by Linda Kage
I only had to think about that for half a second. Snapping my fingers, I grinned. “I got it. We could bring them with us. My mom manages a hotel. She’s always looking for good, dependable employees. She could get Dawn a job no problem.”
Mason shook his head, his eyes sparkling with a reverent glint. “You have a solution for everything, don’t you?”
When it came to keeping us together, I would definitely find a solution. I fluttered my lashes at him. “So what do you say? If we can get your mom on board, do you want to look into enrolling at Ellamore in the spring?”
His mouth cut me off. “Yes.” His lips pressed against my neck next. “Yes. If it makes you happy and keeps us together, my answer will always be yes.”
EPILOGUE
Four Months Later
Inhaling the tart odor of wet paint, I filled my roller with another batch of what the hardware store had called Nifty Turquoise and applied it to the wall, only to step back and admire my handiwork.
“Damn, I’m awesome.”
Behind me, Sarah giggled from her wheelchair.
“Shh.” Putting a finger over my lips, I whirled around to wink at her. “You didn’t hear me say that.”
She laughed again, her gray eyes twinkling with a mischief she had definitely inherited from her brother. “You’re awesome.”
“Okay, that you could hear.” I waggled the roller in her direction, threatening to paint her, and her laughter turned into delighted screams.
Once she settled down, I propped one hand on my hip and studied the bare, half-painted room. “You know, when this dries, I think the color you picked out is going to be amazing.”
Sarah clapped and chattered about her excitement, agreeing with me.
After moving out of Mrs. Garrison’s rental house, Mason had found a place that was actually affordable and close to Sarah’s new school.
Yes, I said new school.
In Ellamore, Illinois.
Can you believe that? I talked him and his entire family into moving back home with me. Now Dawn and Sarah had their own, snug, two-bedroom bungalow, and Mason and I were renting a place close to the university.
I’m not quite sure how he’d been able to convince his mom to pull up all her roots and move across the country to live near us, but she had agreed to the deal almost too readily.
I think she had been as eager to leave Waterford as Mason had been. Both of them had a past they’d wanted to escape. And they both seemed so much more laid back and relaxed now. Knowing his old landlady could never touch him again, Mason had bloomed in the past few weeks. And I loved every inch of the new man he’d become even more.
He was a spectacular, caring, faithful, totally hot boyfriend.
As if hearing my praising thoughts, he popped his head into Sarah’s new room. “Holy…Jeez. That is one bright color.” His eyes widened with horror.
“I know.” I beamed as I displayed the wall like a pro Vanna White imitator. “Sarah loves it.”
When he glanced at his sister, she clapped and cheered, so Mason simply cleared his throat, remained respectfully silent about his opinion, and picked up a roller to help me finish the walls.
See? Spectacular.
At some point, Dawn arrived and wheeled Sarah away, saying they were going to go grab some lunch, but Mason and I were so busy working we barely spared them a farewell.
We really were busy—until his mom and sister left, that is. Then things got a little…well, let’s just say they got busy in an entirely different way.
We were still very much in the lovey-dovey, touchy-feely, kissy-cuddly stage, you see. And since Eva had arrived on our doorstep two weeks ago after her parents had disowned her, our love nest apartment had been disrupted by my troubled pregnant cousin, who took over our extra bedroom. We could no longer just do it anywhere.
It was utterly aggravating.
So, these days, we attacked each other the moment we were alone.
Mason had just laid me down on Sarah’s bed—hush, don’t you dare tell—and was frantically trying to unsnap the button on my jeans when my cell phone rang.
“Damn it.” He rolled off me to lie on his back and cover his face with his arm. “If that’s Eva, I’m going to kill her. I swear that cockblocking woman has it out for me, trying to keep me from ever having sex again. It’s been forever since I was last inside you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, my God. It was three days ago.”
“Exactly.” He groaned as if he were in pain.
Checking the ID on my screen, I poked Mason in the ribs. “You were wrong. It’s not E.” Answering the call, I said, “Hey, Mom. No, I haven’t changed my mind yet.”
Both of my parents wanted me to go back to being Teresa Nolan again. But so much had happened in the past few months, I really didn’t feel like Teresa Nolan anymore. I was Reese Randall now.
But I guess that wasn’t why she had called this time.
“Reese.” The serious note in her voice had me holding my breath.
I bolted upright, instantly alert. “What happened now?”
Mason rolled onto his side toward me. Before I could even turn his way for support, he took my hand, helping me brace for the worst.
“Jeremy…” my mother started.
My throat dropped into my stomach. “His trial was dropped again,” I croaked, my skin chilling to icicles. “Wasn’t it? He’s free?”
“No,” Mom said. “No, not at all. He’s dead, honey. He got into a fight in jail and was stabbed to death. Two days ago. I think the newspaper called it a…a shanking or something like that?”
I covered my mouth with one hand and met Mason’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he mouthed.
I shook my head and turned away, still not sure how to react. I had certainly never wished this kind of harm to come to my psycho stalker ex. But I’d technically been finished with him since the beginning of my junior year. There were no lingering feelings of affection at all.
There was just…oh, God.
Relief.
Mom talked a few minutes longer, but I kind of shrugged her off, thanking her for calling and letting me know but saying I had to go.
When I hung up, I told Mason the news.
He was mostly quiet, studying me intently. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, looking more through him than at him. “Yeah, I…” Finally, I focused on his face. “I’m free.”
His grin was slow and approving as he took my hands and squeezed my fingers. “We’re both free.”
“Free at last,” I sang out, grinning, only to brighten. “Ooh, that reminds me…” I paused with an arch of my eyebrows and tilt of my head. “Actually, I have no idea how that reminded me, but it made me remember, for some strange reason. Isn’t it odd how one thing can remind you of—”
“Reese!” Mason cut in, his exasperated voice and amused grin telling me how badly I was rambling.
“Right.” I got back on track. “I wrote you a poem.”
He wrinkled his brow into frown. “You wrote a poem? For me? Really?”
I bobbed my head enthusiastically. After digging into my pocket, I yanked free the multi-folded sheet of notebook paper I’d ripped out of one of my binders.
His throat worked as he swallowed. “Wow. That’s…that’s really sweet.”
“Thanks.” I tried to toss my hair over my shoulder before I realized I had it up in a ponytail. God, I loved being able to wear my hair up again.
Mason waved his hand. “Let’s hear this thing.” He sounded excited.
I nodded, clearing my throat and straightening the wrinkles in the page so I could read aloud what I’d written.
Way down in the boondocks of Waterford,
The girls liked to pay for their manly sword.
Goodbye, Mr. Mason Lowe.
Oh, what a gigolo.
Too bad he’s retired to Ellamore.
Mason stared at me, stunned speechless. Then he shook his head and cracked a smile
. “Manly sword?”
“What?” I shrugged. “I never claimed to be a good poet. You try to come up with something that rhymes with Waterford.”
I’d been stretching it enough to make Ellamore go with Waterford.
“Hmm. Well, thanks so much. It’s simply romantic. Brings a tear to my eye. Seriously.”
I scowled, afraid my sarcasm was rubbing off onto him a little too well. Shoving at his arm, I pretended to pout. “Hey, you said you wanted a limerick. And limericks are not romantic. I looked it up. They’re witty, humorous, nonsensical, and kind of dirty.” I shook my rumpled scrap of paper in his face. “So this is what you got, buster.”
“I never said I wanted a limerick written about me. I said there probably would be.”
I snickered. “Well, now there is. Don’t you just feel…immortal?”
He shook his head and pulled me into his arms. “You are so weird. But I don’t think I could love you any more than I do right now. Thank you for my dirty poem. You’re amazing, and I’m the luckiest guy on earth.”
See, had that been so hard for him to say?
I flushed, pleased by his praise. “Well, you’re welcome.”
We kissed, and life was perfect.
“And I love you too,” I felt inclined to add.
“You know,” he murmured thoughtfully, pressing his forehead against mine as he toyed with the collar of my partially unbuttoned shirt. When he oh-so-accidently slipped the next button free, my sleeve slid off my shoulder. His fingers coasted over my bare skin. “The more retired and free I feel lately, the more I actually want to be tied down again. To you.”
I frowned until the significance behind his words took root. Did he mean…?
He didn’t mean…marital ties. Did he?
I sent him a suspicious glance, but he only winked.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Sandra Martinie, big sister extraordinaire, who reads everything I write and gives her insightful advice. Yes, you may feel very, very sorry for her!
And to more amazing family members: Cindy Alexander, Nancy Crumpacker, Jamie Alexander, Katie Cap, and Kayla Crumpacker. Thank you so much for helping me proofread.
Ivy Bateman, amazing author and cherished friend. Thank for your wonderful counsel and manuscript guidance.
And that same acknowledgement goes to Lisa Filipe, blogger for Tasty Reads and owner of Tasty Book Tours. She took time away from raising her precious baby to also beta read my work.
More praise goes to Carol Kilgore, crime fiction with a kiss author plus mentor for my first adventure into self-publishing.
To the amazing blogger, Courtney Wyant, whom I will never forget, plus her Auntie Andrea for both of your mad beta reading skills. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your sunny and bright dispositions, which has always kept my morale high.
To my editor, Laura Josephsen, I totally love working with you. I can’t say enough nice words to show my appreciation to you.
Another round of thanks goes so Ashley Morrison of the blog, Book Labyrinth. She so graciously took the time to read and give a very precise, organized, and brilliant feedback to one of my earlier drafts.
For, Claire Ashgrove, awesome author and one of my first critique partners and writing friends. You are so much more than a mere proofreader. Thanks for your help in making this story flow.
To cover artist, Sarah Hansen, of Okay Creations. I’m not worthy! And I’m still in love with every cover you produce.
I’m very grateful to my husband and daughter, who ground me to reality as I go through all my writing ups and down. You guys are my everything.
And finally, thanks to the Good Lord for still putting up with me!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda grew up on a dairy farm in the Midwest as the youngest of eight children. Now she lives in Kansas with her husband, daughter, and their nine cuckoo clocks. Her life's been blessed with lots of people to learn from and love. Writing's always been a major part her world, and she’s so happy to finally share some of her stories with other romance lovers. Please visit her at her website
http://www.lindakage.com/
