Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Oh…and I asked him to marry me in September. I knew if I sang the chorus to “Truly Madly Deeply,” he’d probably say yes. Thankfully, I was right. We were married in December in a small wedding in Bath with a few friends and family in attendance. It simply couldn’t have been more perfect.
It was hard to believe it had only been a year since we’d first met in person. I felt like I’d always known him, and this was where we were supposed to land.
A glass of wine magically appeared in my periphery. I smiled my thanks and looped my arm over Chance’s shoulder before signing off my call.
“Cheers.” I clinked my glass to his and kissed his temple.
“Cheers. Dinner will be ready in five minutes. Are you hungry?”
“A little.” I turned to him, admiring his unusual eyes and beautiful smile.
“What are you thinking about, husband?”
“I thought of a new question,” I replied.
“Oh?”
“Would you rather be able to speak any language in the world or talk to animals?” I asked in my most serious tone.
A wide grin split his face in two. “Could the animals speak back?”
“Well…okay, sure.”
“Then I’d definitely want to speak to animals.”
“Of course you would.” I ruffled his hair affectionately and kissed him again. “I noticed the roses on the table. Is this the actual one-year anniversary of our terrible date?”
Chance snickered. “No, that was yesterday. This is the anniversary of the morning after. If I was a sentimental kind of guy, I’d serve you bacon and toast, but you love my spaghetti.”
I nodded. “I do. And I love you.”
“I love you too. And I always will.”
I believed him. I liked to think that past heartache and pain made it possible to know the real thing when it came along. And this was real. I was grateful for a second chance at love and a forever that I knew would last. With my Chance.
CHANCE FOR A LIFETIME - BONUS STORY
CHANCE
Chapter 1
Ugh. I was having one of those days.
Check this out…I’d slept through my alarm, burned my toast, spilled coffee on my clean white shirt, forgotten my umbrella, and had to use my briefcase to shield my head from the torrential downpour while trying to hold my end of a conference call I should have been handling from my desk—not at the Blackfriars Tube station. Luckily, I was able to mute the screaming child and the banjo player giving his all to “The Lady in Red.”
Happy fucking Monday.
I swiped my hand through my damp hair and took a deep, cleansing breath as I gazed, unseeing, out my rain-streaked window at the soggy street below.
Damn, I missed Roman.
If he’d been home, my day would have started out on a much nicer note. He would have made sure I hadn’t hit the snooze button five times before rolling out of bed, and he would have been the one making breakfast so there would have been no chance of burning the last slice of sourdough bread. And he always had an umbrella on hand.
My husband was ruthlessly punctual, organized, and ready for whatever the day might bring while I was more like a runaway train, cruising at dangerously high speeds on uneven tracks. I usually got where I was going, but nine out of ten times, I left a little wreckage in my wake—like the remnants of jam on my suit trousers.
I licked my thumb and rubbed out the sticky spot, pausing to glance at my cell when the screen lit up with an incoming call. Not Roman, but my next favorite person in England.
“Hi, Maxine. What’s up?”
“ ’Lo, babes. Come for dinner tonight. We’re having curry takeaway—chicken tikka, korma, chana masala…you know you love it!” she enthused in a rush. “Say yes. I can’t bear the thought of you opening a tin of soup or calling it a day with a bag of crisps or a bowl of Weetabix.”
“I do not eat Weetabix. It’s gross,” I huffed, wrinkling my nose in distaste. “Although the chocolate-flavored one isn’t so bad.”
Maxine made a yummy sound. “It’s lush with a sliced banana too.”
I smiled into the phone, loving her Cockney-accented speech and upbeat tone.
“Lush sounds extreme, but I’ll take your word on that. And thanks for the dinner invitation, but I—”
“Half six or whenever you’re done for the day.”
I nodded in acknowledgment when my assistant stepped into the doorway, tapped her watch, and held up five fingers. “I can’t, but thank you. Roman’s coming home tonight and—”
She let out a high-pitched squeal. “Say no more. You no doubt have plans involving candle wax, massage oils, and an Ed Sheeran mix—not curry.”
I snickered. “Something like that.”
“Glad to hear it. How long has he been gone?”
“A whole week.” I sighed, unable to keep the longing from my voice.
I couldn’t help it. It was our first time apart since I’d moved to England for good.