Chapter 1
EVERLY
Dear Diary,
I could go for some celebratory cookie dough right now because I am in the clear, baby! Cancer-free! Even writing this, I’m bouncing in my seat, doing a little happy dance while I wait for the bus.
If anyone else were here, I’d jump to my feet and hug them—yes, even the questionable fellow in the leather jacket and stringy hair who frequents this stop.
One rainy afternoon, he told me that his name is Blade.
Yes, I’d even hug a stranger because this kind of excitement, happiness, and relief needs to be spread like confetti!
All the exclamation points!!!
Ooh! I know, the bus driver will get a hug. She’s a stern-faced woman who hauls around that giant blue Pez dispenser on twelve wheels and looks supremely inconvenienced when I ask how she’s doing, but today she gets a hug from yours truly.
Gosh, I’m just so giddy.
It’s been a long six months, but I made it to the finish line and I want to celebrate. It’s hard to contain this level of I don’t even know what to call it. I’m alive! Alive, I tell ya!
Oh, here comes Gladys leading her natural gas-fueled chariot. I only know that because the sign on the side says, Now, fueled with natural gas. I don’t know much about what that means, but it doesn’t matter because the driver is about to be fueled by an Everly Edith Adams hug.
Wheeee!
Okay, I’m back and the hug didn’t go exactly how I intended.
For one thing, I never noticed the metal partition bar installed to either make sure the driver doesn’t fall out the door or that people like me don’t try to touch said driver.
Also, I didn’t calculate how high Gladys’s seat is and when I lunged in for a hug, it was more like I was wrapping myself around her waist.
Two points for Princess Awkward. But Gladys was like a queen up there on her throne and looked down at me and said, “You okay, hon?”
There’s a first time for everything. Usually when I ask her how she is, her response is along the lines of a very unconvincing, Another day in paradise.
I told her that I’ve never been better. Literally. I also fist-pumped the air a few times. If I had pompoms, I’d have shaken them.
Because this route typically doesn’t have many passengers, which meant no one was waiting to board, I was about to say, I’m officially cancer free, but the words got stuck.
It was kind of weird. Then again, the only person on the planet who knows about the diagnosis is Heidi and my support group.
But it’s easy to talk to them because either they get me or they get it.
Well, the Wise Warrior Women collectively think I’m a bit wacky, but Heidi is my bestie for life, so she rolls with my sunshine-in-space personality.
Watch out, Heidi, I’ve got a hug waiting for you and it’s coming in hot!
Speaking of temperature extremes, no, I still haven’t told my father. Haven’t talked to him since...you know.
Since the wedding ceremony that wasn’t. The wedding day ditch. The arranged marriage mishap.
Two more points to number twenty-nine with the brown, bob-length hair dodging that bullet. No, I’m not on any sort of team, but I am twenty-nine, so I figured that would be my jersey number—though, I’m not sure how those numerical designations work for sports teams.
Yes, not even thirty and a cancer diagnosis. It was minimal—early and itty bitty—but I carry the same gene my mother did. For her, it was too late. For me, I took the necessary precautions, had major surgery, and now no cancer. So here we are.
And I’m thankful. So deeply thankful.
But am I still processing leaving my fiancé at the altar? Probably. Do I regret it? Nope. Especially not when the woman I heard him refer to as his “sidepiece” crashed my wedding.
From my hiding place in the closet, I watched her stride down the aisle, profess her love for my fiancé, and that he was making a mistake.
Yeah, that kind of affirmed saying, I don’t was the right move. Thankfully, they didn’t get hitched right there, but their kiss at the altar suggested she wasn’t a stranger and they’d done it before.
Turns out, with frequency.
However, I still haven’t quite figured out the weirdness of the bedraggled man who looked like he just survived a shipwreck chasing after Sidepiece.
He wore an open button-down Hawaiian-style shirt and flip-flops.
It was November. But the hubbub that broke out among the guests provided a distraction for me to make my escape.
Thankfully, my father still hasn’t caught up with me about how I “borrowed” his car. In tears, I drove that thing like I was making a getaway from a bank robbery and didn’t see the new fence the McNallys put on the corner of their property.
Oops.
Don’t worry. I sent them a money order to cover the damages—the start of my quick spiral into bankruptcy.
The little fender bender also left me to walk the rest of the way home.
If you saw a woman in a ruffly white wedding dress shuffling down Glen Carlin Road like she’d had a bad night, that was me.
Only, it was a bad series of weeks, considering the health scare and finding out Todd was a toad.
However, this also means my father still hasn’t reached out to see why his daughter, moi, didn’t show up at the end of the aisle on her wedding day. You’d think something like that would pique the interest of the Ice King.
I’d say I stood Todd up at the altar, but when my suspicions were confirmed about the sidepiece, I couldn’t go through with the marriage that was little more than a way for my former fiancé to climb the corporate ladder and for my father to continue to fortify his empire.
Yeah, it was quite a scene.
Am I bitter? Resentful? Hurt?
I’m healing and praying.
Could I use a hug? Probably.
Then again, I am now married to a veritable Viking. So the story has a happy ending. Sort of.
Well, after we said I do, the kiss was the icing on the cake, even though we didn’t have one. It was the chocolate chips in the dough. The cherry on top of the sundae. The whipped cream on my waffles.
Okay, now I’m hungry.
And having a craving.
...and thinking about the kiss.
No, I’m not craving the kiss. Maybe a little bit. Slightly. Sometimes.
I know, I know, I promised myself not to recount it in my mind because I am happily single!
Well, married, but it was a marriage of convenience, er, necessity.
Otherwise, I might not be celebrating today.
It’s complicated and not something I’m proud of, but I was desperate and I’m not being hyperbolic when I say it was a life-or-death situation.
However, it is accurate to say that my life has been one long string of questionable decisions. But I don’t regret that one and not because of the kiss that lives rent-free in my mind.
Hmm. I wonder if the Viking gives good hugs? All I know is he gives great kisses.
After the officiant at the courthouse said (and I’ll never forget the words because of what happened next), By the power vested in me by the State of Michigan, you are now pronounced husband and wife. You may kiss.
We did as instructed and savory squeaky cheese curds was it a kiss!
As you know, it wasn’t planned. The Viking and I met that day. The kiss was off-script.
So was the way his gaze jumped to mine in question.
Was he thinking, Let’s get this over with or We need to make this look real, so we don’t end up back in this courthouse defending ourselves against a crime?
Does getting married for insurance break the law? (I still can’t bring myself to look it up and yes, that’s what I was thinking.)
However, my head slowly emptied when those crystalline grey eyes landed on me. Then, when his mouth met mine, I stopped thinking altogether. My mind went blank. His gaze made my heart swell. The Viking crushed his lips to mine.
There was nothing gentle or tame about the kiss...and I liked it. So, I gave back. Gave my all to that kiss. Probably caused the poor officiant a case of heartburn because that kiss was on fire!
But it couldn’t be helped. There was something primal between the Viking and me. It’s like those words, You are now pronounced husband and wife. You may kiss, which caused our cave people instincts to take over.
It wasn’t a chaste little peck either. His hand twined into my hair while I’ll admit I did some groping. The Viking was well built, with lean muscles—an athlete or Iron Man contestant, maybe. I didn’t ask questions other than for his insurance policy number.
But the kiss left me breathless. It still does.
However, let it be known that I am happily unattached and intend to remain that way for a long, long time.
I’m about to embark on a new chapter: Single-verly.
I can finally take the job that I was offered before this mess.
I’ll go be a girl boss and start a new life far away from everything.
Including the Viking. Not that I ever expect to see him again.
That was part of the arrangement. But I’ll never forget his lips on mine.
Yeah, it was a real kissituation.
One I still haven’t resolved, because I think about it nearly every day. Twice a day. Okay, multiple times. I can’t lie to you, Diary, any better than I can lie to myself.
If things were different, I could almost imagine a future with the Viking. Then again, he didn’t smile and we all know that I’m the smilingest of smilers that ever smiled.
Love,
Everly
P.S. Almost forgot! My thankful three:
1. I don’t have cancer.
2. I’m healthy!
3. Relieved that I made the right decision.
I could’ve married Todd and used his insurance, but then I would’ve been stuck with a lying cheat.
Instead, I took a risk, got my life back, and am ready to move on.
I am so deeply grateful, even if it meant marrying the Viking. Then again, it was worth the kiss.