Open Heart

by Marysol James

  “Even that one?” Julie asked.

  “Especially that one.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Nine months later

  Eric sat in his office, his laptop open in front of him. He was staring at the newest post on Annabeth’s blog.

  As he read, he felt tears start. He had spent the previous nine months watching her write posts that were open and honest and shining. Although most people had been loving and understanding, she had also been savaged by some of her former supporters. Annabeth had kept comments open and she had responded with dignity and calm – but his heart had been breaking for her. More than once, he’d been afraid that the pressure and vitriol would get to her. Every time a new post went up, he breathed a sigh of relief that she was still out there somewhere.

  The newest post was another example of her determination to tell the truth about the past almost-four years: ‘I think part of grieving is pretending to be OK when you’re not. We do it because we feel like some kind of timeline exists on our grief. Like we’re ‘allowed’ to be devastated and comatose for so long, and then we’re expected to pull ourselves together and get on with things. We think that not being OK makes us self-indulgent and weak.’

  ‘I think we also pretend to be fine because we think that if we act OK then somehow – by magic or osmosis – maybe we actually will be truly OK. The whole ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ thing. But we all know there’s no faking healing. Not deep, real healing.’

  ‘I faked it.’

  ‘I know that many of you are disappointed in me. You may well feel betrayed, like everything that I ever said or wrote was a lie. I can understand that, and I’m so sorry. I wish that I had done things differently.’

  ‘All I can promise you is that now, I’m open to hurt and love. Now, I’m strong enough to be weak. Now, I’m honest.’

  ‘And since I’m open to love and I’m strong and honest, I have one thing to say, one thing that really needs to be said:’

  ‘Eric, if you’re reading this, then please know that I forgive you. It took me some time, but now I understand everything that you did and why you did it.’

  ‘I’m happy that my husband’s heart beats in your chest, happy that you’re walking among the wildflowers because Cam’s heart saved your life.’

  ‘I’m happy that you’re alive.’

  He read it four times, then leaned back in his chair. She had a ‘contact me’ link on her site which he’d been tempted to use many times, but never had.

  He clicked on it and his gmail account popped up. He thought for a minute and then wrote in the subject line ‘From Eric’. He paused. The he wrote: ‘Dear Annabeth,

  I just read your latest blog post. I have so many things to tell you… can we talk?

  I’m sure that you get some questionable e-mails, so in case you don’t believe this is really me, let me just say: I brought you scarlet paintbrushes once. I’d like to do that again, if you’ll let me.’

  Love from,

  Eric

  **

  Annabeth read Eric’s e-mail, her heart racing. He had included his phone number under his name and she stared at it. The thought of hearing that warm voice again made her breathless.

  Oh, God. I have missed him.

  She picked up her phone, hesitated, then dialed the number. She almost hung up but she forced herself to hang on.

  It’s just a phone call.

  What’s one phone call?

  “Hello?”

  Like honey, his voice was sweet and thick. She saw him in her mind’s eye, broad and handsome, his dark eyes blazing down at her as he made love to her.

  “Eric. It’s Annabeth.”

  “Oh, God.” She heard him heave a sigh. “Annabeth. How are you, angel?”

  ‘Angel’. Oh, I’ve missed that.

  “I’m good. Really good. But maybe you know that… you’ve been reading my blog, haven’t you?”

  “Yeah. Every day. You’ve been so brave, baby. I’m amazed by you.”

  “Thank you. I’ve had lots of help.”

  “You’re doing OK with all the negative stuff?”

  “Well, I won’t pretend it’s been pleasant. Sometimes, it’s been truly awful. But… it’s getting easier to handle.”

  “I hope so.”

  A pause, then she dove in.

  “So you know that my book is almost done, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And I was thinking: I’ll be going back to Open Skies next month to do the revisions and editing, and also for Julie and Jake’s wedding. Maybe – I mean, if you want to – maybe you could meet me there? Be my date? And…maybe we could talk?”

  He was so shocked, he literally couldn’t speak.

  Annabeth’s heart stopped.

  Maybe I waited too long. Maybe he can’t get over the awful things that I said. Maybe he’s in love with someone else.

  “Eric? If it’s a bad idea or you have a girlfriend or whatever, just say so, OK?”

  He found his voice. “I’d love to.”

  “You would?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you want to – try?” she said. “Try with me?”

  “That’s what I’ve wanted ever since I met you, Annabeth.”

  She smiled even as tears rolled down her cheeks. “OK.”

  “OK.”

  They were both silent for a few seconds.

  What’s one phone call?

  Everything. It can be everything “So… how’s life among the flowers?” she asked.

  “Oh, Annabeth. You won’t believe it.”

  “Believe what?”

  “I’ve managed to grow some Golden Smoke in a special cooled section of my greenhouse.”

  “Really? The ones that I liked so much? The ones you don’t have in Texas?”

  “Yep.”

  “How are they doing in a strange new place?”

  “They’re delicate and tough and thriving. Just like you, angel.”

  Excerpt from ‘Fighting Hard’

  (Fighting For Love #1)

  Dear Reader,

  I very much hope that you enjoyed following Annabeth and Eric’s story, and catching up with everyone at Open Skies Ranch. I’d like to now introduce you to my new series: The ‘Fighting For Love’ series, and as a warm thank you for your support, here is a short excerpt from the first book ‘Fighting Hard’ (Fighting For Love #1).

  Nick Spencer sighed as he poured out what felt like the millionth Appletini this week. Why did all the hot girls go for this repulsive drink? He blamed ‘The Bachelor’. Damn reality television, making ditzy girls live vicariously through idiots pining for a rose.

  The group of supremely drunk women was looking him up and down now, and he pulled himself up to his full and impressive height. Their eyes struggled to focus on him so they could take him in: broad shoulders, chest muscles clearly visible through his staff t-shirt, huge arms and hands. The one woman with long red hair practically licked her lips when their eyes met.

  Nick knew exactly where his tips came from and he winked at her. Even from a few feet away, he saw her pupils dilate and he knew she was imagining him with his shirt off, approaching her full of bad intentions. Hell, he might even make the fantasy a reality later if she stuck around to closing time and played her cards right. He had nothing against redheads, though he did prefer blondes… not that that made him a gentleman.

  He gave them his charming smile as he set their drinks on the counter. “Here you go, ladies.”

  “Thanks,” said the redhead. “Our friend will be over to pay in a sec.”

  “Which friend?” he asked.

  She gestured vaguely at a woman sitting at a table. “Her.”

  Nick focused on the woman and fixed her in to his memory: light brown hair, unsexy-as-crap dress. OK. Got it.

  Another woman was trying to get his attention on the other side of the bar: she was leaning over far enough that her breasts were practically falling out of that silver halter top and on
to the counter. That had happened more than once, and more than once on purpose. He’d taken some of the women up on the offer, too.

  He kept serving, keeping an eye on the brunette, making sure the group didn’t up and leave before she paid. Time passed, the music got louder and the crush of dancing bodies tighter.

  Nick’s body started to hum as the women’s eyes got hotter, more ravenous. They were getting drunker by the minute now, and he started looking back at them just as boldly, deciding which one of the leggy beauties with not too many clothes on he’d go home with tonight. Maybe that one over there, with the smoking body and long blonde hair and vacant eyes, with the barely-there skirt and generous side-boob. She’d be great to fuck, easy to get away from in the morning. She hardly looked like a chick seeking a boyfriend. That suited Nick just fine.

  He flashed her his sexiest smile, the one that women responded to every single time and saw her hungry interest. So far, the night was right on course to go the way his nights working at The Cave almost always did: great tips from hot women, his most devastating flirting and come-ons followed up by sex with no strings.

  He didn’t know it then, but his night tonight was going to be different. Tonight was going to change everything.

  **

  Mia Ferris sat and watched with resignation as her former co-workers debated ordering yet another round of Appletinis from the sexy bartender. She was tired and hot and bored, and all she wanted to do was go home. But Iris had insisted that her birthday party be tonight and here and Mia had promised to go. She saw the girls so rarely since she’d left Peregrine Consulting four years ago to write full-time, so she kind of felt obligated.

  It was worse than she had envisioned, though. The girls were so drunk, it was kind of worrying. Mia didn’t drink much at the best of times, and seeing Iris and Sally and Vanessa lurching around, eye makeup smeared and blouses slowly slipping off their shoulders, freaked her out.

  Iris leaned over to her now, her long red hair a mess, her breath reeking of alcohol, her words slurred. “Hey, Mia? Can you go pay for the last round?”

  “What?”

  “The last round? Can you pay? You have all the cash, right?”

  “Oh. Oh, yeah. Did you order my juice?”

  “Umm…. nope. We forgot. Sorry.”

  “It’s OK. I’ll go now.”

  Mia got to her feet and carefully made her way through the dancers. She reached the bar and looked around for the bartender who had served her friends. She remembered that he had very short brown hair, but that was about it.

  As she stood there, she noticed the women surrounding her and she began to feel self-conscious. She had never much liked her body – her breasts were too small and her hips were too wide – and every insecurity she had reared its ugly head. These women were tall and slim with impossibly huge breasts; they had figured out eye makeup usage and were not the slightest bit shy about showing what they had. Mia glanced down at her long, loose dress and felt fat and ugly.

  Nick turned and saw the brunette standing there. She was pretty, he supposed, in an earthy way: not a lot of makeup that he could see, no nail polish, clothes that covered most of her body. Some kind of necklace that made him think of an ancient artefact from Thailand or India. Kind of refreshing to see this kind of woman here, and definitely unusual.

  He walked over and gave her the neutral smile that he reserved for average females. “Hey.”

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m here to pay for that last round. And can I also get a cranberry juice added to that bill?”

  “Sure,” Nick said. “You not an Appletini fan?”

  She looked up at him and smiled. He was taken aback at its sweetness – nothing lustful or greedy or horny about this smile. It was genuine and shining and somehow pure. He hadn’t seen too many smiles like that coming at him from the other side of the bar.

  “No,” she said. “Not much of an alcohol fan at all, actually. I haven’t had a single drink tonight, I’m afraid.”

  “Really?” he said. “Well, I’m glad more people don’t think like you. I’d be out of a job pretty quick.”

  She laughed and he watched as her face just lit up. “You could still pour out juice that’s marked up about three hundred percent.”

  “True,” he said. “Speaking of which, let me get your ridiculously overpriced juice and the bill, OK?”

  “Sure,” Mia said and sat down. She wasn’t in a huge rush to get back to the table.

  “Just juice?” said a deep voice next to her. “That’s no fun.”

  She turned and saw a guy about her age, maybe a bit older than her thirty-one years. He was OK-looking, but definitely not her type.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” she said. “But it works for me.”

  “Really? How about your girlfriends? They look like they’re having fun.” He nodded over at the table where Vanessa was now doing body shots off some random guy and Iris and Sally were making out with various men on the dance floor. “I’m Trevor, by the way.”

  Mia didn’t really like the way that he was looking her up and down. In this bar full of women begging to be the center of attention, why did this guy go for her? Also, how did he know which women she was with? It was kind of odd.

  Nick came back with her juice and the bill. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks,” she said and reached in to her purse for some money. “That’ll cover it.”

  He nodded in gratitude at the tip and then noticed the man sitting there and looking at her. Something about this guy felt wrong, and after tending bar for ten-plus years, Nick trusted it when his gut told him someone was off. He went back to pouring drinks, but he kept an eye on the creep. He was trying to talk to the brunette and she was being stiffly polite, but definitely not encouraging.

  Mia was just about to make some excuses and exit gracefully when her phone rang. She saw that it was Katie and she said to the guy, “Sorry, I just want to take this, OK?”

  He nodded and she turned away from him slightly.

  “Hey, Katie. How’s the networking conference?”

  “Urgh. Waste of time, Mia. You were smart not to come.”

  “Ouch. Sorry to hear that.”

  “But… Joe is here.”

  “Joe? Maggie’s ex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s he doing there? He’s a chef, not an artist or photographer.”

  “He’s opening a new restaurant and is looking for people to do some original artwork for it.” Katie snorted. “He asked Maggie to do a sculpture for the main entrance.”

  “Oh, boy. How did that go?”

  “About as well as you’d expect.”

  “She kicked his ass to the curb?”

  “At least twice.”

  Mia laughed. “What time do you guys get back on Sunday?”

  “Around eight in the evening.”

  “OK. Coffee on Monday morning? My place? You can give me the blow-by-blow then.”

  “Sure thing. Have fun at the club.”

  “Yeah, right. ‘Cause you know clubbing and drinking is totally my scene.”

  “Duck out early.”

  “I’m thinking about it. Bye, Katie.”

  Mia hung up and turned back to Trevor. “Well, it was nice talking to you. Have a nice evening.”

  “You too,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you later.”

  “Um. Maybe.” Mia gave him a little smile and went back to the table. She sat and took a big gulp of her juice, then another. She looked around, wondering how much longer she’d have to stay before she could bail on the girls, and she saw the guy at the bar watching her closely. She blinked, thinking him really strange and turned her attention to her friends, watching their antics on the dance floor and feeling incredibly boring and old.

  After a few minutes, Iris came back to the table with her lipstick all over her chin. “Hey, Mia! You gonna dance?”

  “Maybe later,” Mia said. “I’ll just drink this first.”

  Iris n
odded absently, looking over Mia’s shoulder at some new random guy. She shot off to the floor and started gyrating on him. His friends applauded.

  Oh, God. I think I’ll sneak out now. They’re not going to miss me at this point.

  Mia drained her glass of juice, took the rest of her friends’ money out of her purse and stood up. A wave of dizziness hit her and she staggered. Whoa. I guess I stood up too quickly. She spotted Vanessa and she walked over to her.

  “Hey, Vanessa? I’m off now. Here’s your money, OK?”

  Vanessa gave a vague wave and stuffed the cash in her purse. She turned her back and kept dancing.

  OK, well. I guess I was right – they won’t even notice I’m gone.

  Mia was walking to the door when her head started to spin. She stopped, totally disoriented. She couldn’t understand why she felt so drunk when she hadn’t had anything to drink. The flashing lights made her more confused and she lurched to one side, then the other. Someone crashed in to her and she spun off in yet another direction. She had no control over her body suddenly, and she felt her balance start to go. Feeling sick and dizzy, she reached out blindly, hoping to make contact with a wall, a table, something solid that she could hold on to until whatever this was passed.

  Then hands were on her upper arms, supporting her. Gasping, she raised her head, tried to focus. A man was holding her up. She opened her mouth to thank him just before she pitched forward, insensible.

  Trevor looked down at Mia. She was limp and her eyes were half-open.

  “I’ve got you,” he said.

  **

  Nick glanced up from the till just in time to see the creep from the bar practically carrying the brunette out the door. She looked really out of it, like her feet weren’t even under her anymore. He frowned. From just looking at the two of them and if he didn’t know better, he’d say that the guy was supporting his wasted girlfriend. The problem was that he knew for a fact that the woman wasn’t wasted. She also wasn’t this creep’s girlfriend.

  So what’s she doing leaving with him? And why can’t she walk on her own?

  The truth hit him like a truck and he launched himself over the bar in one strong movement. Nick barreled through the dancing crowd, losing precious seconds, using his massive upper body to roughly force people out of his way. He reached the door, ducked outside in to the cool late-autumn night. He looked both directions, back and forth; no sign of them.