A Life That Fits

by Heather Wardell

  When we broke apart, I managed, "What brought that on?"

  He smiled, his eyes alight with happiness and amusement. "You're my sign."

  "I think I'm glad to be your sign but I don't get it."

  His hand stroked gently over my hair. "Since you left, I've been making changes. Clarissa and her husband live down the street, and she's happy to spend time with Dad in the evenings because she's trying to make a career change into working with Alzheimer's patients. She wanted to before but I couldn't bring myself to let her. I joined a volleyball league, which is where I was tonight, and I'm taking an advanced analysis course at the university on Tuesday nights. And I have at least one more night free a week, and maybe more if Clarissa has time."

  His earlier words about needing to be with Martin all the time came back to me, and I took a breath to ask but he was there ahead of me. "I know, it means I don't see Dad as much. But we talked about it, and it turns out he's been worried about how little I do other than take care of him. He wants me to go out and live. So now I am. I decided to reverse things in my life. Thanks to you." He reached out and brushed my cheek.

  I shivered, and he smiled.

  "But what's the sign thing?"

  His smile widened. "As I was leaving volleyball, I was thinking about how I've managed to free up some of my time, which is good, but I don't want to spend all that time by myself. Remember when we were at the mall talking about needing a sign? I told myself I needed one now, a sign that I should be leaving Dad with Clarissa and living my own life. Then I turn into the driveway, and there you are. My sign."

  My throat tightened. Were we that connected, that I somehow knew he needed me to show up today? I didn't know, but I loved the idea, so I hugged him hard and said into his chest, "So now what?"

  I hadn't meant to echo what he'd said after our kisses in the rain, but we both chuckled, remembering.

  He squeezed me. "Same as I said then. We're great. And we'll keep being great."

  I longed to stay in his arms but I had to know where we stood so I drew back enough that I could see his face. "But how will we be great?"

  "Do you have any evenings free?"

  I nodded. "Thursdays."

  His eyes danced. "Any chance you'd give me every Thursday night? And then we'd be on our own the rest of the time. Single six days a week and then together Thursday nights. What do you think?"

  I pressed my face to his shoulder. I thought it was crazy, but I loved it. I thought joy and excitement were flooding me. I thought my gut was delighted. But I thought one more thing too. "Are you really okay with that?"

  He kissed the top of my head. "Here's the thing. I want to be with Dad in whatever alert time he has left. I need some time to myself but I want to spend lots with him too. I'm truly not ready for a full-time relationship either. But, Andrea?"

  I looked up and the emotion in his eyes made me gasp even before he said, "You have no idea how much I've missed you."

  My arms tightened around his neck. "Oh, I think I do. Almost as much as I've missed you."

  "More." He pulled me closer. "We can make this work. We'll adjust whenever we have to so we're both getting what we need. Andrea, will you be my part-time girlfriend?"

  I looked into his eyes and saw only happiness and certainty there. I checked in with my gut and found exactly the same thing. "Loren, Thursday is now officially my favorite day of the week. Yes. Please."

  He grinned and kissed me, sweet at first but with that blinding passion rising between us.

  I pressed myself against him and kissed him back, and nothing had ever felt so right. No doubts, no fears, no worries about how we'd make it work. I knew we would. We were meant to.

  He ended the kiss and cuddled me against his shoulder. "There's only one more question."

  I snuggled closer. "Okay."

  "Today is Wednesday. So will we pretend it's Thursday or should you get lost?"

  I looked up at him, into his mischievous eyes, and pretended to be contemplating. "Well, it's been a few weeks since I've seen you, so maybe we can have a second night this week. What do you think?"

  He grinned. "Oh, I think so. We'll reverse the rules. But just this once. Come on in. I'll get changed, since I can't look this scruffy with such a gorgeous part-time girlfriend, and then we can hang out with Dad. Exciting, huh?"

  I hugged him hard. "Definitely. But don't change. You look adorable."

  He blushed, and I kissed him again.

  We went inside, where Martin's happiness at seeing me and Loren together nearly made me cry, then we all settled down for some television. It wasn't exactly a hot date, but I sat cuddled up to my part-time boyfriend, my knight in torn jeans and a dirty t-shirt, and knew I'd finally made myself a life that fit me like my perfect suede boots.

  Acknowledgements

  The great picture on the front cover is by www.istockphoto.com/geotrac. I knew it was Andrea the second I saw it!

  Huge thanks to Holly MacLeod for reading every draft of this book and every other book I've written. I'll make you into a romance reader yet!

  Beth MacLeod and Tanya Sweeney and Jess Wilkinson gave me even more brilliant feedback than they usually do and the book is far better as a result. Thank you so much.

  To my husband, thank you yet again. If I write a hundred novels I still won't have enough acknowledgement pages to thank you enough for all your support and encouragement and ridiculous book ideas that make me feel better about my own.

  And finally, a monster thanks to every one of my Facebook pals. I really want to list all your names but then the acknowledgements might be longer than the book! I really appreciate your support and great insightful comments on titles and covers and your uncanny ability to post a "loved your book" note right when I need it most.

  Thank you.

  I so appreciate your reading "A Life That Fits" and I hope you enjoyed it. I would love to know what you thought, so feel free to send me your feedback! You can reach me through my website (http://www.heatherwardell.com), on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/heather.wardell.author), or on Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/heatherwardell).

  If you feel so moved, it would be wonderful if you could post a review to your favorite book-related website, as word of mouth is hugely helpful.

  Read on to see a preview of my next book. Thanks again, and happy reading!

  What's Coming Next?

  My next book is currently untitled, but here's a short description and the first few pages. If you're not on my mailing list already, you can sign up at http://www.heatherwardell.com and I'll be sure to let you know when the book is available.

  In this new book, Amy finally achieves the goal she's been after: creating a CD of her songs. But when her video goes viral and she becomes the next big pop star, how will she remember who she really is?

  Chapter One

  I moved into the last few words of the best song I'd ever written, the band and I slamming ahead with everything we had to give, and wished time could stand still forever. Being on that stage felt a thousand times wilder than the craziest roller coaster, a million times more exciting than sex, better than anything I could imagine, and I didn't want it to end. Neither did the audience, from what I could see with the stage lights blazing in my eyes and refracting off my hot pink fake eyelashes.

  But it had to end, of course. Nothing that good could last forever. So I sang, nearly shrieked, "Live out loud!", and the band cut off in perfect unison as I threw my head back in triumph.

  The crowd burst into applause and cheers, and I shaded my eyes with my hand and grinned at them. "What?" I said into the microphone. "Did you like that or something?"

  Further cheers, and I laughed because I'd never felt so alive. "Me too, my friends, me too."

  I turned to look for Blake, knowing what I'd see, and sure enough he had his ever-present camera up. I'd never understood how his girlfriend Evelyn could stand his capturing every instant of their lives on video, but it would be nice to see a recordin
g of this performance. I blew him kisses with both hands, then told the crowd, "I can't thank you enough for being here. The best birthday present ever. But hold on for a few minutes, okay? I'll be right back. Gotta get changed."

  They laughed as I tugged at the impossibly short pink miniskirt I wore. It had been Giselle's in high school, and when I'd had the idea the night before to dress up in something typically popstar to sing my so-not-typically-popstar first song, I'd known I had to wear it. I needed Giselle with me, needed her strength and determination. Unfortunately, to wear her skirt well I also needed to be a good four inches shorter and ten pounds smaller.

  Still, it had entertained the audience. I left the stage, wobbling on my unfamiliar high heels but grinning at the memory of their shocked faces when I walked out in the tiny skirt with a matching hot pink wig covering my hair and a black bra showing beneath the sheer leopard-print top I'd found at a thrift store to tie the whole mess together. A long way from my typical jeans-and-t-shirt outfits.

  Though I knew everyone was waiting, I gave myself one moment to breathe before changing and going back out. I'd sung in public before, but never like this. Never in a bar, never for an audience of over a hundred, and never for so many friends-of-friends and friends-of-friends-of-friends. Never on my twenty-fifth birthday.

  And of course, never to launch my first CD.

  I stood savoring the glowing warmth of finally finally finally reaching a goal I'd set for myself. It had been twenty-five years coming, but for once in my life I could say I'd done something I'd planned. I'd decided six months ago to make a CD of my own songs by my birthday and I'd done it. Tonight celebrated and commemorated it.

  And next I could--

  No. Not tonight. I didn't need to think about the center and how I would get it running tonight. This was my time. The goal I'd shared with Giselle, which I was at last capable of completing alone in her honor, could wait until tomorrow. She would have understood. She'd understood everything about me. I'd never have a friend like her again, and I'd given up trying to find one. The crowd out there were my acquaintances but only Giselle had been a true friend.

  I quickly changed into jeans and a teal t-shirt then glanced at myself in the mirror. My hair was a mess after the wig and my wildly overdone makeup hadn't survived the stage lights and my fake eyelashes looked ridiculous, but none of that mattered. My eyes were on fire, burning with a passion I'd never seen in them before. All that mattered was the music. My music. And the people who wanted to hear it.

  I went out and shared it with them, and with myself, until my throat was sore.

  *****

  When I woke up after noon, I lay in bed luxuriating in the great memories. The delight I'd experienced onstage, then the hours at the bar selling all fifty of the CDs I'd brought and giving out tons of homemade postcards explaining where to buy the music electronically, while I accepted endless teasing about my ridiculous stage outfit and congratulations and compliments for my songs and the party itself. My launch plan, which I'd spent hours on and reviewed so many times I knew it as well as my lyrics, had gone off without a hitch.

  At the moment, though, my favorite memory was having included "book off work the day after launch" in the plan. I was a barely adequate waitress at the best of times, and since I'd been up until five in the morning because I was too wired to sleep today wouldn't be the best of times, especially since Tuesday was "Seniors' Day" at the Setherwood Cafe and I didn't get along well with seniors. Funny, since my parents were now both in their seventies.

  I rolled over, snuggling into my comforter, and pulled my mind away from the job that made me money to instead think about how I wanted to use that money. A bit to live on, of course, but I had far bigger dreams for the rest. Giselle and I had dreamed of starting a center, a place where confused and lost teenage girls could find themselves, and now that I'd succeeded at one goal I would figure out how to succeed at the important one.

  But right then I didn't want to figure anything out. I wanted to enjoy my triumph. So I did. I stayed in my cozy bed and relived my night until I was too hungry to stay put any longer.

  Wishing Jason was home so I could beg him to get me food, I crawled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Thinking of my absent boyfriend brought my mood down a few notches. Of all the times to have to go to Dubai for a meeting! I'd so wanted him at my launch party, but he'd said there was nothing he could do.

  Sadness threatened to overwhelm me, but I started singing "Out Loud", right there in the kitchen, and my lyrics pushed it away. Jason would be back soon and everything would be fine.

  Once I'd pulled myself back together, I made toast and microwaved some soup then fired up my laptop so I could check email while I ate and see if I'd received any more congratulations.

  My inbox appeared, and I dropped my spoon into the bowl, barely noticing as I splashed my pajama top with tomato soup.

  Six hundred and seventeen new messages?

  If I got seventeen in a day, it was unusual. Who'd sent the other six hundred?

  The first few seemed to have been written by monkeys with a few broken fingers.

  That song rocks but teh others r crap.

  can u giv me free cd? Kthnxbai.

  Pnk grrl, i luvs u.

  But the fourth, while easier to read, was even harder to comprehend.

  Gorgeous song and great performance. Please contact me regarding contract opportunities.

  I didn't recognize the sender's name, but the signature referenced Griffin Records. How had they, one of the best record labels in Toronto, heard of me?

  I didn't get that question answered until I'd waded through about fifteen more monkey-style emails.

  Amy, call me. Call me before you talk to anyone else. You're going to be huge and Sapphire Angel is perfect for you.

  The signature file said, "Jo. Sapphire Angel Music," like she was Cher or Britney, too famous for a little detail like a last name. But I was more interested in the email that had been forwarded to her, which she'd left in her email to me.

  "Jo, check out this video. We should grab her ASAP. Nancy."

  I clicked the video link, which took me to a music blog I knew well since it belonged to Blake's girlfriend Evelyn, and was soon watching myself dancing and singing in that inane outfit. I'd hoped Evelyn might mention my CD on her blog but she'd never offered and I hadn't wanted to ask her to do it. Blake must have emailed her the video while I was changing my clothes, because she'd posted it before I'd even finished the concert, along with a link to my web site.

  My web site. Maybe this attention would score me a few downloads.

  Try a few hundred thousand downloads.

  I stared at the counter for a shocked moment, then logged into the payment system Jason had set up for me and stared at the thousands of dollars I'd already received. Then I checked my page on the do-it-yourself site where I'd published the physical CD and stared at multiple reviews saying some variation of, "That song rocks but teh others r crap." Then I stared at my kitchen table.

  What the hell was going on? Did Evelyn have that big an audience?

  I began an Internet search on myself, feeling weirdly egotistical, and soon understood. Evelyn's blog had barely two hundred followers, but her post had been reposted on several huge music news sites, and from there it had spread like glitter in the wind. Everywhere I looked, every music industry site I could find, had either the original post or a mention of its huge popularity with of course a link to the original.

  I had gone viral.

  Also by Heather Wardell

  Life, Love, and a Polar Bear Tattoo (free download)

  Go Small or Go Home

  Seven Exes Are Eight Too Many

  Planning to Live

  Stir Until Thoroughly Confused

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

 
; Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter One