How Does a Moment Last Forever?

by Jenna Michaelson

  How Does a Moment Last Forever?

  Jenna Michaelson

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  My Last Words

  Related to the Author’s work

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018 by Jenna Michaelson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Happy Ever After Publishing/Junction Publishing

  United Kingdom/New Zealand

  How Does a Moment Last Forever

  junctionpublishing@outlook.com

  www.junction-publishing.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Ordering Information: Quantity sales. Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the “Special Sales Department” at the address above.

  HDAMLF/Jenna Michaelson -- 1st Ed.

  Foreword

  It was once said I loved to watch, and you’d be right to believe that.

  Things have changed, and now, I love to watch and play.

  You probably know all about me, but if you don’t, come closer, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.

  My name is Jenna and I’m married to Zane Michaelson, and this is my side of the story.

  You already know the how’s, whys and when’s, but once upon a time, I was terrified I’d lost my husband to an old flame he met in University.

  Thankfully, my marriage is intact and we’re happier and stronger than ever, but for that unbearable moment in time, I envisioned my future as a divorced mother of two.

  Fate had other ideas.

  I learnt a lot about myself in that time – some things that shocked me to my very core, but some I embraced, then, and to this very day.

  For those wondering what you’re about to read; you asked for my side and what happened next, and it’d be rude of me not to respond.

  But, before I continue, I need to tell you, my husband doesn’t support the release of this book, and if truth be told, he would rather I abandon telling this part of our lives, but as I love to remind him, his fan friends know most of what happened anyway, so why not tell them where we are now, and how we got here.

  Zane forgets that I’m nosey by nature and even before I had my own social media accounts, nothing escaped my attention.

  I browsed all the comments, read the reviews, emails, good and bad, the banter between my husband and all his readers, everything. I devoured it all. It made me happy to see the interaction from author to readers who later became friends with him. The kindness shown to Zane touched my heart because I was fearful as to how he would be perceived. I didn’t know if people would relate to him, or condemn him, and we discussed it at length many times before the release of the first book.

  “Water off a duck’s back,” he often said.

  I would roll my eyes as he quietly prepared to strengthen his armour. He thinks I didn’t know the depth of his worry, but his resolve never once faltered despite the pressure I knew he was under.

  Forget Man of Steel. Zane had balls of steel and the reviews cemented that opinion in my mind.

  Praise was heaped on him for his bravery in writing the book, his candour and for not painting himself as a more likeable person. He was brutally honest in the depiction of himself, but I feel I have to tell you, that was only one side of my husband and not the man I fell in love with. He really is a good man.

  I had my own thoughts on the release. Crazy - definitely. Admirable - totally.

  Zane was lucky in that he found an amazing team pretty much straight away.

  Gloria slipped easily into the role as his PA and has done a sterling job ever since. Carol and Susan were the backbone of the team, spreading his name far and wide. Kristina is a new addition and has fitted in amazingly well. To this day he is eternally grateful for everything his team have done for him. As am I for everything they have done for both of us.

  Time goes by in the blink of an eye, and the events that led to where we are now seem like a lifetime ago, but in reality, they’re not, and whilst some things were laid to rest in our minds, others are still there waiting for us to process and file away.

  One of the things still prominent in both of our minds is, of course, Chad. We still miss him and there is an Adonis shaped hole in our lives that can never be filled.

  He was irreplaceable, and I wish he were here to tell you his side of the story as I’m positive it would differ from myself and Zane’s. But, it wasn’t meant to be, and had he still been here, you wouldn’t ever have heard of Zane, or Jenna Michaelson. That would have been more than fine with us. We both know what the choice would be if it was ours to make.

  Having Chad alive and well would win every time.

  I think the most questions we have received have been about him, and rightly so. After all, the series was written as a tribute to him.

  A lot of people have asked what happened after Chad died, namely, what happened after the funeral and beyond. If I was a reader, I would’ve been just as curious. I’m nosey, remember.

  Zane told you as much as he could and won’t reveal any more because giving away as much as he did was painful enough, so I’ll tell you what he can’t.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not telling you for any other purpose than to complete the story, because when he said at the end of ‘Till Death us do Part’ there’s no more left to say, he was right, up to a point.

  It was the end of his story, but it wasn’t the end of our story, and upon reading the hundreds of reviews, emails, PM’s etc, I realised how many lives were touched by the series he wrote.

  None of us know what the future holds, but I like to think we’ll get our happily ever after. We’ve certainly had our fair share of heartbreak as a family. We’re due our happy ever after ending.

  It wasn’t easy getting to where we are now. Definitely not an easy road to navigate, but life isn’t a fairytale, so that will come as no surprise.

  It was a painful experience emotionally, and physically draining, but there’s always a journey in life and it got us to where we are, which is all that matters.

  As for now, and for the kinky amongst you all, I apologise for the fact we don’t live the hedonistic lifestyle some of you assumed. We do have our fun, but we don’t invite stranger
s into the marital bed. The fun we have is just about us, no matter who we’re watching, or who might be watching us.

  Window shopping is perfectly acceptable.

  Look, but never touch is our motto of late.

  Reading that little part back, we might sound boring, so I will say… there is a new and added element to the sexual side of our relationship that was born of his affair with Chad. You’ll get to read all about it, I promise.

  Writing for the purpose of allowing the public into my life is new to me. How will I do it? What will I say? Will anybody want to read it? Will I open Goodreads to a slew of criticism or scathing one-star reviews? Quite possibly. But I’m polishing my own armour and biting the bullet regardless of the outcome.

  When I realised Zane was serious about writing our story, I admit there was a part of me that wondered how I was going to convince him not to go through with it. The idea to me was preposterous and unnecessary, but when I thought about his reasons, asking him not to would have been churlish on my part.

  I was assured our anonymity would remain intact. What the hell, I thought. Just close your eyes, take a deep breath and run with it. I knew it would help him air the thoughts and feelings he’d never discuss with me or anybody else.

  My husband is a typical man, and sometimes it feels like a crow bar is required to pry even the slightest titbit of information out of him.

  He is the man, and the man shoulders the burdens and responsibilities. A load of twaddle if you want my take on it. Women fought for equal rights, won them and can cope with anything a man is able to.

  Zane’s reluctance to share his issues drives me crazy as I’m very open with my own thoughts and feelings, as is my whole family, and we share, too much, he will often tell me.

  One such time, I’d shared something personal with a relative, which in my opinion was fine and inconsequential, but in his opinion, was a step too far.

  My husband quietly seethes, like a pan of water coming to boil. There is a flash of annoyance in his eyes and then, depending on which way the wind blows is how he will say what’s on his mind. This particular time, I could see the muscles in his jaw tighten and waited patiently for the cutting remark. He didn’t disappoint.

  “For Christ’s sake, Jen,” he said, his usual deep voice rising a number of octaves. “Next we’ll be sitting naked round a camp fire toasting marshmallows and singing ‘Kum Ba Yah’ like in one of those dopey films you make us watch,” he added, blunt as you like. His face painted a picture of seriousness, but I couldn’t help it and burst out laughing. He didn’t find it amusing in the slightest, which only made me laugh all the more.

  He can reduce me to tears of laughter with sarcasm and wit alone. It’s a gift, but with that same gift he can cut a person in half. His use of words and intellect is one of the reasons I fell in love with him.

  Anyway, some of you might not know, but Zane wrote the first book in just under two days. Impressive stuff but reading the first draft nearly gave me heart failure, and at times I gasped, shocked, horrified and scared by what I was reading, even though I already knew what was coming. It was raw, real and heartbreakingly honest. Reading it unnerved me greatly. I hadn’t expected the words to come alive in the way they did.

  I told him his words were beautiful, alluring, wounding, devastatingly emotional, but it was too much, too raw, too real, and far too honest for public consumption. I worried he would be vilified for his honesty, as was he, but despite his own reservations, he was prepared to face the public’s onslaught just for the sake of putting the story out there.

  I know my husband too well. Tell him he had to take certain parts out, and he would leave them in just to spite me. It’s a childlike stubbornness unbefitting a grown man and father of two girls who idolise him and already show signs of his unbendable will.

  But if I took the other option, the more manipulative track and appealed to the side of him I knew would listen, maybe he would get what I was trying to say.

  The rational, business side of him where he would listen to the pros and cons of the argument and decide from there which was the best tack to take. Well, you know the outcome already.

  She Loves to Watch Me Play was released to the world, with large sections from the original draft removed. Those parts will never be revealed for a plethora of reasons, including our need for privacy, plus some of the things Zane had written were so deeply personal I couldn’t stand the thought of anybody but us knowing about them. I felt, to let the world into every single aspect of our lives at that point was to sensationalise a sequence of events and a tragedy that nearly ripped our family apart, and no way was I going to tolerate that. Certain things had to remain private and I’m glad he finally came to his senses and agreed with me. If Zane hadn’t taken my thoughts and feelings into consideration, I would have wiped his hard drive.

  When he reads this part, his eyes will pop at what could have been, but he knows when I’m deadly serious.

  I have to admit, there were parts of the following books I wasn’t happy with either, especially revealing how and when he was assaulted, but he felt it important for people to see how one’s actions can lead to something so devastating, that while they would learn to live with it, they would never fully recover from it.

  I read the final part in floods of tears, lost in the words he’d written, half forgetting this was our life I was delving into. Initially, the assault scene was written in more graphic detail than what you got to read. I couldn’t face the full extent of it being made public.

  The list of his injuries would shock and wouldn’t have made for pleasant reading. The assault was horrific enough, but the violence was sickening.

  I put my size two feet down and demanded it be rewritten; that whilst it needed to be truthful, it didn’t need to be warts and all, and of course, as he likes to do with anything and everything, he argued the point, trying to bamboozle me out of my, as he put it, hysterical demand, but I was determined -- less was more, especially during that part. I appealed wife to husband. He could see the depth of hurt I carried regarding that part of his life and finally put my wants before his own and the readers devoted to learning how the story concluded.

  In the end, Zane said everything he needed to say, albeit in a more restrained fashion than he’d become accustomed to.

  Saying the above, with any amount of words, it doesn’t matter. Zane has the ability to pull a reader in and I was no exception and felt like I was watching it happen.

  I read a review of ‘Till Death us do Part’ and there was a comment from a lady saying that in her opinion the part dealing with his rape was brushed over too quickly.

  I totally disagree, because to dwell on that part of the book in all its despicable detail would have changed the nature of the series as a whole, and especially the final part where the reasons for him actually writing it were laid bare.

  Zane was adamant the book wasn’t to be a tome for him to procure pity for himself, but once again, for readers to see the damage that lies, secrets and deceit can cause, and of course as a lasting tribute to Chad.

  I think he did himself, and Chad proud, judging by the phenomenal reviews and copious emails received in support for him.

  So, now back to the reason you’re all here.

  Zane has no idea what I’m going to write and whilst this was initially to be my one and only novel, solely written by me, I decided to include Zane’s own written thoughts and feelings as and when he feels like giving them.

  It was only fair.

  If you know anything about him, you know you’ll get brutal honesty, and I’m preparing myself for the mother of all hissy fits.

  Chapter One

  I’m going to start with the time following Chad’s death. Those days played out in slow motion for me. It felt like I was in a weird dreamlike state one moment, constantly on edge the rest of the time. Trying to breathe underwater is a good way to describe how I was feeling.

  I wondered what to say, how to say it,
and what reaction I would get from Zane if I did say what I was feeling.

  I tried to maintain a sense of normality for us as a family. I couldn’t ship the girls to their grandparents’ this time and had to batten down the hatches. There was no other choice. What would I say to anybody who asked why Zane was in the state he was in?

  Keeping people away from the house seemed a mission impossible, but I did it, albeit by the skin of my teeth.

  Yes, family and some friends knew of Chad. The girls talked about ‘Uncle Chad’ constantly so, there was never a time we considered keeping him a secret part of our lives.

  To anybody that asked, we told the truth. He was an old college friend of my husband, and a friend to our family. That’s all they needed to know.

  It was very difficult dealing with the aftermath. People had to be told Chad had died, the girls were told, but they were too young to understand the finality of death. For them, Uncle Chad is sitting on a fluffy cloud high up in the sky, and one day, a long, long time from now, he would swoop down and take them to Heaven with him. That’s the only way I could tell them. Zane is spiritual, not religious, so the fluffy cloud scenario makes him balk, but to ensure his girls’ continued peace of mind, he allowed it to wash over him.

  Zane’s grief was something I’d never dealt with before. It was as plain as the nose on his face and nobody would have believed the depth of his despair was just for a friend.

  People gossiping and assuming wasn’t a risk I was prepared to take, so as I said earlier, we battened down the hatches and huddled together as a family.