Back to You by Faith Andrews
Copyright © 2014 by Faith Andrews
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Except the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles and lyrics contained in the book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.
Original lyrics and music to Back to You co-written and recorded by Walter Vincent and co-written by Faith Andrews.
Purchase the single here
http://www.waltervincent.com/
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
Prologue
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
Acknowledgements
About the Author
To the lovers of music and the believers of second chances and especially to everyone who fell in love with Mia & Declan in Man of My Dreams.
Tracing the tattoo that surrounds my name, I count all the little ‘ones’—different sizes, fonts, and boldness—that form the shape of a heart. What a unique, creative concept. It’s so Declan. I’m his one and only and he’s not afraid to wear that truth over his heart.
My eyes never leave the beautiful artwork as I ask, “It doesn’t really matter now, but how did you know where—”
Grace clears her throat and I know without a doubt that she was in cahoots—again—with my husband. My husband. God, how I missed him. I know it didn’t seem that way when I was sitting across the table from Noah, but—no buts. I don’t want to question any of this. This is where I belong. This is who my heart belongs to. It always did.
As soon as the spotlight surrounded him on that stage my body flooded with a rush of inexplicable emotions. Raw, heart-thumping, adrenaline-rushing emotions. Panic, excitement, shock, guilt, desire and the last one… forgiveness. It took a while to grasp that, while my mind was engulfed with so much at once, but in that moment, realizing Declan was fighting for me—it was all I needed. I allowed his voice to burn the words about being his everything into my soul.
That song. Our song. So many wonderful memories. The lyrics, the growl of his soulful voice, the way he looked at me when he sang them—I knew then that I was fooling myself by ever believing my heart could belong to someone else.
And now, sitting in the back seat of Grace’s car, wrapped in the security of my husband’s arms, I’m ashamed of what I put us through these last few months. I was selfish and foolish—I acted like a teenager instead of a responsible wife and mother. I should have fought for my marriage instead of running into the arms of another man. Declan might not have been innocent and yes, that was the beginning of this whole mess, but I dragged this out for months because of one regret. How does he not hate me? I’m the one who should be begging for forgiveness.
“Declan, I am so sorry for everything I—”
He brings a finger to my lips, silencing me. “Shhh, babe. It’s over. I don’t ever want to look back.”
I wish it were that simple. I wish with all my might, but it’s not. There’s no doubt in my mind that we will work it out this time. Yes, the worst is behind us, but we’re fooling ourselves if we think this won’t take some serious effort.
I will myself to let it go, even if just for tonight. I don’t want to ruin this with confessions and hurtful truths. Now is not the time. Now’s the time to let him know how much I love him. I tilt my head to look at him. I see past the broken nose, the tousled hair, his blood soaked shirt. I only want to look into his eyes—it’s the door to his soul.
He runs his fingers through my hair and smiles, tears brimming the icy blue of his eyes. “You came back to me, Mia.”
I gulp back the lump in my throat, trying hard to stop the tears from gushing. But it’s no use, they’re uncontrollable. So much time wasted. So much hurt that could have been prevented, and yet, he sees past all of it. He loves me, flaws and all. “Thank you for knowing what I needed. Thank you for fighting for me.”
“Three more days, babe. And this better be the last damn time I have to travel to the other side of the world for this client.” Declan’s frustration seeps through his groggy voice.
Hong Kong and Declan are not best friends. Hong Kong and I are not best friends. But as much as I want Declan home, I need him not to be right now. How ironic is that? We spent enough time apart this year—time we could have been making memories instead of making mistakes and being stubborn. I hate the idea of any time apart now that we’re finally back together—getting back to good—but as much as I despise his job for always ripping him away from me and the girls at the most inopportune times, this time—it couldn’t have been planned better.
Declan interrupts my racing, guilty thoughts when he hears the ruckus from the contractors. “Hey, what’s that noise? Sounds like banging.”
Shit! I want this to be a surprise—a special anniversary present—and the hammering and sawing are pretty obvious. I should’ve known better than to answer his call while down here.
Muffling the phone with my palm, I walk away from the chaos. “Um, no… no banging. The TV’s too loud and the girls are um… knocking down block castles.” I dart for the stairs and head back up from the basement to the kitchen. I like being involved in the project, but I can’t oversee every second of the job—I have no idea what to look for anyway.
Declan replies to my little white lie with a chuckle. “Shit, those two are mini-monsters in pretty disguises. I thought little girls were supposed to play tea party.”
“Have you met our girls, Dec? They are anything but dainty.”
“Nothing like their mother… girly, graceful, sexy. Which reminds me, when I get back I’m whisking you away. An anniversary getaway. The beach, a suite, and lots of alone time.”
I hop over the delivery box of high-tech, state-of-the-art recording equipment, smiling. He’s going to love this. The thought of making him happy and hearing the word ‘getaway’ makes me tingle. “Mmmm,” I purr into the phone. “You, me and the beach… sounds like heaven.”
“That moan of yours sounds like heaven. I’m booking something as soon as I get off this phone. Mexico, Aruba, St. Tropez?”
I wish… maybe in another lifetime. “They all sound perfect, Dec, but as much as I’d love to go somewhere tropical I’m scared to fly and leave the kids behind. What about a road trip? The Hamptons? Hilton Head?”
“You never step out of those mommy shoes, do you?” He doesn’t argue because he knows my stance on this. As naïve as they seem, the kids went through their own hell while the two of us were separated. It’s my job to protect them, shelter them from the bad, and give them the perfect life—okay, sue me for feeling a little guilty for my less than perfect behavior with… never mind.
“Nope,” I boast before hearing another loud thud and a stifled curse from John, the head contractor. “Um, Dec. I have to go… I have to put those mommy shoes to work. Charlie just u
m… chucked a block at Cara and broke the vase in the den.”
“Okay, babe. Kiss the monsters for me and I’ll give you a call tomorrow. I love you.” He hasn’t ended a conversation without those three words since that night he reclaimed me at the bar.
“I love you too, Dec. Talk to you tomorrow… And babe?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t wait to see you.” I might need him to be out of my way to complete my surprise, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss the heck out of him.
“Me too. Bye, babe.”
We hang up and I rush downstairs again. Thank God my mom took the girls for the afternoon. I wouldn’t be able to divide my attention between them and this mess. I let out a huff as I focus on the catastrophe that is my once-completely-untouched basement. One half of the unfinished room has been turned into pure mayhem. “Um, John, you sure you can still have this done by Thursday?” It seems impossible.
“I said Thursday, Mrs. Murphy, so Thursday it is.” He barely looks up from what he’s doing, but I sense the sincerity in his tone. He came highly recommended so I have no doubt in his ability to come through, but his crew is so flipping… messy. I linger, my eyes roaming over all the loose ends that need to be tied up.
“Is there a problem, Mrs. Murphy?” John glances over his shoulder from his hole in the wall.
I close my eyes tight, and gulp back my doubts. “Nope. No problem. I’m just excited for my husband to see it, that’s all.”
I feel a brawny hand at my shoulder as one of the crew member whispers, “He’s a lucky guy, that husband of yours. I hope he makes you lots of pretty music once it’s all done.”
Removing the rough, calloused hand from my arm, I turn and grin. “Exactly. Now get to work.”
The thick, burly man returns to his job with a deep chuckle and I pace the room a few more minutes, mentally picturing the finished product. Once the walls and floors are insulated and soundproofed, the wiring will begin. I go over the shipment invoice from the music store—everything but the word ‘microphone’ looks foreign to me.
Thankfully, I had the help of my brother-in-law, Connor, and Declan’s musical partner in crime, Eric—my best friend Grace’s husband. When I told the two of them about my plan to create an in-home recording studio as an anniversary surprise for Declan, they made a list of top-of-the-line studio must-haves. I didn’t second-guess a single item. Instead, I just ordered them all, knowing they would be a part of Declan’s magic-making one day.
My heart smiles thinking about what he’s capable of doing down here. For once he’ll get that sexy voice of his recorded, maybe even fulfill his lifelong dream of creating an album. His talent has gone unnoticed for too long. Not that I mind being a private audience to his swoon-worthy performances, but I can’t be the only one who ever gets to enjoy the soulful, raspy sound of his voice. Giving him this means making one of his dreams come true—answering a ‘what if.’ And if I’ve learned anything this year it’s that you can’t live in regret or wonder ‘what if’ without it eating a hole into the marrow of your existence. It took a lot of heartache and too many mistakes to learn that lesson. But I have to believe that the heartache portion of our story is over. This story needs to continue with a pretty song and a love stronger than steel.
“Six days, five nights.” I pause to listen as she mentions some hotel options. “Yes, a honeymoon suite, it’s our five year anniversary—actually, it’s a lot more than that, too. Shit, just give me the best damn room you have with a hot tub and a view of the ocean.”
The travel agent on the other end is typing my requests into the computer like an enthusiastic machine. I must have mentioned our anniversary at least five times since she picked up the reservation line. I’m not too proud to gloat about how much I want to spoil my wife—make up for lost time, make up for what I did to our marriage, make her mine all over again.
“Mr. Murphy?” she interrupts my thoughts with a pleasant voice. “Most of the resorts are kid friendly, may I make a suggestion?”
If it’s kid free it’s for me. “Sure,” I say enthusiastically.
“There are some lovely properties available for weekly rentals. Some right on the beach. Very secluded. Is that something you’d be interested in?”
“What’s your name again, dear?”
“Margaret.”
“Margaret, darling, you are one intelligent woman. That sounds like a spectacular idea. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before.” I’m actually quite surprised with myself for discounting this option. I’m pretty sure Mia’s parents used to do this exact thing when they traveled to Newport.
After a giggle and a little more typing, Margaret finds the perfect, quaint, but not too quaint, house for us. It’s right on the beach, with a wraparound porch, a Jacuzzi in the master bathroom, and a hot tub on the outdoor patio. Perfect. What more could we ask for? We’ll have peace, quiet, and seclusion and six nights of the sound of the waves to lull us to sleep.
We need this break. Life’s been picture-perfect since that night at the bar—the night I had to fight for what was mine all along. Yes, I realize I didn’t exactly give Mia a fair chance to decide who the man of her dreams was, but fuck that! I couldn’t watch while another man sank his grimy home-wrecking paws into my wife. Who does that? What kind of guy sets his sights on a married woman? I mean, I’m not a total asshole—I know Mia wasn’t exactly innocent and that goddamn voicemail… I still have nightmares about it. But what’s done is done and he is dunzo. Over, kaput, on the other side of the damn country, far away from my beautiful wife.
Margaret clears her throat and snaps me back to the here and now. “Let me get you your confirmation number, Mr. Murphy.”
“Yes, please.” I would absolutely love confirmation that Mia and I will never head down that road of mistrust and miscommunication ever again. I’d prefer if it were written in fucking stone, to be exact, but unfortunately some things are out of our hands. I have to stick to those things I can control—rekindling our marriage and showing Mia just how much I love and cherish her. I’ve got that shit under control.
“Well, Mr. Murphy, I hope you’ll enjoy your stay in Newport. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Nope! You’ve been a pleasure, Margaret. Thank you for all your help.”
Ending the call, I browse the real estate website that has pictures of the house we’ll be staying in. The place is modern with a coastal feel and I can picture lazy mornings in bed and barefoot walks in the sand at night. All of that sounds perfect, but what I look forward to the most is having our privacy—Lord knows we need it. The length of the trip will allow for plenty of all that as well as taking advantage of the nearby wineries. Visiting Newport is something Mia has always wanted, but wine tasting and antiquing can’t exactly be enjoyed while toting around an ornery toddler—or two. “Sorry, Cara and Charlie, but we’re shipping you off to Nana and Pop’s for a few days.”
“Talking to yourself again, Declan?” Robert’s unexpected question from where he’s lurking in the doorway jerks my attention from the computer screen.
“Yup, you caught me. I was just wrapping things up for the night, what’s up?”
Robert enters the conference room, shutting the door behind him. He looks as tired as I feel—his tie hanging loose from his crumpled collar. Looks like he could use a little getaway of his own.
“I’m gonna cut right to the chase here.” What usually follows that opening line isn’t good. My jaw clenches and my nerves fray as he continues. “The client loves you, Murphy. They trust you, value your work ethic—your attention to detail. They don’t want anyone else touching their financials, in fact, they only want you.”
“Well, that’s great. Right?”
“Yes, it is great. So great, I’m offering you a raise and a promotion.”
Holy shit, is he making me partner? I shift in my seat, readying myself for what I’ve been wanting to hear for a long time. “Wow, Robert. I don’t know what to
say.”
“I don’t expect you to say anything just yet. You’re going to want to think about this, talk it over with your family, I’m sure.”
Robert’s no stranger to my recent marital issues, but I’m still not sure why I’d have to consult with Mia about becoming partner. She’ll be over the moon ecstatic for me, for what this means for our family. “I’m not sure what you mean…”
“We’d need you here, in Hong Kong, every quarter for a month at a time.”
Oh. Mother fucking oh. No partner, just more travel and more time apart from my family. The answer is right on the tip of my tongue. No. I can’t handle—no, we can’t handle—this kind of continuous separation. Mia and I are just getting back to good and the kids—I’d miss too much of them growing up. How can I fathom saying yes to this?
“Declan, I see the wheels turning. I know this isn’t an easy decision. Talk it over with Mia when you get home on Friday.” He gets up from his seat and unknots his tie as he walks toward the door. Turning to face me again, I recognize a faint fleck of determination in his eyes. Must be what got him his partnership way back when—could also be what landed him three divorces and two kids who barely speak to him. “This would be huge for your review. It would secure you a spot for partner next year.”
“Thanks, Robert. I’ll take that into consideration when making my decision.”
With my career-idol gone, I rake my fingers through my hair, completely flabbergasted. Yes, flabbergasted. I want partner—it’s what I’ve been working for since I graduated college. But I want my family and my marriage to work, too. The timing of this promotion couldn’t have come at a less appropriate phase in my life. Be it a year from now, when Mia and I are on more solid ground, maybe the decision wouldn’t be so damn difficult to make, but now—I’m just not sure we can survive any more separation. No matter how hard I fight or how far away the temptation of Noah Matheson is—this will create a wedge that might drive us apart for good.
Back to You Page 1
