Too Good at Goodbyes

by RC Boldt

  It’s similar to looking at a slideshow of some of the highlights of our lives, documented by photos we’ve shared online, including the most recent one I posted. Even though I can easily go on Instagram and see them on either Simone’s account or my own, it still brings back some of our favorite memories.

  I lean closer so she can read the screen.

  Simone King and Kane Windham snuck up on everyone with their low-key romance. They kept things excruciatingly private in the beginning of their courtship, but little by little, they’ve opened up and let us see the love and adoration and hilarity between the couple.

  They technically met at work, so we’re deeming this a workplace romance. Kane served as Simone’s temporary personal head of security during her Throwing Shade tour. He was, quite literally, responsible for protecting her body. (Swoon!)

  This power couple is no stranger to our lists, so some of these may be repeats from former features. Below are some of our favorite moments, in chronological order of Kane Windham and Simone King-Windham’s relationship.

  1.

  When Kane and Simone made their first “official” appearance as a couple at the People’s Choice Awards (where Simone was awarded Female Artist of the Year), the world collectively swooned at the way the two smiled at each other.

  2.

  When Simone announced her engagement on Instagram.

  He decided to put a ring on it…after I won a Golden Globe. @kanewindhamsecurity Guess you really want VIP passes to my next movie. Well played. #Kidding #HeKnowsILoveHim #MyNorthStar #TooSappyForPublicConsumption #SoonToBeWindham

  Kane commented,

  It was either that or try to find work on the set. This was the easier route. #JustKidding #YouKnowILoveYou #MyNorthStar

  3.

  When they shared two photos from their super-secret beach wedding, sending the hearts of even the Grinchiest people aflutter.

  The photo on the left: Kane’s expression when Simone is walking down the aisle toward him is EVERYTHING.

  The photo on the right: The way they smile at one another as though they’re privy to a secret no one else knows makes hearts shoot out of our eyes.

  4.

  When Kane made a rare appearance with his wife during her 60 Minutes interview, and Susan Bradshaw asked, “How did you know he was the one?”

  Simone: Who?

  Kane: She means me, smartass.

  Simone: Ohhhh. Sorry.

  This photo of the couple looking at one another, laughing at themselves afterward, makes it that much better. Yet another example of how they’re #CoupleGoals when they can joke around and have fun together.

  5.

  When Simone announced they were expecting their first child, the photo had us all swooning and salivating (and not just because of the French toast!). Kane is pictured feeding the singer/actress a forkful of her infamous French toast she often posts about.

  Ensuring baby Windham will be a fan of my famous French toast. #Love #Fact #BabyWindham #FrenchToastFriday

  6.

  The time Kane and Simone [beautifully pregnant with their daughter, Livvie] were on the red carpet for the Grammy Awards, and he had trouble not looking at her like she was the only female in existence.

  7.

  When Kane posted a photo on Instagram of himself with Livvie perched on his shoulders while Simone was away appearing as a guest coach on the set of the hit show, The Voice.

  Just a heads-up, @SimoneKingSings I got myself a new girl. She’s young and likes to call me Daddy. Also, she knows tricks like how to swindle a man out of his last dollar bills because “OMG, COTTON CANDY!” #SorryNotSorry #YoungerLady #ImAllHers #LittleWindham

  Simone didn’t hesitate to clap back at her husband and responded by posting a photo of herself while holding star judge of The Voice, Ash Tatum’s adorable baby boy nestled against her chest.

  Damn, Livvie. You move fast. @KaneWindhamSecurity It’s cool, bro. I found a new man, and he likes to call me Mama. #MicDrop #HesMineNow #NotSorry #SheBetterNotBeEatingNothingButSugar #OrYoureSleepingInTheGuestBedroomWhenIGetHome

  Check out those last two hashtags. They’re our favorites so far.

  8.

  The time Kane and Simone [pregnant with son, Micah] were on the red carpet for the Grammy Awards and he kept his hand at her back/waist the entire time in super alpha protective mode, yet his smile was simultaneously panty-melting.

  9.

  When Simone shared a photo of newborn Micah being held by a dozing Kane in a rocking chair.

  @KaneWindhamSecurity Pretty sure I couldn’t love you more right now, holding our son, who looks so much like you. On second thought, that’s a lie. I would totally love you more if you’d get me an ice pack for my poor lady bits. Your mom wasn’t joking. Big heads really do run in your family. #RealTalk #BigHeads #Ouch #MyBoys #Love #RealRomance

  * * *

  And Kane responded with: Thought you didn’t want anyone to know about my amazingly big, uh, head… #RealTalk #WindhamMen #BigHeads

  10.

  The photo Kane posted for Mother’s Day which included Simone with newborn son, Micah, nestled against her chest in a carrier, holding hands with their five-year-old daughter, Livvie, on the beach, the two ladies all smiles.

  Happy Mother’s Day to the woman who continuously makes me look subpar as a parent because you know how to braid hair “so much better.” You’re incredible, and I bow down to you, Princess. We love you. Also, beware: I’m determined to surpass you in skill at braiding. #RealTalk #Goals #BestMomEver #MyNorthStar #LoveYou

  Simone’s eyes meet mine once we’ve read through the list, and they’re filled with so much love, my breath lodges in my chest. Because it’s hard to believe this is my life. She’s mine, and I’m hers, and we’re in this together, partners one hundred percent.

  I close the distance to press a light kiss to her lips before whispering words we don’t go a day without saying.

  “I love you.”

  She peers up at me, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Still a fact?”

  “Always and forever, Princess.” I link our fingers, and we relax, enjoying the quiet time together before Micah wakes up for a feeding. Her palm against mine, it settles me.

  “Always and forever.”

  THE END

  Dear Reader

  If you would be so kind as to leave a review on the site where you purchased the book, it would be appreciated beyond words.

  If you send me an email at rcboldtbooks@gmail.com with the link to your review, I’ll send you a personal ‘thank you’!

  Please know I truly appreciate you taking time from your busy schedule to read this book! If you’d like to stay up to date on my future releases, you can sign up for my mailing list (I’m the most anti-SPAMMY person ever—promise!) via this link: http://eepurl.com/cgftw5.

  Be sure to check out my other books:

  Standalones

  Out of Love

  CLAM JAM

  Out of the Ashes

  BLUE BALLS

  He Loves Me…KNOT

  Tap That (with Jennifer Blackwood)

  The Good Samaritan

  DITCHED

  With a Hitch

  Choose Me

  Excerpt from CHOOSE ME

  PROLOGUE

  HOLLIS

  Fairhope, Alabama

  I tug at the tie strangling me. Or it could be anxiety’s invisible grip tightening around my throat.

  Dammit, what the hell was I thinking? I can’t do this. I rake a hand through my hair, not giving two shits that I’m mussing it.

  Just a few minutes ago, I sneaked into her childhood bedroom to see her—to have one final moment with just the two of us. She looked so goddamn beautiful. The veil cascading down her back from her sparkly headband. That dress made her look like one of those princesses she used to talk about when we were younger.

  I wrote her a letter—one I never intend to give her. There’s no way I’m a big enough bastard to confess my f
eelings on her wedding day when she’s minutes away from pledging her life to another man.

  I ease away from the crowd and lean against one of the rear posts of the enormous pergola. I’m not claiming one of those chairs because I’m man enough to admit the odds of me lasting through the entire ceremony are slim as hell. I reach inside my suit jacket for the flask tucked there. Sliding it from the inner pocket, I twist off the cap and take a swig of whiskey before pocketing it again.

  The backyard overflows with guests. Neat rows of white wooden fold-out chairs line each side of the walkway leading to where her grandfather stands, chatting with Ms. Margie, the owner of the local diner. A trio of violinists stand poised off to one side.

  This wedding might be in the backyard like she always claimed she wanted, but it’s far larger. It’s not small or intimate; it’s turned into a bit of a circus. But she’s getting her wish of having her grandfather officiate and her stepdad walk her down the aisle.

  The violinists play the first few notes of the wedding march, and my entire body stiffens with a mixture of anxiety, nausea, and pain. A thousand-pound weight settles on my chest and grows even heavier as I watch Magnolia’s stepfather usher her along.

  She’s getting her happily ever after.

  The one constant in my life, my best friend, and the only woman who’s ever owned my fucking heart and soul is getting married today.

  With every step she takes, her beauty robbing me of breath, bringing her closer to him, more anger unfurls deep inside me. I should’ve manned up long ago.

  I wish I’d had the courage to ask her to choose me.

  As soon as she turns and is halfway down the aisle to him, I hightail it to my truck. I can’t do this. I can’t stick around and listen to her exchange vows with another man while I wish like hell I were in his place.

  Within minutes, I’m yanking open the door to the old diner. I hesitate as soon as I’m inside, the Seat Yourself sign on display since it’s not too crowded at this time. In the end, nostalgia wins out, and I slide into what I’ll always think of as our booth.

  I order a coffee from a young waitress I don’t recognize. Luckily, she leaves me alone, and I discreetly pour some whiskey into my cup. The hefty swallow of spiked coffee doesn’t do much to soothe me.

  Staring into the dark brew, I’m bombarded with the memory of Magnolia and I coming here so often that Ms. Margie would place a Reserved sign on this booth for us after home football games on Friday nights.

  More memories flit through my brain. The first time Magnolia introduced herself. When we built the treehouse. Battling bullies and her insecurities. Navigating high school relationships. College. We’d been inseparable for years. Sure, there’ve been some rough patches, but we’ve always been friends.

  Now, I can’t deny it any longer. I need to move on. Sell the damn house and cut ties with this place altogether. There’s nothing left for me here.

  The hot coffee sears my throat, but I pay it no mind. I’m lost in the past.

  In how it all began.

  EIGHT YEARS OLD

  Fairhope, Alabama

  This is the summer I always dreamed of.

  I get extra time with my dad before he starts his new job and we’re building a treehouse.

  Plus, we’re out of Mom’s hair so she can’t complain about whatever bee gets stuck in her bonnet.

  “What we’re doin’ here, son, is buildin’ a cabin-style treehouse.”

  I peer up at my dad. “What’s the difference between that and a regular one?”

  “This one’s more elaborate…which means it’ll be a little bit more work.” At my groan, he raises his eyebrows with a knowing look. “But it’ll be worth it because it’ll have a shingled roof, a small window, and a door.”

  “Really?”

  He smiles. “Yes, sir.” Then he gets back to work measuring the boards, and I hold them steady while he uses his electric saw to cut them along the pencil markings.

  The best part about Dad’s new job at the paper mill is that we moved from our apartment in Birmingham and got this great house—especially with the huge tree in the backyard—here in Fairhope. Now, Mom can stay home and be a seamstress.

  After lunchtime, Dad and I start running out of steam. The heat and humidity during the summer here on the Gulf Coast are awful.

  “I reckon it’s almost time to call it a day.” Dad raises his eyes to look at me. “What do you think?”

  I heave out a tired breath. “Yes, sir.”

  I turn at the sound of a car pulling into the driveway of the house behind us. This neighbor’s home is large—way bigger than ours—and it has a garage on the side. It’s like someone drew an imaginary line between our backyards. On our side of the neighborhood, houses are smaller but still nice. The house behind us is on the other side with much bigger houses with stucco that doesn’t look faded.

  The other clue is the cars—all fancy, shinier ones.

  A girl around my age gets out of a car with a suitcase on wheels and one arm wrapped around a sleeping bag. She hurries up to the door of the fancy house and disappears inside.

  Dang. I’d been hoping there’d be a boy I could play with. Maybe there are others around here. Once Dad and I finish up for the day, I’ll ride my bike around the neighborhood and check it out.

  A few minutes pass while Dad and I cut the last few boards before a little voice calls out, “Hi there!”

  We turn to find the same girl I just saw. She’s wearing some fancy dress that has flowers on it and lace at the collar. Her shoes are shiny and pink. Her blond hair is pulled back in a ponytail.

  “Hi.” I force the word out and I know it’s not the most mannerly, but I kinda want my dad to myself.

  “I’m Magnolia Barton. I live right over there.” She waves a hand to her house.

  My dad smiles at her. “Nice to meet you, Magnolia. I’m Jay, and this is my son, Hollister.”

  I’m quick to correct him. “Hollis.”

  “Nice to meet you, gentlemen.” She smiles, her head tipping to the side and the ends of her blond ponytail slide over the shoulder of her dress.

  “Y’all are workin’ mighty hard out here.” Her Southern accent is thicker than molasses. “Would y’all like me to get you some sweet tea?”

  I stare at her for a minute before I turn to my dad with a look like, Is she for real?

  He smiles and his eyes crinkle the way they do when he’s trying to hold back a laugh. “Why, that’s a lovely offer, but I think we’re good. Thank you, though.”

  “You’re welcome.” She grins, showing a small gap between her front teeth.

  “Why do you talk so prim and proper?” I blurt out without thinking.

  “Son.” Dad’s tone is sharp.

  “Sor-ry,” I mutter.

  She steps closer, and I notice her eyes are a bright blue. “Mother tells me a young lady’s always polite. Plus, my stepdaddy, Roy always says we need to be a good example for others.”

  Sounds pretty boring to me, but whatever. I turn back to the boards but stop when my dad looks like he’s just realized something.

  “Your stepfather’s Senator Barton?”

  “Yes, sir,” she says proudly. Then she moves in closer to me. “What’re you workin’ on?”

  “We’re buildin’ a treehouse.”

  “A treehouse?” The excitement in her voice has me turning her way and I notice she smells nice. Like that coconut sunscreen my mom sometimes uses. “I’ve always wanted a treehouse.” The way she says it in a sad kind of way bothers me for some reason.

  I shrug. “When we finish, maybe you can hang out sometime.”

  Her eyes go wide, and her mouth forms an O. “Really?”

  “Sure.” Geez, you’d think I said I’d take her to Disney World or something. Her face brightens, and when she smiles this time, I smile back.

  “I can bring over some of the sweet tea and banana bread our housekeeper makes.”

  “Uh…” I glance over at my dad
, who looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “Sounds great.”

  “Mr. Jay, do y’all need any help?” She links her hands behind her back, looking eager. “I’d like to pitch in somehow if I’m invited inside after it’s finished.”

  Dad glances at her dress and shoes. “It’s probably not a good idea to do much in those nice clothes, Magnolia.” He gestures to his own old holey jeans and T-shirt. “Just in case.”

  “Oh.” Her face falls.

  “Plus, we’re fixin’ to call it quits for the day.”

  “What about tomorrow?” She looks up at him hopefully.

  Dad turns to me, and I know he’s silently asking me if it’s okay to invite her to help. I’ll feel like a jerk if I say no even though I really want this time with my dad to be just us guys.

  I blow out a long breath. “Tomorrow, we’ll be workin’ on the roof, if you wanna help.” Maybe she’ll say no.

  She blinds me with her gap-toothed smile. “I’ll be here. And I’ll bring refreshments.”

  “Great.” I try to act excited, but I’m not too sure about this. Plus, I’m not really a fan of banana bread. Chocolate chip cookies are more my thing.

  All I know is, she’d better bring over some killer sweet tea.

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  About the Author

  RC Boldt enjoys long walks on the beach, running, reading, people watching, and singing karaoke. If you're in the mood for some killer homemade mojitos, can't recall the lyrics to a particular 80's song, or just need to hang around a nonconformist who will do almost anything for a laugh, she's your girl.

  RC loves hearing from her readers at rcboldtbooks@gmail.com. You can also check out her website at http://www.rcboldtbooks.com or her Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/rcboldtauthor for the latest updates on upcoming book releases.

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