She walks in front of the wagon with Gage as he regales her with stories of his day at school, and I follow closely behind the wagon. I’m more than happy to follow behind them and would like to send a personal thank you note to the inventor of running shorts. Just an inch more and I’d be rewarded with the under curve of that beautiful ass. God bless America … and running shorts, of course.
I happily take the back seat to Sara and let the kids get comfortable playing and visiting with her as we make our way to the duck pond. That’s what today’s all about. It’s the first step in Operation: Accept Sara as My Girlfriend. Well, that’s what Sara thinks, at least. In my mind, I’ve taken it a step further. As far as I’m concerned, today is the first step in Operation: Get Sara in My Bed Every Night. It’s good to have lofty goals, and I plan on going for broke. When it comes to Sara, I’ll go for broke every fucking time.
I’m so relieved she confided in me this morning. I know my opinion matters to her, but the truth is I don’t give a shit what happened with Mason. I know my girl.
The other night at The Courtyard, I listened to her ex-boyfriend’s wife rip that bitchy girl, Melody, a new one for messing with Sara. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen. Ex-girlfriends are usually hated on principle—but not my girl. What she doesn’t know is, Mason laid into Melody, too. Sara and Natalie had already walked away, so she missed it. According to Mason, they work together at the hospital, so I can only imagine how uncomfortable that’s been for Sara.
Yeah, Mason and I talked for a while that night, and I have to admit he’s a pretty cool guy. I can see he cares a lot for Sara, and he’s also forgiven her for what transpired between them. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened because he didn’t want to break Sara’s trust, but he made it clear that, in hindsight, things went down the way they were supposed to. He’s actually grateful to Sara for seeing what he couldn’t.
Lily, Gage, and Sara have a blast feeding the ducks, and my services aren’t required until the geese start getting frisky. I scoop Lily and Gage up under my arms, and Sara and I make our getaway. Wings are flapping, feathers are flying, and we narrowly miss our demise at the hand of psycho farm animals. As we reach the playground, I can still hear them honking. Sara lays out the blanket that I stored in the wagon, and I drop the kids in the middle while they belly laugh—the best sound in the world.
We get comfortable on our blanket, and I watch for Lily and Gage’s reaction when I touch Sara affectionately. Nothing overt—a thigh squeeze, an arm pat, a ponytail tug. No response … no odd looks.
Just as I’m ready to declare this outing a moderate success in reaching our end goal, Gage pulls on my sleeve to get my attention.
“Dad, can Miss Sara please eat dinner at our house? I didn’t get to show her my dinosaur collection last time she came over.” I hear Lily start to cheer in agreement.
I look over Gage’s head and meet Sara’s gaze and smile. “Sure, bud, that’s a great idea. Do you think Miss Sara will like cows in the pond?”
“Everybody likes cows in the pond!” Lily exclaims excitedly.
Moderate success, my ass. With Sara spending the morning in my bed, and Lily and Gage playing nice this afternoon, I’d say today has been a resounding win.
“Ice Cream” by Sarah McLachlan
Three Months Later …
“OH, NO YOU don’t, Sara. No more desserts,” Adam says, taking the sugar and chocolate chips out of my hands to return them to the pantry. “Not even our gluttonous friends could possibly eat all this food. Is it possible, I don’t know, that maybe you’re going a bit overboard, sweetheart?”
I stomp my foot and expel a huff. “I just want everything to be perfect. You know Cain eats the equivalent of five normal adults, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that we could run out of food. And then what, huh?”
“Then we’ll go buy some fried chicken and let the big doofus eat right out of the bucket. No harm, no foul. And no silly obsession with everything being perfect, okay?” Adam gently squeezes my neck as he rests his forehead against mine, smiling lovingly.
“Hey, who you calling a doofus, jackass?” Cain’s voice booms with a hint of amusement. “He is right, though. Any party foul can be righted with a bucket of yard bird.”
“Uncle Cain!” Gage and Lily yell in unison as they attempt, rather unsuccessfully, to wrestle Cain into submission. Being the good sport that he is, Cain finally relents and tumbles to the ground.
Adam and I are hosting the family dinner tonight at his house, and the preparation has left me a bit frazzled. He volunteered to grill steaks if I fixed the sides, and I gladly took him up on his offer. In my infinite wisdom, I waved off everyone’s offers to bring dishes and chose to go solo on this one. I don’t know who’s suffering more from that decision, Adam or me.
Adam and I laugh as we watch Lily and Gage clobber the large heap on the ground that is Cain. All the while, Adam’s fingers gently caress my left side under my breast, as if he can read the words without actually seeing them. He’s touched, kissed, and licked that spot so often, he probably can. The most intimate form of affection is familiarity, and Adam is all too familiar. I’ll never forget the look on his face the first time he saw my tattoo.
“You know the rules. No peeking,” I taunt as Adam growls in frustration.
“Yeah, I instated that rule for a mock drawing of a tattoo that would only take about ten minutes. But Jimmy has been ogling my girl’s body for about forty-five minutes now, and I can’t do a fucking thing about it. You had better not be enjoying this, man.”
“No enjoyment, man, I swear. You know Jenna would have my balls. Although, I must admit, I’m enjoying your discomfort immensely,” Jimmy jokes as he continues working. Jimmy has done all of Adam’s ink, and he’s the only person he would trust for my tattoo.
“Okay, all done, Sara. Let me just put some ointment—”
Before Jimmy finishes his sentence, Adam rips the ointment out of his hand. “I got this part, man. That’s quite enough fondling for one day.”
Adam squirts the cream on his fingers and gently swipes it across my ribs as he whispers. “I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart.”
I meet his eyes and search them for understanding.
“Do you know it?” I ask hopefully.
“E.E. Cummings? It’s a poem, right?”
A smile spreads across my face, and I nod. “Yeah, it is. The first time I read it, it instantly reminded me of my mom and dad. The type of love that stays with you always, in spite of distance, time, even death. An impenetrable love, embedded in your soul. And now when I think of that poem … well, I think of you.”
My eyes quickly shift to the floor as a wave of shyness overcomes me. Adam lifts my head and kisses me with reckless abandon, leaving us both breathless.
“Thank you, Sara. Thank you for the most thoughtful gift you ever could have given me. God, I love you so much.”
“And I love you.” I twist my fingers through his inky black hair and pull him back to me. “Let’s go home.”
He drove straight to his house that day—home. While I haven’t officially moved in, I spend most nights with Adam, Lily, and Gage. Not long after our reconciliation, the kids began begging for me to stay over for slumber parties, and Adam and I were more than happy to oblige. I stayed with Lily in her room in the beginning, and I thought Adam and his hormones were going to spontaneously combust. Needless to say, that arrangement didn’t last very long.
Not long after my visit to the tattoo parlor, Adam made a secret visit of his own. He placed his new addition in the exact same spot as my tattoo. I found it when I met him in the shower that night. The raised and angry skin shined like a beacon: I fear no fate for you are my fate, my sweet. Adam grabbed both my hands and pressed them firmly to his heart.
“Embedded in my soul,” he whispered to me softly.
And so it goes. We laugh, we joke, we play, and we love. God, do we ever love. Are there disagreements
and growing pains? Absolutely. But they are completely overshadowed by the wonderful memories we’re creating.
“Let’s get this party started, people,” Marlo quips as she bounds through the front door, opening the floodgates. Celia, Caroline, Audrey, Alex, and some bit of man candy walk through the door behind her.
Marlo sidles up next to me and mumbles quietly under her breath. “So how long do you think this one will last? I think I’ll give him a week.”
“I’m not sure. He’s cute, though, right?” I offer with a noncommittal shoulder shrug.
Alex’s behavior as of late has become a bit bizarre, to put it mildly. She has jumped on the dating merry-go-round with fervor and determination that she’s never shown before. It’s become a round the clock job—a never-ending quest for the right guy. She’s never brought men to family dinners in the past, but it’s now becoming the norm. When we push her for answers, she shrugs us off and says she’s back in the game and that’s all there is to it. Yeah, I’m not buying that crap.
“Sara, everything smells delicious. I can’t wait to dig in,” Alex praises as she gives me a quick hug.
“Alex, you have to introduce the new hottie. He looks delicious.” Marlo licks her lips in approval and raises her eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, no need. You’ll never see him again after tonight. Don’t even waste your energy,” Alex says with a flippant wave of her hand.
“What? You just got here! How can you know that already?” I ask.
“He’s got metal testicles hanging from the back of his truck. Yes, you heard me right. Tailgate. Testicles. Game over.”
“Wow, Alex, that’s impressive. With one sentence, you turned that guy from a sexy stud to a redneck guido. I can’t even look at him with a straight face now.” Marlo’s lips turn in disgust as she shakes her head.
“I know, right? And the search continues,” Alex sings in a sweet, cheerful voice. She can feign happy all she wants, but Marlo and I aren’t stupid.
“Everything looks lovely, dear. Simply lovely.” Caroline takes both of my hands in hers and squeezes gently.
“I’m so happy you came, Caroline.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Every time I’m blessed enough to spend time with you, Adam, and the kids, I feel as if I’m watching a family taking form right before my eyes. What a sweet privilege. Oh, Abby, I didn’t see you there, darling.”
Standing shyly in the doorway, looking as if she may run away at any moment, is Abby with a pie in hand. It’s hard to believe she’s started college. While her tuition, books, and dorm are covered with scholarships and grants, she’s waitressing at a local restaurant to help with additional living expenses. In spite of school and work, she still finds time to volunteer at New Horizons.
There’s a sadness discretely hidden behind Abby’s eyes, and I know it’s been difficult for her to come to terms with the adoption. Abby’s biological daughter is named Anna Catherine Broussard—Anna for Tom’s stepmother who passed away, and Catherine because it’s Abby’s middle name. She calls Tom and Ellie often to check up on Anna, and just last week, she visited for the first time. The visit was followed by an extended therapy session with Caroline, but she’s moving forward with her life. I couldn’t be more proud of her.
As I scan the house filled with the laughter of loved ones, I feel grateful to have found my place. When Mason and I split up, I couldn’t see past losing my best friend and the guilt associated with it. Part of me still misses him, and I think I always will. The love I feel for Adam, and the knowledge that Mason is happy, makes the loss more than worth it. It’s mind-blowing to think that giving up something (or someone) could result in my gaining everything. And that’s exactly what Adam and the kids are to me—everything.
As I meet Adam’s heated eyes from across the room, warmth and desire clutch my heart, and I couldn’t agree more with Caroline’s assessment.
What a sweet, sweet privilege.
I WOULD LIKE to thank, first and foremost, my wonderful family who endured hours of neglect as I snuck off into my own little world. Thank you to my wonderful husband, for keeping our family fed and enduring the ever-present aroma of coffee that follows me due to way too many hours spent at Starbucks. To my sweet little professor, who always asks me, “Now, why can’t I read your book?” No, you can’t read it, but you definitely helped inspire it.
To my wonderful family and friends who read the first drafts of Hope Over Fear while I chewed my fingernails to the quick. Claire, Brandi, and Casey – your positive words pushed me forward and I would not have had the courage to publish had it not been for you. It’s so scary to put your words and thoughts on display for the entire world to see, but you cheered me on and helped me take that leap. Mom, thanks for reading, but skipping over the naughty parts!
To my wonderful editor, Madison Seidler, formatter, Julie Titus, and cover designer, Regina Wamba. I truly appreciate every minute that you spent answering my million and one questions and helping me along in this journey. I know working with a new author with a steep learning curve can by trying. I can’t thank you enough for your time and patience.
To all the amazing bloggers who took the time to review and post, thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving a new author a chance. Your kind words and efforts have meant the world to me. To Roxanna, Stacia, Alexis, Kristy, Brit, Kawehi and many more who have been cheerleaders to me through this process. The indie world is full positive and giving people, and I’m richer for having known you.
To all of the wonderful readers out there, I hope you love Sara and her friends as much as I loved writing about them. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
J.A. DEROUEN RESIDES IN South Louisiana where she lives with her husband, son (aptly nicknamed “The Professor”), and her furry friend, Scout. She has earned bachelor’s degrees in psychology and nursing. When she's not writing or inhaling romance novels by the stack, she works as a women's health nurse. She’s been an avid reader and daydreamer since childhood, and she's never stopped turning the page to get to the next happily ever after.
You can find J.A. Derouen online at:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/JA-Derouen/1480178215546719
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8184871.J_A_Derouen?from_search=true
Twitter: @JADerouen1
Coming Winter 2014 – Alex’s Story
Hope Over Fear (Over #1) Page 25
