It Was Us Read online

  I knew that I was smiling like a fool at my best friend but I couldn't help it.

  “Anyway, I know you both wrote your own vows,” he said, looking from me to Abby. “So, instead of me rambling on like a fool, please share with us what you promise to one another.”

  Abby turned to Tana, who handed her a small index card. Abby looked at me, took a deep breath, then read from the card shaking in her hand.

  “West, I can't imagine my life without you.” Her voice was soft but strong. “I promise to laugh with you. To cry with you. To be sad with you. To be happy with you. I promise to be a better wife than you could ever hope for and the best mother I can possibly be. I promise to always offer you the rest of my burrito when I can't eat it all. I promise to listen to you and help you when you ask for it, support you when you need it.” She looked up from the card, her eyes wet. “And I promise to love you for every minute for the rest of our lives.”

  I was pretty sure my eyes were wet, too, and that my heart was ready to explode.

  Griffin looked at me, then pulled a card from his pocket and held it out to me.

  I shook my head. “I'm good.”

  He nodded and put it back in his pocket.

  “You memorized?” Abby said, her eyes wide. “You said you weren't going to memorize.”

  “Shh,” I said. “It's my turn.”

  She shook her head but couldn't stop smiling.

  I took her hands and lifted my eyes to hers.

  “Abby, I'm the luckiest person alive,” I said. “Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for making me a better person. Thank you for making me happy. Thank you for making me care.” I smiled at her. “I promise to take care of you. I promise to always hold your hand. I promise to be the best husband and father I can be. I promise to always let you be in charge of the radio in the car. I promise to always look at you the way I'm looking at you right now. And I promise to love you more with each passing day.” I squeezed her hands and she smiled back at me.

  I looked at Griffin to let him know that I was finished.

  Griffin returned the nod. He opened the book in his hand and cleared his throat. “Now, to symbolize the love you've promised to one another, you'll exchange rings you've brought.”

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the same ring I'd given Abby on the Fourth of July. She hadn't wanted a wedding band and, despite my objections, had insisted on just the single ring. I held it between my thumb and index finger and she rested her hand in my other hand. I slid the ring gently over her finger until it fit into place.

  Abby turned to Tana, then back to me. She was holding the simple silver band we'd found for me. I hadn't wanted anything fancy, as I wasn't crazy about jewelry to begin with. But she'd found a perfect silver ring that wasn't too small or too large and looked right on my finger. As she slipped it on and set it in place, it felt exactly right.

  We both turned to Griffin.

  “You've said your vows,” he said. “And you've exchanged your rings. And no one has voiced an objection to this union.” He smiled first at me, then at Abby. “I know this is gonna be weird to hear, but by the power vested in me by the state of California, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He grinned at me. “You may kiss the bride, dude.”

  I laughed and took Abby's face in my hands. I stared at her, my eyes searching hers. She was definitely crying now. I kissed her for a long moment.

  “We're married,” she whispered when I pulled back.

  I laughed and nodded, then kissed her again.

  “I know,” I said. I needed to repeat the words, repeat what she'd just said because it felt surreal, like I couldn't believe I was luck enough to have her. Forever. “We're married.”

  EPILOGUE

  WEST

  January

  A cry woke me up. It was soft, almost like a cat's meow, but much more insistent, rhythmic. I stirred in the bed, adjusting the pillow so it covered my ear. Abby shifted next to me, pressing her knee into the back of my thigh.

  The sound grew louder and I sat up, disoriented.

  “The baby,” Abby murmured, rubbing her eyes.

  I lifted the comforter and slipped out of bed. “Stay here,” I whispered. “I'll go.”

  Griffin's old room was bathed in a soft glow, a nightlight in the shape of a moon plugged in to one of the outlets. I crossed the room in three quick steps and leaned over the crib. I scooped up the baby, my arms gentle, and sat down in the glider rocker tucked into the corner of the room. There was a fleece blanket draped across the arm and I threw it over both of us, bouncing my foot just a little so the rocker glided us soundlessly, effortlessly. The cries subsided to hiccups and soon, the room was silent.

  I closed my eyes and tightened my grip just a little, my fingers hooked into the fabric of the blanket. I was tired as shit—it was the second time I'd gotten up that night—but I didn't care. It didn't matter. Because I was happy.

  I let the memories wash over me, the last few weeks somehow both a blur and yet, surprisingly, crystal clear. It was hard to believe that, three short weeks ago, we'd been sitting at Abby's parents house on Christmas Day, a celebration not of gifts but of memories. Sure, there was stuff to open under the Christmas tree but I knew what we were all grateful for: that Abby's mom's health was okay for now, that she'd come through treatment pretty well and that all of her tests were coming back normal; that the pregnancy had gone smooth and that we were on course for having a healthy baby; that my application to State had been accepted and I'd be starting classes as soon as the winter semester started.

  For me and Abby, we celebrated other things, too: that we'd managed to turn the apartment into a place we could, at least initially, raise a baby; that she'd been able to keep up with work at the real estate office and had actually made the time to take classes and get her real estate license; and that I'd been promoted to assistant manager of the baseball academy, ensuring a much better salary than just working as an instructor.

  We had a lot to be thankful for. After all of the shit and heartache we'd been through over the past couple of years, things were mellowing out. I didn't know if it was normal because I wasn't sure what normal was, but we were busily, happily settling into the life we were creating.

  I rocked the glider a little more and I dropped my head so it rested on the bundled blanket in my lap. I thought I'd know what it felt to have a heart full to bursting. I thought I knew how much love I was capable of because it was what I felt every time I looked at Abby.

  But then January 2 came along and everything changed. Everything I thought I'd known, everything I was, everything we were.

  Because that was the day our family was born.

  My lips moved against the fabric of the blanket, nudging it aside so I could kiss the tiny, almost-bald head of the baby I was holding, the baby nestled in my arms. My baby. My heart slammed into my ribs and I held my breath, worried the tiny, delicate human being cradled against me would feel it. But there was only a soft sigh, a tiny hiccup of a breath and fluttering eyelids. I slowly expelled my breath and gazed down in the darkened light at the new person who held a piece of my heart, a piece of my soul.

  “Are you coming back to bed?” Abby's voice was barely a whisper.

  I glanced up and saw her silhouette in the darkened room. She was only a couple of weeks postpartum, her stomach still swollen, her entire body still carrying much of the extra weight she'd gained during pregnancy. But I didn't give a shit. I looked at her from across the room and saw her dark hair barely visible, her blue eyes shining, the hint of a smile on her tired face.

  I nodded. “Yeah. In a minute.”

  She stared at me, then shook her head, smiling. “Hurry. I'm cold.” And she retreated back to the bedroom.

  I returned my attention to the bundle in my lap. I wasn't going to hurry. I was going to savor every single second, every single minute.

  This was my time and I wasn't going to forget a minute of it. And I sure as hell wasn't going
to fuck it up.

  I tugged the blanket a little lower. Two eyes stared back at me, a brilliant, milky blue. Just like Abby's. Dark hair, just like Abby's. And, in a few weeks, I was pretty sure I would see a smile, just like Abby's.

  “Amanda Grace Montgomery,” I whispered to the perfect human being staring back at me. “I love you.”

  There was no just me and there was no just Abby anymore.

  There was simply us.

  And that was exactly how I wanted it to be.

  Forever.

  THE END

  ABOUT ANNA

  Anna Cruise has been writing and drooling over boys since middle school. Lots of years have passed but some things never change...

  IT WAS US is her sixth novel. You can find Anna on Twitter and Facebook and you can follow her blog.

  Additional titles include:

  IT WAS YOU

  IT WAS ME

  IF I FALL

  MAVERICK

  SET IN STONE

  DOWN BY THE WATER

  Keep reading for an excerpt of MAVERICK

  MAVERICK

  PROLOGUE

  I stared at the papers and pictures spread out on the bed in front of me. Advertisements. Articles. Candid shots. One person stared back at me.

  Kellen Handler.

  I tried to focus on the task at hand, the task I was being asked to do. No, I amended. I wasn't being asked. I was being told. Ordered.

  I saw his sun-kissed hair, thick with salt and sweat from hours on the waves. I saw blue-green eyes that matched the color of the ocean. I saw browned skin and the smooth, ripped abs and chest that screamed surfer.

  The cocky smile as he hawked sunglasses or board shorts. The look of intense concentration captured in photo spreads as he navigated the waves or eased himself into the barrel of some epic wave.

  I tried to detach from who he was and all that he represented. But I couldn't.

  He represented everything I'd loved.

  And everything I now hated.

  I swallowed hard and repositioned myself on the bed. I tucked my hair behind my ears and stared down at the pictures again. I played with the gold hoop in my ear, fingering it with my thumb and forefinger, then shifted so I was toying with a lock of hair. Winding it around my finger, as tight as I could, then releasing.

  It wasn't him, I told myself. I didn't know him. I'd never been part of the pro surfing world. But the locals? The boys I'd grown up with? My brothers and their friends...and my friends, too? Those were the guys I'd spent my life with. Following them to the beach and out into the water. Letting them try to teach me how to ride the waves when I was younger. And, when I was older, accompanying them at the crack of dawn to watch them shred and do their best to, if not tame the waves, at least ride them for a little while before being tossed to shore.

  I'd spent my entire life as part of them. Cheering them on. Encouraging them. And loving them. My brothers. My friends. And Luke.

  I felt the tears threaten and I blinked several times, trying to stem them.

  Kellen Handler was not Luke. Would never be Luke.

  He was a job.

  ONE

  Something—no, someone—was rubbing against my leg. Soft skin, silky smooth, gliding back and forth over my calf. My thigh. Fingertips traveled from my hip to my stomach.

  I grunted and forced my eyes open. A naked chick with blond hair was curled up next to me. A naked chick whose name I couldn't remember.

  She bent her head close to my bare chest and her lips grazed my skin. She glanced up. “Good morning,” she said, her voice soft.

  Her long hair was a mess of tangles and her mascara was smudged but she was still beautiful. Tan and thin, her tits the best money could buy. She looked like half the other chicks in Southern California. Hell, she looked like all the chicks in SoCal.

  I yawned and the odor hit me. She smelled like cigarettes and stale beer. And sex.

  Or maybe that was me.

  “Hey,” I mumbled.

  She smiled and lowered her head again. Her tongue danced in circles on my skin as her fingers trailed down my stomach. I should have felt something, some little spark in my gut, some twinge in my cock. But I felt nothing.

  Chelsea?

  Cheryl?

  What was her name? Something with a Ch. I was pretty sure of that.

  I swallowed. My mouth was bone-dry, like someone had shoved a handful of cotton down my throat. I rubbed at my eyes and glanced at the nightstand. Four cans of Bud Light littered the top, along with a flashing alarm clock and a discarded black lace thong. I pushed the panties to the floor and picked up a can. Empty. So was the next one. The third was half-full and I downed the warm, flat beer, washing away the cotton in my mouth.

  I set the can back down and looked at the top of Ch's head. She'd stayed glued to me, her hand traveling lower, her fingers brushing the tip of my dick.

  “Yo. I gotta go.”

  Her tongue licked at my nipple and she kicked at the sheet so she was fully exposed. My eyes traveled the length of her body and I drew a quick breath. At least I hadn't been so drunk that I'd brought some sea hag back to my room. I could have done worse. Much, much worse.

  I closed my eyes, trying to remember. Chantelle? Charity?

  “Hey,” I said, rubbing my temple and re-opening my eyes. “You hear me?”

  Ch lifted her head and gave me what I'm sure she thought was an incredibly seductive look. “You can be a little late,” she said, tightening her grip on me.

  The bummer part for her was that I'd seen that look a hundred times before. And I'd see it again the next morning. Same look, just different faces.

  “I already am,” I said, easing out from under her. My legs were heavy, tired, as I set them on the floor. Wasn't gonna be good for the waves. “So I gotta jet.”

  “Come on, baby,” she said, sliding her body across the sheets. “We can be fast. Get your blood pumping before your heat.”

  I rolled my eyes and started searching the hotel room for my board shorts. I didn't need her to get my blood pumping. The only thing that got my blood pumping any more was the water. I'd probably said something to her in the bar the night before. Something clever, something that made her feel like I really wanted to be with her, something that got her excited, knowing she was going to get to fuck the best surfer in the world.

  But I couldn't even remember her name.

  I found my shorts, light blue and white, wadded into a ball under the desk. I reached down and pulled them out. I unrolled them and slipped them up over my legs.

  “No time,” I said, tying the drawstrings tightly around my waist.

  She sat up and tugged on the sheet, covering her ass but leaving her tits exposed. “Well, I guess we'll have to save it for tonight then.”

  I could feel her eyes on me as I crossed the room. It was a nice hotel—the best Huntington Beach had to offer—but to me, it was just another place to crash. A place to sleep before I woke up and started the same shit all over again. I grabbed a container of mints sitting on the dresser and popped two of them in my mouth, feeling the mint burn away the lingering taste of alcohol. I rolled them around with my tongue, making sure I hit every spot. The tour frowned at alcohol on my breath at check-in. I kept thinking they'd get used to it, but it hadn't happened yet.

  “Kellen?” the girl asked, pulling the sheet tighter around her, sort of like a topless toga. “We can hook up tonight? Right?”

  I crouched down, looking for my t-shirt. I found more of her discarded clothing—a black lace bra, a skirt that looked like it hadn't covered nearly half her ass—but couldn't find mine.

  I straightened myself and looked at her. “What?”

  “We can hook up tonight, right?”

  I frowned. What was her name? Cheyenne?

  “We hooked up last night,” I said.

  She smiled at me. “I know. So we should do it again. Because we, like, totally clicked.”

  We hadn't. I knew exactly why she was
naked in my hotel bed and it wasn't because I'd suddenly decided she was the one. I'd been drunk. I hadn't wanted to be alone. And she was beautiful.

  I knew there was no way she could believe what she was spewing, either. She didn't give a shit about me. She didn't even know me. She wanted to do me because of who I was. She wanted to hang on. She wanted to tell her friends she was hooking up with Kellen Handler.

  I tossed my stuff in the beat-up blue duffel flattened on top of the dresser. My boards were already on the beach, waiting for me. Along with about three thousand spectators. And Jay's ghost.

  I slid my feet into my sandals. I ran my hand through my hair and offered her a half-smile. “Stay as long as you want this morning. Think checkout's at noon.”

  Her face fell and I'd seen it before. Disappointed, mad, maybe even sad. Nah, I thought. Not sad. She just wanted the conquest, thinking she was the one who was finally going to reel me in.

  “Don't you want my number?” she asked. “I'm not some psycho that—”

  “I don't even remember your name,” I said, trying not to sound too harsh. “And I'm sure you're cool, OK? But it was one night. I'm outta here tomorrow. So there's really no point.”

  She loosened the sheet, pulling it up over her breasts. She'd lost a little of her confidence. “Yeah, but next time you come through, you could call me. We could hook up again.” She offered a tentative smile. “Pretty sure you had fun.”