“No worries, Miss. I seem to be bumping into a lot of people today.” Jackson laughed the encounter off.
“This is probably how we should’ve met.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Maryanne.”
He took her hand in his. “Jackson.”
Their hands fit together and then... Nothing.
Maryanne smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him.
She employed a sign he knew well, but she was the wrong woman. It felt forced. There was no jolt looking into her green eyes. No spark at the touch of her hand across his forearm.
Jackson shook his head to get back into the conversation and get out of it.
“It was nice meeting you. I’ve got a few friends to catch up with.” Jackson squeezed Maryanne’s shoulder. He wandered off in search of the cause of his true spark.
The wind swirled around him, his eyes driven toward the east end of the field. Quinn stood with Sam and another man. The uneasy smile on Quinn’s lips filled him with relief. The one she’d given him when they met was soft and genuine. This man was no competition.
He took one step, then another, and another toward Quinn, the wind blowing all the while. When she turned and saw him, the smile caused a rush more powerful than any wind God could create.
Ten steps to go, he noticed a football sailing through the air. It looked like it would hit right where Quinn stood. Without thought, Jackson hurried and pulled Quinn out of the way of injury. Jackson twisted his body as the football collided with the back of his head. He landed with a thud, his back hitting the ground and Quinn on top of him.
“Jackson! Are you all right?” Quinn cupped his jaw.
He felt a lump form on the back of his head, and the breath knocked out of his body. “I’m...” Even in pain and discomfort, Quinn lying on top of him, searching his eyes for a sign, was the best feeling in the world. “I’m perfect.”
Quinn’s eyes sparkled and her smile widened. He lifted his head and without thought pressed his lips to hers.
She moved her fingertips to the nape of his neck, as his tongue pressed against the seam of her mouth. In that instant, his life changed forever. The first kiss of what he knew would be millions. A perfect kiss with a not so perfect ending.
Quinn pressed her fingers into the lump and caused him to moan in pain, quickly ending the kiss.
“Is it too painful?” she whispered.
“No, but I don’t think we can lay here much longer.”
One side of her mouth curled up, and she shimmied off him. Once on her feet, she offered him her hand. He took it, and she pulled him up into her arms, uneasy on his feet.
“I’ve gotcha,” she tightened her arms around his waist.
He leaned down and gave her their second kiss, briefer than the first. “Yes, you certainly do.”
The collision with the football and Jackson’s head was a complete surprise to Ben. Surprise was a new feeling for him─one he seemed to like. The shocked flutter in his chest caused a smile to curl up on the often too serious face.
“I didn’t see that coming,” Ben whispered while his team gathered around him. The team watched as Quinn pressed an ice pack to Jackson’s head.
“Technically, we completed our assignment,” Lyric said and slung her arm around Ben’s shoulders.
“True. Kingston can’t be too irate with us on that note.” Ben’s smile brightened for a fraction of a second before the world disappeared around him and settled him back in Kingston’s office.
“Who wants to explain this colossal mess?” Kingston ranted and threw a thick folder down on his desk.
Ben glanced to each of his team members. They all owned the same bewildered expression as he did. Then his eyes caught a glimpse of her as she sat in a leather armchair to his right.
“Mila?” The shock in Ben’s voice carried throughout the room. The brilliant beauty of the ethereal being struck him to the core every time he stood in her presence. As one of the Fates, Mila surely had that effect on many, but none as stoic as Ben Rigby.
“After that display, Kingston requested my presence,” Mila exclaimed in a confident tone. “Let us get one thing perfectly clear; this was not our doing.”
Ben fought to stay upright. The RRB fought a constant battle with Fate. Mila always took credit for any win she managed over him in the past. He wondered why she would lie now.
“My assignment earlier in the day had to do with a car accident in the same town. Nothing to do with any romance. We were to teach a father and son a lesson. While I enjoyed that show, I’m afraid I cannot take any credit.” Mila stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Ben by the end of her speech directed toward Kingston.
A red-faced Kingston turned on his monitor, mounted on his wall, to display a timeline. “Let’s just see how much damage this little screw up made.”
Mila, Ben, and the rest of the team turned to focus on the screen. The first event to come up looked to be the wedding of Jackson James and Quinn Farley.
Ben watched in awe at the look in Jackson’s eyes as the bride walked down the aisle to him. What once looked odd seemed a perfect fit.
The next scene showed Jackson chasing a toddler boy around a lush green yard while Quinn held a squirming pink bundle. A large dog knocked the boy to the ground, but the boy returned to his feet in an instant. Jackson continued the to race around and gave Quinn and the baby kisses each time he passed by.
The scene shifted again, Jackson and Quinn with their five children standing close by. Jackson’s hand lay on the Bible Quinn held while he took an oath on the steps of the United States Capitol.
Ben’s jaw dropped at the same moment Mila gasped.
“Shut the front door,” Rena expressed in quiet awe.
They heard the words as Jackson took the oath of office for the President of the United States.
“His file said he would be a judge until he retired.” Ben shook his head in disbelief.
The scenes flittered across the screen faster after that. Newspaper headlines, private moments in the Lincoln bedroom, and midnight snacking in the kitchen of the White House were just a few. In every single one, Quinn and Jackson were deliriously happy.
The scenes slowed to a final one. Jackson and Quinn looked to be in their seventies at this point. The couple stood surrounded by security at the bottom of red, carpeted steps. Jackson held on to Quinn by the waist while her hands rested on his chest.
They all were shocked when they heard Jackson’s voice ring through.
“I almost can’t believe we are standing here.”
“We’ve been coming to these things every four years for decades,” Quinn quipped. “You must be used to them by now.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” He leaned in and gave his wife a kiss that numbered in the millions. “When I saw you through the window of your bakery, I never dreamed I’d be standing here with you. You’re the first of many things in my life I never planned for. I’m thankful that I didn’t, though.”
Quinn quirked her brow. “Why not?”
“The best things in life are a surprise. Every day I’ve spent with you has been an adventure. It’s your lust for life that has made me into the man I am today and helped us lead our family to the best life possible.”
A tear ran down Quinn’s cheek; her genuine smile soft on her lips.
“One of our best surprises is about to make history today.” Jackson wiped away Quinn’s tear with his thumb then cupped her cheek.
Quinn nodded then turned to look up to the top of the stairs where their daughter stood with her ever supportive husband by her side.
“I don’t know if I’ll make it through the day. My heart is so full. Our daughter is about to be sworn in as the President of the United States.” Quinn’s tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
“Don’t worry. I’ve gotcha.”
The screen went black. They all stood in complete silence.
Ben turned to find Kingston wavering on his feet.
“Sir?” he as
ked, as he had never seen him look so confused.
“If not Fate nor us, then who?” Kingston questioned the room in contemplation.
Ben thought over the order of the universe as it pertained to his duties. Only one answer stood out to him. “Free will, Sir. Even our best laid plans don’t always come together.”
Kingston stared at Ben for a moment then flicked his wrist. “You’re dismissed.”
Ben, Mila, and the team knew when retreat and did with haste.
Out in the hallway, his wingtips sounded against the floor the same as they had only hours earlier, but everything was different.
“Why don’t you guys take some time off until we figure out if we get another assignment,” Ben told his team.
They all nodded and trailed down the hallway, but Mila stayed back.
“I’ve seen your plans backfire before. Why is this one any different?”
Ben took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I knew from the beginning nothing I planned would tear those two apart.”
“Because they chose against a force they didn’t even know they were fighting. Not many could resist a brilliant plan from Ben Rigby.” She squeezed his hand and pulled him to walk beside her. “I’ve gotcha now, Mr. Rigby.”
Ben slipped his arm around Mila’s waist and brought her in close. He knew more than he ever wanted to about fighting something more powerful than himself. It was his turn to choose and he chose her. “Yes, you certainly do.”
Meg Williams decides going abroad alone is what she needs to get out of her current funk. But a bathroom door with no lock and a hankering for coffee when there's only tea, just might make her solo trip turn into an adventure for two.
This is a holiday she’ll never forget.
Where does someone go on a vacation by themselves?
The melancholy I’ve been drowning in lately is back, and the thought of going somewhere without Noah is killing me. I know he needs time with his dad, and I could use some time to clear my head, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
He’s only been gone two days, and I already miss him like crazy.
Looking around the quiet, empty house, I know there is no other choice than to get the hell out of here. I’ll go crazier than I already am if I stick around. There’s only so much house to clean and only so many books to read. Besides, every book I own is a damn romance novel, and I don’t need that crap.
And no, I’m not bitter. Just resolved. The only men I need in my life are Noah and Winston.
I continue to scroll through flights and destinations, randomly plugging information into search engines, when a website for house rentals pops up. I don’t need a house. It’s just me. But the idea of spending weeks in a hotel seems even more depressing than my current situation. Maybe a loft apartment? That could be cozy. Maybe in a busy city? That might be a good distraction. With lots of museums. I love museums.
Oooooo… Paris.
I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. But who goes to a city associated with love right after a divorce? A masochist. That’s who. And that ain’t me.
I scroll a bit more, even bringing up Pinterest and browsing the pictures associated with holiday and vacation destinations, but nothing calls out to me.
Grant hates to travel. Probably because of what he does for a living, but we didn’t even have a honeymoon for crying out loud. Three days in Pittsburgh while he covered baseball games does not count. The life of a sports writer isn’t as glamorous as one might think, and it especially isn’t for the spouse of a sports writer. Especially when that sports writer bags a babe in every city he’s in, and said spouse finds out by trying to surprise him for their anniversary in one of those said cities.
My nails dig into the palms of my hands as my fists clench. I blow out a deep breath, willing myself to forget. When I tip my wineglass up to try to wash down the bad memories, it’s bone dry.
And so is the bottle sitting next to me.
I guess that’s my cue to call it a night.
Closing the laptop, I look over at Winston and ask him if he’s ready to go to bed. His lazy stretch and yawn is all the answer I need. Of course, Winston sleeps about twenty hours a day, so he’s always ready for bed.
“You’re such a good boy. You don’t sleep around, and you’re always loyal. Could be because I had your balls cut off.”
I talk to the dog. So what?
“Sorry about that, by the way.” He looks up at me with his big chocolate brown eyes and wags his fluffy tail. “Have I ever told you how you used to piss on everything in the house? Well, you did. So, off with the balls.” I sigh, climbing into bed and waiting on Winston to take his place beside me.
Less than five minutes later, Winston is snoring, and I’m left staring into the darkness. This used to be my sanctuary. I used to covet moments of quiet and solitude. But now… it’s just a sad reminder of what once was … and the fact that I’m alone. Sure, I have Noah, and I love him more than anything in the whole wide world, but I miss adult companionship. And sex. I really miss sex.
“Meg!” My boss’s voice booms into the room. “I thought you were going to be on vacation for the next month.” The way the words ooze from his mouth lets me know he’s not happy to see me here. I should’ve guessed he’d be pissed, but it’s irrational. What boss wants their employee to be gone for a month?
“Mr. Sanders, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me.” I don’t lift my head from my work, continuing to plug numbers into the spreadsheet I’ve been working on all morning. “Is there something I should know?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.
Looking up, I see his brows pinched together, and he’s pulling at his tie. He’s frustrated. I know those signs well.
“Listen, you’ve been through a lot. You need some time off. And besides all of that, you haven’t taken a vacation since you’ve been here. Do you know how bad that makes me look to HR?”
“Well, I’ll send them a memo and tell them I’m the one who chooses not to take a vacation. I’m sure that’ll clear up any misunderstandings.”
“Meg.” His tone is final and the scowl on his face tells me he’s not going to budge on this issue.
“Fine,” I huff, sounding a bit like a petulant child, but I can’t help it. I feel out of sorts with myself.
“Just take a month off, blow some vacation days, get refreshed, and come back ready to work.”
“It’s easier said than done, Joe.” Now I really do sound like a child. There’s a slight whine to my voice as I try to make my boss see that I’m better off here. Work keeps me busy and keeps my mind off of how lonely my life is when Noah is gone.
“I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d like to go … just you.” Joe takes a step further into my office and has a seat in the chair across from my desk, taking on a fatherly feel as he clasps his hands in front of him and leans toward me.
“That’s the problem. I don’t want to be that far away from Noah,” I admit. “Him being with Grant is one thing, but me not being here if he needs me is another.”
“You and I both know that Grant will take good care of him. He might not be a good husband, but he’s a good dad. Besides, Noah is ten. He’s practically grown.”
“He’s still my baby.”
“He’ll be fine. And so will we.” The firmness in Joe’s tone takes me a little by surprise. He usually gives in to my demands, so the fact that he’s sticking to his guns lets me know I’m not getting my way this time.
“Promise to miss me while I’m gone,” I say, semi-teasingly, because I love my job. I need my job. I also need a break. So, I shutdown my computer and reach for my bag.
“Of course,” Joe says with a pleased, self-satisfied smile.
“Flight 1901 to London is now boarding.”
I watch as people begin to line up according to their seat numbers. Families. Couples.
My good ol’ friend, loneliness, is sitting right beside me, but I shake him off and r
emind myself I’ll soon be in London. I’m hoping this trip does me some good and I’ll be able to clear my head and enjoy myself.
“Seats D1 through D25.”
I should’ve flown first-class.
Once I’m seated and securely fastened in between two burly men, with zero elbow room, I pop in my earbuds and turn on an audiobook. I need something else to think about, or at least some background noise to fall asleep to, for the next ten hours. So, I chose Chelsea Handler’s book, Are You There God? It’s Me, Vodka.
I love vodka. Maybe I should’ve gone to Russia.
I also love wine.
I’m an equal opportunity drinker.
One of the many things I love about this audiobook is that it’s read by Chelsea. Win. I hate audiobooks where the characters are read by someone who sounds nothing like what I pictured the characters to sound like. A bad narrator can ruin a good book.
Up until a few months ago, I had been married for twelve years and a mom for the last ten. I can count on one hand the times in the last twelve years when I’ve just done what I want to do … only worrying about myself.
After thirty minutes or so of over-analyzing audiobooks, thinking of all the things I want to do once I land, and sort of paying attention to Chelsea, I drift off to sleep.
“Hey, Mom.”
I knew this call was inevitable. My parents are freaking out because I’m traveling to another country … alone. Apparently, it’s unsafe and irresponsible.
“Are you being careful?”
“Yes, Mother.”
“I know you’re grown and can do and go as you please, but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you.”
“I’m thirty-five. I’ve been married, had a kid, got a divorce … I think I can handle a trip across the pond.”
“Don’t use that tone with me. Your father and I just worry, that’s all. So, where are you staying again?”
“I’m renting a room in a flat in Notting Hill.”
“So you’re not staying in a hotel? Is that safe?”
What the Heart Wants: An Opposites Attract Anthology Page 8
