Accept Me
Accept Me
Copyright © 2014 J.L. Mac
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission of the author.
Cover design by:
Robin Harper-Wicked By Design
https://www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper
Edited by:
Erin Roth-Wise Owl Editing
https://www.facebook.com/erinrotheditor
Formatted by:
Angela McLaurin-Fictional Formats
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
Images copyright
Used under license from Shutterstock-www.shutterstock.com
For Jo and Damon.
For what they represent.
For what we all dream of.
Where to begin? It’s difficult to believe that over a year ago, while driving in holiday traffic, the story of Jo and Damon was born. In the span of a year, I became a bestseller, I made friends and lost a few, I was divorced and found love all over again, I moved, I laughed, I cried (a lot) but I was never alone through it all.
So many family, friends, bloggers, and readers have been on this crazy ride with me and I can’t thank you all enough for your support, honestly, enthusiasm, and occasional bullying (I needed it).
First and foremost, I must thank my editor, Erin Roth. She has been the voice of reason when I was unreasonable. Thank you for working so hard, for seeing things through, for being pushy, for not accepting anything less than my best and for your brilliant editing ability. You are an invaluable asset to my books. I’d be lost without you.
https://www.facebook.com/erinrotheditor
I must sing the praises of my ultra-talented graphic designer and friend, Robin Harper. Your skill, insight, and taste with the covers of my books are unparalleled. I can’t thank you enough for your hard work and kind words. I still have a lady crush on you.
https://www.facebook.com/WickedByDesignRobinHarper
To Christine Estevez, the queen of blog tours and cover reveals. You are the master of efficiency. I envy you. Thank you for working so hard and being so ready to take the reins every time it’s cover reveal or touring time. I’ll always put my books in your trust worthy hands to spread the word and promote. On behalf of all the authors you work with, thank you for everything.
https://www.facebook.com/ShhMomsReading
Heather Halloran! My dear friend/blogger who teaches me a little more about resiliency every day. You have an exceptional eye for a good story and the guts to call out total shit. Thank you for being you and for the regular insults that make me smile even when I don’t feel up to it. I love you, lady.
Angela McLaurin, my sweet southern friend and skilled formatter! Thank you for your exquisite talent for making my books pretty! You are the only formatter that I could ever trust my work to. You are the formatting fairy. I know I’m in good hands with you in my arsenal of book production pros.
https://www.facebook.com/FictionalFormats
I must thank my agent, Marisa Corvisiero for her killer instincts and for having faith in my work. You have drive and ambition that most would envy. Thank you for working hard to make sure that the world may have the opportunity to stumble across my books.
http://www.corvisieroagency.com/
As odd as it may seem, I must thank life for being so unpredictable and perfectly screwed up. It’s only through failure that I learn to savor how sweet success truly is. Many thanks to my children, family and husband. You put up with my daily nonsense. There is no excuse for that except that you love me.
Finally, I want to thank my readers for reading the stories that I dream up. My characters come to life only through you.
I tried. I tried so hard. I thought he would be enough to distract me from my life and I thought I would be enough for him, but I was wrong. I was naïve. I guess I’m still naïve.
My parents would kill me if they had any idea what has become of me here in Las Vegas. When I told them that I dreamed of being a showgirl, they scolded me and said they wouldn’t hear of it. To a working class Christian family, my aspirations were unthinkable—all those years of dance lessons and I wanted to become a showgirl when I could settle down and teach dance to five year olds in Podunk, Kansas? Ridiculous. It just wasn’t what I wanted. In those showgirls, in that dancing, I saw nothing but glamour; I saw impressive-looking women with a real sense of confidence. And I wanted to be one of them. I craved their expertise, their life. Staying on the farm would be the quickest way for me to end up leading an extraordinarily boring life as some farmer’s wife. I’d likely have a few kids and end up not having a story to tell. I’d have no adventures to relive. I’d be sitting on my porch at eighty years old wondering why I didn’t just go for it. I don’t want to regret my life. I knew I had to go after my dream even if failure awaited me.
I never expected any of this. I had goals. I never expected Edward and I definitely never expected Damon. I never expected to be faced with this kind of decision.
I love him despite my circumstance. I loved him from the moment the nurse handed me my beautiful baby boy, but the darkness that he reminds me of is unbearable. I’m so very thankful for that he looks like my father, because if he looked anything like Edward I’m afraid I would despise him. I hate myself for even thinking it, but I’m not prepared to face what has happened. I’m not ready for this kind of responsibility. Not yet. Maybe not ever. It’s one of the reasons that I know I have to do this. I have to give him a chance.
Edward’s mother seems like a really nice woman. Beatrice. Even though I know very little about her, she’s been so supportive of me in all of this. She made sure I had money in my pocket, food in my stomach, and a doctor to care for my unborn child. I never felt like she was judging me. She never asked questions and I never explained. She’s been so willing to take care of me; I’m sure she’ll take care of my son. I
know
she will love my child. There’s no need for her to know how or why all of this has happened. I just need her to watch over him, protect him from the world, and watch him grow into what I hope will be a good man. A caring man. A man like my dad. I hope he won’t hate me for letting him go. He doesn’t have a chance in hell if I keep him. I’m just a stupid, ruined girl from Kansas. I’m damaged goods. I have nothing to offer my baby. Damon needs more than me. It will break my heart, but I happily accept whatever regret awaits me if it means he has the things that I can’t provide.
I look down at the dark-haired angel in my arms and watch my tears splash down onto his blue cotton outfit. His tiny hand tightens around my finger and it’s almost like he’s consoling me. It only makes me sob even harder. “I’m so sorry,” I whimper and lift him to place a kiss on his forehead. He may never understand, but I hope and pray that he can accept what I have to do.
Maybe someday I’ll accept all of this too.
