So Wrong

by Camilla Stevens

  “Thanks, Mom. And thank you, Daddy for giving your blessing,” Bonita said as she sat back down in her chair.

  “Of course. I always knew you two would end up together. A father knows these things.”

  Bonita and River just looked at each other across the table with a smile.

  That night back in his apartment they had their own celebration….

  Epilogue

  Sometime in the Happily Ever After…

  The girl sitting across from Bonita twisted one lock of hair around her finger in a frustrated tic.

  “I just don’t understand, Professor Wright,” she cried, nearly coming to tears. “I thought I had it down, but then you gave me a C+!”

  “Okay, first of all, relax, Brandy,” Bonita said with a reassuring smile. “It’s still early in the semester and you have plenty of opportunity to catch up.”

  “It’s just that all these Gascony grads have it so easy. They already know all of this and—”

  “And yes, it puts them at an unfair advantage. Did you know I was once sitting right where you are? Complete with the C grade, only mine wasn’t a plus, so already you’re ahead of the game.”

  She blinked back at Bonita in surprise, the worry lines softening in her face. “Really?”

  “Really. And do you know what my professor said? He told me that he could go easy on me, give me a leg up, but he didn’t think I was the type of student to go for that. And you know what, Brandy? I don’t think you are either.”

  Bonita could see the brief flash of consideration pass over the girl’s eyes—the same as she’d had—then disappear as she came to her senses. No, this one would do just fine here at Pierre.

  That bridge firmly crossed, Bonita continued, passing on the same sage advice that was once given to her.

  “This is what else he told me: stop taking notes and just listen in class. Read the books without trying so hard to read between the lines. Just read, let the meaning come to you naturally.”

  Brandy blinked in surprise, then a mixture of suspicion and confusion wrinkled her face.

  “You’re taking this class because you have an interest in French Literature I assume?”

  “I absolutely love Dumas,” Brandy said, practically gushing. “I mean The Counte of Monte Cristo? It’s brilliant!”

  Bonita laughed merrily. “I agree. The problem is, you’re overthinking it. Think about the first time you read that book, you just absorbed it, right? I understand Pierre can put a lot of pressure on you, but now you’re breaking it down so much it loses all meaning.”

  “But—”

  “Just try it for a few classes. Now keep in mind, this is true only of my class, I can’t speak to your other courses here,” she laughed.

  Brandy gave her a grudging smile, getting the picture, then stood up.

  “Thanks Professor Wright. This has been… reassuring.”

  “Any time, Brandy.”

  She watched the young girl exit her office, walking a little more light-footed than she had when she came plodding in. It was a nice little trip down memory lane for Bonita.

  She knew it was the conceit of age that made that time in her life seem so much simpler, back when her only concern was being over dressed for a GA party—which was still a staunch tradition at Pierre—or getting a poor grade on a paper in French Literature.

  She was still a brand new associate professor, but her career prospects had been promising, mostly due to a nice little vote of confidence from her old Professor LeFlor, who was happily passing on the baton.

  Office hours were over and she had a very important engagement to attend. She smiled as she stuffed some paperwork for the evening in her soft briefcase.

  Bonita’s cellphone rang before she could make her escape, and she smiled when she pulled it out of her purse to see who was calling.

  “Hello Marianne,” She said settling back down in her chair to chat with the woman who was still her best friend. “Let me guess, you’re just double checking to make sure River and I are still coming this weekend.”

  “Can’t a girl just call to say hi to her very best friend in the whole wide world?” Marianne replied innocently.

  “You know you don’t have to butter me up, especially since River is the one whose ass you should really be kissing.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, Brad and I have been considering the whole wife-swap thing….”

  Bonita laughed.

  “On the other hand, you might start giving him ideas about a third. I give him two perfect, little troublemakers and for some reason he wants a girl now. A woman’s work truly is never done. Speaking of which, yes I am calling to warn you that if River doesn’t come to this gala on Saturday I will personally string him up by his thumbs.”

  Marianne made a living helping charities raise funding via big ticket events. With her upper-crust connections and vivacious personality it was an obvious career choice. This weekend was the annual auction and charity gala for the Children’s Hospital of Lower Manhattan. River was donating the name of a character in his next book to the cause.

  “You know how much he loves kids, and you know how much I love looking like a beached whale in sequins and lace,” Bonita said, rubbing her tummy, which was quite noticeable these days since she was about six months along now.

  Fortunately, her husband loved her no matter what her size. In fact, he seemed to prefer her “thicker” proportions.

  “Tulip, you’re drop dead gorgeous no matter what size you are.”

  “Again, River’s the one you want to kiss up to. All I can offer is musings on Alexandre Dumas,” Bonita said laughing. “But yes, Marianne, River will be there and I will be right by his side.”

  “You’re a doll, Tulip. I’ll see you Saturday then. I’ll be the one downing the two champagne glasses in my hand.”

  They signed off and Bonita lifted herself out of her chair. Dr. Abernathy had been correct in his assurance that having a baby would be no problem with one ovary. In fact, their first had happened so quickly after the wedding there was a bit of murmuring about how close the timeline had cut it.

  But could she help it if River couldn’t keep his hands off her? She smiled as she remembered their honeymoon in Panarea, an amazing little island in the Mediterranean.

  Even today, when she was nearing house-size, he still made advances as though they were both still in college.

  It was reassuring, especially considering the young, lithe things who crushed on him these days. Not that he’d entertained any ideas about any of them.

  She looked at her watch and moved as quickly as she could. This afternoon there would be fierce competition for his attention. Best not be late.

  River wanted to laugh at the irony.

  When he was thirteen, no girl his age would so much as deign to slap his face let alone talk to him. It didn’t help that he had been a social reject almost by choice.

  Now there was literally a line of tweens, a 70/30 ratio in favor of girls, winding around the bookstore to get two minutes of conversation with him. This would be punctuated with a personal note and signature on their copy of his latest book in the Harmony series.

  The Harmony saga—now a ten book series—was a continual bestseller. Movies had been made out of the first six books already. The final four were currently under contract.

  As he had with all of his sons, Richard Wright had eventually come around when it came to River’s chosen career. Richard was nothing if not a sucker for success, especially when it came from his own genes. River’s Harmony series was the definition of success.

  In fact, it had given Richard Wright ideas about writing his own book. Of course in Richard’s case, “writing” meant hiring a ghost writer.

  River’s mother had met an Icelandic yogi and they were building a retreat somewhere in the Scandinavian wilderness. Emma had at least managed to make an appearance at his wedding and had popped over to meet her two granddaughters on occasion. At least that was somethin
g.

  Right now River was looking up at a trio of girls, all toothy smiles and adoring stares. Nothing but long, awkward limbs and fresh faces. The looks in their adoring eyes hinted at River being a first crush.

  It was almost enough to break his heart. Especially since River Wright had two little girls at home, both under the age of five. River and Bonita had found out just last week the one currently cooking in the oven would be the third girl, which he couldn’t have been happier about. God help the man who indulged beyond polite pleasantries with the Wright girls.

  But preteens were his bread and butter so River plastered on that rakish grin and answered all their eager questions, keeping firmly on the right side of the line between appreciative author and despicable lecher.

  “I just think it’s so progressive of you to make Belle and Tristan different races…or at least in term of their earthforms,” said the one, whose race, interestingly enough, he couldn’t quite place.

  She’d be a heartbreaker when she came into her own. But that was for the boys who were currently standing in line behind her, thirteen and clueless when it came to the opposite sex. Like him, they’d eventually have their day.

  River’s eye was caught by a striking woman standing off to the side giving him an admiring smile. He returned the smile and let his eyes wander down to inspect the goods. At least this one was very much age appropriate.

  The glasses were a sexy touch, reminding him of a coed he’d once admired from across the way in a university bookstore. He saw the ring on her finger and thought about the man who was lucky enough to make her his. Then he noticed the large bump, front and center and thought it only made her sexier.

  She strolled over and boldly came around the table.

  “Hey, Mister.”

  “Hey, yourself, lady.”

  “I just came to say hi.”

  “Well, since you’re here, how about a kiss as well?”

  She laughed, then leaned in to plant one on his lips. He heard the muffled cough of his publicist, but he ignored her. Surely their best selling young adult author could get a minute or two to kiss his wife.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Bonita said, pulling away. “It looks like you’re in for a long afternoon.”

  He returned his attention to the girls in front of him who watched her walk off with a mixture of raw jealousy and frank admiration.

  He couldn’t blame them. His wife was crazy hot.

  “Daddy!”

  Two little, curly-headed moppets raced to the front door, daddy’s girls that they were.

  Chloe was the oldest at four. Like her sister she had big, fat Shirley Temple curls that bounced as she ran into River’s arms. She had inherited a slightly more hazel version of his emerald green eyes.

  Elle was two and had her mother’s big brown eyes.

  Bonita just rubbed her belly as she watched them, hoping she’d get at least one who favored her.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what River’s magic secret was.

  Daddy was the one who could twirl them around in the air like a helicopter. Daddy was the one who made up silly stories that featured two smart and adventurous little girls. Daddy was the one who sang out of tune to his massive playlist of songs, making them laugh.

  They did both agree that Mommy was the preferred choice for bedtime reading. So at least Bonita had that going for her.

  Bonita couldn’t hate though. She had a soft spot for Daddy as well.

  “I think somebody didn’t get enough raspberries today,” River said, lifting Chloe up and swinging her sideways. With the other hand he lifted her shirt just enough to show her stomach then bent down to blow raspberries against it.

  The piercing squeal of laughter that erupted was enough to make Bonita wince in pain for her poor ears.

  Elle joined in, bouncing on her little feet with her arms raised waiting for Daddy to get to her.

  Nora, the part-time nanny came out of the kitchen where they had been eating their snacks and stood by Bonita as they both watched the spectacle.

  “They’re so blessed to have such a wonderful father,” she turned to Bonita with a smile, “and mother.”

  Bonita chuckled, then turned her attention back to her family.

  “We are definitely blessed.”

  “Stop,” Bonita said.

  “Stop what.”

  “You always do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Get tense whenever your hand touches it.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do.”

  Bonita shifted out of the little spoon that she played to River’s big spoon in bed to lie on her back facing him.

  “Here,” she said, taking his hand and placing it on the scar that was on her lower abdomen. “Feel this.”

  She saw his strong jaw harden and felt the hand underneath hers stiffen. She let it go through the motions until he forced it to relax against her growing stomach.

  “Look at me,” she said.

  His eyes slid over to hers and locked onto them.

  “This, this is here because you saved my life.” She shifted the hand so it rested at the top of the bump that rose out of her center.

  “This one, she’s here because you saved my life. And those two little ones in the other room who love their daddy so much? They are here because you saved my life. We are all here because you saved my life.”

  She brought the hand back down to her scar. “So you have to stop getting angry over this. This is a symbol of what you saved, what you helped create, what you’ll continue to help create. Our family.”

  His eyes wandered down to where she held his hand against her body.

  “Got it, River?”

  “Our family,” he repeated. Then bent over to kiss her. She smiled against his lips.

  “Speaking of continuing to create…”

  “Oh no you don’t!” she laughed.

  Then absolutely let him.

  PSST! Continue on for BONUS CHAPTERS to my next book!

  I

  Bonus Content

  BONUS PREVIEW CHAPTERS

  Slugger Fever

  SLUGGER FEVER

  COMING SUMMER 2017!!

  DESCRIPTION:

  Thwack!

  It was the sound that would change their lives forever.

  Carter Fox is the powerful home-run hitter for the Houston Sluggers.

  Baseball and Ballgirls. What more could a guy ask for?

  Then he sees the girl on the screen with his ball in her hands.

  Jordan Douglas has three goals in life: Finish law school. Graduate. Land that job.

  The last thing she needs is a playboy baller in her life, even if it is only for the summer.

  Then she finds herself with Carter's ball in her hands.

  An overt show of bravado.

  A case of misread intentions.

  A slanted news piece that gets picked up nationally.

  Pretty soon all of Houston is talking.

  Damage control soon leads to something deeper until…

  …a tiny, little curve ball is thrown into both their lives.

  Slugger Fever is a stand alone, HEA, BWWM romance.

  1

  “That was the second out!”

  Jordan Douglas nearly dropped her hot dog.

  “Jesus, Ben!” she mumbled under the bun she brought back to her mouth.

  “Sorry,” her cousin muttered.

  She gave him a wary look as she bit off the end and chewed. He was going to ask her to get up again, she knew it.

  Ben stared at her, his lips contorted with a mixture of impatience and guilt.

  He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. “It’s just that…one more out and Carter’s up at bat!”

  “I just got this thing,” she protested, lifting the hot dog, extra mustard.

  There had finally been a wonderful window of opportunity, where the hot dog guy had actually been in the vicinity of their seats, and Carter
wasn’t about to be up at bat. Jordan had taken full advantage. Then, bam, the Rockies had managed to get two outs, quick as lightning.

  “But…it’s a draw, 4-4. This could be the last inning, especially if he hits a home-run!” Ben pleaded.

  “Can I just finish it first? I’m starving!” she groaned.

  Her 12-year-old cousin pressed his lips together, torn between not wanting to be a nuisance to his cousin, and his desire for thing he wanted even more: one of Carter Fox’s home-run baseballs.

  She gave him a glare, hoping it might help him choose.

  He shot right back with those puppy dog eyes. She knew for a fact they had materialized just to guilt-trip her into putting on his mitt and heading down to the bottom of the stands yet again.

  It was a battle of the stares.

  Jordan couldn’t help herself any longer and began to laugh, punching him lightly in the arm. She took another quick bite of the dog and handed it to Ben, switching it out for the catcher’s mitt in his lap.

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” she mumbled with her mouth full. She stood up to go down as she fitted the mitt to her hand.

  “Jordan!” he called out.

  What now? She turned around, one hand on her hip.

  “You have some mustard on your upper lip.” He pointed to his face to show her where it was, holding back a smile.

  “Thanks a lot, cuz,” she said, running her tongue over her upper lip, lapping up the tangy smear. “At least now when I miss catching that ball, I won’t look like a complete idiot.”

  She could see he wanted to laugh, but thought better of it. No sense in pressing his luck.

  Smart kid.

  Considering how often she had done this, it was a good thing they were sitting on the end of the row, mostly because of Ben’s condition. He had been hit by a drunk driver while riding his bike, which had shattered his left leg. It had been an arduous, and sometimes patently absurd process just for him to get to the seats with that leg in a full cast. But Ben had the sort of good natured, easy-going personality that actually thought it was hilarious, despite the circumstances.