The Pastor held up her son; her healthy, black-headed son. He had green eyes and was the fucking light of her life. He’d known their voices in the delivery room and looked in her direction when Stella had spoken to him. The immediate love she felt for the little bundle of red skin, wrinkles, and matted hair shocked her. He’d changed everything for her, made her into a person again. She’d be forever grateful for that.
Liam Murphy Finnegan was being christened in George’s family church. They stood together at the altar, letting Liam be carried down the aisle, showing all the members of the church their baby. Then the Pastor gave Liam to his godfather to hold. She’d never seen Patrick so in love with anyone; his cold blue eyes practically melted when they looked at Liam.
It was a tough ride for Stella and Patrick to rebuild what they burned down at the beach, but he’d kept his promise.
Like he always does
. Patrick moved away because he couldn’t stand to be near her and had told her as much when he finally spoke to her. She was giving him the space he deserved because she loved him that much.
Kara stood next to Patrick and took her godmother duties very seriously, wiping the water from Liam’s face after the blessing. Stella’s heart felt whole and full as her fingers intertwined with George’s and she looked out on the front row to smile at Millie, her parents, Jesse, Billy, and the Finnegan crew.
George was beyond shocked when she’d told him she was pregnant. His reaction had stunned Stella. He’d cried, his head in his hands. She’d sat next to him to comfort him and he’d held her. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but that wasn’t it.
“But, I thought you couldn’t get pregnant,” he’d said softly.
“So did the doctors.” She’d shrugged. “Miracle baby, I guess.”
“I guess that’s what we needed. A miracle.” His green eyes shined from tears.
“I love you,” she’d whispered. “Always have.”
“Never stopped.” He’d kissed her gently.
Stella had felt a flood of emotions from the kiss; regret, guilt, lust, desire, relief… They may just be okay after all.
She and George had gotten married in Key West with only a few people in attendance. It was perfect. Every day with Liam was a step away from her old life; the hardness and ugliness she once felt were replaced by a pillow of love for this bundle of eating and shitting. She felt a new purpose that was separate from herself and she was driven to be the best mother she could be.
She couldn’t believe the way things had worked out and that this was her life, especially after the past five years. She didn’t think she deserved to be this lucky, to feel this much love, to be saved. Liam had shown her everything; her fears, concerns and everything else faded into the background. Liam taught her that she could love, and fiercely.
Her love might not be perfect, but what love is?
Acknowledgements
Writing can be such a lonely thing sometimes, just you and the voices in your head. This experience, writing
By a Thread
,
Tension
, and
Seamless
, has introduced me to so many new things and people and I’m forever grateful. I appreciate each and every person that has written a review, emailed me, tweeted me or contacted me on Facebook about reading
By a Thread
or
Tension
. You will never know how much it means to me.
Individuals that I feel I must mention are those that were included in my other acknowledgement pages and this book would simply not exist if it weren’t for them. Literally, this wouldn’t have been published if it weren’t for the fabulously awesome Lisa Despain. She helps me with all my formatting issues and never gets annoyed with me. And I’m annoying. Also, Georgina Gibson has done all the covers for this series and she is clearly brilliant. Thank you so much for being so gifted and sharing it with me. I give her impossible ideas for the covers of my books and she makes them happen. I think she is a genius and love her to pieces.
Also, quite necessary for this entire process, my husband inspires me to write on a daily basis. From our love story to the comments he makes, I will admit to him being a muse of sorts for me. I love reading and writing about love stories, but my favorite one is ours. The light of my life, Griffin—I would not be the person I am without having him in my life. He makes me more open to being creative; with all his stories, we make stories together. I’ll be in trouble when he starts reading, though. These books will be put under lock and key.
As everyone knows, my parents play a huge role in the process of writing for me. They read my first draft and tell me what works and what doesn’t. Their opinions mean so much to me and help guide how I tell the story inside me. I couldn’t do it without them.
My sister and I are so different, we wonder how our parents managed to raise us both. We have been rocking and rolling through this entire process this year. She is so instrumental in everything I do that’s book related, I panic when I can’t get in touch with her and want to make a decision. She’s done so much for me in the last year it would take three pages to give her the proper accolades. I hope she knows I appreciate her as much as I do…if not, thank you for everything, you rock!
Another person that was instrumental to
Seamless
was Emma Corcoran, she is my sister from another mister, on another continent. She lets me bounce ideas off her and will honestly tell me if I’m being a gobshite. I’ve come to value her opinion and friendship. She is one of my favorite BaT ladies. Michelle Caroll, another of my favorite BaT ladies, rocks my socks off with all her teasers. She’s amazing and I appreciate her tremendously. I’d be completely remiss if I didn’t mention the awesome group of ladies that I communicate with all the time, my BaT ladies. We have a closed group on Facebook and I’ve laughed so hard with these ladies. I can’t express my gratitude enough to the awesome ladies that inhabit that little corner of my world. Also, the cover was inspired by a pair of shoes that Shelly Jones entered into a contest that Stella would wear. Thank you so much! Jenny Cawthon thank you for having the final look at
Seamless
before it hit the formatter. Thanks to my other beta readers Jill Hester, Lindsay Helms, Dympna Nolan, Donna Sanderson, Jenn Donald and Kelli Gifford. Honorary BaT boy, my friend and author Robert Reeves, he is one of my favorite people on this planet and I appreciate his comments on
Seamless.
Honestly, I just like being around him because he’s awesome.
After I published
By a Thread
, I found Erin Roth. She was the yin to my yang. She is not just my editor, but a friend and a teammate. She makes my words better and I think that’s clear when reading
Tension
. She makes me better. She completes me. I cannot thank her enough for helping make Stella’s story what it is. When she told me that she cried when she read
Seamless
, I felt like maybe I had written the story I needed to. Thank you, Erin, for loving Stella, George, Patrick, Billy, Millie and Jesse as much as I do. I can’t wait to send you HIW.
In reality, only my friends and family would’ve read my books if it weren’t for a few blogs. My first review of
By a Thread
was from Mags at SMI Book Club. After Mags read the book and liked it I was so elated. We’re now friends and I value her opinion tremendously. Other blogs have been awesome as well and I want to thank them. Without you guys, no one would know Stella’s story or her band of misfit friends. So here you go, all the thanks in the world to Jennelyn from Naughty and Nice Book Blog, Amber from Up All Night Book Addict, Desiree and all the lovelies at A Love Affair with Books, Amanda from Globug and Hootie Need a Book, Ria from a Bookish Escape, Donna from The Romance Cover, Natalee from Read This Hear That, Sandie and Dee from Book Boyfriend Reviews, Grace and Yahaira from SMI Book Club, Dympna Nolan from Love, Words and Books, Jenn from The Geekery Book Review and, last, but certainly not least, Orchita from If The Book Fits blog. (If I left your name off here, I’m horrified, but know that I really appreciate whenever a blog takes the time to read and review my books). When people who read so many books actually like my book it blows my mind. Thanks again and I hope to meet every single one of you in person some day and thank you face to face.
Stalk me, I enjoy it:
[email protected]
@rlgriffinauthor
www.facebook.com/rlgriffinbyathread
www.rlgriffinauthor.com
You want more about Stella and George? I’m giving you a free short story; Mending. It’ll be available on February 14, 2014. Keep an eye out!
One last thing…you may want to flip to the next page.
Heart in Wire
Due out May 2014
Prologue
He stood there, watching the casket lowered into the ground, and felt a warm, gentle hand wrap around his. After a few seconds, he looked to his right and there she was, right where he needed her to be, holding his hand. He blinked three times to make sure he wasn’t imagining her being there. She squeezed his hand, two short pulses.
“You came.”
“Of course,” she replied softly.
The crowd dissipated after the conclusion of the graveside service.
“Patrick?” His mother called from the limousine they’d rented.
He waved her off without even glancing her way.
“I can take you back to the house,” she said and leaned into his side, resting her head on his right bicep.
“I’m staying at a hotel.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Don’t you want to be with your family?” she asked, leaning back to look at him, her head tilting to the side.
“Fuck no. I don’t want to go anywhere near that house right now.” He stood, unmoving as the funeral attendants arranged the plants and flowers by the grave. His mother had already taken the flowers she wanted. There were only a few left. He’d come back tomorrow and arrange them how
he
wanted.
“Let me take you to your hotel.” She pulled him toward her car by his hand.
“You alone?” he asked, not looking in her eyes.
She was silent for a few seconds too long. “Yes.”
Good
. “Let’s go.”
She held his hand until they reached her rental car. He took her in as he opened the door; he hadn’t seen her in person in a while. She looked different, older. Her eyes evidenced lack of sleep and a few new wrinkles around the corners, but she was still everything he wanted and was trying to forget; need coursed through him. Her hair was longer again and fell in waves over her shoulders. He liked it best that way.
“Where are you staying?” she asked, starting the car.
“The Bohemian,” he responded.
“Where is that?”
“River Street.”
“Why are you staying there, Patrick?”
“I just...” his voice cracked and he tried to reign in the emotions that he knew were on verge of bursting out.
“You’re okay,” she said soothingly, rubbing her fingers over his hand. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Kind of a role reversal, huh? You feeling any déjà vu?” he asked, grabbing her hand to make her stop rubbing. He stared out the window at the passing landmarks of his childhood.
After a silent ride from the cemetery to River Street, she pulled the car up to the valet and they got out. Speaking softly to the valet, she put several dollar bills in his hand and headed to where Patrick waited for her at the door. He pulled her into a full embrace, which soothed his nerves in a way he didn’t want to admit to anyone. He grabbed her hand and led her through the funky foyer of the hotel to the elevators. They remained quiet on the way up to the seventh floor. He kept brushing his thumb over her knuckles as a reminder that she was actually there.
For him this time
.
When they reached his room, he held the door open for her and pointed toward the Glenfiddich he’d bought yesterday. “You want a drink?”
“I think that’s a good idea,” she agreed, her voice weary.
Patrick filled their glasses then moved and sat on the bed, staring intently into the glass at the brown liquor.
“How did you know?” he started.
“Your sister,” she replied shortly.
“You talk?” His eyes finally reached hers.
She nodded, meeting his eyes then looked away.
“Will you sit with me?” He patted the bed next to him, needing her close to him.
“Sure,” she moved cautiously and drank half of her scotch before she reached the bed. She sat close to him, their thighs touching.
He closed his eyes, willing himself not to cry. “Thank you for coming.”
“Oh, Patrick. You know I’d do anything for you.”
Anything, but be with me
. He turned to her, while setting his glass down on the bedside table. He gently took her face in his hands and pulled her to him, his lips touching hers.
“I can’t...”
His heart constricted as if it was being shocked. He moved away from her quickly, but she came with him.
“Patrick, let me be here with you. Help you.” She pulled him into her arms this time, enveloping him with her coconut-scented shampoo.