Always and Forever Read online

  ALWAYS AND FOREVER

  An Ever After Romance

  Linda Poitevin

  Michem Publishing, Canada

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the sole product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locations is coincidental.

  ALWAYS AND FOREVER

  Published by Michem Publishing

  Copyright 2018 by Linda Poitevin

  Cover art by Kanaxa

  ISBN: 9780991995899

  All rights reserved.

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold, leased, given away, or otherwise distributed in any electronic or printed form to anyone else without written permission. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work and not supporting or encouraging piracy. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Books by Linda Poitevin

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Grace Daniels turned at the sound of a key in the front door lock, one hand clinging to the stair rail, the other clutching the laundry basket against her side. Her heart wedged itself into the back of her throat. Was this it? Was it finally over? The edge of the laundry basket dug into her hip. Eight months of waiting...

  The door swung open and Sean stepped into the foyer, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, a cane in one hand. Snug jeans hugged his hips and a white golf shirt accented the deep tan on his arms. Bottle-green eyes lifted to meet hers, halfway up the stairs. He wasted neither time nor words.

  “Life,” he said. “No parole.”

  Grace sat down with a muffled thump on the carpeted stairs. The laundry basket slipped from numb fingers, and she watched it tumble end over end onto the floor below, spilling freshly folded towels along the way. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered outside of Sean’s words. Nothing outside of the sentence handed down today to the man who had murdered her sister—his own wife—and then tried to kidnap his own children. To take them and—

  Grace’s brain shied sideways, refusing even now to go there. Refusing to think of what might have happened if she hadn’t been able to stop Barry Walsh on that November day. Because that didn’t matter anymore, either. Because the kids were safe now. Because they were all—

  “You okay?” Sean’s gruff voice asked, startling her with its nearness. He’d taken off his shoes and come to stand amid the spilled towels at the foot of the stairs.

  Grace blinked, bringing him into focus. “I—” she broke off and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  Sean stretched out a hand and gave her knee a squeeze. “It’s been a long road,” he said. “It’ll take a bit of time to process.”

  She nodded. “I suppose. I just hadn’t expected to feel...” Sean waited while she searched for the right word. “Sad,” she finished slowly. “I feel sad. This makes it all so real. I mean, it was real before, but...”

  “But everything is more real now,” he supplied. “More final. Julianne, the kids...”

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat and blinked back a sheen of tears. “Yes.”

  “Ah, Grace.” Sean set aside his cane, ascended to join her, and rested his good knee on the step just below her. He reached out to gather her into his arms, then kissed the top of her head and murmured into her hair, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry.”

  Eyes closed, she rested her forehead against the strong, familiar chest as she had so often in these past months, letting his warmth and strength envelope her, infuse her. He had kept her both anchored and afloat since that awful day. Kept them all anchored and afloat. She didn’t know what they would have done without him. Didn’t know how they would have survived. She still couldn’t believe he’d stayed through it all. Stayed to love her, to love them all. And she wondered if he would remain when—

  “Aunt Grace?” a voice came from above and behind her. She pulled back from Sean and turned to Josh, hovering at the top of the stairs, his eyes round behind his glasses and every line of his body rigid with anxiety. “Is everything all right? They didn’t let Da—him out, did they?”

  Grace shook her head wordlessly, a thousand emotions clogging her throat against the words of reassurance she wanted to speak. Sean gave her shoulders a squeeze.

  “I’ll take this,” he said. He looked up the stairs. “Come on, Josh. Let’s sit out in the back yard where we’ll have a bit of privacy.”

  Grace wanted to object, to say that she should be the one to deliver the news to Josh that he’d never have to see his dad again. But even if she could have crowbarred the words past the lump, she didn’t trust herself not to dissolve into a weeping puddle of relief that would end with Josh looking after her instead of the other way around. She nodded grateful acceptance to Sean and scooted aside for Josh, reaching out to catch hold of his hand as he passed.

  “It’s good,” she managed to whisper huskily. “It’s all good.”

  Relief clashed with profound sorrow in the boy’s eyes, shining a harsh spotlight on the lie underlying Grace’s words. Because, no, it wasn’t good. There was nothing good about any of this. Josh pulled away and he and Sean headed down the hallway toward the kitchen and the sliding doors to the yard beyond, the boy slowing his pace to match that of the man who still walked with a cane.

  Josh and his siblings had lost both parents now. There had been no miracle for them that brought their mother back to life or made it so that their father hadn’t been her killer. And there was no good for the kids in the sentencing of Barry. No right in what they’d endured—or the lifetime of healing they faced.

  Grace tightened her jaw and squared her shoulders. There was, however, safety in which to do that healing. Safety for all of them. Maybe that was enough for now. Maybe, without the pall of Barry’s trial hovering over the house like the dark, suffocating shadow it had been for the last four months, they could finally move forward.

  A faint call, muffled by a door, drifted down from the second floor. “Maamaaaa! I’m up!”

  Despite the heaviness residing in her chest, Grace mustered a smile as she called back, “Coming, Annabelle!”

  She heaved herself to her feet, gathered the scattered towels, and climbed the stairs toward the smallest of her responsibilities, her mouth tightening as she passed the bathroom and the possibility hidden in one of its drawers.

  The smallest of her responsibilities so far.

  ***

  “How did it go?” Grace pitched her voice low, so that the kids wouldn’t hear from the nearby table where they worked on their homework after dinner. She’d been in the middle of making spaghetti sauce when Josh and Sean had come in from the backyard, and she hadn’t had a chance yet to ask about Sean’s conversation with her nephew.

  Sean looked up from rinsing out the frying pan at the sink. “With Josh, you mean?” He glanced over at the kids, his mouth pulling tight for a second.
“It went, I suppose. He didn’t say much, but then again, what is there for him to say?” He sighed, and his gaze returned to Grace. “You’re sure we can’t get him to talk to a therapist?”

  Grace’s heart tightened in her chest. “If you think you’ll have any more success with the idea, be my guest. He won’t even discuss it with me.”

  Water slopped out of the sink as Sean gave the pan an extra ferocious scrub. “Freaking hell,” he muttered. “What I wouldn’t give for two minutes alone with that son of a bitch. The number he’s done on these kids...”

  Barry’s presence loomed between them as it so often did, and Grace reached out to put a hand on Sean’s tightly corded forearm. “The important thing is that he can’t get at them anymore,” she offered, but her words sounded feeble even to her. She tried again. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s just give him some time.”

  Sean flashed her an appraising look. “Just him, or you, too?”

  Grace’s stomach lurched. She knew where this was heading. She scrubbed with the tea towel at an imaginary streak on the glass she dried. “I don’t—”

  “You do,” Sean interrupted. “And you can’t keep putting this off forever, Grace.”

  Not forever, no. But until she figured out what she was going to do about—

  Sean plucked the tea towel and glass from her and set both aside on the counter. He tipped her chin up until she met the faint exasperation behind his gaze. “You know I want to marry you, and I’m pretty sure you still want to marry me. You said you wanted to wait until after the trial, and I did. But the kids need stability now. We all do. So can we please set a date? Or at least open discussions?”

  Grace pulled back from his hand, dropped her chin, and stared at a button on his shirtfront, guilt and no small terror twisting in her belly. He was right. She did want to marry him, and they should set a date, but...

  Sean sighed. “Let me guess. Not yet?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just...I need...”

  He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his warm breath tickling the top of her head and his unending patience and understanding shafting like a knife through her heart. “No yet,” he agreed. “But soon. Okay?”

  The knife slid deeper. She had no response.

  Chapter 2

  “So? When’s the wedding?”

  Sean pulled back from under the hood of the minivan and regarded the man who had strolled up the driveway to join him. “Nice to see you, too, Gareth. And I’m fine, thanks. How are you?”

  Gareth Connor, Hollywood heartthrob and the cousin who was more like a brother to Sean, waved away his words. “I have no time for small talk. I’m on my way to get the kids from tae kwon do.”

  “And you took a fifteen-kilometer detour?”

  “Gwyn’s idea. She’s dying to know.”

  Sean cocked an eyebrow at his cousin. “And you didn’t think to call instead of driving over?”

  “I did suggest that, yes.” Gareth shoved his hands into his front pockets and grimaced. “For the record, never try to reason with a pregnant woman who’s a week overdue.”

  Sean held back a snort. Like that would ever happen in his life. He made a sympathetic noise instead. “Still no sign of the baby? She must be getting awfully fed up.”

  “She was doing jumping jacks when I left the house. We see the obstetrician again tomorrow.”

  “Good luck with that. And keep us posted.”

  “Of course. Which brings me back to my question. You said you wanted to wait until the trial was over, and Sack of Shit’s sentence was handed down last week. So when’s the wedding?”

  Sean shot a glance toward the townhouse where Grace was watching a movie with the younger kids while he changed the oil in the vehicle. He’d poked his head into Josh’s room with an invitation to join him, but the eleven-year-old had barely looked up from the book on calculus that he’d been devouring at his desk. Sean gave a mental shake of his head. Every preconceived notion he’d had about having kids had been turned on its head since he’d moved in with Grace and her brood. Josh was lightyears ahead of him in everything academic, eight-year-old Lilliane had turned out to be the most athletic of the four, and from what he could tell, three-year-old Annabelle showed the most mechanical aptitude of the bunch. As for six-year-old Sage...well, Sage he was still trying to figure out.

  “Tick tock.” Gareth’s voice intruded on his thoughts. “I’m on a tight schedule, remember?”

  Sean sighed. “And I don’t know what to tell you. I tried raising the question again after dinner the night Walsh was sentenced, but she changed the subject and I...” He trailed off as Gareth stared at him. “What?”

  Gareth stared some more. Sean looked down at the front of his t-shirt, then over both shoulders, then back at his cousin. He held his hands wide, bewildered. “What?” he asked again. “Did I grow a second head or something?”

  His cousin removed one hand from a pocket, pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t propose to the woman over dirty dishes on one of the most traumatic days of her life.”

  The dishes had been clean by then, but Sean was pretty sure that wasn’t what Gareth meant. He bristled slightly. “May I remind you that you proposed in a hallway full of people, with Nicholas wedged in between you and Gwyn?”

  “Extenuating circumstances, and you know it.” Gareth opened his eyes and dropped his hand to his side again. “For the love of God, Sean, the woman has been through hell and back, lost her sister, taken on four children—and you—and basically given up her entire life. I think she deserves a decent proposal, don’t you?”

  Well, when he put it that way...

  “Shit,” said Sean. “I’m a total ass, aren’t I?”

  “Yes. But a redeemable one. I hope.”

  Sean rubbed a grease-stained hand over his head. “Fine. You’re the expert on romance, Mr. Hollywood. What do you suggest I do?”

  “Do you have a ring?”

  “Of course I have a ring.”

  “Then dinner out. Somewhere fancy. Tonight.”

  “Tonight! Isn’t that a bit sudden?”

  “Cold feet?”

  “Of course not, but—”

  “But nothing. You know the kids won’t stay with anyone but me and Gwyn—”

  True.

  “—and if she goes into labor and has the baby,” Gareth continued, “it could be weeks before we can manage four extras.”

  Also true. Sean rubbed his head again. “But don’t I need to prepare a speech or something? And it’s Friday—I’ll never get a reservation at a decent place this late.”

  “You don’t need a speech,” Gareth said. “You need to tell her you love her and ask her to marry you. And let me worry about the reservation. Being famous has a few perks, remember? And now I need to get out of here before I get waylaid.”

  He jerked his chin in a direction beyond Sean’s shoulder, and Sean glanced back to see a woman hustling down the street toward them, her platinum bob bouncing in time with her determined stride. Sean’s mouth tightened. Adele Montgomery had to be the most annoying neighbor on the face of the planet, and not just where her complaints about the kids were concerned. The divorcee either had built-in radar where Gareth was concerned, or she was spending way too much time watching Sean and Grace’s house in hopes the actor would turn up...and Sean strongly suspected the latter. He needed to get back into uniform soon, if only so he could stop by home with his police car on occasion. Maybe that would deter her intrusions. Or at least make them less frequent.

  Sean turned back to speak to Gareth, but his cousin was already halfway to the car he’d parked curbside.

  “I’ll make a reservation for six-thirty,” he called as he opened the driver’s door. “We’ll expect the kids at six. They can have dinner with us. That gives you” —he glanced at his watch— “just over an hour and a half, so you’d better get moving.”

  And then he was gone, leaving Se
an to wipe sweaty palms against his pant legs and contemplate the breathtaking formality of the evening before him as he walked toward the house. Toward Grace. Toward his family. Holy hell, this was it. After a lifetime of denial and months of trying to convince Grace, he was going to get married.

  Two doors down on the sidewalk, a sour-faced Adele Montgomery’s steps faltered. Her accusing gaze met Sean’s across the limited expanse of handkerchief-sized lawns. Sean gave her a cheerful smile, lifted a hand in a wave, and opened the door.

  He was going to get married.

  Chapter 3

  Grace leaned both hands on the bathroom counter and stared at the little stick resting beside the sink. Slowly, she shook her head at it. No.

  No, no, no, no, no.

  A brick settled in her stomach, right beside where—her brain shied from finishing the thought. This could not be happening. There had to be a mistake. She picked up the stick and shook it. These things made mistakes, right? They couldn’t always be accurate...

  The result stayed the same: positive. Her gaze traveled over the six other sticks lined up on the counter. All, in varying formats and used over the past six days, gave the identical answer: positive. Her shoulders sagged. Seven out of seven. An entire weeks’ worth of unvarying results. Even in her utter desperation edged with hysteria, she couldn’t see much room for error in those odds. She raised her gaze to that of her reflection and stared at the shock mirrored there.

  Five kids. Five. She could barely keep her head above water with the four she’d already taken in. How in hell was she going to manage five?

  And how in hell was she going to tell Sean?

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage at the idea. Sean. Sean, who’d never wanted a family in the first place, who’d already taken on her sister’s four, who’d made it clear—crystal clear—that he had no interest in more. A declaration Grace had been fine with, because frankly, she’d had no interest, either. And now...now, there were seven positives laid out before her, and—