Shout (The Voice Trilogy Book 3) (15 page)

Ch. 23 Epilogue

The text came just as we were walking out the door.

             
Sophie I think it's time! We are heading to the hospital. Matthew will call you when we are checked in, see you soon! Oh my god I'm going to have a baby!!!

She paces nervously, refusing to leave for dinner; back and forth waiting for the phone to ring.

              “Sophie, I had a reservation my Love. I'm sure we can have dinner first.” She looks at me exasperated and unconvinced.

              “We can have dinner any night; Olivia is having a baby Rhys. I can’t miss it.”  She stops and takes my drink from my hand. “Why hasn’t he called Rhys, why?”

The frustration can’t mar her beautiful face but she is beyond reproach. “I think we should just go Rhys. Maybe something happened, an emergency, a complication. I really think we should just go.”

              “Sophie,” I stand and cross the room, folding her into my arms, trying to calm her nerves, “she said he will call and he will. I am sure everything is fine, just relax. I think we should go have dinner and wait”

              “Relax?” She pushes away from me, “Rhys, don’t tell me to relax. Just take me to the hospital, please. Olivia would want me there; I will be devastated if I miss something.” I know she would be and I realize my plans have to take a back seat.

              When we arrive at the hospital Sophie jumps into gear like I have never seen, pushing Matthew from the bedside, holding Olivia’s hand as they talk about a birth plan. Sophie starts barking orders at Matthew and I and we blindly oblige, taken aback by her taking charge. I watch her handle the situation and am overwhelmed. Just when I think I can’t love the woman more she shows me another side of her that makes me fall in love all over again.

              Olivia’s labor quickly progresses and Sophie’s strength grows exponentially with every contraction. She is calm and collected as Olivia begins to slip into a heavy labor. I excuse myself and take a stroll around the maternity ward uncomfortable watching Olivia in such pain.

              I finger the box in my pocket, making sure it’s still safely where I put it.

              After two hours of labor, shouting and tears the beautiful little Lola makes her debut and she is a sight to behold. The glee on Matthews face is infectious; he pats me on the back as I congratulate him. But it’s watching Sophie hold her that cements my entire future. That is it, right in front of me, the picture I want to look at for the rest of my life. The woman I want, holding the whole world in her arms. There is no perfect moment, this
is
the moment, will not let it slip away

              “Sophie.” She looks up at me with such love in her eyes I feel like I could burst. Overwhelmed and desperate to know her answer now I can’t hold back. “Sophie Noelle,” the room grows quiet as she watches me. Matthew smiles and puts his hand on Olivia’s shoulder, knowing. Olivia looks at Sophie and then to me before a realization dawns on her as well and the silence is perfect.

“Sophie Noelle,” I say pulling the box from my pocket. Her eyes grow wide and she starts to shake her head back and forth, careful still not to move the baby. “You are the love of my life Sophie; you’ve made me a better man. I cannot imagine my life without you, I don’t want to.” I take a step closer to her and open the box.

“Sophie, will you do me the great honor my Love.” I tip the box at her and her eyes bulge. I knew no simple rock; heavy on carats would do, not for my Sophie. The diamond is small, Asher cut, in its original setting, my grandmothers setting, with a ring of emerald dust set around it. Her eyes glisten under unshed tears and she calls out to Matthew.

              “Someone come get this baby,” her arms tremble but the smile on her face says the words she has yet to mutter. She hands the baby off to Michael and crosses the room in an instant, falling into my arms.

              “I love you Sophie, will you marry me?” I whisper in her ear.

              “Do you know how long I have been waiting to hear you speak those words?”

              “Then I should hope for an answer,” I tease.

              “Oh I’ll give you an answer Mr. Slate; I will gladly shout it from the rooftops if you like. I love you and I want the whole world to know.”

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As you ponder your next read may I make a suggestion? I love to share other Indies especially those who I am such fans of and proud to call friend, Alice C. Hart is one such talent! Her book Obsession hit the ground running this year and it is hot hot hot! Please enjoy the following snippet from Obsession by Alice C. Hart and check her out!

Obsession

Alice C. Hart

Synopsis

Sitting in a local downtown coffee shop, I saw her breeze in through the doors.  She was strikingly beautiful.  It was like lightning struck me.  I couldn’t keep my eyes off her.  I watched her place

her order. As she was about to leave, I grabbed my coat and coffee.

I headed out behind her, following her. I followed her to what looked to be a homeless shelter.  She can’t be homeless and I’m positive this is a men’s only shelter.  She must work here.  What is a beauty like her doing in a place like this? 

She doesn’t belong here.  She belongs with me.

I set a plan in motion to casually insert myself into her life.  It took forever to get myself in the precise place I wanted to be with her.  It was almost a go.  Then something happened that would change my plans. Him…

It seems my beauty has found herself someone she really likes.  No matter, I’ll take care of that. 

Abby and I will be together one day and it will be just like in my dreams.

*Please note ~ this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18. This book contains adult situations, drug use, drinking, and smoking.  These characters are not perfect, nor do they try to be.*

Obsession: The Stalker Series, Book 1

I’ve always watched. I like to watch. Watching gets me off. I love the feeling of not being seen. When you watch someone and they don’t know it, you inevitably learn everything about them. I only watch women; the ones that most people don’t notice on a day to day basis.

Women, like that, never suspect they are being watched. Yes, the everyday woman who is single or dating, but not in a monogamous relationship, but will fuck on occasion. And you guessed it; I will watch her fuck a guy while jerking off in my own hand in order to find the sweet release I crave.

There are the beautiful moments when I get to watch a woman break out her toys and watch her make herself come. Fuckin’ beautiful moments like this keep me going. Watching the pure bliss on a woman’s face when she can get herself off is something I will never be able to quit. I love watching her squirm; her quivering legs, hardening

nipples, her toes curling. God, I love women’s feet.

Abby is gorgeous and doesn’t know it. I’m positive that our life together will be nothing but pure bliss for us both. This thought excites me and I need to jerk off at the very thought of her. One day soon, she will see how much I love her, want her, need her, and then, we will build our life together.

I’ve never hurt anyone before. Then, I saw Abby and all the rules changed. I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the force that is Abby Osborne.

I’ve been watching her for quite some time now, about eight months. I saw her in a coffee shop and it was like I was struck by fucking lightning. I followed her afterwards and saw she worked at a shelter and set to motion my plan to insert myself into her life.

The thing about plans is that they don’t always go accordingly.

ABBY

I came screaming into the world on April 27th, 1985, at 3:33 a.m. My mother, Bonnie, was only eighteen years old when she had me. My sperm donor, I mean, my father’s name is Andrew and he was twenty-one years old, and not even close to being in a place to be a father. My father once told me that he watched me being born while he was strung out on acid. I was fourteen when I received that memo.

Thanks, dick.

“I’ll never forget it, Abby,” he would always say to me. Well shit, I guess fuckin’ not, Pops. Then he told me that they ordered pizza and were taking bets on who would arrive first, me or the pizza. I haven’t seen him since.

Yes, my mother fell for a bad boy when she was only fifteen years old herself, and was pregnant with me at seventeen. My father would bounce in and out of my life periodically and it never seemed to go well. I used to ask my mother if she was positive he was my father.

Her response was always the same, ‘Unfortunately, yes.’

This in itself was not starting my life out on a super path. I will, however, always look back to my mother and know she did the best she could with what she had.

My grandmother was only thirty-eight when I was born, and told my mother that I must be part devil for being born at 3:33 a. m. - she’s referencing that 666 stands for the Devil’s number and that clearly I will be half a little devil. She is sixty-seven now and still believes I am, in fact, half a little devil. Bless her heart.

Thank God, Bonnie was smart enough not to name me after my father. She named me Abigail Mackenzie Osborne (not my father’s Italian last name of D’Angelo) which has always made me happy because I love my name, and want zero ties with my sperm donor.

My ma raised me alone and, let’s face it; I could have turned out a lot worse considering my genetics.

Three years after I was born, my mom’s sister, Tina, would give birth to my cousin Dallas. Tina decided to name Dallas after her father, Frank Davidson, who would never appear in Dallas’ life again. Don’t be sad for her. She’s perfectly fine. Dallas Davidson, twenty-six years old, blonde, brown eyed, five foot nothing, pain in the ass. She’s my best friend and like a baby sister to me, and I will be the MOH (Maid of Honor) for her wedding next year.

Dallas and I, alone without the other, are enough for any one person to handle. Put the two of us together and look the fuck out. We are two crazy bitches that do and say as we please. We smoke pot, giggle like idiots, call each other colorful names and we are pretty sure the rest of our family hates us when we are together. Pffft, we are awesome and think if we had our own TV show, people would watch!

How do we know this, you ask? Dallas’ fiancé, Justin, has a habit of videotaping us (not in like a weird creepy way, because that’s gross!) whenever we cook together, smoke pot together, or are singing like rock stars in the car. Ok, we probably shouldn’t be singing, as we do sound like cats howling in heat, but embracing your inner rock star in the car is always a good time!

We roll with some other bitches, too; Amanda and Kim, and twins Nicole and Natalie. We are a fuckin’ blast, at least we think so! Good times are always had by all when we are together. These bitches are my family and I love them fiercely.

                                                                                    ***

“You fuckin’ cunt, go fuck yourself!” the angry homeless man shouts. It’s like they think this gets to me. I’m practically numb to name calling at this point. Working at a men’s homeless shelter for seven years will do that to you.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you will need to speak to a case worker before you will be allowed back inside.”

This is a normal and acceptable response for front line workers at The Shelter. I work with addicts, men with mental illness, concurrent disorders, and a multitude of other problems. It’s a hard job and I try not to bring my work home with me. Some days are harder than others. Some things linger in your mind and make you a more jaded person than you were ever meant to be.

“Are you ok, Abby?” asks Jake.

“Yeah, Jake, I’m cool. It’s part of the job and I’m almost used to it by now.”

Fuck me sideways. Jake Jackson has got to be the hottest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. There is no shortage of hot men where I work.

What’s even better is when I get to play damsel in distress and have all the boys running to make sure I’m ok. Let’s just call that a perk of the job since I don’t have many, and working at a shelter isn’t as rewarding as one might think.

“Abby, I’d like to see you in my office, if you don’t mind,” Jake commands, politely.

“Sure, lemme just have a quick smoke and I’ll be right up.” I need a smoke right now. If I didn’t smoke, I don’t know how I could do this job. What the fuck do people do when they get stressed out and don’t smoke, anyway? I’m almost positive Jake just wants to check in and make sure I’m ok after being verbally assaulted, again, by a homeless dude.

I walk outside for my smoke and am immediately swarmed by men asking me for my smokes. For fuck’s sakes! Why did I come out the front to smoke? Telling them all no, I walk away.

I get to the sidewalk where there are far less people around, and look up at the window. I can see Jake in his office, looking at me. I put my cigarette between my lips and light up, inhaling the smoke and filling my lungs before letting out a long waft of smoke. I’m looking right at Jake. I see him grin, shake his head, and walk away from the window.

Yeah, that’s right, Hottie McHotterson, I see you watching me and I like it.

Jake Jackson is about six feet tall, with a big boned, but not overly muscular frame. He’s thick and solid and has dark brown hair that’s short, which makes him look gangsta bad ass. I have a weakness for bad ass guys. Who doesn’t? I just need to find the right combination of hotness and bad ass without the guy being a complete dickhead. I know he’s got some fucked in the head ex-wife and I know all about his baby girl, Isabelle. She’s so cute, I could squish her face.

I make my way upstairs to Jake’s office and see him sitting at his desk. He is lost in thought and staring at the computer screen. He doesn’t notice me so I lightly knock on the door, letting him know I’m here. He looks up.

“Come in and have a seat, Abby.” I sit and immediately feel my palms get sweaty. Why am I intimidated by his hotness, anyway?

“Abby, I know a woman working in a men’s shelter can be difficult. But, it is imperative these men have positive female role models in their lives.” Jake is staring me right in the eyes. His hazel green looking into my hazel brown and I think I’ve stared like a minute too long.

“Jake, I appreciate the pep talk and I know you want to make sure

I’m ok, and I am. I always am. I’ve been here seven years and understand what I’m working with, but thanks so much for checking on me. It’s about time I pack up my crap and head home, anyway.” I get up to leave and Jake stops me.

“How about I give you a ride home tonight?” Say wha? Jake and I have had this little thing where we casually

flirt with each other. Since starting here, he’s never asked to drive me home. My heart is racing. I need to stay cool.

“Sure, you can drive me home. I don’t live too far, anyway.”

I start gathering up my stuff while the next shift comes in. Jake does his shift change with the next supervisor on duty and then gathers up his stuff, and we walk down the hall towards the parking lot. Since I don’t have a car, and usually take the bus, this is a nice treat. It’s past midnight and he doesn’t want me taking the bus home. He’s probably just being careful because he thinks I let these guys affect me.

We get to his car, which turns out to be a Jeep Wrangler – black, goddamn! Did he just open the door for me? What the fuck? Do guys even still do that? I thought it was an urban legend! Oh, Jesus Christmas, he just helped me climb in and I’ll be damned if I did not feel a partial hand on my ass. Should I have stuck it out more so he got

the full grab? No, don’t be a whore for him, Abby!

He shuts my door and I buckle in as he walks around to the driver’s side and hops in.

“Like my Jeep, Abby?”

“Hell, yeah, I like it! When did you get it?” It’s like he knows my weakness for Jeeps.

“Last weekend and it’s one of my new favorite toys,” he says with a grin, and then smirks.

He fuckin’ knows he can have me. I know it. FUCK ME! Why am I so transparent?