I stared at him blankly, letting the word hang in the air. There was so much happening that my brain hadn’t quite caught up to the conversation yet. Things were hitting me one at a time. Christian came to get me. We’re here together. He’s not upset about what I said. He’s here; I can reach out and touch him. My career at Prime was over, just like that. It should have hurt, I knew, but it didn’t. Instead, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my chest.
“So what happens now? You haven’t even answered me,” I wrung my hands anxiously. This could all still be a mistake. A big, fat, giant mistake.
“What didn’t I answer?”
“I don’t need you to apologize to me. I just told you I quit my job to be with you. You don’t have anything to say to that?”
“You never were a very patient person, were you?” He stood up, pulling me with him. With a gentle finger, he tilted my chin up and kissed me. “Tessie, I have loved you from the moment I first laid eyes on you. I don’t care how young we were; when two people meet each other and their lives become so entwined, it’s a blessing. What we have could be so much more than we’re allowing it to be. You’re my best friend, but you’re also the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Inside and out.”
The tears were moving in a constant stream now, staining the collar of my shirt with black mascara droplets. It was amazing I still had makeup to cry off.
“I told you once, in this very spot,” he continued. “That I wanted to make you my wife. In the immature words of a young boy, I tried to tell you how I felt. I tried to say that I knew no one would ever compare. I was right—you’re still the only one for me.”
He reached into his pocket and bent down on one knee. He kissed the palm of my left hand and flipped it over.
“Tessa Elizabeth Monroe,” he said, eyes glued on me. “Will you let me be your husband so we can stop all this nonsense and just be together?”
A laugh escaped my lips as my mouth stretched into a smile. I couldn’t think of anything to say that summed up my feelings at that moment. The only word I could muster was, “Yes.”
A smile crept across his face, that mischievous one that had come to affect me in unexpected ways. He slipped the ring onto my finger, stood up, and kissed me again. His lips were soft but forceful, purposeful, taking what belonged to them. My pulse raced at the thought of myself as Christian’s, and of Christian as mine. I didn’t want the kiss to end, but eventually it had to. We broke apart, breathless.
“It’s really true, you know,” I looked up into his eyes.
“What?”
“This right here,” I stretched my arms around him, resting my cheek against his chest where I could hear his heart beating. “This is exactly where I belong.”
He kissed the top of my head. “I know, Tessie.”
I looked up at him again, searching his eyes to see that familiar warmth more clearly. The love there was deep, powerful. It made me want to…
“Christian? We need to go somewhere. Now.”
“Agreed,” he answered, dragging me back to the car. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Where are we going?” I called after him, thrilled by his overwhelming impatience.
“My place. But if that doesn’t work for you, I hear the building elevators are very nice.”
EPILOGUE
Christian found his wife in her office, typing furiously on her keyboard. Her eyes glued to the screen, she didn’t notice him come in. He waited for a lull in the rapid-fire clicks and tapped her on the shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”
Tessa jumped when she saw the time on her computer screen. She clicked send on her last email, saved her documents, and closed out all her windows. “Let’s go. Kendra will kill us if we’re late. Did you bring Emma’s birthday present?”
“It’s in the car. I grabbed it this morning.”
Together they gathered their belongings, including Christian’s camera, and locked up Douglas & Monroe Creative for the night. What had once been just a photography studio was now a multi-room office. Christian had plenty of space for his photo shoots, but Tessa had room for her own office and a conference room for client meetings. The project had taken a few months to complete, but their joint business venture had so far been a success.
“I booked four more clients today, honey,” she smiled up at him, walking arm in arm to the car. “One’s just for a photo package but the rest are looking for the works. I’ve got a great idea for one of them—this construction company downtown. They want a full billboard done. Can you believe that?”
He kissed her forehead, hugging her to him. “Just tell me where to be and when. You’re the brains, I’m just the lens.”
“Ha, ha,” she elbowed him. “This whole thing was your idea. That makes us both the brains.”
When they arrived at Birch’s, Kendra greeted them with warm smiles and hugs. She was not in the grip of her usual pre-party meltdown, so things must’ve been going well.
“It’s so nice to have you on-time for everything these days,” she chuckled as she squeezed Tess to her. “Now get my kids out of here before they hurt themselves. You,” Kendra grabbed Christian’s arm. “Finish the casserole.”
“Aye, aye.” He jumped right into his assigned task, stirring the ingredients together in the pan. Tess admired him for a moment, envious that their joint cooking class had achieved limited success. Christian found he had a gift for casseroles and Italian dishes—a “natural” the instructor had called him. She, on the other hand, was fantastic at pastry shells, but not much more. If her recipe involved a heated appliance of any kind, Christian still needed to supervise her.
She allowed herself one mournful sigh and then set to work rounding up small red-headed Peterson children. “Riley? Emma? Anntess is here! Come and play with me!”
“They’re over here, Tess,” Grant called from the sink, where he was washing the last of the serving platters. He toed at his two children until they came out from underneath the counter. “Don’t mess with your Auntie, kids. I hear she means serious business these days.”
Tess sat the birthday girl on her hip and held out her hand to Riley. “Come here, big guy.” At nearly four, he didn’t have to struggle to keep up with her quick pace toward the dining room. Emma could’ve walked with her as well, but it was much faster just to carry the wobbly toddler.
Kendra caught up to them in the doorway and handed Tess a shopping bag. “Emma’s dress and tiara are in here and Riley’s outfit too. Can you dress them, please?”
“Sure.” As Tess started walking again, Kendra grabbed her arm. When their eyes connected, Kendra’s grew wide. She squeezed Tess’s arm gently.
“Come on, my sweet kiddies. Let’s get you dressed,” Tess said, shrugging her friend’s hand from her shoulder.
Once his casserole was deemed worthy by Kendra, Christian quickly received his own ban from the kitchen. Kendra was all too aware of his limited talents. Still laughing, he found Tess and the children in Kendra’s makeshift playroom in the corner. Both Riley and Emma had been wrangled into their party clothes, although the birthday tiara sat on Tessa’s lap for safe keeping.
“Riley tried to feed it to her,” Tess explained.
They sat together on stools to watch the children, soaking in the peaceful quiet before relatives and friends descended on them. He slid his arm around her waist and pinched the ticklish spot on her side. Tess laughed lightly, resting her head on Christian’s shoulder.
“Are you ready for this?” he asked her, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“As I’ll ever be,” she sighed.
“Enough already, you two. There’s children present,” Kendra smiled at them. “It’s cute. But really, there’s a time and a place.”
Tess swatted a hand at her. “You asked for this, remember?”
“Fair enough,” she sat down in an empty chair nearby, stretching out her legs in front of her. “It’s better than the alternative, I suppose.”
Grant backed through the kitchen door, balancing a tray of four filled champagne glasses. “It’s party time, folks. Why wait for the guests?”
“Please,” Kendra reached out for one right away. “Mommy needs the rest of the bottle.”
“Finish what’s in your glass first,” her husband teased, handing one bubbling glass over. He passed out the rest and left the tray on the bar counter. Grant raised his glass, gesturing for the others to stand up for a toast. “To Emma’s first birthday, Riley’s first year as a big brother, and Kendra’s first year as the gorgeous and amazing mother of two.”
“Aww, I’m blushing,” Kendra smiled, kissing his cheek. She raised her own glass. “To my best friends, who finally sorted out their crazies and now, happily, leave me out of the middle!”
Christian, realizing he was next in line, cleared his throat. “To the best wife I’ve ever had and the most entrepreneurial marketing consultant in town.”
It was Tess’s turn to smile, and to toast. Christian nudged her gently and as she looked around their foursome, she realized all eyes were on her, all glasses raised and waiting. Just one more toast and they could all sip their glasses.
Tess raised her own glass, paused, and then handed it to Christian. “To not drinking alcohol for the next nine months or so.”
###
About the Author
Stephanie Haddad is a full-time mom by day and a writer by naptime. She lives in the Boston area with her loving husband, precocious toddler, and cuddly dog. While her short fiction has appeared in several online publications and won a handful of contests, Stephanie only began publishing her novels in 2011. Visit her website
www.stephaniehaddad.com
for more information on forthcoming titles.
Discover other titles by
Stephanie Haddad
at Smashwords.com.
###
Read on for an excerpt from Stephanie’s next novel,
Love Unlisted
…
Available now at Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, & Amazon.
An excerpt from
LOVE UNLISTED by Stephanie Haddad
Mark Preston doesn’t have enough line items in the Pro column to keep dating him. It’s not that he has too many Cons—although that column is sizable—just not enough Pros. I scroll through the list in my head one more time as I wring my hands, waiting for him at Ciao Bella on Boston’s Newbury Street. There’s no need to consult my Book of Lists; I easily memorized
The Pros & Cons of Mark Preston
as I agonized over this decision.
The simple fact that I’ve been waiting here for almost a half-hour, watching the condensation drip from our matching glasses of ice water onto the red tablecloth, is reason enough to be mad at Mark. Mad enough to dump him? Not on its own, but when considered along with that lengthy unbalanced list, it’s enough.
Although I’m confident in my decision, I’m still nervous. I mean, really nervous. I’ve never let a man stick around this long before. Six months is a substantial amount of time for me. Mark’s not that bad. He’s a good guy, but there’s just not enough substance between us. I’m going to do this. I’m going to
freaking
do this.
Mark enters the restaurant, handsome as usual, and he grins when he catches my eye. In all our time together, he’s never missed an opportunity to smile at me, one of his top Pros. It’s flattering, and kind of sweet, but I can’t let it deter me from my objective.
He’s also well-dressed, another Pro, in a vibrant burgundy tie and a sharp black suit, my favorite of his extensive wardrobe. It’s been nice to date a guy with keen fashion sense for once, but sometimes Mark is almost too dapper. That’s a big Con. No man should be better dressed than his girlfriend; I’m supposed to be the arm candy here.
I force a smile onto my face as Mark leans down to give me one of those awkward half-bent-over hugs and a peck on the lips. I accidentally stiffen at his touch. Oops. Mark is very perceptive, something that’s both a Pro and
a Con. It’s nice to know he cares, but the only thing more annoying than being annoyed with Mark is hearing him say—
“What’s wrong, Grace?”
Every five minutes.
“Nothing,” I mutter through gritted teeth. Let him ask me a dozen times, but I’m not giving in. I’ll drop the news when I’m good and ready. Mark sits. He stares. He gives up—thank goodness.
“I got stuck at work. Sorry to keep you waiting,” Mark sighs, glancing at the menu. He plans children’s birthday parties at our shared work place, Creative Celebrations. I’m glad business is booming for him, but there’s only so
much time Mark can spend booking balloons, pony rides, and clowns—a huge Con, for the record. Since he’s a bit of a work-a-holic, another
Con, it’s tough to pull his focus from his work desk some days.
By now, I know his innocuous comment is an invitation for meaningless, work-related dialogue. I consider taking the bait while I scrape absentmindedly at a scratch in my seat’s leather padding, and decide to let the comment linger unanswered. Talking about work is overrated. And boring. Also, clowns terrify me.