by Calia Read
He’s making significant progress when he stops and inspects the list. “Who’s all invited?”
“My momma is Leonore Pleasonton, so everyone.”
“Of course.”
“And because Leonore Pleasonton’s daughter is marryin’ a Lacroix, she will treat this as a royal weddin’.”
Livingston lifts a brow. “A royal weddin’ she has only three months to plan?”
“Momma could plan it in three weeks if she had to.”
“I don’t lack faith in her.”
I continue to address the invites but stop when I get to Nathalie’s name. I hold the envelope between both hands and sigh “But did I tell you I’ve spoken to Nat recently?
“At least one of us has,” Livingston mutters under his breath.
I give him a pointed look and shift in my seat toward him. “She will be here for the weddin’.”
Livingston lifts his head and points his pen at me. “Ah, but how long will she stay afterward?”
“That I can’t answer.”
“For the life of me, I can’t fathom why she doesn’t come back to Belgrave for good.” Livingston’s frustration is palpable, but I understand. Time has passed since Oliver’s passing, and Nat continues to evade the discussion of coming home. I know she isn’t happy at Brignac House. I saw with my own two eyes, and I’m certain it hasn’t gotten better for her.
“I question why she remains there, too. But I think what’s keepin’ her there is a someone from her past.”
Livingston slowly blinks at me. He doesn’t have the slightest idea who I’m talking about.
“Asa,” I supply. “She doesn’t want to come back to Charleston and see Asa.”
It takes Livingston several seconds before his eyes light up with understanding. “Oh, yes. Asa.” He shakes his head. “Christ. She still has that childhood crush on him?”
“Is it considered a childhood crush when you’re no longer a child and very much an adult?”
“She’s a widow now,” he mutters.
“And so now her heart is black and passion is dead?”
At my sarcasm, Livingston lifts a brow and smirks. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, if she came home, she’d discover that things have changed.”
“Not everythin’,” I say quietly.
Many things I’m certain of, and one of them is Nathalie’s love for Asa Calhoun.
“You’re right,” Livingston says as he stands. He walks over to his desk and moves aside papers to reveal the plans for our home.
“More progress?”
“More progress,” he confirms and moves back to me. He lays the prints out in front of me and, in-rapid fire, begins to describe how he envisioned the structure of the home, windows here, columns there, a spiral staircase in the foyer. I nod with a small smile. He’s so excited that his mouth can’t keep up with his imagination.
I gave him my input here and there, and he makes the proper changes, but my one request I refused to budge on was a library. Give me a library, and I will be content for life. A builder has been chosen, and progress would soon be made on the land Livingston purchased months ago across from Belgrave.
As for the Lacroix home, it was in a trust for Étienne, Livingston, and Nathalie and had been that way since the death of their parents. The three of them could rent the home out, use it for storage, and place every terrifying picture of their ancestors against the walls. Options were endless. One thing was not: the home could never leave the Lacroix family.
The same couldn’t be said for my childhood home.
Debts may have been paid, but that didn’t mean Momma and I were free from debt forever. Between the two of us, there was no income, and the upkeep of our family home was too great. Momma didn’t put up a great fight. The one thing she tried to resist was my dowry going anywhere outside the family. Her argument was I didn’t get married in sixty days, but I found a suitable husband in sixty days. And now she was in legal proceedings, fighting tooth and nail to keep the money.
She had no energy left in her to fight to keep the house. Honestly, I think she knew it was time to let go of it, and I think she also wanted a new beginning. Although there were good memories in my childhood home, there was no possible way of escaping the past when it was all around you.
The money from the sale of the house (and furniture) would go toward her next home. Although finding one that met her standards would be interesting.
By that time, Livingston and I would be married, and if all went well, our house would be partially built, and Livingston could see some of his dreams come true. He still struggles with nightmares from the war, but it isn’t quite as acute as before. I know his job at Étienne’s company helps tremendously. It pulls him out of the dark shelter he had slowly built for himself. He was never going to be the old Livingston. He saw too much in France. But he was making progress, and there were moments when he would mention what he experienced almost as though it was a fleeting thought. I never prodded too much. It was his choice to tell me what he wanted to.
Out of all the positive changes in my life, there is one thing I still can’t figure out. Who paid off my family’s debts? To this day, Livingston asserts it wasn’t him, and he had zero involvement. I’ve tried to find out, but whoever it was took great care in making sure their identity was kept a secret. They don’t want to be found. At some point, I had to ask myself what was more important to me, finding them or holding onto this new life I have. Because, in essence, that’s what I have with these debts paid.
I have to accept the fresh start and never let go of what Livingston and I have.
“All this is wonderful,” I say. I shake my head, unable to comprehend that his mind could create something like this.
Livingston looks at me, his hazel eyes cautious with hope. “Truly?”
“Absolutely. I love it.”
Unexpectedly, he leans forward and captures my face between his hands and kisses me soundly on the lips. This will never become old. The way my heart speeds up will never be too overwhelming. My fingers curl around his wrist, holding him in place.
When he pulls away, his thumb brushes against my cheek. “I love you.”
I smile. “Forever?”
“Of course.” He presses his forehead against mine. “For what is a king without his queen?”
EPILOGUE
Nathalie
Two Months Later
I step off the train and shield my eyes from the sun. As people hustle to their next destination, conversations, laughter, and hugs occur all around me. The grip on my valise tightens as I make my way through the crowd and out of the train station. The smell of coal wafts from the steam dome. It mixes with the humidity, creating an acrid scent that is anything but pleasing.
Even though it’s December, that stands for nothing in Charleston. As I wait in search of a cab, the hairs on the nape of my neck stick to my skin. I make no effort to brush them away.
It’s been nearly a year since I’ve visited Charleston.
It’s been four months since the passing of my husband Oliver. By my mother-in-law’s standards, I should still be in mourning, clutching a handkerchief to my chest as I aimlessly walk through the empty halls of Brignac House, mumbling about what could have been and what once was. But I can’t remain there forever, surrounded by grief. When I told Rainey I would return home, I meant it.
The time had to be right. The grief in my heart spent. When I left Brignac House, it would be for the last time. Matilda said as much when I was packing my valise. Her eyes were red-rimmed and exhausted from no sleep as she leaned into me, her breath foul, “You were never meant to be a Claiborne. You never gave him a child or knew how to love him. You’re just a shameless strumpet.”
She was wrong. We shared the same space for several years, but we knew nothing about one another. However, her words lingered in my mind, emphasizing my last argument with Oliver. “You don’t love the person you married; you love the vows that you said.”
&nbs
p; As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t refute those claims. I realized my husband was right. I never loved Oliver. Not like a wife should. But as much as he claimed to love me, his actions never matched his words.
It was a marriage of convenience that turned into a marriage of doom, and neither of us could find a way out.
I made mistakes, but I still deserved happy moments in my life. I was only going to find those moments away from Brignac House and back with my real family. I’d yet to meet my first nephew, Trace. On top of that, Livingston and Rainey were to be married. That was an event that I wouldn’t dare dream of missing.
I like to think I was somewhat responsible for the two of them becoming engaged. What money I did have to my name was gone. Everything I had saved was given to pay the Pleasonton debts. Only Étienne and I knew, and I intended for it to stay that way.
I believed everyone deserves a chance at true love even when they believe they’re unworthy of it. My brother didn’t think he could heal from the war, and Rainey was resigned to live a life married to a man she hoped she could learn to love.
I was the result of that pointless hope. I didn’t want my best friend to have the same miserable ending as I had.
My brother and Rainey needed each other, and I wanted to help. I couldn’t be there in person, so I supported them the best way I knew how.
“Where to, ma’am?”
Numbly, I smile at the driver and immediately give him directions. I knew Charleston like the back of my hand. If there’s a shortcut or backroad that leads to Belgrave, I know it. But I’m not going there. Not yet, anyway.
The car abruptly lurches forward and onto the road. I take a deep breath and remind myself I need to remain composed. I’m almost there.
The driver briefly looks over his shoulder at me and at my suitcase. “Are you stayin’ a short while?”
“No. I’m here to stay.”
I draw my valise closer to me and remind myself that what I have in my suitcase is all I need. I’ve spent several years in a loveless marriage. I stood by Oliver through a massive betrayal.
You betrayed him too, remember?
I close my eyes and when they open, we stop in front of a white building. My heart furiously pumps in my chest.
“What brings you to the church, ma’am?” he asks
“Oh, I’m just here to break up the weddin’.” Leaning forward, I hand him the cab fare and open my door. “Now you have a good day, okay?”
I slam the door on a visibly stunned driver and face the church. Sweat freely falls from my temples as the sun beats down on me.
Today, Asa Calhoun is getting married. Today, another woman is trying to take what is rightfully mine.
I don’t know what I will say when I finally see him. But I do know that what happens next will change everything...
Acknowledgements
HUGE thanks to my beta readers- Talon Smith, Kim Svetlin, Alyssa Cole, Allie Siebers, Melissa Jones and Beth Suit. Thank you for always dropping everything you’re doing, reading through the rough draft, and always having faith in me.
To my proofreaders: Rea Loftis, Michelle Clay and Kim Svetlin! Thank you for everything! I don’t know what I’d do without you ladies.
Annette Brignac and Michelle Clay from Book Nerd Services. You ladies are beyond amazing. Your hard work never goes unnoticed. I can’t thank you enough.
Talon, my perfect baby angel, for the AMAZING edits.
Thank you to Juliana Cabrera from Jersey Girl Design for formatting King of the South in the most unique way. ;) Now get back here and love me!!
MAC PACK- You two are my forever tribe. The friends every person deserves. You pull me away from my self-induced panic and reminded me to breathe. I’m lost without you two.
And to my husband, Joshua. Thank you. Thank you is never enough. You are a quiet support. You always help with the kiddos. Consistently believe in me. You are my surviving trace.
I love you.
About The Author
College seemed like too much stress for me. Traveling across the world, getting married, and having five kids seemed much more relaxing. Yeah, I’m still waiting for the relaxing part to kick in...I change addresses every other year. It’s not by choice but it is my reality. While the crazies of life kept me busy, the stories in my head decided to bubble to the surface. They were dying to be told and I was dying to tell them. I hope you enjoy escaping to the crazy world of these characters with me!!
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