Broken (31 page)

Angie took Brody and waited beside Will, while Adam came toward me. With one hand outstretched, he guided me to the center of the rose heart.

“This looks beautiful, babe,” I said, still looking around in awe at the decorations.

“I'm glad you like it.” He shook his head, his eyes running up and down my body. “You look stunning, Evie. I feel like I'm dreaming, but if it is a dream, I don't ever want to wake up.” He brought my hands to his lips, kissing the back of each tenderly. “This is all I've wanted, since I first learned about love. To find someone to share my life with, but in my wildest dreams, I never imagined it would be someone as wonderful and caring and breathtakingly beautiful as you.”

Dabbing at my eyes, I leaned in to Adam, resting my forehead to his. “I'm here for you. To support you, and care for you, but most of all, to love you. Lean on me when you need to, because in so many ways you've helped me when I've needed to lean on you.”

“That's what love is.”

“And that's what we have.”

Vowing our love for each other as the sun set with our closest family beside us was the perfect way to start this new chapter of our lives together. As Adam was told he could kiss his bride, Will and Angie stepped in and wrapped their arms around us, surrounding us with love and support.

We knew there was a tough road ahead of us. Adam was not cured, but for now, he was still alive and we would fight this together.

P
ulling the blanket tighter around my body for warmth, I gazed down through misted eyes at Adam's journals, as they lay on the sand before me. It had been twelve months since he'd handed them to me on our wedding night, telling me that if I wanted to know all the secrets they held, when I felt ready I could read them.

I hadn't wanted to at the time, not wanting to look anywhere but toward our future. I'd wrapped them in my yellow sweater and shoved them in a drawer, certain I would never get them out. But that was then. Finally, I felt strong enough emotionally to know all the hard truths.

My gorgeous diamond ring sparkled in the early morning sun, and I kissed it lightly before tentatively reaching for the second journal and removing the bookmark that held my place. Over the past few mornings I had read of the exact moment Adam had been diagnosed, all the anger, despair, and fear woven through the pages. I could tell immediately the way he was feeling by his handwriting, the blue ink bold or faint, printed neatly or scrawled, his mood shining through. I had read of Adam's decision to not go through with the surgery, and been swallowed by my own despair as I read of his decision to come to the Hamptons where he would decide his own fate.

And he had decided.

Meeting me had been the most remarkable turning point for Adam, and just knowing that filled me with so much pride. I was proud that I'd had such an impact on his life, but I was also proud of Adam for choosing to fight.

For choosing to live.

As I read Adam's deepest thoughts, I related those times to my own experiences, the other half of the story. All my fears over Annabel had been totally unwarranted as I read how Adam had thought only of me while he was in Philadelphia and how he had driven for hours without a break to come back as quickly as possible.

Turning the page, I smiled, knowing where we were up to in our love story. And there it was, taped to one side of the page, the photo of Adam and me at the ice rink. Tears filled my eyes as I traced the curve of Adam's strong jawline with my fingertips. It was still one of my favorite photos of the two of us together, but now there were many more that sat proudly on the mantel above the fireplace. From wedding photos to beautiful family portraits, we had captured every treasured moment.

As I flicked to the next entry in the journal, my heart thudded against my chest. Adam had alluded to how strongly he felt about me over the last dozen or so pages, declaring his love for me in so many ways, but here it was in unmistakable big bold capital letters.

Tears sprang to my eyes and I put the journal down as his words rang in my mind. I had saved his life, but I'd never thought to tell him how he had saved mine. How his faith in me had given me the courage to be the person I had always wanted to be. To follow my dreams, feeling his love and support surrounding me like angel's wings.

Reading the journal, it suddenly dawned on me why I felt my writing of late had been lacking. How could I write about happily-ever-afters and grand love affairs when those stories didn't hold a candle to our own real life? From the moment we met, my life with Adam had been more of a fairy tale than anything anyone could ever imagine and put into print.

Adam's story deserved to be told, not just in these journals, but also in a way that could give hope to people who faced dire adversity in their lives. People who needed to know that they were not alone.

Adam's story could give them the courage to fight.

But it had to be handled in just the right way. I didn't want him to be remembered for the tumor, because there was so much more. He wasn't a walking disease, as he had put it. He was a passionate, talented, generous man whose heart was also filled with love and compassion…and an island, just for me.

Max bound toward the water, flicking up sand as he passed. Laughing at his enthusiasm on this cold morning, I delighted in his predictability as he chased the seagulls, barking excitedly.

More sand was flicked up as a naked, bearded man jogged past. Turning to face me, he continued toward the water, jogging backward.

“Are you coming in, Buttercup?”

Slipping my arms from the blanket, the chill in the air hit my skin. “It's freezin' this mornin', Sugar. Maybe I'll sit this one out.”

He smiled. “Will's watching Brody, and he promised not to look out the window.”

“And you believe him this time?”

His rich laugh warmed me. “No, not really, although he is pretty preoccupied with Angie coming to stay for the weekend.”

Shaking my head, I pulled the blanket tighter.

He shrugged, his eyes dancing as they scanned my face. “It's your life, your adventure. How will you choose to live it?”

I watched as his lily-white ass made its way to the shoreline.

We had vowed to live each day as if it were the last, because we never knew when that day would be. So what was I doing sitting here?

Throwing off the warmth of the blanket, I jumped up. “Adam, wait for me. I'm comin' too!”

Lisa Edward is the author of the Songbird trilogy, the novel
Ripped
, the novella
Duty of Care,
and she is a contributor to the anthology of short stories in
Hook & Ladder 69
. While Lisa has called Melbourne, Australia, home for her entire life, she has lived and worked in England, and traveled through most parts of Europe and the United States. She loves nothing more than spending time with her beautiful daughter, or curling up into the early hours of the morning with a great novel.

By day, Lisa works in the analytical IT field, so she relishes the opportunity to foster her creative side through writing. Her deep appreciation for literature was nurtured from a young age, being taught to respect books and get lost in their stories. She enjoys reading honest and realistic novels that are relatable, thought provoking, and leave a lasting impression. She can't write without music playing, using the emotions from different songs to invoke those of her characters. Lisa takes inspiration from her own life experiences, the people around her, and those she has met in her travels.

Songbird
(#1, Songbird)

Songbird Caged
(#2, Songbird)

Duty of Care
(novella)

Songbird Freed
(#3, Songbird)

Hook & Ladder 69
(short story)

Ripped

 

Another book written. Who would have thought?

First I'd like to give a big, warm, fuzzy hug of thanks to the wonderful, supportive Author BFFs who are a constant source of encouragement, laughs and knowledge. Your willingness to share ideas and marketing tips is refreshing. There is enough room in this industry for all of us. You ladies are my book family and I guarantee we will meet one day—why do you all live so far away?

To the bloggers who gave me a chance from the start and have supported my endeavors to write something worth reading. There are too many to mention and I don't want to forget anyone, but please know that if you've reviewed or participated in a release, I appreciate it more than you could know. To me, you're more than bloggers. I consider you friends and value each and every one of you.

Thank you to Aussie author Kirsty Dallas for allowing me to pay homage to the extremely talented Decker Steele, from Decker's Wood. He taught Evie a thing or two with his award-winning tricks.

To my rocks—Monica, Mel, Ariana, Donna, Tennille, Sali. Your input and opinions are invaluable, as is your friendship. I love each and every one of you.

Thank you to the wonderful team at Forever Yours, Hachette Book Group USA, and especially Madeleine Colavita for your patience. I know I've bugged you incessantly with a million and one questions about the process, and you've answered them all.

 

Thank you to Emily Sylvan Kym from Prospect Literary Agency for believing in this manuscript and passing it on to the people who matter. I will be forever grateful.

Finally, thank you to my family. My gorgeous little angel, Layla, who makes me want to strive to be the best mum I can be. And to my parents, and my sister and her family for their unwavering support.

I hope you enjoy this book as much as I loved writing it.