Fourteen by C.M. Smith (english novels to read .txt) 📗

in my entire life, I felt content with myself, and there was nothing more that I needed.

“Tell me again why we’re here,” I said, staring at the front of Collins Point High School from the car.

“So that we can see how horrible everyone else looks.”

I looked over at him, raising my eyebrow as he grinned at me.

“This place is like hell. No, it’s worse than that. It’s the seventh circle of hell.”

“You’re quite the drama queen tonight.”

“I hate everyone in there.”

“You hate Kyle and Ashley? Christina and Vince?”

I glared at him, and he laughed and grabbed my hand. I looked back at the front of the school and scowled.

Nothing had changed. It was just as I remembered it from ten years ago. As if time had just stopped in this part of the world, and I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to be sick or enjoy the memories of my senior year that rushed back to me.

“This is going to be fine.”

“I feel like I’m seventeen again.”

“But you’re not.”

“Well I feel like it!”

“Anna.” He laughed, leaning over to gently kiss my cheek. “You are a beautiful, successful, smart wife and mother. You’re still that strong, independent woman who graduated with me ten years ago. There is absolutely no reason for you to be worried.”

“These people—”

“Won’t even recognize you.” He grabbed my chin and turned my head, gently kissing me. “Relax, sweetheart.”

I placed my hand against his heart. That had continued to be our thing through our entire relationship. When either of us needed reassurance, feeling the other’s heartbeat always made everything make sense again.

I’d been dreading our high school reunion ever since we’d received the invitations in the mail. I’d even gone so far as to beg Evan to rip it up and forget about the whole thing. But he had to be a sadistic bastard and insist that we go no matter what I said to him.

His acceptance letter arrived a few days after the science fair—it had apparently made a detour and was delivered to a Mr. Ericsson at the retirement community across town— and we spent the rest of the night celebrating with our friends. It was hard to believe that it had already been ten years since then.

We stayed in New York after we graduated, both of us having fallen in love with all the ways that it was different from Collins Point. It had the added advantage of not having a single person from our graduating class follow us there.

We’d worked through most of our schooling and ended up with two jobs a piece after we’d graduated, neither of us using our degrees at the time. It had seemed nearly impossible to find a job in either of our fields, no matter how many places we’d sent our resumes to—or, in Evan’s case, samples. Then Evan had received a call from the New York Times at the end of March, and I’d finally found a practice willing to take me under their wing. As soon as we’d had enough money, the first thing we did was get married.

Our relationship had had its ups and downs—boys at college weren’t as narrow-minded as the ones back in Collins Point, and I’d found that having a jealous boyfriend was equally flattering and annoying as hell.

Not to say that Mr. Gorgeous didn’t have his own fair share of obsessed stalkers following his fine ass around campus, but I’d expected that. He still spent most nights sneaking into my dorm, after all, so there really was no reason to worry—he’d spent an entire day asking me why it didn’t bother me. I said I trusted him; he took it the wrong way and thought I meant that he didn’t trust me. That was our first big fight; we spent a week without seeing or speaking to each other before I found him camped outside my dorm room one night after class with his head in his hands and about ten dozen roses at his feet.

Now, even when we were angry at each other, we at least still slept in the same bed. Makeup sex was a really wonderful thing, too. It also resulted in our first child.

Evan and I had talked about having kids and had decided that when it happened, it happened. I’d stopped taking my birth control pills, and we both did our best not to rush to the drugstore and buy a test every time we made love.

We’d been married for almost two years, living in a beautiful brownstone in the better part of the city, when I finally realized that I didn’t have the flu. The first thing I did was call Evan, and he’d rushed home from work, three different pregnancy tests in his hand. They had all been positive, but we’d made an appointment with the doctor just to be sure.

Macie Corrine Drake was the spitting image of her father, and she had the smart-ass attitude to go with it. Her eyes were green like mine, her hair was brown like her father’s, and we absolutely adored her.

Now we had a beautiful four-year-old baby girl visiting with her Grandpa Bruce while we sat in front of the one place in the world I despised the most.

“I’m not in a position to relax,” I said, gritting my teeth.

“You’re not doing anything good for my son in this condition, you know.”

His hand trailed from my chin and rested on my swollen stomach, as he rubbed it. I sighed and placed my hand over his, linking our fingers and closing my eyes as I concentrated on breathing evenly.

“We don’t have to stay long,” he whispered, resting his chin on my shoulder and kissing my neck. “Go in, see how horrible the rest of our class looks, and then we can be off.”

“We promised everyone dinner tonight.”

“So we did.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.”

“You love me.”

“Your mother paid me to love you.”

“Is that any way to speak to the father of your children?”

“Who