Maybe This Time (26 page)

River spends
every second weekend with us, and we love having him here. Last
month Reid proposed, and, of course, I accepted. We moved into a
bigger house, and Ryan moved right next door. It’s the perfect set
up, and the best of both worlds.

Reid looks at
the TV. “Again?” he asks me, frowning.

I laugh again.
“Fine, you guys choose something, then.”

“How about we
go out?” Reid offers.

“Sounds good,”
I say, looking down at River. “You wanna go to the arcade?” I ask
him, knowing it’s his favourite place to go.

His scream of
happiness is all the answer we need.

“I’m gonna
kick your butt in air hockey,” I boast to Reid.

“You wish,
baby,” he says, chuckling.

“Let’s go get
Ryan to come with us.”

“Of
course.”

We walk out of
the house, each of us holding one of River’s hands.

Sneak peak at
Ryan’s book! Coming in 2014

by

Chantal Fernando

When she walks
in, I’m surprised. No, I’m shocked. I never thought I’d see the day
that she walked back into this bar, but here she is. Her curly
brown hair frames her round face, and her blazing green eyes are
narrowed in anger. Even angry, she's the most beautiful woman I’ve
ever been in the presence of. My gaze can’t help but wander down
her shapely body. She’s stacked in all the right places, and I
should know, I’ve tasted every inch of her body many times over.
She steps in front of me and purses her lips.

“You had no
right, Ryan,” she seethes, her voice low and shaking.

“I had every
right,” I reply calmly, pretending this woman has no effect on me.
When in truth, she owns me, body and soul.

Only she
doesn't know it.

“I’m not yours
anymore,” she says, her voice losing its edge. She sounds resigned,
tired. I don’t like it one bit. I prefer her anger.

“I had you
first, you'll always be mine,” I say with a shrug.

She shakes her
head. “Leave him alone, Ryan, I’m serious. You can’t keep doing
this to me.”

I lean in a
little closer so I can smell her familiar scent. “Tell him to leave
you alone then, Taiya.”

“So, you get
to fuck anything with a skirt, but a good man can’t even look my
way?” she asks, gritting her teeth.

“Yeah, that
pretty much sums it up.”

I don’t expect
the slap. But I should have. Taiya always did have a fiery temper
on her.

“Fuck you,
Ryan, stay out of my life,” she spits out before storming off.

I watch her
walk away from me.

My wife.

I should be
used to it by now, but it still hurts.

It always
hurts.

H
e was
right. It made no difference whether it was 6 months or 6
years.

I couldn’t
undo what had been done. I couldn’t change the future. I couldn’t
even predict it.

It was one
night.

One night when
everything changed.

It was so much
more than just the betrayal.

It was the
Tragedy.

The
Deaths.

The
Murders.

But it was
also that feeling.

That feeling
of falling.

I
finish getting ready with fifteen minutes to spare. I look in the
mirror to make sure everything’s in place. I’m nothing special to
look at. I’m definitely no Megan, my best friend. I have naturally
olive skin from being quarter Filipino on my mom’s side, and
slightly almond shaped eyes from that side, too. Everything else is
from Dad’s Irish/Scottish side. My dad’s six foot, my mom’s a tiny
five-foot-nothing. Luckily, I’m a good in-between.

I’m not naive
in thinking that I’m popular based on looks or extra-curricular
activity. I’m book smart, but not so much so that I’m socially
awkward. I’ve made the popular list by association. My best friend
is the head cheerleader, and my hot boyfriend is captain of our
basketball team.

I take one
more look in the mirror. I’m good to go.

I open my
bedroom door and virtually run into my parents who are standing
just outside. They have that look on their face, like whatever
they’re about to say is imperative and has to be taken seriously.
My dad’s arm is wrapped around Mom’s shoulders. Emily, my
nine-year-old little sister, is nowhere to be seen. They take a
step forward, united, causing me to take a step back.

I’m officially
worried.

They keep
taking steps forward, until I’m forced to sit on the edge of my
bed. I look up at my parents. They finally let go of each other,
and sit on either side of me.

Dad blows a
big breath out and shakes his head. “Honey, your mother and I have
something we need to tell you.”

I look at my
mom, she looks away. She’s nervous.

Shit.

Dad continues,
“We figure since you’re graduating in two weeks, and you’ve been
eighteen for a few months now … well, I guess we both decided it
was about time we tell you something very important.”

I’m mentally
scanning my brain for what the fuck this could be.

I’m
adopted.

I knew it. I
was always different, less Asian looking than I should be, and I
don’t know where my nose comes from. No one in my family has this
nose. Oh, God. Who are my birth parents? And Emily, what about her
… is she adopted too?

“Mikayla?” Dad
interrupts my raging thoughts.

Shit.

I close my
eyes, hoping that by doing so, it might take away the sting of what
he’s about to tell me. “Are you listening to me?”

I nod once,
eyes still closed.

“Mikayla.”
There’s a long pause. “Boys have a penis…”

My eyes dart
open. My dad's stifling a laugh, my mom’s face is beet red with
held in laughter. I’m glaring at them with narrowed eyes, waiting
for my pulse rate to decrease.

I would have
bet a million frickin dollars they were about to tell me something
life altering.

I want to junk
punch my own dad.

I know he’s
behind this shit. This is totally something he would do. My mom,
she doesn’t have it in her to think of something like this.

As I’m about
to stand, so I can turn and face them both, Emily comes running
into the room with her life size Justin Bieber cardboard cut out.
She’s hiding behind it, cackling to herself. Then she breaks out in
song, waving the cut out in front of her.

“And I was
like penis, penis, penis, ohhhhh! Like penis, penis, penis, nooooo!
Like penis, penis, penis, ohhhh! I thought you’d always be mine,
mine!”

I’m trying so
hard to hold in my laughter, in case this is one of those
situations where it’s funny for us, but inappropriate for a
nine-year-old girl.

I look to my
parents and wait for their reaction.

Mom giggles,
and Dad breaks out in a weird dance, which I’m pretty sure is
supposed to be something resembling ‘The Dougie’, and starts to
belt out, “You know you love me, I know you caaaare!”

I can’t help
but laugh. I start down the stairs to wait for Megan and James,
shaking my head at their craziness. Of course, they all follow,
Justin Bieber cut out and all, and keep singing, at the top of
their lungs, mom included.

“And I was
like penis, penis, penis, ohhhhh! Like penis, penis, penis, nooooo!
Like penis, penis!”

The front door
swings open.

“What the
fuhhhhhh—” Megan’s words die in the air when she sees Emily—and the
Biebs—behind me.

James
scratches his head. “Are you guys singing about penises? To Justin
Bieber?”

They all start
laughing and snorting. I love my insane family.

After a good
ten minutes of photos, and my dad retelling the humiliation of the
shit they just pulled on me, we’re out of the house, and on our way
to Bistro’s. It’s an Italian restaurant downtown that’s famous for
loud atmosphere and big tables for large groups. Perfect for
pre-prom dinner.

When we get to
the restaurant, we notice a few other tables with kids our age, all
dressed up. We don’t recognize them; they must go to different
schools. The place reeks of new garments, cheap cologne,
overpowering perfume, hair product and sexual tension. It’s
everything prom should be.

We find our
table and sit with Andrew and Sean, two of James’ friends from his
Basketball team, and their girlfriends.

Megan decided
to go stag. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been asked, because about a
trillion different guys asked her. She said she wanted to keep her
options open. She didn’t want to go with some guy because he was
hot, only to find out he was a dick throughout the night and then
have to put out at the end—
her words.

We make small
talk until the waiter comes and takes our order. The place is loud
with conversation, like you would expect with a bunch of teenagers
in the room. Once we’ve all placed our order, James stands up,
“Where’s the toilet in this place? I need to take a leak, that
champagne from the limo’s gone straight through me.”

He’s charming,
as always.

“I’ll show
you, since I need to use the ladies to re-adjust my underwear. It’s
riding up my ass,” Megan states loudly.

They walk away
towards the back of the restaurant, where the restrooms are.

I’m in the
middle of talking to Andrew about the new gym they’re building at
the school, when I feel something wet trickle down my back. I’m
frozen for a second, then turn to find some dude in a tux looking
at me wide eyed, half a glass of beer in his hand. The other half,
I’m sure, is down my back.

“Shit, babe.
I’m sorry,” wide-eyed douchebag says.

Babe? Really?
This guy has to be a joke.

“Jesus Christ,
Logan. Turn down the asshole a little, would ya?” his friend behind
him says. He has an accent, like English, or South African, or
Australian or something.

Logan, I
assume, turns around to face his friend so quickly, his hand
holding the remains of his beer slams against accent-boy’s broad
chest. Beer spills on the crispy white shirt under his open tux
jacket. Logan stifles a laugh. Accent boy groans, and pushes Logan
to the side, heading to the back of the restaurant, towards the
restrooms I presume.

“Naw, don’t be
like that, Jakey,” Logan mocks.

I stand up to
go to the restroom to see if this night, or the dress is worth
salvaging, but Douchebag Logan blocks my way. He eyes me up and
down, and walks a slow circle around me. He comes to a stop in
front of me, and a small smirk pulls at his lips.

“Well, hello
there, little lady,” he drawls.

I physically
push him out of the way, and head towards the restroom. I’m wearing
a backless dress. It’s halter style, all black, it reconnects just
above my ass, so close that there’s no room for underwear, just in
case. Because of this, I’m hoping, fingers crossed, that the beer
has just spilt just on my back, and not the dress. I’ll be able to
clean my bare back at least. More than I can say for the kid with
the accent.

As I turn into
the hallway where the restrooms are, I stop in my tracks. Megan is
halfway out the door of the ladies room. She’s adjusting her dress
slightly, her hair is in shambles, and her lipstick is smeared all
around her lips. She’s giggling, and her hands come up slowly, most
likely to the face of some random guy she’s just hooked up
with.

Megan is every
guys walking wet dream. She’s your typical tall, leggy, blond
haired, blue eyed, sex on legs. And she loves sex, and has
sex—
so much sex
.

So, it doesn’t
surprise me at all that we’ve been here all of fifteen minutes and
she’s been doing God knows what, with some random dude, in a public
bathroom. What does surprise me, though, as I get closer to her, is
that it’s not some random guy her hands are on. It’s James.
My
boyfriend. Her hands are on his face, cleaning the
smeared lipstick from around his mouth. My eyes are drawn to his
hands, which are at the front of his pants. He tucks ‘himself’ back
in, and does his fly up.

I feel the
vomit creeping up my throat, and make a noise trying to keep it
down. The noise must be loud enough to distract them. It almost
feels like slow motion, they both turn to face me at the same time,
their eyes huge, mouths hanging open.

Like they’re
surprised
I’m
intruding on
their
intimate fucking
moment.

Amazon bestselling author Chantal Fernando is 26, a mother of
three beautiful little boys and lives in Western
Australia.
 
Chase is her debut novel, followed by Kade, Ryder & James.
She is currently working on 'Spin My Love' a new adult contemporary
romance, along with a few other projects.

Chantal loves to hear from readers! You can find her
here:

Facebook author page:

https://www.facebook.com/authorchantalfernando

XOXO