Happily Ever After Collection

by Melanie Moreland

  “What’s his address?”

  I looked at him, confused. “Why would you want that?”

  “Your boyfriend needs a lesson in manners.”

  I blinked at him. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore.” I proceeded to burst into noisy, wailing sobs.

  Connor wrapped his arms around me, and I found myself in his lap. His hands stroked my back in gentle, comforting circles as he crooned with a quiet voice in my ear, telling me everything would be okay.

  When I calmed down, he handed me some Kleenex and smiled at me. “I know it hurts, Jenny. But he wasn’t the right man for you. As clichéd as it sounds, you’ll get over the pain.”

  Before I could stop myself, I shook my head. “That’s the problem, Connor. I–I’m not upset we broke up.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  I exhaled a deep, shuddering breath and kept my eyes averted. I needed to tell someone how I was feeling. I couldn’t even tell Jackey since I was so ashamed of myself, but somehow, telling Connor seemed right. I wanted him to know. “I’m actually relieved. Things hadn’t been good for a long time, and nothing I did seemed to be right or to help. A relationship shouldn’t be that much work. Or make someone that unhappy most of the time.”

  He lifted my chin. “So, you’re crying because…?”

  My lips started quivering again. “Because I feel guilty. I know I wasn’t a good girlfriend.” I huffed. “Something changed for me a few months ago, and my feelings toward John were different. I was different.” I shrugged. “They had been fading for a while and I tried to fight it, but it didn’t work.”

  He frowned at me. “At least you tried. It sounds as though he just moved on and kept stringing you along.”

  We were quiet as I continued sitting on his lap. He made no move to push me off, and I made no move to leave. I liked how it felt sitting there. His arm was still around me, holding me loosely, and I was close enough to be able to breathe in his clean scent. His other hand still cupped my face, his long fingers dancing soothingly on my skin along the edge of my hairline. It was comforting and felt strangely right.

  He spoke up, breaking the silence. “What happened to change your feelings, Jenny?”

  I closed my eyes briefly. When I opened them, I looked into the deep blue of his warm gaze, and I swallowed. I realized I was still drunk enough to be brave and say what I had been hiding for so many months.

  “You moved in.”

  His eyes widened. “Jenny.”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay, Connor. You don’t have to say anything. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s all me. John wasn’t right for me. He never was…and I knew it before I met you. I just—” Embarrassment crashed over me, and I tried to push myself away. Connor tightened his arm around me and I glanced up, expecting to see rejection and pity on his face.

  First, he’d found me drunk in the hall, and now, I’d confessed to having a secret crush on him that might have led to the breakup of my relationship. All that drama from the girl he had coffee with occasionally and borrowed the odd condiment from at times. Every interaction had been friendly and easy, and I found his presence soothing and enjoyable. Our encounters always left me wanting more time with him—and now I had just ruined it.

  Except, it wasn’t rejection or pity I saw. He was smiling at me, the most endearing look on his face. I stopped pushing on his chest, my breath catching as I looked at his expression. He pulled me nearer until our faces were so close, I could feel his breath washing over me. “It’s not all you, Jenny,” he said.

  Then he was kissing me.

  God, his mouth. It was everything I had fantasized about since the first time he’d smiled at me. His lips were warm and soft against mine, moving and guiding me. He dragged his tongue across my bottom lip, and my mouth parted. My senses exploded as he deepened the kiss, its nature becoming possessive and greedy immediately. I moaned deep in my throat as his arms tightened and his tongue demanded, claimed, swirled, and explored, leaving me breathless and clinging to him for dear life. My head began to spin, and I pulled away, gasping for air.

  Glowing blue met dazed brown as we stared at each other. His hand came up, softly tracing my lips, which puckered against his touch. I blinked as the room began to pulsate around me.

  “Connor…”

  “Jenny?” His voice was husky and filled with want.

  “I need…”

  “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

  Chapter 2

  Jenny

  I woke up, blinking and confused. I buried my head back into the pillow and burrowed under the soft blanket covering me. My bed had never felt so comfortable. I inhaled and frowned. My pillow didn’t smell like Downy. It smelled like fresh-cut grass on a nice, sunny day. It smelled like Connor did when he gave me a hug.

  Connor.

  Oh no.

  I sat up, my eyes wide as I looked around the room. I was not in my bed. This was not my room. I swallowed heavily. I was in Connor’s room. My hands flew up to my mouth, stifling my gasp as I remembered exactly how I ended up in Connor’s room. Images bombarded me—finding John, kicking him, slapping Tami, drinking and stumbling home, and ending up in Connor’s apartment, crying in his arms. I shuddered as I remembered my whispered confession and kissing him. Oh God, how we had kissed. I never wanted to stop.

  Except, the room had begun to spin, and I had pushed away from Connor, then ran to the bathroom and threw up. My embarrassment grew as I remembered him behind me, holding my hair, stroking my back, and making little hushing noises at my distress. I looked down, my humiliation complete as I realized I was no longer wearing my blouse and pants but rather a large T-shirt that had to belong to Connor. I pulled the T-shirt aside and saw my tank top was still in place, as were my boy shorts. I must have vomited on myself before passing out. Looking at the fading light, I judged it was early evening, which meant I had been out for a few hours.

  I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood. I had to get out of there, as quickly as possible and with as little contact with Connor as I could manage. Then, I needed to pack up my apartment and move in the middle of the night while he was asleep.

  Yeah. That was a good plan. I wasn’t sure how I would do it with a pounding headache and no truck or help, but I would figure it out.

  I listened, but the apartment was quiet. Cautiously, I stuck my head out the door and looked around. It was empty. I must have disgusted him so much he left. No doubt, he’d hoped I would wake up and leave before he got home. I was sure he’d be grateful when he realized I had moved in the night. It would save us the awkward embarrassment of reliving my drunken episode every time we passed in the hall. I was sure our coffee dates were over.

  I scurried across the living area, grabbing my purse from the floor. I had no idea where my clothes were, and I couldn’t see my shoes, but I didn’t care. I had twenty pairs of flats in the closet, and I simply had to go down the hall. I reached the door and stopped dead at the large piece of paper hanging on it.

  Jenny

  If you are reading this, you are awake—or at least coherent and no doubt panicking.

  Stop.

  I’ll be back soon.

  Don’t run. Go sit on the couch and relax.

  I’m sure you need this.

  Taped below was a new toothbrush. I reached out, touching the white handle. He was always so thoughtful. My gaze returned to the note.

  Towels in the bathroom. Tylenol on the counter. Water in the fridge.

  Did I mention, stop panicking?

  Connor x

  PS: You look cute in my shirt.

  PPS: I know you’re still panicking and want to leave. Your clothes are in the laundry. I took your keys and your shoes—you can’t go anywhere.

  PPPS: If you feel like you are being held against your will on house arrest, then I suggest you move on to the next phase of being kidnapped. Stockholm syndrome. In case you don’t know, that is where you develop an intense bond and deep feelings f
or your captor—me. I already have them for you.

  PPPPS: Please sit down. STAY. Back soon. Don’t make me come find you. I will. I’m a cop. I can do that.

  I blinked at the note and reread it. I looked down at the shirt and smiled, then laughed when I reread the PPPPS part. I reached out and tore the toothbrush away from the paper, returned to the bathroom, and used it vigorously. I also had a quick but refreshing shower and brushed my hair, emerging a few minutes later feeling human again. I padded to the kitchen, still wearing his T-shirt and my underclothes. I located the water and Tylenol and swallowed some pills, hoping they would ease the throbbing pain in my head. I desperately hoped they would ease the nerves in my stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol I drank and everything to do with the confession I had spilled because of the alcohol I drank.

  The sound of the key in the door made me turn my head, and I watched, wide-eyed, as Connor walked in, his hands full of bags. He stopped when he saw me regarding him warily from the couch. Setting down the bags, he crossed over and, before I could react, leaned over the back of the couch, dragged me up into his arms, kissed me soundly, and pulled back with a smile. “Stopped panicking yet?”

  “Um, no?”

  He leaned down and nuzzled my lips. “Stop now, please.”

  “Connor—”

  “I kissed you, Jenny. I started it.”

  I grimaced. I was certain falling into his apartment drunk had started it. I looked up when he chuckled.

  “You talk out loud a lot, don’t you? I never noticed it before today.” He grinned down at me. “Not much of an inner voice?”

  I shut my eyes. It would seem that was all I did around him. Spill my innermost thoughts.

  He stroked my head with his large hand, his touch light. “I brought dinner. We are going to eat and talk.” He paused. “If your head is up to it?”

  I nodded. “It’s fine.”

  “Good.”

  “Do I get my keys and shoes back?”

  “Nope.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t expected that answer.

  “Unless you really want them.”

  I shook my head.

  He leaned down again, his face level with mine. “I like you in my shirt. And you smell like me.”

  “I had a shower, and I used your soap. I hope that’s okay?”

  He nodded. “Perfect. I like you smelling like me. Have you moved on in your kidnapped-adoring-your-captor-syndrome? You there yet?”

  My breath caught. “Aren’t you moving a little fast?” I squeaked. I had only broken up with John a couple of hours ago. Where was all that coming from?

  He shook his head, his face getting closer. He wrapped his hand around the back of my neck, pulling me close. “I’ve been waiting for you since the day I moved in, Jenny. As far as I’m concerned, it’s been too long.”

  Once again, I found myself drowning in his kiss.

  When he finally released me and moved away, I stared after him in shock.

  Since he moved in? He’d been waiting since he moved in?

  That was six months ago.

  I wanted him to come back and talk to me. My fingers brushed my swollen lips. They wanted him back as well.

  I sighed.

  The Stockholm syndrome had definitely started.

  “Eat, Jenny. You need something in your stomach.”

  “I ate earlier,” I protested. I remembered that part.

  “You spewed up your poutine about three hours ago, Wren.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Not much of a drunk, are you? You eat greasy foods the morning after. Not while you’re drunk. They always come back.”

  I gaped at him. I had eaten poutine? I hated poutine. I shuddered. He had seen that? Oh God, that was so gross.

  He shrugged. “Well, you ate it. So, throwing it up was a good thing, I guess, if you hate it so much.”

  Oh. My. God. My mouth had no filter today. None.

  I stared at him in horror. I could feel my entire body flushing with embarrassment. “I’m so, so sorry,” I muttered. “You shouldn’t have seen that.”

  He waved his hand dismissively. “Nope. It’s fine. I’ve seen lots worse in my line of work. No doubt I’ll see it again.”

  “What?”

  He nodded enthusiastically around his mouthful of noodles. “No doubt I’ll piss you off, and you’ll have to go drinking with Jackey sometime. Best we got the first one over with now.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine ever being pissed at this man. He was perfection walking. I also knew I was never drinking again.

  He laughed, slapping his knee as he guffawed. “Inner monologue, Jenny. You really need to work on that. Between no filter and that expressively beautiful face…I can read you no problem.”

  Huh. John always said I was closed off and removed to him. My inner monologue only seemed to fail around Connor.

  Connor leaned forward, his chopsticks loaded with noodles. “Open up, Wren.”

  That was the second time he’d called me by that name. “Wren?”

  He grinned. “Jenny Reynolds. Jenny Wren. It’s how I always thought of you. You remind me of one of those little birds with your soft brown hair and those dark eyes. Do you hate it?”

  “No,” I admitted, feeling shy. “I kinda like it.”

  “Good. Now open up and let me feed you, little bird.”

  I opened my mouth, and he gently fed me the noodles, smiling in approval as I chewed. “You will drink again. I will piss you off. I promise you that.” He traced my cheek with his fingers. “But I’m going to try really hard to be a good man for you. The kind you deserve.” He handed me a container and a spoon. “I got you soup. Eat it, please.”

  I stared at him as he went back to his food.

  The kind I deserve?

  I wasn’t sure what kind that was, but the thought of it being Connor made me smile.

  Connor’s phone rang, and he picked it up with a smile of apology. After listening, talking, and laughing for a couple minutes with whoever was on the other end, he hung up, his expression amused. I heard something about “smell” and “car” and “it’ll never be the same,” but I didn’t pay it much attention. He grinned at me. “That was my partner.”

  “Everything okay?”

  He chuckled. “For me, yep. Not so sure for someone else.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” He moved closer to me on the couch, his hand clasping mine. “Feeling better?”

  “I am. Thank you.”

  “Good. Your arm okay?”

  “It’s fine, Connor.”

  “He isn’t going to touch you again. Ever.”

  “I don’t plan on seeing him again.”

  “I hope not. He doesn’t deserve to be in the same room as you.”

  I shook my head. No one had ever sounded so protective or caring. I wasn’t used to the feeling. I stifled a yawn as I looked at Connor. If he was home this afternoon, I wondered if he had to work in the morning. He shook his head when I asked.

  “No. I’m off until Sunday—three full days. I’ve been looking forward to the time off.”

  “I guess I should, um, go. I’m sure you have plans tonight.”

  “I do, and she is sitting next to me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Did I frighten you earlier, Jenny? All the talk about us?”

  I sighed, lifting his hand and studying it in the light. His fingers were long and callused, his palm large and yet always so gentle when he touched me. I glanced up at him. “Frighten me? No. Surprise me, yes. It feels rather surreal, Connor. This morning, I bought a watch for John. This afternoon, that relationship ended badly. Tonight, I’m here with you, and you’re telling me you have feelings for me.”

  “You said you had feelings for me too, Jenny.” He hesitated, his voice wary. “Or was that the liquor talking?”

  I kissed his hand. “No. The liquor made me brave, but I meant it.”

  “Did I break up the two of you?”


  “No. We’d been drifting apart for a long time, even before you moved in. I think I stayed with him out of convenience and habit.” I shrugged sheepishly. “Guess that doesn’t make me a very good person, does it?”

  “It makes you human.” He sighed, his head falling back on the couch. “The first day I moved in here, I saw you. You were laughing at something Jackey said, and I thought you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. You came over, introduced yourself, and welcomed me to the building.” He turned his head, his eyes serious. “You were so full of light and kindness. I fell for you right there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh, indeed. I found out you had a boyfriend, so I told myself I could just be your friend, at least for the time being. But I loved bumping into you or running out of ketchup.”

  “You eat a lot of it. You were always asking for it.”

  He grinned. “I never use the stuff. It was something I noticed you had a lot of in your fridge one day when I was over for coffee and grabbed the cream.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I kept it on hand for John. I never used it either. He put it on everything.”

  Connor’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Well, at least he was good for one thing.” He softened his voice. “I loved how you always offered me coffee in the mornings if you saw me. It was my favorite time of day—getting to sit with you for a few minutes and talk to you, see you smile.” His cheeks flushed slightly. “I, ah, may have memorized your schedule so I knew when I’d bump into you. Coffee with Jenny days were the best.”

  My own cheeks tinted, and Connor frowned at me. “Jenny?”

  “I may have noted all of those days, as well. I always made sure to brew extra coffee.”

  “Quite the pair.”

  I looked at him. “Quite.”

  The air around us grew warm, and Connor’s gaze darkened as his hand squeezed mine. “I want to kiss you again. Will you let me?”

  “Please,” I breathed.