The Life That Mattered (The Life Series Book 1)

by Jewel E. Ann

  THE LIFE THAT MATTERED

  Book One

  Jewel E. Ann

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Jewel E. Ann

  ISBN: 978-1-7345182-1-4

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Designer: Kerry Ellis, Covered by Kerry

  Formatting: BB eBooks

  Dedication

  To my future self

  Don’t ever be predictable.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Epigraph

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Sneak Peek of Just Jane

  Also by Jewel E. Ann

  About the Author

  PROLOGUE

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  Mom failed to answer her phone, the new normal I’d come to expect. It didn’t deter me from calling and leaving a message. Fifteen minutes earlier, my life exploded. I needed someone—anyone—at that moment.

  Months ago, I should have disconnected her phone line. No one still used landlines.

  And … she died.

  Dead people didn’t use phones. At least, I’d always assumed they didn’t. At that moment, I felt like anything was possible. Literally anything.

  I estimated that I had maybe ten more messages to leave before her mailbox reached capacity. Ten more messages before I’d disconnect her phone line, go through her things, and sell the house.

  “My husband did something … with another woman.” I choked on a sob, as a deadly storm of emotions ripped through me. After a minute of strangled silence, I scrounged a tiny shred of composure and continued. “And I think I’ve known the truth. But I couldn’t say anything because it took away his pain—at least temporarily. It’s better than the alternative, right? I mean … I thought he was dying. Part of me wanted to tell him that I knew. I hate secrets. But I feared what he might do if he found out I knew, or how it would break us if I was wrong and accused him.” I wiped a few tears that forced their way free because I couldn’t erase the memory of the gun in his hand and the hopelessness on his face.

  “And the worst part? I can’t tell my best friend. I can’t tell anyone … so I’m telling you because this insane part of me thinks you might have connections.” I chuckled. “Afterlife connections. Spiritual connections. Supernatural connections. I’m not really sure because I still can’t believe this is happening. I don’t actually think he’s crazy. But, Mom … it’s pretty fucking crazy. Him feeling her. It’s not right. It’s not fair.”

  I closed my eyes. “Sorry for the language. But I fear—” Another sob exploded from my chest. “I fear it’s too late.”

  Rubbing my swollen eyes with the heel of my hand, I blew out a slow, shaky breath. “I’m not myself at the moment. Anyway … Dad’s good.” I searched for anything to take my mind off the gun and those three terrible words he’d said to me. “Katie’s pregnant, but I’m sure she already told you that. I haven’t mentioned the affair. After her two miscarriages, I refuse to do or say anything to cause her more stress. As for me … I’m pretty sure we’re done having kids. Two is enough. Although, I thought a surprise could come along. Did I mention our sex life has been better since he’s been with her? Weird, huh? At first, I thought it was just guilt and silent remorse, but I honestly think when he leaves her, there’s this tiny window where he’s not physically in pain. So, we have sex. And it’s intense. It’s mind-blowing.”

  I sighed into the phone. “A little surprise is no longer a possibility. I officially hate surprises. And…” I closed my eyes, seeing the gun and that look—irrevocable despair “…I think it’s too late for new beginnings. Today I saw the end.” I let a few more tears come to life before pulling back my sleeve to glance at my watch. “I love you, Mom. I miss you. And if you don’t have any connections to help my situation, don’t feel bad. I’ll figure something out. Just the possibility that you’re listening is enough. Today I miss you more…” the next round of emotions burned my eyes “…than I have in all the months you’ve been gone. Today I j-just really n-need my mom.”

  Falling in love tomorrow is such a waste of today.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Six Years Earlier

  Third wheel.

  Tagalong.

  Odd woman out.

  For two years I played this awkward role. When did I lose my self-respect?

  “I love Canada,” my best friend, Lila, declared as she helped me pack for our threesome trip to Vancouver—tagalong me, Lila, and her fiancé, Graham Porter.

  Porter Realty.

  Porter Investments.

  Porter Communications.

  Porter Arena.

  Senator Alfred Porter.

  Representative Grant Porter.

  Mayor Isabel Porter.

  The Porters had a presence and financial investment in everything. They represented the one percent, and they did it in style.

  “I’m glad Graham has meetings, so we’ll get to hang out without me feeling like I’m cock-blocking your fiancé.” I zipped my suitcase as Lila plopped down onto my bed.

  “Stop it with the third wheel thing. We’re all friends. We were all friends before anything romantic started between Graham and me. Well, except for that part where I hated him. Anyway, he likes you better outside of the bedroom.”

  I laughed, acknowledging the truth with an easy nod. Graham was my best guy friend.

  When he found out my parents couldn’t afford treatment for my father’s failing kidneys, he arranged for his family to pay for everything, and he made sure Dad received the best doctors. My father owed the Porter family for his extended life.

  The Porters owned the building where I had my bath shop—Clean Art. The Porters owned the bank where I had my business loan. They pretty much owned everything and a piece of everyone I knew. That was okay. They were good people. Most of them.

  I collapsed onto the bed next to Lila and grabbed her left hand, still in awe of the diamond on her ring finger. “He’s going to make you quit your job and pop out babies, but not before he makes you remove that barbell from your tongue.”

  Our friendship traveled many paths with interesting stops for things like piercings and tattoos. As soon as we could legally rebel, we did. Lila pierced her tongue. I put holes in my belly button and eyebrow. Then we inked our skin. Lila splurged with a full-winged tramp stamp, while I demonstrated my geek side with a carbon atom tattoo on the inside of my left wrist.

  She giggled, yanking her hand from my grip. “Stop! No, he’s not. He loves my independence, and his penis loves my piercing.”

&nb
sp; I wrinkled my nose. “Eww …”

  Graham flew to Vancouver three days earlier, so I had Lila all to myself for the flight and the drive to the hotel—Porter Suites. Imagine that.

  “Baby!” Lila hurled herself into Graham’s arms as soon as he opened the door to the suite.

  He winked at me over her shoulder.

  “Graham Cracker.” I rolled my eyes.

  After Lila rushed past him, he tipped the bellboy, watching him retreat toward the elevator for a few seconds before returning his attention to me. “So you don’t have to listen to her scream.” Graham handed me a keycard.

  “Hmm … she’s never mentioned screaming. You must be referencing a movie, not actual events.” I plucked the keycard from his manicured fingers.

  “I’m throwing my hat in the gubernatorial race next year. You realize you’ll have to address me with a little more respect when that happens.”

  I brushed past Graham in his pinstriped suit, potent cologne, and over-gelled coal hair—parted perfectly on the side like the preppy guy he’d always been. Lila glued herself to my existence in kindergarten, but Graham wormed his way into our circle of friends in college. He campaigned for the role of my boyfriend for two whole weeks.

  Flowers.

  Expensive jewelry.

  Plagiarized love letters—mostly William Wordsworth and Lord Byron.

  I refrained from calling him out on his romantic poems and sonnets because the thought did count, although he lost a few points by assuming my love of science meant I knew nothing about literature.

  We discovered our attraction wasn’t as physical as it was born of our mutual love for sports. My vagina stood in the way. He thought our shared interests plus his owning a penis and my owning a vagina equaled a match made in heaven.

  As for Lila … well, she hated him for years.

  “This place is quite fancy-pants, Graham Cracker. Or should I start calling you Governor Graham Cracker?”

  The suite showcased a stunning view of the coastal mountains and water’s edge from the top level of the hotel nestled in the heart of downtown Vancouver. I suppressed a gasp to prevent feeding Graham’s ego. In fact, I went out of my way to bulldoze his ego at every opportunity.

  “Why don’t you head down to the spa, Evelyn? Get a massage, maybe have them do something with your hair.” He eased his tall frame into the leather armchair and pulled Lila onto his lap, kissing her neck and groping her boob while looking at me.

  Asshole.

  My nose wrinkled while Lila tried to shoo his hand away, but Graham ignored her. “What’s wrong with my hair?” I ran my fingers through my pin-straight hair that stopped midway down my back.

  “It’s fake blond. Not sexy blond like Lila’s hair.” He buried his nose in her hair and sniffed.

  Fine. I’ll admit Lila’s wavy blond hair looked a bit healthier than mine. She turned heads with a chic blend of gold and copper lowlights because Graham sent her to the most expensive salons. However, I happened to like my platinum blond hair. Sometimes I liked it with colorful streaks. Sometimes I liked it with my natural, dark blond grown out a few inches.

  It was hair. Why not get creative with it? Lila lost her carpe diem with her hair. She used to possess more flare BG (Before Graham). He liked her fitting in with his conservative family. She liked his relentless pursuit of her. Who wouldn’t like to be the center of someone’s world?

  Lila’s beauty deserved all the admiration. Hell … I admired her all the time. She knew I envied so many things about her, like her curves. Whereas, I resembled a boy who hadn’t reached puberty yet.

  No butt.

  No boobs.

  If it weren’t for my hair, I could’ve passed as a fourteen-year-old boy.

  “I love you, Grammy Gram Gram.” I pinched his cheek while blowing Lila a kiss. “Try to give her a real orgasm.”

  Graham narrowed his eyes at me while Lila snickered, turning to nuzzle his neck. She’d mastered the art of ignoring our banter.

  Smart woman.

  The truth? Graham and I should have never dated. We were destined to be friends—giving-shit, banter-driven, sports-loving friends. When Lila went through many years of her Graham-is-a-spoiled-rich-kid phase, I liked Graham. We hung out in college while Lila studied because she took school seriously, while Graham and I bet on college football and basketball.

  After we graduated, Lila traveled for several years. I worked some odd jobs that didn’t actually require a science degree before deciding I wanted to make body products. Graham accepted his rightful seat helping run the many family businesses while being groomed for a position in politics. When Lila returned from her worldly travels, Graham wasted no time going full-on over-the-top Porter-style campaigning for her affection. And they lived happily ever after. At least, that was the plan.

  I skipped the massage and wandered a few blocks away from the hotel with my reminiscent thoughts keeping me company on my lonely outing. A whimsical wood sign for a bubble tea cafe caught my attention. The instant I opened the door, I began to salivate. Really, what was that smell?

  “Welcome.” The brunette with braided pigtails smiled at me from behind the counter while sliding hot buns onto wood serving trays. The quaint, eco-chic cafe had odd-shaped, old-wood tables, a few bookshelves, and lots of places to plug in computers while sipping bubble tea and salivating over hot buns in unique flavors like matcha, dark chocolate, and tomato basil. A perfect find for me that morning.

  “I’ll have the berry blend bubble tea and a lemon coconut bun.”

  “Those have five more minutes in the oven. Are you okay with waiting?”

  Waiting for hot-out-of-the-oven buns? Yeah, I had all day. Hot lemon coconut buns had to be better than the champagne and sex going on back at the hotel.

  “Five minutes is just fine.” I set my money on the counter while she made my tea.

  Turning, I scanned the place for somewhere to sit, but early birds occupied all of the tables. Hoping someone would leave soon, I sipped my tea and waited in the far corner by the bookshelves filled with tea pots, books on tea, bubble tea straws, and other tea paraphernalia. When braided pigtails called my number, I took my tray with the hot bun on it and inspected the table situation again.

  “Do you want your drink and bun to go?” another girl behind the counter asked.

  “Yeah, maybe.” My lips twisted to the side.

  “There’s a chair right here. I’ll be done soon.”

  I turned toward the male voice.

  A handsome Asian man, sitting at a small table by the window, gestured to the empty seat across from him.

  Curiosity formed a smile on my face.

  Attractive stranger. Quaint cafe. First day in Vancouver.

  Who could say no to that? “Thank you.”

  He nodded before returning his attention to the book cradled in his hands. A real physical book. Not an e-reader or laptop. He must have been from another planet. My scientific brain had always suspected life beyond Earth.

  I stared. It was hard not to stare, even with the sweet lemony bun aroma wafting toward my nose. The generous stranger owned a kind, bright smile, and he hailed from planet Paperback Books. Did I mention his sharp jaw line and high cheekbones? It was all too much.

  Mischievous eyes conveyed an unspoken pleasure. They dared me to reveal my own level of happiness and curiosity.

  The hair though … seriously … The. Hair! Jet black. So thick.

  It looked like a missed attempt at parting it on the right—the opposite of Graham’s gel-suffocated Ken doll look.

  “Haven’t seen you here before,” he murmured just before sipping the coffee in his right hand while keeping ahold of his book with his left hand, leaving his gaze on the pages.

  “Sounds like a backward pickup line.” I used my fork and knife to cut the bun in half.

  He shot me a furtive glance. “Ah, you mean the tried and true, Do you come here often?”

  I grinned, peeking through my eyelashes as
I kept my chin tipped toward my food. “It has stood the test of time.” At least, on my planet.

  “Well … do you? Come here often?” He leaned back in his chair, sliding his bookmark between the pages before setting the book onto the table and resting that hand on his leg. His other hand cupped the mug of coffee. The guy looked like he should be on a billboard for something really sexy. Cologne? Jeans? Underwear? Allergy medication? Erectile dysfunction? Nah … surely not. He was the epitome of put together—light gray suede boots and perfectly fitted faded jeans. His cream shirt hugged his torso just enough to let the world know he worked out, but he kept it partially hidden under a gray notched-collar peacoat and a deep red checked scarf as if he didn’t need to flaunt his physique.

  If I hadn’t resembled an upside-down mop wearing a sweater, leggings, and boots, I would have flaunted my physique. I struggled to properly match said sweater, leggings, and boots.

  Back to book guy. Did I mention he seemed tall? I couldn’t tell for sure from his seated position, but he had to spread his legs beneath the table to accommodate my legs without us bumping knees.

  “Mmm …” I hummed my utmost appreciation for the exquisite bun as I shook my head. “No. I don’t come here often because I don’t live here. But if I did…” I rolled my eyes back in my head “…I’d be here every single day. This is so good.”

  His smirk greeted me when I recovered from my food orgasm. “Where do you live?”

  “Colorado.”

  “I see. Did you come to Vancouver just for the buns and bubble tea?”

  I breathed a guileless laugh. “Subconsciously, I think I did.”

  He continued to inspect me with bright eyes while maintaining a pleasant smile.

  When my pulse picked up, because that was the effect he had on me, I cleared my throat and slid my attention to the window. “I’m here with my best friend and her fiancé. He has business meetings. It’s a free trip for me, so that’s cool. Right? And Lila, my friend, likes the company.” I blotted my mouth, most likely covered in powdered sugar.