Page 5 of Falling Into Forever
“You’re hairy, Unca.”
This kid can pull a chuckle from me even while dread sits around my neck like a noose. “Yeah, Lollipop. It’s been a long day.” She curls into my side and rubs her face along the silk of my tie. Once she’s settled, I give Lena my full attention. “Lay it on me.”
Chewing on her lip, she tightens her high ponytail for the fourth time.
It’s not often that Lena gets nervous. Not when she found out she was pregnant and Trent flipped out. Not after Poppy was born and he took off for Ibiza the same day. Not even the time Poppy dislocated her elbow. But she wrings her wrist now, and it sets off every internal alarm I possess.
“Lena, this day can’t get much worse. Just spit it out,” I say as Poppy draws circles on my dress shirt with her little finger.
It’s true what the baby books say. I read them all while Lena was pregnant, and kids really do feed off the energy that surrounds them. I take a deep breath but still struggle to relax my shoulders.
Lena nods, then reaches into the bag she uses for the unbelievable amount of shit this child needs every time they leave the house. Who knew something so small would require enough supplies to care for a small army?
Poppy places both hands on my cheeks and plants a big, wet kiss on my lips. I love this little girl so damn much, and I’m in serious trouble because she already has me wrapped around her little finger.
A thunk draws my attention, and my throat burns like I’m trying to breathe through a room full of smoke. Bacon in a frying pan couldn’t sizzle more than the air trapped in my lungs. My world narrows to nothing but the book Lena dropped on my desk, and a low buzz fills my ears.
Seconds, or maybe decades, pass before Lena rounds the desk and removes Poppy from my lap.
My voice is hoarse when I finally find my words. “What the hell, Lena?”
“Hell, hell, hell,” Poppy sings. Apparently, her ability to pronounce sounds changes depending on the word.
“You have to read it.” Lena’s voice is pitched higher than usual, and the hairs on my arms stand at attention even as I shake my head no because I’ve lost the ability to speak.
April Rainby Sassy Thompson—known to me as Saylor Greer. The only woman I’ve ever loved, and the only woman who asked me to leave and never return.
Seeing her use my surname for her penname in person like this is a punch to the gut. Would she feel the same if she knew I’d chosen hers as well?
“Read it, Dante. And do not leave this office until you do.” Her tone is sharp and unyielding.
Lena has heard every detail of my relationship with Saylor. Every. Fucking. One. I don’t know how many hours she sat with me while I tried to process the messed-up situation that ended with me fleeing to California six years ago.
I was a train wreck when I arrived here. Heartbroken, disoriented—a shell of my former self. She was the friend I needed, the one to help pull me from the despair suffocating me, and the heartbreak still remains.
Saylor’s a pain that will never heal.
“Don’t you think living through the loneliness is enough, Lena?” I fight the urge to open social media and stalk Saylor’s online life. “Why in God’s name would I want to pick at a scab that won’t heal? I know how my story ended.”
She shakes her head sadly. “You know how the story ended for you.” Can she hear how loud the blood rushing in my ears is? My breaths become shallow, and I can’t seem to fill my lungs. She taps the book covered with raindrops and a silhouette of a woman who somehow emanates sadness. “But you don’t know how it ended for her.”
My mouth goes dry. I can’t look away from the book. “What are you saying?” My voice doesn’t sound like my own—it reflects a love lost well before its time.
“Read it. You might find that your story doesn’t have to have the tragic ending you’ve been living all these years.”
Heartbreak turns me to stone. Our love story was a tragedy. Am I really strong enough to find out how it broke Saylor too?
CHAPTER2
SAYLOR
One month later
“What is this?” Kate screeches through our video call, and her voice echoes off the walls in my tiny office. She’s a great agent, but her delivery sucks. “It doesn’t even have a happily ever after. I can’t shop this to a new publisher.” Her lips purse into a thin line when she leans closer to the screen. “What’s happening here? You’ve sent me three half-finished manuscripts just like this. What am I supposed to do with this shit? It’s garbage, Sass.”
It’s times like these I regret publishing under my nickname, because when she’s pissed, all those Ss hiss at me.
I forget to blink as she lays into me, but maybe I deserve her harsh words. If only she could understand that some stories don’t get a happily ever after.
