Marry Screw Kill

by Liv Morris

  “It’s not over. I’ve changed.” He walks two steps toward me and I take two steps back. “I’ll let you hang out with Emma and go back to school.”

  Oh my God. His delusional mind believes I’ll go back to him. I can’t give him any room to believe it might be otherwise. I start walking away, toward the Pickwick Theater. I’m so freaked out, I can’t even remember where my car is parked.

  “You lied to me. Repeatedly.” I stop in my tracks with James walking beside me. “You knew me before we met. Stalked me.”

  “It’s not like that.” James looks surprised by my tone and confrontation. I am not the same vulnerable Harlow he met after my mother was murdered. I stand up to him without a thought. Therapy and love does that to a person.

  “You bought nursing classes for my mother. Were you with her, too?” I sling my backpack over my shoulders.

  “I helped her to help you.” He manipulated everyone to get what he wanted—me. I have no reason to believe him, so I turn and continue toward the theater.

  “You are sick, James,” I yell over my shoulder. I will not let him control me. Never again.

  I remember where my car is parked and head toward it, praying I make it without a problem. I consider yelling “rape” or “fire” to get help from the busy passersby.

  “Who says I’m sick? Sin?” James hisses, grabbing hold of my arm as I get closer to my vehicle. His fingers grip me to the point of pain. I see my car in the distance and hope I can make it there.

  “Let go of me, James.” I jerk my arm out of his hold and run. I only need to cross the street to make it to my car. I hit the asphalt and dash forward.

  “Harlow,” James calls. He’s so close, it’s like he’s whispering in my ear.

  I feel the steely grip of his fingers again as he pulls me to a stop in the middle of the street. The screeching sound of brakes makes me turn my head. A large dump truck barrels toward us with his horn blaring. He doesn’t have time to stop. I am about to die.

  I’m catapulted forward while the screeching brakes of the truck ring in my ears. I hit the pavement with a thud, but nothing hits me. I glance over my shoulder and see James flying through the air. His body lands on the pavement in a brutal fashion a few yards from me.

  The truck hit him straight on, but he pushed me out of the way. I begin to cry, realizing he saved my life.

  His body lies in a motionless heap. I push myself off the pavement and run toward him. I can’t get to his side fast enough.

  James lies with his eyes open wide, but he’s not moving. I cup his cheek in my hand as he stares up at me. He smiles weakly, even with his body broken and bleeding.

  Warm blood trickles over my fingers, but I ignore it. He deserves the best I can give him as he takes what might be his last breath.

  “Forgive me, Harlow.” Tears stream down my face. I fear it’s his dying wish, so I do what’s right.

  “I forgive you.” He saved me from the truck, giving himself up for me. In his own twisted way, he loves me.

  “Thank you,” he says in a raspy whisper. I watch his eyes turn to a vacant stare and I know he’s gone. No more.

  Minutes go by and voices compel me to look away from James. He has died, and I feel nothing but sorrow for the man he could’ve been.

  “Miss.” A light tap on my shoulder startles me. I glance up at a police officer leaning over me, his brown eyes filled with concern.

  “He’s gone,” I say.

  “I know.” The officer offers his hand to me and I take it. He helps me stand. “Why don’t you come sit in my car?”

  I follow the officer to a black sedan, but look over my shoulder to where James is lying alone on the ground. His whole life came down to one instant, and he saved me in it.

  The officer opens the back door of his squad car. “You can sit here, miss. I’ll need to talk to you later.”

  “Thanks,” I say while climbing into the back seat. Its closed area feels safe and far removed from the tragedy I just walked away from. An allusion, as Becca would say.

  The patrol car door stands wide open and the officer leans down. “Is there anyone you would like to call?”

  This time, I have an answer: Sin.

  Epilogue

  Sinclair

  “There she is. Do you see her?” Margaret asks, pointing toward a long line of graduates decked in maroon-colored gowns. They’re proceeding down an aisle and filling the rows of empty seats. I spot Harlow’s golden hair. There’s no way to miss her.

  “I do.” I place my hands in my pocket and smile. No matter how many people are around us, I always feel this invisible pull toward her. I gave up fighting it long ago, likely on the second day after we met.

  “I see her, too,” my grandmother, Nina, says while standing on her tiptoes.

  I’m standing at Harlow’s graduation ceremony at Brooklyn College with grandmothers on each side of me and I’m totally fine with it. We take our seats as the last graduate sits down and the ceremony begins.

  “You have everything ready?” Nina leans over and whispers in my ear. I grin and give her a thumbs up.

  A professor announces name after name as the graduates walk across the stage to receive their diplomas. The next row of students rises from their seats and proceeds to the back of the procession.

  Harlow is impossible to miss in the line with her blond hair contrasting against the dark graduation gown. She stands tall while taking small, measured steps forward. She’s worked hard as hell over the last four years and I’m so damn proud of her.

  Last summer, Harlow had an internship with a prestigious Manhattan publisher. They have offered her a position after graduation and she starts in two weeks. I have a few weeks off before my next year of school, so we are heading to the Bahamas for a relaxing vacation.

  We need time away from the pace of this city to decompress. Between my demanding schedule at Columbia and her final year at Brooklyn, some days we hardly saw each other, even living together. So a few days relaxing on a white sandy beach as we gaze out over the turquoise waters should revive us. Then again, it might be just as relaxing to spend our days in bed since we’ll have an ocean view from all the rooms.

  Nina and Margaret sit on either side of me and I place my arms over the backs of their chairs. Harlow and I are so damned lucky to have them in our lives.

  When Harlow and Margaret came to the city for the first time, we were able to talk Margaret into moving here. She went back to Park Ridge, sold her home, and shared an apartment with Harlow for a year.

  Harlow took Becca’s advice and lived apart from me, although her apartment was only a few blocks over from mine. She slept over at my place more often than her own, but she had the independence of choosing.

  Over the last four years, I’ve watched the meek, shy Harlow of Rochester morph into a determined New Yorker. She even yells at cabbies now.

  “They’re getting ready to call out her name,” Margaret says, straining to see over the heads of people sitting in front of us. “I only wish her mother could see her. She’d be so proud.” Margaret wipes her eyes.

  “Me, too,” I sigh.

  “Harlow Masters,” the master of ceremonies announces in a formal tone.

  She walks across the stage, smiling from ear to ear, beaming with joy. My beautiful Harlow shakes the hand of the college president and then leaves the stage. It’s one of the proudest moments of my life. She returns to her seat with a bounce in her step.

  After everyone has formally graduated, a speaker ends the ceremony asking all the graduates to move their tassels to the other side of their caps and a few fly up in the air as shouts ring out over the crowd.

  “Are you ready, Sin?” Nina gives me a sly smile. “Here’s the box.”

  Nina takes my graduation present to Harlow from her purse and hands it to me. My hands aren’t even shaking. I’m ready to officially make Harlow mine forever.

  Margaret hands me an empty Dunkin’ Donuts sack with the words, “Harlow Master
s, will you marry me?” written across it in black Sharpie.

  The grandmothers and I exit our row and head to the back of the venue. We agreed to meet Harlow there after the ceremony and they’re standing at my side.

  Harlow breaks free from the crowd of maroon robes and starts to head in our direction. I glance to each side and see the encouraging smiles of the other two women in my life.

  It’s show time.

  I drop to one knee and hold up the sack. Harlow slows as she tries to make out the sign. I know the instant she can read it. She stops and becomes as still as a statue, her mouth forming into a perfect “O”. Her hands fly up to her cheeks in total surprise.

  A few seconds later, she’s all glowing smiles and running toward me as fast as her heels will allow. Her gown billows around her, but she doesn’t slow down as she approaches. She’s still barreling on, full speed.

  I stand up in just enough time to catch her in my arms. The sack lies long forgotten on the ground by my feet. I spin her around in my arms and she throws her head back in bliss.

  “Marry me,” I say, and she raises her head to look into my eyes. I stop spinning and her feet touch the ground, but we don’t break our embrace.

  “Yes,” she breathes.

  My lips descend on hers as I kiss the beautiful woman who will be my wife. She thinks I rescued her, but truly, she’s the one who set my heart free. I have the rest of my life to thank her for it, too.

  THE END

  NOTE TO READER

  Thank you for taking Harlow’s journey with me. She learned she’s not an object to be owned, but a being to be loved.

  May I ask a favor? If you share a review of this book (and thank you if you do), consider keeping the “exacts” of the ending secret. Thanks for your understanding.

  xo,

  Liv

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  BOOKS By LIV MORRIS

  Adam’s Apple

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  Touch of Tantra

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Where to begin…

  To my sweet Nomad. I met you when I was eighteen and knew nothing about love, but I hit the husband jackpot. We just fit. Thank you for supporting me, pushing me when I needed it, and letting go when it was for the best. You are my life and without you in it, I am nothing.

  To my three beautiful grown daughters… Fair warning! This book contains sex. I know you think you were immaculately conceived, so I don’t want you to read this and faint.

  To my crazy bestie, Kelly. Everyday, I thank the good lord for What’s App. It’s almost as good as a phone call…

  Ruth, Suzie, Michelle E., Michelle G., Pam M, Pam G, Taylor, and Marla. You all have been such dear friends to me and I love you for it.

  To my lovely and gracious friend, Erika, You will always be my forever inspiration as a writer. Thank you.

  To my dear agent and friend, Rebecca Friedman, thanks for believing in me as a person and writer. I love you.

  Big thanks to The Rock Stars of Romance for their awesome support in helping me spread the word about MSK. Lisa H., you truly do rock!

  Thanks, Ashley P. for giving me the idea for MSK’s ending…. And thank you, Penelope R. for suggesting the twist it needed. I will always buy you two the first round whenever we’re together.

  To my FTN’ers… You all are my oasis. I am blessed to be a part of the group and the circle of trust, and the crazy, and the laughter. You all always brighten my day.

  Thanks Liz for talking me off the ledge so many times. It was a long a**ed journey.

  Thanks B.J. for understanding the “hard to write” book and pushing me to get it done so you could read. It worked.

  Adam brought us together, Donna, and I’m very thankful he did. You have been my biggest personal cheerleader. Thanks for shaking your pompoms.

  Laurie Sue, you have lived such a full and wonderful life. Thanks for sharing your experiences with me along with your friendship.

  Stacy H. you’re a writer’s dream, supportive, kind, and willing to help in anyway. You’re a special person. I’m so thankful we met.

  Thanks to Monica Black. I typed the words, and as my editor, you made them readable. Bless you and your flexibility. You are one of a kind.

  Lauren Schmelz, you set me straight with your content edits by saying Sin needed to be the anti-James. I tried to stick to your advice.

  Marla you are the eagle-eye for my words. Thanks for all the proofing you did with this book. I believe a million drinks are on me.

  Finally, to a God I’ve never seen, but know is real. I thank you for every breath I breathe.