The Last Page: Book 1 of Living, Loving, & Laughing

by Lacy Camey

  “What do you mean? How?”

  “Remember, I had gotten mad that one day? The day the name not even worth wasting my breath mentioning called. Well, I left it on the beach, and he found it and read every last page!”

  “Wow, and he’s still pursuing you?” she joked.

  “Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes and cocked my head.

  “Well, I can tell he really likes you. So let’s go get to those stomach crunches.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning, I woke up filled with a schoolgirl excitement, like the kind of excitement one feels when they’re going to their first day of school not knowing what to expect, but optimistic, hopeful, and maybe a bit cautious and suspecting.

  I carefully chose a turquoise swimsuit to wear under a white dress that tied behind my neck, strappy flats, and coral jewelry.

  He rang the doorbell at eight o’clock sharp, which was courteous, I thought, because when guys showed up too early, they weren’t allowing us women to beautify ourselves. I loved utilizing every minute. I ran away from my makeup-and hair-products-covered counter, grabbed my beige Chanel bag, and walked as calmly as possible, since he could more than likely see me through the glass.

  I sneaked a peek at him standing at the door-white button-up shirt, the top few buttons unbuttoned, um… hot! Khaki shorts, and loafer-style shoes. I had to remind myself to calm down, look natural, and breathe. Oh, and he had Ray-Bans on. He looked so good.

  I opened the door. “Hi!” I smiled.

  He looked at me without saying anything for a moment. And then said, “You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you. You look nice yourself.”

  “Ready?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We got in his Toyota SUV and headed down our long driveway lined with trees. His car smelled of fresh cotton.

  “How was your night? You didn’t overdose on ice cream after I left?”

  I laughed. “Funny.”

  “Well, have you eaten anything today?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good.” He grinned and looked in the backseat at a picnic basket as a mother would with concern for her baby.

  “A picnic basket?” I immediately got excited. “You’re taking me on a picnic?”

  “Even better.”

  He turned up the radio volume, probably so he wouldn’t give away his surprise. I recognized the group immediately-his brother’s band.

  “You brother?”

  “Yeah, he’s about to leave for a European tour. But first, he’s going to join me on a man’s trip. We’re about to head to Chile for-“

  I couldn’t contain myself and cut him off, letting out a giant squeal as we pulled into a marina. I didn’t mean to interrupt him, but beautiful sailboats floated peacefully atop the seamless water. I knew what that meant, and why we were there. I loved the water.

  He parked the car and came around to open my car door. “Thank you.” Perfect gent, I mentally noted. “Would you look at this weather? Not a cloud in the sky!” It felt perfect, maybe seventy-five degrees.

  He grabbed the basket and an ice chest and led me to the dock. We walked past many beautiful boats with interesting names, like Fat Chance, Liquid Asset, Got Debt, and The Greedy Killer. I was anxious to see what his boat’s name would be. Hopefully, not The Hell-born Pirate!

  We approached a boat called Robin Hood. “Here we are. Isn’t she a beauty?”

  “Robin Hood? Are you like a major Disney fanatic or fairy tale kind of guy cause…” and then I slipped and fell right on my bottom.

  “Your wrist! Be careful.” He quickly dropped the basket and ice chest and helped me up from the wooden dock.

  Embarrassed, I got up as quickly as I could. “Well, slippery here, isn’t it?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m okay,” I said, mortified. Thank goodness, I had a swimsuit on under the dress; otherwise, I would have been even more mortified at the thought of my dress flying up and showcasing my undies!

  He made his way onto the boat. Instead of reaching for my hand, he went straight for my waist, picked me up, and brought me onboard. I could feel his strength as he lowered me to the deck.

  Before I could compliment him, he said, “Yeah, I know. I work out. And no, it’s okay. Don’t worry. I won’t transform into a werewolf like what’s his name.”

  Seriously? I thought to myself.

  “I get that question a lot. Must be the tan skin and the chiseled abs. One can’t help but ward off these comments.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at him. I could tell he wasn’t being arrogant; he was just being funny.

  “Well, I read in your journal that you felt like a-“

  “Lost sailboat at sea?” I finished for him.

  “Well, this isn’t a sailboat, but we can sail the boat to sea. I don’t want you to feel that way anymore. You’re not lost; you’re not alone. I’m here now.”

  He reached for my hand, my left hand, of course, and kissed me on the check. I was speechless. He was such a Romeo. Before I fell under the Romeo spell and started to ask the standard question, “So, you know what you’re doing, right? You know how to drive a boat?” I went straight back to the hot topic at hand, my journal.

  “So, about my private little memoir you read,“ I started.

  I watched him untie the rope and sit behind the steering wheel. “I knew you would bring it up,” he said with concern. “So, I thought it would only be fair for you to feel on the same level. I’ll let you read my journal.” He reached into the picnic basket and handed me a black leather journal with brown leather string tied around it.

  Uh, the last thing I was expecting!

  “Really?” Instead of being polite and noninvasive and object, I was curious to read it.

  “Just promise me you won’t fall asleep from boredom or try to jump off the boat.”

  “You have that many deep dark secrets, huh?”

  I stared at the journal and smelled it without thinking.

  He looked at me, bewildered. “Trying to guess what’s for brunch since it was in the basket with the food?”

  I untied the string as he watched. I was just about to open it, when I shut it. “This is too invasive! I simply can’t!”

  “Just read a page,” he tempted.

  “Any random page?”

  “Yes, any random page.” He started the boat.

  “I can’t!”

  “Okay, ready for some fun? Here we go!” The acceleration of the boat motor jolted me back into the chair. Luckily, I grabbed my hat before it flew off and held tightly to the journal with my forearm clinched to my chest as best as I could with my handicap.

  “Sorry!” he yelled over the wind.

  We drove out to sea for a few minutes, then came to a stop. “Perfect docking place for brunch.” He turned off the motor and let down the anchor.

  “Well, go on! Aren’t you just dying to read my deepest darkest secrets?”

  So I opened the journal.

  Today, I hung out with a girl. She has something special about her. Not only is she gorgeous, but she’s sweet, funny, talented, and a perfect kisser.

  “Are you serious?” I put the journal down. But curious, I turned to the next page, and the next, and they all contained the same entry.

  Today, I hung out with a girl. She has something special about her. Not only is she gorgeous but she’s sweet, funny, talented, and a perfect kisser.

  “Okay, you’re a little mischievous, aren’t you?” I asked, realizing his ploy.

  “Well, I had a feeling this topic would come up, so I wanted you to feel comfortable with reading my journal. I wanted to make light of it.”

  “And from the ten to fifteen pages of the same entry, it looks like someone doesn’t have a life.” I gave him a daring stare.

  “Hey, what else was I going to do while my laundry dried this morning?” He smiled that charming smile and shrugged.
He pulled a coffee canister out of the basket. “Coffee? You get seasick?”

  “Your lucky day. You chose the right sister. Maycee’s the one that gets incredibly seasick.”

  He shot me a look, and I returned a “Yeah, that’s right” look. “Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

  For this being our first technical date, it wasn’t awkward like most first dates. Although I had dated Truett for the four years in college, in high school I had dated my fair share. It was always awkward at first. I didn’t remember ever having this much fun, or being this much at ease.

  He held up a coffee cup and some mini vanilla creamers. “Sugar, cream?”

  “Oh you brought little creamers? Really? That’s so cute!” I squealed. Coffee did that to me.

  “Boy, you’re an easy one to please.”

  “I love those little things in life.” I tilted my head and gathered my hair over my left shoulder. I watched him make my coffee.

  “Remember, I promised you’d ice your wrist. Now looks like a good time.”

  He handed me the icepack from the ice chest and placed it on the edge of the boat where I rested my wrist. He handed my coffee to me, and I watched him pour his own. Straight black.

  It was the epitome of relaxation. Quiet. Serene. Beautiful. Coffee. And oh yeah, hot guy. Charming hot guy.

  “You like reading?”

  “I like hearing.” I smiled. He pulled a book from the basket.

  “What are you? Mary Poppins?” I laughed. “What else do you have in there?”

  “Some things I like to keep secret.”

  “I can find out secret things, you know. My best friend, Chloe, rubs shoulders with, like, the CIA.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been in compliance with them all summer.”

  “Ha, ha,” I shot back.

  He opened a book and started reading aloud. As I listened to him read, I realized that he wasn’t like any guy I’d ever known. I had never been with a witty, deep, intellectual type whose vocabulary went beyond “practice,” “dude,” “nachos,” “burger,” “totally,” and “ESPN.”

  Yes, the ingredients were majorly there for a girl to fall in a big way. Now all he needed to do was pull out an acoustic guitar, and I would be sold, just as long as he didn’t get like that creepy guy on The Bachelorette who sang about “guarding and protecting your heart” and then got the message of his undying love tattooed on his arm. Creepo! That was a little too die-hard romantic. Orien had the looks, the hotness, and the romantic mysterious side down, but he was playful, social, and balanced. Perfect.

  Speaking of perfect, we shared a perfect brunch-eggs he actually scrambled, chocolate chip muffins, and turkey bacon. Oh, and little bottles of orange juice. Afterward, we both let our food settle and lay back on the boat cushions letting the waves rock us.

  “Let me cook dinner for you tonight,” I said sleepily.

  “You haven’t had enough of me?”

  I chose not to answer. Instead, I leaned in, lifted my giant, oversized hat, and kissed him. “Is this a good answer?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hours later, he dropped me off and said he would be back in an hour so we could both freshen up. I made a dash like a mad woman and took the quickest shower possible. I pinned my beach waves in a loose, messy bun, and put on a nice, but casual, not-trying-too-hard, effortless, yet sexy dress. I lit a few candles, turned on some jazz music, and rinsed the vegetables as best as I could with my new handicap. Normally, I would have hand-chopped them, but since I couldn’t use my left hand, I pulled out the food processor.

  Like a man with an internal clock, he showed up an hour later, on the dot, as promised. I opened the door and flashed him my most alluring smile.

  He was dressed in skinny, dark-washed Nudie Jeans, a black button-up shirt, and leather flip-flops. This time, he had only one button unbuttoned. Dang it. He was the epitome of a male model in Times Square. I nearly walked into my couch from his hotness.

  “You look nice.”

  “You look beautiful.”

  We both said our compliments at the same time and laughed at ourselves.

  “I know I haven’t known you for too long, but your timing is impeccable. It’s like, right on.”

  “Well, I’m just an on-time type of guy. Can I help with anything?”

  He put his arm around me, and we walked back into the kitchen. “I love jazz,” he noted.

  And I love the way you smell and look!

  I felt myself going all doe-eyed, so I shook my head and went back to assembling the vegetables and getting them ready to go into the food processor.

  “Can I help you with anything?”

  “No, you can just go back to being your good-looking self, have a seat, and keep me company.”

  “A straightforward woman, I like it.”

  He placed a bottle of Pellegrino on the table. “I know you’re still on your pain meds, so no vino. Otherwise, it would look as if I were trying to take advantage of the situation. Pellegrino will have that nice touch with your pasta dish. Which reminds me, have you iced your wrist since we’ve been back?”

  My mind shot back to the last crazy hour of my primping, painting my face, and assembling the food—no ice.

  “Already did,” I lied and smiled angelically.

  I saw him looking at the food processor, so I said, “Yeah, I know. I hate using a food processor. The veggies won’t be chopped right. The texture will be off.”

  “Then, let me chop them for you.”

  He obviously wouldn’t take no for an answer. He walked over and put his arms around me. Goosebumps appeared on my arms; I turned around and looked at him.

  His face had perfect symmetry with full lips and warm eyes. Like I said, epitome of a model and the kind of man who had statues made in honor of his perfection.

  He kissed me on the cheek. “Let me finish chopping. I’m a good chopper, actually.”

  “Okay, okay.” I grabbed the ice pack out of the freezer, sat down, and iced my wrist. “Blasted wrist.” I let my chin rest on my hand, but not for long because then there was a knock at the door.

  It wasn’t the milkman, it wasn’t the mailman, and it wasn’t Josh coming back to apologize. There, behind door number one, stood Truett.

  Oh. My. Everlasting. Gosh.

  With… flowers. Pink sunflowers.

  I opened the door. My heart pounded with adrenaline, shock, apprehension, fear and, of course, nausea. Nerves always did that to me.

  “Norah, it’s not my baby,” he said.

  My heart beat like the loudest drum. I shook my head instinctively. “Okay? Bravo. You might have wanted to check that before you married her.”

  “I know, I know. I’m so sorry, baby. I just want to be with you. I want us to work. What do you say, Nor? Give me another chance?”

  “I… uh,”

  I heard Orien clear his throat behind me as his shoulder brushed mine to walk past me. “Excuse me, Norah. I should go. Sounds like you two have some discussing to do.“ He looked at me with sad eyes. “Take care of your wrist.”

  And then he left.

  “Wait!” I called after him.

  “Who’s that?” Truett asked.

  “He’s…“ I began.

  The guy I just kissed. The guy I’m falling for. I’m falling for? The guy who is a million times the man you are!

  I watched Orien get into this car. I tried to see if he saw me looking as he reversed, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  My anger seethed through my teeth. “Truett, you and I are history.”

  “What? Oh, come on, Nor. I can be whatever you want me to be. Remember our fun times together? Please, say you do.”

  “Yes, I do, but I also remember you cheated on me. Since you thought Alicia was carrying your baby, that meant you first had to make a baby, something you and I clearly never did, which is why this all hurts even worse.”

  He got down on his knees and literally began begging. “Please, Norah. My game is so off.
I need you. You always made me pitch the best I could.”

  Ignoring his pathetic plea, I said, “You know what? I’m in a good place, and I need you to leave.”

  The begging continued. “Baby, please. I need you.”

  “For crying out loud, stand up,” I ordered with complete saturation of annoyance.

  Like an obedient dog, he stood.

  I held up my left hand, “I appreciate your-“ I began. But then, I realized something. He never apologized. He just showed up looking debonair with the comment, ”It’s not mine.” With flowers and begging, but absolutely no apology.

  Then, I heard rustling in the nearby bushes and saw the lens of a thousand dollar-plus camera. Paparazzi.

  “Look. I don’t want to be hounded again, please leave, and please don’t contact me,” I hissed.

  “But Nor…“ He leaned in and tried to kiss me. I pushed back, but it was too late.

  Photos were taken. Even though we didn’t kiss, the illusion had already been photographed. The eager photographer jumped out of the bushes. No shame. He proceeded to walk right toward the front door.

  “Hey, you!” I pushed Truett back and headed toward the photographer. “Leave! Remember what my father said? We have friends, who have friends, who have friends who run Jersey. If you know what I mean. Now, leave,” I threatened, naturally raising my right hand in an attempt to ward him off.

  Click. Click.

  I looked down at my wrist and held it. I winced in pain.

  Another click.

  “Perfect,” he said in a foreign accent. “Now I can feed my family for two more months.”

  “Ugh!” I turned to march back inside the house but faced Truett one last time.

  “Please leave, Truett, and never contact me again,” I said with all the strength in me.

  “But-“

  “Please! For the love!” I slammed the door and called Orien immediately. But he didn’t answer.

  I called him again, but he had turned off his phone. I collapsed on the couch and let out a giant annoyed scream.

  “You freakin’ stupid boy!”

  I looked over my couch pillow to see if he was still standing there, which he was. I could see him through the glass.