Happily Ever Ninja (Knitting in the City #5)
Penny Reid
~Dedication~
To soul mates.
A Short Foreword
Dear Reader, Three businessy items: 1) Fiona and Greg have a prequel/origin story (Knitting in the City book #4.75) entitled Ninja At First Sight. If you haven’t already read Ninja At First Sight, I highly recommend you do so prior to starting Happily Ever Ninja. You can download it for free (from Amazon, Kobo, iTunes, Barnes & Noble) or read it serialized on Wattpad for free (www.wattpad.com/user/PennyReid).
2) A few months ago, I asked my readers to send me letters or written exchanges between them and their spouse/partner/imaginary future partner. With the exception of the Prologue, at the beginning of each chapter is an excerpt from a real letter (or Post-it? Note, or text message, etc.) between real people.
3) Three years ago, when I decided to continue the Knitting in the City series beyond Janie Morris’s random factoid spewing, this book (Fiona and Greg’s story) was the one I wanted to write the most. Is anything more romantic than enduring love? However, I knew—in order to write the action as I imagined—I would need to wait until Elizabeth, Sandra, and Ashley had been partnered off first. Once you finish Happily Ever Ninja you will understand why.
Best, Penny Reid
PROLOGUE
Dearest Fiona,
It occurs to me that today is Valentine’s Day. As far as holidays go, this one is absolute rubbish.
I’m surrounded by maudlin men who miss their girlfriends, wives, and Internet porn (perhaps not necessarily in that order). They’ve all arranged delivery back home for overpriced bouquets of reedy flowers and substandard chocolates.
You would be proud of me. I didn’t once point out that a woman who demands gifts on Valentine’s Day is almost as intolerable as a man who only gives gifts because it’s Valentine’s Day.
And yet, it is Valentine’s Day.
And I miss you.
I don’t know how else to write it other than, I miss you.
These months apart grow unbearable. Each passing second is a moment filled with the absence of you and it suffocates me. I realize I promised I would be less morose in my correspondence, but I grip these empty sheets at night and curse them. They are cold where your body is hot and soft and so infinitely mine.
Perhaps I miss the feeling of you beneath my fingertips and belonging wholly to me. Perhaps I miss how you tense and relax in my hands, how you look at me with trust and want. If I’m honest, it’s the want in you I miss the most. The need you have of me. Because it echoes the insatiable and feral nature of my need for you.
I miss you.
At this point you’ve no doubt already gathered I have sent neither chocolate nor flowers for Valentine’s. I do not believe in obligatory gifts any more than I subscribe to compulsory love.
As such, I send you nothing but this letter and my longing for you, neither of which I can contain. I love you.
Yours forever, Greg
CHAPTER 1
Dear Husband,
I love you today more than yesterday. Yesterday you were a real jerk.
-Debbie
Dry-erase board on fridge
New Jersey, USA
Married 28 years
Present Day
Fiona
"Are we going to have sex tonight? I have stuff to do and it's already nine thirty."
“I only have fifteen minutes before I need to go pick up Grace and Jack from ballet.” It may have been 9:30 p.m. for Greg, but it was only 2:30 p.m. for me. I glanced at my watch to confirm this fact. I had less than fifteen minutes. Actually, I had ten. “And we’re not doing anything until you tell me why you haven’t signed the transfer paperwork for the new retirement accounts.”
I didn’t add, And I have a headache. I did have a headache. I’d had a headache and no appetite for the last week, and off and on for the last month and a half, but I kept this information to myself. I didn’t want to worry him.
I watched my husband sigh, his face falling into his hands. He looked tired, burnt out. He worked sixteen-hour days and usually didn’t shave when he was gone. None of the rig workers did. But he must’ve shaved a few days ago because his chin was covered in two-day-old stubble, which only made him look more tired. But it also made him look devilishly sexy. I wished I could reach through the computer screen and give him a hug. And a kiss.
“Fine,” he growled, finally lifting his head and gathering another large breath. His eyes narrowed and they darted over my form, or what he could see of it from his side of the video call. “Could you at least take off your shirt?”
“Greg.”
“Show me your tits.”
“Greg.”
“I miss your skin, just . . . flash me.”
“Greg, be serious.”