Amends: A Love Story (25 page)

"No, no," I say, pulling his arm around me.
"I don't want you to apologize. I just want to know why you came
here in the first place."

He sighs, and his body goes rigid. "I don't
know. To pay my respects. To express my sorrow. To find
forgiveness. Of course, I know your mother can't forgive me. It's
not possible. I just..."

Laird's voice breaks and so does the strong,
brave front I've been maintaining all day. We both collapse into
sobs and into each other. I press myself against him and feel his
hot, wet tears on my neck.

"I forgive you," I choke out between sobs.
"As my mother's only surviving heir, I've inherited the right to
speak on her behalf. I forgive you. She forgives you. We forgive
you."

Laird cannot speak, but I know his burden has
gotten inestimably lighter. He murmurs something that sounds a lot
like "I love you." I silence him with a soft kiss that begets many
more. We come together in grief, hope, and desire. Our kisses are
hot and searing. They burn through the past and illuminate the
present. We hold and touch and kiss each other until our lips are
tender and raw. Sighing, I lean against him and press the full
length of my body into his. We stay like that, locked in a healing,
loving embrace.

Then the groundskeeper tells us to stop
making out in the cemetery, or he'll call the police.

We hold hands and laugh all the way back to
our cars.

Chapter 30: Laird

Six months later

Her long, wild hair is bundled into a
hairnet, and she's moving faster than the slow, elegant pace she
prefers. She calls to me from across the floor, her voice shaded
with impatience.

"I need two super double-shot mochas, a large
half-caf skinny latté, and a medium cappuccino, or your ass is
mine!"

I yell back. "My ass is already yours,
sweetcakes!" I imagine her blushing furiously as I work the
espresso machine. Quickly and carefully, I pour the caffeinated
fluids into their respective cups and glance up at the clock. My
shift ends at noon, which gives me thirty minutes to get to track
practice.

I wasn't sure if I was going
to be able to stay at Adams after Dad cut me off. But when I
explained my unique situation to the dean, she was surprisingly
accommodating. I suppose the fact that Dad regularly donates labs
and classrooms didn't hurt, either. Anyway, part of the deal was
that I join the track team as a shot putter—which basically means I
throw around a big, heavy ball with a scowl on my face. I've
finally been able to stop smirking when Track Coach tells me
to
feel the ball.

As Amity loads the drinks onto her tray, I
discreetly kiss her neck. She emits a soft, low moan, so quiet only
I can hear it. I'm looking forward to this summer, when I'll get to
see her in a bikini practically every day. We're going to rent a
tiny cabin on the Triple Marsh side of Lake Everclear, where we can
swim and lounge and love all day. By night, we'll serve drinks to
tourists and wear funny hats.

On the weekends, Amity will be an intern in
the pediatrics department at Jasper Heights Community Hospital, the
same hospital where her mother worked. It was actually Brenda, one
of her mother's friends, who got her the job. She's glad that
she'll be able to spend time somewhere her mother was so well
loved.

It's ten minutes to noon. Time for me to go.
I hurry to the break room and go to my cubby. As I'm I transferring
its contents into my gym bag, Amity appears behind me. I can smell
her citrus perfume and feel her strong, slender hands rubbing my
shoulders and filling me with warm, liquid desire.

"Have a good practice," she whispers.

She flashes me a smile and heads back to the
main kitchen. She still walks with a limp, but her movements are
more fluid than they used be. Happier. I think of the black, velvet
box hidden in the bottom of my bag. I'm hoping it will bring her
even more joy.

Of course, I couldn't afford
a new ring. Or even a used one. But I have something better. Mom
left me her engagement ring—a chunky emerald flanked by
diamonds—and a terse note that simply says,
For the right one.
For me, that's
Amity.

And I think Mom would approve.

the end

Enjoy this book?

If you enjoyed this book, I
hope you'll sign up for my
very occasional email list
.
You'll receive updates on new projects as well as free books from
my backlist (published under other pseudonyms), review copies, and
links to fun giveaways.

E.J.'s notes on
Amends: A Love Story

I wrote this book under the
name Shanda Fisch. Basically, it's two novellas smashed together
(e.g., Book One and Book Two). If you check out the reviews on
Goodreads, you'll see how this approach worked for some readers and
not for others.

About E.J.
Swenson

E.J. Swenson is a business journalist by day
and a writer of quirky, romantic, and downright dirty stories by
night. She writes under a pseudonym because her colleagues and
family would be shocked―SHOCKED!―to see the dark and twisty places
where her imagination likes to roam. When she's not tethered to her
computer, she's avidly reading all kinds of genre fiction, baking
(and resisting the siren call of excess baked goods), and keeping
track of her two small children.

How to find E.J. online

Email:
[email protected]
(I love to hear from readers!)

Website:
http://ejswensonwrites.com

Blog:
http://ejswensonwrites.com/e-j-s-blog/

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/ejswensonwrites

Twitter:
https://twitter.com/EJSwensonWrites

Goodreads:
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8122710.E_J_Swenson

Pinterest:
http://www.pinterest.com/ejswensonwrites/