“I think we might get kicked out by you-know-who if you try anything funny, Mr. Whitman.”
“I think I’m willing to take my chances, Ms. Daniels.” And with that, he dips me, his lips hitting mine like raindrops hitting the dry ground after a drought. The explosion of moisture between our lips causes me to open, allowing his tongue inside my now watering mouth.
Tuning out the world around us, he kisses me. The beautiful moment goes on and on, even past all the cheers and hollers. Further past the tsking and barking of Amber, and just past seventeen minutes, where we get to actually finish out our dance. The song ends and he pulls his lips away from mine. It takes him bringing me back to a standing position to make me finally peel my eyelids open. His beautiful smiling face comes into full view once the lightness fades.
“Now that was a kiss.”
“And just think about how good the post-party is going to be now,” he brags.
Handsome, cocky bastard.
IT’S A NO-BRAINER THAT by the end of the night, I’m going to trip over this tail.
“All right, Pippa, this is the last house, so make it count,” Ian coaches as she runs up the steps past the glowing pumpkins and Halloween decorations.
We watch together as she stretches her little arms to reach the doorbell and away the ding sounds. She bounces back and forth on her little feet, waiting for Mrs. Crawford to open the door. Before the poor old lady has a chance to greet her, Pippa is shouting at the top of her lungs. “Tick-o-tweet!”
“Oh, my sweet child,” Mrs. Crawford greets her. “You sure do work for your candy now.”
Next to me, I hear a chuckle from Ian, or should I say Prince Eric. After a very intense battle with Pippa, I negotiated a truce where Ian agreed to compromise and dress up as Prince Eric instead of Pippa’s initial demand that all three of us spend Halloween as Disney princesses. Thankfully we’re at the last house on the block so our ears can take a siesta from Pippa’s screaming candy request.
Failing to grasp the one candy per kid policy, Pippa takes a man-sized fistful of sugar and throws it into her bucket. She thanks Mrs. Crawford and takes off down the steps.
“Be careful, Pip. You don’t want to trip over your tail.” I offer the warning because I’ve done it twice now myself. The first time Ian thankfully caught me before I met dirt. The second, not so much, and I’m sure I’ll be sporting a few bumps and a huge scrape on my dignity for all eternity.
Walking, or shall I say slowly jogging, behind a racing Pippa, we make it back to the house, calling it a night before the sun fully goes down and trick or treat time expires.
You probably want to know what’s been going on to bring us to Halloween. Well, it would be my pleasure to fill you in. After the dance, Ian proved to be the best date ever and did exactly what is expected after a dance. And that’s to take your date to the unknown. After putting a very exhausted Pippa down, Ian showed me, or should I say my craving body, just how much it was appreciated. He guaranteed that no matter what ups and downs we have, love will always overrule any doubts. It’s been three months and my body is still buzzing at his proclamation.
Our new life together has been one for the record books. People honestly underestimate the power of love. It truly can carry you through any good and bad times in life. The three of us are learning to become a family. One that shares stories of happy childhoods and memories. One that paints pictures of memories of missed loved ones and bakes cookies to soothe the somber heart. And the one that learns to grow and accept the present and look forward to the future.
We have good and bad days with Pippa missing her parents and we do our best to support her through them. Visiting the cemetery on a regular basis helps her connect with the two people who brought her into this world. After the nightmare incidents at preschool, we’ve been on a better track with the school. Ms. Davenport sends Pippa home with daily reports so we’re aware of her setbacks and how we can help at home. We also took the step of going to a child counselor to make sure she was coping, because let’s be honest, the brain of a four-year-old is mind boggling and we wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything that she silently felt.
Ian and I decided together to keep Amy and John’s house. We felt it was best not to change the only home that Pippa knows, and this way, she can still feel close to her parents. The hard part with that decision was the cleaning out of old memories to make room for new ones. It was time, but we had to start moving us into the master bedroom and packing up some of Amy and John’s things. Ian had left for the day to get some new bedding for the master suite and took Pippa along. When he returned home half a day later, he found an empty jug of Pinot Noir and me drunk as a skunk sitting in my sister’s closet, sobbing while blaring out random slurred song lyrics. While digging through her personal things, I ran across a box labeled Amy’s personal stuff. Among the valuables, I found a CD from our favorite band as kids. It took both of us saving to go in and purchase it. I remember her skipping lunch some days just to get the money to help us get closer to our goal. Once we had enough, we raced from school to the local CD mart and bought it. We ran even faster home to throw it in our old CD player and listened to it day and night. We could both recite each song word for word without even taking a breath of air. It didn’t help that I found the CD stashed in the same box that contained Amy’s journal. And by journal, I mean a straight bullet to the heart.
Apparently, Amy was also a talented writer because every word spread across the pages of her journal came to life and told a story. Page after page, as if I was right there with her, living her life and feeling love, happiness but also sadness and loneliness. It wasn’t easy to read about her grief for the absence of her sister. She missed me terribly. She wrote about the years of following my career and how proud she was of me. With the turning of some pages, newspaper articles would slip from the creases, unfolding into articles of the gallery. Of me.
I will admit I skipped the inserts of our mother’s passing. I couldn’t bring myself to read those. One day I will. Ian’s words convinced me that I had to let go of my anger to move on and I know he’s right. I have to forgive a woman who was truly sick. Alcoholism is a serious illness many people suffer from. Spending time at the center helped me realize that being so hateful wouldn’t bring back a childhood I wished I had. It won’t erase the hardships or the abuse we both suffered. He helped me believe that I can still forgive and move on with a life that promises a happy ending.
I obviously put in my resignation at the gallery. It was tough because Cornelius didn’t go down without a fight, making me some pretty tempting offers. Unfortunately for him, money just wasn’t important to me anymore. Nor did I need it.
Lexi cried like a baby when I broke it to her that I wasn’t returning. I was her partner in crime, so it’s legit she’d be upset. I gave her an open-door invitation to come and visit whenever she wanted.
At least she wasn’t too upset at my leaving the gallery since she’s my replacement there. Besides having a soft side for Lexi’s long legs, Cornelius agreed she’d be the asset I suggested. If you remember in the beginning of this crazy story of my so-called life, I mentioned how awesome I was at what I did. Well, that still stands. Cornelius refused to lose his golden-egg-laying goose entirely, so we worked out a pretty sweet deal. I’m now a part-time consultant scouting potential new artists for the gallery via the Internet. I use my famous eye and identify fresh talent, and then Lexi sinks her hungry teeth into the next best thing and signs them for a showing. Easy peasy. I still have a stake in doing what I love and at the same time, I’m setting down roots in forever-ever land with Ian and Pippa. In the end, I did get to have my cake and eat it too. And it is delish.
I spend most workdays at the center. My official job title is Instructional Art Coach. Sounds fancy, I know. I brought all I’ve learned about art to the center, and since the day we made my position official, I’ve been working day and night to start up a scholarship program for the kids. I named it the
Ever Amy Fund, aka EAF. It’s this simple: kids interested in pursuing careers in art attend special classes and work hard. We assist kids who are less fortunate with college scholarships funded by EAF. Cool, right? Along with the submission of their art portfolios, the center has a writing program that helps with those pesky college admission essays too.
All the money I make from my consulting deal with St. Markey is deposited directly into EAF. It’s also pretty awesome having so many bloody rich contacts through St. Markey, because I have supporters and past clients matching me dollar for dollar. Funds are pouring in for the cause. As of today, EAF has enough money to send almost seven kids to college next fall. Pretty impressive, right? Even Amber actually had nice to things to say about it.
It isn’t public knowledge yet, but Greg was just accepted into the School of Art at the University of Washington, full ride thanks to EAF. I think I may have seen Ian shed some tears at Greg’s good news. He, of course, claimed fairy dust.
Oh, and speaking of Amber, she’s been busy. It was no shocker she wasn’t on board with the newest Prevention Center employee. That’s me. She stuck to her word and ran my references and a background check. When her search came up clean—no drug or criminal record in sight—disappointment would be describing her reaction lightly. With no other recourse, she had to learn to accept me. In time, her breasts began to deflate and she was back to wearing her sneakers. Take away her Ian obsession and she is a great asset to the center. Ian admitted that as persistent as her pursuit got over the years, he just didn’t want to see the center lose a great employee. Last I checked, Amber was dating online in hopes of replacing Ian. We both wish her well.
All in all, life has been what you would call . . . well, perfect. Hey, a girl can brag, can’t she? If you had a man who worships you from the moment he wakes for the day to the moment his eyes close at night, you would shout it from the rooftops.
I finally make it into the house clear of biff number three, not that it didn’t nearly happen. Once we make it over the threshold, Pippa storms past me, practically barreling over me, running into her room with her bag. Prince Eric, luckily, catches me as if he saw it coming. Carrying me over to the couch, he sits with me in his lap, tucking my fin across the couch. “How poetic. In the land of fairy tales the prince once again saves the princess,” I tease, as he bends forward placing his lips to mine. Ahh, this will never get old.
“Princess in training,” he reminds me between pecks.
“I haven’t heard that Pippa has given you the official certificate yet.” We both laugh into each other’s mouth.
Pippa, my little princess, has made it her official duty to teach me everything there is to know about becoming a true princess. Our new routine consists of getting up earlier so Pippa can do my hair and makeup in the mornings, which also requires enough time for me to fix it back to normal on the way to work. The makeup sometimes stays and I use it as an expressional artistic statement. That and because the wipes won’t get it all off.
“Well, when I do become official, you better watch out, buddy. I’m gonna be unstoppable, unbearable, and very demanding.” I mean, what else would I be as head princess?
“Well, I look forward to the demanding part, then.”
Seriously, even without water, he’s got this fish all wet.
Thankfully, my phone buzzing saves me from any sort of embarrassment. I pull my phone from its nest in my cleavage—since Ariel technically doesn’t have pockets in her fin—and check the display. Lexi’s goofy face pops and I smile.
“Happy Halloween, hoochie,” I chuckle into the phone.
“Hey, hoe smoocher! Watcha doin? What’s going on over there? Anything I should know?”
I laugh. “Umm, well, we just got back from taking Pip trick or treating. Gonna chill out for a bit first, then probably make some dinner that doesn’t consist of something in a candy wrapper.”
“Oh, so you just got home, shit. Okay. Sorry. Um. I gotta go, I think I just heard my doorbell. I’ll call you back.” And with that, she hangs up on me.
“Well, that was strange.” I pull the phone away and place it back into my bra.
“What was?” Ian inquires, brushing his lips to my shoulder.
“Lexi. She was just acting way strange. Not that it’s too early for her to be drinking or anything, but still. She asked what I was doing, then got all weird and said she had to go and hung up on me.”
“Hmm,” is all Ian responds with as he moves his trail of kisses up my neck.
“I’m ready!” a barreling Pippa runs into the living room, costume gone. Favorite purple princess dress intact.
“For what, honey?”
“For you to check my candy! I need you to check my candy!” she yells at me.
Geesh, kid. I look at Ian for a little help here. I’m also still in child training. Possibly maybe for eternity.
“Babe, you have to check her candy to make sure she can eat everything that’s in there.”
Ohhh! I get it. The whole stranger danger sorta thing. Got it.
“No prob, Pip,” I chirp, flipping my fin to the ground. Ian, behind me, unzips my tail and I shuffle out of it. “All right, let’s see what sort of goods you got us all.” I stand and Pippa takes her bowl and dumps it all over the coffee table, splattering candy all over the top, spilling on all sides. “Man, Pip, you made out,” I praise as I start searching through her haul.
Man, things never change when it comes to Halloween candy. People always give out way too much candy corn and not enough Twizzlers, and there’s always that one random item in the bin that makes you wish you remembered which house gave it out so you didn’t waste time ringing the doorbell next year. I mean who wants toothbrushes or dental floss? It’s Halloween, for heck’s sake.
I rummage through the Dots, which I plan on sneaking for myself later. Snickers, safe. Smarties, questionable. Gotta check on that choking hazard thing. I’m doing a stellar job at organizing Snickers from Milky Ways when I spot it. “Oh no, honey. I think someone’s ring must have fallen off when they were dropping candy in your bag.” I pick it up and investigate the beautiful ring. I turn to show Ian but he’s moved from his original position. He’s now behind me. And he is kneeling.
I gasp.
Then I swear.
Then I gasp again. He brings his hand to my frozen one and takes the ring out of my grip. He places my hands into his warm hold and kisses the top of my knuckles.
“Ian, what are you doing?” I barely breathe out.
“I told you before, the heart knows what the heart wants, and mine only wants one thing.” He takes his thumb and brushes it against my bottom lip that is clearly hanging open.
“Christina Anne Daniels.” Holy shit, he’s using full names. “Since before I even knew how to feel, I felt you inside my soul. The day I set eyes on you in that cafeteria, you melted my heart. You gave me purpose. And no matter what tore us apart, I knew I was always destined to be with you and spend my entire life loving every piece of you. I know with all my heart that you are my soul mate. My destiny. My one. I can’t kneel here and tell you how much I love you because I don’t believe there’s a strong enough word to explain what we have. It’s just too big to define. It’s only something you and I can show, and I believe we do it every single day. You’re someone I never want to be a day without.” He takes a moment to wipe away the tears streaming down my face. “I want to love you until I don’t have a single breath left. And when that time comes, I will tell you how much you’ve made me whole. Please. Please make me a happy man and tell me that you’ll say yes and spend the rest of your life as my wife, being loved, cherished and perfect.”
My hands are shaking uncontrollably as I watch him slide the ring onto my finger. As we both stare at how perfectly the ring fits, he brings my hands to his mouth for a kiss.
I try and speak but my throat is broken. I think he broke me. I love him. I love us and I love what we’ve become. Every day we will be something more perfe
ct that only we can define. He is truly the other half of me and without him I wouldn’t be able to truly live.
“Chrissy, if there is any time that I beg of you to speak your mind out loud, it’s right now. ’Cause you’re killing me, making me wait.”
I look at those beautiful shiny greens.
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank you.” He stands quickly, picking me up.
“She said yes! She said yes!” I hear Pippa shouting in the background as Ian swings me around laughing.
“She sure did, Pip.” Ian beams at her. Then in a softer tone, he looks straight at me and says, “She sure did.”
“I love you,” I say.
“And if there was a word to describe how I feel for you I would use it. So for right now I will just say love. But I want you to know that word is mediocre compared to what I truly feel inside.” As my sigh is heard around the world, my last thought is that I guess in this so-called life, happily-ever-afters do exist. .
I can probably make my thank you list longer than the book itself. Writing is hard and you need the support of so many people to get through the easy and hard parts. I will always thank my husband for dealing with my crazy self. It’s not easy being married to someone who lives half the time in their head. So thank you for giving me the time to do what I love. You will forever be my favorite human. Thank you to the many others who listen to me gripe through the whole process. Nicole Blanchard who has my hand print memorized as she’s held my hand throughout my whole process. The editing teams, Karen Dale Harris and Hot Tree Editing. Amazing people who gave me insight that I loved and enjoyed! When people can take your work and dissect it while making you laugh and cry at the same time is pure talent.
A HUGE shout out to my Love Not Included street team. The people who pride in my work enough to brag about me day and night. You are the people who rock hard. And lastly my fans. You humble me. The feedback. The support. Every single response I receive is a step in the right direction for me. So thank you for being a huge stepping stone for me. Life is tough. And you make it easier to be me.
My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) Page 24
