Fortuity: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Transcend Series Book 3)

by Jewel E. Ann

  “What time is your flight?” Mr. Hans asks when I close the door.

  “Four hours. I’d better finish packing.” I grin.

  “That looks nice on you.”

  I stop halfway up the stairs. “What does?”

  “Excitement. I haven’t seen that in your eyes in many months.”

  “I need this trip. It feels good.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  The wedding scene is nothing new to me. By forty-two, I’ve been to countless weddings. I’d say “always a bridesmaid,” but that’s not true. I’ve worn the big white gown once. Overrated?

  Sadly … no.

  It was the most exhilarating, special day of my life—until it wasn’t.

  One day.

  For one day I felt like a princess. I had no idea feeling like a princess was a secret desire of mine until I had my hair and makeup done, legs shaved, girl parts waxed, manicure, pedicure, and a big white dress fitted perfectly to my body.

  Veil.

  The pendant from Michael.

  A church full of family and friends looking on adoringly. A man waiting at the front of the church with so much love in his eyes, like he had never seen anything so beautiful.

  It was a dream.

  Surreal.

  The wedding is tomorrow in Grant Park. The reception is at the hotel where I’m staying. Today … I’m shopping for a new dress to wear. Nothing flashy. It’s Danni’s and Aaron’s day. I just want to find something that makes me feel like I’m twenty-five with endless possibilities, not forty-two with seven more years before I file for official cat lady status.

  After checking into my hotel, I scour The Magnificent Mile, popping in and out of boutiques, waiting for something to catch my eye. Finally, a blushing pink off-the-shoulder, tea-length chiffon lace dress jumps out at me.

  I try it on. It not only fits, it makes me feel a little more beautiful, which says a lot since I’m without makeup and my now longer hair is pulled into a high ponytail. I brush my fingertips over the beaded sequin bodice and sweetheart neckline. I pair it with three-inch silver caged heels, a mani-pedi, and an iced coffee as I stroll through the bustling streets back to my hotel.

  After dropping off my dress and shoes at my room, I go down to one of the hotel’s three bars and order a glass of red wine.

  “Let me get that. And I’ll have a whisky neat.”

  I glance over at the familiar face taking a seat on the barstool next to me. I point my finger at him and grin.

  “Steve.”

  “Steve!” I slap my hand on the bar. “It was on the tip of my tongue.”

  Dark-haired, dimply smiled Steve eases his tall body onto the stool next to me. “Well, it’s only been twenty-four years.”

  I laugh. “True. Marks … Steve Marks.”

  “Aw … you do remember.”

  “Some days I remember better than other days.” I take a sip of my wine as soon as the bartender finishes pouring it.

  “Danni’s and Aaron’s wedding?”

  “Yes. I married Danni’s younger sister. We’re divorced now, but we remained friends. Our daughter, Kelsey, is the flower girl, so I got a pity invite to watch her walk down the aisle and throw petals.”

  “That’s …”

  “Weird?”

  “No.” I grin. “Refreshing. Most divorces don’t end so well.”

  “How about you? Are you married? I don’t recall seeing you at any of the class reunions.”

  “I went to the first one. Me and three other people. So I passed on all the other ones.”

  “Makes sense now. I missed the first one but made it to the others. So … are you married?”

  Swallowing. I shake my head. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to dodge that question. No. Not married.”

  “Children?”

  I start to shake my head but stop myself. “Yes. A boy. He’s eleven.”

  “Is he with his dad?”

  I drum my French manicured nails on the bar and stare at them. “No. It’s complicated.”

  “Sorry. Not prying. Just making conversation.”

  “It’s fine.” I glance up and smile.

  Steve was the popular kid in school, who didn’t realize that all the girls liked him. He played and excelled at every sport.

  “Do you live in Chicago?”

  “Nah … I’m still in Montana. You?”

  “San Diego.”

  “Nice. What do you do there?”

  Why is that always the follow-up question?

  I shrug and grin just before taking another sip of wine. “I live there.”

  He chuckles. “Fair enough. What should we talk about next?”

  For the next hour we talk about high school, since that’s all that’s left. He never brings up Brandon’s name. I’m not sure if he doesn’t remember I dated him or if he just doesn’t remember him at all. That’s fine. It’s more than fine.

  We drink way too much, but it’s a Friday night. What else do we have to do?

  He nods to the waiter and points to my empty glass.

  “No!” I pin his hand to the counter. “Three glasses is two glasses past my limit. I can’t even see straight.”

  Numb.

  Sleepy.

  Carefree.

  It’s a fantastic feeling.

  “I’d better get to my room before I don’t remember where it’s at.”

  “Sounds responsible.” He grabs my elbow to steady me as I attempt to stand.

  “Whoa …” I give my legs a few seconds to get the memo that we’re moving now.

  He pushes the button when we get to the elevators. Then he rests his hand on my lower back to keep me steady. “What floor?” he asks when the doors open.

  “Twenty-seven.” I shake my head as we step into the elevator. “No. Twenty-nine. No, twenty-seven. No. Twenty-nine. Definitely twenty-nine.”

  Steve chuckles. “We can try both. I’m on thirty.”

  We turn just as the doors start to shut. Just as they jerk to a stop and open again as a few more people crowd onto it. I look down at my feet, shuffling them until my back hits Steve’s chest. His hand goes to my hips, which isn’t necessary, but it’s crowded, and I’m a little unstable. So I don’t say anything. When I glance up, the man in front of me makes a quick glance back and even more quickly does a double take.

  Nate.

  He tries to angle his body to face mine, but he stops. My heavy gaze follows the path of his, and he’s looking at Steve’s hands on my hips.

  Just as my thick tongue starts to say something, the elevator doors open, and Nate shoulders his way out. Not a single glance at me.

  “Wait!” I don’t even recognize the sound that comes out of my mouth. It’s something so desperate that it cuts past my throat like a jagged piece of metal. With no manners, no excuse-me’s or I’m-sorry’s, I shove everyone out of my way and throw my arm between the doors to stop them, my body following close behind.

  “Gracelyn?” Steve calls just before the doors completely shut.

  I turn left then spin right. Where did he go?

  I run to one hallway and look right and left. No Nate. My clumsy feet take me to the other hallway in a zigzag motion. I look right then left.

  There.

  “Nate!”

  He keeps walking down the impossibly long hallway. It’s like … a mile long.

  “Stop … please …” I say feeling dizzy as I use the wall to help me down the hallway.

  He turns right and swipes his card.

  “You’re here … Why are you here?” My mouth goes rogue since my brain exploded on the elevator.

  As soon as I reach him, the door opens, and he steps inside.

  “Stop!” I lunge for the door before it closes.

  I hate this. I feel like someone drugged me, but I know I did this to myself. In my defense, I was just having a fun conversation over drinks with an old classmate. Not once did my thoughts go to Nate. And they most certainly would not have told me to stay sober i
n case I ran into him in the elevator … in a hotel in Chicago.

  The chances are not one in a million. They are one in a trillion.

  “Can we talk?”

  With his back to me, he sighs. “Speak.”

  He’s angry.

  Fucking alcohol.

  If I weren’t intoxicated, I’d have all the right words. Lord knows I’ve recited them a million times on the off chance that I’d ever come face-to-face with him in this life.

  “I’ve had too much to drink. I’m … I’m afraid I won’t say it right.”

  He turns.

  How can I be numb yet feel everything? It makes no sense.

  “Ten,” he says. “Six months ago, you sent me a note with ten words and a G—like you were fading away one word at a time.” He tips his chin up and rolls his eyes to the ceiling as he draws in a slow breath. “I gave you ninety-seven thousand, four hundred and eighty-two words. And you replied with ten. And then … nothing. Did you read my last letter?”

  I shake my head.

  “Why?” he asks with an edge to his voice.

  “I let go,” I whisper, leaning my back against the door to hold it open, letting my tired eyes stare at the ugly multi-colored swirl carpet.

  “You gave up.”

  “On what?” My voice booms, and I flinch because my head is so damn dizzy. I force my gaze to stick to his. “On what?” I say in a softer, defeated tone. “Eight years?” My voice cracks. “You wanted me to what? Write you letters for eight years? Call you to tell you how fucking wonderful it was to not know if I’d ever see you again? Text you photos of my tears? Stalk Morgan on social media in hopes of catching small glimpses of you? Suffocate on my heart in my throat every time I hear Morgan and Gabe on FaceTime because hearing your voice just …” I pull the neck of my T-shirt up and wipe my eyes. “It h-hurts.” Releasing my T-shirt, I rub my aching temples. Turning my head away from him, I roll my quivering lips together as more emotions blur my vision. “Missing you … it hurts too much.” I grab the doorframe to steady myself. Then I force one foot in front of the other, making my way toward the elevators with a little more coordination.

  I never wanted this. Blame. Why does it have to be anyone’s fault? He did the right thing for the right reason. I did the right thing for the right reason. Our reasons are just two thousand miles apart.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Nathaniel

  I have conferences at the hotel. After the university gave me the position, I knew I’d have a lot to do to be ready for fall classes. Of all the conferences … of all the hotels … how does she end up here?

  Why was she drunk in an elevator with another man’s hands on her?

  The rest? I know.

  I know why she didn’t respond, why she let us go. I felt the same pain. I still do. I feel the impossibility of it all. Sometimes, you just want the impossible.

  It takes everything I have in me to not chase her. Fuck the “hot” guy next door. Fuck the guy in the elevator with his hands on her. My hands shake as I fist them. They want to touch her so badly.

  As I relax them, I remind myself that I have nothing new to offer her. So what if I catch her?

  So what if I make up for nearly a year of not getting to touch her. Then what?

  More letters?

  Total disruption of two kids who have roots, friends, and lives they’re navigating with one parent? Who makes the sacrifice? The boy who lost both of his parents? Or the girl who kissed her mother’s gravestone, three blocks from our house, and whispered, “I’m home, Mom.”

  I could have called.

  I could have texted.

  When you have nothing to offer … it’s best to just let go.

  The next day I make it to the conference downstairs early so I don’t miss out on the coffee and bagels. Yesterday, I made the mistake of assuming there would be enough to go around. Wrong.

  When we break at eleven thirty for a ninety-minute lunch, I head back to my room to call Morgan and my parents. She’s staying with them while I’m here.

  The elevator doors open, and fate lands a hard punch in my gut. All reason and common sense that took place last night, during the little pep talk with myself, vanishes.

  Poof!

  Gracelyn looks up at me through thick mascara-covered eyelashes. Sexy as fuck red lips, glossed to perfection, rub together. My gaze can’t decide where to stay.

  Long, auburn hair curled in flawless waves.

  Dangly diamond drop earrings.

  A pink flowing dress that exposes all of her shoulders.

  Gray heels that are just …

  Fuck me …

  I step on to the elevator. She gives me a shy smile and tries to move past me. I don’t let her pass.

  “Um …”

  The doors close behind us.

  “I need to get off.” A nervous laugh escapes her as she nods toward the door.

  I press the button to my floor before taking a step closer. She retreats, her hands grabbing the rail to steady her. Her gaze falls to my lanyard. “Conference?” she asks before swallowing hard.

  “You’re making it really hard to pretend you’re not here.”

  Whisky eyes flit up to meet mine. “I need to get off. I have a wedding to attend.”

  I bend down bringing my lips a breath away from the skin along her neck. Without touching her, I make an invisible path from her shoulder to her ear with my lips.

  She gasps and holds that breath.

  “In case you were too drunk last night,” I whisper. “I’m in room 923. And I’d be happy to help you get off later.” The elevator stops on my floor.

  Her lips part, and she blinks slowly at me as I stand straight and exit the elevator. I have no clue what my plan is or if she’ll find me later. My forty-seven-year-old brain should have the maturity, education, and life experience to think of something logical and brilliant. In the meantime, my dick is thinking of how badly it wanted to fuck her right there in the elevator.

  “You’re a total bastard,” I whisper to myself as I walk down the long hallway with a slight grin on my face.

  When I get in my room, I bring up Morgan’s name to video chat.

  “Hey, Dad. Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “Gabe just messaged me. He said Gracelyn is in Chicago for a wedding. You should call her.”

  “I don’t have her number.”

  “I’ll send it to you.”

  I grin. All this time … and I’ve never asked for her number and she’s never asked for mine. It’s insane. Probably as insane as me thinking my daughter would grow up without the influence of cellphones and social media.

  We could have talked every day, but I think we both knew that wouldn’t make things better. It’s why she said that night in her bathroom was the last time. She knew we needed to distance ourselves because every touch only made it harder.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Fine. Are you going to call her? I’m going to message her and give her your number too.”

  “You do that.” I grin. “How are Grandma and Grandpa?”

  “Fine. Can you get me cell service when you get home? Grandma said it might be a smart idea … for emergencies.”

  “How’s Joby?”

  “Daaad!”

  “Listen. I just called to check in. I need to grab lunch before the afternoon session starts.”

  “Ugh! Fine. But call Gracelyn. Take her to dinner. She’s there for a full week.”

  “Take her to dinner, huh? Why? She lives in San Diego. I can’t actually date her.”

  “But she loves you. And someday you will be together. I just know it.”

  “Are you going to leave your new house, your grandparents, your friends, and move to San Diego with me?”

  “I don’t want to move. I’m going to tell Gabe he needs to move here. He would love it here! I think …”

  “And why would he leave his friends if you don’t want to leave yours?”

  �
��Because it’s California and there are earthquakes and wildfires. Hello!”

  “I love you, smarty pants. I’m going to eat now. Tell Grandma and Grandpa hi.”

  “Love you too. Call me tomorrow. Okay?” She blows me a kiss.

  I catch it and blow one back.

  *

  The afternoon session drags on forever. I go out to dinner with a couple of colleagues. Then we grab beers at the sports bar in the hotel and watch the baseball game. Around nine, my phone vibrates with a text. I don’t recognize the number. I open the screen to read it.

  Who’s the guy on your right? He’s kinda cute.

  I glance up, over my right shoulder, then my left shoulder before replying.

  He’s married.

  “I’m going to call it a night. Thanks for the company. See you guys in the morning.” I stand.

  My phone vibrates again.

  What about the guy on your left?

  I grin, weaving my way through the crowd and out to the lobby.

  Long auburn hair and the backside of a pink dress get onto an elevator. I take off running, but the doors close too soon. I push the up button a dozen times.

  What’s your room number?

  It’s unlikely she gets my text in the elevator. So I wait. My phone screen lights up just as another elevator’s doors opens.

  923

  I grin, pressing the button for the ninth floor. 923 is my room. When I turn down the hallway, all I can see are two gray heeled shoes and legs. She’s leaning against my door. As I get closer, bringing her whole body into view, she lifts a small bouquet to her nose.

  “Guess who caught the bouquet?” She grins behind the flowers.

  I slide my room key out of my pocket. “Three hundred and thirty-three.”

  She narrows her eyes a little.

  I scan the keycard and push down on the door handle, bending close to her face. Her gaze goes straight to my lips. I pause for a few seconds to absorb the warmth of her body, memorize the rise and fall of her chest as her breaths deepen … for me. I do this to her. She, on the other hand, has no fucking clue what she does to me, but she’s about to be enlightened.