Before Forever (Sharing Space #6) (6 page)

When I entered the bedroom, Patrick was awake. He held out a hand to me and I took it, climbing into bed next to him. We kissed.

“I have to get ready for this interview. It’s downstairs in the hotel restaurant. Shouldn’t be more than an hour or so. Will you order room service while I shower?”

“Sure,” I said. “What do you want?”

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, yawned, and rolled his neck. “Just tell them the room number and ask for the usual breakfast, then tell them whatever you want.” I crawled over to him, sitting on my knees behind him, and kissed his back. “If you start, you better be willing to finish, cause I’ll miss this interview to make sure you do.”

I giggled, sat on my bottom, spread my legs and placed a foot on his back, giving him a gentle nudge. “Go get ready. I’ll order breakfast.”

I called in the order and then called Jules to let her know I’d be taking a few personal days. I instructed her to reschedule all of my meetings and only call if there was an emergency. I’d left my laptop in New York so I wouldn’t be able to work even if I wanted to, and I didn’t. I sent texts to Crystal, Myra, and my mom, letting them know I was in Los Angeles with Patrick and that I was okay.

Their responses were, in order:

Girl, get your life!

You better make him take you shopping.

So, you’re where you belong. Have a good time. xoxo

When Patrick entered the living room wearing a hotel robe, freshly showered and shaven, he found me surrounded by several covered dishes courtesy of room service. “Damn. What did you get?”

As it turned out, Patrick’s usual breakfast was an omelet loaded with veggies, two slices of whole wheat toast with light butter, coffee, and orange juice. I pointed at the additional plates as I answered, “An egg white omelet with veggies and cheese, a waffle with syrup and fresh strawberries, a chocolate croissant, fruit salad, and orange juice. What? I’m starving.”

He raised an eyebrow and said, “Apparently.”

We ate at the dining table. I could only manage a few bites of the omelet, a forkful of waffle, and two strawberries before I thought I was going to be sick. “Do you want me to call and have them bring up something else? It looks like you ordered the whole breakfast menu as it is, but I’m sure they have something left. Maybe.”

“Funny. No. I think I just need to lie down. Go do your interview. I’ll be here.” I kissed him softly and headed for the bedroom, looking forward to all the good sleep I was about to have.

*** 

“You sure you’re up for this?”

“Patrick, for the third and last time, I’ll be fine.”

We’d just enjoyed a beautiful dinner at a beachside restaurant that served the most expensive meals I’d ever seen. Everything we’d had was delicious but, by the time the dessert cart was brought to our table, I felt like everything I’d eaten was going to try and make an escape. Patrick had mentioned he’d like to head down to the beach after dinner and watch the sun set. We were just kicking off our shoes to step into the sand.

“It’s just you look a little…” He let the thought hang there.

“Smart man. That’s why I love you.” I took his hand and we headed for the water.

When the sun began to dip into the horizon, we found a spot to sit and watched it disappear. There were others along the coastline enjoying the same view, but not so many that we didn’t have a bit of privacy. Patrick removed his suit jacket and set it on the sand. “Here you can sit on this.” I tucked my skirt between my legs and took the offered seat.

“Did you make the flight reservations?” I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Um, yeah. We should probably talk about that.”

I groaned and lifted my head to look at him. “You weren’t able to get me on your flight?”

“No. I mean, yes. I did. That wasn’t the issue. It’s just that I wasn’t flying directly home. I was making a stop first.”

“Where were you going?”

He blew out a breath and turned to face me, his knees in the sand. “I want to say something and I don’t want you to interrupt me because I’m doing this all out of order. Okay?”

“Okaaay.”

He took a deep breath and held it so long I thought he might pass out. He finally released it. “I love you. More than any woman I’ve ever known or will know. I’m always going to love you. Everything that we’ve been through these past few months doesn’t matter. That was the before.”

“Before what?” I tried to swallow the large lump in my throat.

“Before forever.” He pulled a black ring box out of his pocket and opened the lid. His hands were shaking and that, more than the beautiful diamond ring inside the box, made me cry. “Chloe Brooks, I want you to be Chloe Murphy. I want you to be my wife. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up with you every morning. I want to go on vacations with you. I want to buy a house, a car, and a dog, and maybe a cat—”

“No cats,” I said, wiping the tears from my face.

“No cats then.” He was crying. My Patrick, with his dimples and hazel eyes and strong hands, was crying. “Be my wife, Chloe. Please?”

“Yes. Of course, yes.” I put my hands on his shoulders and kissed him. Our faces were damp with each other’s tears. I pulled back and allowed him to slip the ring on my finger. It was a gorgeous princess-cut diamond set in a platinum band with smaller diamonds down the sides.

“It’s so beautiful,” I said, holding my hand up so we could both see. We were losing light fast as the sun moved lower into the horizon.

“You’re beautiful,” Patrick said. “I love you, Chloe.”

“I love you, too,” I said. Then I threw up in the sand.

I held up my hand so my mother could admire my ring. Again.

“I’m so happy for you, baby.” We were standing on the front porch of her home, watching as Patrick loaded a rental car with our luggage. It had been a short two-day visit and a complete surprise to me.

Patrick had booked a flight to North Carolina so he could ask my mother for my hand in person. He’d already purchased the ring a week before and had planned on asking me when he got home to New York. My last minute trip to Los Angeles threw a few kinks into his plan. He received my mother’s blessing over the phone the day he asked me. Though the visit was brief, it was sweet. We’d spent a lot of time discussing wedding planning, even though Patrick and I were nowhere near setting a date.

Now, as I hugged my mother goodbye, she whispered, “You know you can’t take but so long to pick a date. I took one look at you and knew, young lady.”

“I know.”

“Because soon—”

“Mom, I know.”

***  

We agreed to go to Patrick’s parents
’ house directly from the airport. Patrick wanted to share our good news as soon as possible, while I just wanted to get it over with. If his mother was going to be against us, it’s something I needed to know sooner rather than later.

Patrick had called ahead to tell them we were coming so I was able to avoid any awkward
Oh, didn’t realize you were back in the picture
moments. I was also pleased that only his parents were home. I wasn’t ready for a full-on Murphy celebration. When we arrived Mrs. Murphy served tea, coffee, and pound cake. I couldn’t eat a bite, but I didn’t want to be rude so I sipped a cup of tea.

“I told you guys over the phone that Chloe and I were back together,” Patrick began. His father smiled, but I noticed Mrs. Murphy’s mouth tighten. “What I wanted to tell you both in person is that I asked Chloe to marry me and she said yes.”

My hands had been in my lap the whole time he spoke, but upon delivering the news Patrick reached underneath the kitchen table and held my left hand. I gave his hand a squeeze and then allowed him to place our interlocked hands on the table. Mrs. Murphy’s eyes immediately flew to my ring finger, as if to seek confirmation.

“Congratulations, son.” His father met Patrick halfway around the table and they hugged. “And Chloe, welcome to the family.” He came around to plant a kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you, Mr. Murphy.”

“Oh, no more of that. You’ll have to start calling me Dad.”

Having Patrick’s parents as my parents, even as in-laws, hadn’t occurred to me. I was so focused on how his mother would react—and predicted that it would be negative—I hadn’t given any consideration to what kind of relationship I would have with either of them. I couldn’t remember the last time I called my own father
Dad
. Maybe it was a gesture made out of tradition, something future in-laws are supposed to say, but the thought of having someone to call Dad brought tears to my eyes.

It didn’t help that my hormones were all over the damn place.

The sudden sound of Mrs. Murphy’s chair scraping against the floor grabbed the attention of all of us. She also had tears in her eyes and, as she rose and walked around the table, I expected her to go straight to Patrick, maybe beg him to reconsider. But instead she stood before me with her arms outstretched and tears freely rolling down her face. Without hesitation I stood and walked into her arms. I wrapped my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder. Her red hair was soft against the side of my face and she smelled of vanilla and confectioner’s sugar.

“You take care of my boy. And yourself. Promise me.” Her voice was surprisingly strong.

“I promise,” I said.

We pulled apart and she placed her hands on the sides of my face. I looked into her eyes and saw happiness I never expected. She nodded once. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

And then we hugged again, and rocked, and cried.

Damn hormones.

***

“I never want to leave this apartment,” Patrick said.

We were lying on the sofa, me on top with my head resting on his chest. He’d been playing in my hair and I wasn’t sure how much longer I’d be able to keep my eyes open.

“We’ll have to leave some time,” I said, and yawned.

“Nope. We can have everything we’ll ever need delivered.”

“And what about work?”

“Stop spoiling it.”

I yawned again.

“Are you going to sleep? It’s only seven o’clock. What is with you lately?”

I sat up. “Here. Let’s switch.” He looked confused but complied, allowing me to lie flat on my back while he sat between my legs. I lifted my tee shirt and rubbed my stomach.

“I’m pregnant.”

He blinked. “You’re… when? How?”

“I’m going to assume I only need to really answer one of those. When you came home six weeks ago. Just in case I need to answer the other one, we haven’t been exactly careful for awhile now.”

“When did you find out?” Patrick was looking at me like I’d suddenly sprouted tentacles. I was too sleepy to care.

“When we were in L.A. I took a test. I wanted to make sure we were going to be solid first. Then I wanted to tell you here, at home. Our home.”

For the second time that week, I saw my future husband cry. He gently placed a hand on my stomach. “I’m not going to break, Patrick.”

He laughed. “I know you’re not. You’re the strongest woman I know. You’re amazing.”

“I’m sleepy.”

Patrick stretched out between my legs, his feet hanging off the other end of the couch. He had his face between my legs, just staring at my stomach. “Normally, I’d take advantage of having you in that position, but I’m so sleepy.” I yawned into my hand.

“We’re going to have a baby,” he said, his voice filled with wonder.

I closed my eyes. “We’re going to have a baby.”

He began kissing my stomach, softly, all over.

“Patrick, can I go to sleep now? If you haven’t noticed, our baby has been kicking my ass.”

“Chloe, you can have whatever you want.”

So I let his kisses on my belly lull me to sleep.

From the Author

I started writing
Sharing Space
when my daughter was about a year old. She’s fourteen now, almost fifteen. I was in an interracial relationship with my now husband and wanted to write about the complexities of such a relationship, but also about all the humor and love of one. For some reason I really wanted to start the book with, “What the hell am I supposed to do with all this soup?” Hey, I was also reading a lot of chick lit at the time. Don’t judge me.

As life is wont to do, it got in the way. I worked on other projects, moved, bought a house, had another baby, and wrote other books, but I would always come back to
Sharing Space
, adding more to it and updating it. Pop culture references had to be changed each time: Brandy became Raven Simone, who later became Selena Gomez. 9-11 happened and I didn’t think it would be right to have a story set in New York after that time and not reference it in some way, not when my parents had lost friends in the attacks and, as NYPD, helped in the recovery efforts. And you couldn’t write a story about race in America without mentioning that the country had finally elected an African-American president. 

In 2013 I spoke with a few author friends, including the hardworking and talented RaShelle Workman and Breena Wilde, about serialized novels. They’d both found great success with sharing their stories in pieces, a few chapters at a time at a very low cost. In this age of Netflix binge-watching, the idea of teasing your audience, getting them hooked and coming back for more, was risky, but also exciting. It’s a concept that allows the author to spend time really connecting with their audience in real time, and making sure you’re giving them what they want while still staying true to your story. I decided to give it a try and
Sharing Space
seemed like the perfect project to test the waters.

I learned a lot along the way. One, tell your audience up front how many volumes there will be so they can decide ahead of time if they’re willing to make the financial investment. I thought $5.94 was a very fair overall price for a full-length e-book. Of course, I paid for six separate professional covers as well as six professional manuscript edits, so I don’t think anyone could accuse an author of doing this for greed.

Overall it’s been a very positive experience and I’m overjoyed that people have connected with Chloe and Patrick and their family and friends. I truly love every character in this book. Yes, even Kelly. Well, maybe not Orbit. Seriously. Fuck that guy.

None of this would have been possible without the beautiful covers illustrated by Steven Novak, my friend, illustrator, and fellow author. Also, my editor, MJ Heiser, another fantastic writer, gave me the support and confidence I needed to make this happen. The editor/author relationship is one that is built on trust, and trusting her with my baby was the smartest thing I could have done for this story.

I want to thank my best friend, Sophie Loney. She’s the bestest best friend ever. Really. Tell your best friend to step up their game. She’s always been the bringer of laughs, the keeper of secrets, and a pillar of support.

I want to thank my parents for being amazing. This is what happens when you raise a girl to believe she can do anything, guys.

A special thank you to my HSB friends, especially John Elrod II, who keeps my website (Project Fandom) running while I wrote, but really farted around Facebook and watched The Walking Dead when I should have been writing more.

Thanks to all of my new readers who have liked my Facebook page, followed me on Twitter, told their friends about the books, and left such wonderful reviews on Amazon and Goodreads. It’s been so much fun. Keep reading. I’m writing.

Finally, thank you to my husband, Donny, and our two beautiful and smart children, Kali and Jack. Our little family is the most important thing in the world to me. Thank you guys for putting up with my shit, of which there is a lot.

- Nina

Here’s an excerpt from Nina Perez’s upcoming novel,
Lily in the Middle
,
available for Kindle download Summer 2014

I was in the room when my grandmother died. I was eleven. My mother said it was because everyone should leave this world surrounded by as much love as possible. Now I find the sentiment beautiful. Twenty-five years ago I thought it was creepy as fuck.

My father’s mother, Lillian Hartwell, was just shy of her ninetieth birthday when she’d fallen ill in the supermarket. At eighty-nine she still drove, still attended church regularly, and still shopped for her own groceries. No one was particularly surprised that an elderly woman would become light-headed in the middle of the canned goods aisle. They were surprised that she resisted all attempts at help, finished her shopping, and drove herself home.