His Eternal Flame

by Valentine, Layla

  Brushing some of her loose hair from her face, she looks over to me.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Not thinking,” I quietly say. “Just…”

  “Feeling?” She grins.

  “Exactly.”

  She comes to me at the same moment I reach for her, slipping into my arms like she was made for them. And, apparently, she was. It just took me a long time to figure that out.

  Holding Violet in front of me, I wrap my arms around her waist and rest my head against hers. Behind us, the people we love talk and laugh, their joy filling our home with promises of even more happiness to come. In front of us, the ocean shimmers with the setting sun and a future designed for us.

  The End

  * * *

  What will the next two years bring for Sean and Violet?

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  Epilogue

  Violet

  Two Years Later

  Kaila wiggles against my hands as I tie the bow in the back of her dress.

  “Quit squirming,” I instruct.

  “Sorry,” she huffs. “I’m just nervous. Were you this nervous? Is it okay?”

  “It’s normal,” I laugh. “Here. All done. Let’s see.”

  Kaila turns around, and we both inspect her reflection in the full-length mirror. The wedding dress is a more traditional one, with a high collar and a veil. The location—the church Kaila’s parents also got married in—is also a traditional spot. In fact, most everything about the wedding is traditional.

  Except for the groom. Now he is very unique, indeed.

  “Frank is going to lose his mind when he sees you,” I promise her. “Don’t be surprised if he passes out right in front of the altar.”

  Kaila flushes at the mention of her husband-to-be. Even though it’s been two years since they started dating, I still find their relationship hard to believe. Apparently, opposites really do attract.

  And as for Frank’s wild style in bed, surprise, surprise: according to Kaila, she absolutely loves it. So, there go all my prior fears that he would break my sweet friend like a twig.

  “Cat!” a squeaky voice shouts.

  Kaila and I both turn around to see Leo pointing at a fuzzy pillow on the couch. The picture books and toy trucks I gave him for entertainment long forgotten, he stares at the pillow in reverence. We both laugh.

  “Cat?” Kaila asks.

  “He’s obsessed with them now,” I explain.

  “What?” Kaila pretends to freak out, and Leo laughs. “Leo, I thought you were gonna be a dog person, like Aunt Kaila!”

  “Pretty kitty,” he says, getting up and toddling over to the couch so he can pet the pillow. Realizing it’s not alive, he frowns in confusion. “Cat?” he asks. “Where kitty?”

  “It’s a pillow, honey,” I tell him.

  “Cat hair?” he asks, eyes going wide.

  “No,” I shake my head. “It’s all fake fur.”

  A knock on the door interrupts our second bout of laughter.

  Kaila’s mom sticks her head in the room. “Are we almost ready in here?”

  My best friend and I exchange a look.

  “You’ve got this,” I promise her.

  She takes a deep breath and nods.

  “Come on, Leo,” Kaila’s mom tells him, hoisting him onto her hip. “Let’s tell them we’re ready to go and get our seats.”

  I give Kaila’s hand another squeeze and we go out into the short hallway that leads into the nave. The first song begins, and the flower girl, Kaila’s cousins, who are the other two bridesmaids, and I proceed down the aisle. My eyes sweep across the area, not stopping until they find Sean, who’s standing next to Frank. He gives me a little wave, and my heart does a jig.

  As I take my spot across from the guys, my own wedding two years ago comes back to me. I had assumed I would never be as happy as I was that one day; as it turns out, life with Sean has given me plenty of moments that give our wedding day a run for its money.

  The wedding march begins, and the guests all rise. Down the aisle comes Kaila, the perfect picture of a blushing bride. As she and Frank face each other and say their vows, my eyes float over to my husband.

  Over the last few years, I’ve had the sense that everything happening in our lives was pre-written. We have destinies that are bigger than we ever could have imagined. Standing here, wearing a ring from my one best friend while watching my other best friend marry my first best friend’s best friend… Yeah. My mind is more than a little blown.

  With the kiss, the chapel erupts in applause. Frank and Kaila rush down the aisle, hands locked, and we all stream out behind them.

  Outside, the sun shines and the birds sing on one of the most perfect days of the year. Everyone gathers around, talking and hugging the newlyweds. When it’s my turn, I pass Leo back over to my mom and yank Frank and Kaila into a three-way hug.

  “Hurt her and you’re dead,” I whisper into Frank’s ear.

  He gives me that special, saucy grin.

  “I’ll only hurt her in the best way possible,” he quietly answers.

  Kaila’s hand claps over her mouth. “Frank! We’re in front of a church.”

  “You love it really,” he murmurs, wrapping his arm around her waist.

  According to the blush on her face, she certainly does.

  “Picture!” someone calls from behind me. I turn around and the three of us smile.

  “My cheeks hurt from smiling,” Kaila whispers.

  Frank pinches one. “Oh, yeah?” he asks in an excited voice.

  Her lashes flutter. “Yeah,” she heavily breathes.

  “You guys,” I laugh. “Save it for the wedding night.”

  “What are we talking about?” a velvety-smooth voice asks.

  Sean loops his arm around my waist and steps in close to me. I let my weight fall back against him as he kisses the side of my head.

  “How wild Frank has made Kaila,” I explain.

  Sean chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Of course.”

  “Soo,” Kaila slowly says. “We have some news, and we wanted to wait until you were both here to share it.”

  Frank glows, and I quickly glance at Sean, but he looks just as puzzled as I am. Has he told them about our own update?

  Kaila’s lips purse as she tries but fails to check a smile.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” I shriek. “No!”

  She nods, letting the smile finally spread across her face. “Uh-huh!”

  I look to Frank, just to confirm this is happening, and find he’s also smiling big.

  “Congratulations,” I say, stepping forward and hugging Kaila. “I can’t believe this,” I add as I step away.

  “I know, right?” She nods. “And we thought about not telling you today—”

  “But why wait?” Frank asks.

  “Exactly.” She smiles at him as he lifts her hand and kisses it.

  “Actually,” I clarify, “I can’t believe it, because we have the same news to share.”

  They both stare at me in confusion.

  “Huh?” Kaila asks.

  I catch Sean’s eye again, and this time he nods, encouraging me to go on.

  “I’m pregnant again,” I announce.

  Kaila’s mouth drops and Frank lets out a loud whoop that makes several wedding guests look over in surprise.

  “No,” Kaila gasps.

  “Yes,” I promise.

  She grabs both my hands in hers.

  “Oh my gosh! This is crazy! Did you tell your parents yet? Does Leo know? What are you going to tell him about where babies come from? How many weeks?”

  “About eight,” I say, choosing to answer the other questions later, when we have more time to talk.

  “I’m ten,” she sings. “Yay!”

  “I know, right?” I laugh, squeezing her hands.

  “I’m worried about how Mr.
Mochi is going to take it,” Frank announces, his brow folded in worry. “I read that some dogs can get offended when a new baby comes into the house.”

  “Don’t worry, honey,” Kaila assures him. “We’ll introduce the baby slowly.”

  Sean chuckles close to my ear, and I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing: Frank has a gentle side, after all.

  Just wait till their baby comes. I bet a million dollars that man will treat his son or daughter like the most precious thing in the world.

  “Congrats, man,” Sean says, shaking Frank’s hand and clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you.” His voice cracks at the end.

  “Thanks,” Frank says, and I can’t help but notice he’s blinking an awful lot.

  Kaila and I smile at each other. Our big, strong men. Gruff on the outside, softies on the inside.

  I wouldn’t have them any other way.

  They break apart, both looking slightly self-conscious over the show of emotion.

  “Don’t worry,” Sean tells Frank. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know about being a dad—just like I taught you everything about shooting.”

  “Hey there,” Frank grumbles. “You didn’t teach me everything. I figured a few things out on my own.”

  “I taught you how to hit the mark with the first shot.” Sean casually drapes his arm over my shoulder, and we all get what he’s saying.

  “Okay,” I interrupt, holding my hands up. “Guys, this isn’t a competition.”

  “It’s always a competition for them.” Kaila rolls her eyes.

  “True.” I drop my hands. “I give up.”

  “Kaila!” an older woman calls as she hurries over.

  I give Kaila one last, quick hug. “We’ll talk soon.”

  With Sean’s hand in mine, we mosey around the side of the chapel, giving our best friends more time to meet with their guests. The trees’ shadows dance across the lawn where Leo is playing with both his grandmas. Sean and I stop to watch the three of them for a moment, and I’m struck by the same crazy realization that keeps coming back, time and time again.

  “Do you think this was all meant to be?” I quietly ask.

  Sean turns to face me straight-on, wearing a thoughtful look. “Me and you?”

  “All of this.” I wave my hand at the scene around us. Our moms. Our friends. Our child. “My mother and your mother have been friends for years. And me and you…me and Kaila…you and Frank…”

  “I think you just answered your own question. It all kind of makes a perfect circle, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  I look up into his emerald-green eyes. Their depths suck me in, holding me securely and promising everything I need to hear.

  For so many years, I thought I needed to do everything on my own. Grow up on my own. Start a business on my own. Start a family on my own. And for a long time, I followed that route, thinking that fierce independence was the only choice I had, thinking I was perpetually alone.

  It took Sean shaking things up for me to see that that was never the case at all. I have always been, and will always be, surrounded by vast amounts of support. The thing is, I let past pains stop me from seeing it. I let the disappointment over my dad and relationships with other men—even the disappointment over my relationship with my mom—color the way I saw everything.

  Looking at my life, now, I’m blown away by how blind I was. The truth is better than I ever thought it could be. I want to climb to the highest mountain and sing about it. I want to reflect it with every word and action I create for the rest of my life.

  “What are you thinking?” Sean asks, delicately trailing his finger along my cheek.

  I turn my face into his opening palm.

  “There are words,” I slowly answer. “But they don’t really suffice.”

  He nods, understanding.

  “Do you think there’s a time when everything makes sense?” I ask.

  Sean thinks about that. “What do you mean?”

  I lick my lips, still trying to string the right words together.

  “I mean, a time when it’s like your eyes really open for the first time…and you see that everything that’s happened, even all the pain, all the loss…it’s all beautiful in a way? And it was all a gift, because it’s brought you to this very moment?”

  Sean’s eyes look straight through mine, seeing into the depths of my soul.

  “I’ve been living in that time for the past three years.”

  My heart melts, and I can’t respond.

  Luckily, I don’t have to. Sean has me in his arms, his lips lowering to mine. As he kisses me like this is the best moment to have ever existed, I realize in my heart that it is exactly that.

  The End

  Theirs To Share

  Layla Valentine & Ana Sparks

  Ready to go again?

  Mine and Ana’s previous MFM romance, Theirs to Share, is up next!

  Copyright 2018 by Layla Valentine and Ana Sparks

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part by any means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the explicit written permission of the author.

  All characters depicted in this fictional work are consenting adults, of at least eighteen years of age. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, particular businesses, events, or exact locations are entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  “Come on, come on.”

  Squeezing my fingers around my oversized satchel bag, I tap my heel against the floor of the elevator. The anxious tic does nothing to speed things up.

  It’s my second week at my first, real adult job. My sixth day. And I’m ten minutes late.

  I check the time on my wristwatch, noting the painful tick of the second hand. Finally, finally the door opens with a ding.

  Throwing myself onto the sixth floor of the building, which houses the main offices of the Franciscan Tribune, I rush past the shiny front desk and down the hallway. Phones ring, keyboards click, and reporters, editors, and interns exhale headlines like oxygen. It’s the kind of atmosphere I thrive on. It’s what I’ve been spending my whole life looking forward to.

  It’s why I can’t screw this up.

  Reaching my tiny cubicle in the open-working space, I collapse into my swivel chair and deposit my purse on the carpet. If I’m lucky, no one saw me come in late. If I’m even luckier, no one cares.

  Powering up my computer, I surreptitiously scan the room. No one so much as looks my way.

  Thank God.

  No sooner have I let out a relieved exhale, though, than I feel someone hovering nearby.

  “Good morning, Noelle,” comes the clipped voice.

  It’s Graham, my editor. He leans against the fragile cubicle wall, his striped tie falling over the divide. Every muscle in my body freezes.

  “Good morning.” I force a smile. Did he see me come in late?

  “You look nice today.”

  The way he says it, it sounds like an insult.

  I glance down at my cream-colored pencil skirt, polka-dot blouse, and red heels. There’s nothing inappropriate about my outfit… At least I don’t think so.

  But maybe I’m wrong. Four years of college and a year waiting tables didn’t exactly prepare me to dress for success. And it’s street fashion blogs that I get my ideas from.

  Maybe I’m too creative with my outfits. Maybe they’re too loud. Or my skirts are too tight.

  Or is it my makeup? I shouldn’t have tried out that new smoky eye, dang it! This isn’t a club. This is an office. This is…

  “The boss wants to see you,” Graham says coolly, looking over my head like he’s already bored with me.

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah.” His lips press together. “I know. The elusive Ethan Ford Jr. Who even knew he existed, right?”


  My stomach drops.

  “Do you know why he wants to see me?”

  Also, how does he even know who I am? I’m an underling at the paper, a fledgling reporter whose biggest story so far is an article about the local nut festival—a succinct 400-word piece that ran on the last page of the paper, right next to the advertisement for a carpet cleaning service.

  Graham shrugs. “Didn’t say. But he’s in the boardroom waiting for you.”

  Before I can pump him for any more information, he’s gone, and I’m left staring at my computer screen.

  My hands shake in my lap, and I press them together to get them to stop. Ethan Ford Jr… I’ve done my research on him. He’s a mega-billionaire, born into media royalty. His father, the Ethan Ford most of the world knows best, died several years ago. His son promptly took over most of the family’s assets, including one national paper and numerous smaller ones, the Franciscan Tribune being the most recent one Junior has added to his list.

  Though the internet is mostly composed of stats on Ethan Ford’s business success, the hallways and cubicles of the Franciscan Tribune are filled with something else entirely.

  Callous. Stifled. Pompous.

  Those are the nice adjectives people use to describe Ethan Ford. I’ve never met him myself, but hearing others talk about him hasn’t exactly given me any faith in his possessing a glowing personality.

  Closing my eyes, I take in a long, cleansing breath, then stand. As much as I don’t want to go into that boardroom, delaying it will only make things worse.

  Hugging a fresh notebook and my phone to my chest, I make the too-short trek to the boardroom. Its longest wall is floor-to-ceiling glass, and as I get closer I see the one person in it. His hands are clasped behind his back and he looks out the window, his back turned to me.