Breathing Wisteria

by Rose, Amali

  Suddenly, a booming voice calls out over the quiet murmurings, drawing everyone’s attention.

  “You think I don’t know you’re back there? Get your ass down here, Cherry.”

  Heads swivel in my direction and I note the smiling faces as my gaze sweeps across the crowd to the man who is waiting for me to recommit my life to him.

  “Calm yourself, Irish.” I laugh. “We’ve got forever.”

  Flynn

  Ten Years Later

  The room is quiet, depressingly quiet, and completely in opposition to what I know must be going on through the swinging doors to our right, and down that long, seemingly never-ending, corridor.

  I shift uncomfortably on the hard, plastic chair, my knee bouncing nervously.

  “Stop.”

  Wyatt’s warm hand lands on my knee, squeezing gently and forcing my leg to still.

  “It’s okay, Irish. We’re nearly there, it’s nearly over.” Her small smile is nervous, and I know she’s as anxious as I am. Reaching over, I take hold of her face and bring it to meet mine in a kiss that settles us both. Leaning her head against my own, she sighs deeply.

  The elevator to our left pings open and an older couple exits, walking excitedly past us, a giant bouquet dominated by purple shades of wisteria in the man’s hands. They head down the hallway, guided by the signs on the wall, as memories of my wife sobbing alone, mourning the loss of our daughter crowd out the excitement from my mind, filling it with anxiety.

  I don’t get nervous often. I can only think of two occasions. The first, twenty years ago when we stood in a tiny chapel getting ready to commit to each other for the rest of our lives. I was sure she would come to her senses and make a run for it and I was ready to chase.

  The second was ten years ago when I thought I was going to lose her again.

  Right here, right now I am just as fearful. This moment has been years in the making. We’ve struggled through the lowest of the lows to get here but we made it, together, and today we finally get to experience the highest of the highs.

  If only we can make it through the next few hours.

  Wyatt’s phone goes off for the millionth time drawing a groan of frustration.

  “I wish we had something to tell them.”

  “Shut it off. They can suffer update-free just like w—”

  I’m cut off by the sound of the doors swinging open and a nurse strides out, heading straight for us. Wyatt jumps up, but I can’t seem to make my legs work, so I remain sitting, my chest tightening while I wait for the news.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Maguire?”

  “Yes, that’s us. Is it over?” Wyatt trips over her words, anxious to be soothed by this stranger.

  “It is. Congratulations, guys, it’s a girl. You have a daughter.”

  A breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me and I slump forward, elbows on knees, face in hands.

  Wyatt rushes the woman, squealing excitedly and wraps her up in a hug much to the amusement of the seasoned nurse.

  Abruptly pulling back, Wyatt sobers. “And, Sammi? She’s okay? She hasn’t—” She chokes up, because we’ve been here before. So close to completing our family, only to have it ripped right out from under us.

  The woman, whose name tag reads Heather, smiles warmly at us.

  “Sammi is fine, she’s been taken to recovery and she’ll be ready to go home in a day or two. She’s already said her goodbye to the baby and asked me to tell you one thing.”

  I find my feet and surge up, wrapping Wyatt in my arms protectively and I feel her tense under me.

  “What did she want to tell us?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

  “She wanted you to know that she’s so happy she chose you.”

  Rivulets of tears slide along Wyatt’s cheeks and I pull her in to me, her face nuzzling my neck as years of fear and frustration finally seep out.

  “When can we see her?” I rasp out.

  “It shouldn’t be too long, how about you go and tell all your friends and family the good news and by the time you’re done, your daughter should be waiting for you.”

  Five minutes later we are walking into the small waiting room that is filled to the brim with everyone we love. A low-level hum buzzes through the room, hushed voices chatting while children play quietly or sleep in their parent’s arms. The sight fills me with peace and we stand for a moment, just taking it all in.

  Until an almighty shriek startles everyone and Cassidy rushes over.

  “Girl or boy?”

  “It’s a girl.” Wyatt grins.

  My mom and Wyatt’s parents race over, wrapping us up in hugs, whispering words of congratulations and excitement and I realize that we weren’t the only ones living through this nightmare.

  I look around the room, seeing our parents, Brax, Mel, Campbell, Simon, Skye, Ben, Cassidy, Mason, Layla, Ethan, Charlie, and Miles, and I feel their enthusiasm, their love, and I realize how lucky we are to have all of them in our lives.

  Dragging my wife away from the scrum of people, we send them on their way with promises to send photos as soon as we can and let them know when we’re ready for visitors.

  “She’s so beautiful.”

  We’re curled up on the bed in the maternity suite we’re occupying until the baby is ready to come home.

  Wyatt is pressed up against my side, her head on my shoulder, her warmth seeping into me and our daughter sleeping in her arms.

  We haven’t been able to stop staring at her, our fingertips lightly tracing her ears, her nose, the dark tuft of hair on top of her head. And her smell? Don’t even get me fucking started on how good she smells.

  “We need to choose a name, Cherry.”

  “I know.” She looks at me with pursed lips. “I know which one I want, what about you?”

  “I think we should go with Olivia.”

  “Yes,” she sighs contentedly, running featherlight touches over her cheek. “That’s her name. She’s Olivia Iris.”

  I lean down and place a kiss on Wyatt’s shoulder.

  “Olivia Iris.” My hand traces the path of Wyatt’s caress. “You were so worth the wait.”

  The End.

  My deepest gratitude to all the bloggers who have read and reviewed any of my books. The time, love and effort you put into supporting the indie community is invaluable and I cannot thank you enough.

  To anyone who reads my books - I have always had a deep passion for reading, so I know how the words we read claw their way into our hearts and find a home there. It stuns me every day that there are people who find joy in my words and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Kim, thank you for being my person and always making sure I’m okay. Your friendship means the world to me and I hope you never underestimate that.

  To the friends who are always there for me: Kerry, Rachel, Karen, Renee, Antonette and the Sassy ladies. I love you!

  Annie, you're a ray of sunshine! Thank you for always championing me, you're a wonderful friend!

  Kim, Rachel, Tamara & Tre thank you so much for your early feedback on this story. As always, I was pushing right up to the very last minute lol but your enthusiasm for this story motivated me to keep going. I can't thank you enough!

  Tijuana Turner, your fresh eyes and perspective helped make Cherry & Irish's story all that it could possibly be and I'm so grateful to you for that. Thank you so very much for taking a chance on me!

  My betas: Lauren Harwood, Katrina Haynes, Cassy Kubehl, Heather Packer & Heather Poll, your input was invaluable. Thank you for taking the time to read Wisteria and share your insights with me.

  It takes so many people to get one book ready to publish, and I am so lucky to have some incredible people working with me. Huge hugs and mad love to Ellie from My Brother’s Editor, Judy from Judy’s Proofreading, Kylie from Indigo Assisting, Judi from Concierge Literary Designs & Photography and the entire team from Give Me Books. Thank you so much for your incredible work. My book baby is better thanks to each a
nd every one of you.

  Finally, my ST: Antonette Santillo, Cassy Kubehl, Devon Farrow, Heather Poll, Joanne Walker, Katrina Haynes, Lauren Harwood, Rachel McLean, Tamara Harrington & Tre Talbot. There aren’t enough words to possibly express how much I appreciate every single one of you. You’re all extraordinary and I love you!

  Amali xxx

  Amali Rose is an Australian author, and former blogger, who released her debut novella in 2017.

  A self-confessed bookworm, her love affair with the written word began as a child, with The Magic Faraway Tree. Her tastes have grown and evolved over the years, and after stumbling into the indie community a few years ago, she discovered her passion for romance with a side of smut.

  When not reading or writing Amali enjoys baking, yoga, cheesy pop music & netflix marathons; and believes strongly that pink, puppies and chocolate make the world a better place!

  Find me here:

  ~ Website ~

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  ~ FB Reader’s Group: Amali’s Haven of Sweet Smut ~

  ~ FB Multi-Author Reader’s Group: Sassy Classy Bad Assy Bitches ~

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  Sneak Peek

  PROLOGUE

  2003

  My head feels foggy as I watch my father from my cross-legged position on the floor where I’m sitting, still trying to make sense of everything that has happened tonight.

  “Skylah?”

  I blink once. Twice.

  “Skylah.” My father’s voice is louder, more insistent this time, and I see him crouched down in front of me. He’s holding my hands in his, but I can’t seem to feel them. The sense of security that normally follows his touch has vanished.

  “Honey, this is for the best, you’ll see. Your mom and I have been so unhappy. We need this.”

  As the words leave his mouth I hear a glass smash on the tiled floor, just outside the bedroom door, and hear my mother’s footsteps fade away as she rushes down the hall.

  Sighing, my father stands up, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, and a look of frustration crosses his face. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and seems to regroup as the sound of his phone buzzing with a text fills the air.

  Looking down and pulling up the message, a slow smile lights his face, all sense of frustration gone.

  It’s her, I realize with horror and I feel a single tear escape. Brushing it away furiously before he can notice, I watch as he slides his phone in his back pocket and resumes packing with a renewed vigour.

  Moments later, he zips his suitcase closed and approaches me.

  “C’mon, honey, walk me out,” Dad says, holding his hand out to me. I take it hesitantly. There’s no way I can stop this so refusing seems petty, and I allow him to lead me to the front door.

  “I’ll call when I get home, okay?”

  Home. This is your home, I want to scream. Here with me and Mom! But I don’t. I nod mutely and let him draw me into a tight hug. All too soon, he pulls away and with a last brush of his hand across my cheek, he turns and walks out the door. I watch him make his way down the front path, hop into his car, gun the engine and drive off down the street. The hand I had raised to wave goodbye, drops quickly back down to my side. There’s no point. He never looked back.

  CHAPTER 1

  “Ugh, shit.” The words fall from my lips as I trip over the cushion left on the floor with all the grace of a stumbling hippopotamus. Okay, maybe that last glass of wine wasn’t the smartest idea I’ve ever had. As I pull myself up I search for my kindle and sigh in relief as I spot it safe on the couch. I reach down and pick it up as I make my way to my bedroom, ready to curl up and enjoy my latest book boyfriend and this wine buzz I have going on.

  After getting ready for bed I am snug and settled, devouring the filthy words on the screen with the enthusiasm of someone who has clearly not enjoyed any sexy times in a ridiculously long while. As my eyes eat up the words, my hand unconsciously smooths its way down my body, seeking relief from the tension pulsing in my core. As my fingers slide through the wetness, I groan softly. Grazing my clit lightly, a shiver escapes me. I am so worked up it’s only a matter of minutes before my teasing fingertips have worked their magic and I am moaning my release.

  I sigh as I roll over thinking how too many of my nights are ending this way. I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like to have an actual guy touch me, and frankly, I’m ready to give myself the “it’s not you, it’s me speech”. I think about the advice my best friend Cassidy gave me the other day; online dating. I mean there’s no shame in it these days, right? We’re all busy, it’s a perfectly respectable way to meet people. And it works. I’ve seen the testimonials and surely, they wouldn’t lie. Right?

  While I still retain a bit of liquid courage, courtesy of all the wine I drank tonight, I grab my phone and google “most successful dating sites”. It would seem Happily Ever After is the site of choice for all the despera... I mean, hopeful singles out there. I stifle a laugh at the name. I’m not looking for a happily ever after. Just a happily ever orgasm. So, before I lose my nerve I pull up the website and click on the ‘create an account’ button. Ten minutes later, I have completed my profile and set it loose into the online dating world. My smiling face gazes out at me from the phone screen and I can’t help looking at myself with pity. A sense of dread settles in my stomach as I send out a silent prayer to the dick-pic gods. Please no delfies. Or, you know, at least make them dicks worthy of my admiration. Oh god, what have I done?

  * * *

  BEEEEEP.

  I sigh quietly as I reach to open the microwave and pull out the dinner for one as Cassidy continues her rant in my ear. “Seriously, Skye, I’m not sure how much longer I can stay there. The work is boring as fuck and the people are even worse! How can I be expected to work under those conditions? I’m not getting any sleep at night because I’m falling asleep out of boredom every day!”

  I try to hold in a giggle as I listen to Cassidy complain about her job in office administration. Unfortunately, the result is an unattractive snort-giggle that alerts her to my mirth. “Well, I’m glad you find my pain so funny, loser!” she shrieks, and I can feel her glowering through the phone, which causes me to lose any pretence and I burst out laughing.

  “It’s work, Cass, it’s not supposed to be fun. It’s just the eight hours we have to get through every day to get to the fun stuff.”

  “Speaking of the fun stuff, you wanna go out tonight? Cocktails and tapas?” The change in Cassidy’s voice is immediate and if I didn’t know her so well, would be slightly disconcerting. But after ten years of friendship I am used to her swift mood changes and at times like this, I am grateful for them. Her work diatribes are becoming a daily occurrence.

  “I would but I’ve got myself a hot date tonight. Ben and I agreed to chat at 8 o’clock.” I listen as Cassidy whoops loudly on the other end of the phone, mumbles something about sexting and starts to sing “bow chika wow wow.”

  I roll my eyes at her outburst but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. Cass is my opposite in every way. The yin to my yang, the Scary Spice to my Baby Spice. She is the dark to my light and I couldn’t imagine my life without her. She has also seen me despair over the long list of less than desirable men that have replied to my online profile, and encouraged me to persevere. Cassidy claimed the answer to my sex drought was only a click away, and don’t think she didn’t proclaim her triumph loudly when Ben Mackinnon appeared in my Happily Ever After mailbox. Sexy as hell and, if his messages are anything to go by, sweet, smart and funny; he ticked all my boxes and then some. And I’m not going to lie; the fact that he didn’t send me a dick pic within the first ten minutes had definitely worked in his favor.

  “Okay, okay, okay, enough!
” I laugh as I cut Cassidy off mid-chika. “I have fifteen minutes to scarf down this meal before it’s B-time so I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

  “B-time? Really? I sincerely worry about your cool cred sometimes, you nerd. But that’s a topic for another day. Later, Skyballs, and remember, two hands on your phone at all times, young lady!”

  I groan as Cassidy hangs up on me and I place my phone on the kitchen counter. Tucking a strand of my long brown hair behind my ear, I pick up my fork and dig into my lean cuisine. After a quick glance at the clock I see it’s ten minutes to eight, and feel the butterflies start. Truth be told, I’m completely out of practice with this whole dating thing. My list of exes did nothing to change my mind and convince me that a happily ever after was in my future, and I had forgotten about this complex mix of excitement and fear which left you unsure if you were giddy or nauseous!

  Placing my dishes in the dishwasher, I move to the couch and settle in for what I hope will be a long chat. Because chatting to Ben has become the highlight of my day, and while I probably should, I feel absolutely no shame in admitting that. The last month talking to him has been fun and easy; I find myself almost craving the contact with him. He has tried to convince me to meet him in person a handful of times but I’ve resisted. There is safety in where we are now, in the protection that the phone screen affords me. I started this online thing to find someone to have fun with. Someone who can scratch my metaphorical itch anytime it tingles, but the longer I talk to Ben, the more I can see myself falling for him and I can’t let that happen. My head understands this but as my phone dings and my heart begins to pound, it’s clear that my heart might not be on the same page. Ugh, someone needs to give me a stern talking to. I am a twenty-eight-year-old grown woman, not a giddy, giggling preteen. Then again, I haven’t gotten laid in a while so I give myself a pass.