by Stella James
I’m still painting, more on a part time basis since we had the girls, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. My family is the most important thing to me and even on those days when the girls drive me crazy and Ethan and I snap at each other, I remind myself just how lucky I am, and I try not to take a single moment for granted. Even the less perfect ones.
I look up just as Elle and her daughter Sadie walk around the corner. My five year old niece takes off toward the playground while Elle, at seven months pregnant, makes her way toward me and sits down with a thud.
“Whoever said that being pregnant in the middle of summer isn’t a big deal, is a Goddamn liar,” she says. She looks up at Ethan and gives him an appreciative smile as he hauls Sadie up onto the monkey bars and helps her get across.
“Why don’t you drop Sadie off at our place later and you and Blake can go on a date? The girls would love to have a sleepover and you look like you could use a break.”
“Ugh, trust me, the last thing Blake wants to do is go on a date with me. I’m so miserable and uncomfortable all the time.”
“So, stay in then. Drop her off at supper time and spend the night curled up on the sofa. Seriously Elle, I’m not taking no for an answer,” I warn.
“Okay, fine,” she sighs. “Maybe I can muster enough energy to give my husband a piece of this sweet ass of mine,” she chuckles.
“That’s the spirit!”
“Have you heard from Anna lately?”
“Yeah, she called this morning actually. They didn’t have very good service, but she said they’re having a great time and she’ll call me as soon as they get back.”
“I wonder how the kids are behaving,” she laughs. “I bet Esme is pumping them full of sugar and spoiling them rotten.”
“As any grandmother would, I imagine.”
“How did the girls do at their first sleepover with Papa Cal?”
“Good actually, I think he wanted to keep them longer. Chloe told me he made pancakes for supper and breakfast, and that he let them stay up late to watch Finding Nemo. I think they like him more than they like me,” I snort.
My dad and I have been close ever since that first awkward meeting all those years ago. When I first introduced him to Ethan, he waited until I left the room before he gave Ethan a vivid description of the bodily harm he would cause him if he ever hurt me. It was incredibly sweet and when Ethan told me about it later that night I cried like a baby. He comes to all the girls’ recitals and playschool functions and he’s been front and center at every single exhibit I’ve held at Cassie’s little downtown gallery. He always says he’s making up for lost time.
I reach for Elle’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze as we sit together and watch our kids play, thinking to myself that my heart couldn’t possibly feel more love than it does right now.
Later that night as I’m nestled in Ethan’s arms, my heart resting against his, I think about the series of moments that brought us to where we are now.
Sometimes the glass slipper isn’t meant for you. Sometimes you have to write your own fairy tale and fight for your happily ever after. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll find someone who isn’t a prince waiting to sweep you off your feet, but an imperfect man who’s looking for a second chance and is brave enough to take it.
The End
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my amazing husband and my beautiful daughters for all your love and support.
To my tribe - L, R and J – It is a privilege to know you. Thank you for every ounce of support and motivation you give me.
To my readers and supporters, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love you all dearly.
Stella xox
About the Author
Stella James enjoys reading, yoga and beer/wine. Not necessarily in that order. She writes in her limited spare time for your reading pleasure and also to silence the various characters that have taken up residence in her cute little head.
If you would like to be informed of upcoming releases or if you just want to be nosy because it’s fun, come and find her on social media.
https://www.instagram.com/stellajamesauthor/
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15308422.Stella_James
Also by Stella James
Currently available on Amazon
Worth the Chance – Blue Falls Book 1
Worth the Risk – Blue Falls book 2
Clipped (a Blue Falls novella 2.5)
Worth the Fight – Blue Falls Book 3
Wild (a Blue Falls novella 3.5)
Worth the Wait – Blue Falls Book 4
The Boss – A novella contribution to the Amazon bestselling anthology, Brothel: The magnolia diaries
The Beard – A contemporary standalone romantic comedy
Bluebird – A standalone new adult romance
Exclusive excerpt
Anna
The Ever After Series
Book 2
Coming Soon!
Chapter 1
Anna
That’s it. I’m going to go over there and tell him to shut it down. This is crazy. Who has a party on a Monday night? Dumb question Anna, this guy clearly doesn’t discriminate when it comes to having company. Loud company. For two weeks, I have been enduring the thumping of music and the herd of people who apparently share my new neighbour’s disregard for peace and quiet. This has been an ongoing annoyance several nights a week since he moved in. I’m beyond exhausted and knowing that tomorrow morning I’ll be faced with seventeen five year olds who will yet again show no mercy to my sleep deprivation, is the last straw.
I flip the covers back and glance at the clock. It’s just past midnight, a perfectly reasonable time for me to request he shut it down for the night. Really, he’s lucky that it’s just me he has to deal with. If Mrs. Mercer was still in 2B she would have called the cops on him by now. I pull on a pair of soft grey yoga pants and a loose fitting black hoodie over top of my plain cotton nightgown to hide the fact that I’m not wearing a bra. Not that anyone would notice with my less than impressive cup size, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I pull my long auburn hair into a messy knot as I make my way through the living room. I open my door and cross the hallway to the only other occupied apartment on my floor. I take a deep breath and straighten my spine before knocking firmly.
I’ve only caught a passing glance of the guy that moved in and I don’t even know his name. Hopefully he’s genuinely clueless to his behaviour and not a complete jerk. I knock again, harder. This is pointless, there’s no way anyone can hear me above the music. One more knock and then I’m going to have to just open the door and let myself in. I raise both my fists and reel my arms back, connecting briefly with the door as it swings open and I fall into a hard, broad chest.
“Woah, easy there,” he says, his deep voice vibrating against my ear as I remain momentarily plastered to his body.
I push myself from him and stumble back slightly as I stand on my own feet and bring my gaze up the length of his body. I’m eventually met with a playful smirk and a pair of cobalt eyes dancing with humour. Obviously at my expense. I crane my neck back as my eyes continue to wander over his thick, short, dirty blond hair and the light dusting of matching stubble along his defined jaw, when I suddenly remember why I’m here.
“Hi, I’m Anna. I live across the hall,” I explain. “I really don’t want to be a pain, but could you please turn down your music and maybe call it a night?”
He begins down at my bare feet and trails his eyes over my hips, briefly pausing at the concealed outline of my chest before meeting my expectant stare. I’m anticipating an acknowledgement or perhaps even an apology. Words of some kind, at the very least. What I am not expecting is his door to slowly close in my face without so much as a hint of human decency. What the hell? I raise my hand to knock again before chickening out. Picking my jaw up off the floor, I stomp back to my apartment, closing
my own door as hard as I can before flipping the lock. I head straight for the kitchen and dig through my junk drawer until I find a pad of paper and a pen. I jot down a quick note for myself.
Seriously inquire murder for hire. Cost? Craigslist?
I stick the yellow note to the coffee maker and head back to bed. I grab my iPod and earbuds from the nightstand and pray that The Lumineers can lull me to sleep while I ponder the likelihood of being able to hire an assassin on a teacher’s salary.
*
