We Are US...
Sarah Ann Walker
We are US...
Sarah Ann Walker
Also by Author Sarah Ann Walker
I am HER…
THIS is me…
My Dear Stranger
LOST
Choices…
Copyright © 2015 1127 (011016) Sarah Ann Walker
Cover Design: James Freeburg
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-09917231-57
This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
We are US…
DEDicaTION
To Jakkob
I truly have no words to describe my love for you.
I try and try, but nothing ever seems like enough.
You are just everything in every moment between us.
Xo
Mommy
To Mr. Z Zinfandel
What can I say?
I made you and I love you.
You are the most patient man on the planet,
And as Suzanne said, you are everything to me.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
James, thank you for another amazing book cover. I love it.
To my parents, thank you for reading my books and for always telling me you love them, whether they are too dark or not.
Brennah, thank you for giving me my handsome nephew Zakkary, and my 2 beautiful nieces Piper-Ireland and Teaghan.
Paola, thank you for being my longest, dearest friend.
Silvana, thank you for making me laugh, and for totally getting me (still).
Sam, thank you for being my BBE- Best Brit Ever.
Amy, thank you for pimping me endlessly and selflessly. I look forward to these newest pics.
Olivia, Thank you for being my BIE- Best Italian Ever.
Brenda, thank you for still holding my hand way too often.
Randi Newman, thank you for your amazing support with this book, and for your constant, beautiful friendship. You are my most special stalker turned dear friend ever, and I love you and Mike to pieces.
Enjoy your couch.??
Darcy Villalobos, thank you for your support with this book. When I was Suzanne-like neurotic and crazy, you never lost patience with me, and I truly appreciate it.
A special thanks to Darcy, Diana, Amy, Julianne, and the Twisted Sisters.
Thank you Deniro, Samantha, Eli, Megan, MTO Diane, Jen, Katica, Glenda, Carla, Alanna, Coach & Christine, Tracy, Samantha, Suzanne, Elizabeth, Carole, Christie, Kim, Lustful Literature, and Triple M Books
to name a few…
And finally to Michelle New- you are forever my Teaser Queen.
I want to thank all the readers and bloggers who supported me these last 3 years. I wish I could name you all.
xo
Sarah
Shakespeare sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
Shakespeare Sonnet 116
Introduction
Inhale
Exhale
Breathe
Live
Love
Author’s Bio
Introduction
"Suzanne... I have to go. I'm so sorry, love, but I'm leaving."
Huh. His words I understand- even his facial expressions are known by me. His face screams love, sadness, and a stubborn finality I have come to know intimately. I know that look, just not as it suddenly applies to me. I know what he said, but I have no concept of what he’s saying.
"What? Um..." Giggle. Shit.
"I'll be at the Marriot. I already have a suite. The number is beside the bed. Call me for anything."
"But-"
"Anything, Suzanne. I will always help you if or when you need it."
"Um..." Holy shit. Can I speak? Can I say one friggin' word here? Just one word that doesn't sound like a grunt of some kind. "But..." Yup. That was a word.
"I love you, Suzanne. But I'm gone."
Ummmm...
Giggle.
NO!
Waking on a quick burst, Z reaches for me and places me on his chest while I struggle to breathe. Rubbing my back, Z kisses my head over and over again while I come back to us in our own room in our beautiful life together.
"I have you, Suzanne. I'm right here, love," he whispers against my hair as I exhale. I know he is. He’s always right here with me.
Z would never leave me. He promised.
INHALE
CHAPTER 1
"Good morning," I whisper against Z's chest. "You've gotta go to work this fine, fine Saturday. And I have to go to the wedding studio," I groan.
"I don't want to get up yet," Z pouts pulling the covers back up over our bodies. "It's Saturday."
"Me either. But I hear Mr. Zinfandel is a real prick to work for so you better get going," I tease.
"A real prick?" Z huffs. "I doubt he's ever been called a prick, Suzanne. Maybe a little demanding, but fair. Or maybe a little intense but accommodating. But a prick? I don't think so."
"Fine. Maybe I just added the prick part," I giggle into his side as he pinches my ass. "Get up, Mr. Zinfandel. There are too many women who need to swoon over you today, so you better get going," I growl.
"You're very cute when you get jealous. Adorable, really. No one ever swoons over me. And who says the word swoon, by the way?"
"I do. And yes they do. They all swoon over you and it's really annoying. I mean you're clearly married," I grumble. "But they don't seem to care."
"I am married- very happily married, I might add. But I don't need to add it because everyone knows I'm happily married and not the least bit interested in anyone else but my jealous, beautiful, neurotic little wife."
"They might know it, but they still flirt." Pulling me closer to look at his face, Z smiles at me in his super sexy way, and I want to hit him. "I hope to hell you don't smile at them like that!"
"Like what? Like this?" He says smiling brighter than before until I growl again and hide my face in his neck. "Suzanne, no one flirts with me."
"Every single woman who meets you, talks to you, or simply drives past you on the street flirts with you. What about that woman Deirdre? Did you see her wipe the drool from her chin last night when you were speaking?" I ask as Z bursts out laughing.
"Drool?"
"Yes, drool. God, Z, she was glaring at me all night but staring, smiling, and swooning over you at the same time. Right in front of me!"
"No, I didn't notice. Which is kind of the point, isn't it? I don't give a shit who’s looking at me, as long as you're looking at me." Oh. Damn, he's good.
"Okay, I feel better after that comment. Good one, Z."
"Thank you, Suzanne," he teases again pulling me closer to him.
"Can I dress you today?" I ask as he pauses suspiciously.
Looking at my eyes when I raise my head, Z grins, "What will I be wearing if I agree?"
"Um, those old holey sw
eat pants with the paint on them and that sweat stained uglyass pink t-shirt you won't throw out."
"Salmon," he says with the grin I love.
"Whatever. It's pink and hideous. So I'd appreciate it if you wore that today instead of one of your sexy suits."
"Though I'm meeting with a California buyer this morning and my clothing might look a little inappropriate as we settle in?"
"Yes, please. Have you seen you in a suit?"
"I have. Have you seen me in a suit?"
"I have."
"And do you like the way I look in a suit?"
"Yes. I love the way you look in a suit."
"Then I'm wearing a suit, so maybe my beautiful, stunning, amazing wife will swoon at me today," he says again kissing the top of my head.
"Okay." I snuggle into his side. "But don't let anyone else flirt with you, okay?"
"I don't even notice anyone else. You are all I notice, Suzanne." Again with the perfect comment. God, I love this man.
Smiling, I climb up his chest and kiss his lips even with our nasty morning breath. "Go to work, Mr. Zinfandel. There are women to ignore, and lots of wine to sell."
"And the Rinaldi's to avoid," he fake shudders.
"Thank god this wedding is only a week away. Wish me luck," I beg pulling away from Z to get dressed.
"Good luck. Call me if they get too crazy for you," he grins knowing full well I'm still the craziest of us all- but just barely.
"I love you, Z," I say simply as he nods with his sexy as hell smile which is all for me, apparently.
➰➰➰➰➰
Walking into the wedding boutique, or hell as I like to call it, I'm immediately assaulted by Korn. Who the hell would've thought Kayla actually loved the band Korn, or that her mother would allow her to play them LOUDLY at her wedding preparations? I didn't know, and I still can't believe Kayla won this round against her mother. But here I am. Standing in the doorway to HELL with Korn blasting in my head.
"Suzanne! You're late and my mother is going to kill you!" Kayla yells over the music while pulling me further into the store.
"Well, as your fiancé once said, 'I'm only 5 minutes late which is actually 25 minutes early by Manhattan's standard of time.'"
"My finance is an idiot," she laughs looping her arm through mine.
"Suzanne!" Turning, I'm immediately afraid of Mrs. Rinaldi's tone. Coming at me like a friggin' bulldozer, she doesn't even smile. "Go try on your dress."
"Mom! Say hi to Suzanne."
Shaking her head like we’re speaking a different language, Mrs. Rinaldi quickly clues in. "What? Oh. Hello, Suzanne. Now please go try on your dress. And make Kayla turn this ear shit OFF! I'm going to hit somebody soon out of sheer frustration!"
"Not gonna happen," Kayla pushes.
Turning into Kayla's side I beg, "Um... just a little lower? Please?" I'll support Kayla against her mom and sisters anytime but I've got to be honest, this 'ear shit' is making me a little mental myself. "It's bothering me a little," I whisper as Kayla stops moving to look hard at my face. Yup. She gets it. I can see recognition dawn on her face immediately.
"Jesus CHRIST! First the rosettes, now Korn? I really hate you, Suzanne," she pouts.
"Sorry," I breathe as Kayla storms off for presumably the sound system.
Leaning into me Kayla's mom whispers, "You are completely forgiven for the rosettes now."
"You're welcome," I laugh walking away for the change room with my name tag on the door.
Once inside, I again pause to look at the black monstrosity I have to wear. Originally, I was given the 'you're going to love the dress- and you'll totally be able to wear it again, it's so awesome' speech, which I quickly turned into the 'I love it!' response hiding my gag and an 'as if I'll ever be caught dead in this dress again' pout with a smile.
Like all bridesmaid dresses, circa 1992, you just hope people looking at you remember you had no say over the dress, and for whatever reason the bride who actually likes you wants to make you the most hideous creature imaginable on her special day, whether consciously or not. And sadly, Kayla is no different. She unconsciously hates me and wants me to be hideous so she is the gorgeous one on her wedding day. There is NO other explanation for the atrocious gown she wants me to wear.
Once dressed, which was really hard because of the weird crisscross back straps that turn into a giant friggin' bow on my already large enough ass, I walk out to Kayla, her sisters Paola and Laura, and Mrs. Rinaldi beaming. Smiling, I hold the dress nausea in check and do a little twirl for everyone. At least I got the dress in black, which was a major battle won, thank god.
"I still don't understand why she gets to wear black and we have to be in that gross purple color," Paola whines for the thousandth time. And here we go.
Yup. The yelling match gets heated once again. These 3 sisters are amazing, and truly, I think Mrs. Rinaldi is the craziest of them all. For 2 months now they have had this same fight every single time we all meet up for dress fittings. Out of desperation, I even offered to change dress color to the dreaded purple to help Kayla against the other 3, but thankfully, she refused. Without selling me out as formerly totally mental to her mom and sisters, she insisted I had to have the black dress to stand out as her maid of honor. But the battle continues anyway.
Walking to a big slouchy chair, I plop my fat ass in it, crush the giant bow, and reach for the bottle of wine sitting chilled in the ice bucket. Not even pouring into a glass, I take a gulp right from the bottle as I watch The Rinaldi Show, as Mack calls it.
Drinking, I watch as loudly they continue. Point. Counterpoint. Oh no… It looks like Kayla might actually lose, and I'm scared to death. Kayla losing isn’t good for anybody.
And then I'm spotted. Shit.
"Oh my god, Suzanne. Could you be any tackier?" Laura suddenly yells as they all turn to look at me.
But before I can answer, Kayla jumps in yelling right in Laura's face, "Yes, she can!" Which I think was supposed to help, but came out backhanded at best.
Turning dramatically, Kayla practically rips the wine bottle from my hand as she chugs half the bottle in one breath. Jesus Christ!
"Pass it over," I try, but Kayla just shakes her head no as she plops down in the chair beside me.
"Honestly. Do you hate your dress?" She begs sadly.
"Not at all," I lie. A white lie. The good kind of lie. A little white lie only to ease her mind. So it's not really the bad kind of lie.
"Thank god. I've had that dress in my mind since I was a little girl." No shit, I almost giggle. "And it's always been my favorite. I'm so glad you like it," she smiles, and I just can't hurt her feelings. Taking her hand I squeeze until she smiles at me and hands over the bottle of wine.
"I have to go soon. Z and I are going to that party at Manchester’s tonight for the Save the whales, or Save the environment, or the Save... something foundation. I can't even remember what this one is for, but I think Z knows. I hope he does," I grin.
"He's too funny with all his donating. Half the time he doesn't know shit about it. I've asked him myself why he does it and he just shrugged at me and said, 'I have it to give'," Kayla laughs.
"I know. I mean there are actual causes he really cares about, but then some he just does because an employee asked, or a friend of a friend asked. I don't know. But sometimes it's a bit much for me going out in public all the time," I confess.
"You're doing so well, Suzanne. Nobody would even know you're crazy," she smirks.
"Ha! Thanks," I grin taking the bottle back for another gulp of wine. "Um, are your sisters coming out or are they too pissed to let us see their purple nightmares?"
"They'll come out, if for nothing else than to bitch about their ugly dresses again," Kayla shakes her head.
"They're not ugly. And once they get their tans on Friday, they'll look awesome," I smile because she needs it. And so what if I told another tiny lie. It's for the greater good, Kayla's greater good.
"I can't wai
t for Kayla to get here," I admit thinking of how much fun it'll be to have the Rinaldi's take on my Chicago Kayla.
Though they've met a few times, Chicago Kayla was on her best behavior each time, letting a few comments go and a few looks go unpunished. But the few intentional remarks about Kayla's friends getting whatever they wanted almost had her engage.
Apparently, after the rosette incident which thankfully Chicago Kayla was here for, the Rinaldi sisters were about to trash me but Chicago Kayla gave a death glare that shut them right up as I struggled with getting my shit together.
"Thank god, the seamstress has another store in Chicago. Could you even imagine my mother if she thought Kayla wasn't getting fitted until 2 days before the wedding?" Kayla shudders as we continue watching her sisters come out twisting and turning to complain about their dresses to their mom.
Passing the wine bottle back, I know I've probably chugged a whole glass which is more than enough plus it's really time for me to go. I'm getting my hair styled in the afternoon before Z comes home to change for the benefit.
"I really have to go. But I'll see you tomorrow for brunch, k?"
"Oh, go ahead," Kayla huffs. "Leave me with this crazy. Honest to god," she whines as her accent thickens. "I don't want to be here either, but I'll see you tomorrow," she leans over and kisses my cheek as I rise for the change room.
Undressing quickly, I can still hear the group of them going at it, and I'm exhausted by them. Honestly, if I had the nerve I'd tell Kayla's sisters to shut the hell up, but I don’t. They scare the shit out of me, and with the way they gang up on someone, they'd slaughter me in a heartbeat.
