by Farlow, LK
Tatum crawls onto my lap and hugs us both. “Yeah, Mama. Say ‘yes.’”
I nod. “Yes! Oh, God, yes!” The three of us stay on the hall floor wrapped in an embrace until the sound of Alden’s parents’ muffled tears remind me that we’re not alone.
I’m the first to pull back, pressing a chaste kiss to Alden’s lips, followed by one to Tatum’s cheek before standing. After a round of hugs and a few more tears, I stand and loop the apron around my neck and tie it at my back.
“Oh, one more thing!” Alden exclaims, sliding his hand into his pocket, retrieving a small velvet box. “The ring!” He flips open the lid, revealing the most beautiful emerald cut cushioned yellow sapphire on a platinum band encrusted with tiny little diamonds. It’s truly breathtaking.
Alden takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. A whole new bout of tears starts—this is every childhood dream I ever had, coming full circle. “I love you with every ounce of my being, Alden Warner.”
He grins and takes my hand in his. “I love you too, soon to be Mrs. Warner.” He reaches down and ruffles Tatum’s hair. “Now, let’s go score some candy.”
Epilogue
Alden
Two Years Later
“I look like a whale!” Natalie laments from behind the closed bathroom door.
I smirk, knowing damn well she does not look like a whale. Her belly is barely rounded with our second child—a boy. She looks sumptuous and glowing and so damn sexy I can hardly stand it.
“Open the door and let me see.”
I hear her huff. “No. You’ll just tell me I’m beautiful.”
“That’s because you are beautiful.”
“Ugh! Alden!”
She sounds so frustrated, and like the ass I am, I smile. Thank God she can’t see me. “Small Fry. You’re the love of my life, and, to me, you’ll always be beautiful. Even when you’re wrinkly with gray hair and tits that sag to your belly button.”
She laughs, and my chest swells with pride. The only sound on earth that comes close to comparing is Tatum’s giggle. “Okay, fine. I’m coming out.”
She steps out. As predicted, I’m right. She looks like a goddess. Her hair is styled in those waves that all guys love because they look like sex hair. Her makeup is muted, except her lips, which are a bold red. The flowy, champagne-colored dress she’s wearing hugs her chest, pushing up her breasts, and glides over her belly. It’s long enough that the hemline touches the floor, but knowing her, she’s going to rock some ungodly heels that I’ll undoubtedly imagine digging into my back all night long.
“Well?” she asks, nibbling on her candy-apple bottom lip.
I fist my hands at my side to stop myself from touching her. I know if I don’t keep my hands to myself, I’ll destroy her carefully crafted look, and since Tatum’s with a sitter, it’s an all too real possibility.
“You…you look—” My words fail me.
“Oh, God. You’re right. I can’t show up to Nate’s engagement party looking like this!”
She turns to lock herself back in the bathroom, but I stop her. “You look so far beyond amazing. There’s literally not a word to describe it.”
She pivots back to face me. “Really?”
“Really, really. Hell, you look so radiant we may have to worry about you upstaging the bride to be.”
Her stress visibly melts away, and she steps closer to me, bringing her left hand up to my cheek. The sparkling rock on her ring finger catches the light just right, and my mind races back to the day we said ‘I do.’ It’s mind-blowing to think our one-year anniversary is just around the corner.
But that’s kind of how life works, isn’t it? It’s crazy and messy and chaotic and nothing like I thought it would be. The universe took my best-laid plans and turned them upside down and now…now life’s better than I ever thought it could be.
The End.
Keep reading for a preview of Rebel Heart by LK Farlow
Rebel Heart
AJ
No.
Such an amazing little word. Magical, really. Just two little letters, but when put together they’re packed with so much power. “No, I will not share my food with you.” I say that one every time I go out with Stacia, my best and only true friend. “No, you may not use my study guide.” This one goes out to all the jocks in my classes. Seriously, taking notes isn’t that hard—it requires nothing more than pen, paper, and a brain. “No, you may not have my number.” Might as well tattoo that one to my forehead, and at this point, what’s one more piece of ink? “No, I don’t want to meet for drinks.” Not now, not ever, stop asking, I typically add on silently. “No, I don’t want to tell you about my tattoo. And no, you sure as shit can’t touch it.” That’s right up there with feeling up baby bumps and bald heads.
And, now, I’m using my favorite two letter word to tell my British Literature professor, “No, I will not tutor some jock so that he can maintain his eligibility.”
“I’m not asking, AJ.” Professor Doss informs me, looking at me over the rim of her turquoise cat-eye glasses.
“What do you mean you’re not asking?”
“I’m telling. He needs the help, and you have the knowledge. You should know, more than anyone, not to judge a book by its cover.” Cue imaginary eye roll. Yeah, yeah, with my plethora of piercings, vibrant tattoos, cotton candy hair, and overall bad attitude I really shouldn’t judge others. But, an athlete? No thanks. I think I’d rather get a root canal.
“Telling? Why?” I ask, my patience wearing thin.
“Telling because we both know you have the time and if you want a recommendation letter from me, this what it’s going to take to acquire one. Take it or leave it, your call.”
Professor Doss’s words cause me to wince, because dammit, she’s got my arm twisted behind my back—metaphorically, of course. I don’t just want her letter, I need it if I want a real shot at getting an internship with Booking Out—a not for profit childhood literacy program. She was a project kick starter for them and her opinion carries weight.
With a long, heavy sigh, I give Professor Doss a terse nod causing her to break out into a bright, toothy smile. “Good choice. I’ll give him your student email and he’ll be in contact.”
“Yippie,” I mutter, sounding as unenthused as possible.
* * *
Agitated, I quickly dash across campus to the café to meet Stacia. I breeze through the double doors fifteen minutes past the time we agreed on and knowing her, she’s about to let me have it.
I forgo the order counter and make my way to our table in the far corner. “You’re late,” Stacia points out, just like I knew she would.
“Yup, sorry. Doss held me up,” I explain and she huffs out a breath that scatters her wispy black bangs.
“Ugh. What for?”
“Apparently if I want her letter of recommendation I have to tutor some beefcake athlete.”
Stacia blinks her big, brown doe eyes at me and straightens her septum ring before bursting out into raucous laughter. I glare at her, wholly unamused. “Oh, my God, AJ. That’s amazing.”
“Check a dictionary. Amazing is not the word you’re looking for.”
“No babe, it really is.”
“How so?” I demand, stealing her iced latte from where it was resting on the table in front of her.
She snatches it back. “Get your own.” Slowly, she gulps down several swallows before continuing. “And, it’s amazing because it will provide endless entertainment for me.”
“You’re a bitch,” I tell her and she just laughs all the harder. “Whatevs. I’m out.” I stand from the table and sling my crossbody over my shoulder.
“You know you love me!” Stacia yells dramatically as I walk away from our table. Glancing back at her, I shoot her a wink and carry on my way.
* * *
It’s ten o’clock and I’m deep into the paper I’m writing when the email notification on my laptop dings alerting me to a new message. I click s
ave on my paper and switch over my web browser. My inbox shows one new message from B.Larson.
From: B.Larson@EndersU
To: A.Adams2@EndersU
Subject: Tutoring
Hey AJ,
Professor Doss gave me your email address and told me to reach out to you about tutoring. I’m available on Tuesdays and Thursdays at five. Meet me at the library.
-Brock
No, no, no, no. There’s that word again. Except this time, it’s a prayer. A down-on-my-knees-begging-I’m-wrong kind of prayer. Brock fucking Larson. The bane of my existence since age twelve. I blink at my screen in a daze. It can’t be. I reread the email at least six more times, desperately hoping for his name to magically change.
In a panic, I grab my phone and dial Stacia. She knows all about Brock and our stupid, sordid past—if you can even call it that. Like a good girl, she answers on the first ring.
“Knew you still loved me, AJ.”
“Always, but not the point. Brock Larson. Please, please tell me there are two Brock Larson’s enrolled here.”
“No can do, babe. Only one, why?” Her question is met with silence. I’m petrified that speaking it aloud will make it true—well, truer. Luckily, Stacia’s a smart girl and figures it out all on her own. “Oh no, way. You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish I was.”
“Sucks balls, AJ. That sucks balls.”
“Donkey ones,” I lament.
“You’re just gonna have to put on your big girl panties and deal with it. This letter is more than worth dealing with his particular brand of BS.”
I run my fingers though my cotton candy colored locks and sigh into the phone. “Ugh. You’re right. Promise you’ll help keep me sane?” I ask, all but begging.
“Duh. Now, go to sleep. Worry about tomorrow’s problems tomorrow.”
I disconnect the call and place my phone on its charging dock before shutting down my laptop. With one more long, drawn out sigh, I let my head hit the pillow hoping for sleep to come quickly.
Rebel Heart
FREE IN KINDLE UNLIMITED
* * *
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Other titles by LK Farlow
Coming Up Roses
An Uphill Battle
Weather the Storm
Acknowledgments
To my nutsicles…you two are my people. Y’all get me a freaking spiritual level. I’m not going to get mushy here, because gross. But just know, I love y’all so damn much. #Tripod4Life
Joy, I lurve you. That is all.
Jodie, I love our talks. Especially the ones that involve your kids saying, “You’re talking to Kate? Again?”
Dani, I love you big. You’re one the kindest ladies I know and I’m so blessed to call you a friend. WE WILL MEET SOON!
Jennifer Van Wyk, NEVER LEAVE ME! BE MY FRIEND FOREVER! Just saying.
Kiezha, you’re too good to me. You take all of my crazy and make me feel sane. Thank you for putting up with me.
Ellie McLove, just like I’m not allowed to quit you, you can’t quit me.
Jules, you’re like this amazing mind reading genius. You always take my vague requests and turn them into something incredible.
Harloe, you’re the sweetest ever. Thank you for your friendship.
Danielle R, thank you for letting be needy AF and for letting me blow up your inbox at all hours.
Kathy, I love you and all your Aussie slang. <3 Your notes always makes me teary.
Allyson, I’m so glad you found me!
To all my DND babes, <3 <3
And most of all, to the bloggers and readers who pick up my books…THANK YOU! SERIOUSLY, THANK YOU! Your support is everything to me.
About the Author
LK Farlow (A.K.A Kate) is a small town girl with a love for words. She’s been writing stories and poems for as long she can remember. A Southern girl through and through, Kate resides in beautiful, sunny LA—that’s Lower Alabama, y’all—with her amazing husband and three wonderful children. When she’s not writing, you can find her snuggled up on the couch watching nature documentaries while she crochets or with her nose in a book. All Kate really wants in this life is her family happy, strong coffee, a good book and more Happily Ever After’s.
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