Happily Ever After? (Sleeping Handsome Sequel)

by Jean Haus

  He grins. “Well, I can do that.”

  And he does.

  ~~~~~~~

  More books by Jean Haus

  Snow, Blood, and Envy

  Under a Blood Moon

  Sleeping Handsome

  After Midnight

  ~~~~~~~

  Visit Jean Haus for updates at

  Website: jeanhaus.com

  Twitter: http://twitter.com/JeanHaus

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jean-Haus/227196784023975

  And coming this fall In the Band, a YA Mature Contemporary Romance

  Turn the page for a sample of the first two chapters

  Chapter 1

  My finger hovers over the mouse button that will change my life forever. I take a deep breath and will myself to move, but still I hover. Come on. One click and the end will be official. I close my eyes and lower my finger. Somehow, I press the button. Whoosh. My future down the toilet with one email. I lay my forehead on the computer desk and resist the urge to bang my head against the wood.

  The smack of my bedroom door opening brings my back up against the chair.

  “Hey Riley,” Jamie, my little sister says. She’s wearing a baseball cap backwards, a yellow polka-dot bathing suit, and boots. Seeing her eight-year-old sense of fashion helps lessen the sting of the email. Just a little. She bounces into my room. “Chloe’s coming over right?”

  Keeping my face neutral, I nod.

  She flips a lid back and forth of an open box between us. Packed boxes that never went anywhere. “So can I invite Mandy over to swim?”

  Still unable to speak I nod again and I’m rewarded with a bright smile. “Cool.”

  As she bounces away, I will myself not to cry, not to remember hours and hours of drum practice. Not to think of the glorious freedom I just gave up. But I’m giving it up for a good cause. Two good causes actually. And I’ll still go to college. Still have a future. Just not the one I’d planned on.

  With a sigh, I log into the local university and pay for classes—awful choices this late in August—with the bankcard connected to my college fund. I hadn’t wanted to pay for my eleven credits of Philosophy 101, Roman History, or Chemistry Analysis 230—I fear that class is going to be a bitch but I’d tested out of the hundred level—until it was official.

  And now it’s totally official.

  The twist in my future completed I sit staring at the screen saver of my one and only boyfriend I’d lost to college in another state two weeks ago. Dressed in our band uniforms we stand with heads together, sunglasses on, and drums in front of us. We look happy together. Last year. Though I knew the break up was coming, I’m still hurt and wishing I could call him. It doesn’t seem like anyone stays together anymore. I really need to change my screen saver, but my hands stay in my lap.

  “Hey girl, you coming down?” Chloe yells from the bottom of the stairs.

  Melancholy interrupted I shut the lid to my computer and yell back, “Just a second.”

  I find Chloe already on the deck, overlooking the above ground pool. Wearing a halter tank top, wide brimmed hat, and cat like sun glasses, she looks like she belongs in a forties movie. Instead, she sits in the shade of our table umbrella with its Mickey Mouse lights dangling. Her platinum blond hair and curves only add to the look. With my long dark hair, big brown eyes, and stick body, I look like I belong with the lights. Physically, I can’t seem to get past the stage of thirteen. Emotionally, I feel like a thirty year old lately.

  Splashes and giggles sound from the water beyond the deck. The smell of chlorine hangs in the air.

  She nods toward the pool. “I told them I’d watch them until you came down.” She lifts a plastic cup with a straw. “Mocha Frappuccino? Slushy caffeine and chocolate got to help a little.”

  “I’m alright,” I say, grabbing the cup and sitting in the chair closest to the pool under the umbrella with her. Though I haven’t come to terms with what went down today, I don’t want to worry my friends. It’s just something I have to let slowly settle inside. It’s been settling for a while though.

  “Yeah right. Redonkulous.” Chloe takes a drink of her coffee. How she can drink hot liquid on a hot August afternoon is beyond me. “Every drummer is okay when they give up a percussion scholarship.”

  I glance at my sister and her friend bouncing in the water. “Keep it down. I don’t want Jamie thinking I’m upset.”

  “Like they can hear us.” She waves a hand toward the giggling and shouting. “And to think you probably would have made their drumline. How many times have you watched that lame movie?”

  Recalling the hours Marcus and I sat playing to the movie, I snap, “Are you trying to make me feel like shit?”

  She rears back in her chair. It was almost a head snap. I sense more than see her blinking behind the dark glasses. “No. I’m trying to get the mourning over with.”

  I lean back and take a long drag of caffeinated slush while the giggles in the pool turn to squeals. The cup rolls in my hands. “No need. I’ve been thinking about this since May.”

  She jerks her glasses off and smacks them on the table. Eyes heavy with mascara narrow on me. “Riley Jones Middleton, you’ve been keeping secrets from me.”

  “I wanted to figure it out on my own,” I say with a shrug.

  Her fingers drum on the glass. Each ping indicates her annoyance. “Same reasons?”

  I glance at my sister twirling in a floaty ring. Jamie with a sitter almost every day until nine o’clock at night was the biggest reason. There were others though. My mother already on the brink of financial ruin. My father not being able to help as much with dorm fees. My mother’s growing depression. All of these stem from one thing. “Yeah, the divorce.”

  “Divorce sucks.” Chloe takes a long drink of coffee and slides her glasses back on. “What are you going do if that university band lady emails back?”

  “Tell her I’m sorry. What else can I do?”

  “Suppose that’s true.”

  The creak of the gate behind me sounds and then a bam as it hits the wooden fence. Chloe’s lip curl confirms my suspicion. I don’t have to look over my shoulder. “Thought you weren’t going to talk to me?”

  “That would be too awesome,” Chloe says under her breath.

  “So you did it?” Marcus, my other best friend, asks from the bottom of the deck steps.

  I nod. “You could have just texted.”

  Instead of answering, he races up the stairs and envelopes me in a hug. “Aw Riley, I’m pissed you had to do it but I understand.”

  With the Frappuccino smashed between us, I say, “You didn’t have to skip practice to offer your condolences.”

  “Sure I did.” He pulls away and flops down on the nearest chair. “But we were near perfect this morning. Got the afternoon off.” He brushes his unruly blonde mop of curls from his eyes.

  My brows rise. “Really, what kind of band leader have you got?”

  “College band is different. People actually practice.” He glances at Chloe and only offers her a nod. “And I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Chloe lifts her coffee. “You got named tool of the month?”

  I give her a look. I’m not in the mood to listen to her and Marcus trade barbs.

  “Tool of the year actually,” he says snidely and digs in his pocket. “I noticed this on the message board in my dorm the other day.” He unfolds the paper.

  My brows rise. “I’m not moving into the dorm.”

  “Yeah,” Chloe says. “What kind of dork lives in a dorm thirty minutes from their house?”

  “What kind of bimbo goes to cosmetology school?” he says with raised brows then adds, “Oh, ones named Chloe.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’ll remember that next time you want a haircut.”

  “Like you can remember that long.”

  That actually causes a chuckle to escape me. Not because Chloe’s an airhead but because of Marcus’s overly long hair. Feeling a glare from
across the table, I gesture to the paper. “What was so important you came all the way from the dorm?”

  “Well…there’s this band and they need a drummer.”

  My drink almost slips from my hand. “You’re going to join a band? Like a rock band?”

  “From this,” he points to the paper, “they play a variety of stuff, not just rock. But no, I don’t have time for a band. I wish.” He leans forward. “But you could.”

  The splashing and shouting from the pool sounds louder in the sudden silence. Stunned at the idea, I simply stare at Marcus.

  Chloe breaks the silence with a snort. “That’s a wicked idea.”

  I don’t break my stare. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He shakes his head. “Why would I be kidding? You’re the best drummer I know.”

  My face twists into an incredulous expression. “In a marching band.”

  “I’m not kidding,” Chloe says excitedly. She slaps Marcus’s shoulder. “I’ve got to give it to you tool of the year. Your idea is the cat’s ass.”

  Marcus gives her a grin then looks back to me. “Come on, Riley. You’ve been playing my drum set as long as me.”

  The frightening mental image of me on stage in front of rowdy fans has me snapping, “Goofing around.”

  “Your goofing around is ten times better than my totally serious,” he says with a snort.

  They both stare at me with anticipation lined on their faces. I slowly set my drink on the glass table. “If I don’t have time to be in the university band, what makes you think I have time to be in a stage band?” Marcus had begged me to let him talk to his bandleader when he found out I wasn’t going to Virginia, but watching Jamie almost every day wouldn’t allow me the time.

  “That’s the beauty of it.” Marcus taps the paper. “They only practice three times a week and do two or three gigs a month. They’re all in school just like us.”

  “He’s right. It’s perfect,” Chloe says. “You’ll still get to play, not much time away from your mommy duties, and it actually might be cool. Hot guys could even be involved.”

  Marcus scowls at her before they both return their gazes to me.

  I push my chair away from the table and wrap my arms around my knees. “You two have fallen off the deep end. I do not belong in a band. I don’t even look like I’m out of high school.”

  “Four hours.” Chloe’s red nails shine as she spreads four fingers out. “Okay, maybe five hours,” she adds her thumb, “some dye, some makeup, and some clothes and I’ll have you looking like a rock star.”

  Chloe, me, and all of those things together in a room for five hours has me shaking my head. And me in a band? Um no, just thinking about it freaks me out.

  Marcus leans forward scrunching his got milk? T-shirt and rests his elbows on his knees. “Listen, they’re playing tonight. We could check them out. If you like their style, tryouts are next week. You can think it over. Have some time to practice.”

  A light shines out of their tunnel of craziness. “Can’t tonight. My mom’s got a late night at work. Inventory.”

  “Weak try,” Chloe says. “I can watch Jamie. I could watch her during your practice sessions too.”

  My eyes narrow on her as I resist throwing the rest of my slushy all over her perfectly primped form. She’s trying to help. Wants to help after I helped her with her breakup with Neil, but this is going beyond help.

  “Come on,” Marcus says in a pleading tone. “You need to get out. This will be fun.”

  I look between them as they both shake their heads yes. I’d like to smack those heads together. Tightening my arms around my knees, I watch the girls kick a raft across the length of the pool before returning to the waiting stares of my friends. Peer pressure is a bitch. “If I go and I don’t like the band, you’ll both let this go?”

  “Scouts honor,” Chloe says and salutes me with a hand across her chest.

  Irritation wrinkles Marcus’s brow. “Scouts don’t salute like that.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  “Marcus?” I press.

  “Yeah sure.” He shrugs. “If you don’t like the band, then I’ll drop it. But I can’t see you happy unless you’re playing.”

  Relieved they’ve both given me their word because regardless of my true feelings, I won’t be liking the band. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  Marcus grins. “They don’t go on until ten, but I thought we could hit the skate park since we’re going downtown.”

  “Oh, reliving our youth are we?” Chloe says. “Maybe you should ask the babysitter?”

  I shake my head. “Marcus, I haven’t been on a board in almost two years, and Chloe’s right. It would be beyond rude to leave her here with Jamie while we went out.”

  He puts his hands up but Chloe waves a wrist. “I’m just being a bitch. He’s right. You need to get out of this house. Let me play mommy for a bit. Hell knows it ain’t going happen until after thirty-five anyway. If then.”

  Marcus’s stoked expression has me internally groaning. I’m not even sure where my board is. “Fine we’ll go to the skate park, but you’re buying dinner.” Maybe I’ll break an arm and this ridiculousness will be null.

  He grins. “Hot dog stand here we come.”

  “I’ll put the lasagna in the oven and set the timer,” I say to Chloe.

  She smiles wolfishly. “That’s why I’m here. Your cooking is the one good thing about your new mommy status.”

  Ignoring her, I stand and tell Marcus, “Just let me find my board and I’ll walk over to your house.”

  “You’re not changing?” Chloe asks.

  I glance down at my yellow tank top and loose khaki shorts. “Yeah, I should probably put on capris. I’ll wipe out at least once.”

  “Riley,” Chloe whines. “You’re going to a concert. Guys will be there. Hot older guys.”

  I give her a look. “I’m taking a break from guys. And hot older guys sound out of my league.”

  Her look is icier than mine. “Aaron is so not worth this.”

  Marcus clears his throat.

  “Go home. I’ll be there in five,” I say to him and move toward the house while Chloe mutters in the background. It might be more like fifteen minutes by the time I get to the bottom of my closet. If my board is there. Sliding the glass door open, I’m actually excited to go boarding and even to a concert. But I am so not trying out for the band.

  Chapter 2

  I haven’t eaten like that in months. I tend to pick at food lately. After two chilly dogs and half a cheese fry, my stomach feels like it’s going to burst while my legs and arms feel like rubber from two hours of boarding. Yet I didn’t do too bad after two years off the thing. Not great but not too shabby either. From about fourth grade to tenth, besides drumming, skateboarding was my life. Though boys had been on my radar since about eighth grade, one boy in particular caught my eye the end of sophomore year. Aaron. It took a year for me to come out of my tomboy stage—Chloe thinks I’m still partially in it—and three weeks into senior year for him to finally ask me out, but he did. And now we’re no more.

  And now I’m back on a skateboard.

  Maybe Chloe’s partially right. I’m just regressing back to a tomboy. In fact, I don’t think I’ve touched my makeup bag since Aaron and I broke up. I haven’t given two shits about what I looked like for most of the summer. Now standing against the balcony banister waiting for the band to start and surrounded by girls dressed like hoochies, I’m wishing I listened to Chloe just a bit. I feel extremely unattractive in an old pair of capris and a tank top.

  The old movie theater we’re in is packed wall to wall. Both the lower level and the balcony. A mummer of conversation surrounds us and floats up to us while music plays from speakers above. The packed crowd has me realizing the band is more popular than Marcus led me to believe. He’d been trying to sell me on the fact that they’re just a college band. This crowd implies more than just a college band.

  “
So tell me something Riley,” Marcus says, pulling his gaze from the cleavage of the girl next to him. “Did your mom even try to talk you out of letting the scholarship go?”

  My eyes narrow before I look away at the crowd underneath us. “Are you implying my mother’s selfish? You know she’s going through a rough time right now.”

  “I love Mags,” he says with a grin. My mother’s name is Maggie. He’s called her Mags since sixth grade. At least behind her back. He bumps me with his shoulder. “You know that. I’m just curious.”

  I grip the scarred wood under my palms harder. “She asked several times if I was sure I wanted to stay home.” I’m not about to share the relieved look she wore while asking.

  “And your dad?”

  I shrug. “He’s a bit busy with his new girlfriend.”

  “Why did your parents have to go and get divorced? You know Chloe and me were going to tolerate each other and take a road trip to see you perform in the drumline?”

  My stomach starts to hurt. I wish everyone would quit bringing up the damn drumline. “We’ll come watch you.”

  “The Hawks don’t have a drumline. Shit, Riley we’re barely a Division II university.”

  “Well that sucks.”

  “And you had a free ride to a Division I. In a warm state.”

  Cheese coagulates in my stomach. “Just tuition and books. The dorm was only partial.”

  “Still,” he says.

  “It’s a done deal okay?” I step back, well as much as I can with the people behind us, while fighting building tears. “I’ll be right back. Going to hit the bathroom.”

  “You’re going have a bitch of a time getting back through.”

  I just shake my head and squeeze between people. I keep it together all the way down the stairs. Ignoring the bathrooms, I head out the side door into the smoker’s area. Fenced off between buildings and once an alley the space is dark. String lights line the ground along the bottom of each wall. Obviously, you don’t need light to smoke just to walk. I pass smokers huddled together conversing among their smelly haze. In the back, where it’s the darkest, I lean my head against the rough brick and let the tears flow while my stomach rolls.