I’ve received three letters from Missy since my visit, and each one has been thrown in the trash, unopened. The media attention has died off after no one was willing to give interviews, even for the vast amount of money they were throwing out for exclusive stories.
They brought more charges onto Missy after her admission to me at the prison, but she took a plea again and it never went to trial. Last night, Luke sent me a report, claiming Missy was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and she was finally seeking treatment for it. Who knows how long she’s been suffering with it? But, with her parents’ need to keep a clean appearance, I’m sure it’s been for years. With her new diagnosis, she wants an appeal now that she is in the right state of mind.
That’s the shitty thing about mental illness.
People are afraid to ask for help.
They’re ashamed, afraid to be the brunt of a joke, and they feel weak. Not a day will go by that I’ll forgive Missy, but the state of her mental awareness casts understanding in me.
I say my last good-bye to Andy’s gravestone as the sun starts to set behind it.
Forty-One
Lauren
“Something smells good,” Gage sings out after walking into the loft. He starts to dance by the stove. “And my girl is making gumbo!”
Our initial plan was to buy a house, but we delayed the house-hunting in exchange for staying in the loft. Amos enjoys having us around, and we like his company just as much. It took time for Gage to fully forgive his father for what he’d asked me to do so many years ago, but they’re working on strengthening their relationship.
Life is more relaxing when there are no secrets.
It took us a week after Ronnie's assault before we managed to walk into the loft without wanting to puke, but eventually, we put that in the back of our minds. Ronnie is locked up, and more women have come forward with claims that he assaulted them.
From what Gage says, the bastard will be spending a good chunk of his life in jail for the assaults and the apparent drug ring he had going on … in my old apartment building.
I jump off the couch and snap my fingers to stop Gage from taking a bite from the pot. We finally broke down and bought a new couch … after breaking our cherished, memory-holding one during a night of drunken sex. I still miss that ugly-ass thing though.
I swat his hand away when I reach him. “Don’t you dare touch that! It’s for dinner tonight.”
Gage frowns and drops the spoon. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re no fun, Dyson?”
I smack his stomach. “You didn’t say that last night, and I doubt you’ll be saying it when we get back from dinner with my family.”
He pulls me into him and wraps his arms around me. “I love it when you play dirty.”
Amos bursts into the loft without knocking. “You two ready to go? I have a bet with Hudson on the game, and you know how much I hate losing money.”
Gage is in charge of holding the gumbo as we walk down the steps and get into his truck. Our monthly family dinners have expanded. Amos along with Gage are always invited. Kyle has also been known to make a few appearances. He claims it’s because my mom makes great food, but we all know he likes me more than he puts on. I’ve graduated from the Satan nickname.
This dinner is important to us tonight.
I move around in my seat, unable to get comfortable, as excitement thrums through me.
Gage leans in before starting the truck. “How long are we waiting before we break the news?” he asks.
“As it’s looking right now, about ten seconds,” I answer.
I’m going to chicken out. I’m going to chicken out.
My breathing catches in my throat when I stand up and look at everyone sitting at the long outdoor table in my parents’ backyard. Gage and I didn’t have a plan on when we were breaking the news, but he said he’d wait until I made the first move.
All eyes go to me. My mom sets her drink down, and my dad drops the spoon in his hand. I feel like the main character in a movie who’s about to announce a life-changing event.
Granted, I am making an announcement about a life-changing event.
I look down and glare at Gage, who’s still in his chair next to me. I flick the top of his head, and he tosses his napkin on the table before standing up and clearing his throat.
There’s a beaming smile on his face that hasn’t left since we got the news. I nod, giving him the go-ahead, wanting him to have this moment.
He throws his hands up. “We’re having a baby!”
The celebrations occur, and my family is already making bets on whether we’ll have a boy or girl. All I want is a healthy baby and to be the best mother I can be. I have no doubt that Gage will fulfill the perfect father role. The light on his face when the doctor confirmed the nineteen tests we’d taken were for sure positive was something I wished I could take a picture of and keep forever.
I had held back from asking Gage if he wanted to have children. It was a sensitive topic I wasn’t sure how to approach. Luckily, he came to me after cumming in me. He helped clean me up and then asked me what I thought about going off birth control and starting a family. Even though he asked it so casually, I knew it meant so much for him to say those words. I had no hesitation in answering him with a yes, but I questioned if he was sure. He nodded, took my hand, and we went to the bathroom together to toss my pills in the trash.
This is his second chance.
Our second chance.
As the evening turns into dawn, Amos is at our side, telling everyone good-bye. He wraps his arms around me and Gage and grins. “You three ready to go home?”
Epilogue
Gage
I grin as I stare at the screen.
It’s our first ultrasound. I don’t think either one of us managed to get a minute of sleep last night. We spent our time throwing out possible baby names and talking about nursery paint colors, and we discussed whether the baby would look more like her or me.
Lauren’s face shines as she squeezes my hand, her focus on the screen as well. “Our first view of our little one.”
“I can’t wait to meet him or her.”
We hold our breath and nod when the tech asks if we want to know the sex.
We nod.
It’s a girl.
We’re having a princess.
The tech consumes our attention while she shows us our daughter. She has an adorable face with my nose even though Lauren disputes that you can’t see any facial features yet.
The photo stays in my hand the entire ride back to our new home. It pained us to leave the loft, but there wasn’t enough room for our growing family. We’re only minutes away from my dad if he needs anything. The ultrasound photo gets put into a frame, and we settle it between a picture of Lauren and me and one of Andy after his first soccer game.
I’ve begun dealing with my guilt over losing Andy. The pain of being unable to stop his death will always be there, but it’s less frequent now. He’s my son whom I lost too soon, a little man who crawled into my life and made it brighter each day. I hope I did the same for him during the small amount of time he had here.
I grab his photo and relax on the couch while wiping a single tear as I stare at my first child. He would’ve been a kick-ass big brother. Our little girl would have screamed at him for helping me warn off boyfriends, and I could’ve shown him Blue Beech. His smile would’ve lit our small town up.
Lauren plops down next to me, and I rub her growing stomach before placing the photo of him on top of it.
“This is your big bro,” I whisper, leaning down so that my mouth is at her bellybutton, hoping our girl can understand every word even though it’s doubtful. “I’ll tell you all about him when you get older. He would’ve loved you so much.”
Lauren strokes my hair as a sob leaves her throat.
She visited Andy’s grave with me last month. We bought hot dogs at his favorite stand at the Navy Pier and took them to his place of peace, making sure we ha
d an extra one for him. I now have to live off the good memories, so the bad ones don’t pull me back into the darkness.
“Our little girl will be happy, knowing Andy is watching over her like a guardian angel,” Lauren whispers.
“He’ll be the best damn big brother ever,” I muster out.
I kiss her stomach one last time before falling to my knees. The small box has been lodged in my pocket all day after I asked John for his blessing. I exhale while looking up into her curious eyes. Since I asked my dad for my mother’s ring, I’ve been debating on whether to make it a private or public proposal. My mind wasn’t made up until this very moment.
She says yes.
Giving someone a second chance is oftentimes frowned upon.
Sometimes a second chance isn’t an option, but we were lucky enough to realize we’re stronger together.
We’re no longer exes.
We’re going to be husband and wife.
We’re going to be parents.
We’re going to be happy.
A Note From Charity
When I finish a book, I always say I’m taking a week off. That never happens. Instead, I open a new document and start my next project with excitement, if I hadn’t already. I loved Lauren in Dallas and Hudson’s stories. Her book had been plotted out for months before I got started. I got so wrapped up in her story and wanted to put my all into giving you one that would make you believe in second chance love. Hopefully, I did.
Thank you so, so, so much for reading her and Gage’s story. I would love to know what you though while going through the emotional rollercoaster of their romance. If you have time, please leave an honest review, shoot me a message, or comment on any of my social media or website posts.
As always, the best place to keep up with me is my Reader Group—Charity Ferrell Reader Group.
I’ve also included the Prologue and first chapter of Just One Night. It’s Dallas and Willow’s story.
xoxo,
Charity
Preview of Just One Night -Prologue
Willow
“What the fuck have I done?”
I’ve never had a one-night stand, but I’m positive those aren’t the first words you want to hear the morning after.
I twist in the warm yet unfamiliar sheets and can taste last night’s whiskey in my mouth.
I lick my lips—wrong move—and regret it when the flavor of him hits my tongue.
Him.
The man pacing in front of me with his head tipped down while wearing only boxer briefs that show off his bulge.
I’ve lost count of the number of times the word fuck has fallen from his mouth.
I don’t know what to say.
Don’t know what to do.
“How the fuck could I have done this?” he continues.
My heart rams into my rib cage, just as hell-bent on escaping this situation as I am.
I’m stupid.
So damn stupid.
I drag the sheet up until it hits my chin, and he runs a hand through his thick bedhead hair, tugging at the roots the same way I did last night when he went down on me. He doesn’t know I am awake and can hear him, but that doesn’t make the wound any less severe.
His head rises when I jump out of bed and start scrambling for my clothes. The sheet drops from my body at the same time I frantically pull my dress over my head.
I have to get out of here.
Our eyes meet as I yank my panties up my legs. Apology and torture spill across his clenching jaw. The tears are coming, warning me to look away so that he won’t see my humiliation, but I can’t. I stare and silently beg him to change the outcome of this morning. The string to our stare down is cut by the sound of my name, a mere whisper falling from his loose lips.
I dart out of the bedroom, snag my purse I drunkenly threw over the arm of the couch, and rush toward the front door, not even bothering to search for my heels.
I refuse to glance back, but I hear him. No, I feel him behind me.
“Willow, please,” he pleads to my back with a strained voice while I fight with the lock.
I slam my fist against it. When did they start making these things so damn difficult?
“Don’t cry.” He blows out a stressed breath. “Just give me a fucking minute, okay?”
Relief hits me when the lock finally cooperates, and I slam the glass door in his face at the same time he repeats my name. I nearly trip on my feet when I jump down the porch steps.
I pause when I make it to the last one.
One more.
Against my will, I turn around for one last glance.
He’s staring at me in agony with the door handle gripped in his hand. For a split second, I’m stupid enough to think he’ll fix this. Stupid enough to believe he’ll say something, do something to make this right.
But he doesn’t.
He drops the handle, spreads both palms against the glass, and bows his head.
That’s my cue to get the hell out of here.
Fuck him.
Fuck whiskey.
Fuck my stupid decisions.
This is what I get for sleeping with a man mourning his dead wife.
Chapter One
Willow
Three Months later
I should’ve never answered his call.
“Have you been smoking crack?” I screech into the phone. “I’m telling Stella to break up with you. I can’t have my best friend screwing a dude who does crack.” I’m deleting him from my Contacts as soon as the call ends. I can’t associate myself with someone this batshit crazy.
Hudson sucks in what sounds like an irritated breath. “No, Willow, I’m not smoking crack. It’ll be the icing on the cake if you show. She misses you.”
“You know I can’t come back there.” My throat tightens, the memory of that night crashing through my mind like a horror movie that keeps you up late at night. Hell, he does keep me up at night.
“It’s not like you’re fucking blacklisted. You’ve chosen not to come back. I emailed you your flight information. See you in a few days.”
The line goes dead.
Asswad.
I grip my phone, ready to call him back and tell him to shove that ticket up his ass, but I can’t.
I can’t because he’s proposing to my boss/best friend at her surprise birthday party. Stella deserves this—deserves love, happiness, and her best friend in attendance for one of the most important nights of her life. So, I’ll put my hate of the small town aside and risk seeing him—the jackass whose bed I fled from after our very drunken and very regrettable one-night stand.
He’ll be in attendance, given it’s his brother doing the proposing, which means I have to put my big-girl panties on, keep them on, and refrain from smashing a wine glass over his head.
All while keeping the biggest secret of my life.
While staying sober.
This will be interesting.
Some people believe in soul mates.
I believe in champagne and cupcakes.
The problem tonight is that I can only binge on one of the above, and it’s not the one I prefer.
I get a whiff of Stella’s signature rose perfume before she cages me in for a hug. I squeeze her tight, a silent sorry that I’ve been a sucky friend, and we’re both nearly gasping for breath by the time we release each other.
Damn, I’ve missed my best friend and how I could always confide in her without judgment. That’s changed now. My secret will destroy her relationship.
“I can’t believe you came,” she cries out with a red-lipped smile. “How did Hudson convince you? Buy you a mini pony? Promise to kick Dallas in the balls?”
I laugh. “Two horses actually. And I didn’t consider the second option, so thanks for the idea. I’ll add it to my list of demands next time.”
I snag her manicured hand to admire the glistening princess cut diamond sitting beautifully on her finger. It’s perfection and so Stella—nothing too exuberant or ob
noxious but still flashy.
“I have to give it to the corn-fed, small-town boy,” I go on. “He did a kick-ass job in the ring department.”
She stares down at her finger, her smile now nearly taking over her entire face. “He did, didn’t he?”
Hudson threw her a great party. He invited the few family members she talks to, his family, and everyone on the cast and crew of her show. There’s food galore, confetti sprinkled all over the white-tableclothed tables, and a Happy Birthday banner hangs in front of the empty DJ booth.
Stella is not only my boss, but also childhood star turned Hollywood’s princess. I’m her assistant. That’s how I met Mr. Wrong One-Night Stand. We worked together for years until he quit to move back home, and Hudson took his job.
Hudson couldn’t give Stella mansions or fancy cars, but he did shower her with enough love and happiness to make up for it. She moved from LA to Blue Beech, Iowa, after convincing a producer to shoot her new show here. I tried to resign, but she wasn’t having it and agreed to let me do all my work from my apartment in LA.
Her hands rest on her hips over the black designer dress. “Are you staying with us tonight? I just put a new smart TV in the guest room, and we know how much you like your classic movies.”
I grimace. “That’s a giant hell no. The last thing you need around on the night of your engagement is Willow, the giant contraceptive. I’m crashing at Lauren’s.”
Lauren is Hudson’s and Mr. Wrong’s sister.
She groans. “Fine, I’ll settle for that because you showed up. That’s a big deal, and you did it for me.”
I crack a smile. “I also came for the cake.” That comment results in her pushing my shoulder.
Her face turns serious. “Have you seen him?”
The mention of him gives me a nasty taste in my mouth. “Who?” She crosses her arms at my response, and I scoff, my heart racing, “Oh, you mean the bed evacuator? Nope.”
Just Exes Page 23
