Love Reconnected (Hollywood Series Book 1)

by Michaels, Avery

  I lay there staring at the clock until after one a.m. It took that long for the adrenaline to wear off enough for me to fall asleep. A sound woke me when it was still dark out. I looked at the clock. Four in the morning. I thought Ty was up. I rubbed my eyes hard, pulling myself out of the bed. I knew that Julie was here, but it wasn’t her job to get up with him. When I opened my door, I noticed that all was quiet in the living room. I listened closer. I heard a tiny tink, tink coming from my room.

  Suddenly I was wide-awake. I ran to the window, pushing it open. Jake stood there with a handful of pebbles from the center garden. My house was only a single level, so I couldn’t resist the urge. I climbed out of the window straight into his arms. His lips were on mine the instant I reached him.

  “You love me,” he whispered, kissing my cheek, pulling me into a hug. I nodded into his shoulder.

  “You love me,” I said.

  He pulled back to look me in the eye. “I’ve loved you for so long, Katie. I don’t even know what it’s like not to love you.”

  “How did I not see?” I asked him with unshed tears clouding my vision.

  He wiped my eyes with his thumbs and laughed. “I have no fucking idea.” Just then, a handful of reporters rounded the corner. Jake lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist. “Gotta give the people what they want,” he said just before his lips crashed into mine. Flashes went off one after another, and I didn’t even care. I loved him, and he was here. Everything else…just minor details.

  He started walking us toward the front door. “Um…we have to go back in through the window. I took up all the hide-a-keys.”

  “You’re joking, right?” I shook my head and laughed. “Great. There’s no telling how they’ll spin this.” He jerked his head toward the cameras.

  “I don’t even care,” I said, pulling him back to me. He lifted me back into the window then climbed in himself, ignoring the barrage of questions being thrown his way.

  When he got inside, he stuck his head back out. “We’re going to need a little privacy, guys.”

  He shut the window and the drapes then turned to me. “Get over here.”

  I crawled across the bed on my knees to kiss him, but he hesitated. “Say you’ll never leave me again…” he said, the look in his eyes serious, hard.

  I shrugged. “You’re stuck with me.” And with that his mouth was on mine.

  Epilogue

  I checked myself over in the mirror, carefully committing every detail to memory. I wouldn’t be doing this again. Of course, I had thought that the first time, but this time I knew for sure.

  “It’s time…”

  “It’s time?”

  “It’s time, babe,” I whispered again to Jake, shaking him gently from his slumber.

  “It’s time!” He leapt to his feet in go mode. I couldn’t help but laugh. “How far apart?” he asked, slipping on his shoes.

  “A minute or so.”

  “What?”

  “I’m kidding. Calm down. They’re five minutes apart. We’re good.”

  “But we still have to get Mom over here to watch Ty and—”

  “She’s already on her way.” I kissed his forehead. “Could you get my bag?”

  He bent down to grab it but dropped to his knees instead to kiss my stomach. “I’m really going to miss the belly.”

  I lovingly rubbed the top of his head, committing this moment to memory as well.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to keep making babies?” he asked. “I can just keep you pregnant for the next couple of years.”

  I laughed at him because that was exactly what he had done for the past two. Making the decision not to have any more kids after this one had been easy given the fact that we were a full house. Jake knew how blessed we were to have Ty, Lily Ann, and the little one on the way, but bless his heart, he loved having me pregnant. He said it made me impossibly more beautiful. I was more of the opinion that he just loved making the babies and being a dad. He was good at it.

  He’d decided he didn’t want to know the sex this time. It was driving me nuts! I really wanted to know, but he’d assured me it would be more fun this way, and he had been right. I was more excited than ever to meet this little one!

  Jake had given up on us getting pregnant about two years after we had gotten married. It turned out sometimes that was all it took. I had gotten pregnant with Lily Ann a few months later and again three months after she was born.

  There had been a time when I would have been terrified to have three children, but now, I thought it was wonderful. Having a loving husband, who was a doting father, made all the difference in the world.

  Jake and I had been married in a small ceremony at our church with family and friends. We had done a photo shoot for the press at Jake’s new publicist’s insistence, but after our honeymoon in Bora Bora and our first year of marriage, we had thankfully become boring to them. Sure, they still sniffed around when we travelled or after Jake released a movie, but other than that, we were left to ourselves. I had learned that being a willing participant made things a lot easier.

  Jake had done a movie every year that we had been married but this one. Two of them were Oscar-nominated films, one an action flick and the other a romantic comedy. He’d taken to choosing his roles wisely and trying to stay as close to home as possible.

  When I’d gotten pregnant with Lily Ann, I’d been so nervous about how Ty would react to me not giving him my full attention, but that was where Jake had stepped up. Ty had even taken to calling Jake “daddy.” It wasn’t because we’d asked him to. He’d just caught on when Lily Ann started saying “Dada.” Having her had changed Ty. It had calmed him, made him gentler.

  As for Jake and me, our first year of marriage had been a bumpy one. Not long after our wedding, I’d received word that George had been arrested. He’d been caught trying to cross back into the United States in Miami. He had become completely unhinged at the things he’d seen on television about Jake and me. It seemed that he’d been writing threatening letters to us for some time, but I had never seen them. Jake had shielded me from that. Not long after George’s arrest, I got a letter of apology. I believed it to be a means of trying to bait me into his situation, but it turned out, it had been sincere. George signed over his paternity rights to Jake the day before his trial began. He had already pled guilty to money laundering, but he’d had to stand trial for fleeing. That had been a difficult time for me, but Jake never left my side.

  After the letter and the trial, I found forgiveness. It was good for me to stop being angry with George. I never thought it possible, but I was able to completely let go.

  Joan had been both right and wrong about that situation. The press had tried to paint me as a villain, but Jake’s fans stood by him. It never affected his career. Jake fired Joan when he found out how she’d manipulated me. She’d been the one who had turned off my phone and blocked my number from his phone. She’d blocked every number I had except the diner, which was how I’d managed to get in touch with him that fateful night.

  Now, Jake and I had been married for almost five years, and I didn’t know how we could possibly be happier. If I had ever thought I was fulfilled before, I was a hundred times more so now.

  In the beginning, Jake had fantasized about us moving to LA. After a bit of a tug of war and a long discussion about my needing to keep Ty close to my family, he had given up. Instead, he had sold his Hollywood home and settled in at my tiny house in our tiny town in Alabama. After Lily Ann was born, we’d had no choice but to upgrade. I had been so upset by the thought of selling my childhood home that Jake had just shrugged and said, “Let’s keep it.” Just like that. No big deal.

  Having money, especially that kind of money, had taken some getting used to. Honestly, I was still not used to it. Jake had caught me cringing when I was doing bills, so he handed the task over to the accountant. He said I shouldn’t have to worry about things like that. I still kept a coupon folder in my purse. It was m
y dirty little secret. He would make fun of me mercilessly if he ever found it. I was sure of it.

  After we’d moved, Momma Lewis did too. She’d wanted to be close to us. She’d wanted the kids around all the time. We bought a small lake on the outskirts of town with plenty of land to build. He’d built our house, his mom’s, and eventually Aunt Julie and Uncle Ray’s since Aunt Julie had wanted to be close to the kids too. Even my dad joined us after his divorce. I went from having no family close by to having everyone I loved within a stone’s throw.

  Tonight, just when I had thought things couldn’t get any better, I had gotten to see Jake happier than I had ever seen him before as he held our newborn son. Little Jacob weighed in at seven pounds and even had his daddy’s beautiful sapphire blue eyes.

  After dozing off, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, I was awoken by little Jacob’s whimper. When I went to sit up, Jake kissed my forehead, uttering those four little words that I could never tire of hearing: “I’ve got it, babe.”

  The End.

  If you enjoyed book 1 in this series then keep reading for a sneak peek at book 2 now available for preorder by clicking HERE.

  Chapter 1

  Blah, blah, blah. My newest client droned on. Ms. Vines may as well have been Charlie Brown’s schoolteacher.

  “Yes, Ms. Vines, I’m listening.” Technically.

  “I don’t understand.” She stomped her foot childishly. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’m clean!”

  “The fact that you don’t understand is the issue. You’ve been here for two months, correct?”

  “Sixty-two days.”

  “Out of those sixty-two days, you’ve had as many sessions. In how many of those sessions have you brought up your parents?”

  “I don’t know, maybe half?”

  “Forty-nine. The other thirteen days were spent blaming a friend or acquaintance for your drug and alcohol addiction. You haven’t owned your behavior.”

  “I shouldn’t have to. If it weren’t for my dad stealing my money, and my mom screwing my manager, I wouldn’t have turned to drugs,” she whined

  “Mmm hmm,” I hummed. I closed my pad and stood, straightening my skirt. “Same time tomorrow then.”

  “Dr. Lindsey, I have to get back.” She pleaded. “I can’t stay here. I have a career!”

  “So do I. The judge ordered ninety days of rehab and therapy, so you’ll get ninety days…at least.”

  “What do you mean ‘at least’?”

  “Ms. Vines, was a document not delivered to you a few days ago?”

  “Ah, yeah,” she said breaking eye contact.

  “You signed it. I know because I got a copy of it. Did you not read the document?”

  “Well…”

  I rubbed my brow to mask my eye roll. “Should I read it to you, or would you like a summary?” Mimi didn’t respond. “Every patient that comes here gets a minimum of ninety days of therapy. If you are ready to leave after ninety, I will send you packing. If I don’t feel you’re ready to leave, then you will stay until this program works for you. However long that may be.”

  “You can’t do that,” she yelled. “I have rights!”

  “You do have rights. You aren’t a hostage. You can leave whenever you like. However, if you leave without my consent, you’ll go to jail. The judge tends to uphold my recommendations. But it’s not as if I’m holding you hostage. You’re an adult.” Barely. “You’re free to make your own choices.”

  “What kind of choice is that?” she shrieked.

  “It doesn’t matter; it’s a choice. Stop playing the victim, Ms. Vines. You are only the victim of your own choices. After all, your choices led you here.”

  She let out an exasperated growl.

  “Also, Mrs. Faulkner is not your maid. Clean up your own—”

  “She is the maid,” she interrupted with that shrilling tone that was driving me mad.

  “She’s not your maid. As I was saying, clean up after yourself, or I will deliver you to prison myself. Have a nice lunch,” I told her while ushering her out of my office. “And don’t forget to work on the cleansing room. I will be checking in on you.”

  It was all I could do not to slam my office door behind me as I walked out into the hallway behind her. Teenagers! I couldn’t get this eighteen-year-old prima donna out of here fast enough. She had absolutely no respect for anyone, and forget accountability. As far as she was concerned, her parents had pushed the cocaine up her nose and lit the fire that burned down half of a city block.

  I knew with certainty that it would be a while before I took on another teenager as a patient. I preferred working with adults, but it seemed adolescent addiction was all the rage in Hollywood these days.

  My heels echoed off of the white marble that made up the cleansing area. I had chosen the white marble walls and floors to symbolize the effort it took to stay free of addiction. Just like the pristine marble encasing of the room, one’s addiction must be tended to daily if it were to remain clean.

  Each person who came to stay with me got to experience the outward effort of cleaning this room. The task was a conditioning of sorts. They learned to cleanse outwardly here so they were conditioned to clean inwardly after they left.

  Most of the people who came here had never known a day of hard work in their lives. It usually took weeks to convince them to even participate in the program before any progress could begin.

  Ms. Faulkner, a kind but stern woman in her mid-fifties, was my attendant and dearest friend. She met me as I was walking down the hallway. “Did you see the write-up about your article in The Times?” she asked, handing me the paper.

  I took it, even though I had already seen it. “Yes. I saw it.”

  I had written an article about my methods, which had been published in an online psychiatric journal for professionals. My peers got together and blasted me for it in The Times.

  “Ella, you are doing great things here. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Your work speaks for itself.” I nodded. The world would never know how successful I had been, but I knew.

  My methods were widely criticized by my peers, to say the least. Mocked would be a more accurate description. I had a one hundred percent success rate. I was the only one in my field who could say that. Let them criticize and mock all they liked. Their patients returned to them time and time again while mine left here renewed. Besides the occasional thank-you card, I never saw my patients again after they left. I didn’t need to. They didn’t leave here until they could cope with the real world. No matter how long that took.

  Each sentence usually started at ninety days. That was the jumping off point. I understood that; the judges mandated that; even the patients’ attorneys got the concept, but for some reason, the patients hardly ever did.

  I always gave them the ninety-day minimum mandate in writing when they arrived. They got it again after the first four weeks and again at the sixty-day mark just to make sure they were good and sober when they read it. Even with all of that preparation, almost every single patient who had required longer than a ninety-day stay had become momentarily unglued. But most of them did require longer. A time limit could not be put on recovery.

  Upon entering and leaving my facility, each patient was required to sign a mutual confidentiality agreement. They were all eager to do so to protect their own images. I let them think it was for them, but it was my identity that I was really protecting.

  After I’d made sure Ms. Vines had tended to the cleansing room, I headed back to the front entrance. As I exited the treatment building, I climbed into my golf cart and headed east across the property. It was a beautiful day here at Vestige Estate. I had grown up in Louisiana but moved here to Mission Hills, Georgia, after college to open my own facility.

  I glanced at the west pool as I rode through. It should be ready any day. Of all the amenities my property offered, my private pool and the stables were the only ones I took advantage of.

  I pulled to
a stop in front of the stables to pick up Ivan. He was waiting for me by the door, eager to get back to the house. Ivan was 125 pounds of English Mastiff. I think he liked the stables because he could see everything from there. It was centrally located.

  He hopped in the cart and climbed up on the bench seat beside me.

  “How was your morning?”

  He barked in response.

  “Ugh, mine too. Are you ready for lunch?”

  Two barks.

  I clicked the brake pedal to release and we were off through the golf course toward the residential side of the property.

  “Welcome home, Ella,” the computer-generated voice said as I finished punching in the code to open the gates to my private portion of the property.

  My house was much different than the treatment center. While the gates surrounding the acre or so of residential property suggested it to be fancy, it was nothing of the sort.

  I was just nineteen when I had designed the plantation-style home. Of course, I’d thought it would be in Louisiana. I envisioned having a huge family here, growing old here, holding barbecues with my grandchildren here. Yet, here I was, just Ivan and me.

  The house boasted six bedrooms, four and a half baths, a sun room, a living room, den, dining room, tea room, and a huge wrap-around porch on both levels, complete with a front porch swing. Each bedroom opened onto the porch. The master suite opened onto the back of the house overlooking the pool. It was truly a work of southern art.

  While it did seem a tad ostentatious and indulgent to have my own private pool, I couldn’t help myself. It was my own private serenity. No one else came here but me.

  I walked into the house, Ivan at my side, and went immediately to my office. I found four new faxes from just this morning. I grabbed them and headed off to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich.

  Ivan lazed beside me on the floor while I sat at the kitchen table eating and flipping through the reports from the fax machine. I didn’t know why I did this every day; I took on only one patient at a time, yet I still couldn’t help but look over the offers presented.