What If: The Anthology Page 3

  It was a massive leap of faith on her part. Standing there, squeezing each other for dear life, I thanked every lucky star I’d ever wished. Every coin I’d ever tossed in a well. Every heads-up penny I’d ever found. Surely, one of them had brought such an incredible turn of luck to me.

  I wouldn’t waste another minute. I was starting us over. Then and there.

  I put her down and stepped back. It was time I finally introduced myself.

  She looked at me. Still a little shaken. Still not sure. Then I offered her my hand to shake.

  “I’m Casey. I sell beer for a living, but hopefully one day I‘ll own my own brewery. I’ve never been in love before,” I admitted, but winked. “I hate long distance relationships. I have a crazy ex. Actually, I work for my crazy ex’s dad. I have a twin brother, but I’m cuter. I like traveling, but hope to have a home that changes that one day. And I have a penchant for brown eyes and pink noses.”

  She smiled, although tears were running down her cheeks.

  “Hi, Casey. It’s really nice to meet you.” Her voice shook, but her posture straightened. She put her little hand in mine and we shook. “I’m Blake. I’m a trained chef, but I hardly cook anymore. I travel a lot for work.” Her gaze lifted off to the left as she thought. “Currently, I’m homeless. I’m wearing a wedding dress, but I’m not a bride. I bite my nails. I’m not sentimental, but I have two coffee mugs that I love. They were a gift. I like BLTs, Led Zeppelin and red pants. You can call me honeybee.”

  Don’t first impressions make all the difference? If I was getting a second shot. I was going to take full advantage.

  “You sound like someone I couldn’t really get along with,” I said. We were playing. Something that always came easy to us.

  Yes. It had been a shitty morning, but the day was shaping up.

  I asked, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head, but she grinned.

  “Too soon?”

  “No. Not soon enough,” she replied, as she rocked a little from side to side. “I’m single.”

  What great fucking words.

  “I’m single, too. Do you want to go get a coffee or something?” It was a dumb thing to ask, considering her circumstances. Seriously, though? What was she going to do? Go to the reception?

  “Sure. Would you like to meet my mom and dad?” She looked so hopeful.

  It was priceless. I’d never imagined meeting the parents sounding so damn good. However, they’d probably just paid for a wedding that didn’t happen. It was understandable if they weren’t rushing out to join my fan club. All they knew about me was I had really shitty timing.

  “Are you sure? It’s been a weird day, Blake. I don’t know.” It was almost too much.

  They were talking to the priest near the road, where he was getting into his car.

  Upon scanning the park, I noticed it was just them, and Micah and Cory, left. My brother and Micah stood under a tree, not far from us. Everyone else was gone, save for the musician and some people who were already packing up chairs.

  Blake took my hand and led the way.

  “I’m sure.”

  It was surreal. I’d came to that park thinking I was putting a nail in a coffin and I was leaving hand in hand with my honeybee. Shit, though. I wasn’t going to question it.

  They looked a little haggard, a little worn, but they smiled as we approached. Mr. Warren put his arm around his wife. I took it as a sign of solidarity.

  I welcomed it.

  “Mom. Dad. This is Casey Moore,” she introduced. What a sight it must have been. Me in street clothes. Blake in a wedding gown. The both of them dressed for a ceremony that didn’t happen. A large part of that was my fault.

  Her dad was the first to extend a hand for me to shake. I took it. No questions asked. I wasn’t about to start looking gift horses in the mouth.

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  “It’s nice to finally meet you too, son. Some day we’ve had, huh?”

  He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t cross or even short with me.

  “Yes, I’m sorry,” I said. How would I ever prove to them that I was worthy of such chaos? Such recklessness?

  After Blake’s dad released his firm, but friendly, grip of my hand, her mother offered me hers.

  “Don’t be silly, Casey. Love is nobody’s fault.” She gave Blake a knowing smile and honeybee squeezed my other hand, the one she was still holding.

  Love is nobody’s fault.

  Mrs. Warren looked like an older version of Blake. Dark hair, darker eyes. Same soft hands. Same pretty smile. It was like looking into the future and I liked what I saw.

  “Well, I appreciate that. I’m sorry we’re meeting like this.” I didn’t know exactly what the right thing to say was.

  “So what do I do?” Blake asked her parents. “God, what a mess.”

  The couple looked at each other, I doubted they knew the answer either.

  “It is a mess, sweetheart. But it’s a much better mess than had you not spoken up,” said her mom.

  Blake didn’t respond to that.

  “I just asked Blake if she’d like to get some coffee,” I said as in invitation. I wanted to know them. I wanted them to know me.

  We’d met a year ago to that very day, but that May 23rd I wanted to actually start our relationship. I wanted to start it right.

  “Coffee?” her Dad asked.

  “Yeah,” Blake answered as she looked into my eyes, confirming that it was a good start. “You should come.”

  “I don’t know about coffee, but I sure as hell could use a beer.”

  Amen.

  I already liked her dad. We were going to get along great.

  SIX

  Blake

  Saturday, May 23, 2009

  Casey got along with my whole family. It was kind of like a Twilight Zone episode.

  After we left the park, instead of going for beers, my brothers picked some up and we all went back to my mom and dad’s. Mom called around and did what damage control she couldn’t, but they’d pretty much lost all of their money and we were forced to pay for a reception that none of us attended.

  Apparently, the reception wasn’t cancelled, only modified. Our guests were invited to go and have a good time, regardless of the situation. Grant’s family wasn’t happy, especially with me, but they were respectful to my mom when she finally spoke to them. I’d have to send back gifts and send Thank You’s that read more like I’m Sorry’s, but I didn’t care.

  Deb, Casey and Cory’s mom, came over with Foster and it kind of turned into a barbeque. A weird and unexpected end to a day, which easily could have never happened. On the back deck, my brothers talked with Cory and Casey as my dad grilled burgers and brats.

  Shedding my fancy clothes and secrets, I saw how wonderfully blessed I was.

  So much had changed in one day. All because of a little honeybee.

  “Blake, do these look done to you?” my dad called from the grill. “You are the professional. You should be doing this, not me.” He teased me, but when I looked they were good and he knew it.

  “They’re fine, Dad.”

  “I know. I just wanted to talk to you for a second.”

  I didn’t know whether to feel worried or not. I sided with not, because it wasn’t the day to borrow trouble. And I owed my parents about ten thousand dollars.

  “Yeah? What’s up?”

  He looked at me sternly and said in a fatherly tone, “If you ever—ever—do something like that again, we’re going to have a real problem. Do you understand me?”

  I’d hurt people. I’d wasted their time and money. I’d lied.

  “I know. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for everything, Dad. I hope you and Mom can see I didn’t mean for everything to get so out of hand. I’ll pay you back.

  “You’re doing it again already,” he accused, but I wasn’t getting it.

  “Doing what?”

  “Not be
ing true to yourself. We don’t care about the money. Yeah, it was a costly mistake, but Blake you can’t do that ever again. You can’t just go along with what you think other people want. We didn’t raise you to have a weak character. You stand up for yourself. You hear me? No money. No house. No job. No amount of security or obligation is worth your happiness.”

  I felt scolded, but it also felt justified. I’d done what I’d done for all of those reasons.

  “I didn’t know what to do, Dad.”

  “And that was another mistake. You can come to us. Always. It doesn’t matter what you did, or what problems you have, baby girl. We’re your family and we’re on your side.”

  My heart swelled. All of the places that were full of fear emptied. The vacant space was replaced with so much love.

  How did I not know?

  How had I not trusted their love?

  Then again, I hadn’t trusted my love or Casey’s love either. It was something I’d be working on. The lesson, painful as it was, was learned.

  “I love you, Dad.”

  “I love you, too, Blake,” he replied. “Now, go get me the platter to put these in so I don’t overcook them.”

  He kissed the top of my head as I swung around to go in the kitchen.

  My mom and Deb were in there swapping horror stories, both of them having two sons each.

  “Once I caught Shane and Reggie on the roof with sheets,” my mother said.

  “That’s nothing, Casey started a small brewery in out basement when he was in high school and was selling beer to all his friends. It was good beer though.”

  They laughed and commiserated like old friends. What a shame it would have been if they’d never met. I didn’t have to think about it though. They were both there, swapping recipes and gardening tips.

  It blew my mind.

  That night Casey and I stayed at my parents’ house.

  I didn’t really have a room there anymore, but Casey said that I should sleep upstairs and he’d sleep in the basement.

  “Out of respect, Blake. Today was a fucking miracle. I’m not pushing my luck. I’m not testing Karma,” he explained. Something about seeing him with my family, in their house, made me love him more. Like the Casey I’d know for a year, grew into a more complete person. He wasn’t just a secret. He wasn’t a fantasy. For the first time, it was like he was flesh and blood and real.

  We were real.

  “I’m sneaking down there then,” I confessed. “As soon as everyone is asleep, I’ll be headed your way.”

  “You do realize you’re an adult, right?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.

  “Yes, and you realize that I won’t be able to sleep knowing that you’re only a few fee from me. Right?” I retorted. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen his smile as much as I had the second half of that day. We’d been through every emotion and somehow, magically, we ended up together.

  “Good. Because I was going to sneak up to you if you didn’t come down anyway. How thick are these walls?” he asked, as he pressed me against the one in the hall that evening.

  “Not very thick, I’m afraid.” I tried to answer without laughing, but my giggle fell out with my words. He was bad.

  “You’ll have to be quiet.”

  “You’ll have to be fast.”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem. I haven’t been inside of you for months. You’ll be lucky if you even show up in time.”

  I kissed him and hoped that everyone fell asleep soon. Also, that they’d all had enough to drink, which would ensure they slept soundly. In the event I couldn’t hold up my end of the bargain.

  Everyone stayed up late, but I couldn’t complain. It was fun.

  Finally, when the house fell quiet, I tip-toed down the stairs and found the love of my life passed out already.

  It was no trouble waking him up.

  I straddled his perfectly sleeping form and pressed my lips to his. He moaned and stirred as he came to.

  “Hi,” I said. “Are you too tired?”

  With the speed and agility of a tiger, he rolled us over.

  “Never.”

  I laughed as he playfully rained kisses on me, until the kisses turned heated. When happiness melded with passion and our bodies reconnected. Carefree and lightheaded became urgent and desperate.

  We undressed each other feverishly. His hand greeted my flesh like old friends. Old lovers. They knew exactly what I wanted.

  When he pushed inside me, with one hand over my mouth, stifling the cry of pleasure that threatened our privacy.

  “I love you so much, honeybee. Thank you for picking me. Thank you,” he said. He thanked me over and over.

  In the dark, in the basement of my parents’ house, we had sex as a free woman and a free man. No holding back. No questions of regret. No consequences to cloud our love.

  When I came I said his name and told him I was his forever.

  We lay there for hours afterward talking and sharing stories that may have never been shared if things had went differently.

  “Casey, do you think if I would have married Grant we’d ever see each other again. I mean, I know we’d see each other at Foster’s birthdays and things like that, but do you think you would have moved on?”

  He rubbed my naked back as I lay on his chest.

  Finally, he said, “I don’t think it would have ever been over. Not for me. I think that some way, somehow we’d find our way back to each other. There’s no one else out there for me.”

  “I think that, too. Can you imagine? It would have been awful.” It almost was awful. It was almost tragic. “I think no matter what, I’d always love you. Even if we never found our way back. Love like that doesn’t die.”

  He lifted my head and his warm lips met mine in a slow and affectionate kiss.

  “Well, I’m glad I get to love you in person then,” he said as our mouths separated. “Where I kiss you. And taste you. And have my naughty way with you whenever I want.”

  “And Casey? When we get married . . . ?” I began, and then kissed him quickly when I realized what I’d said. I hoped he’d let it slide.

  He broke the kiss and urged, “Go on.”

  “I don’t want violins.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  M. Mabie lives in Illinois with her husband. She loves reading and writing romance. She cares about politics but will not discuss them in public. She uses the same fork at every meal, watches Wayne’s World while cleaning, and lets her dog sleep on her head. M. Mabie has never been accused of being tight lipped or shy. In fact, if you listen very closely, you can probably hear her flapping her gums. You’re encouraged to contact M. Mabie about her future works, as well as this one.

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  Delusion Copyright © 2015 Chelle Bliss

  Published by Chelle Bliss

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  Published: Chelle Bliss April 1st 2015

  Editor: Lisa A. Hollett, Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC
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  Cover Design: Chelle Bliss

  Cover Photo: Eric Battershell Photography/FITography

  Cover Model: Matt Zumwalt

  This book is intended for a mature audience only.

  To every reader who ever thought . . .

  What if?

  PROLOGUE

  I’m a simple woman. I grew up in a house with four brothers and loving parents who have remained married even after more than thirty years together. They showered us with love and affection. I’m the youngest of their children.

  I have four very annoying older brothers. They’re overprotective, and even though I’m an adult, that’s never changed. They chased every man I ever liked—fuck the L-word—away as they screamed bloody murder and ran for their lives. Some would call the Gallo men alphas but not me. I call them pains in my ass.

  They helped mold me into the woman I am today. I don’t take shit from anyone. I know how to throw an amazing right hook, just the right angle to knee a guy in the balls so he’ll never have children, and how to keep my mouth shut.

  A couple years ago, we opened a tattoo shop together. We simply named it Inked. Our family has money, but we were raised to not sit on our asses like spoiled brats. We get up each day and go to work. It’s our goal to stand on our own two feet. So far, we’ve been successful. Even though we fight like cats and dogs, we love each other fiercely and are very careful who we let into our little Gallo Family Club.

  Thomas, my eldest brother and an undercover DEA agent, is the only one who doesn’t work in the shop. He’s a silent partner, and we pray that, one day, he’ll get sick of his undercover work and settle down. He’s been working inside the Sun Devils MC for some time. Moving up the ranks, he’s made his mark and is on the verge of bringing the entire club to its knees.

  Joe is one badass motherfucker. He’s kinda my favorite, but I’ll never tell him that. Shit, I’m not stupid. He’s an amazing artist and tattooist, and he will be an amazing father. A while back, he rescued a hot little blond named Suzy. She’s sweet as pie and used to be innocent. His badass biker ways ruined her, but naturally, I rubbed off on her, too. Some of his friends call him City because he was born in Chicago. The name fits him, but he’ll always still be my Joey.