“Never.” Eve bucked against him, squirming and crying out with pleasure as he buried himself deep inside her heat then withdrew almost completely before plunging inside once again. It was the most exquisite possession he’d ever known. Seconds later, she screamed his name and convulsed in spasms of pleasure. It was all he needed. The white heat of orgasm pulsed through him as he grabbed her hips and thrust once, twice, three more times and then exploded in a flame of need and desire. And love.
Epilogue
The third Saturday in April proved the perfect day for a wedding. Not that weather was a factor. Annie would have fought rain, sleet, even a tornado to make it to her wedding. In less than an hour, she’d become Mrs. Michael Sorbonne. She was a wreck, pacing barefoot in the basement of St. Christopher’s Church as Eve chased after her, trying to jab gardenias in her hair.
Eve’s post pregnant pounds lent a gentle flair of curve and fullness to her hips and breasts which in Evie’s opinion transformed the too slender woman into a tantalizing specimen of female allure. Perfect for the canvas. Or maybe Eve’s radiance had less to do with weight and more to do with her new husband and new daughter.
“I wish Michael would hurry up,” Annie said, nibbling at a newly manicured nail.
“He’ll be here,” Eve said. “Try to relax.”
“What if Michael can’t get Dr. Martin to cover for him?” Annie stood still for a half second to let Eve thrust a piece of baby’s breath in her hair. “He’ll miss his own wedding. That’s what will happen. Oh, Lord, why did I have to fall in love with a doctor?”
“Have a little faith in him, Annie,” Evie said, reaching in her purse for a nail file. She handed it to her daughter who gave her a watery smile and sniffed.
“Thanks.” She started sawing at her thumb. “Maybe he’s not even at the hospital. Maybe he’s changed his mind and is going to leave me stranded at the altar.”
“Of course, he wouldn’t do that,” Evie said, a twinge of the old guilt tugging at her as she acknowledged her part in her daughter’s doubts.
“You never know,” Annie went on. “That’s exactly what Arianna’s fiancé did.” The second she uttered the words, she clamped a hand over her mouth and said, “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I said that.”
“You’re safe,” Eve said. “Arianna’s not here yet.”
“I’m losing it.” Annie sawed away at the jagged edge of another nail. “A week ago, I wouldn’t have been so ridiculously inconsiderate. Now I’m like a psycho.”
“He’ll be here,” Eve said, following her sister-in-law with another gardenia. “Hold still, just a sec.” She pinned the second gardenia at the base of Annie’s up do. “Perfect.”
“Who’s perfect?” Quinn emerged from the hallway looking handsome and elegant in a black tux with a burp pad slung over his right shoulder. He carried Hope Ann, the newest addition to the Burnes’s family in his arms as though this were his tenth child instead of his first.
“Nothing’s perfect,” Annie wailed. “This is all going to be a disaster. Michael’s going to be late or maybe he won’t show at all.” She bit her lower lip, smudging her lipstick. “And look at my nails.” She thrust out her hands to display ten chipped and bitten fingers. “I’m a mess.”
“You look beautiful to me,” Quinn said, smiling at his sister.
“Oh, what do you know,” she snapped. “You’re in love.”
Quinn’s smile slipped to his wife. She smiled back. Quinn was in love and he was finally happy. It showed in the depths of his silver-blue eyes when he looked at his wife or held his four month old daughter. And there was peace there, too.
Eve moved toward her husband and child, placing a soft kiss on the top of Hope Ann’s dark head, and then brushing her lips against Quinn’s. “I think your sister needs to see her fiancé,” she whispered. “Now.”
“Can’t it wait twenty minutes for the service?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll see if I can locate him.” He stroked her cheek. “Come with me. Mom, will you hold the baby for a minute?”
How could she refuse? She held out her arms and pulled the tiny, baby powder bundle into her arms, sifting back through years and memories to a time when Quinn and Annalise were this age. Who would have guessed life would take such turns? Evie clasped the baby’s tiny fingers between her own. Children were about hope and innocence, and pureness of spirit. Quinn and Eve’s love for one another would foster each of these.
“Michael!” Annie broke through Evie’s thoughts as she let out a wail and ran toward her husband-to-be, thrusting herself at him so hard, he almost lost his balance.
“Annie?” He wrapped his arms around her and said, “What’s wrong?” He still wore a scrub shirt but he’d changed into his tuxedo pants and patent leather shoes, which made him look amusingly ridiculous.
Annie pulled away and slid Michael’s glasses off his face so she could peer straight into his eyes. “You weren’t trying to get out of this marriage, were you?” She leaned in until they were nose to nose.
“What are you talking about?”
Her voice rose. “Are you trying to jilt me?”
Michael shook his head and pulled back. “I can’t see you, you’re too close and I’m getting dizzy.”
She inched backward. “Oh my God, that’s it. You don’t want to get married.”
He snatched his glasses and shoved them back on his face. “Of course, I want to get married.”
“No, you don’t. I knew it.” She shook her head and a gardenia floated to the floor. “Sylvia was right, yes she was.”
“Sylvia?” Quinn advanced on his sister. “What exactly did Sylvia have to say?”
“Yes,” Michael asked, folding his arms over his chest, “what did the illustrious
horoscope monster
have to say about our wedding day?”
Annie shrugged and avoided their gazes. “Stuff.”
“Stuff,” Michael repeated.
“Exactly what kind of stuff?” Quinn asked.
She darted a glance at her fiancé and then her brother. Evie watched the byplay with amusement. At least Annie had the good grace to look at her soon to be husband first. She was learning.
“Annie?” Michael moved toward her.
“Okay, okay.” Her voice dipped to a half mumble, “Maybe she said something about
True love never dies. False love tells lies.”
Both men stared at her. “What?” Michael scratched his head and blinked.
“You heard me.” Annie thrust out her chin and repeated, “True love never dies. False love tells lies.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Quinn rounded on her impatiently.
“It’s so obvious.” She pointed a finger at Michael and said, “He doesn’t want to marry me. False love,” she spat out.
“For the love of God,” Michael moaned.
“Damn,” Quinn snapped. He cast a desperate look at his wife. “What the hell is she talking about?” Eve lifted her slender shoulders and mouthed,
I don’t know.
Evie shifted the baby in her arms and moved toward her daughter. “Annie,” she said in a soothing voice, “Michael loves you.”
“But Sylvia said false love tells lies.”
“Sylvia also said true love never dies,” Evie repeated. “You and Michael share a true love. I see it every time he looks at you. I hear it in your voice. If your love were false, it would have died long ago.”
Annie looked at Michael, her eyes filled with tears. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I’m so afraid I’ll lose you.”
He pulled her into his arms and said, “The only way you’ll lose me is if you push me away. Don’t do that, Annie. It would kill me.”
She reached up on tiptoe and brushed her mouth over his. “I want four children.”
“At least,” he murmured, kissing her again.
“They say it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding, but you know what?” She smiled up at him. “I think seeing you right now is very good luck. The best in the world.”
Michael cleared his throat and said, “I think you’re absolutely right.”
Quinn leaned over and kissed his wife on the mouth. “I love you.”
Evie looked on, knowing her children were among the lucky few who shared a true love that would carry them through a lifetime of living and loving. As for herself, she had a string of three more names to attach to Evie Burnes; grandmother, mother-in-law, mother. And that was exactly what she wanted, today, tomorrow, always.
The End
PIECES OF YOU is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and situations are all products of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, locales, or events, are purely coincidental.
COPYRIGHT
Copyright 2011 by Mary Campisi
Sometimes hiding in the shadows is the only way to protect your heart.
Quinn Burnes’s mother disappeared when he was only fifteen leaving him with a despondent father, a little sister who suffers panic attacks, and eight notebooks containing the truth about his mother. He guards this secret for eighteen years, until on an otherwise normal day, his mother re-enters his life, pleading for his help. She’s in danger and the only thing that can save her is reclaiming the identity she shunned years ago.
Quinn is a master of emotional detachment, from his successful career as a personal injury attorney to his strings of meaningless relationships with beautiful women who possess uneasy temperaments; a sure formula to keep his heart safe and insure he’s the first to walk away. Until he meets the mysterious ‘Danielle’ a woman with too many secrets who’s on the run from the abusive, estranged husband she shot and may have killed. Danielle isn’t like any woman he’s ever met, but can he risk his heart for someone who’s doing exactly what his mother did eighteen years ago? Someone who may ultimately leave him, just like his mother?
Mary Campisi should have known she’d become a writer when at age thirteen she began changing the ending to all the books she read. It took several years and a number of jobs, including registered nurse, receptionist in a swanky hair salon, accounts payable clerk, and practice manager in an OB/GYN office, for her to rediscover writing. Enter a mouse-less computer, a floppy disk, and a dream large enough to fill a zip drive. The rest of the story lives on in every book she writes.
When she’s not working on her craft or following the lives of five young adult children, Mary’s digging in the dirt with her flowers and herbs, cooking, reading, walking her rescue lab mix, Cooper, or on the perfect day, riding off into the sunset with her very own ‘hero’ husband on his Electra Glide Classic.
Mary loves to hear from readers at
[email protected]