Release Date: January 12, 2015
A dare.A dying wish.
Fate…
After years of loneliness, widowed Gabriella is ready to fill the void—as long as she doesn’t have to give her heart to another man.
Caleb’s screwed himself right into a dead-end existence. Faced with an ultimatum, he’s hell-bound on changing his reckless ways.
A chance meeting has these two instantly attracted to one another, but when their paths cross again—this time as professor and student—the roles reverse on Professor Edwards as Caleb teaches her how to feel again.
Prologue
Ten Years Earlier
“Sweetheart . . . me. Can . . . hear . . . me?” Tommy’s voice crackles through the phone. The static is so overwhelming, it’s hard to make anything out.
“Baby, I saw the—what’s going on? Please tell me you’re okay.” I wish I could be strong for him, he must be terrified, but my cries are coated so heavily in desperation, I’m sure he hears it, despite the terrible connection.
“Baby, don’t . . . scared, but—Gabby, I’m stuck . . . office. The smoke is so . . . no way out, baby.”
My eyes dart to the horror unfolding on the television as if I can somehow find a way to help my husband.
Smoke. Flames. Is it the end of the world?
This cannot be happening! This has to be a nightmare. “No! Don’t say that! There has to be a way out. Please, baby, try!” I don’t know how the words even escape my mouth, my throat so clogged with fear and unrelenting cries.
“I’m trying, sweetheart . . . promise . . . trying . . . tell the girls—”
The phone goes dead.
My heart stops.
I drop to my knees, screaming, “No, no, no! He has to get out! Please, God, please watch over him.” I think it again: This can’t be happening.
But it is.
I squint through the tears, my eyes glued to the television. I can hardly bear to watch it unfold. My city, my world, my life crumbles before my eyes and I can’t seem to drag my attention from the horrifying images on the screen.
I slide off the couch, stooping to my knees, and pray; frantic, hysterical, panicked prayers.
Please let him be okay. Tommy, please be safe.
After seconds, minutes, hours —I can’t even gauge time—of futile begging, my sister swings the front door open. “Gabby! Gabby! I’m here. I got here as fast as I could.” My sister’s voice barely registers. My head is too clouded by everything else. I don’t even know how to make sense of it.
It can’t be possible. This can’t be happening.
Not again.
Gina sits next to me on the floor. Guiding her always-soothing hand up and down my back, she says, “I picked up the kids from school. They’re across the hall with Rita. Have you heard from Tommy yet?”
I can’t even answer her. I know that was the last time I’ll ever hear my husband’s voice. I hang on to a sliver of hope and watch the news coverage in disbelief, waiting for an announcer to declare this whole thing a sick practical joke.
But that never happens.
Because this is real.
This nightmare is reality—the planes, the buildings, the people jumping from those massive burning towers out of desperation.
And then, as if it’s all not enough, the unthinkable happens.
I clutch my chest and almost feel my heart disintegrate, my world collapsing along with the building Tommy is in. The scream that escapes my mouth rocks my body, burns my throat, and draws up bile so poisonous I taste the bitterness on my tongue. “Nooooooo!”
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Gina cries, shaking her head, reaching for me. She covers my eyes by burying my face into her neck, protecting me from the image of the collapsing tower. That strong, steel tower and its twin are the epitome of New York City; where my husband sat at his desk every single day, where he made a living for our family, where he met friends who spent Sundays watching football in our apartment and whose kids came to our kids’ birthday parties. All of that—all of them—are now gone.
Tommy is gone.
Wrapping my arms around myself—wishing they were Tommy’s—I release shattering sobs of painful tears. “He’s gooooone! Gina, he’s gone! Oh my god, my sweet, sweet Tommy.” I cry for my loss; I cry for my children’s loss, I cry for the loss of all the other families who have become victim to this tragedy.
My body tremors and I feel queasy. I’ve been through this already—my world crumbled around me once before—I can’t do this again. I don’t have the strength. “He’s gone,” I whisper this time, knowing there is no consolation.
My fuzzy mind darts to my children—my ten year old girls who are so naïve and innocent. How will I tell them? They’re too young for this. Tommy is their hero. They’re Daddy’s little girls. How do I ruin their picture-perfect outlook on their wonderful world? How will I explain that the safety net of their parents’ love has found a way to fail them? I know this feeling. I hate this feeling. I don’t want to do this to my kids.
My sadness turns to fury in a flash. We don’t deserve this; Tommy was only minding his business, going on with his daily routine. And now he’s . . . gone. “How is this happening? Why, Gina? Whyyyyy?” I wail through unremitting tears, collapsing into my sister’s arms. “He’s my everything! I can’t do this without him, Gina. I love him so much. This—this can’t be happening to me!” Saying it over and over again will make it all go away, right? It just has to!
Gina cloaks her arms around my body, holding me close. Her own tears soak my T-shirt, her sobs echoing in my ears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, sissy.”
It’s like a sudden flash of deja vu, remembering Gina’s efforts to comfort me all those years ago. But today my healing wound is ripped open all over again. How the hell will I ever heal from this?
“My Tommy. My poor Tommy. How could this be happening?” I repeat this too many times—screaming at points, sobbing at others—until my voice eventually turns hoarse.
I’m not the only one who’s lost someone today, but in this moment my heart can only bear my own pain. I can’t think about anyone else when the one person who meant the world to me is no longer a part of it.
Pushing my matted, tear-soaked hair off my face and out of my mouth, something snaps within me—a burning need. I straighten to look Gina in the eyes. “I need my kids. I need to see the girls.”
My sister’s eyes are empty, devoid of all the hope she had before, finally admitting defeat. “What are you going to tell them?” she asks, sniffling back tears.
I haven’t even thought about it. All I know is I need to hold them, to feel them. It’s the only thing I’m sure of in this moment. Maybe their two beautiful, nearly-identical faces can help me find the strength to make sense of this. “I don’t know, but I want them here. Now. I can’t be away from them one more second.”
Gina doesn’t hesitate or wait for an explanation. She stands, walks out the door to my apartment, and disappears into the hallway.
I shake my head back and forth, pulling clumps of my hair just to hold on to something. Tears threaten to strangle me, an explosion looms in my ribcage from the pounding of my heart, and the pain—the immeasurable pain—floods my veins, crippling me. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening.
I wish I had the strength to compose myself. The girls shouldn’t see me this way. I don’t want to scare them, but I have no idea how to soften this blow. I don’t know how to be the mother I’m supposed to be right now. I don’t know how to protect them from this hurt. They’re not babies anymore. I can’t lie. They’re old enough to understand and they’ll hear the truth eventually, when this city goes back to being normal—if it ever goes back to being normal.
When they appear in the doorway five minutes later, their hair still in the braids I’d twirled their blond locks into earlier this morning, clothed in the school uniforms their father laid out for them last night, tears streaking their flawless faces—I lose it. I lose all control, any ounce of grace, sanity, and strength I ever had.
“Mommy!” Stella rushes over to me and her skinny arms wrap around my waist. “What happened, Mommy? We heard about the planes.”
Nina walks closer to our huddle, her aunt clasping her hand as they stride toward us with their heads hung low. “All the kids are saying the World Trade Center was bombed. Is it true, Mommy?”
“And what about . . . Daddy? That’s where Daddy’s office is. Is Daddy . . . is he okay? Is he coming home early?” Stella looks up at me, her brown eyes glistening with tears. My bright little girl—in this moment I wish she wasn’t so smart.
Is he coming home? How do I break her heart by telling the truth? Daddy’s never coming home, sweetheart. I can’t do it.
I can’t do this to my perfect family. The perfect family that is no longer complete because the heart and soul of it was taken away from us this morning.
As shivers rake over my skin and the blood pumps loudly in my ears, my legs shake and I ready myself for the collapse. But I don’t falter. I stand tall, look over my shoulder at the television behind me, and glare at the mayhem unfolding on the screen.
Our life will never be the same. There is no turning back, but I can’t be the one to break this news to my children. I can’t speak the words they should hear from my mouth.
Holding them close, one arm wrapped around each of their delicate, pre-teen frames, I usher them to the couch so the NY1 news reporter can explain to them everything that I cannot. Yes, I’m a coward. Yes, I’m supposed to be strong for them. But with my strength—my Tommy—missing from my life, I don’t know how I’ll ever go on.
Nine months later
“Are you really going to do this, Gabby? Are you sure you can handle it alone?”
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have the girls. I have to go. I can’t be here anymore.”
“But . . . I’m gonna miss you, sissy.” Her lips form an over exaggerated frown.
“You can still come, you know?” I nudge her.
Huffing with her arms thrown in the air, she grumbles, “We’ve been over this, Gabby. You know I can’t. The practice is my baby. I don’t want to start all over.”
Bingo! “But I do. And that’s why I have to go.”
Pacing the living room, Gina goes through the same speech she’s recited since I first told her about my plans. “But you don’t start the job at Berkley for another three months. Stay for the summer. The four of us can be together. I’ll take some time off. We’ll take a trip.” It’s a desperate lie. She’s too busy to take time off and there’s no sense delaying the inevitable.
“Gina, I can’t. I can’t be here anymore. I’m sorry, but it’s—it’s too damn much. I relive that morning over and over every single day. I never thought I’d say this, but I hate New York, Gi. I hate the new skyline. I hate the flags hanging out of people’s car windows and swaying in the breeze on their front porches, reminding me of all we’ve lost. I hate that the kids are pitied by their classmates and their teachers. I hate that I can’t bask in all the memories I made in this apartment with the love of my life because remembering—it makes me nauseous, Gina. Being here is killing me. I need to start over. For me, for the girls. This is the only way.”
I can tell by the look of defeat on her face that she knows it as well as I do. And so what if I don’t have her blessing? I know for sure I have Tommy’s.
The morning I accepted the position at Berkley, I’d found one of his signs—a loose nickel, staring me in the face from the ground. They’d been popping up since the morning of his memorial service. At first I thought nothing of it, but when Gina told me the pennies from heaven theory—that when an angel misses you, they toss a penny down from heaven—I started to believe. See, Tommy’s birthday is May fifth—5/5 if you’re as slow on the uptake as I was—and that’s the reason for the nickel rather than the penny.
Those signs made me feel as if Tommy was guiding me to make certain decisions that were too difficult to make on my own. That particular nickel on the morning of the job offer assured me that moving on and getting out of here is what comes next. This is the next chapter of my life. The girls will start fresh—it’ll be good for them, even if they hate me for it now. And me? I can’t be any worse off there than I am here. Guess there’s only one way to find out.
“Gina, I’m moving to California. I made a promise to Tommy when I married him that I would always put our family first. This is the only way I know how. I have to heal to be the mother they deserve. I have to get strong again somehow. And, sissy, I just can’t do it here.”
Gina drops her gaze to the floor, combing her dainty fingers through her long, dark hair. “I’m going to miss the shit out of you and I know it’s too soon to talk about a future when you’re still so glued to your past, but one of these days, you will get past this.”
Faith Andrews lives in New York where she is happily married to her high school sweetheart. They have two beautiful daughters and a furry Yorkie son, Rocco. If she isn’t listening to Mumford and Sons or busy being a Dance Mom, her nose is in a book or her laptop. She’s a sucker for a happily ever after and believes her characters are out there living one somewhere . . .
exbuffalo2001 says
I love the Prologue and Faith!!!
Dana says
SO excited to read this one! I love Faith’s work!
judethomas21 says
Love it!
mrsmac19 says
Love the prologue! 🙂
I did tweet w/ my entry, but accidentally pasted something else when it wouldn’t go through. Here’s my tweet… https://twitter.com/MrsMac19/status/553302356138270721
Erika says
It is heartbreaking but I’m left wanting more!
jodi marinich says
sounds great
angelina says
I love the sound of it 🙂
Jennifer O'C says
The prologue was fantastic, makes me want more!
Mary Preston says
Looking forward to seeing where the prologue takes us.
Katarzyna says
I really like it! Can’t wait to read the book! 🙂
Irma Jurejevčič says
Ah!!!! I want more. I love it!
Diana Doan says
Sounds amazing! Can’t wait to read it.
lea says
It sounds amazing!!
Maricris Patrimonio Dimla says
It feels heart-wrenching. (it’s only the prologue, how much more if it’s the whole book?) I so want to read this!
Betul E. says
Prologue is really good, has me wanting MORE!