Authors: Emma Heatherington
Tags: #Contemporary Fiction, #Humor, #Contemporary Women, #Romantic Comedy, #Contemporary, #Romance, #Sagas, #New Adult & College, #Inspirational, #Women's Fiction, #Literature & Fiction
“Babe
,
wer
e
yo
u
smokin
g
again?
”
h
e
aske
d
whe
n
he pulle
d
bac
k
eventuall
y
.
“Pleas
e
don
’
t
smoke
,
T
ess.
”
H
e
wasn
’
t
angr
y
.
Ro
b
wa
s
neve
r
angr
y
a
t
he
r
bu
t
the
way
he
said
it
spelt
disappointment
and
she
hated
disappointin
g
him
.
Fo
r
al
l
he
r
amazing
,
top-of-the-class qualities
,
T
es
s
ha
d
on
e
littl
e
vic
e
tha
t
sh
e
couldn
’
t
quite kick
.
Sh
e
wa
s a
sneak
y
smoke
r
.
“
I
jus
t
ha
d
on
e
earlie
r
o
n
m
y
lunc
h
break,
”
sh
e
said. “Oh
,
don
’
t
loo
k
a
t
m
e
lik
e
that
,
babe
!
I
kno
w
I
nee
d
to
giv
e
u
p
bu
t
it
’
s
seriousl
y
onl
y
whe
n
I’
m
stressed
.
I’v
e
been
feelin
g
a
littl
e
bi
t
mor
e
unde
r
pressur
e
tha
n
norma
l
this pas
t
fe
w
week
s
an
d
it
’
s
th
e
onl
y
thin
g
tha
t
settle
s
me
.
Y
ou shoul
d
b
e
a
smok
e
detective.
”
“
W
ell
,
bein
g
a
fireman
,
I
sor
t
o
f
am,
”
h
e
responded immediatel
y
.
“I’
m
traine
d
t
o
spo
t
smoke
,
eve
n
o
f
the tobacc
o
variet
y
.
I
ca
n
smel
l
i
t
an
d
tast
e
i
t
a
mil
e
awa
y
.
”
“
W
ell
,
fro
m
wher
e I
wa
s
standing
,
tha
t
kis
s
wa
s
yummy
an
d
thi
s
al
l
look
s
an
d
smell
s
amazing
.
What
’
s
th
e
occasion?”
H
e
reall
y
ha
d
mad
e
quit
e
th
e
effor
t
fo
r
a
midweek
d
inne
r
.
Candle
s
wer
e
flickerin
g
o
n
th
e
table
,
o
n
the
worktops
,
o
n
th
e
windowsil
l
an
d
o
n
an
y
othe
r
surfac
e
th
at
wa
s
fre
e
t
o
hol
d
the
m
an
d
a
tastefu
l
shuffl
e
o
f
mellow
musi
c
playe
d
i
n
th
e
backgroun
d
fro
m
th
e
iPo
d
dock
.
T
es
s
wa
s
trul
y
impressed
,
bu
t
trul
y
puzzled
.
V
er
y
puzzled
,
unti
l
sh
e
caugh
t
a
glimps
e
o
f
the
calenda
r
tha
t
hun
g
o
n
th
e
sid
e
o
f
th
e
dresse
r
an
d
that
’
s
whe
n
i
t
al
l
becam
e
clea
r
.
Ro
b
ha
d
marke
d
of
f
eac
h
day wit
h
a
n
‘X
’
a
s
h
e
alway
s
di
d
(h
e
blame
d
hi
s
mil
d
cas
e
of OCD)
,
bu
t
today
’
s
dat
e
ha
d
a
circl
e
aroun
d
it
.
I
t
glare
d
at he
r
the
n
an
d
sh
e
couldn
’
t
tak
e
he
r
eye
s
of
f
it
.
S
o
sh
e
glared back
.
“Wh
y
i
s
today
’
s
dat
e
circle
d
o
n
th
e
calendar?
”
sh
e
asked,
secretl
y
hopin
g
tha
t
th
e
reaso
n
swirlin
g
aroun
d
he
r
head
wasn
’
t
matchin
g
th
e
on
e
o
n
hi
s
mind
.
“I
s
i
t
someon
e
’
s
birthday
?
Y
ou
r
mum
’
s?
”
O
f
course
,
T
es
s
kne
w
i
t
wasn
’
t
hi
s
mum
’
s
birthda
y
.
She
kne
w
th
e
date
s
o
f
hi
s
parents
’
birthday
s
bette
r
tha
n
she
di
d
anyon
e
else
’
s
.
Bein
g
a
n
onl
y
child
,
h
e
alway
s
mad
e
a
fus
s
o
f
hi
s
parent
s
s
o
sh
e
kne
w
i
t
wa
s
nothin
g
t
o
d
o
with
them
.
W
a
s
i
t
th
e
anniversar
y
o
f
th
e
da
y
the
y
ha
d
met
?
No. Th
e
da
y
the
y
firs
t
spen
t
a
ful
l
nigh
t
together
?
No
.
Th
e
day the
y
firs
t
sai
d
‘
I
lov
e
you’
?
No
.
The
y
kne
w
al
l
thos
e
dates.
The
y
wer
e
sopp
y
lik
e
that
.