tales.
McCoy Graves is arrogant. A jerk.
McCoy Graves is my brother’s best friend…and my new boss.
Oh, and did I mention, he’s also the love of my life?
’Cause, yeah, there’s that, too.
My name is Eastlyn Hatfield, and this is a story about our feud.
1
Who the Hell Are “They”, Anyway?
They say, “Everything happens for a reason.”
I call balls.
I say “They” are full of shit.
Sure, I agree that some things happen for a reason, but there are clearly events not even They can justify the reasons for.
Case in point: McCoy Graves.
Why did I have to meet the one person who didn’t want me, like I wanted him, when we were kids? What was the point in that? Why would the universe bother presenting me with such a perfect boy—who so easily stole my breath and made my heart skip with an erratic beat reserved solely for him whenever our eyes would catch—if, in the long run, I wasn’t going to get to keep him?
The first time I met McCoy, I thought he noticed me in the same way I’d noticed him:
Immediately.
Instinctively.
Hypnotically.
Life-alteringly.
It was a pulse-pounding, heart-slamming-against-my-chest sensation. A feeling that gave a kick start to the crotch of my prepubescent self. A reaction which called my inner woman into action and pushed my outer tomboy aside, making me wonder: “Oh, what do we have here?” Making me realize for the first time in my twelve-and-a-half years of life that boys existed. And I might even like them.
Well, I might have, until this one opened his mouth.
He was a jerk from the beginning but, despite his jerkiness, my heart simply ignored the notifications that my brain tried to send time and time again.
We all have that one boy we never really get over, even if we never actually got under him—McCoy was mine.
I’d love to know what They would say if I were to ask Them why McCoy Graves was always what I envisioned as my fairytale ending. Because to me, he was the Ross to my Rachel, even though to him I was—and always would be—just little Eastlyn Hatfield, his best friend’s sister.
Apparently, I was fucked, no matter what They had to say about it.
2
Cleanup in Aisle One!
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
Four and go, go, go!
I silently cheer myself on as I haul ass across one aisle, then the next, and the next, trying my hardest to go unnoticed.
To the average consumer, I’m sure I look like some sort of escapee right now: sweating, breathing heavily, my long dark hair fanning across my face like a shield, my green eyes open wide on high alert, my curvy frame camouflaged by the rattiest grey yoga capris, old flip-flops, and an oversized Gnarls Barkley T-shirt. Going unnoticed is going to be a huge feat, considering I shop in Weller’s, the world’s smallest grocery store. However, I admit that my severe addiction to the culinary genius of the Açaí Bowl is driving me to continue my quest regardless of the consequences. My current predicament will be worth all this effort, if only I can make it to the cashier unscathed.
Damn you, frozen açaí berries, making me hunt your ass down every week. Who could have guessed the whole world was going to go so crazy for you? All that frozen, mixed-up, grape-like goodness topped with other fresh fruits, granola, and vanilla yogurt…gah, it’s bliss in a bowl, its natural caffeine-like stimulants jump-starting my day. In the defence of açaí, I don’t think there are too many who, like me, tried it and weren’t immediately hooked like fish on a line. So heed my warning: try it with caution! I have been addicted to açaí bowls since I read an article in Vogue about their superpowers. Or is it simply a superfood? Either way, I can use a little of both in the morning.
At twenty-six, I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be at this point in my life. I always thought I’d be married by now, with the proverbial white picket fence and 2.5 kids, along with a tiny dog named Hoya resting on my lap. Not still single, living on my own, and having weekly dinners with my parents, who subject my poor unused uterus to the “we want grandchildren” spiel they love giving my brother and me.
But back to my current predicament. Having my fellow consumers stare at me like I’m unstable is fine by me, since I’ve now successfully retrieved a pack of frozen açaí berries from the frozen section. But they have no idea how important it is that he not see me.
These gawking shoppers—like the tiny grey-haired lady giving me the evil eye from the meat counter, and the teenage boy giving me the once-over while pretending to scoop pretzels from a bulk bin into a plastic bag—need to stop staring at me so hard, or they’ll give away my position and he’ll see me. I take a deep breath and try to fade into a wall of cereal, doing what I need to do. To hell with any of the possible consequences: shelves falling on top of me and knocking over said grey-haired lady (who is now blocking my escape route and moving way too slowly), or tripping over someone’s shopping cart which could lead to possible mutilation.
But, Açaí Bowls…
“It’s worth the risk,” I whisper softly, taking one last look over my shoulder before bee-lining it to the next aisle.
Made it.
“Phew. Score one for the good guys,” I mutter, as I give a little victory fist pump. I lean around the end of Aisle 4. I’m careful with my footing; the last thing I need is to trip into the large tower of Cheerios (which are on sale for a pretty good price, I note) which have been carefully stacked there. Shaking my head out of sale mode, I forget the cereal and take another deep breath before rising on my tiptoes. I crane my neck so I can peer around the aisle’s corner, trying to look casual, scoping out the way I’d just come, looking back into the produce section.
Shit.
The target is still visible.
Shit.
Shit!
Abort mission! Abort!
“I have to get out of here, and now. You can do this, East,” I tell myself. I decide that my açaí must sadly become a casualty of war, and place the small plastic bag of frozen berries on a shelf next to the instant coffee. There’s no way I could make it three more aisles to the checkouts and still have time to stop and pay without detection, and shoplifting was never a part of this mission. “I hope the stockboy saves you in time, little buddies,” I whisper, hoping the bag will find its way back to the freezer section before it thaws.
Leaning back as far as I can, I count again, readying myself.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
“Four…and go!” I hiss.
And I make it into Aisle 3!
I allow myself a quick smile before peeking around the nose of the aisle, bracing myself against a refrigeration unit bunker which holds a variety of frozen meals (also on sale, I notice). Damn, I should’ve put the açaí berries here, so they wouldn’t suffer. I shake my head again, realizing I’m being utterly ridiculous about a goddamn breakfast food. Eastlyn, focus! “Almost to safety,” I whisper.
First Love (Winning at Love Book 2) Page 28
