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prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
businesses, places, events and incidents are either
the products of the author’s imagination or used in
a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely
coincidental.

WARNING: This eBook contains mature themes
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TRUST ME, MY LOVE

E MMA QUINN

TRUST ME, MY LOVE

E MMA QUINN

Dylan

iving in California and being super filthy rich
certainly has its perks, I thought as I sat on
the balcony overlooking the ocean. The sun
was setting fast, and the orange-gold seemed
to have lit the waves on fire. I was chilling,
just relaxing and waiting for the darkness.
That’s when all the best fun would start. Isn’t

that when all the best things happen?

Mishauna, my girlfriend, was inside getting us more
drinks. The thumping music and laughter of the
already wild party spilled outside, washing over me.
I enjoyed the feeling. There were celebrities inside
—actors, actresses, and models. As I was funding
the festivities, I was thrilled that some of the sexiest
lingerie models in the business were in there; and
that certain actresses who were exploding onto the
Hollywood scene and taking it by storm were also
in there, yes, I was thrilled.

Just to hobnob and rub shoulders with them gave

me a thrill, but to know I could actually score with
someone that night was an even better feeling. It
would not be absurd to say that I felt like a god as I
lounged there waiting for Mishauna to get back
with my refreshment. She hated it when I mingled
with the beauties at my parties, but hey, I didn’t
care one bit. She could either get onboard with my
lifestyle and live like a queen, or she could go back
to her low-level modeling career and live however.
I had told her that on more than one occasion.
Secretly, I would have hated to lose her. She was
gorgeous, sexy, and put up with my bullshit with
considerably less drama than my last girlfriend.

That night, however, I had my partially drunken
eye set on a hot little number who had recently
debuted in her first feature-length film, which had
resulted in immediate offers for leading parts in two
other films. The director for one of them was
Steven Spielberg and the other was Ron Howard.
Her career was set unless she had a fantastically
stupid manager or agent that screwed it up for her
somehow.

Nevertheless, I knew I might not see her at another
one of my galas for a while. If I didn’t act soon, I
might not get a second chance to get my hands on
her. She was older than most of the women I went
for at these parties, but I thought she looked damn
fine to be twenty-seven, only one year younger

than myself. And, hey, I was feeling adventurous.

Twenty minutes passed and Mishauna still had not
returned. Breathing deep of the warm salty air, I
closed my eyes for a moment, visualizing how
stunning Leona, the actress, looked as she swayed
to the music with both hands in the air. That silver,
body-hugging dress was so sexy on her it should
have been illegal. And, it probably was somewhere
in the world—but not in California, and for that I
was thankful. The neckline plunged dangerously
toward her belly button; the hemline barely
covered her ass when she stood still.

I shivered as a delicious chill swept over me, raising
gooseflesh on my arms. I could imagine unpinning
that long, wavy mane of dark hair. Yes, she would
be naked except for that gorgeous hair falling down
and covering just enough of her body to tease me.

Opening my eyes, I turned to the house. All three
levels on that side were glass—how else were my
guests and I supposed to get the best views of the
Pacific Ocean? My father, Philip Rochester, had
taken one look at the place and gone off on a rant
about how I should be outgrowing my party-boy
ways and looking for a less juvenile house. I saw
nothing juvenile about it as I stared in at the throngs
of celebs having a good time.

I spotted Leona dancing on the second floor with a

group of men and women. She was surrounded by
admirers but seemed to be totally alone, in her own
world as she swayed and enticed.

A quick survey of the entrance showed that
Mishauna was nowhere in sight. She had probably
been sidetracked by some of her catty friends, who
undoubtedly had her pulled into some corner
gossiping about someone at the party they found
offensive for some trumped up reason that would
give them an excuse to be the snooty bitches for a
while. I think they seriously just wanted to talk shit
about people to make themselves feel as if they
were better than others. I didn’t like Mishauna’s
friends, but she always seemed to invite them to the
parties anyway, and we usually ended up in an
argument over it.

Keeping my eye on Leona as I strolled toward the
house, I grinned as I caught teasing little glimpses
of her perfect ass cheeks. Did she know I was out
there, looking up at her? Yeah, I think she probably
did. Women like to be noticed, and they like even
more to be desired. Nearing thirty, she was working
it like she was afraid it would disappear if she
stopped.

Aging was never easy on women, especially when
they were in front of cameras and everyone
expected them to remain as flawless and ageless as
they were when they were twenty. That fact caused

a bit of insecurity in some women—and yes, I
would exploit that insecurity if I needed to so I
could get them into bed. Was I ashamed of that?
Absolutely not. It’s just the way I had always been.
A player will do whatever he deems necessary to
become the hero in his target’s mind.

And then, for that little while, the time when the
woman submitted to my charms, I felt even more
like a god.

Making my way through the thronging crowd, there
was no sign of Mishauna. I sidled up close to Leona
and began a grinding dance with her back pressed
up to my chest. She was all in for it. I leaned close
to her ear and introduced myself.

“I know who you are, Dylan.” She giggled and
flipped her hair over one shoulder.

That was more of an invitation than I needed at that
point. The upbeat tempo changed to a smoother,
slower jazz number and I was almost sad as she
turned to face me. She had given me a goodly dose
of lust as she wiggled her body against mine.
Turning to me, she laced one arm up and over my
shoulder, her fingers playing with my hair.

“Why don’t you show me somewhere more private
so we can take care of that?” She twisted her hip to
bump into my erection.

I groaned, surprised by her action. Chuckling, I

nodded. “That’s a good idea.” I twirled her around
and led her toward a staircase that led to the third
floor.

As we reached the landing, she put her back against
a wall, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me close. We
were locked in a heated kiss, our hands furtively
exploring each other’s bodies, and she gripped me
through my pants. I moaned deeply, loving her
outright desire for me.

Just as I put my hand on her breast, still locked in a
tongue-war kiss, I heard the unmistakable sound of
Mishauna clearing her throat. Guiltily, I snatched
my hand away and pushed Leona against the wall,
raking her hand from my crotch.

I spun to face Mishauna. She stood with her hands
on her hips, eyes blazing.

“What the righteous hell do you think you’re doing,
Dylan?” She flipped a hand toward Leona. “And
who the hell is she?”

“Mishauna,” I began, shocked and stuttering. I
hated being caught off my guard, and she had done
exactly that. “It’s not…” My voice trailed off as I
debated whether I really cared what it looked like.
Did I really care that my girlfriend had caught me
in the throes of ecstasy with another woman? Not
particularly, but in a way, yes.

“Oh, no! Don’t you go trying to make excuses for

this. You were practically eating her face. I’m
pretty damn sure your tongue was down her throat.
And that ain’t even mentioning her playing racecar
stick shift with your Johnson.” She nodded to my
crotch.

Leona cringed, realizing what was going on. “I’m
going now. Sorry, I didn’t know you were with
him.”

“Honey-pants, you better believe I am. You ain’t
the first one he’s done this with. So, you just run on
downstairs and find you another stud.” Mishauna
flapped her hand dismissively at Leona.

“Mishauna, stop it!” I turned to Leona to call her
back, but she had fled the scene entirely. All I saw
was her hair as she turned the corner. I spun back
to Mishauna. “Really? You think you can just go all
out like that, like you have a deed to me, or some
shit?”

Without warning, she slapped at me. My quick
reflexes saved me from the worst of the strike, but
she still landed the hit and rocked my head back. I
grabbed her wrist as she swung again, this time with
a fist instead of an open palm.

“Let go of me, you cheating prick!” She yanked her
hand away from me. The rage and hate in her eyes
were a bit scary.

“All right, I’m sorry. I think we’ve come to the end

of the line, though, don’t you?” I moved so my
back wasn’t to the stairs.

“You think?” She screamed at me. “Where were
you headed with her? To our bedroom, Dylan?”
Tears began to streak down her pretty face.

My player persona came out then. “No, baby, it
wasn’t like that. She didn’t mean a thing to me, I
swear it.” Realizing what I was doing, I forced
myself to stop. This relationship was over, and I
knew it. There was no salvaging the wreckage this
time, she had seen too much. Running my hand
through my hair, I said, “Mishauna, you don’t
really want to be with me, do you? I mean, I’m no
good for you. You deserve so much better. I’m
really sorry you had to see that, but that’s just who
I am.” I added just enough pleading to my tone to
sound almost sincere.

She broke down into great sobs. That was my cue
to move in and comfort her while still directing her
as gently as possible out of my life. I reached out to
put a comforting arm around her shoulders, falling
into character so easily it was scary, and she hit me.

I mean, she really laid one on me. A fist to the left
cheek that left little white sparks shooting through
my vision.

She stood straight and swiped at her tears. “You
jackass, of course we’re done. I’ve had enough of

your playing and making me look like a damn fool.
And, for your information, I do deserve better.” She
flipped her hair and headed down the stairs, calling
over her shoulder, “And I plan on finding better; it
shouldn’t be too hard.”

Then, she was gone, too.

Furious that she had taken my endgame away from
me and turned it so shockingly around on me, I
stormed into my room and grabbed my motorcycle
key. Even her tears had apparently been faked just
to trick me into thinking she was really upset. How
dare she, I thought as I stomped downstairs and
shouldered rudely between people.

I started straddled my motorcycle, started it, and
tore out of the garage, weaving between the cars
parked on my land until I reached the paved road,
and then I really turned it loose and let it run. There
was no better way to relieve the anger and stress
than a good, fast, and slightly dangerous ride
through the city.

So early in the morning, the streets were mostly
empty. There were a few cabbies going about their
business, and fewer pedestrians, but for the most
part, people were still in their homes. Some would
be sleeping, I knew—at four in the morning, most
people are. And, some would be up getting ready to
start their workdays.

Me? I hadn’t even been to bed yet, and I wouldn’t
be ready to sleep for another few hours. My habit
was to stay up partying as much as possible until a
little after sunrise, and then I would crash into bed,
or on a sofa, and sleep well into the afternoon. I
would wake up in time to nurse my hangover, if I
had one, and then make plans for that evening and
night.

Like I said, the best things in life always seem to
happen in the dark. My stiff-collar father disagrees.
His motto is the exact opposite of mine. He says
some old school shit like ‘make hay while the sun
shines’, and ‘the early bird gets the worm’. I hate
those stupid sayings and can’t believe he made his
millions living by them.

Besides, what’s the point in creating an empire if
you never get to enjoy the fruits of your labor?
Every now and then, he should kick back, put his
feet up, and enjoy the life he created. But no, I
really think he was born before fun was invented.

I zipped between the few cars on the roadways,
switching lanes at will, not bothering with the
stupid speed limit signs or traffic lights. It was
exhilarating, and before too long, all the angst of
my night, and my life, began to fade into the
distance. Once again, I was outrunning those
negative feelings. Once again, I was truly free.

“ W

Emily

ho goes to the library at five in the morning,
Emily? Really?” I stared at my reflection in

the mirror by the door. I was tired, but at least I was
up and ready for the day, put together, groomed
neatly, and nearly fried from the last week at
school. My reflection showed it, too. No matter
how pretty my hair was or how much makeup I
applied, that disconnected, drained expression
stubbornly remained in my eyes.

Hoisting my backpack to the arm of the sofa, I
double-checked that I had everything I needed.
Books, project papers, pens, laptop, and an energy
drink that I knew I should not be drinking were all
neatly packed and in order. I zipped it and
shouldered the straps, liking the weight of the bag
against my back.

I took the stairs even though I was on the fifth floor
and there was an elevator in perfect condition just
down the hall. Staying in shape was important to

me, and the stairs were one way I kept up with my
exercise. Studying to be a surgeon was hard work
to say the least, and it was easy to trade an hour in
the gym for an extra hour of sleep.

I had found that it was also easy to let my usual
healthy eating habits slip to the wayside. It was a
constant battle to find a happy medium with school,
studies, work, and a semi-healthy lifestyle. When I
was younger, I wondered at all the doctors I knew
who weren’t in the best health. As a medical
student, I had figured out why they weren’t the
healthiest people in the world, as their profession
should dictate. They probably ruined part of their
health simply getting through school.

So, I did what I could and really worked at being
healthy and balanced. Figuring out that I retained
more information and was much more productive
early in the mornings while the rest of the world
was just waking up had helped me tremendously.
And, it left me that hour in the evenings, three days
a week, to hit the gym.

This day, though, I had to work on my project early
so I could go to work at Rochester Industries
Warehouse #1 and pull a longer shift than usual.
My father was the manager of the main warehouse
for Rochester Industries, and he allowed me to
work there part-time to help finance my studies. He
sacrificed the most for me to attend medical school,

though, footing the biggest bills. I never allowed
myself to forget his sacrifices, or mother’s.

Tramping down the stairs, sadness fluttered through
my heart at her memory, and I tried to push it away.
She had worked hard when I had been a child. She
worked at her teaching job through the school year.
In the evenings, she taught piano classes from a
studio down the road. In the summers, she picked
up jobs left and right; sometimes as a waitress,
sometimes as a cashier at a local store, and still
taught piano classes. On top of all that, she offered
online tutoring classes to students wishing to brush
up on their German language skills or learn the
language.

My memories of her were happy but very busy
ones. She always had a smile, and it seemed that
she lived in a whirlwind of activity all the time. But
she was happy, and she always had time for me.
She never made me feel as if it were a chore to take
time to cook a good, nutritious dinner, or take me to
the park, or just sit with me and read stories. Truly,
she was an amazing woman, and I hoped to be able
to live up to her memory at least partially.

It was unfair that she was taken from me and
Daddy, but it happened. To watch such a vibrant
and lively woman waste away with cancer was the
most horrible thing I had ever dealt with. And, it
nearly ruined my father.

As I pushed the door open and exited to the
sidewalk, I looked to the East. The sun had only
just begun to paint the horizon with blush. I was on
time. Taking a deep breath, I hooked my thumbs
into the straps at my shoulders and forced a smile.

Think positive, I thought, closing my eyes. Thank
you, Mama and Daddy, this is all because of you, I
continued with my eyes lightly closed and the cool
air softly caressing my cheeks.

Opening my eyes, I walked two blocks up and
turned left, going deeper into the city. It was a
forty-minute brisk walk to the library; a walk that I
had always enjoyed. It never failed that by the time
I reached my destination, whatever had been
bothering me when I left my apartment would seem
insignificant, and I would be ready to tackle
whatever came my way that day.

Twenty-five minutes into the walk, I stopped on the
sidewalk, smiling toward the burst of light on the
horizon. There was only a cab idling at the red light,
and everything was peaceful—that’s another
reason I liked the early morning hours. Before the
drone and roar of endless traffic started up every
day, I had time to mentally set my path for success
for that day. I know, it sounds a little Zen-ish, but it
worked for me.

The crossing light turned red as I stopped. The cab

idled past me, the driver looking at me to see if
perhaps I would summon him. I smiled and looked
back to the crossing light. Checking both ways,
there was no traffic. I was tempted to cross the
street quickly but thought better of it when I heard
what sounded like a street bike whining through the
gears in the distance. I couldn’t tell how far away it
was, or really even which direction it was coming
from because of the echo effect of the empty
streets and the tall buildings.

After the crossing light turned, I could still hear the
motorcycle’s whine, it was just louder. Glancing at
the light again, I ventured onto the street, looking to
my left where I thought the sound was coming
from.

I made it a few steps out when I realized the sound
was coming from my right. My attention snapped
toward the speeding red and black motorcycle as he
came around the turn leaned close to the pavement.
He was in the wrong lane and his head was turned
in the opposite direction as he half-assed checked
for traffic he could have been speeding in front of.
Scrambling backward to avoid being hit, my foot
caught on the curb and sprawled backward onto the
sidewalk, landing on my backpack.

The rider stopped the motorcycle just on the other
side of the intersection, looking over his shoulder. I
had felt the damage to my laptop and was nearly in

a panic as I got to my knees and unshouldered my
backpack. The motorcycle swung back around and
headed toward me slowly. I pulled the laptop from
my bag, and my heart dropped sickeningly into my
gut. I gently opened it as the guy flipped up the
helmet’s visor and then pulled the whole thing off,
dangling it in one hand.

“Hey, are you okay, lady?” His ride idled just loud
enough to be annoying.

I looked sadly at the ruined, shattered screen, and
then turned to him. Standing, brandishing my
broken computer at arm’s length, I advanced so he
could see what he had caused. “What the hell is
wrong with you? You nearly killed me, and you
broke my laptop!” I stepped closer so he could get
a good look.

Snorting laughter, he eyed me as if I were a little
inconsequential insect. “Nearly killed you? I wasn’t
even close to you. You’re the one who ran out in
front of me and then panicked. I just stopped to be
sure you hadn’t hurt yourself.” His condescending
tone infuriated me.

“You were even in the wrong lane! And look!” I
shook the computer at him again. “You need to pay
for this, mister. This is your fault. My crossing light
was green, and your light was red. Don’t you know
that means stop?” I was screaming still. Without my

computer, there was no way I’d make it through my
classes.

He scoffed. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that asshat
scoffed. I wanted to hurt him.

“Like I said, you ran out in front of me. You’re just
lucky I’m such a damn good driver. Anyone else
might have hit your stupid ass. Next time, look
before you cross the damn road.” He revved up the
bike, put it into gear, and turned it around, speeding
off into the shadowed street ahead.

As he turned, I got his license plate number and
hastily scribbled it onto my hand. Grumbling, still
raging inside, I stuffed my broken laptop back into
the pack, and adjusted my course. I headed to the
police station. The library wasn’t happening
without a computer anyway.

The policewoman who helped me was nice, which
was an exception instead of a rule at the local PD. I
was thankful for her understanding and willingness
to give me the time I needed to get through the
whole story. Most would have rushed me, rolled
their eyes, and only taken part of the story into
consideration before finalizing the complaint and
pushing me out the door.

“We can pull the footage from the traffic cams in
the area and see exactly what happened, Miss
Shandon.” She led me to the door. “We’ll do

everything we can.” There was a gleam in her eye
as she flipped the papers against her hand, and her
smile said she knew something that maybe I didn’t
about the situation.

Hoping for the best but truly expecting nothing to
come of it, I thanked her and trudged out the door
thinking how many extra shifts I would need to
work to be able to afford another laptop. I hated
the thought that I might have to ask my father to
front the expense, but I desperately needed my
laptop to get through my classes.

What had started out as a normal, hopeful day for
me, had ended up turning into a steaming pile of
uncertainty, anger, and sore muscles. By the time I
made it to my first class of the day, my head
pounded as if there were a jackhammer on the
loose inside it.

It was going to be a very long day, indeed.

Dylan

early a week passed after the stupid girl
stepped out in front of me that morning. I
was genuinely concerned when I swerved to
miss her; that’s why I turned back to check
on her. And, if I’m being perfectly honest
here, she didn’t do anything wrong. My light
was red, and I was supposed to stop. I was

just feeling so good, letting all the tension and
aftermath of my confrontation with Mishauna blow
away with the cycle exhaust that I wasn’t paying
attention.

Truthfully, though, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be
on the deserted street before five in the morning. I
know, I know. You’re thinking what an ass I am for
not paying closer attention and only thinking of
myself. Well, what can I say? We all do stupid shit
sometimes. Thankfully, though, no one was hurt.
She ranted like a crazy person about her broken
laptop, but she was unharmed; only her pride got
hurt, I thought.

In my opinion, she was rude and ungrateful. I could
have continued on and not stopped to even check
on her, but I didn’t. Then she started flinging
accusations and brandishing that damn computer at
me, so I left her there.

Several days later, I was awakened at the ungodly
hour of nine in the morning by my phone. Without
even looking at the screen, I rejected the call and
rolled back over to go back to sleep. My phone
immediately started ringing again. Once more, I
rejected the call and then powered it off, tossing it
to the nightstand and falling back asleep almost
instantly.

Less than an hour passed, and I was awakened by,
of all people, my father standing by my bed
clearing his throat.

Home alone, I nearly jumped out of bed when he
cleared his throat. Flinging the covers back and
bouncing to the edge of the bed, I stared up in
confusion at my father’s stormy expression. My
sleep-fuddled brain would not come up with any
suitable reason that he should be there.

“Well, it’s good to see you’re well-rested and alert,
Dylan.” His clipped, sarcastic tone implied there
was some sort of trouble and it was my fault.

“Huh?” Still confused, I rubbed my face vigorously
trying to force the last remnants of the previous

night’s alcohol out of my system and wake up.

He made his hand into a kid’s gun, pointed it at me,
and clicked his tongue to imitate a bang. “Exactly!”
He walked to the windows and grabbed the
blackout curtains.

“Dad! Don’t do—”

Too late. The bright morning sun blasted into my
nice, comfy, cave-like room and shot rods of pain
through both my eyes and into my brain. I groaned
loudly and squeezed my eyes shut, turning away
from the windows. My stomach revolted by
crawling up to sit just under my chin, threatening to
spill what little bit of food I had eaten before
crashing.

Dad moved to the next set of curtains and yanked
them mercilessly open, too. He repeated the
process all the way to the end of the room. The
effect was blinding and painful. I groaned and then
dry heaved several times. My father’s response to
this was to use his foot to shove a trashcan close to
me before he grabbed a chair and dragged it over
the floor noisily to sit near the foot of my bed, his
back to the windows.

He waited until I had my stomach under control
before speaking. “I’ve decided that the first day of
the rest of your life is today, Dylan. As of,” he
looked at his watch, “three minutes after ten, your

adolescent lifestyle has abruptly ended.” He waited
for my response.

I couldn’t look directly at him because of the sun at
his back. Opening my eyes to slits, I shaded them
with my hand as I eyed him. The white-gold corona
that surrounded him left him as only a black figure
sitting there facing me. I was definitely not
equipped to handle a confrontation with him that
morning.

“Dad, what the hell? I’m sick, can we just close the
curtains?” I hated how whiney my voice sounded.

He laughed derisively. “Oh, no. I don’t think so,
son. See, we have a problem that needs your
immediate and undivided attention. I need you to
get over your juvenile hangover and clean yourself
up.” He stood and dragged the chair purposefully
slowly back to its original place, and then turned to
me. “Now.” He looked at his watch again. “I’ll give
you ten minutes. If you’re not in the kitchen in ten
minutes, I’m coming back, and it won’t be good.”

It was easier to see his stern and disgusted
expression as he stood away from the bank of floor-
to-ceiling windows, but not much. I didn’t say
anything as I was still trying to keep my stomach
where it should be and force my eyes to focus a bit
better.

He leaned forward, glaring at me. “Do you

understand, Dylan? Ten minutes.” He held out his
arm and tapped his watch.

“Okay!” I nodded as my response had come out
breathy and weaker than I had intended.

As I dragged into the bathroom, I could count my
heartbeats in my skull. My head felt as if it would
explode, and I saw little reddish-black streaks in my
vision radiating from the center outward.

Flipping on the overheads was the last straw. I
ended up on my knees in front of the porcelain god
of drunks. I worshipped there for a few moments,
feeling drained and shrunken a bit worse by each
traitorous upheaval of my stomach. Afterward, I
plodded to the sink and brushed my teeth with my
eyes closed against the light. The pounding in my
head eased a bit but I still poured four aspirin into
my mouth and chewed them up, swallowing the
chalky, bitter sludge with water from the tap.

I had no way of knowing if I had taken the full ten
minutes or not, but it felt more like half an hour had
passed when I finally walked out of my room,
mostly clean and groomed, and dressed in fresh
clothes. Under other circumstances, I would have
been extremely angry and confrontational, but not
that morning, I was far too hungover to be mad.

Dad’s whistling grew louder as I neared the kitchen
and smelled the strong coffee brewing.

So, he’s not a monster set on completely destroying
me this morning, I thought. At least, he’s brewing
me coffee before slamming me with whatever bad
news he’s bearing.

As soon as he saw me, he stopped whistling and his
expression became severe again. He pointed to the
table where a large cup of coffee sat steaming. I
nodded my thanks and hurried to it without a word.
After pouring himself a cup, he sat across the table
from me. It was not lost on me that he had not set
my cup at the head of the table, where I felt I
should have been, seeing that I was in my own
house. But I didn’t argue, and I didn’t move to the
head.

My father was normally easygoing. Since my
mother had left us, though, he had a tendency to
lower the boom on me about the way I lived more
often. The rants and tirades were short-lived, but
sometimes very upsetting for us both. I was a
grown man, though, and he needed to understand
that. Moreover, I thought, he needed to respect it.

“So, what’s up, Dad? What’s this urgent business
that couldn’t wait until I was better?” My
impertinent tone was back, which suited me fine. It
beat sounding like a cowering shit any day of the
week. The coffee sped the effects of the aspirin,
too, and I was feeling a little better with each sip.
That meant my anger at the whole rude situation

was ramping up.

He sat back and pulled folded papers from his
inside jacket pocket. How the man could stand
wearing a dress suit in the California heat was
beyond me, but he did it with flair, never breaking a
sweat. He placed the papers, still folded on the
table between us and tapped them with the tip of
his finger for a few ticks of the clock, eyeing me
with an unreadable expression. Finally, he nodded
once and pushed them toward me.

“Look at those before you get any higher or
mightier with me, son. It would serve you well to
remember your place and act accordingly right
now. I’m in no mood for an argument that I will
most assuredly win right now.” He arched an
eyebrow at me in warning as he had done my whole
life.

Scoffing, I held my tongue, knowing better than to
start before I even knew what was going on. I
snatched the papers and flipped them open. My
heart dropped as I realized what he was showing
me. It was that stupid girl. She had turned me in at
the PD. How dare that brat? I thought but didn’t
speak it. I looked over all the papers, my rage
shooting my blood pressure through the roof and
causing my headache to come back with a
vengeance.

Folding the papers, I laid them on the table and
looked at my father. “Okay, so I messed up. I
stopped to check that she was all right, though. I
apologized to her and everything. She was the one
who was rude and inconsiderate, ranting and raving
like a lunatic.”

He held up his hand and shook his head. My
defense had fallen on deaf ears. He was having
none of it. “You are damn lucky that Susan called
me as soon as she figured out who you were. Let
me enlighten you, son. I left a check for that girl’s
computer, with a little extra tacked on just for her
troubles. I also paid your speeding tickets. Do you
have any idea how many traffic cameras and radars
recorded you as you rode through the city acting
like a maniac on that thing? Do you?” When I
didn’t respond, he slammed his hand on the table.
“I just saved you some jail time, son, the least you
could do is look at me when I speak to you.” He
visibly restrained himself and regained his
composure.

I hadn’t even thought of the traffic cams and radars
as I had sped through the empty streets. A cold chill
traced my spine. The thought of going to jail was
incomprehensible to me. My father was one of the
richest men in the United States, for me to actually
be arrested was something I had never considered.

Still angry and hurting worse than before, I

retorted, “Okay, so I’ll pay you back. What’s the
big damn deal, anyway?”

He laughed. “That’s just grand. What money will
you pay me back with, Dylan? My money? The
money from one of your cards, which, by the way,
are all financed by yours truly.” He pointed to
himself. “No, I think not. As I said earlier, your
juvenile, reckless lifestyle is over. You, my son, are
going to grow up, start working at the company, or I
will cancel every single one of those precious cards
and lock all your cash accounts.” The small, tight
smile on his face said it all.

He was serious. He would cut me off completely.
My stomach crawled back up my throat and the
only thing keeping it down was the extra hard
thumping of my heart, I think. As much as I loathed
the idea of working in the company, I knew I would
have to do as he said or risk being penniless.

Glaring openly, I nodded.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He put the
papers in a neat little stack at the head of the table.
“Now, I’m leaving. I have work to attend to. You
will be in my office first thing in the morning.” He
stood to leave.

“What time is ‘first thing in the morning’?” I asked
glumly, taking a long gulp of my cooling coffee.

“I’m in my office every morning at seven. I expect

you to be there when I get there.” He walked to the
door and then turned. “Do not test me on this,
Dylan. I love you, but I will cut out all your
funding.” He motioned in a circle over his head.
“All this? It’ll go away. All your childish ‘party
pads’ will go away along with all your toys.” He
stepped out and closed the door.

By toys, he meant all my cars and motorcycles,
yachts, and other recreational vehicles I had
amassed over the last ten years. I finished off the
coffee and stood to pour another cup, giving the
police department papers a sidelong glance as I
passed them.

She had actually turned me in to the police. It was a
foreign concept, but one I was beginning to come to
terms with. That stupid girl had, with one flipping
action, turned my life completely upside down.

Now I had to figure out how to get it right side up
again.

Dylan

y dad was always pretty hard on me; even
before my mother left us when I was
fifteen. After that, though, he was even
harder on me; constantly bitching and
griping about how lazy I was and how I
needed to grow up and take my place at the
family business. I never really wanted any

part of the family business, though. Seriously, who
the hell wants to work for their dad when he’s
always downing them? I didn’t. I still don’t.

Although I had grown into an adult with an adult’s
needs and desires, I was going to have to bite the
bullet and go to work at Rochester Industries. I
mean, I couldn’t just rebel and have all my funds
cut out. There was no way I could get a job
anywhere else to finance my posh lifestyle, and I
wasn’t about to give up all of it.

I had been rebelling since the age of sixteen and
hardly knew how to do otherwise up until Dad

walked in and lowered the boom on me that
morning.

Still feeling sick, probably more due to the
constraints he had put on my life than from any
lingering hangover, I did as he had demanded of me
and went to his office the next morning. I stood in
his office looking out the window at the impressive
view of the city below, drinking my third large cup
of coffee for the day. Seven in the morning was not
a good time for me, and even after the copious
amount of caffeine, I was still tired and had an
overall sense of depression.

He came through the door at exactly seven, two
men followed him closely, taking notes on legal
pads as he talked. Poor saps, I thought, following
him around hoping for a scrap from the king,
groveling around him like scolded pups desperate
for attention.

I turned back to the view, scoffing disgustedly. It
was pathetic the way everybody pandered to the
old man, in my opinion, and it was far too early to
even try to be civil to anyone. Maybe after lunch I
would be more tolerant to the bullshit.

The men stayed another fifteen minutes, taking
notes and asking questions. It seemed that even the
smallest details had to be confirmed through King
Rochester. They left, closing the doors behind

them. My father sat at his desk, and I remained at
the window, now watching his reflection. If he
expected me to act toward him as those other two
buffoons had, he had another thing coming.

Finally, I turned to him and took the seat in front of
his desk without being asked. I was his son, after
all, and I didn’t need to wait for him to offer me a
seat. He didn’t speak, only gave me a brief glance,
and then opened a desk drawer, pulling out a thick
manilla file folder, which he opened on his desk. He
donned his reading glasses and looked over the top
rim at me. It was a comical moment in which I
thought he looked like an ancient schoolteacher
scowling over his glasses at a disobedient student.

His unblinking scowl kept me from outright
laughing, but I did grin and shake my head.

“So, you find something here funny, do you?” He
tapped the folder. “If you were the one paying for
all this, you would lose your sense of humor
quickly.”

“What is it? Your expense sheet that proves how
much you spend to have your court fools pandering
to you and hanging on your every word? I can see
how that would be upsetting; but a man has to do
what a man has to do to retain his kinglike status
nowadays, huh?” I was finding it impossible not to
be that rebellious, snarky teenager with him.

He chuckled but there was no humor in the sound
or in his expression. “Oh, you have so much
growing up to do yet, Dylan.” He flipped a few
loose pages, scanning over them briefly as he did
so. “No, this expense file is all yours, son. Do you
have any idea how much it costs me every month
just to maintain that private jet of yours?”

Shocked, I looked up sharply at him. “You’ve got a
whole file just on my expenses?” I laughed.
“Incredible. You’re going to bitch about my
juvenile lifestyle and expenses when I just saw how
you lord your wealth and status over the general
populous. Wow.”

“If you’re referring to Ethan and Daniel, I lord
nothing over them. They are two of the hardest
working men in this office building. Without them, I
would be hard-pressed to keep the day-to-day
routine of this place running smoothly. As for them
hanging on my every word, that’s what they’re paid
to do. They execute all my orders and apprise me
of all the important developments in the last
twenty-four hours. What do you do, Dylan?”

“I’m your son, not some paid jester acting like I
give a shit about any of this.” I tried to reign in my
temper but was finding it more difficult than usual.

“Well, let me help you out. Let’s refresh your
memory of what you do to benefit this company

and your family.” He flipped a page. “You use the
private jet to take yourself and twelve of your
favorite celebrities to Switzerland four times a year,
it seems.” He flipped another page. “Oh, yes, and
you stay at the most luxurious resort for two weeks
while you’re there, and you finance all the booze
and drugs and food in the finest restaurants; you
utilize all the services offered at the resort; oh, and
look at this…you seem to be renting the entire
resort lodge, not just the rooms suitable for your
party of friends.”

My father had never mentioned my Swiss
vacations, or any of its affiliated expenses. Hearing
them read out like that made them seem far higher
and far more superfluous than I had thought
possible. Heat rose to my face. I gritted my teeth
and kept silent.

He flipped more pages. “And here. You use that
oversized yacht of yours to host parties all year
long, it seems. Let me see…” He counted aloud as
he scanned the page. “Twenty-two parties last year;
seventeen already this year.” He let the paper fall
from his hand and took up another. “And here we
have the beach house where I came and interrupted
your nap yesterday. Do you know how much it
costs to maintain that house every year?” He didn’t
wait for a reply, only shook his head and flipped
several more pages. “No, you don’t, Dylan,

because you don’t pay for any of it. You hand
someone a card, and you continue to live however
you deem fit.” He called out what was at the top of
the pages as he lifted one after another and turned
them face-down on the opposite side of the folder.
“The Lamborghini. The Corvettes, not one, but
three. The Ducati. The penthouse in Los Angeles.
The house in Florida. And, gardeners, cooks,
storage fees, maintenance fees…” He took off the
glasses and looked directly at me. “Shall I go on?
Because the list is much, much longer as you can
see here. And, would you like to know the exact
cost of each one? Because I also have that
information here.”

Furious, and more than a bit embarrassed and
emasculated by the overload of information about
myself, I shook my head. He had only gone through
about half the file before him. Having it all lumped
together like that was quite sobering and damped
my hostility quite a bit. I didn’t like knowing that I
had been living so extravagantly on my father’s
dime for so many years, but I was also ill-equipped
to do otherwise. It’s not like I had a job of my own
or my own stream of income from anything I had
ever done or accomplished.

“So, what do you propose we do about correcting
this deficit? How do you propose you begin paying
all this back?” He leaned back in his seat and laced

his fingers together on his lap.

“Pay it back?” My entire body tensed, and my
mind spun. He couldn’t be serious. There was no
way I could ever repay so much money.

He nodded.

“There’s no…no way to…I couldn’t…it’s
impossible!” Nausea set in and my hands shook. I
scrutinized his face to ascertain if he was serious.
He was.

“It might take you the rest of your life, huh?” Then
he grinned and sat forward. “You’re right. It is quite
impossible for you to ever earn enough to repay all
this debt. So, here’s what is going to happen,
Dylan.”

He replaced the papers neatly into the file and
closed it. “This is for you. A present. A reminder.
And, hopefully a catalyst to help get you started on
the right path.” He pushed the folder toward me,
and I took it reluctantly, amazed at the actual heft.

“All right. So, what’s the verdict? What’s my
punishment, Pop?” Even in the light of my
frivolous lifestyle’s ridiculous cost, I was a shit with
a bad attitude. It’s hard to break a decade-long
habit.

“Look at it however you want, son. You are going
to start working right here in the office with me

every morning. Five days a week. As my son, and
heir to everything I have, you have a larger stake in
the happenings here, so if something comes up and
you’re needed on the weekends, you’ll do that
too.”

“What!?” I nearly dropped the file, fumbled it as I
shot forward in my seat, and managed to spill the
remainder of my coffee onto the black and white
marble patterned carpet. “I can’t do that! Every
morning? This early?” I sat back, shaking my head.
I used my feet to push the chair back so I wouldn’t
put my feet in the coffee mess, and then snatched
the cup from the floor.

“Oh, yes. You can and you will. And, I wasn’t
finished.” His grin was maddening. “Every
morning, you’ll report here, and you’ll shadow
Ethan for two hours. You will learn his job. You’ll
be out of here by ten, no later, every morning,
Monday through Friday. Every evening, you will
report to the main warehouse and work from four
until midnight. That way you can learn everything
about this industry from the bottom-up, just like I
did. If you are going to take my place one day, you
need to know how things work on an intimate
level.”

My body tingled as if numb. “That’s a total of ten
hours a day working, every day. No, I can’t do that.
That leaves me no time for anything other than

work. I’m not a machine, you know.”

“You can, and you will. Else, all your finances are
done. Then you will have to go out and get a
regular job and try to pay your own way in life. Do
you know what that means? It means all your fancy
houses, toys, vacations, parties, and all your so-
called friends with celebrity status will disappear,
too.”

“Nobody works ten hours a day. Nobody. That’s
ridiculous.” In the back of my mind, I thought that
maybe his attitude was why my mother had left. I
couldn’t say I would blame her, if Dad was this
tough on her, too.

“You’d be shocked at how many people work ten-
hour shifts at jobs that pay much less and for bosses
who care much less about them. A lot of people in
today’s world work two jobs just to keep a decent
roof over their family’s heads. You’ve lived in your
party-hardy fantasy world far too long. It’s over
and it’s time for you to join the real world, the
world of contributing adults.” He pushed away
from his desk. “Your job starts right now.” He
pointed to the spilled coffee I was so adeptly
avoiding. “With that. Go find something to clean
that up. It’s high time you start cleaning up your
own messes, too.”

Feeling as if I were trapped in a nightmare and that

I would wake up soon, I stood and plodded out the
door, having no idea where to find anything to blot
up the coffee. I didn’t even know where the
restrooms were in the building. I didn’t know
anyone’s names other than his. I knew absolutely
nothing about the business or how it was run.

My own father had busted me to the rank of those
two idiots following him around with a notepad,
scribbling as if their lives depended on his every
word.

Opening the door, wrapped in a sense of unreality, I
understood that my life, as I had always known it,
had been successfully obliterated.

Emily

ithin a week of me filing my complaint
against the guy on the motorcycle, I was
called back to the police station. For some
reason, which was not explained to me
even though I asked, Mr. Rochester of
Rochester Industries had left me a check
for the cost of my laptop. The amount was

actually quite more than the cost of a new one. I
called him to thank him. I had left a message but
had not received a return call. Seeing as how he
was the founder of Rochester Industries, I didn’t
quite expect a call-back.

I called my father immediately about the check. He
was as confused as I had been. I didn’t have much
of a choice other than to cash the check two days
later and purchase a replacement computer, though.
My project was soon due, and I needed the
computer to finish it. At my father’s house later
that afternoon, I showed him the replacement. I had
bought a slightly upgraded computer as the model

of my old one was not sold anymore.

As he fired it up and looked through it, I said, “I’ll
work a few extra shifts and replace the money. I
feel like I should pay him back. I don’t even know
the man.”

“I don’t know why he would have done it either,
Em. Honestly, I’m at a complete loss. I’ll ask him
first chance I get. He comes to the warehouse a
couple times a week just to check in on everything
and I get plenty of facetime with him.” He smiled
and shut down the computer. “Let’s go grab
something to eat before we go to work. What do
you say?”

“Great! I’m paying, though.” I still had the money
left over from the check, and since I was planning
on paying it back in full, I didn’t feel any
compunction about splurging on my dad. If anyone
in the world deserved it, it was my dad.

“No, I couldn’t let you pay for my food, honey.”
He began to argue.

Holding up my hand to stop him, I said, “Nope. No
arguments, Dad. I’m paying. You’ve paid for
thousands of my meals. The least you could do is
let me buy yours once in a while without arguing.” I
smiled at him and gave him puppy-dog eyes.

Laughing, he embraced me. “All right. You know, I
never could get past the puppy eyes. I never was as

strong as your mother when it came to that.”

Planting a kiss on his cheek, I reminded him,
“Fathers aren’t supposed to be able to withstand
the all-powerful puppy eyes of their daughters.
What kind of world would we live in if that didn’t
work on our fathers?” I gave a mock shiver as if to
say it would be terrible.

He laughed again. “You’re right. You’re absolutely
right.”

We took a late lunch at his favorite diner. It was my
favorite, too. Fritzi’s had been around forever. The
same gnarly, good-natured cook ran the place as
when I was a kid. There were never many people
there, and that’s just how we liked it. It was small,
homey was the word my mother had always used,
and nothing had changed over the years.

Our favorite dessert in the world was the double
cherry-nut sundaes made with one-hundred-percent
real ice cream. None of that frozen yogurt or
powder-mix, ice cream flavored gloop for Fritzi’s
customers.

Over dessert, I noted the sadness deep in Daddy’s
eyes. He tried to hide his immense loneliness and
sadness from me, but I could see it plainly. He and
my mother had been sweethearts since elementary
school. They had married days after high school
graduation and had held off on having me until they

had both gone through college. He hadn’t only lost
the love of his life and his wife; he had lost a
lifelong friend. They had grown up together, always
sweet on one another.

Although the cancer had taken her almost two
years ago, it still seemed wrong to sit across from
Daddy and only see him. Sometimes, I tried to
pretend like Mama was just gone to the salon, or
perhaps had only gone to the restroom as Daddy
and I took meals at Fritzi’s. Living in a fantasy
world wasn’t good for anyone, though, and I knew
that.

“You know, she would have been proud of you,
Daddy.” I kept my eyes on my sundae. I couldn’t
face the acute sadness in his eyes.

He placed a hand over mine on the table. His hands
were rough from years of hard work. I was happy
that he had made manager at the warehouse and
didn’t have as much manual labor to do, but it was
plain that my father had done his share of hard
work over the years. I looked up at him. The little
crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes had deepened
drastically over the past three or four years, his
cheeks were not as hollow as they had been upon
Mama’s death, and the dark circles had nearly
faded away, too, but the sadness was there. It
caused my heart to sink a bit. Maybe I shouldn’t
have brought her up, I thought sadly.

He squeezed my hand, giving me his patented quiet,
peaceful smile. “She would have been doubly
proud of you, honey.” Tears welled in his eyes and I
felt my own eyes stinging with the first hint of
tears.

Sucking in a deep breath, I swiped at my eyes and
forced a broad smile. Time to change the mood, I
thought. “Nobody is going to be proud of me if I
flunk class because I don’t finish my project in
time.” I injected more happiness into my tone than
necessary and, even though it came out sounding
very fake, my father forced a lighthearted chuckle
that I knew he wasn’t feeling.

“Well, we can’t have that now. You should be able
to finish with that schnazzy new computer of yours,
though. Right? If you need to drop some shifts,
remember, it’s all right. You can make them up
some other time when you’re not so busy with
school.” He shook a finger at me. “Remember,
school first. I’ll pay for everything you need and
most of what you want, if you just let me know. I’d
much rather do that and have you doing well in
school than working out at the warehouse with me,
Em.”

“I’m doing fine, Daddy. Really. I was only joking,
anyway. I don’t need to drop any shifts.” I grinned
at him. “And I don’t need my Daddy to pay for
things I simply want. I’m not some spoiled brat;

you and Mama raised me better than that.”

Relaxing, he laughed a bit. “You definitely have
your mother’s sense of independence. She was as
stubborn about it as you are.”

“Well, from what I can tell, I might have gotten a
double dose of that.” I raised my eyebrows and
nodded to him. “You’re a teensy bit stubborn and
independent too, there, Daddy-O.”

With the mood turned around, we headed off to the
warehouse.

An hour into my shift, with the new computer and
the motorcycle incident well out of my mind, I
looked up and was shocked to my core to see the
man who had nearly run over me standing in front
of my father, conversing calmly with him.

Immediately, I was angry.

Walking toward him, we made eye contact. He
looked about as happy as I’m sure I did. My father
looked around as I approached, confusion on his
face.

Before I could open my mouth, the guy sneered.
“You! Don’t tell me you work here.”

Hands on hips, I glowered at him. “Well, guess
what? I do work here! Are you here looking for
work? Someone who lives as irresponsibly as you?”
I scoffed.

“Looking for work? No. I do work here, lady. And
do you know why I’m having to pull shifts at this
lousy place five nights a week?”

“To pay for Uber fare because you obviously can’t
operate a motorcycle?”

He stepped forward, glaring. “No, because you
went to the police over something that was your
own fault. Because you ran whining and crying
about your precious broken computer. I bet it was
broken before you tripped and fell on it, wasn’t it?
You just wanted a new one and saw your
opportunity to get one.”

“That accident was not my fault, and you know it.
If you had paid for the computer, or just offered to
pay for it, I wouldn’t have had to go to the police.”
I was nearly screaming. He seemed to just have that
effect on me. Both times I had been near him, I had
resorted to screaming in anger.

Laughing, he threw up his hands. “Still unthankful
that I even stopped to make sure you were okay.
Now that I see where you work, no wonder you

tried to get a free computer out of me. Thanks for
messing up my entire life over your own
clumsiness!”

“Messing up your life? You nearly ended mine, you
spoiled, ungrateful…brat!” I clenched my hands
into fists at my sides. The guy was so infuriating
that I desperately wanted to pummel him. I had to
think of my future as a surgeon, though. I couldn’t
afford to damage my hands, or the rest of me, on
someone as juvenile and irresponsible as that man.

My father put a hand on my shoulder. “Whoa!
Whoa! Whoa! Come on here. What’s this all about,
kids?” He looked wide-eyed between the two of us.

I pointed at the man. “That’s the idiot that nearly
ran me over. He’s the one who caused me to break
my laptop.”

Daddy looked at the man, his mouth slightly open.
“Is that true, Dylan?”

The man, obviously named Dylan, shrugged and
scoffed. “I still say it was her fault, sir. She’s the
one who practically jumped out into my lane. She’s
lucky I swerved in time to miss her. If there’d been
other traffic—”

I butted in. “If there’d been other traffic, you’d be
dead. You were on the wrong side of the road, and
you ran a red light as you whizzed past me and then
you did a U-turn and came back acting like you

were all concerned until I called you out on all of it.
Then you were just a brat and talked to me like…
like…”

“Like you were crazy. Which I thought you were
the way you brandished that computer at me as if
you were gonna start swinging it at my head!”

Daddy tried to restrain me again, but I shrugged his
hand from my shoulder and advanced on the man
another step. I yelled, “Maybe I should have. I’m
sure it wouldn’t have hurt that cinderblock you call
a head! And my laptop would have been broken for
a good reason!”

Daddy stepped between us then. “All right! That’s
enough.” He turned to Dylan, holding up a hand to
shut him up before he got started again. “That’s
enough, you two.” He turned to me. “What’s done
is done, Em. Let it go.” Seeing my astonished
expression, he added, “Trust me, honey. Let. It.
Go.” He turned to Dylan. “You might as well let it
go, too, because you two are going to be seeing a
lot of each other. You’re both working here with me
in the same department, five nights a week for you,
Dylan, four for her.”

Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Dylan
looked toward the thirty-foot high ceiling. “You
have got to be kidding me!” He looked back to
Daddy. “Come on man, do me a solid, put me in

another department. This is the chick who caused
all this. She’s why my father’s making me work
here and in the office. Come on.” He looked
pleadingly at Daddy.

He looked far too old for his father to be making
him work anywhere. I seriously doubted he was in
college to be indebted to his father, too.

Daddy shook his head and tapped the paper on the
clipboard. “Sorry, Dylan. No can do. Your father
gave me explicit orders to keep you right here and
to keep an eye on your progress. If you miss a shift,
I’m supposed to report it to him the following
morning when he gets in his office.” He grinned
and shook his head. “You know, I wondered why
your father was setting such strict rules for his only
son. Now I know.” He turned to me. “Emily, I
would like for you to meet Dylan Rochester. Dylan,
my daughter, Emily Shandon. Shake hands and play
nice, you two. Seriously. I don’t want to have any
conflicts here.” He raised an eyebrow at Dylan. “I
don’t want to have to report to your father that
you’ve been fighting with Emily while you’re
supposed to be working, either.”

Dylan shoved his hand toward me, but I refused to
shake with him as it sank in exactly who he was.

“You gonna shake, or just stand there looking
mean?” He rolled his eyes at me.

“Oh, my god!” I turned to Daddy. “Well, at least
that explains why Mr. Rochester left a check for
the price of a replacement computer.” I turned back
to Dylan, looked scathingly at his outstretched hand
and shook my head before crossing my arms over
my chest.

“Really? It took you that long to figure out who I
am?” He chortled. “And, she’s not just slow on her
feet, she’s slow in the head, too.” He withdrew his
hand and turned away.

“At least I’m not a spoiled brat who so painfully
and obviously lives on her father’s hard-earned
money, so I think I’m a few steps ahead of you,
pal.” I spun on my heel to head in the opposite
direction.

“At least I know not to play in traffic,” He yelled
over his shoulder without turning around.

“Maybe you should take a refresher class on rules
of the road!” I kept walking even though Daddy
tried to stop me. My insides quivered with anger. I
was going to have to walk it off or risk falling even
farther to Dylan’s level.

Dylan turned and yelled, “Maybe we should both
go; I hear they can teach stubborn, slow learners
like you, too.”

“Oh!” I spun, but Daddy was blocking my way.

He held a finger up in front of me. “Emily! Stop it.
It’s no use. That is Mr. Rochester’s son and you are
going to be working with him indefinitely. If this is
going to be a problem, you could always allow me
to—”

“No! I’m not going to let a spoiled…punk like him
run me off my job, Daddy.” I took a deep breath,
immediately regretting raising my voice to my
father. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but no. I’ll be fine. Are
you sure you can’t put one of us in a different
department, though?”

“No, honey. And you don’t need to be doing any of
the manual labor anyway. We have to think of your
future. You’re not going to be slaving away in some
warehouse for the rest of your life. I’m not going to
risk an accident ruining your hands.”

Nodding, I thanked him and apologized again for
the whole scene. If Dylan couldn’t be the adult in
the situation, I should have been. I resolved at that
very moment to refrain from getting into any more
childish arguments with him. Daddy was right. The
incident was in the past, and it had all been made
right by Dylan’s father.

Now, all I had to do was keep from getting into any
more spats with the boss’s son.

Dylan

t first, I seriously wished she would just do
something stupid and get fired. She was
irritating at best. At worst, she infuriated
me. I had no choice but to continue
working with her, though. My stubborn
father refused to let me work in another
department, saying it would be a good,

character-building situation for me. I asked him
what kind of character he hoped it would build,
because I could think of no good reason for being
subjected to Emily daily. His answer was to shake
his head in disappointment and wave me toward the
door of his office. Conversation over. There was no
getting out of my punishment.

I’m not going to lie. That first week was pure hell,
and I was furious at everybody for having to work
with Emily. I thought that if she had only kept her
mouth shut, none of it would have been happening.
I would have been living my posh, pampered, rich
kid life, and she would have been going about her

normal schedule, and we wouldn’t have met.

Emily and I were forced to take our lunch breaks
together. After a week of this, I began to see her in
a different light. No matter how hard I tried, I could
find no flaw in her work. I had thought her father
was showing her favor just because she was his
daughter, but I had been wrong. She was just that
good at her job.

By the end of lunch on Friday, I had noted that
Emily was more than just pretty. She was radiant
and sexy without even trying. After the break, I
goofed up on my job several times and she had to
come help me straighten up the mess every time.
And, still her work was perfect. How could she
keep her work perfect even when she was helping
me with my work? I was truly amazed at how adept
and down-to-earth she was. Working closely with
her father, I could see where she got it, though. He
was the same way.

The second week wasn’t as trying as the first. I had
learned my job well enough that I didn’t make as
many mistakes and had to ask for less help. Emily
really tried to be nicer that second week, too. I
couldn’t tell if it was just because she was afraid of
losing her job and jeopardizing her father’s as well,
or if she genuinely wanted to put the past behind us
and move on.

We walked to the employee breakroom together in
silence. She had to walk past me to get there, so, it
wasn’t like she was making an out-of-the-way
effort to walk with me or anything, but I thought it
was nice not to have to walk there alone.

The breakroom was at the back of the warehouse,
which was quite a long walk. We had an hour for
lunch. That first week, I couldn’t get used to eating
anything so late in the evening; my body had been
used to subsisting on alcohol from five in the
evening until early the next morning for years. The
second week, however, I brought my first meal
from home. That was a totally new concept for me.
Emily always brought a sandwich or soup, or
something else small for her meal. I had made fun
of it to start with, but I soon realized that it was the
only way to eat lunch on the job. The cars were too
far away, as were any restaurants, to be able to eat
during that one-hour slot.

We walked into the room and sat across from each
other at the table. She brought out her half a six-
inch sub sandwich and her little plastic bowl of
soup. She popped the soup bowl into the
microwave and waited for it to warm. I set out my
ham sandwich—I had even put it in a plastic
sandwich bag as I had seen hers were in similar
bags. I had absolutely no experience in packing a
lunch, so, that first meal wasn’t great.

She sat and started on her soup, eyeing my
sandwich suspiciously as I fought with the soggy,
dripping mess. Finally, she giggled and pushed her
sandwich toward me.

“Here. Why don’t you have this. The soup is plenty
for me.” She opened her bag and slid a plastic
container toward me, too. “There are the veggies
for it, if you want them.” She grinned wide.

Looking between her offering and my own meal,
my gut rumbled loudly. It had been a long time
since I had actually felt hunger pangs. My pride got
the better of me.

“No, you keep it. This is…” half the bottom bread
of my sandwich plopped to the table. “…fine,” I
finished, disgustedly.

She outright laughed and covered her mouth
quickly, shaking her head and pushing the sandwich
closer to me. Through giggles, she said, “Seriously,
stop with that train wreck. It’s just sad. Let that
sandwich die in peace and have this one.”

I looked at mine and then at hers, so pristine in its
plastic bag, so inviting with the crisp, chilled lettuce
and the pretty slices of tomato on the side.
Stubbornly, more to show her that it was still a good
sandwich, just not as pretty as hers, I took a bite of
mine and mayonnaise, thinned down by the juice
from the tomato, ran down my chin, and another

clump of soggy bread broke off and landed on top
of the first.

That really set her laughing; it was contagious. I
laughed too, even though I felt like a toddler with
food on my face. She had no idea how bright her
eyes turned when she laughed, or how her face
could light up anyone’s heart when it was filled
with joy. Hell, until then, I hadn’t really noticed it
either. After seeing it close up, though, I can tell
you in all honesty that I wanted to see it more
often.

“Fine.” I dropped my mess into the trashcan and
pulled her sandwich toward me. “I swear it didn’t
look that bad when I fixed it today.”

“It was the tomato. They’ll do it almost every time
if you put them on the sandwich. Leave them
separate.” She tapped the side of the veggie
container. “Like that.”

And that’s all it took to set us on our first hour-long
conversation about something other than work.

On the walk back to our stations, we chatted easily
about different foods we liked and laughed about
ones we thought were gross. I thought about her the
rest of the night.

Emily worked hard, but she seemed to enjoy her
life. She was going to college, working in the
warehouse, and had very little free time. She was a

mystery to me. If I had to accomplish all that on a
daily, I would have been crazy by the end of the
first month. Just being out of my usual lifestyle for
a week had worn me down.

Her close relationship with her father was a
constant reminder that me and my father mixed like
oil and water. For the first time ever, I felt bad for
not trying harder with my own dad. Still, I had no
idea how to repair the relationship that had been so
damaged for so long.

She impressed me with her computer and
technological knowledge nearly every day. It didn’t
matter what problems arose in the system she could
handle it within a few minutes. She gave all the
credit to her father, though, stating that he had
taught her everything she knew about the system.

Watching her work, her concentration strictly on
the computer in front of her as she bent at the waist
to type commands, I was rewarded with a good
view of her from head to toe. Let me tell you, it
was tempting to comment on her body at that point.
I didn’t, however. I kept reminding myself that she
was the enemy. She had caused all this trouble for
me. As the second week wore on, though, I started
to let that old crap go.

I knew whose fault the accident had been. I knew
she wasn’t at fault. With the alcohol and other

substances finally clearing out of my body, I was
ready to face what I had done more and more each
day. I couldn’t let it completely go just yet, but I
was working on it.

Emily

ylan was handsome. There was no
denying that. The first week I had to work
with him, I seriously thought I was going
to pull my hair out. He was so frustrating.
It was like babysitting a toddler with a
bad temper. Every time something didn’t
go right, or god forbid, he messed

something up, I had to go fix it. I could have let my
father, but he was having enough trouble at the
backend of the warehouse, where a sorting machine
had failed, and the work was being done by hand.
In good conscience, I couldn’t call him back up
front every time something went wrong with

Dylan’s end of the work.

I was just thankful that his job wasn’t too
physically demanding, or I would have been
exhausted the entire week.

I didn’t know what cologne he wore, but it smelled
delicious. I had a hard time concentrating around
him sometimes. His chiseled jawline, piercing green
eyes, and beautifully cut, mid-length black hair
were only complemented by the smell of his
cologne, which I was certain was far too expensive
for my blood.

I had to keep reminding myself of how much
trouble he had caused me. I did that to keep from
dwelling on how sexy he was. The only time I
thought he looked less than sexy was when he was
in the throes of a temper tantrum. And, boy-o,
could he throw a tantrum.

I marveled at how differently we viewed the world
and our places in it. He was a rich, spoiled,
privileged guy who had entitlement issues. I
preferred being thankful for every day and every
opportunity to spread goodness, kindness, and even
cheer.

And yes, this eventually bled over into my
interactions with the big boss’ little boy.

By the second week, I had grown accustomed to
his outbursts and reluctance to ask for help and I

kept a closer eye on him and his work. Maybe it
was only because of work, but I suspect I didn’t
mind staring at him all that much.

I began to experience odd flutterings in my gut
every time I had to be near him. And, if he
accidentally caught me staring at him, my face
heated up and my stomach knotted.

By week three, we had formed some sort of weird
bond and took lunch together, chatting easily,
almost as if we were old friends. He seemed more
comfortable in his job, and he made less mistakes. I
hardly had to go to his rescue at all during the third
week.

My father voiced his thankfulness that we were
finally getting along. He would always give me a
grin with a twinkle in his eyes when he mentioned
me and Dylan getting along. I ignored it entirely.
Whatever he was thinking, it was surely wrong.
Besides, Dylan would never be interested in
someone like me. I didn’t have money to burn; I
knew nothing of the celebrity party scene; and I
definitely never drank alcohol to excess. I couldn’t
afford to. I had my schoolwork to think of, and my
career to prepare for.

He chuckled when I told him things like that. Not
like he was being mean or making fun of me, he
just thought it was cute that I was already making

habits that I thought would carry me through into a
career that was still years away. He said he had
enough trouble planning one day at a time, let alone
years ahead.

Sadly, I had no trouble believing that. It was
obvious that he had never had to work. It was
obvious from the stories he sometimes told that he
knew little of the real world, he plainly preferred
the fantasy life he had been living before.

I almost felt sorry for him. It seemed as if all his
relationships had been superficial and shallow as a
puddle of rain in the parking lot. I didn’t pry even
though I desperately wanted to some days. If he
wanted me to know more about him, he would
initiate that conversation.

Once in a while, his new persona would crack, and
I would get a glimpse of the spoiled, hateful man
who had thrown insults at me on the street just
before climbing back on his motorcycle and
speeding away.

Those moments grew rarer as the month wore on,
and I was left trying to remember why I had
despised him so badly in the first place. I mean,
everybody makes mistakes. You can’t hold one
mistake against somebody forever. If you did,
you’d be miserable, I suspect.

The worst I could say about Dylan at the end of the

first month was that he could still be a trifle lazy. I
blamed that on his spoiled upbringing, though it still
irritated me on some days. He would have his
phone out, doing whatever it was he did on there,
and let his work pile up. That kinda drove me crazy,
but he always seemed to get caught up with little
trouble.

Me? I can’t work that way. Always, I strive to keep
my workload at an even pace throughout the shift.
As close to even as I can manage, given the nature
of the business, anyway.

I was still unsure if he genuinely liked me, or if it
was all an air to keep his father out of the picture.
My dad hadn’t given me details about the situation,
but he had told me that to keep from losing his
access to his father’s money, Dylan had to train at
the family company, learning it from the bottom-up.
His father had also said that Dylan must comply
with company policies at every point, and he had to
get along with the other employees, or there would
be even more restrictions put on him.

Therefore, I proceeded cautiously as Dylan and I
seemed to form a tenuous friendship throughout the
first month. I enjoyed his company, and he had
started being nice, even gentlemanly toward me.

Time would tell if he was being genuine.

Dylan

o you have any idea how much someone’s
life can change in six weeks? I didn’t
either. Had anyone told me that I would
stop drinking and partying—and wouldn’t
even miss it—in the span of six weeks, I
would have told that person they were
absolutely insane.

But my life did change. Drastically. Not only did I
not miss the partying and drinking and taking
expensive trips with my celebrity pals, I was also
working a full-time job at the warehouse and doing
a few hours’ work every morning in the office. I
didn’t even mind tagging along with Evan to learn
new duties.

Not to mention that most of my so-called friends,
you know the models, actors, actresses, musicians,
and the plain old too rich for their own good
people, were not easy to find once I cancelled
parties and refused a couple invitations on the

grounds that I had to work. They disappeared just
like fog at sunrise, slow at first, and then whoosh,
gone entirely.

I didn’t really miss many of them. Hell, I couldn’t
even remember most of their names. Faces in a
crowd, one melting into the other from whatever
drugs or booze I had been on at the time mixed
with a lack of sleep and proper nutrition. I had been
a literal train wreck. The last several years of my
life were akin to that soggy sandwich I tried to eat
the second week on the warehouse job. It just lost
all its appeal and fell away chunk by sloppy chunk
until I was left with a pretty empty slate for the
future.

I had more energy, the dark circles disappeared
from under my eyes, and there were days when I
was happy for no reason at all. There was no drama
—as comes standard with the group I was hanging
around with. And, at night, after my shift ended, I
went home and could simply relax and unwind.

I might mention here, that the beach party pad was
not the house I went to. After my third week
working, I took up residence in a much smaller
house closer to the city and work. It was actually
the first house I lived in alone, so as you can
imagine, it was quite different from the beach
house. But I liked it. When I moved out, the house
was still in my father’s name, and I swore I would

never return to it for any reason. At the time, I saw
no reason that could make me want to move back
there. Alas, that is where I went.

I’m sure the irony of my going back to the smaller
house was not lost upon my father, but he didn’t
comment about it. Instead, he handed me the keys,
smiling, and patted me on the shoulder. “Good to
see you’re making some wise changes in your life,
son. It’s about time.” And he walked away.

That wasn’t really a verbal pat on the back, I took
it as he was being snide. I bit my tongue to cut off a
hot retort, knowing that no matter why he had said
it the way he had, he had been right. It had been
about time for me to straighten up my life.

That night at work, I told Emily about moving
houses and leaving behind the oceanside party pad.
She seemed happy, but then she always seemed
happy when we talked. I never noticed her being
down and out about anything. Still, I couldn’t figure
what she had to be so damn happy about. I mean,
she didn’t have loads of money, and she worked
either at the warehouse or on her schoolwork
constantly. I couldn’t see how any of that could
make someone happy.

Maybe her attitude had worn off on me. That
would explain why I was happy sometimes for
absolutely no reason.

I looked forward to my evening shift job so I could
see her. We talked a lot during our mid-shift break.
She sometimes goaded me about the meals I
brought from home; I’m not very good in the
kitchen, so my meals didn’t always look the best.

Emily, on the other hand, was excellent in the
kitchen. We had started sharing meals she brought.
I can’t recall what actually started the tradition, but
I did enjoy it. She brought the meals happily, and
she was proud that she had prepared them. After a
few times of this, I offered to return the favor, to
which she replied that I should just bring snacks. I
laughed, recalling the few things I had brought that
were outright terrible.

“That hurt my feelings, Emily.” I feigned the hurt
expression.

“No, it didn’t. I heard you breathe a sigh of relief
when I said snacks only.” She laughed and tossed a
cheese puff at me playfully.

“You’re right. I did.”

Giving me a quizzical look, she asked, “So, didn’t
your mom ever teach you how to cook anything?”

I’m sure that she asked just out of curiosity, which
was something she didn’t do very often, but it hit a
nerve. I thought about my answer for a moment; it
was long enough that she became uncomfortable.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, god. I’m sorry, Dylan. Just
ignore my big old nose. I didn’t mean to stick it in
your personal business.”

Her cheeks flushed prettily, and I shook my head,
grinning. “You don’t have a big old nose. I think
you have a perfect little button nose that’s just the
perfect size.”

Her jaw dropped and she gawked at me for a
moment, a chip poised in the air as she paused
bringing it to her mouth. She blinked once, her face
flamed a deep red, and she cleared her throat as she
looked down at the table.

“My mom left us when I was thirteen. I was just
trying to think how to whitewash it, but there it is.
She left, and no, she never taught me to cook
anything other than hot cocoa and cookies.” I tried
to chuckle, but it stuck in my throat and I ended up
looking away. I had never told anyone about that
before. My celeb friends wouldn’t have given two
hoots about it either way and any show of concern
would likely have been fake anyway.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. Really.” She
dropped her chip and dusted her fingers off.
“That’s terrible and I’m sorry I made you have to
think about it.” She seemed uncomfortable and
embarrassed.

I tried to save the situation as a cloud fell over her

usually cheery face. “No, no. It’s all right. It’s in
the past.” I put my hand over hers to keep her from
running away from the table. “And, it felt pretty
good to actually say it out loud to someone.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’ve never told anyone
that your mother left?”

I shook my head. “I didn’t have anyone to tell
about it. I mean, my father and I rarely ever talked
about it. I don’t think he could; he was devastated.”

“What about all your friends?” She sounded truly
mystified.

Chuckling wryly, I shook my head. “I’ve learned
over the past few weeks that I really didn’t have
any friends. They’ve all vanished, it seems.” I
looked away and mumbled, “Probably for the best,
anyway.”

“That had to be hard on you at such a young age.
I’m really sorry you had to go through that. And
your dad, too.” Her eyes were full of sympathy.

I studied her for a moment. The genuine emotion
from her moved me, and before I knew it, I was
spilling my guts about something I thought I had
gotten over years before.

“It was. It was awful. At first, I tried to go see her
often. That was a mess. It seemed that every time
we got near each other, an argument broke out.

They all ended the same. I would scream terrible
things, accusations, threats, whatever mean-hearted
thing I could think of that would hurt her the most,
and she ended up a sobbing lump in her chair. I
hated her for a long time. Now, though…I’m not so
sure how I feel about her. I do know one thing; I
regret talking to her so badly. But I don’t know
where to even start repairing such a broken
relationship.”

A tear glistened at the corner of her eye. “There’s
always time to start reaching out, to start trying to
repair it, Dylan. You’ll only regret it for the rest of
your life, if you don’t do something now.” She
swiped at the corner of her eye as if it were itching,
and successfully wiped away the tear. “I miss my
mother every day. Yours is still alive, you still have
time to talk to her, fix things with her, and learn to
love each other.”

That time, the tear didn’t just glisten in the corner
of her eye. It rolled down her cheek and she self-
consciously wiped it away and started clearing her
lunch away.

Shocked to my core, it was my turn to gawk wide-
eyed at her. Quickly, I composed myself. “I’m
sorry. I had no idea. You must think I’m a horrible
person.” I tossed my trash in the bin. “Maybe I am.
No one should treat their mother the way I have.”
And I was a bit angry at myself over it. I had been

for years, but my stupid pride had kept me from
apologizing. After all, she was the one who left; in
my mind, she should apologize for striking first. Her
departure was what had caused the rift between us.
Her actions had been deliberate and conscious. My
actions were the reactions of a wounded, confused
teenager. Still, I was angry that I had been so
hateful to her and never apologized.

Emily sat and closed her bag, pushing it aside,
where it would remain until quitting time. “Thank
you. And, no, I don’t think you’re a horrible
person. I think you were a hot-headed, scared, hurt
teenage boy who didn’t understand why or how
your mother could just up and leave you like that.
Of course you would lash out—most teenagers
would. My relationship with my mother wasn’t
perfect.”

“Really?” I sorely wanted to hug her, bring her a bit
of comfort. I would have taken comfort from an
embrace, too, I won’t lie.

“No, of course it wasn’t. No relationship is. What
I’ve noticed, though, is that time slips by, life
returns to some semblance of normalcy, and in my
mind, our relationship has taken on a perfectness
that just didn’t exist. Not quite, anyway. I tried to
be a good daughter, and I was for the most part, but
teens and parents argue over silly things, trivial
things, sometimes. And, sometimes, they argue over

big things like dating, car use, curfews, parties.”
She chuckled and another tear ran down her cheek.
She swiped it away with the back of her hand.

Sniffling, she smiled brightly at me. “In the end, it’s
all-important that you show her how you feel
before it’s too late. My mother knew how much I
loved and respected her even though we didn’t
always see eye to eye. She was proud that I chose
to become a surgeon. She lit up like a Christmas
Tree when I told her.” Her smile broadened
naturally, and her gaze drifted somewhere between
the present and past.

Emily was outright gorgeous. She took my breath in
that moment. “I didn’t know you were going to be
a surgeon. That’s quite an aspiration.”

She nodded and pulled her attention back to the
present. “Yes. It’s a lot of hard work, but I firmly
believe you either have a set goal to work towards,
or you will spend your life drifting meaninglessly.”

“Ooh, that sounds deeply profound. I don’t think
I’m equipped to process anything more profound
than getting through my day here.” I laughed and
stood. It was time to go back to work.

She joined me. “I’m a deeply profound philosophic
kind of girl, didn’t you know?”

Feigning seriousness, I shook my head. “Nope. I
thought you were just a pretty face with no brains

at all.”

She swatted my arm playfully but still hard enough
to sting a bit. I didn’t mind. I could still feel the
tingle where her hand made contact an hour later as
I sat staring at her from the window of my station.
She moved so gracefully; it was like watching a
prima ballerina as she moved between tables and
around machines, turning knobs, typing commands,
and answering the phone.

My feelings toward Emily shifted that night. We
had made a profound connection. I wasn’t sure
what it was, but it was there. Whether it was the
subject of our mothers, or something deeper
spawned by our opening up to each other, showing
our vulnerabilities, it was definitely there, and I felt
it with every fiber of my being. I had never felt like
that with another person.

But that was something I would keep to myself. No
need having her think I was being a creep, or a
weirdo by giving voice to some strange feeling I
had developed for her that she might not share.

Emily

was quite shocked at how easily I talked to
Dylan about my mother. That was a touchy
subject at best. He talked frankly about his
mother, too. Maybe that’s what caused me to
just spill about my own mom. I left the
breakroom confused but happy and feeling
lighter somehow.

For the first time, I could honestly say that I was
happy that Dylan’s father had placed him in the
warehouse. We were becoming friends, and to be
honest, I felt a little more than friendly toward that
sexy hunk of man on more than one occasion.
Keeping that to myself while still trying to feed out
enough subtle hints to see if he took the bait was
very stressful for me. I had never played the game
before. Really, I had just never been good at it.

On our last break, I couldn’t help bringing up the
subject of his mom. I felt that something had to be
done, and someone needed to push him in the right

direction. That person wasn’t going to be his father.
I understood that, too, though. Who knew what
kind of bad blood there was between them? His
father had been devastated and that likely meant he
had built up a thick wall between himself and the
cozy feelings he once had for his ex-wife.

That left me to push Dylan. He said he had no
friends, so it had to be me. I couldn’t sit by with the
new knowledge, and my own experience losing my
mother, and not push him to mend things with her.

We were the only two in the breakroom again.
Most of the other employees took their breaks at
the back, near the delivery truck bays to save time
and walking. This was going to be a fifteen-minute
break, so I had to hurry.

He sat with a great heaving sigh, as if he had been
hard at work all evening, which made me laugh. He
kicked his feet up into an empty chair, which
bothered me, but it didn’t seem to ever bother
anyone else, so I let it go.

“So, not to bring up a bad subject, but you really
should try to go see your mom, Dylan. Do you
know where she lives now?”

“Oh, yeah. I know, all right. But I don’t know why
I could even pretend to be going that wouldn’t start
another argument. It’s best just to let things be
sometimes.” He offered me one of his chocolate

bars; I declined.

“Why make up a reason? Just tell her you want to
come talk to her, that you would like to work on
getting to know one another again.”

He pulled his feet out of the chair with a groan and
turned to me. “If that was the case, couldn’t I just
do that over the phone? I mean, that’s kinda why
they were invented…so you could talk to people.”
He grinned impishly.

“Don’t be that way. You know talking face to face
is way better, and more meaningful, than over the
phone. I’m serious. You should try to go see her.
Like, soon.” I reached over the table and poked his
forearm with the tip of my finger for emphasis.
And, just to touch him. I liked touching him even
though is sent shivers and butterflies through me.

“Well, what am I supposed to say to her after all
this time? It’s not like I’m the best at breaking the
ice, you know.” He raised his eyebrows at me and
took a bite of chocolate.

I had no idea where those calories went, but they
never touched his muscled figure, never put an
ounce on him that I could see. As a matter of fact,
since he’d started working with me, I had noticed
he had lost some weight and was toner, fitter than
before. It was hard to concentrate on the
conversation I had initiated with my brain veering

off to lust after him.

“Well…you could start with, ‘Hi, Mom’ I see
nothing wrong with that at all.” I grinned back at
him. I wondered what it would be like to be alone
with him, with his hands on me, his lips kissing me
—I broke the thought off and physically shook
myself to regain my composure.

He laughed. I didn’t. “Oh, you’re serious?”

I nodded. “As a heart attack. You have to start
somewhere.”

“All right. You win. I’ll take it into consideration
that I should try to start a relationship with my
mother again.” He laughed and opened the second
candy bar.

I cocked an eyebrow at him, showing my disbelief.

He held up both hands in mock surrender. “Oh my
god! All right. I’ll take it under serious
consideration.” He looked at me and chortled,
shaking his head. “Okay. Stop already. I’ll figure it
out. I promise.” He made an X over his heart.

“That’s much better. I’m going to hold you to it,
too,” I said in a serious, stern tone.

“Oh, I believe you will.”

By then, the break was over, and we headed back
to finish out the shift. I told him on the way back

that I wouldn’t be at work on Friday nights for a
while; I had to finish another project for school and
needed the extra time over the weekend to get it
done.

He acted as if he wasn’t happy about it, but he
understood. Again, I wasn’t sure if he was starting
to feel more serious about me or not. I hoped he
was, because I was definitely letting my feelings
run away with me. It was part lust and part true
feelings. I had my head on straight enough to know
that the two could become intermingled and feel
the same. That’s what led many young women into
believing they were in love, when in fact, it was
only hormones. It was only the body doing what it
does naturally. We’re programmed for such
behavior—it ensures the continuance of the human
race.

And right about then, I would have loved to put in
some practice runs with Dylan. Maybe that would
settle it for me. If it was merely lust, surely a romp
in the bed would clear up the mystery.

That’s how I dealt with my feelings toward him
while at work. At night, when I had turned out all
the lights, crawled under the covers to wait for
sleep, it wasn’t that easy. That’s when I was sure
that I was falling in love with him. I cared for him
deeply, anyway, even if it wasn’t love. Some nights,
I gave up on sleep and studied to keep my mind off

him and what he might or might not be doing at that
very moment. As the sun rose, I would drift off for
a few hours; usually just long enough to feel
horribly tired when the alarm started blaring.

In the daylight, though, I could get my feelings in
order and wrap them in a blanket of other things to
keep them hidden—especially from Dylan. I would
die if he ever found out how much I thought about
him. I was, for lack of a better word, obsessed with
him.

Every day, I forced myself to reevaluate my long-
term goals. Becoming a surgeon didn’t happen
overnight. It happened over years. Several years of
long hours of studying and even longer hours of
interning, being on-call, practicing. I couldn’t see a
place in those years where a boyfriend would fit in
easily. Relationships took a lot of work, and I
simply didn’t have the time.

That’s what I told myself every morning. Believe it
or not, it helped. It allowed me to keep my
emotions in check around Dylan.

My other reasoning was that if I let my guard down
and let him know how I felt, he could hurt me. I
also didn’t have time, or the willingness, to endure
heartbreak that could be prevented.

It’s amazing what you can talk yourself into under
the right set of circumstances.

My next evening at work, Dylan seemed happier
than usual. He was downright playful as we started
the shift. Even my father noticed. The look he gave
me about it made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know
why at the time.

On our lunch, he regaled me with stories about a
musician who everybody believed was such a jerk.
He was a newcomer to the scene and young, to
boot. His reputation preceded him everywhere—
the guy was a jerk and was just as likely to insult
you and walk away as to give you an autograph. It
didn’t matter to him that you’d just dropped a
hundred dollars or more to come see his show. He
actually lost a lot of fans for a while. But his music
was good, and within the year, his fanbase was
bigger than before.

“But the guy’s a real softie, I swear it. He’s shy as
hell around girls, too. He told me the bad attitude
was only an act. Since his music is heavy and
sometimes dark, he thought he should act that way
to make it all seem more like a way of life for him.
Record sales reflect his correctness in that
assumption, too.”

“That explains a lot about men, actually. Thank you
for that wonderfully enlightening story.” I waggled
my eyebrows at him, grinning.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, have you forgotten our first few meetings?” I
laughed but waited for his reply.

Dropping his head, he scoffed. “Nope, not yet, I
haven’t. But that’s not what I was doing.”

“Oh, really?” I laughed hard at his backpedaling.

“No! I don’t have a band or a dark on-stage
persona to advertise and build up.” He smirked.

“So, you’re telling me that you were just being a
jerk to be a jerk. Because you wanted to be a jerk?
Am I right?” I could barely hold back the laughter
and my eyes watered from it.

“No!” He groaned and threw his hands up,
laughing. “Whatever. I’m not arguing with you.
You win too often.”

We both cackled laughter, drawing my father’s
attention from the hallway. He stuck his head in the
doorway. “Everything all right in here?” His smile
was wary as he eyed us.

Giving him a thumbs up sign, I nodded. “Yep. I was
just in the process of winning another argument.”

Daddy grinned at Dylan. “She’s good at those, son.
I’d choose my battles very wisely with her, if I
were you.” He ducked back out of the room and
disappeared around a corner.

We laughed even harder.

“He probably thinks we’re nuts.” Dylan
straightened up and tried to stifle his laughter.

“No, he knows it by now. He hasn’t heard me
laughing like that since Mama got sick, I guess. It
probably just shocked him.”

Without warning, Dylan leaned farther onto his
elbows, put his hand over my forearm on the table
and looked deep into my eyes. His expression had
gone totally sober.

“Would you like to come over to the house tonight?
Or, maybe another night? We could watch a movie,
you could teach me to cook something, I don’t
know, whatever you want.” He looked hopeful.

Put on the spot, I stammered. Recalling the
morning ritual of wrapping up my feelings for him, I
sputtered and looked anywhere but at him.

He chuckled and let go of my arm. “Should I take
that as a yes?”

With my entire defense system down from all the
laughter, I nodded before I realized I meant to do
anything at all. Then I heard myself say, “That
would be great,” in a breathy voice.

But would it be great? Had I just sounded like a
teenage girl whose crush just noticed her for the
first time? Ugh! I was slightly disgusted with myself
and cleared my throat as I looked away and heat

rose to my face. Part of me was, of course, elated.
The other part of me, the sensible part, was
shocked at my own reaction to his invitation.

If he had any doubt about how you felt before, I
thought, he definitely doesn’t now.

“So, it’s a go for tonight? After work? You could
follow me there,” he stammered a moment and then
rushed on, “or I could take you and bring you back
for your car. I mean, eleven is a little late to be
driving roads you might not be familiar with.”

I shook my head, which was still spinning. “No, no.
I’ll follow you. It’ll be fine.”

“All right.” He breathed deeply and let out a long
breath, chuckling nervously.

I was glad I wasn’t the only one feeling a bit
anxious about what had just transpired between us.
Relaxing a bit, I smiled up at him, admiring his
handsome face that seemed chiseled to perfection.
The best part about his looks was that he was
mostly unaware of his good looks. If he was aware
of them, and their effect on me, he was good at
keeping it hidden. He could be a little vain
sometimes, but it was when he was being funny,
making a joke, not while he was being serious.
After hanging with celebs and models, I found that
amazing.

We went back to work, and I tried to avoid his eye

contact until quitting time. I didn’t want my father
to pick up on the fact that I was going to follow the
boss’ son home after work. He would worry and
would likely give me a fatherly lecture that I really
didn’t think was necessary.

Had Dylan asked me over to his place weeks prior,
I would have flat-out refused. I would have worried
about his intentions at that time, but not after
getting to know him. We had made some sort of
weird connection. It was especially pronounced
when we talked about our mothers.

It was an odd night at his house. I was nervous and
so was he. Admittedly, he handled the situation
with a bit more sophistication than I did, but I had
little experience with guys, and zero experience
with super-sexy, hot, rich guys like Dylan.

Surprisingly, he didn’t push me to have sex. That
had been my biggest cause for anxiety—I mean,
really ladies, you all know the stress of working a
shift and meeting your man right after without
having a chance to shower and change clothes.
Yeah. Not fun. Especially if you think he’s going to
want to jump in the sack, right?

We finally calmed down when he suggested a
movie. It was an old movie, black-and-white, a true
chick-flick kind of thing that I cannot recall the
name of. Truthfully, I wasn’t interested in the

movie, it simply gave me something to focus on
other than how nice the house was, how close
Dylan was sitting to me—I could feel the heat off
his thigh burning through my jeans; it was almost as
effective as if his hand had been caressing me—and
how far from my place I was. Not to mention the
back-of-my-mind worries like getting my next
project done and how much sleep I was going to
lose.

Dylan

as I nervous about inviting Emily to the
house? Hell, yes! Honestly, though, it was
getting lonely at the house. Remember, I
was accustomed to having people around
me all the time, and someone in my bed
most nights. Not that I missed those exact
people, but I did miss having people around

to talk to, I guess.

The only person I had found in my new lifestyle
that I really enjoyed talking to and being near was
Emily. I thought I was developing some stronger
feelings for her than mere friendship, too. So, it was
natural to want to ask her over and just sort of see
how things went from there.

After that first really, super-awkward night, we
became more at ease around each other. We
laughed easier at work, and we flirted a lot. That
was great. Ladies and gentlemen, I urge you to
keep in mind the power of flirting. From the strictly

innocent flirting that holds no real promise of
sexual fulfillment to the extreme flirting where each
party knows there will definitely, at some point in
the near future, be a sexual fulfillment, flirting
makes the world go ’round. It boosts your self-
image and self-awareness, and it definitely makes
the days, or nights go by faster. It also adds a bit of
intrigue to an otherwise dull situation—such as at
work. And it must be done appropriately for the
situation with both parties consenting to it, or it’s
called harassment. That’s something no one needs
or wants.

In our case, Emily and I were definitely on the
same page. We both loved to flirt. I would have
never guessed that about her from our first
encounter until it began happening. It was a natural
progression in our relationship.

She came to my place much more often than I went
to hers. That was fine with me. She seemed to
enjoy our time together. Sometimes we cooked
together—well, being honest, she cooked, and I
helped. She called me the sexiest sous chef in
California. Other times, we went for coffee or a
meal before work, a walk in the park, or watched a
movie together after work. It was turning into a
great time in my life.

Happier than I could ever remember being, I never
missed a chance to be with her. We weren’t having

sex, even though I wanted her so badly that it made
me crazy, but we were happy. I tried not to impinge
on her study-time. Becoming a surgeon was
something I was in awe about, and that she actually
took the time to be with me was amazing. I didn’t
want to do anything to jeopardize the newfound
and ever-deepening connection between us. I had
been around the block enough times to know that
sex will come naturally in a relationship. There was
no need to push her or make her uncomfortable just
to get laid.

One Saturday we spent the entire day together. We
had gone to the beach for a while and then went to
a park where there were fewer people. That
evening, I took her to dinner. Not at a fancy
restaurant, as per her request, it was a nice, quiet,
romantic little restaurant where the food was
delicious, service was excellent, and the price was
quite low. I would never have gone there on my
own. With the food being so cheap, I would have
expected much lower quality. It was a real eye-
opening experience for me, and Emily loved it.

That evening, as we sat watching an Avengers
movie, I found out what a total geek she was about
the superhero universe. And she found out what a
sap I was for old black and white movies. As she
laughed, her beauty tripled, and my heart clutched.
That wasn’t the only thing that was moved by her

sexiness, let me tell you.

I could take it no longer; I had to have my hands on
her and hers on me. The wine we had shared had
heated my blood as surely as it had relaxed her. I
leaned close and kissed her. She returned the kiss
with equal fervor. That only fanned the flames of
desire. Not wanting to scare her off, but still
wanting to completely ravage her, I held myself in
check. I let my hands roam slowly, giving her time
to stop me, if she wanted to.

Thankfully, it seemed that she was okay with it, and
I continued. Kneading her pliant, warm flesh
through her clothes was nothing compared to the
moment my hand slipped under her blouse to the
skin of her stomach. Everything in me seemed to
come to a halt. It had been forever since I had felt a
woman’s skin under my bare palm, it seemed.

We didn’t go all the way that night. I could feel that
she was still nervous about it, but I did my best to
give her a hint of all I would do for her if she ever
had the urge to let me.

With the make-out session at an end, I was
uncomfortably hard and tried to shift so it wasn’t so
noticeable, but there’s no hiding that, I guess.

As she was getting ready to call it a night, she
tiptoed and kissed me lightly on the lips. “Soon,
Dylan.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and

pressed her body against mine, kissing me again.

My arms slipped around her waist and I pulled her
tighter against me, relishing the feel of her. She
wriggled sexily against my erection, causing me to
moan. Then she stepped back, cheeks flushed, eyes
clear, lips moist. The picture of perfection. The low
lighting gave her an almost ethereal glow.

She smiled and bit her full lower lip between her
teeth as she let her gaze rove over me, slowing just
below my waist. My body reacted as if she had
physically touched me, and goose bumps washed
over me causing my fine hairs to stand up.

“I don’t want to rush it, Dylan; it’ll happen soon,
though.” She grinned and nibbled at her lower lip
again.

Nodding, I shoved a hand into my pocket and
reached for the door with the other. “That’s fine,
Em. Really, I’m in no hurry,” I lied.

She laughed and looked down at my hand shoved
into my pocket. “No, I can see that. It’s
very…obvious that you’re in no hurry whatsoever.”

“Ha! You are so funny. You laugh at my pain.” I
faked a hurt look.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be over around noon.
Okay?” She grinned with a mischievous glint in her
dark eyes.

“I’ll be right here. I might even have Chinese
takeout ready when you get here.”

Laughing, she bounced down the sidewalk to her
car, and I shut the door, groaning loudly at my
predicament. No woman had left me hanging like
that in years. Hell, most of the women in my life
had been just as eager to jump in bed with me as I
was with them. Honestly, though…I didn’t mind.
My body made it known that it did not like the new
experience, but there was always the next day.

If I didn’t read her wrong, the next day would put
an end to my physical misery.

Emily

knew the day had been coming for some
time. The sexual tension between us had
been building steadily over the last couple
weeks. When we made out on his couch, I
was so ready to strip and beg him to take me
that I was ashamed afterward. I didn’t realize
what a wanton little thing I had become. But

I had also had a few glasses of wine beforehand.

And that’s what stopped me.

Never did I want to ever have that old cliché to fall
back on. Oh, but I was drunk, and I didn’t know
what I was doing. Nope. When Dylan and I finally
had sex, I wanted both of us to be perfectly sober. I
wanted to be able to recall any and all details
afterward.

I had heard so many girls who talked about having
wild sex and not being able to remember any of it
—only the soreness the next day let them know
they must have had a good time and enjoyed it. I
thought that was super idiotic, and a bit disturbing,
for guys and girls. I mean, who wouldn’t want to
remember it later?

True to his word, Dylan had Chinese takeout ready
when I arrived the following day. I had hardly slept
at all. Throughout the previous night, I had dwelled
on how excited he had been before I left his house.

From what I could feel through his jeans, and that
was a lot, he was very well endowed. Not that it’s a
bad thing, but it does give a girl pause sometimes. I
imagine a lot more women have anxiety over the
possibility of pain than admit it. Hey, I don’t care a
bit to admit I was worried about it.

I wasn’t just thinking about the physical pain it
might cause me, I was thinking about the possibility
that if I let it show, it might ruin the whole thing for
both of us.

Even while we were eating, well, he was eating, I
was nibbling, every possible embarrassing scenario
in the universe played out in my head.

I needn’t have worried, though.

After lunch, Dylan kissed me. He pulled me close
so I could feel his erection against my lower belly. I
moaned against his lips, unable to stop myself. My
fingers were in his hair, pulling his mouth tighter
against mine. His tongue slipped between my lips,
and I was instantly wet with desire.

His hands were large, strong, and warm against my
flesh as he found my bra and expertly unhooked it.
With one hand, he squeezed my breast, with the
other, my ass. His kiss deepened.

I wanted him inside me; I wanted him to ravage me.
It was a side of myself I was just being introduced
to. Hello, wanton harlot, I’m Emily. How are you?

Apparently, she had no time for small talk. I pushed
his shirt up. Reluctantly, and swiftly, he leaned back
and yanked it over his head with one hand.
Hooking a finger into the waistband of his jeans, I
guided him toward the bedroom behind me, anxious
to unleash what I had been feeling hot and hard
against me.

At the foot of the bed, he held me at arms’ length,
staring into my soul with those jade eyes. After a
second, I leaned back toward him, wanting more of
his kisses, wanting his hands back on my skin, but
he stepped back. I started to protest.

He shook his head at me and snagged the bottom of
my shirt. Slowly, so excruciatingly slowly, he pulled
it up over my head and off my fingertips finally.
Then he hooked his thumbs under my bra straps
and pulled them off my shoulders in the same
fashion. Gooseflesh covered me and my nipples
stood out hard and erect. I know the effect was
caused by his intense stare, the way his gaze moved
over me, appreciating every curve, that sent the
chill over my skin.

He undid my jeans and then gently pushed me back
to the bed. Soon, I was naked in his sight.

Hovering over me, one hand on either side of my
head, his broad, muscled shoulders blocking the
light, he kissed me gentler than I had ever imagined

he would. The tenderness aroused me more, and
instinctively, my legs spread, welcoming him.

He stood, admiring my body as he took off his own
pants. Did he ache with longing as I did, I
wondered? He stood straight again. His body was
superb. His muscles were ripped into shape as if he
worked out a lot. His stomach was taut, and I could
see his six-pack abs. He didn’t look like Mr.
Olympia, but that was good, I didn’t like the over-
bulging muscles of workout freaks. I much
preferred a nice, toned, healthy body just like the
one I was looking at.

My eyes bulged, and there was a moment of fear as
I saw just how large his penis was. Then, he was
lying between my legs, his erection throbbing
against my crotch as he kissed and nibbled his way
from my navel to my breast. All thought, all worry,
all anxiety immediately vanished.

He nibbled at my earlobe, and I moaned and
writhed under him. I whispered, “Take me, Dylan.
Take me.”

He pulled back, looking down at me, the desire in
his eyes setting my insides to quivering. He crushed
my mouth under his next kiss and slid a hand under
my hips to lift me toward him. “There’s no turning
back from this point. Are you absolutely—”

I rocked my hips up and forward, feeling him

spread me and stopped. His moan was sexy and
enticing.

Nodding once, I said, “I’m sure.”

Afterward, we lay on our backs completely spent.
We both panted to catch our breath. His body,
covered in sweat, gleamed in the late afternoon
sunlight filtering through the beige sheers on the
window. It made it seem as if his skin glowed, as if
it were illuminated from within. I could imagine
that I had just made love to a god straight out of old
Greek mythology.

When we had both floated back to the bed, letting
reality sink in, we cuddled, and he flipped a sheet
over us. Fully satisfied—mentally and physically, I
was unable to stop smiling. With my head against
his chest, his steady, strong heartbeat lulled me to
sleep within a few minutes.

Dylan

aking the morning after with Emily in my
arms, and both of us still naked, was quite
possibly the best morning after I had ever
experienced. She had been all that I had
imagined in the bedroom; all that and more,
really. She quite literally took my breath
away.

And, it didn’t hurt my ego one little bit that she
achieved quite strong orgasms three times. I will
never forget that first night with her. Not ever. As I
watched her sleeping, curled toward me and with
her head on my chest, I was taken again by her
beauty, which seemed to have multiplied since the
day before.

My heart ached with love for her. Naturally, I
wouldn’t tell her that. Not so soon after making
love to her. She would likely think that I was only
saying it because we had sex. The sex only
compounded the feeling and drove it into my heart

with every beat.

The sheet lay against her naked body. The swell of
her hip, the dip of her waist, the swell of her
breasts…I traced her body over and over with my
eyes, getting more aroused by the second. When I
let my fingers slide down her body, her eyelids
fluttered open. I was certain I saw my feelings
mirrored there in those dark brown eyes.

It wasn’t long before we were making love again. It
was every bit as good as the night before. I coaxed
her into taking up position on top of me so I could
fully enjoy her beauty while I was inside her.

Instead of exhaustion afterward, we were both
invigorated. I believe it had more to do with our
budding love than anything else. I never wanted to
be away from her, and when she said it was time
for her to go home, it tore at me. She had her
studies to get back to, though.

“Will you come back tonight?” I asked hopefully. A
man just can’t get enough of that kind of love.

“I shouldn’t. I really have to study. You know I
have a big exam coming up next week.” She kissed
me and rolled to her side of the bed.

I watched her dress, already feeling the stirrings in
my crotch again. “I know. You’re right. Well, can
we get something to eat before work tomorrow,
then?”

“Sure.” She finished dressing and flopped back
onto the bed and propped on her elbow facing me.
Her fingers traced hot little circles on my chest.
“Or, we could meet here before work.” She grinned
mischievously and flicked her tongue over my
nipple playfully.

“Mmm. You keep that up and you can forget
studying tonight.” I pulled her hand to my
hardening crotch.

After a moment of caressing, she groaned and gave
me a little kiss. “In that case, I have to stop.” She
pushed away from me and got off the bed. “Save
that for tomorrow, and I’ll gladly take care of it for
you.” She winked.

“Sounds like a date to me.” I rolled to my side of
the bed and stood up, quickly pulling on my pants.

“Does it?”

I turned to her, confused. “Does it, what?”

“Sound like a date?” She moved to my side of the
bed and looked up at me with those enchanting doe
eyes. “Is that what we’re doing? Dating?” Her
smile was small.

I thought for a second. “Yeah. That’s exactly what
we’re doing. Does that bother you?” For a moment,
I thought she was going to tell me that it did bother
her and that we weren’t dating.

Then she shook her head, her smile broadening.
“Not a bit. I just wanted to make sure what this was
before…” her voice trailed off.

I hugged her and we kissed again. “Before what,
Em?”

Shaking her head, she backed away. “Nothing. So,
I’ll come back tomorrow, say around noon again?”

I followed her to the door. “Sounds perfect. I’ll be
right here waiting.”

I watched her go to her car and get in. I kept
wondering, Before what?

The next day, she came over, and we had another
round of amazing, mind-bending sex. We both
showered at my place and got ready for work.

“So, you want to ride to work with me?” I waggled
my eyebrows at her and grinned.

She laughed. “No, I think we should each take our
own car.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her
ear as she put on her shoes. “Actually, I think it
might be best if we…” She finished with her shoes
and looked up at me.

“If we, what?” I was hoping she would say that it
would be best if we hopped back in the bed and
called out of work. I couldn’t get enough of her. I
was like a druggie looking for a fix when it came to
having her naked in my arms.

She sighed and stood. “I think it might be best if
we, you know, keep this hush-hush for now.”

Taken aback, I stared at her silently. It took a
moment for it to register what she meant. Then I
took the meaning and thought about it.

Rushing on, she said, “You know, just for now. For
a while. I don’t want our relationship to cause
any…any…” She cast about for more words,
seeming flustered.

“Any grief at work?” I finished for her.

“Yes. With your father or with my father.” She
picked up her purse and waited for me to reply.

I had been so busy falling in love with her and
enjoying her company that I had failed to think
about how our relationship might cause us trouble
at work. My father wouldn’t be happy about it
maybe. He might think I was playing, as I had
always done, and that it would eventually blow up
in my face, as it always did. He would be afraid of
dealing with lawsuits and the like. He would
definitely lecture about the relationship.

I nodded. “Yeah, I hadn’t thought about it until just
now, but our fathers might not be thrilled at the
prospect, huh?”

Shaking her head, she smiled wanly. “Especially
yours. I mean, he knows my dad pretty well on a

professional level, but he doesn’t know me at all.
Employees fraternizing would probably raise all
sorts of red flags—especially when one of them is
his only son and heir to the throne, so to speak. He
surely wouldn’t want anything like this to mar your
name.”

I laughed. “You’re worried about our ‘fraternizing’
marring my name? I think I’ve done quite enough
of that all on my own. You could only help
straighten out my name.” I pulled her into a big hug
and kissed her on the tip of her cute little button
nose.

Giggling, she wriggled free of my embrace and I
chased her, pinching at her backside as she
squealed and ran out the door.

At her car, I pinned her and kissed her pouty lips.
“Tell you what. I’ll keep the secret for a while,
if…”

“If what?” She chuckled.

“If you promise to…” I kissed her again. “…come
back tonight.”

“That’s not a hard promise to keep.” She poked me
in the ribs, and I stood back, letting her get into her
car.

“It’s harder than you think.” I winked and shut her
door.

She blew me a kiss, and I caught it. The silly games
you play when you’re newly in love, huh?

At work, I kept it strictly business until we were on
lunch. I sat across from her, to keep up
appearances, you understand, and started flirting
with her, teasing her about the activities I had
planned for after work.

She laughed and blushed but didn’t tell me to stop.
Her blush was beautiful, and her nervousness at my
words was delicious. It was like a game of Cloak
and Dagger.

Leaning forward, I whispered, “I see why you
wanted to keep the secret. It’s the intrigue, the
constant threat of someone finding out, or
overhearing our conversation.” I winked and made
a circle with my thumb and forefinger as I nodded.
“Is much fun, Fraulein Shandon.”

My attempt at a German accent must have hit a
funny bone because she burst out laughing. I
cleared my throat as I saw her father come to the
door, but she didn’t pay attention and was still
guffawing when he peeked around the open door.

“Everything all right in here?” He grinned.

Emily jumped nearly out of her seat, swallowing
her laughter. She turned to him with big eyes and he
looked questioningly at me. I made my expression
completely neutral and shrugged as if to say I had

no idea what was wrong with her.

“Ahem. Yes, Daddy. Everything is fine. Dylan’s just
being stupid.” She couldn’t hold a straight face and
burst out laughing again.

I kept up the charade with my innocent expression.
“Now, that hurts my feelings.” I continued to eat
my sandwich as she regained her composure.

She kicked my foot hard, and I nearly choked.
Then we were both laughing. Her father looked
confused, shook his head and smiled a little as he
turned away.

“You know your dad is assessing the cost of
therapy for you even as he walks away, right? He
sinks your mind eez fubar, Fraulein.”

“Stop! Your accent is so…” She laughed again,
“…terrible. It’s not even how Germans talk in the
movies—those terrible accents for German villains
are even better than yours.” She swiped at her face
and eyes, straightening up before returning to work.

“Really? I knew it was bad, but, really?” I shook
my head as if sad, and we walked out of the
breakroom.

“No, actually, I was being nice. It’s worse than
that.” She snorted laughter again and walked away
to her station, leaving me at mine.

Like I said, the silly games we play…

Emily

didn’t let up on Dylan about getting in
contact with his mother. I thought it was a
real shame that they both had given up on
each other. Of course, I didn’t know all the
circumstances, one outside the relationship
never can, but I still thought there was hope
for mother and son to reconcile and nurture a

healthy relationship.

He had promised he would consider it, but he had
done more. He called and left messages at his
mother’s. When she didn’t call back after a week,
he wrote her a letter. In this age of technology, text
messages, direct messages via social media, and the
like, Dylan Rochester took the time to sit down and
write and honest to god letter with a pen and paper.
I was so proud of him.

Another week passed and he called one last time.
“If she doesn’t answer, or call me back by the end
of this week, I don’t know, Emily. Maybe it is a

waste of time. Maybe she really hates me. I
couldn’t blame her if she did.”

“Oh my god, Dylan. Don’t talk like that. She
doesn’t hate you. How could a mother hate her
only son?” I walked to him and wrapped my arms
around his waist, resting my head on his chest. I
had grown to love him so much and so quickly that
it scared me sometimes. I hadn’t told him yet. That,
like sex, will come naturally in a relationship, or not
at all.

He kissed the top of my head and wrapped his big
strong arms around me. “You just don’t know how
badly I talked to her, Emily. It makes me sick to
think I could do something like that to her now.”

“It’ll all be okay.” I looked up at him. It was in his
eyes that he was really worried about it. “Promise.
It’s going to work out fine. You will figure it out.
You’re a brilliant man with excellent powers of
persuasion.”

“Oh, you think?” He grinned, some of the worry
leaving his face.

“I know. Just look at what you’ve done to me.”

“I seem to remember that you weren’t complaining
about any of it.” He kissed me softly.

“Nope. Not a bit.” I melted against him, allowing
our bodies to meld together in the perfect matchup.

We seemed made for each other. Physically and
mentally, we were like two puzzle pieces that fit
together perfectly.

Another few days went by, and the Dylan came to
me. He was excited. I could see it on his face
before he ever got into the house.

“I need you to help me, Emily. Will you?” He
wiggled his phone at me.

“Well, yeah. You know I will. What do you need?”
I looked from him to his cellphone.

“It’s my mom. She called me back. She wants me
to come see her.” His voice sounded breathy and
his excitement spilled into his words.

“That’s great! When are you going?” I was
immediately excited for him. Finally, he and his
mother could work things out!

His face dropped. “That’s just it. If I go, and I very
much want to, Father will be furious. You have no
idea how bad they hate each other.”

He had told me some of the tensions between him
and Mr. Rochester, and how his father held control
of all his money. I knew he was afraid of angering
his father any more than he already had. He felt
bad for all the waste and frivolous ways he had
blown that money to date. But he had never really
spoken of how his mother and father were toward

each other after the divorce. I always assumed
there were bitter feelings, that’s just typical for a
divorced couple.

Wanting to do all I could to help him mend his
broken relationship, I asked, “What can I do to
help?”

“Ugh, I hate asking it like this; it sounds so bad. I’m
a grown man, but you heard what my father told
yours about keeping strict tabs on me at work. If I
screw up in any way, even minor infractions, your
dad is supposed to report it immediately.”

“Yes, I know. But you’re doing fine on your job,
Dylan. There’s nothing to worry about there.” I
laughed, still confused.

He ran his hand through his hair. It was a sign of
stress, I had learned.

“If I’m going to go see my mother, I need to take a
few days off from work. Father has already said
that I am absolutely not getting any days off until
he knows for sure that I’ve learned my lesson.” He
flopped into a kitchen chair, elbows on the table,
phone twirling between his fingers.

“He won’t let you off to see your mother?” I was
incredulous.

“Nope. He can’t stand the thought of me going
anywhere near her, so I know he won’t.”

“Well, can’t he see how much you’ve changed in
the last few months? Even Daddy comments on it.”
I joined him, sitting across from him.

“No, he hasn’t. And, he likely won’t for a while
yet. Maybe until a year is up. I can’t risk him
finding out that I’m going to her, though. There
would definitely be hell to pay, and I’m just not
ready to deal with it.” He laid his phone down.

I couldn’t believe how strict his father was being,
but it was none of my business. Not really. That
was between father and son. But to keep him from
seeing his own mother, I thought was terrible.

“Name it. I’ll do it.” I was resolute. I wouldn’t
stand by idly and let what might be their only
chance to reunite, slip away.

“Thank you, Emily. I’ll repay you somehow.” He
stood and leaned over the table to kiss me. “I need
a few days off to go see Mother and reconnect with
her. I’ve got a lot of shit to make up for. If you
could talk to your dad and ask him not to tell my
father of my absence, it would be a life saver for
me.”

I thought it over for a moment. I knew I could talk
my father into almost anything; I had learned that
when I was little. Not finding any harm in Dylan’s
request, I smiled and nodded. “I can do that. I can’t
promise anything, but I’m pretty sure I can get you

Wednesday through Friday off. You’ll have the
weekend, too, and then return to work Monday like
normal.” I was already thinking of how to phrase
the conversation opener with Daddy.

“I was actually thinking more like all week. Father
just gave me a schedule change this morning. He
said I am to start working two days a week in the
offices; eight-hour shifts. That means I will only be
working at the warehouse three nights a week. I’ll
tell him that you are very busy at the warehouse
and that I want to work there all week to ensure
you don’t fall behind, and that I won’t be able to
work the mornings at the office because I might
have to work some overtime at the warehouse.” He
looked at me hopefully.

His plan sounded solid, if his father would take the
bait, he would be all set to go see his mother. “All
right. It sounds plausible. I don’t think there are any
glaring holes in the story.”

I went to Daddy’s house and talked the plan over
with him. It wasn’t as easy as I had thought to get
him to agree, but the backstory about Dylan and his
mother finally won him over.

“Emily, I hope this doesn’t blow up in our faces. I
love you more than anything in the world, and I
trust your judgement about Dylan. I understand
you’re willing to do this for him to get him and his

mother back on speaking terms, but I worry. If Mr.
Rochester finds out…”

He let his voice trail off as he looked out the
kitchen window and rubbed his cheek with one
hand. He was worried. Maybe rightly so, but I
couldn’t let it go.

“He won’t, Daddy. Dylan is talking to him right
now. He’ll think Dylan’s at the warehouse all week
and won’t come all the way out there just to check,
I’m sure of it. Please, Daddy. Just do this one thing
for me. For Dylan. I miss Mama terribly, and I
would hate for Dylan’s mother to pass away
without them ever having the chance to have a
wonderful relationship like me and Mama had.” I
sighed, unsure of how to continue. “It’s just too sad
to think about. He’s a good man. He just needs us
to help him so he can find his way. A broken family
is sad enough. Don’t punish him even more than
he’s punishing himself. Please?” I laid my hand on
Daddy’s arm.

He turned to me. His eyes were sad at the
memories of Mama, I’m sure. He put his hand over
mine and patted it. A smile replaced the sadness.

“I respect your wishes, Em. You’ve got a big heart.
Your mother would be so proud of the sweet
woman you’ve grown into.” He pulled me into a
hug.

“So, you’ll do it?” I smiled at him hopefully.

“Yes.” He chuckled and kissed my forehead the
way he used to when I was a little girl.

I hugged him again, tighter. “Thank you, Daddy!
You won’t regret it. I promise!”

Dylan

hile Emily went to speak with her father
about my request, I went to see my own
father in the office. With sweaty palms, I
entered his office and waited for him to
offer me a seat.

“What’s on your mind, son?” He laid his
pen down and closed the laptop to

scrutinize me.

I felt like a bug under a microscope. “I wanted to
talk to you about this week at the warehouse.
They’re pretty hectic over there right now.”

He nodded and tapped the laptop. “Yes, I can see
that from here.”

I nodded. “Well, I thought I would work there all
week. Pull some overtime, if necessary, just to
make sure they don’t fall behind on orders.” I made
certain to make and hold eye contact with him. Any
slip would alert him that something was up. He was
a shrewd man.

Steepling his fingers under his chin, he leaned back
in his seat. “Really? You?”

Sighing, unable to stop it before it happened, I
nodded. “Yes, me. It seems a waste to have me
here in the office when you’ve got two very
capable men taking care of things for you and let
the warehouse fall behind. I could work there and
then start your new schedule here next week.”

He studied me, rocking slightly in the chair. It was a
barely perceptible motion, but my senses were
heightened because I knew if he found me out,
there would be trouble. He mulled over the offer
for several long minutes. I assumed he was giving
me time to trip up or out myself. It was a tactic he
used when I was little, and invariably, I always got
nervous, rushed ahead and ended up getting myself
into trouble.

Not now, though. I had learned how to control
those urges years ago. I sat, hoping my expression

was as cool and neutral as it felt.

Sitting forward, he put his hands on the desk and
flashed the tiniest smile at me. It was there and
gone in a split-second. So quick that I had to
wonder if I had really seen it or not.

“Your work has steadily improved. So has your
attitude. You seem to have grown up quite a bit
over the last few months. You’ve been working
hard. Much harder than I had thought you would.
I’m glad to see you’ve finally taken an interest in
the business, Dylan. I guess I’ll see you bright and
early next Monday morning.” The next smile he
favored me with was genuine and lasted long
enough for me to breathe a sigh of relief.

I stood and we shook hands. “Thanks, Dad. And,
yes, I’ve taken a great interest in the business. I just
wish I could have done it years ago.”

I left the office and headed straight home. I called
Emily’s cellphone as I packed my suitcase.

She answered with, “You’re all set!”

Exhaling my pent-up breath, I laughed. “Thank you
so much, Emily. I’m packing as we speak. This is
awesome and I don’t know how to thank you!” I
wanted to hug her tight and take her with me, but I
knew that wasn’t possible. She had school and
work to think about.

“You can thank me by making amends with your
Mom, Dylan. That’s all the thanks I need, baby.”
She practically cooed the words into my ear, and I
smiled.

“That’s exactly what I plan on doing, sexy. I’ll be
back Sunday night or Monday morning.”

We said goodbye and I hung up the phone, excited
to finally be on my way.

The place where my mother was staying was about
ninety minutes to two hours away, depending on if I
beat the midday traffic. As I drove, I was overcome
by an intense feeling of happiness and excitement
that I had not known was in me. I was really like a
little kid going to see his mom for the first time in a
long time. I would never forget that Emily had
helped me so much. She was the best thing that had
happened to me…ever. That her father agreed to
cover for me was great. I owed him one, too.

Continuing through the traffic, my worries about
my father finding out I was gone seemed to dissolve
and drift away. I had plenty of time to think about it
all. I was a grown man; I didn’t really need to ask
my father’s permission to see my mother after all
these years. But, at the same time I wanted to mend
mine and my mother’s relationship, I also wanted to
prove to my father that I was reliable and that I had
matured over the last months. It was a conundrum

that I could see no other way of solving except by
keeping my visit a secret from him.

Keeping secrets had never been something I’d had
to do. I had always lived my playboy life right out
in the open. Hence my father’s sudden restrictions
and demands. I didn’t like that Emily and I were
keeping our relationship a secret, but I understood
how the old man might perceive it and
wholeheartedly disagree with it. As he was still in
full control of my income, I had to jump through his
flaming hoops for a while longer.

Just until I proved myself to him.

Emily

ylan and I exchanged a few, and by a few
I mean five, text messages between
Monday night and Thursday morning. I
didn’t want to intrude on his time with his
mother. They obviously had a lot to talk
about and even more to work through,
according to all Dylan had told me. I

wasn’t about to be any sort of stumbling block for
him. I was so proud of him for finally sorting out
the mess and reconnecting with her that it never
even occurred to me that any of it could be a lie.

That evening, Daddy and I went to work as usual. It
was my last shift until the following Monday, and I
had my project on my mind. While I took my lunch
alone in the upstairs breakroom, missing Dylan’s
company and debating on shooting him a text,
Daddy stepped to the door.

His face was a mask of worry. “Mr. Rochester just
came in.”

“What?” I spun in my seat, sending my cellphone
flying to the floor from my hand. I shot out of the
seat in a panic. “Oh my god, Daddy, what do we
tell him?”

Daddy held out a hand and shushed me. “I will
have no choice but to tell him the truth, if he asks. I
can’t risk my job, Emily.”

My heart sank. I knew he was right, of course, but
it still hurt that he might have to out Dylan to his
father. I nodded sadly and turned to pick up my
phone. Quickly I cleaned up my mess, thought
about texting Dylan again, but thought I would wait
to see the outcome of Mr. Rochester’s visit first. I
hurried back toward my station, but Mr. Rochester
stood with Daddy, a stern look on his face as they
greeted each other. I walked over and stood with
Daddy.

“Roger, we need to talk.” Mr. Rochester looked
absolutely pissed. Like he was barely holding his
temper.

Daddy nodded. “Sure, Mr. Rochester. What can I
help you with?” His face didn’t register anything
out of the ordinary. He looked mildly concerned,
which was understandable. He held his hand out to
usher Mr. Rochester into the office, but he declined
with a shake of his head.

“I think this can be handled rather quickly and right

here, Roger. Where is my son? Where is Dylan?”
He crossed his arms and stared hard at Daddy.

Daddy looked down at the floor and then back to
Mr. Rochester. His sudden crestfallen appearance
hurt my heart. He was facing the wrath of his boss,
and it was my fault. Thinking Daddy could do a
better job talking to Mr. Rochester about it, I
remained silent for the moment.

“Mr. Rochester, I’m sorry.” Daddy told him the
story about Dylan’s mother, and how recently
losing Mama had affected me and him both, he had
made a bad decision. “For that, I am truly sorry.
But I still think the boy needs to mend his and his
mother’s relationship. Every day counts, and your
son has been doing great work here. He reports on
time, does his job great, I never have any problems
out of him. After those first couple weeks when he
was adjusting to all this, he’s been an exemplary
employee.”

Mr. Rochester rocked back on his heels and made a
clicking sound with his tongue. “So, you’ve been
covering for him?”

Daddy nodded. “Yes sir, I’m sorry, but I have
been.”

“And how long was this supposed to continue?
Were you ever going to report it to me as I asked?”
Mr. Rochester shifted his weight once again,

rocking back on his heels, glaring at Daddy.

Blowing out a deep sigh, Daddy shook his head.
“Until he returned Monday, sir.” He couldn’t make
eye contact with Mr. Rochester.

“So, you thought you were doing him a big favor,
giving him a helping hand to get by his own
father…” Mr. Rochester paused, dipped his head
down to get Daddy’s attention and then added, “to
go see his poor estranged mother, right?”

Daddy nodded again. “Something like that, yes.”
His was the voice of a defeated man.

Mr. Rochester pulled out his phone. “Let me just
show you what he’s been up to, Roger. Let me
show you what you helped him do. It’s the very
thing that got him into this trouble with me to start
with.” He shoved the phone toward Daddy, waited
a second and swiped the screen. He repeated this
several times as I edged closer so I could see, too.

Mr. Rochester had no problem letting me see the
pictures that had been posted to different social
media sites. I saw the last three. That was enough
for me. Dylan and different beautiful girls with their
arms around each other, smiling for the pictures.
The girls were in party dresses, Dylan in a suit.
Then the final one with the most beautiful, sexy girl
yet. They were drinking champagne and laughing
for the camera.

My guts twisted and nausea swept through me. My
face grew flaming hot, and a high-pitched ringing
filled my ears.

Daddy looked at once furious and humiliated. His
cheeks flamed red as he looked slowly to me.

Mr. Rochester smirked, put the phone back in his
pocket, and straightened his suit jacket roughly.
“Now, the time stamps on these posts prove that he
was posting during the days and the nights. Evan
brought them to my attention just this morning. Do
you know what I did after this revelation?” He
arched his eyebrows and looked from Daddy to me
and back again. “Anyone?”

We both shook our heads in silence.

“I looked over your nightly reports just to be
certain you, Roger, one of my most trusted
employees, had not reported his absence. I trusted
you with this. You were given a direct order to
report everything about Dylan to me immediately.”
He visibly poised himself and ran a hand through
his hair. “I’m firing you, Roger. I can’t have you
working in this position if I can’t trust you.” He
patted his coat pocket where his phone resided.
“And I obviously cannot trust you anymore.”

Daddy’s jaw dropped and his eyes grew wide. “But
Mr. Rochester, please—”

“No, Roger. I want you to collect your personal

things and leave tonight at the end of your shift.
Don’t come back.” His eyes had turned to burning
little coals full of rage.

Unable to stand by silently any longer, I rushed to
Mr. Rochester. “Please, Mr. Rochester, don’t fire
him. It was my fault that he agreed to do this.”

He looked at me as if I were an insignificant little
bug who had deigned to interrupt him. “Well, well,
well. If you’re so manipulative that you can turn an
honest man into a liar, you should be fired, too. But
as I’m unsure of your part in this, I’ll settle for
firing him. Thank you for your honesty, Miss
Shandon, I take it?”

I nodded, cold all over and tingly. “This isn’t right,
though. You shouldn’t fire him for something I
caused.”

“Yes, that’s all the more reason I should fire him. I
can’t have untrustworthy people working for me.”
He turned to leave.

“Well, to be honest, this is your fault. If you hadn’t
been so dead set on Dylan never going to see his
mother, none of this would have happened. We
were only helping him based on what he told us.
We never thought he had lied about any of this.”

“And, he chose another pretty face that only had a
headful of romantic notions to dupe. It’s his M.O.
As for his situation with that woman, his mother,

it’s none of your concern in the first place.” He
paused, looked at his feet, chuckled, and turned a
piercing gaze to me. “And, did I hear you
correctly? Did you just blame all this on me?”

Stubbornly, I nodded. “Yes, I did.”

“Miss Shandon, you now share your father’s fate.
Dylan obviously lied to you about his mother. He
never intended to visit her, you silly girl. Check the
pictures for yourself; they’re online for the world to
see. That’s not his mother in any of those pictures.”

“You’re firing both of us?” Daddy gawked in
disbelief at Mr. Rochester.

“Neither of you seem to have hearing impairment.
Yes, that’s exactly what I just did, and nothing will
change my decision. Have a nice life.” He tossed a
hand up, giving us a backward wave as he stormed
out of the area.

I can’t even describe how bad I felt that, because
of me, my father had lost his job. The defeated
slump of his shoulders as he piled his years’ worth
of personal items into a box, the forlorn expression
in his eyes, was almost more than I could bear. To
know that I had caused it was devastating to me.

I cried as I helped him put his things away. He was
tight-lipped and wouldn’t talk the whole time.
Finally, he flopped into his seat behind his desk and
stared blankly at the open doorway.

I hugged him, still crying, and said, “Daddy, I’m so,
so sorry. If I had known…”

He patted one of my hands and shook his head.
“But you didn’t, Emily. You’re not to blame, honey.
Just…go on and, I don’t know, sort out some orders
for the night.”

“Seriously? It doesn’t matter if I do work or not,
we’re not employed here after tonight, Daddy. How
can you tell me to go sort something out for
someone who just fired both of us for something
that wasn’t entirely our faults?”

Giving me a somber look, he replied, “But it is our
faults, honey. We knew it was wrong, and yet we
did it anyway. Anytime you have to lie to someone,
it’s wrong. And we are still employed here until the
end of the shift. I’ve devoted my life to this place, I
don’t want to be remembered as the man who let
Warehouse Number One get screwed up on his last
shift.”

It sounded lame to me, and that’s when I suspected
Daddy wanted me out of the office so he could
have a few moments to himself. Maybe he was
angry at me. I couldn’t blame him if he was.

It was okay, though, because I needed a few
minutes to myself, too. I needed to be able to
process exactly what had happened from start to
finish. I didn’t go to work, though, I went to the

breakroom I knew would be empty. I shut the door
and sat in the corner mulling over all that Dylan
had said to me.

By the end of the night, I was able to see how he
had groomed me into falling in love with him. He
had used me as a means to an end. With a silly
girl’s heart in his hand, he knew he could be free of
his father’s restrictions whenever he wanted. He
had intuitively known I would do as he asked and
drag my father into the situation, providing more
reliable cover for his actions.

In short, I was sickened by my own stupidity. Why
couldn’t I have seen what he was up to from the
beginning? Because I had been so needy, I had
wanted him to feel about me the same way I felt
about him. I was the posterchild for desperate
women everywhere. I had always tried so hard not
to be that person, and yet, here I was.

I had no idea how I would ever go about making
this up to Daddy. He had been set to retire from
Rochester Industries. He had his path all marked
out and planned ahead. And, now? I had
successfully been a moron when it came to a guy
and some good sex.

I was an asshole.

Dylan was worse than that. I couldn’t even decide
what he was besides loathsome and vile. To make

up such a good and convincing cover story was
monstrous of him.

He had used me for the last time. I was done with
Dylan Rochester for good. If I never heard from
him again, it would be too soon.

Dylan

y texts from Thursday night until I returned
home on Sunday were left unanswered. At
the time, I was so busy, and happy to have
worked things out with my mother, that I
didn’t think much of it. After all, Emily had
told me that she wouldn’t text with me
much while I was at Mom’s place to give us

uninterrupted time together. She said I should focus
on my relationship with Mom.

I was glad she had been so understanding. Without
her help and support, I might have put off going to
see my mother indefinitely. It was rather late on
Sunday night, around midnight, when I parked at
the house. I thought about calling Emily to let her
know that I had returned, but I knew she had early
classes the next morning. That was fine. We
weren’t that clingy couple who can’t stand to be
out of each other’s sight. I would see her at work
that evening, I thought.

Monday morning, I was running late as I had
snoozed my alarm one time too many, and I didn’t
call Emily then, either. By the time I was at the
office, I knew she would already be in class, so I
still didn’t call. Distance makes the heart grow
fonder, I once heard. Maybe it was in a love song,
or a line from one of my old movies, I’m not sure,
but it seemed to me it was a truism.

I couldn’t wait to see Emily that evening.

My father wasn’t in the office that morning, and
when I asked Evan his whereabouts, he looked at
me as if confused.

“Well, he’s…um…out on business right now.” He
scurried away as if afraid I might bite him. He was
an odd character on the best of days, so I let him
go, wondering where Father could be on business.

I planned on staying in the office until almost time
to go to the warehouse. I was determined to make a
good impression on my father after the stunt I had
just pulled. I didn’t want him looking into the last
week’s reports too closely, or god forbid, visiting
the warehouse.

Emily would be thrilled at the developments
between me and my mother. I wanted to tell her
everything about Mom’s engagement, and all the
family I had met while I was there that I had either
never met or had last seen when I was young. We

had a great time, and the memories floated me
along through my office hours.

Before I knew it, it was time to go to the
warehouse. I drove a little faster than was safe
perhaps, but I was excited to share the last week
with Emily. I couldn’t wait to see the smile on her
face.

I arrived and didn’t see her car or her father’s little
truck. It was a big parking lot and I thought I could
have just missed them. Racing to the time clock, I
punched in and waited for the machine to print out
my little time ticket, stuffed it into my pocket and
jogged around the corner to the main floor as I put
on my safety glasses.

Roger’s office was empty. It looked different, too,
but I couldn’t place what exactly was different. I
looked toward the main floor and didn’t see him in
any of his usual places. Taking the stairs two at a
time, I rushed up to see if he might be on the
second floor. Hurriedly, I walked the entire second
floor, peeking into every room and every aisle of
boxes.

Emily and Roger were nowhere up there.
Scratching my head in confusion, I descended the
same stairs and stood at the bottom. A couple of the
nightshift employees who had just clocked in came
around the corner. I didn’t know many of them, but

those two guys were at least familiar faces.

“Hey, you guys know where Roger and Emily are?”
Bad scenarios about wrecks and hospitalizations
were running through my mind at that point. I was
getting more worried by the minute.

They exchanged a look and moved aside so others
could pass by. The first guy looked at me. “You
didn’t hear? You’re the big boss’ son, right?”

“Yes, I am, and no, I didn’t hear. Hear what?” My
heart thudded heavily with worry and dread.

He shook his head and looked troubled. “They got
fired Thursday night. No warning, no write-ups, no
nothing. Just fired. Mr. Rochester came in here and
did the firing himself.”

The second guy gave me a bewildering look that
was a mixture of anger and resentment. My chest
was aching. There was only one reason why Father
would have fired them that I could think of, but I
had to ask.

“Why did he fire them?” I swallowed over a dry
lump in my throat.

The second wasted no time. “Because of you.
Because you got them to cover for you is what I
heard.” He nodded at Guy Number One. “Right,
Charlie?”

Charlie nodded. “That’s what we all heard. Damn

shame, too. Roger was the best boss we’d ever
had.” He nudged his friend’s elbow and they
walked away.

Without a second thought, I left. I didn’t bother
clocking out or calling my father for permission,
either. This had to be settled immediately.

I drove to Emily’s school, quite lost on the large
campus, and parked in a visitor lot. I found a safety
patrolman and asked him how I would find a
student. He directed me to the office—on the other
side of the campus.

Dialing Emily’s phone, I was met with a declined
call. I called again, and the same thing happened.
She didn’t want to talk to me. Now I knew why she
had stopped texting me Thursday evening. She
probably hated me.

The office wouldn’t give me Emily’s location.
When I asked where the building was located that
she was having class in, the woman shook her head
at me.

“I’m sorry, sir. You can’t just come in and demand
a student’s whereabouts. You need to leave unless
you have business here.” Her scowl said that she
would have no problem calling security on me.

I agreed, apologized, and left the building. I walked
the campus until I found Emily’s building and I
waited outside. It was her last class of the day

unless her schedule had changed recently.

My heart skipped when I spotted her coming down
the steps. There was no denying I was in love with
her. My whole world brightened the moment we
made eye contact. Everything seemed worthwhile
again.

She dragged her gaze away and turned in the
opposite direction, staying in the little crowd as she
walked.

“Emily! Emily, wait!” I ran, elbowing my way
through until I reached her.

She jerked her elbow from my hand and shot me a
look filled with such pain and disappointment that it
stopped me in my tracks.

“I have nothing to say to you, Dylan. Leave me
alone or I will yell for security.” Tears shimmered in
her eyes as she stormed away.

Again, I raced to catch up with her. “Emily, please,
hear me out. Please.” I would have jumped in front
of her and went to my knees to beg at that moment.
Right in front of everyone. I didn’t care. All that
mattered was that I get to explain things to her and
make sure we were all right again.

Stopping, she looked up at me with those shimmery
doe eyes, and I melted. She swiped her unshed
tears away and her bottom lip quivered.

No, I thought, don’t do that. I don’t think I can
handle you crying because of me.

It was easy to imagine the lengths a man would go
to for the love of a woman like Emily. Right then I
was sure many a war had been fought for the favor
of women like her. See, men get a little goofy when
they fall in love. We don’t mean to do it, it’s just in
our genes. We’re all fierce and tough and macho
until a woman snatches our hearts. Then we turn
into big lumps of needy, clingy goo. It’s
embarrassing sometimes, but only after the fact. In
the heat of the moment, we don’t care how others
see us or how ridiculous we seem. All that matters
is the woman in our sights.

“Will you go away if I listen to you?” She squared
her shoulders and leveled a grade A poker face at
me.

I nodded. “Yes, if you still want me to.”

She turned and looked around, pointed to a picnic
table under a big oak tree, and started walking.
Like a puppy who had been scolded, I followed
with hope building in my heart. If she was willing to
hear me out, she didn’t hate me.

Thumping her books to the table, she sat and
averted her gaze. “So, spill. What is it that’s so
important you had to come interrupt my studies to
say?”

I leaped into the story of going to my mother’s
house and meeting her. I told her how Mother was
engaged, and that I had also met her husband-to-be,
and many of my family members. I told her about
the engagement party and how happy everybody
seemed to be. It was the polar opposite of being
with my father, that’s for sure. Where there was
coldness and anger with Father, there was warmth,
love, and acceptance with Mother.

“Two totally different worlds. I wish you could
have been with me, Em. I would have loved for you
to meet Mother.” I reached over the table and laid
my hand tentatively over hers.

She stiffened and pulled her hand back
immediately. “Yeah? That all sounds lovely. Is it
another one of your elaborate lies?”

Taken aback, I gawked at her. “No, Emily. I’ve not
lied to you. I wouldn’t lie to you. Ever.”

She snorted laughter and looked disgusted.
“Really? Then what’s with all the pictures of you
with those sexy, slinky, bombshells? Drinking
champagne, dancing, laughing, really mugging it up
for the camera and then posting it all over your
social media. Did you really think I wouldn’t find
them? That I wouldn’t find out about you?” Her
face looked as if she had just smelled something
rotten.

“What? No!” I pulled out my phone and opened
the pictures app. “Here, you can look through all of
them. I was going to show you all of them anyway.
I even have some video clips of all of us. Those
pictures were taken at Mom’s engagement party,
Em. I swear to you that those girls were all related
to me. Every last one of them. Cousins. I can prove
it to you.” I pushed the phone between her hands,
motioning for her to peruse the photos. I had
nothing to hide from her.

“Cousins?” She looked doubtfully between me and
the phone.

“Cousins. Most of them are from my mother’s
family, but a few are from Dad’s side. You’d never
guess they were related to him, though.” I
chuckled.

Emily swiped through some of the pictures, and her
expression changed to something softer, and the
look in her eyes morphed from anger and pain into
hope. She slid the phone back to me.

“You have a lot of female cousins.” She cocked an
eyebrow at me.

“You can’t hold that against me. We don’t get to
choose our families, you know.” I opened a video
and turned it to her. “The four guys in the
background are cousins, too, if that helps. This was
after the party.” I let the video play in which the

girls were wishing my mother good luck with the
marriage and sharing a bit about the family, funny
anecdotes and stories and such.

After the video, she looked wide-eyed at me.
“You’re telling the truth.”

“Well, don’t sound like that’s something new and
unexpected. I told you I never lied to you, Emily.” I
wanted to tell her that I loved her, but the timing
wasn’t right. She might think I was only saying it to
get back on her good side.

Within minutes, we were sitting side by side, my
arm draped over her shoulders. I showed her more
videos and talked her through what was going on
and who the people were. After, she looked up at
me worriedly.

“Hey,” I said, “don’t worry about your job, or your
father’s. I won’t allow either of you to be fired. You
both come to the offices tomorrow at one. I’ll talk
to my father on your behalf and straighten this
out.” I kissed her temple and felt the tension release
from her shoulders. It was nice to feel that. She had
found it in her heart to trust me again. I liked being
the reason she relaxed and some of her worry
faded.

“Will he listen? I mean, after…” She pointed to the
phone. “Those pictures are what brought it all out.
Someone in the office saw them and told Mr.

Rochester about them. When he saw them, he was
fit to be tied.”

Nodding, I pulled her close. “Let me worry about
the old man. It’s time he let some of the anger and
resentment from the past go. It’s also time for him
to realize that I am my own man, and that I can
make my own decisions.” I buried my face in her
hair. “That’s because of you, Emily. Thank you for
encouraging me to go see Mom. You have no idea
how much it has helped me.”

Emily

addy was skeptical when I told him that
Dylan was going to get our jobs back. I
was thrilled, but I didn’t let Daddy see
that. I was worried that it would be a let
down if Dylan couldn’t get our jobs back.
Or worse, what if he didn’t try? That
induced and anxiety that gnawed at my

gut. I argued with myself over it. Would he have
really gone through the trouble of running me down
and pleading with me to hear him out if he was just
stringing me along? It seemed like a lot of work just
to keep telling me lies.

Still, I couldn’t quite let it go. In the end, Daddy
agreed to accompany me to the Rochester
Industries’ office building the next day. I think
perhaps he simply wanted to be there for me to
offer moral support in case Dylan didn’t do as he
had promised.

Even though I had declared that I was finished with

Dylan Rochester for good, apparently my heart
wasn’t finished with him.

Despite my feelings, I didn’t reunite romantically
with Dylan right away. There was simply too much
going on. If nowhere else, in my mind and heart. I
had been devastated, my heart ripped out, when I
had seen those pictures and heard the stories from
Mr. Rochester. A thing like that isn’t easily
overcome. An apology and some explanations
didn’t cure it immediately, and I was still wary of
trusting him completely again.

I made sure Dylan understood that before we
parted ways at school, too. I told him I was working
it all out in my head, and I needed some time. I
thought he would protest immediately, but he gave
me a sad smile and nodded his agreement.

We didn’t text that night, and I barely slept. I
hadn’t slept much at all since Thursday night. Even
though I was exhausted, I couldn’t rest. I tossed
and turned, flipped the cover off me only to drag it
back over me minutes later. I repeated this over and
over until I must have completely worn myself out.
I fell asleep about an hour before my alarm
sounded.

Starting my day groggy and muzzy headed, I
plodded through my classes and didn’t get fully
awake until it was time to go to the office building.

It was a much longer drive than the warehouse, so
Daddy and I left early, anticipating heavy traffic
during the lunch hour. We had not been wrong.
Traffic was nine kinds of crazy, and the stop-and-go
stressed me out even more.

At the building, we looked at each other worriedly.

“Hey, look on the bright side, if he doesn’t get our
jobs back, we’re not losing anything—Mr.
Rochester already fired us.” Daddy laughed, trying
to sound lighthearted about the whole thing, but I
could see and sense his apprehension as we headed
for the entrance.

Dylan greeted us with a huge smile and bright eyes.
I was glad he had apparently slept better than I had.

He spent a moment apologizing to Daddy and
assuring him that it would be put right within a few
minutes, and then he led us to the elevator.

“There are some chairs in the corridor where you
two can sit and wait while I talk to him. He hasn’t
been in all that long today again. He’s been taking
care of some business at another warehouse and
with another client, so he’s been super busy. I
promise this won’t take long thought.” He showed
us to the seats and then disappeared into the office
a few feet away.

The door closed, and I turned to Daddy. “I hope
he’s right. I hope his father listens to him and

understands.”

Daddy clasped his hands in his lap and looked to
the blank wall in front of us. “Me, too, honey. Me,
too.” His voice was quiet.

Suddenly, there was a loud thump and raised, male
voices from the office. The volume of the argument
rose until we could hear every word. A few workers
stood and peeked over their cubicle walls with
quizzical and worried looks.

I heard Dylan exclaim, “It was Mother’s party I
went to. That’s where the pictures are from! Are
you listening to nothing I’m saying? She is my
mother and I will see her even though you seem set
to keep me from her.” There was a pause, a
muttered reply in an angry, clipped tone, and then
Dylan said, “No! You absolutely will not rule me
like that anymore. She will always be my mother
and there’s nothing you can do to stop me seeing
her!”

There were more angry words from Mr. Rochester,
but they had become unintelligible as he had
lowered his voice just enough to keep us from
hearing them.

There was another loud thump and then an
alarming crash that caused me and Daddy to jump
simultaneously from our seats. I spun to look at the
doorway, my hand over my mouth to stifle the yelp

of surprise.

Shuffling came from the room and then Dylan
yelled, “Help! Somebody help! It’s Dad!”

I never hesitated. I don’t remember making a
decision, I was simply inside the office. Mr.
Rochester was on the floor by his chair.

“What happened,” I asked Dylan as I knelt by his
father. The right side of his face drooped badly.

“He, he, he just exploded in a rage and threw that
letter holder at me. I dodged and when I turned
back to confront him, he crumpled to the floor. Oh,
god! What’s wrong with him?”

I shook my head and asked Mr. Rochester to state
his name. A mumbled garb of syllables came out
and he grasped at my shirt with his left hand. I
asked him if he could tell me his name again, and
again, he spewed the garbled syllables that sounded
nothing like his name. He could not grip my fingers
with his right hand at all. His right side was useless.

“He’s had a stroke. Call an ambulance
immediately!” I didn’t look at Dylan, I kept my
attention on Mr. Rochester.

“He said he had a headache and didn’t feel like
dealing with me right now. God, did I cause this?”
Dylan was terrified.

“No, no. Was he complaining with any other

symptoms?” I looked over my shoulder at Dylan.
“Think. How was he acting?”

Shaking his head, Dylan sputtered, “He kept
rubbing the right side of his face and he was pale. I
saw him make a fist a couple times with his right
hand just before he stood up. That’s all I can think
of right now. Is he going to be all right, Emily?”

I didn’t answer, just turned back to the fallen man. I
really didn’t know, and I was afraid to say anything.
I checked his pulse and breathing. His respiratory
rate was slowing and so was his pulse. He mumbled
something to me as if pleading, and he grasped
weakly at my hand.

Understanding that he was scared, I held his hand.
“Mr. Rochester, an ambulance is on its way. You’ve
suffered a stroke, but you’re okay. The ambulance
will take you to the hospital. Okay?”

He must have understood my words because he
moaned a reply and squeezed my hand a bit harder.
I took off my light jacket and placed it under his
head. “I’ll stay right here until help comes. If you
can, I need you to remain awake for me until then.
Can you do that, Mr. Rochester?”

The same moaned reply. His gaze never left my
face. It was the face of a terrified and hurt child
asking, pleading for help. My heart broke a little,
but I knew I had to stay strong.

“Dylan, if you could?” I motioned for him to come
closer so his father could see him. “See, Mr.
Rochester, Dylan’s here, too. We’re right here for
you, sir.” I patted his hand and rubbed my hand
gently over his hair as I smiled reassuringly at him.

Dylan fought tears. “Dad, I’m right here. Don’t you
worry about any of this, okay? You just relax and
do as Emily asks. I love you, Dad.” The tears fell
then.

Mr. Rochester muttered unintelligibly, and Dylan
moved back out of his line of sight to gather
himself. Daddy stood behind him and put a calming
hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be all right, son. Your
father will be fine.”

I turned back to Mr. Rochester. “Is anything
hurting?”

A tear slipped from his eye. I wiped it away for
him. He pulled his hand free and pointed to his
head as more tears fell.

“Your head hurts. Okay, sweetie. The medics will
be right here. I’ll let them know and they can give
you something to help. Okay?”

The medics rushed down the hall toward the office.
I could hear them ordering people out of their way.

“Dylan, move the chairs over there and push his
desk aside so they have room to work.” I held to

Mr. Rochester’s hand. “They’re here, Mr.
Rochester. You’re going to be okay.” My heart sank
as I realized he had gone unconscious.

As the medics entered, I moved aside. I gave them
all the information quickly and in the order I knew
they would ask. I had seen the forms they had to fill
out, and it came easily to my memory. Within
minutes, they had Mr. Rochester loaded onto the
trolley and ready for transport.

Still unconscious, Mr. Rochester was loaded into
the ambulance. The warbling siren sent waves of
anxiety through me. I hoped against hope that he
would be all right. I hoped I hadn’t lied to him or
given Dylan false hope. False hope is worse than no
hope at all.

Daddy drove us to the hospital. Dylan was
inconsolable as he asked the same questions
repeatedly. He twisted his hands together until I
was certain they would be raw. Thankfully, some of
the lunch traffic had thinned and following the
ambulance’s route was not as difficult as I had
feared it would be.

Trying to ease Dylan’s mind while still reminding
him of the direness of the situation was emotionally
draining. I finally got him to talk about how his dad
had been acting over the last weeks.

He had apparently been drinking more than usual,

extremely stressed over some business deals, and
not to mention terribly upset by Dylan’s defiance.

We arrived and had to be ushered into a waiting
room while the doctor stabilized Mr. Rochester.
That was the most nerve-wracking two hours of my
life since my mother had died. Sitting in the waiting
room reminded me of the trips to the cancer center
where my mother took her chemo treatments.

Each of us were lost in our own thoughts. I was
sure Daddy’s mind had turned to all the times we
had taken Mama to the hospital and how with each
visit she seemed more worn and less present.

Dylan had calmed considerably, and he asked,
“What’s on your mind, Em? Are you okay?”

I nodded. If I spoke, my own tears might fall, and I
didn’t want him to see them and think it was from
his father’s situation. Really, I didn’t want to talk
about Mama and the cancer. It was still too painful.

“Thank you for what you did back at the office. I
panicked. I froze up, but you reacted and did
everything you could. I felt so useless.” He snorted
in displeasure at his lack of action.

“I’ve had a little training, you know.” I nudged him
with my elbow and smiled.

“Yeah, and I’m his only son. You’d think I would
have had sense enough to call 9-1-1 at least.” He

shook his head and leaned forward resting his
elbows on his knees.

“We’ve been trained to act through the shock to
keep from freezing. That’s our jobs, our duties.
When someone we love collapses, it’s frightening.
You did fine. Better than most, actually.”

“Thanks.” He looked away and then back at me.
“Can I ask you something personal?”

Tired beyond belief, I nodded. “Sure. Anything.”
All I was thinking of was keeping his mind
occupied and at ease.

“Is your mother’s illness why you decided to
become a surgeon?”

My breath hitched once and then I was in control
again. Much better response than I had anticipated.
“Yes. It is. Her cancer was inoperable at the end.
After she had been decimated by the chemo with
little effect on the cancer, she took cobalt
treatments.” I shook my head unable to continue.
Mama had literally wasted away right before our
eyes. Every day she inched closer and closer to
death. The treatments took energy and vitality from
her and she never regained any of it.

Dylan put his hand on my knee. “I’m sorry. You
don’t have to talk about it.”

I nodded and looked to Daddy. He sat with his eyes

closed, chin lowered toward his chest, hands
clasped in his lap. If I hadn’t known him, I would
have thought he was napping, but I knew better. He
was reliving the last visits to the hospital with
Mama.

Finally, a doctor and his assistant came to the room.
“Family of Philip Rochester?” He looked askance
at us.

Dylan stood and offered his hand to the doctor. The
doctor shook it. “You’re the son, I take it?”

“Yes, I am. How is my father?”

I stood and put my hand on Dylan’s arm.

“I won’t lie, it’s not good. There’s still hope,
though. By the time he arrived, he had slipped into
a coma. There’s been some damage to the brain.
That’s quite normal with hemorrhagic strokes. It’s
too early to tell exactly how much damage has been
done, though. Typically, stroke patients are out of
the hospital in a week or so, but that might not be
the case with Mr. Rochester.”

“Oh my god. How long will he be in the coma?”
Dylan paled.

The doctor raised his shoulders. “There’s no way to
tell. I’m sorry I can’t give you more definitive
answers. Comas after a stroke can last from days to
several weeks. The worst case scenarios is that he

doesn’t come out of the coma. I just want you to
know what we’re looking at here. He could make a
full recovery with very few side effects, though.
You have to keep up hope.”

The doctor turned to me. “Are you by any chance
Emily?”

Confused, I nodded. “Yes, but how did you know?”

The EMTs who brought Mr. Rochester filled me in.
They said you were very knowledgeable and were a
great help in speeding up their process.” He looked
back to Dylan. “If not for Emily here, it is very
likely that your father could have passed.”

Daddy spoke up. “She’s studying to be a surgeon,
you know.”

My face heated up as the doctor gave me an
indulgent smile and nodded to Daddy. He turned
back to Dylan. “You can go in and see him now, but
only one at a time and only for ten minutes at a
time. He’s in a coma, but feel free to talk to him.
We have reason to believe he can still hear you.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Dylan followed him without
looking back.

Relief washed over me, and I sat heavily in a chair
by Daddy, feeling the last week’s exhaustion settle
into my bones.

Dylan

he day my father collapsed onto the floor was
the scariest day of my life. I had no idea what
had happened or what to do. To see such a
strong-willed, imposing, and seemingly
healthy man just hit the floor like that was
terrifying. I thought I had lost my dad before
we could work through the angst and

problems between us. It was an eye-opening
situation, and one that I never want to experience
again.

The days passed. Rochester Industries needed
someone to fill Father’s position. A week after his
hospitalization, with no word on how long he would
be incapacitated, I took over as interim-CEO.

It was a position I worried I was not ready to
handle. Wanting to keep everything running as
smoothly as possible for Father, I worked harder
than ever. Evan was a huge help during the first
few weeks until I got a handle on the business.

I returned Roger and Emily to their jobs. I spent
every evening at the hospital with Father, leaving
little time for Emily and I to work through our own
relationship. She came to the hospital every day
before reporting to work just to check if I needed
anything and to check Father’s progress.

She and I chatted during her visits. She still needed
time to work through everything, I guessed, so I
didn’t push the issue of us being a couple right
away. I missed her terribly though and felt as if I
was lost without her to fall back on.

In a way, I suppose it was her absence that ended
up pushing me that last little bit to make me fully
self-reliant. I changed a lot in the weeks after
taking up position of CEO. For once, I could look
in the mirror and be proud of what was staring back
at me. Don’t get me wrong, for years I was proud
of what I saw in the mirror, but it was only my
cunning and good looks that I was proud of. I
guess, that’s just pure vanity, actually.

During the eighth week of my father’s hospital stay,
he came out of the coma. I got the call at the office
that morning, and I rushed to his side. Since the
second day of his hospitalization, Father had
spontaneous eye movements and some motor
reflexes. Dr. Williams assured me that these were
really good signs that he would come out of the
coma and make a recovery, but he wouldn’t say

how much of a recovery. Of course, every time
Father moved his hands or moaned, or his eyes
moved behind his lids, I was quick to talk to him
and let him know I was there. I encouraged him to
wake up. Sometimes, I retold old stories I
remembered from childhood just to have something
to say so he could hear my voice. A few times, I
thought he responded to the sound of my voice, but
each time, the doctors or staff would shoot down
my hopes and tell me that it was just a reflex.

Dr. Williams assured me that morning that it was
not merely reflexes. Father’s metabolic tests and
the EEG showed that he was waking. He had
opened his eyes on command for the doctor, too.

I rushed to his room and met Dr. Williams, who was
still there. He had brought in one of the best
neurologists weeks earlier to help with Father’s
case, and he stood looking over the results of the
tests he had ordered earlier that morning.

Dr. Williams shook my hand, smiling. “I’m happy
to say that it looks good for a full recovery. He’ll
have to make some life changes after he recovers,
but there is no serious permanent brain damage.”

I tried to thank him, but tears of joy and relief fell
as I looked to my father. He had shrunk during the
eight weeks. He seemed so much smaller and frailer
than before. It broke my heart to see him cut down

so drastically and so ruthlessly. I took his hand in
mine, and he opened his eyes.

“Hi, Dad. Hey, the doctors say you’re going to be
okay.” I leaned over so he could focus on my face.

The right side of his face had a slight droop still,
and I knew that might be permanent. But his eyes
burned with vitality again. He was scared, I could
tell, but nothing like the day he collapsed. He
squeezed my hand and a raspy, breathy moan
escaped.

Dr. Williams stepped to his side and put a hand on
Dad’s shoulder. “Mr. Rochester, don’t try to speak.
You still have the ventilator tube in, and you could
damage your throat. I’ll have a nurse remove that
soon, we just have a few more tests to do first.
Okay? Blink if you understand.”

He blinked, and I noted that his right eyelid did not
close all the way.

I turned to the doctor. “That’s good, right? That
means he’s not just responding randomly.”

Nodding, the doctor patted my arm. “That’s right.
We have to leave the tube in for a while yet,
though, just to be certain. Dr. Havaland is going to
order more tests over the next couple hours and
then we’ll remove the tube if your father is still
doing well enough.”

“How long will he be in here still?” I glanced back
to Dad, his eyes had drifted shut again.

“That’s hard to say. He will need some serious
physical therapy after being in a coma for so long.
His muscles will be very weak, and we have yet to
determine how much muscle use he lost during the
stroke.” He walked to the door with Dr. Havaland.
“We’ll know more tomorrow about all that. I’ll
have someone come in to talk to you about how
you should set him up at home, and of course, he
cannot be alone for a while. Maybe never again.
We’re just not sure yet.”

“I understand. I’ll be there with him, and when I
have to be away, he’ll have a private medical staff
there. I’ll make sure of it.” I smiled and turned back
to the bed as they left.

I took the week off from work and oversaw the
installation of his care suite at his house. I
handpicked the staff who would be responsible for
his care when I had to be away for work. I also set
up the office so that I could successfully run things
at Rochester Industries right from his home,
thereby giving me more time to be there in case he
needed me for anything.

Another week passed, and Dr. Williams and Dr.
Havaland signed the release papers. I was free to
take Father home. They also approved of the staff I

had chosen for his at-home recovery. A therapist
was set to visit the house every day for two weeks
and then the schedule would be reduced as Father
progressed until he didn’t need therapy anymore.

After four weeks, Father was moving around on his
own and was much steadier. His quick wit and
sarcasm were back in full swing, so I had little
doubt about his full recovery. After six weeks, the
doctor said it was okay to let him start looking into
business matters a bit because he was stressing so
badly over not being fully involved.

He would have the slight droop in his face and the
tremors and weakness on his whole right side
indefinitely, I was told. The doctors gave him goals
for lifestyle changes that he scoffed at openly, but I
saw the worry in his eyes after the doctors left, and
I knew he would abide by them. The stroke had
scared him.

At eight weeks, the therapist had finished with him,
stating that she could be of no more help to his
recovery, she had taken him as far as she could. He
was progressing rapidly, and if we needed her, we
could call her back in the future.

Father had often called her Dungeon Mistress,
Mistress of Pain and Torture, and he asked is she
had received a degree in causing physical pain to
her patients. She took it all in stride and with a

lighthearted humor that I admired. When she left
for the last time, Dad even hugged her and thanked
her for putting up with him.

Afterward, he sat in his office at the computers,
admiring the job I had done with the company in
his absence. Sometimes he nodded approvingly,
sometimes he looked mildly shocked. I sat quietly
on the small sofa, just happy that he was back to
being himself.

“Son, I must admit that you have managed the
company quite well. Rochester Industries has
prospered under your leadership.” He nodded. The
slight slur of his slowed speech still bothered me,
but whatever the residual cause, it had not affected
his mind, it seemed, just his speech.

“I did my best. I wanted to do well. Evan played a
monumental part in my success. He’s a little odd
but he’s an excellent employee. He knows all the
ins and outs.” I smiled at Father’s admittance of my
success.

He smiled a little lopsidedly and nodded again.
“That you didn’t just sit there and take all the credit
is a good sign, Dylan. You’ve finally grown up,
matured beyond my deepest hopes.” He sighed and
held out his right hand, palm down. The tremor was
quite marked that day. He let his hand drop to his
lap.

“Are you okay, Dad? Is something wrong?” An
instant replay of his collapse flashed through my
mind and I was on my feet, heading for the desk.

“No, no. I’m all right. As all right as I can be, I
suppose. Sit down, son. We have something to
discuss. It’s a serious matter.”

I blinked and paused, unsure if he really was all
right. After a moment, I sat again. “All right, Dad.
What’s on your mind?”

He gave me a level look. “Son, I know I can’t go
back to running the company the way I did before.
I think it’s high time I retired. Physically, I’m
unable to function in the capacity as CEO;
mentally, I cannot function in the high-stress
environment that is Rochester Industries. Before I
retire though, there are a couple things I must do.
Could you bring Roger and Emily Shandon here
this afternoon?”

Smiling, I nodded. “That should be no problem at
all. What time?”

He shrugged. “As soon as it’s convenient for
them.”

That was new. Father had never worried over
whether something was convenient for anyone that
I knew of.

At three that afternoon, I brought Emily and her

father to the house. They were anxious about the
meeting, but they also wanted to let Dad know they
were happy for his recovery.

“Roger!” Dad motioned him into the office.
“Where is that angelic daughter of yours?”

Roger looked at him as if he had gone mad. “Um,
she’s right there.” Roger pointed to the doorway
just as Emily and I entered.

“Good. Good. Both of you, come sit. I need to
speak with you.”

Roger and Emily sat in front of the desk. Emily
perched nervously on the edge of her seat, while
Roger looked magnificently uncomfortable. Surely,
they were recalling the last time my father had
wanted to speak with them.

“Now, let’s see…” Dad looked to Emily. “You,
young lady. As I understand it, you are the one who
saved my life.”

She stammered and her cheeks reddened. “Well,
sir, I wouldn’t say that. I just made an assessment
and—”

Scoffing, Dad shook his head. “Modesty. You did.
The doctors told me. You also came to the hospital
every day for nearly eight weeks to check on my
son and me, correct?”

She glanced at me and then nodded at him.

“I owe you a debt of eternal gratitude, dear. It’s a
debt I’ll never be able to fully repay, but if you ever
need anything—and I mean anything at all—do not
hesitate to call on me.” His crooked smile was
endearing. The true caring and kindness in his eyes
was moving.

He turned to Roger. “Now, Roger. You’ve given
years of your life to my company and you’ve
always been an exemplary employee. One of a
kind, really. I want to apologize wholeheartedly for
the way I behaved the last time we spoke. I was in
the wrong. I jumped to conclusions, and they were
the wrong ones. I’m sorry, Roger.”

Roger looked even more uncomfortable as he
shifted in his seat unsure how to respond. “Thank
you, sir. I’m just glad you’re recovered and feeling
better.”

“I hereby promote you to Chief of Operations,
Roger. If you would consider working for an ass
such as myself ever again. I can’t blame you if you
tell me to go jump off a bridge, but in my condition,
I would need help to do it.” He grinned again.

Roger sputtered and turned to me, then to Emily,
and back to Father. “Sir.” He looked around again
as if for confirmation he had heard correctly. “Yes,
sir. I would.” He stood and offered his hand to Dad.
They shook, Roger chuckling and Dad nodding.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, cut out the ‘sir’ crap. Call me Philip, or Phil. I
think we’ve been through enough to be on a first-
name basis, eh?”

“Yes, sir, um…I mean, Phil.” Roger took his seat
and rubbed his palms over his thighs as if drying
them.

Emily had her hand over her mouth, tears in her
eyes. I was sure they were tears of joy.

Father pulled a check from under the blotter and
smoothed it with his good left hand. “Now, you,
young lady. I want you to take this money and
further your medical education.” He held it out to
her.

She didn’t move, just shook her head and looked to
me. I shrugged and then nodded for her to take it.

“Sir, I can’t accept that. You don’t owe me—”

“Take the money, Emily. Do not argue with me. I
insist.” He flapped the check at her.

She shook her head and stood tentatively. “I’m
sorry, Mr. Rochester, I just can’t.”

“Oh, you are going to cause me to have another
stroke, young lady.” He looked to Roger and held
the check out to him. “Take this money and put it
in her account, Roger. See that she has anything she

needs between now and her graduation. Would
you?”

Roger nodded and took the check.

“Daddy!” She shook her head. “No.” She reached
for it and I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Emily, really. Father wants you to have it. It’s fine.
Accept it, please. We’re both so grateful for what
you did.” I guided her back to her seat.

“Thank you, Mr. Rochester, but I didn’t do what I
did in the hopes of a payment.” She sounded
disheartened.

“And, that’s all the more reason you should have
it,” Father said in his slow and partially slurred
voice.

Father tired out easily, and Emily noticed. “We
should really be going so you can rest, Mr.
Rochester. You don’t want to overdo it so soon.”

“Yes, I tire quickly these days. Thank you both for
coming to see me.”

Emily stepped behind the desk and hugged Father.
He embraced her with his left arm. “Thank you
again for your kindness and your caring, Emily.” He
smiled up at them as they left the room.

I had never been prouder of my father than I was in
that few short moments. He had admitted to being

wrong, and he had made amends in the only ways
he could. The old him would have brushed off the
firing of two good employees and never given it
another thought. He would have said something
like, the world’s a tough place, so I guess they had
better toughen up.

I just wish it had not taken a life-threatening and
life-altering event to change him.

Emily

aving been not romantically involved with
Dylan over the last few months was my
choice. I thought it wise not to set Dylan on
too many paths at once. I would still be
there after he settled matters with the
interim-CEO position and got things
straightened out with his father’s health. We

just didn’t talk about our relationship during those
few months.

I still loved him. Possibly more than I had before. I
was so proud of the way he handled himself during
his father’s illness. I told him often, too. But I made
sure to keep a certain distance between us.

Also, I didn’t want to cling to a love that only I felt.
I had to be sure he felt the same way. If he were not
in love with me, he would soon have another
girlfriend. That was my logic as far as that goes.
But he surprised me and didn’t acquire another
woman. His social media sites went silent, and the

pictures of him and his cousins were the last posts.

When his father gave me a check, I was shocked to
my soul. I had never dreamed he would do that.
The amount was downright scandalous, and I had a
hard time coming to terms with it. To say the least,
my tuition for the remainder of my university time
was paid for and then some. I shouldn’t have to
worry about needing anything for school.

Giving Daddy’s job back is what I thought we were
most likely going for. Or, maybe, a severance check
to make up for firing him so abruptly and coldly. A
promotion didn’t enter either of our minds.

It seemed to me that Dylan and Philip had
undergone monumental changes in attitude and
behavior since Philip’s stroke. In a way, I guess
they both matured and learned valuable lessons
about what really counts in life.

Finally, a week after our meeting with Mr.
Rochester, Dylan called to ask me to dinner. I
accepted.

He picked me up at seven, and we went to a nice
smaller restaurant where I knew some of the staff. I
was pleased.

Over dinner, Dylan looked at me as if he had never
seen me before. He devoured me with his eyes. It
sent pleasant tingles over my entire body, but it
suppressed my appetite. I had missed him so much.

It was as if I were living only half a life without
him. I knew I never wanted to be without him ever
again. But there was still my schooling to consider.
I had spent too much time, money, effort, blood,
sweat and tears to risk my education. If he loved
me truly, though, I knew he would be there after I
graduated.

“Emily, would you go to my mother’s wedding with
me early next month? I would love for the two of
you to finally meet.” His smile was sweet, his eyes
loving.

“I think that would be very nice. I’d like to meet
her and thank her for having such an adorable and
wonderful son.” I grinned impishly, feeling playful.

“Oh, I’m adorable now, eh?” He laughed. “You
know guys would rather be called sexy, irresistible,
hot, or gorgeous, right?”

“But you’re not guys, are you? You’re Dylan
Rochester, and I say you are adorable…among
other things.”

“And would any of those other things, would you
call me CEO?” Dylan grinned and sat back in his
seat proudly.

“What? Seriously? How did that happen?” Shocked
again, I waited for his reply.

“Dad retired the day he promoted your father. He

also said that I shouldn’t give your job back under
any circumstances. Not even if you begged.” He
grinned, clearly not telling me everything.

“Okay, but why?”

“He said you were to be taken care of as if you
were his daughter. Anything and everything you
need will be paid for.” He sat forward and rested
his elbows on the table.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’ve worked through college
for this long. I’ll continue to work, and if he won’t
let me back at the warehouse, I’ll just work
somewhere else,” I countered stubbornly.

Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “I told him you were as
stubborn as he was. He said I should kidnap you
and not let you out of my sight except to go to
school if you refused.”

“Oh, did he now? I just bet he did.” We both
laughed at the obvious joke.

“He honestly only wants you to finish school
without a worry in the world. He’s sure you’re
going to be a top surgeon someday, and it’s his way
of showing his gratitude. He said any other way
would just come off as being a creepy old man.” He
snorted laughter again.

“Right.” I joined his laughter again. It was nice to
laugh with him again. “Since it means so much to

you both, I’ll take it under consideration.”

He nodded, the laughter fading. “Emily?”

“Dylan?” I grinned at him.

“I love you. You know that, right?” The earnestness
in his face and words took me by surprise.

Momentarily, I regained my composure. “I love
you, too, Dylan. And I have for a long time now.”

He stood and leaned down, kissing me hard. “I’ve
waited a lifetime to hear you say that.” He kissed
me again. “Tell me again.”

“I love you, Dylan.” My voice was trembling and
breathy.

He kissed me again before taking his seat. “Would
you accompany me to the house for some…uh…”
He thought, grinned, and finished with, “for a
nightcap?”

Already fantasizing about being in his arms again, I
nodded, laughing. “So, that’s what they’re calling it
these days, huh?”

Standing, he dropped the money on the table for
the check and the tip, took my hand and started
walking. “Miss Shandon, I will call it whatever you
want me to call it.”

We laughed all the way to the car. He parked at his
house, and I was happy that we weren’t going to his

father’s McMansion on the hill. Not that I was
ashamed, I simply didn’t want to see the knowing
look in his eye as I entered or left. Some things are
private, and I like to keep them that way.

The sex was stellar. Spending the night in his arms
was even better.

The next morning, I left early, feeling more
complete than I had in months. I’m not one to
propagate looking to others for happiness, but when
you find the right one, you’ll just know. It will be a
soul changing experience to be with them. I do
believe in soul mates, and Dylan Rochester is mine.

Emily

everal times throughout the next month, I
awoke to the early morning sunlight filtering
through the curtains at Dylan’s house. It was
a marvelous time in my life. Finally fulfilled, I
was content. Busy, but very content.

We were happy together, and we got along so
well during that time. All couples have their

ups and downs, but we had been on an up for so
long that I wondered when, or if, we would ever
experience a down.

The time drew close to go to his mother’s wedding.
I was nervous for the entire week beforehand. I
worried whether I would fit in with his family, if my
clothes were right, if my attitude was right, I
worried I would not live up to her standards for her
only son. Mothers are notoriously picky about who
they want their children to be with romantically. I
knew this from my own mother.

He told me stories about her house and her life that

made me self-conscious. Apparently, she was rich
in her own right. She came from old money, as they
say. Her third great-grandfather had migrated to the
US without a dime to his name. He had moved to
California early in the state’s history, and he made a
fortune in gold. Later years saw her grandfather
making billions in the movie industry, among other
lucrative businesses that dealt with celebrities. So,
the family fortune flowed to her father, and then to
her as an only child.

Other than owning high-end real estate all over
California and in a few European countries, she
owned a lavish mansion in Beverly Glen, California
that would rival Mr. Rochester’s here in Carlsbad.

“So, you’re telling me that rubbing elbows with
celebrities is hereditary?” I laughed.

He nodded. “Maybe so. But those days are behind
me now, and I can’t say I miss them too much.” He
rolled to his side and pulled me close.

It was Saturday and I didn’t have classes, so I
snuggled into his embrace, relishing the closeness,
the manliness of him wrapped around me. “You
don’t say.”

“Nope.” He nuzzled my ear. “I have all I want right
here.” He kissed my neck.

Soon the petting turned to foreplay. It was awesome
to start the day with sex. It just seemed to make

everything brighter, happier, and more memorable.
And, I admit, I liked sex with Dylan.

Later in the day, I asked more questions about Mila
and the wedding. He answered them, indulging me.
I picked out a shop and we went in to buy my
dress. He sat patiently as I tried them on and
modeled them for him. If there was even a hint of
distaste in his eyes, I would pick another dress.

Finally, dressed in a yellow and tan number in a
light, summery fabric that seemed to float on the
breeze, I saw the look in his eyes that I had been
waiting for.

He smiled and nodded, giving a low whistle. “That
dress is definitely a keeper. Whether you wear it to
the wedding or not, I like it.”

Feeling as if I had just won the lottery, I took the
dress, and the accessories that went with it. A little
tan clutch and matching short-heeled shoes. We
took it back to his place and I hung it proudly on
the hook over his closet door.

“You’re not going to leave it here, are you?” He
made his eyes big.

Giggling, I nodded. “Yeah, silly. I’ll pack it with
your suit so it’s all in one case.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But what if my
other girlfriend takes a liking to it?”

I swatted him playfully. “You wouldn’t dare wear
that on a date with someone else, honey, the yellow
doesn’t complement your pretty jade green eyes.” I
put my hands on the sides of his face and laughed
as I tiptoed to kiss him.

“You’re right. You’re always right. I have terrible
fashion sense.” He laughed heartily.

It was the times like that I loved most, I think. To
be able to laugh so un-self-consciously with each
other bolstered our relationship.

By the time we left for the wedding, we were
practically inseparable. It was difficult to distance
myself from him once my classes were over for the
day. I wanted to run to him and kiss him and tell
him how much I loved him. Some days, I had to
take a step back and reconfirm my resolve to keep
school a strict priority. I only had a year left, after
all.

He drove us to Beverly Glen. The ride was long,
but the scenery was gorgeous. I had seldom been
farther than San Diego to the south and San
Clemente State Beach to the north. When we
entered Beverly Glen, I know I looked like a tourist
with my mouth hanging open and my eyes roving
the scenery.

Mila’s house was, as Dylan had told me, a
sprawling mansion in the middle of a lush green

backdrop. The landscaping was perfect and framed
the home in a way that showcased its warmer,
homier side instead of just how large and grand it
was.

One of the three guesthouses was larger than
Daddy’s house. The other two were, in my opinion,
still much too large to be for temporary guests. I
couldn’t imagine who would rather stay in a
guesthouse than the main house, and surely there
was plenty of room to board visitors inside it.

Giving me time to compose myself, Dylan
thoughtfully took me on a winding path that led to
the backyard where the wedding would take place.
Long pews had been arranged for the guests, and
the best I could estimate was that there would be
close to a hundred people.

“How many people will be here, Dylan?” My
nerves jangled at the prospect of a large crowd of
people I didn’t know.

“Seventy to a hundred. Will’s family is quite large,
too. Mother’s expecting a good turnout. She hired
three photographers for the event and the best
restaurant in California to cater it.” He saw my
distress and laughed, pulling me closer to his side.
“Stop worrying. I don’t know half the people on
Mom’s side and none on Will’s side. You’ll be fine.
You are perfect and she will love you.”

Somehow that didn’t ease my nerves much. What if
he was wrong? “I hope you’re right.”

“I am. Now, it’s time to go meet my mother.” He
fished out his cellphone and dialed a number,
waited for an answer, and announced our arrival.
“She said we are to come through the side door and
straight to her room. She can’t wait to meet you.”
He grinned as excitedly as a toddler on Christmas
morning.

He led me toward the side door where a small
group of people milled about and chatted easily,
laughing with each other. I supposed they were
waiting for the wedding to start. Turned out it was
part of the catering crew on a break while they
waited on the tables to be set up.

I whispered to Dylan as we entered the house,
“Where is the food going to be set up?” I wanted to
know whether to plan on being outdoors or indoors.
I don’t like to eat in front of people, or in open-air
places where I feel as if I’m in a spotlight. I prefer
to eat in a dim setting removed from the main
crowd.

“You don’t have to whisper, you know,” he
whispered, grinning like an imp. “Over here in the
largest room would be my guess.” He pointed and
headed in that direction.

The room was reminiscent of a royal castle’s

ballroom. It seemed impossibly long and wide,
decorated in red and trimmed with gold. Tapestries
that had surely been passed down through countless
generations hung on the enormous walls, huge
chandeliers hung from the ceiling, suspended on
golden chains and adorned with teardrop crystals,
portraits from forgotten eras covered walls, and the
long, dark wooden tables had been polished to a
high sheen. My heart fluttered at all the wealth in
that room alone. I couldn’t fathom inheriting so
much.

“This is absolutely stunning, Dylan. I had no
idea…” I let my voice trail off. It was
overwhelming. I felt as if I had been dropped into a
fairytale.

He chuckled. “It’s a lot, granted. It’s also old. And I
mean, like really, really old.”

I nodded. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it
all. Dylan’s father was rich, Dylan was rich, but I
had no inkling that his mother was equally rich.
That meant Dylan stood to inherit two fortunes.
That made the fact that he wanted to be with me
even sweeter and more profound. If anyone had
told me that someone so rich would want to be with
someone who had struggled her way through
medical school, I would have scoffed and called
that person crazy.

As we moved away from the hall and toward the
wide side stairs, I wondered what the main entrance
looked like. More portraits, some old, but most
seeming to be from the twentieth and twenty-first
centuries, lined the wall as we ascended. I could
see the resemblance to Dylan in quite a few of the
faces. Especially the ones with similar eyes. Those
piercing green eyes were hard to miss.

He stopped on the landing, smiling. “All right. Here
we go. Ready to meet my mother?”

I shook my head and then immediately nodded, my
own smile stretching wider. Not only did he want to
be with me, I was so important to him that he
brought me to meet his mother. I couldn’t question
his feelings at that moment; I knew he loved me
with a wild, crazy, and deep love just as I loved
him. My heart overflowed with love and joy.

Two large, ornate doors stood before us. I marveled
at the intricate designs. The doors were works of
art, not simple, utilitarian panels as doors were in
most houses. Just as he raised his hand to the door,
I stopped him.

“How’s my hair? Are my clothes okay? Do I look
like I just rode in a car for over two hours?” I
fluffed my hair and patted my face.

He laughed and put a hand on either side of my
face. “Emily, you are amazing, and you look

perfect. Stop. Just relax. Trust me, she’s nothing
like you’d think from seeing the house. You’ll be
surprised at how down to earth she is, how
easygoing and kind. So, stop worrying.” He kissed
me, and the tension in my body eased.

“All right. I’m ready.”

He opened the door on the left and stepped inside. I
followed closely. I stood in an honest to god
antechamber. In ancient times, this would have
been where the lady’s maid would have stood as
she awaited her orders, and where she would have
allowed or refused guests to enter. It would also
have been where the lady would have taken
company instead of allowing them into her
bedchamber. At least, I thought I was correct on
the history. Either way, I had never seen an
antechamber to a bedroom, and thought they had
disappeared hundreds of years ago.

Apparently, I had been wrong. It was a whimsical
touch, in my opinion, and it added a bit of grace
and grandeur to the place that no amount of
artwork could have done.

“Mother? I’m here.” Dylan stepped through the
next set of doors slowly.

A very feminine voice replied. “Dylan! Lovely,
lovely. I’m so happy you made it. I was so afraid
with your father’s health and all that you wouldn’t

get to come.”

I stood inside the antechamber a moment longer,
calming my nerves.

They embraced quickly, and then she stepped
around him and our eyes met. She exclaimed with
one hand to her mouth. “Oh, honey! Emily, please
come in. I’ve been waiting to meet you!” She
embraced me as soon as I stepped through the
doorway.

Smiling broadly, she held me at arms’ length. I
could immediately see where Dylan had gotten
most of his looks. And those gorgeous green eyes.
Hers were rimmed with lush, long, naturally black
lashes just like Dylan’s, only hers had a more
feminine slant at the inner corners. Her jet-black
hair was long and thick, straight and shiny. It fell
nearly to her waist.

I was struck by her beauty and had to consciously
make myself not gawk at her. Statuesque, she stood
back letting her gaze travel over me appreciatively.
Her hair caught the sunlight from the large
windows. Blue shimmers appeared throughout her
hair as she moved. She seemed almost unreal she
was so beautiful.

“Ms. Crowder, thank you for inviting me to your
wedding. You are gorgeous, by the way. I’m sorry if
that’s out of line, but I just had to tell you that you

look beautiful.” I was at ease with her instantly. Far
from the reaction I had so worried I would have in
her presence.

“Thank you, Emily, but please, call me Mila. I
won’t be Mila Crowder for much longer anyway.”
She laughed and it lit her face and eyes, doubling
her beauty. She motioned for me to come with her.
“Let’s sit and chat for a while, eh?”

“Sure.” I followed her to a set of cushioned and
very comfortable lounging chairs. Dylan remained
where he stood. I looked at him questioningly.

“Mom, I’m going to go downstairs and find Uncle
Rob and let you two get acquainted.” Dylan backed
toward the doors.

She turned and twiddled her fingers at him. “All
right, dear. Thank you.” She turned to me. “So, you
simply must tell me all about yourself, Emily. Dylan
couldn’t stop talking about you even when we were
at my engagement party. I feel like I already know
you.” She laughed again.

We talked for an hour straight. We laughed and I
was amazed at how easy she was to talk to and be
around. In that respect, she reminded me of Mama.

Sighing, she sat back. “You know, I’m really
impressed with how much my son has matured
recently. He’s really taken a hold on his life,
straightened himself out, and he’s become the man

I always thought he could be.” She leaned forward
and patted my knee with her long, elegant fingers.
“I’m sure it’s all thanks to you, dear. I can see why
he loves you so much. You are a gem, and I believe
he has chosen very well indeed.”

I think I blushed all the way to my toes. “Thank
you, Mila. And, thank you for having such a
wonderful and adorable son. I love him sincerely.
With all my heart, I love him. He’s the best thing
that’s happened to me.”

Smiling, she looked out the window. “Ah, young
love. It is always the strongest, wildest, and purest
love you’ll experience.” Her voice had taken on a
dreamy quality.

“You sound as if you know from experience.” I
didn’t have anyone to talk to about love, and
commitments and other ‘girl topics’ since Mama
passed.

She chuckled lightly. She could even make a
chuckle sound elegant. Nodding, she turned to me
again. “Yes, I speak from experience.”

“Mr. Rochester?” I hoped I wasn’t overstepping
any boundaries.

“Yes, the devilishly handsome Mr. Rochester,
indeed. Mama and Papa were thrilled when I
brought him home to meet them. Everybody loved
him. He was so enigmatic, bringing life to any room

he entered with his charisma and his charm.” She
shook her head, still smiling. “Oh, his charms were
many and greatly powerful. I fell hard and fast for
Mr. Rochester.” She fell silent and her expression
turned stormy for a few seconds.

Fearing I had brought up difficult memories, I
squirmed in my seat, wondering why I had to
always ask questions when I should keep my mouth
shut. Her visage cleared again, and she seemed to
come back to the present.

“Mila, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, no, dear. It wasn’t you. I was just thinking of
imparting some kind of wisdom to you about
working through the tough times that will inevitably
fall your way. They always come in a relationship.
Just think of them as growing pains, honey. They’re
unpleasant while they’re happening, but worth the
effort to struggle through.” She nodded as if that
was what she had to say.

Nodding, I wanted to tell her that Dylan and I
hadn’t had a tough time yet. Then I remembered
our breakup over the party pictures and thought
better of it. We had been through a tough patch.
But we were back together and better than before.
She was right. The rough time had brought Dylan
and I closer, strengthened our relationship.

“See. There it was. I saw it just cross your face.

You understand what I’m saying.” Her green eyes
lit with a smile.

“Yes, I think so. But how do you know if it’s just a
rough time or if it’s and ending time?”

“What an odd question for someone so young and
so in love. Are you two having troubles?” She sat
forward, concern etching her clear features.

“Oh, no! Well, not now. We worked through it and
we’re together again.” There I went sticking my
foot in my mouth. I clamped my mouth shut and
stared at her with a sort of horror in my mind. Had
Dylan told her about the breakup? Had he wanted
her to know?

“Well, I’m glad to hear it, but what happened, if
you don’t mind my asking?” Her brow wrinkled.

“It was me. I overreacted to something…oh, okay,
I’ll just tell you. I’m no good at tiptoeing through
the tulips. I saw pictures of Dylan with other girls
and drinking champagne and I immediately thought
he was cheating on me, so I dumped him. Then Mr.
Rochester had a stroke, and we didn’t work
through it until his father was better.”

After a moment, her brow unfurled, and a knowing
look settled on her face. “It was the pictures from
my engagement party, eh?”

Laughing nervously, I nodded. “I told you I

overreacted. I feel bad for it now, but I didn’t know
what to think then.”

“It’s okay. We are women. Women sometimes do
overreact. It’s easier when the relationship is new,
and you are just getting to know one another. Now,
if that happens again in, say, five years…” she
looked sharply at me, “you let me know and I’ll set
him straight.” She winked and brandished a fist in
the air.

I guffawed. Just thinking of that fine-boned, elegant
hand ever hitting anyone in anger was hilarious. “I
don’t think I ever have to worry about it again. I
know Dylan’s heart pretty well already, and he
would never do anything to intentionally hurt me.”

“Good. Good. I’m happy to hear that. All I know is
that you have wrought a dramatic change in his life,
and it’s been for the good.” She looked at a clock.
“Well, it is about time to prepare for the wedding.”
She stood and we walked to the door together.
“Remember all I told you about young love. It’s not
so passionate and headstrong when you’re older.”
She pulled a funny face.

“I will. Thank you again. And congratulations on
your big day. I wish you all the luck and wild, crazy,
headstrong-ness you can handle.” I hugged her.

She tweaked my chin when we parted. “You are a
good woman, Emily. Persevere in your passion to

become a surgeon. You and Dylan will make a
powerhouse couple if ever there was one. May the
world be your oyster.”

Upon leaving her room, or rather her suite of
rooms, I felt lighter, happier, and more sure of
myself. I wandered downstairs and found Dylan
talking with a group of men. It was time to get our
suitcases and get ready. I didn’t want to be rushed.

After short introductions, he agreed, and we went
to one of the guesthouses to dress. “I thought a
little privacy might be nice.” He motioned to
include the house.

Snorting laughter, I rolled my eyes. “Like there
would not be plenty of privacy in the big house?
Please, that place is enormous.” I laughed, still
amazed at its size.

Dylan

he wedding was a masterpiece in motion.
Mother definitely had talent at planning big
events. I was happy that she and Emily had
hit it off so well. Emily was calm and joyous
throughout the wedding and the after-party. I
wanted to give her a wedding day that would
rival Mother’s, show her off to the entire

world, and yell from the rooftops that she was the
love of my life.

I didn’t know how she would feel about all that, so
I kept my fantasy to myself.

The day after the wedding, we left to go back home
and to get back into our normal routines. Emily
seemed invigorated since talking with my mother.
Maybe it was just nice for her to have another
mother-figure to talk to about whatever elusive
things women talk about when men are out of the
room. I don’t know, but it was nice to see that she
had regained her old joie de vivre.

The days turned to weeks turned to months, and
before long, Emily’s graduation was looming right
in front of us. She didn’t know it, but I had an
enormous surprise for her after graduation. I had
taken to spoiling her as often as she would allow,
but she never let me do it enough.

She didn’t want to become spoiled and pampered
was her reasoning. I countered by telling her that
she could never become spoiled, but I seriously
wanted to try. She always laughed me off and told
me I was a goof.

Rochester Industries prospered and times were
good. My father’s health improved, and his speech
cleared immensely. I had talked of my plan with
him, and at other times, with Mother. They both
agreed to help make it a memorable occasion while
keeping my secret for months on end.

Emily and Mother talked often on the phone. She
loved my family and they loved her. My life
couldn’t have been fuller or more fulfilling. Well,
there was one thing that would have made it
better…

Emily

raduation was a big deal. No, who am I
kidding? Graduation was a massive deal for
me. I was so excited and nervous, I thought
I would puke before the ceremony. Dylan,
his father, and his mother, along with her
husband all stood with Daddy.

As I crossed the stage and took up my

diploma, and heard the dean giving my GPA, and
other credentials, I felt like I was in a dream. I
turned to Daddy and waved the diploma at him. I
could see his pride and feel his love across the
room.

Dylan put his fingers between his lips and whistled
loudly and then pumped a hand in the air as he
yelled, “I love you, Emily!”

This was met with laughter and applause as I exited
the stage.

After the ceremony, he ran to me and swept me up
into his arms, swinging me around. “I’m so happy
for you, Em! How’s it feel to graduate finally?” He
beamed with pride…and something else I couldn’t
quite place.

“Excellent. I didn’t think today would ever get
here, but here it is.” I brandished the diploma again,
giggling.

Daddy hugged me tight. “I’m so proud of you. Your
mother is, too, you know.” A tear slipped down his
cheek, and I hugged him tighter and nodded.

“So, Dylan has planned this little party to celebrate,
honey. We’re all going to be there along with a few
other people. I’m just going to follow behind you
two.” Daddy smiled and winked at Dylan.

“What? A party?” No one had mentioned a
celebratory party. “And what was that wink about,
Daddy?” I turned to glance at Dylan who rolled his
eyes to the side to avoid making eye contact with
me.

“He’ll drive you there now. It’s going to be a night
to remember, honey.” Daddy’s smile turned to a
mischievous grin and he turned to leave.

Dylan took my hand. “He’s right, you know. A
night to remember.” He kept his eyes straight
ahead.

“All right, I’ll play along, but if someone puts a
crème pie in my face in public, I’m not responsible
for my reaction.” I giggled as he hurried me out the
side door.

His parents took turns congratulating me quickly

and giving me hugs outside the car. Dylan finally
stepped in and opened my door. “Come on
everybody, you act like you’re not going to see her
in thirty minutes again.” He gave his mom a raised-
eyebrow look, and she nodded.

“Oh, of course, dear. We’ll see you there, Emily.”
She patted my arm as Will guided her to their car.

We arrived at Mr. Rochester’s place, and the front
lawn sported two huge white canopies. Underneath
were tables and chairs. The smell of food drifted to
me as I stepped out of the car.

“Dylan! This is not a small party.” I looked to my
clothes self-consciously.

He shook his head and took my arm. “Nope, not at
all. Don’t worry about your clothes or your hair or
your makeup.” He stopped just shy of the canopies
where dozens of people milled about. He kissed me.
“Follow me, please.”

His eyes were different somehow. I couldn’t
determine what was going on, but something told
me it was not just a simple celebratory party for my
graduation.

He walked to a small cleared area at the other side
of the canopies where there was a microphone and
unlit lights strung across a metal frame overhead.
The frame extended down on each side of us. In the
dim light, I couldn’t make out the shape of the

lights.

Dylan tapped the microphone and the feedback
buzzed loudly, drawing everybody’s attention.
“Hey folks, if I could get your attention please. I
would like to introduce to you Dr. Emily Shandon.
Nice round of applause for all her hard work and
perseverance.” He rallied the crowd to a booming,
echoing applause and then quieted them.

All of a sudden, he dropped to one knee in front of
me, grinning up, he produced a small black box
from his pocket. Just then, the lights turned on, and
the crowd oohed and ahhed. I looked up to see the
lighted shape of wedding bells, two doves, and
roses that trailed to the ground on either side.

My heart skipped a beat as I looked back to Dylan
who had flipped the box open to reveal an
engagement ring with a diamond roughly the size of
a Volkswagen on it.

“Emily, will you do me the honor of becoming my
wife? Will you marry me and make me the happiest
man in the world?”

This time, Daddy whistled and clapped from a few
yards away.

“Yes, Dylan. Yes, I’ll marry you and be the
happiest woman in the world.” Tears ran unchecked
down my cheeks as he slid the ring on my finger.

Standing, we kissed. It was the first kiss of the rest
of our lives.

THE E ND

E XTRACT FROM THE BOOK:

IT’S MY TURN TO LOVE YOU

E MMA QUINN

“ O

Felicity

High school, end of the school year.

h, my God, I can’t even believe how cute
Freddie is!” my best friend, Lisa, declared with

the bright shining eyes of someone in the first
throes of love.

At least, I assumed that was what that look was. It
wasn’t something that I had ever seen in real life
before. Only in movies, or in my imagination when
I was secretly reading romance novels.

“Look at these flowers.”

I forced a smile on my face, even if it was hard for
me to make myself appear happy. It wasn’t that I
didn’t want Lisa to find someone that made her
happy, of course, I wanted that for my best friend. I
had never seen her so bright and shining before, it
was lovely to see… but I couldn’t stop the bitter
snake of jealousy from coursing through my body. I
was utterly consumed by the green-eyed monster
and I couldn’t swallow it down.

I guess I always assumed that me and Lisa were in
the same boat. That we were too geeky to be
noticed by the guys at high school and that we
would bloom when we hit college later on in life.
That was always the excuse that I gave myself
when another year passed and I hadn’t even been
kissed, never mind anything else, while all of the
other people in our school class progressed and
explored one another, we remained behind
everyone, stuck in time.

But now, Lisa had been kissed. She had done more
as well. She had nabbed a really cool and sweet guy
who made her feel incredibly special, while I was
the only one left behind.

Never before had I felt so young and
inexperienced. Never before had I felt so lost.

“That’s really great.” I wasn’t about to dampen
Lisa’s happiness with my own misery. No way. That
was my problem, nothing to do with her. “He is so
good to you.”

“I know, I know,” she swooned. “And I’m so glad
that Freddie is going to a college nearby when he
graduates. I wouldn’t be able to cope with him.
And I really don’t want for us to end up as one of
those statistics who can’t weather college. I think
we can do it. I believe in us.”

I didn’t want to disagree with her, even if I wasn’t

totally sure that they could survive. It didn’t seem
right to slap my opinion in there anyway. I wasn’t
exactly the expert in love. My only romantic
feelings had never been reciprocated and they were
so embarrassing that I didn’t want to talk about
them anymore. Lisa had heard me moan about this
enough…

“Oh!” She stared at me as if she could read what I
was thinking even without me saying it. “Not that I
think distance and college has to destroy anything.
If you’re feelings are strong enough. Which of
course, you know, yours are. Or at least they would
be if you were a couple.”

I rolled my eyes and snorted with laughter. A bitter
laughter that didn’t exactly come out as I wanted it
to. “There isn’t ever going to be any kind of worry
about that, is there? Because Adam is with Sexy
Giselle and they will probably be going to college
together.”

I wanted to sound blasé as I declared that, but it
definitely didn’t come across. But it was hard for
me to discuss anything to do with Adam and his
girlfriend. It hurt my heart to think of him giving
any of himself to anyone else other than me.

Once upon a time, only six months ago, me, Adam,
and Lisa were the three musketeers. Me and Lisa
because of our friendship formed in school and

Adam because he was her next door neighbor. It
had always been the three of us for years. It didn’t
even matter that he was a year older than us, we
shared interests in movies, books, TV shows, and
fun, so our friendship could survive so much. I
loved our little gang. We were friends for life and
helped each other through everything. Family
dramas, school disputes with other people, any
upset…

Of course, the friendship was something different
for me as well, because it didn’t take long for me to
fall head over heels for Adam. I didn’t notice it
coming, I wasn’t totally sure when it started, but
before I knew it, I was thinking about him all the
time. Every minute of the day was utterly
consumed by him. So much so that I had to confess
it to Lisa.

Then we spent a lot of time talking about how we
were meant to be and how the moment would come
when me and him would end up together in a happy
ever after. Lisa didn’t even mind, she was just
happy for us and encouraged us to get together.
Even more so when she started hanging out with
Freddie and that rapidly took a romantic turn…

But just before I thought that me and Adam were
finally about to take that leap, Sexy Giselle swept
him off his feet and stole him from me. She came in
with her endlessly long legs and perfect blonde hair

and breasts to die for and took him away.

I could never compete. Not with a girl like that. She
was a vision. Basically, a model. Someone so much
better than Plain Jane me. My brown hair was like
a bird’s nest at times, I was much too curvy to look
like a model, I was too small for someone like
Adam… it killed me how much Sexy Giselle looked
good on his arms. But that was because he was
model-like as well. Tall, dark, and handsome,
chiseled from stone. An absolute God, which was
why I adored him. I couldn’t stop myself from
falling head over heels. I stood no chance with him
but adored him anyway. It was a hopeless situation.

“Anyway.” I shook my head and tried to stop the
tears from falling. “It will probably be better with
both of them gone because I won’t have to see
them anymore. I’m going to miss the way that we
all hang out together, but it will give me a chance to
get over him.”

“And that’s what you want?” Lisa asked me
curiously. “To get over him?”

“Yes,” I snapped back defiantly. “It’s time, isn’t it?
For me to get over my feelings for Adam and to
move on. Seeing you so happy with Freddie makes
me want that as well…”

But even as I said those words, I knew that they
weren’t accurate. I couldn’t even begin to imagine

myself with anyone else, I was so utterly convinced
that Adam was the one for me, I really didn’t desire
another guy anywhere near me… but I needed to
save face.

“Are you sure? Because there is something that I
might need to tell you…” She bit down on her
bottom lip and shielded her face under my intense
gaze. Of course, I wanted to now whatever secret
she had for me. I would have been an idiot not to
listen to it, but I didn’t want to have to beg her.
Instead, I wanted her to just tell me already. “Well,
Adam and Giselle broke up.”

Oh my God. My heart leaped and sunk all at once. I
wasn’t quite sure what the hell to think about that. I
was happy, I couldn’t help myself from being
happy, but it freaked me the hell out as well
because when Adam had a girlfriend there was
nothing that I could do about it, but now… well, if
they were broken up then the possibilities were
endless.

“This might be your last chance to say something,
Felicity,” Lisa declared as if that thought wasn’t
circling violently through my mind at the speed of
light. “And I think that you should do it because
Adam will be going off to college soon and you
might not get a chance again.”

“That’s too much pressure.” I gripped on to my

stomach, the sickness starting to swirl. “I don’t
think I can do it, Lisa. What if he rejects me? It will
be so awful.”

“Worse than always wondering ‘what if?’” She
cocked her eyebrow at me. “I think it will be a
million times worse for you if you say nothing and
you never get to find out how he feels about you.
Even if he rejects you, well… at least you will
know, and you’ll be able to move on properly. Then
maybe you will be able to find a nice guy for you.”

Urgh, she didn’t get. Even if she knew that it was
such an issue for me, she didn’t know how much it
would crush me if Adam turned me down. I didn’t
think that was something that I could ever recover
from. I would never let anyone else in again…

But that didn’t mean I shouldn’t tell him because I
suppose asking myself ‘what if?’ forever wouldn’t
be a whole lot of fun either. I just didn’t know what
the hell I should do, and it scared me. My brain was
racing at the speed of light, sending me a little wild.

“I will be here for you no matter what happens,”
Lisa reassured me. “Even if this doesn’t work out
as well as you want it to… you will always have
me.”

“Mmm, yes, thank you, Lisa. I know. But I don’t
know what I’m going to do yet.”

“We will work it out together.”

I would always have her… when she wasn’t with
Freddie. But then I couldn’t exactly blame her for
wanting to be with her boyfriend. I would have
been exactly the same too if I had Adam. And who
the hell knew, maybe I would have him soon
enough. Either that or I would lose him forever. But
I suppose that was a risk that I needed to take if I
wanted my answers.

“ G

Adam

raduation!” I called out at the top of my lungs
in celebration as we all chucked out mortar

boards in to the air to celebrate finally being done
with high school. “We are done!”

Everyone was cheering out happily because much
as high school had been fun, we were all restless
and needed a change in our lives. We needed to
step out of our comfort zone and do something new.
And I was about to change my life completely. Film
school in New York City was going to be an
incredible change from the small town life that I
had become accustomed to, and I couldn’t wait for
it. To really test myself and see who I could
become.

My friends around me jumped around and hugged
me, they were all in the happy mood just as I was.
Of course, it was a little dampened by the string of
dirty looks that I was getting from Giselle, but I had
to just ignore them. One day, she would see that I

did the right thing about breaking up with her rather
than agreeing to marry her. There was no way that
me and her could have worked long term. It was
fine in high school, we had fun over the last few
months, but I couldn’t be her husband. Especially
since she was going to college in a different state to
me. She would be exploring the sun in California
while I was doing my own thing.

We didn’t need to be constantly tied to one another
when we had so much else going on. We didn’t
need to be worrying about seeing one another and
working our schedules around each other when we
had so many new things to explore, so many new
people to meet. I was sure that she would be dating
some tanned hunk and forget all about me in an
instant.

“Giselle is fuming,” someone yelled to me as we
started to leave the stage. “She said that you won’t
even give her the summer. What the fuck is that
about, Adam?”

I wasn’t even exactly sure who yelled that at me, so
I definitely wasn’t about to answer them. Why me
and Giselle broke up right now was our business
alone, and my summer belonged to me. What I was
going to do with it was my decision. I sure as shit
didn’t need to answer to anyone. I ignored the
comments and continued to get swept along with
the crowd.

“Adam!” All of a sudden, I heard a voice that I did
want to hear in among everyone else. It belonged to
one member of my best friend crew. Felicity. Her
and Lisa took up all of my free time when I wasn’t
with Giselle, even before I had a girlfriend because
we were all so similar. It was just a shame that both
girls were a year younger than me and wouldn’t be
leaving for college with me, to share that life
changing experience with me. Then again, it would
be good to know that they would always be at
home when I visited, in the same place, at least for
the next year. Having one constant in a life full of
change had to be good for me. “Adam!”

I just about managed to break free from the crowd
to envelop my friend in a hug. God, Felicity was
adorable. A sweet, raven haired, girl next door type
with a sparkling personality that shone above the
crowd. She was shy though, coy, and she didn’t see
just how incredible she truly was. I tried to tell her,
and Lisa did too, but it didn’t seem to get through.

“I watched you graduate,” she muttered in to my
chest so that her voice was all muffled. “You were
awesome up there. And you looked so happy as
well. Like you are loving this.”

“I am happy.” Now, this was someone who really
gave a shit about me and who I wanted to share all
of my plans with. I actually couldn’t wait. “I have
something to tell you.”

“You do?” She lifted those beautiful brown eyes of
hers up to meet mine. “I do too.”

I tugged her in to the corner of the hall way where
we could talk in peace and grinned at her. “Do you
want to go first, or should I?” I watched intently as
she parted her lips, but a redness stained her cheeks
which I knew meant that she was going to take a
little while to get whatever it was out. “Actually, I
will go first because I am just too excited. I can’t
hold back.”

She nodded and pressed her lips tightly together to
keep herself silent. She wanted to hear me which
was one of the best things about her. She was the
best listener ever and so interested in anything that
I had to say. I still sucked in a couple of breaths
before I started though.

“I have been offered an internship over the
summer, Felicity. In New York City. It’s with one of
the biggest film companies in the country and they
chose me out of all their applicants.”

She didn’t look like she knew what the hell to say.
She was clearly in shock. It made me laugh because
she looked like she was in a happy place of shock
on my behalf. She knew how determined I was,
how ambitious I was, she knew what this was going
to mean to me.

“I know, right?” I chuckled. “I leave at the end of

the week, which puts me in a great position for
college because I will have some work experience
under my belt, which might lead to more, I might
even end up with a permanent job there while I
study. That’s what I’m hoping anyway. And I will
get to know the city as well, so it isn’t going to be a
massive shock.”

“So… wait.” Felicity slid her eyes closed in shock.
“You aren’t going to be here for the summer?
You’re leaving already at the end of the week?”

“Yes, and I think I might need to, considering I
broke up with Giselle today. I don’t know if you
heard about it, but it was brutal, and she is really
mad at me.”

“I heard, yes.” She nodded. “So, you’re going to
escape.”

I pulled her against me in a teasing head lock and
laughed. “Don’t say it like I am running away. It
isn’t that at all. I am moving away from this small
town in to bigger and better things. New York is
calling me, and I have to get out of here. I need to
be there. This internship is going to be something
else. It’s going to transform my life. It’s going to set
me on the right path towards my film career and I
just can’t wait for it.”

After a brief pause, Felicity’s face broke out in to
her trade mark winning smile. “I am really happy

for you as well, Adam. You deserve all of this. You
are so lucky to get this internship, but of course,
you deserve it. of course, they are going to pick you
out of everyone because you’re amazing. And I’m
sure you are going to love New York…”

See, this was why I wanted to tell my best friends
first. Because I knew that they would understand
me and be happy for me. I knew that out of
everyone, Felicity would get it. The look on her
face was one of pure joy on my behalf.

“You know, there is a graduation party tomorrow
night,” I said to her on impulse. “You should come
with me. You and Lisa. I’m going to need all of the
help that I can get. Giselle will be here, and I am
sure that she’s going to kick my ass. I would much
rather just have fun.”

“But the party is just supposed to just be for people
graduating, isn’t it?” She asked me, sounding a little
nervous by the prospect but I suppose that made
sense because she was so reserved and shy. She
wasn’t going to be keen to be around a bunch of
people that she didn’t know. “I don’t know if me
and Lisa will be invited to it.”

“Trust me, everyone is invited. You are going to be
my dates anyway.”

“Your dates?” She mused. “Me and Lisa? To
protect you from Giselle…”

“And to have fun with me as well. Possibly for the
last time. Since I am going soon…” I pouted out my
bottom lip playfully. “You know, leaving for New
York and all of that…”

“Well, I suppose we better come then, hadn’t we?”
she chuckled. “If this is going to be our last chance
to spend any kind of time with you. I don’t want to
miss out on that. But I do have to warn you that
Lisa might already be Freddie’s date, so you may
well be stuck with me.”

“I can handle that! In fact, that might be even
better. We don’t want to be third and fourth wheels
to the Lisa and Freddie show. Now that is
something else.”

“True,” she laughed. “They are terrible, and he
isn’t even going anywhere. Not like you…”

I hugged her again and we both started jumping for
joy. I couldn’t wait to get going to New York, but I
was also really looking forward to one last night of
crazy fun with my friends. All of my friends, but
mostly my two best friends who had made high
school such a fun time for me. Felicity especially,
we always had a great bond. We needed an
awesome night to have a final goodbye before
everything changed all over again. I would see
Felicity again for sure, I wasn’t going to become
one of those people swallowed up by college life

and New York City, but it was going to be different
for sure.

“ S

Felicity

o, wait, you didn’t tell him anything?” Lisa
stared at me with wide eyed shock. “But I

thought that the moment after graduation was the
perfect time… but you backed out.”

“I didn’t back out,” I insisted. “It wasn’t like that.
He told me that he’s going to New York at the end
of the week, so there doesn’t seem to be any point
in telling him…”

“Why?” She threw her hands in to the air in
frustration. “Why wouldn’t you just say it already?
You already know that it’s going to be a long
distance thing…”

“But I assumed that we would at least have the
summer to solidify things first.” I shrugged
helplessly. “I didn’t think that he would be just
going. Now, it feels helpless. Like I don’t have a
chance. I won’t be able to ask myself ‘what if?’
because I left it too late in the first place.”

Lisa pursed her lips out at me, staring me down.

She was judging me exactly, more wishing that
things could be different on my behalf. “I don’t
know, Felicity, it still feels to me like you should
have told him. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up
planning his trip so early…”

“He has that internship that we both know he
desperately wanted,” I reminded her. “I couldn’t
take that away from him. This is me doing the
selfless thing. You know what they say? If you love
someone then you have to let them go…”

“No one says that.” Lisa shook her head
determinedly. “No one with any sense. Anyway,
you look incredible tonight. You are going to blow
him away at this graduation party. I bet he will end
up being the one remaining behind to ask you out.
Wouldn’t that be wild…?”

“Have you seen his ex-girlfriend?” I shot out while
eyeing my reflection critically in the mirror. “If that
is the sort of woman that he goes for then I don’t
stand a chance in hell.”

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Document Outline

Trust me, my love
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
Extract from the book: It’s my turn to Love you

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Trust me, my love Emma Quinn

Document Outline