Wednesday
Authors: Clare James
Wednesday
By
Clare James
Copyright
© 2014 Clare James
All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted,
downloaded, distributed, stored in or introduced into any information storage
and retrieval system in any form or by any means, whether electronic or
mechanical, without express permission of the author, except by a reviewer who
may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This
is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, or any
events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines
are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover design by
Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations.
Editing by Sara Biren, SP Critique and Editing Services.
About Wednesday
Twenty-one-year-old Aria Prince has just moved back to
her hometown to start over after a painful divorce. She’s always prided herself
on being an early bloomer, but had no idea she’d be married, divorced, and the
mother of a toddler by twenty-one.
Unlike
her friends who were at school, going to parties, and sowing their oats—wild
and otherwise—Aria’s days were measured in the number of orders she took at her
family’s restaurant, the chapters she read in her nursing text, the amount of
Cheerios she cleaned up off the floor, and the wet kisses she received from her
son.
And
that was just fine with her.
But
when she began running into her former best friend Tristan Green – who was home
taking care of his sick father – she remembered what it felt like to be just Aria.
Not a single mother, or sleep-deprived nursing student, or royal screw up. And
though she didn’t even have time to shave her legs, let alone consider a sex
life, Tristan makes an offer she’d be a fool to refuse.
Did
she forget to mention that Tristan was gorgeous?
Or
that they hated each other?
Wednesday
is a raw and intoxicating new romance
from Clare James that will keep you turning the pages well into the night.
Table
of Contents
“A mother's love for her
child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all
things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.”
-Agatha Christie
ARIA
That is his request.
One day each week. Four days each
month. Twelve days over the summer… if the
arrangement
would even last
that long.
He looks at me and the disdain in
his eyes has disappeared. Now they warm for me. No. Burn. They burn
for
me and
through
me.
Could I do this?
Should I?
“Well, Aria,” he purrs in a voice I
don’t recognize. “What do you think? Forget it all and become mine for one
day?”
My brain tries to make sense of the
sinful offer, but my body is already in motion – making my way to the man I
once knew.
His eyes delight with each step I
take toward him. His stance somehow opens for me. When I stop, however, to meet
his scorching gaze, a wave of confusion washes over his face and gives him
away. He’s not as confident as he lets on.
But when I answer his offer with my
lips, it’s the last time I see any kind of trepidation. No, at that point I
know – he will be in control from here on out.
And in a place very deep inside, I
am relieved.
***
TRISTAN
It was a crazy, exciting, brilliant
– thought maybe a bit sleazy – idea. But it made perfect sense. We were both
stuck here for who knew how long, so why not make the most of it?
Tonight’s the deadline for her decision.
Seven o’clock, only twenty minutes from now. Aria said she’d consider my offer,
but I’m not sure I can trust her.
Still, I light the candles,
straighten the bed, and hope.
And it’s excruciating. Whoever said
anticipation is half the fun is a moron.
I need to show her what she missed
when she left with him all those years ago. It was my fault, I know that now. I
waited too long, and when I finally got the balls to do something about it, I
was too late.
That’s when I learned that nice
guys finish last. Always. Forget the chick flicks where the nerd triumphs and
gets the girl – all that Michael Cera bullshit. Doesn’t happen. Unless you’re
Mark Zuckerberg or Jack Dorsey, and are on your way to making billions.
I’m ashamed to admit that’s where
my motivation came from. I thought I could erase Aria with another woman. But I
knew I needed to make some serious changes to do that. It’s why I went to MIT.
It’s also why I quit MIT to start my own company. And I why worked around the
clock and spent every cent I had on my latest idea.
For women.
At least that’s how it started out.
And it worked. Once I got out of Dodge,
my lanky body filled out and I became confident and successful. Women were no
longer an issue.
Not that you’d know that now. As
the clock ticks closer to seven, I’m coming undone and clearly losing my cool.
Confidence? Out the window.
Upper lip? Beaded in sweat.
Nails? Chewed down to the quick.
Hair? A big, kinky 1970s bush,
after continuously running my hands through it.
Balls? Blue, as they have been
since she came back into town.
Yep, in the span of ten minutes,
I’ve gone from Magic Mike to Jonah Hill.
Where are the assless chaps when
you need them?
Pacing around the room, I listen as
the waves crash on the beach outside the door. The door I’m willing to open
with my Jedi mind tricks. Forget everything I’ve done over the past three
years: the start-ups; the research; the hours behind the computer. None of it
matters now because I’ve become a pathetic shell of my former self, like the
kid I was in high school. The dorky computer geek who always landed in the
fucking friend zone.
In less than a month, I’ve morphed
back into that guy. Waiting on that girl. My mind races on an endless loop of
insecurities. Will she do it again? Will she stand me up? Will she leave?
I know I shouldn’t care. I have
options a-plenty these days. Still, I want
her
. One day is all I’m
asking for. It’s all we need. One day a week. Four days each month. Fifty-two
goddamn times each year.
On the other three-hundred-fourteen
days, we could go back to business as usual. She would pretend not to notice me
in town and I’d pretend that I hate her sweet little ass.
We’ve been driving
for almost two days now, stopping only for bathroom breaks and one short night
at Super 8 so we could get some decent sleep. The car smells like fast food.
I
smell like fast food. And quite possibly sweat. I move my hands from ten and
two and rest them at five and seven to keep the odor at bay. I left my
deodorant in our rush to get out. I left a lot of things.
My phone buzzes and I snag it from
the dash so I don’t wake Caden in the backseat.
“Hello,” I whisper, not even
bothering to check the caller ID. There’s only one person who’d be calling me.
Only one person who cares.
“Aria,” my mother says. A dramatic
exhale follows. “How’s the drive going? I’ve been so worried.”
“We’re doing okay,” I tell her. “We’ll
be home by evening.”
“Oh, honey,” she says. “I’m so
sorry for everything, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t out of my mind happy
to have you coming home. I even set up a room for Cade. You’ll be very
comfortable, I promise.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Mom.
We can share a room. It’s okay, really.”
“Nonsense. It’s only right that he
has his own room.”
I know she doesn’t have the space
for it. After all, my childhood home is the rented apartment above our family’s
diner. But there’s no point in arguing with her. There never is.
“Did you have time to pick up the
material I need for school?” I change the subject.
I decided that if I was moving back
home, I’d at least better myself while I was here. Not that I had a choice in
the move. I hope to get into classes at K.U. in St. Petersburg. I’m thinking nursing
makes the most sense, if I can overcome my aversion to blood and pain.
Thankfully, there’s still time to get into the summer courses – if I get all
the material in this week.
“Everything is ready,” Mom says.
“You just get home.”
“I’m trying,” I say with a lump in
my throat. “I’m really trying.”
The drive south has been achingly
long. My neck is stiff and my butt is sore, so I shift my weight from cheek to
cheek. Outside the car, it continues to get warmer and greener with each
passing mile and it is such a welcome sight. We are finally making it into the
light. Not like Iowa was Siberia or anything. The change of seasons was
beautiful to experience, but the winters seemed to drag on for months. The
first snowfall would come by Thanksgiving and often stay until Easter. It was
nothing like I thought it’d be. But I guess that’s what happens when you live
for someone else’s dream instead of your own.
Still, I wouldn’t take it back. Not
for anything.
I stop for gas once we cross the
border into Florida. Shedding my coat, I let the spring sun warm my bare arms.
I can almost feel my skin soaking in the vitamin D. The other customers look at
me like I’m crazy because sixty degrees is jacket weather down here. But my
blood has thickened over the past three and a half years, and it feels like a
heat wave to me. I practically skip inside the station to pay, keeping an eye
on the car, and grab some M&Ms – Cade’s favorite. Then, I begin the last
leg of our journey home.
I actually release a cleansing
breath when I see the sign that reads:
Clearwater 30 miles
. My home is
just a few miles past in the sleepy beach village of Gulf Bay.
Our
home
now. My taut frame sinks into the seat in relief, and for the first time in
weeks, my lips turn up in a smile.
Soon, the stirring in the backseat
has me taking peeks at the review mirror. My everything is in that backseat
–
the only thing I need to be okay. He’s finally waking up.
“Mommy,” he says, his voice groggy
with sleep.
“Hi, Peanut Butter,” I answer,
taking another look in the mirror. My little man with his wide brown eyes. He’s
got my dark features, but his father’s killer smile.
“Are we at Grandma’s yet?” he asks
in a yawn.
“Almost,” I tell him. “But
remember, it’s going to be our house too.”
“Daddy too?” he asks.
“I don’t think so, buddy.”
“Because of the bevorce?”
“Yeah baby, because of the bevorce.
But don’t worry. We have Grandma, Auntie Serena, Uncle Jack and Auntie Philly,
and your cousins all waiting for us. You’re going to love it in Florida.”
Cade doesn’t cry or ask about his
dad again, he just gets quiet. That’s almost worse. I’d do anything to take
away his pain and his confusion, anything to keep him safe and happy. It’s what
I’ve always done.
Since I found out I was pregnant at
the end of senior year, every choice I’ve made has been for Cade. I thought
Alex was on the same page; I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Alex Anders. Captain of the high
school football team. Gorgeous. Top college prospect. One night stand. Father
of my child.
It was a shock at first, of course.
The kind of shock that has you taking twenty different pregnancy tests and
praying to any God who will listen, but in the end, it was the best thing that
ever happened to me. Once the realization set in, I made the most of it and did
what I had to do. I never looked back. Well maybe once or twice, though
that
had to do more with Alex than Cade.
