This is love, p.1
This is Love, page 1
This Is Love
Natasha Madison
This Is Love
Vivienne & Mark
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Copyright © 2019 Natasha Madison. E-Book and Print Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons or living or dead, events or locals are entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ Use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
All rights reserved
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Cover Design: Jay Aheer https://www.simplydefinedart.com/
Editing done by Jenny Sims Editing4Indies
Proofing Julie Deaton by Deaton Author Services https://www.facebook.com/jdproofs/
Created with Vellum
To finding love and never letting it go, no matter how scary or how much it might hurt!
Contents
Prologue
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 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Epilogue One
Epilogue Two
Tempt The Hookup
Books By Natasha Madison
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Vivienne
Ten Years Earlier
“Happy Birthday,” Karrie says, holding up a glass of champagne with a smile. I raise my glass of champagne with my own megawatt smile and clink it against hers. “Twenty-one and legal.” I nod and bring the glass to my lips. Karrie has been my best friend since I transferred to America from France when I was a senior in high school. We clicked as soon as I bumped into her on the first day.
“Merci.” Thank you, I say in French. Even though I’ve been in New York for five years, I still slip into my mother tongue. I take a sip and then close my eyes as the sweet bubbly hits my tongue. “God, this is so much better when it’s legal.” I laugh.
“So, what are you doing tonight that you couldn’t go out with me?” Karrie asks with a smirk as she takes her own sip.
I shrug my shoulders and try not to smile as though I’m hiding something. “Nothing.”
“Nothing, my ass,” Karrie says, putting down her glass and leaning over to me. “Is it your mystery guy?” she whispers.
“He’s not a mystery guy,” I say, taking another sip to hide my eyes.
“You have been with him for over two year, yet I have never met him,” Karrie points out.
“He’s busy with work,” I tell her, swallowing down the champagne that a minute ago was sweet and is now a touch bitter and sour. “Besides, I need to make a dent in my American Express this month, and no one does it better than you.”
“Changing the subject now, are we?” She smirks and then holds her hand up to get the bill. “I do need to get myself a graduation present,” she says, pushing herself from the table to sign her name on the bill. “Let’s go shopping.”
We spend the next six hours doing all of Fifth Avenue, and when I kiss her goodbye, she gives me the biggest hug with promises to call her tomorrow. As I make my way back down to my apartment, I spot something out of the corner of my eye and turn, not sure if I actually saw it. But I did, and my heart sinks.
I stand here for a minute taking in the scene before turning and walking back to my apartment. The doorman, Harold, spots me and smiles. “Ms. Vivienne,” he says, his eyes lighting up. “I heard happy birthday is in order. Or as the French say, Joyeux anniversaire.”
I smile at him. “Merci or, as the English say it, thank you.” He grabs the bags in my hands. “I am expecting more,” I tell him as he walks me inside the marble entrance toward the waiting elevator.
“I will have all these brought up with the rest,” he tells me, and I nod at him, knowing he’ll be up in about twenty minutes.
He pushes the button for the sixteenth floor, and I watch the numbers go up one by one. My head is going around and around with everything I just saw. When the elevator opens on my floor, I walk out into the hallway and come face-to-face with my red door. Once I get into the apartment, I walk down what I call the gallery hallway. It is why I bought this apartment; the way the molding was all down the wall reminded me of France. I pass the kitchen on my right and the hallway to the bedrooms on my left as I walk into the huge living and dining room with a wall of windows that faces Central Park. Bouquets of roses scattered throughout the room are all from the same person, except one from my grandmother in Paris and another from my parents.
The phone beeps in my pocket, and I reach in and grab it.
I’m running a bit behind, but I’ll be there by seven.
I swallow, letting my purse fall to the floor beside me while I walk to one of the couches and sit down. I don’t get up when I hear a knock on the door, knowing the doorman will leave the bags in the hallway. I stare ahead as the light in the room ever so slowly fades until the glow of the moon is all that remains. My eyes focus on the stars outside, looking at one that seems to be blinking. Or maybe it isn’t, and it’s just me.
I hear the key in the door and grab my phone to see the time is 9:35. I put the phone down and hear his steps coming down the gallery. He turns on the light and spots me sitting here. I look at him, this man who I love with everything I have and would do anything for. He’s wearing the same suit I saw him wearing this afternoon except he doesn’t have a tie on.
“Hey there,” he says, smiling and coming over to me. “There she is, the birthday girl.” He squats down in front of me and leans up to kiss my lips, and I let him. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
I take in his brown eyes that look almost black, eyes I’ve stared into for over two years now. Eyes that promised me the world. “I was thinking,” I say softly, and he grabs one of my hands and brings it to his mouth.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he says, and I take a mental picture of him, not that I need to. “Stuff came up.”
“You mean your wife,” I tell him, and it suddenly hits me. I mean, it hit me four months into the relationship when I found out he had a wife. But he promised me he was leaving her. She was his high school love, and it would take time, but he loved me. And only me. It. Was. All. A. Lie.
He continued to woo me with exotic vacations when he knew I was fed up, but I can’t blame him. I have to take the blame myself.
“Mon amour.” My love. He uses my nickname, and I shake my head. “You know I’m working on it.”
“Really?” I ask him. “From the looks of it, she’s about eight months pregnant, so you must really be working on something,” I tell him. The color drains from his face, and I laugh bitterly. “I mean, the writing was on the wall really.”
“I can explain,” he says. I push him away from me and stand. Going to the window, I look out, refusing to show him how much he just hurt me. I won’t give him that. I blink it away and push it down, then turn to look at him. He stands there with his hands in his pockets, wearing his gold Rolex—a birthday present from me—on his wrist. I wonder how he explained that to her, or maybe he didn’t have to.
“What can you explain?” I ask him but then just continue talking. “How, for the past eighteen months, you strung me along by saying you were leaving her?” My voice rises a bit. “How, for the past fucking eight months, she was pregnant with your child, and you didn’t bother to mention it? Nothing!” I shout the last part. “I waited for you and believed you.”
“I love you, Vivienne, with every—” He starts to talk, but I stop him.
“Would you just cut the bullshit?” I finally snap angrily. “For once, why don’t you just admit it? Just admit I was your mistress.”
“You know you’re more than that,” he says. “You have to know.”
“I’ve been sitting here for the past four hours thinking about what excuse you must be giving her. Wondering if she suspects that you’re a liar and a cheater, or are you just that good?” I put my hands up. “I mean, I believed you every single time you walked away saying it was almost over.”
“She got pregnant by accident,” he says, and I suddenly see how fucking stupid he sounds.
“By accident, you mean your dick fell into her vagina or what …?” I shake my head.
“You know that isn’t what I mean,” he says. “I was going to leave her, you know that, and then
“So you lied to protect me?” I rub my face. “Then how long would it be before you told me?”
“I was going to tell you.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, for sure. Happy Birthday and oh, by the way, I’m a father.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Get out.”
“You don’t mean that,” he says, trying to come to me, and I walk away from him to the other side of the room. “We can talk about this.”
“The only thing I want you to tell me is where to send all your shit,” I tell him. “Holy shit, we were partially living with each other. What could you have possibly told her that she believed?” He opens his mouth to answer. “You know what? I don’t care. It isn’t my problem anymore.”
“Why don’t we talk tomorrow?” he says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” He turns to walk away.
“You can try, but you won’t get through.” He stops and then turns back to look at me. “After tonight, you will no longer be welcome here. You will never see me again, not even in passing.”
“Baby,” he says softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I need you.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You need to go back to your wife and your child.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I tell him. “Get out.” I walk toward my bedroom, slamming the door behind me and locking it. I fall back onto the door and slowly slide down, listening to him walk to the front door. Only when the door closes and I count to one hundred do I allow the first tear to fall, but then it is like a dam opening and the sobs rip through me. I don’t know how long I sit here, but my whole body feels like it got run over by a truck. The only thing I know is I will never, ever let myself fall in love again.
Chapter One
Vivienne
Present Day
Walking into the restaurant, I spot Karrie sitting in the corner with her head down as she types something on her phone. “Bonjour,” I say, leaning over and kissing her cheeks when she looks up. Her hair’s tied up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a white shirt with a black blazer. I look down at my sleeveless white silk button-down tucked into an olive-colored pleated long dress that falls to my mid-thigh. I accessorized with gold bracelets on my wrists, and my open-toe nude Louboutins match the camel Hermes purse I’m carrying.
Karrie is the closest person to me in the world, and I tell her everything. When we met in high school, we bonded over guys and trust funds, and from the first day, we were attached at the hip. Karrie’s father owns the biggest communications company in the world along with a bunch of other things, including the hockey team New York Stingers.
“I just got here. The kids were all over the place,” she says, mentioning her four children. After she graduated at the top of her class in public relations, her father hired her to be someone’s chaperone. Well, little did she know he would turn out to be the love of her life. I mean, it was love at first sight for him, and he hasn’t let her go, not even for a second. With just the way he looks at her, it’s clear he loves her with everything he has. It’s a look I have never been on the receiving end of, but I’ve made my peace with that.
“How are my favorite kids?” I ask her as I lay the white linen napkin across my lap. My family resides in Paris, and although I visit a couple of times a year, I consider America my home. It’s where my life is, and it’s where my home is now.
“They are fit to be tied.” Karrie starts talking. “It’s almost back to school, and I can’t freaking wait.” She stops talking when the waiter comes over and tells us the special. We nod at him, and he walks away. “The back-to-school shopping is done, courtesy of Auntie Zara’s Closet.” She mentions one of Matthew’s younger twin sisters who is a professional shopper and now owns one of the most sought-after closets. If something is going on and you need a one-of-a-kind dress, she’ll find it for you. “The only thing I have left to do is get them dressed and drive them to school.”
“You really are the best mom ever,” I say, grabbing the glass of water and taking a sip. “I honestly don’t know how you do it.”
“If you dated the same man for more than two dates, this could be you,” she tells me, smirking as I grimace.
“You aren’t helping your case,” I tell her. “When was the last time you slept for longer than four hours?” She doesn’t say anything. “That, right there, is why. I sleep eight straight hours.”
“I hate you,” Karrie hisses. I laugh, and we talk about everything and nothing. We talk every single day, sometimes more than once, and we still find things to discuss.
“We are having a pool party at my house next weekend,” Karrie says. “Matthew is throwing an end-of-summer, welcome-back-to-work barbecue,” she says, and I sit up and wink at her.
“Does this mean fresh meat will be there?” I ask her, and she just shakes her head. “I’m single and ready to mingle.”
“We know.” She laughs, and for the first time in a long time, I think back to that fateful day I have locked away tight. The minute I close my eyes, I see it all over again, and just like that, I close the box back.
“Anyway, what do I have to work with?” I ask her, and she just shrugs.
“Regular people, I guess,” she says, and I don’t say anything. “Oh,” she says between chews. “There is a new dad. Well, single dad.”
“Abort mission,” I say, pointing at her with my fork. “I am all about having sex with a daddy, but I am not going to be a stepmother.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Only you would think about having sex with the father before even asking why he’s divorced.”
“It’s like you don’t even know me.” I roll my eyes, and she laughs. “Anyway, is Zoe going?” I ask about Matthew’s other twin sister. She’s the last single one left of the girls. His other sister Allison eloped with his enemy, but now they are two peas in a pod.
“She is coming. I think she is going to come down on Saturday,” Karrie says, and I take out my phone and text Zoe right away.
Me: Me, You, Train, Wine.
It doesn’t take her long to reply.
Zoe: Me, You, Car Service, Wine……
I smile and answer her back.
Me: So much better than train. It’s a date.
“Okay, I’m riding with Zoe,” I tell her. “In other news, I really, really need to have sex.”
She looks up at me. “Like now?”
I shake my head. “Not like now,” I say and then look around, seeing no one who really piques my interest. “I mean soon. Like tonight or tomorrow.”
“So, go out and get it,” Karrie says, drinking a sip of water. “What is with you lately?”
I look at her and lean back in my chair. “I have no idea. I think it’s the changing of the seasons. I spent the weekend in the Hamptons this year.”
“You do that every year,” she points out.
“I know, but this year, I didn’t even suck one dick.” I lift my hands. “Not one blow job. Not even a hand job.” I shake my head. “Every year, you know I go there, and it’s usually a buffet of men.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Yes, I’m aware. Remember when you made a spin card game, and it would tell you what color hair the guy you had to have sex with that night had?”
I smile, thinking back. “Those were some good times. Now all I do is sit on the couch and read.”
“There is nothing wrong with relaxing,” Karrie says.
“I complained my neighbors were loud.” I lean in and hiss whisper, “Me.”
