And I made her officially mine a year later when we married in a small ceremony at the back of my ranch.
A few months after we were married, Charly opened up her own online clothes store, selling her designs. It got big fast. So, we had to expand and ended up opening up some stores—one in Portland and the other in New York.
We live permanently in Keno at my ranch. We also have another fixed member of the household—Jester. As soon as Charly moved in, so did he. There was no getting him away from her, but I understand that feeling. So, he lives with us and goes back to my parents’ when we’re away.
We also have an apartment in New York, as Charly needs to be there for her business quite often and, of course, to see Nick.
Nick lives in our apartment in New York, so we get to spend plenty of time with him when we’re there. It’s important that we do because he’s Charly’s family, and there is nothing more important than family. It helps that Nick and I get along great. He’s a cool guy.
He spends every Fourth of July, Christmas, and Thanksgiving with us at my parents’ house. My family loves him. Gran wants to adopt him. She’s always trying to talk him into moving to Keno. I think he would if it wasn’t for his business. He has his own interior design company now in New York, and it’s going really well for him. He recently also just started seeing this guy whose apartment he redesigned.
And, talking of Gran, she’s still with Ed. Four years and going strong. He’s a weird guy, but he makes her happy, and I know that’s what granddad would want for her.
So, life is good.
No, it’s fucking great.
And, in three weeks, I’ll be a daddy, and I can’t wait.
The limo slows, and I hear the noise of the crowds of journalists and paparazzi outside.
My cell goes off in my pocket. It’s been buzzing all night.
I pull it out and see a text from Gran.
Gran: Congratulations, Vaughn. You were always going to win. Those other films sucked.
I chuckle.
“Who is it?” Charly asks.
“Just Gran congratulating me in her own unique way.”
I can see she’s writing me another text from the three dots at the bottom, so I wait for it to appear.
Gran: Oh, and Ed has just asked me to marry him. I said yes. And, like I told your mama and daddy, I’m not getting married in the back garden like you and your sister did, FYI.
“Gran is getting married,” I say, shocked.
“Vaughn?”
“Married! My eighty-four-year-old grandmother is fucking getting married!”
“Vaughn—”
“I can’t believe this. I mean, who gets married at eighty-four—”
“Vaughn!”
“What?” I snap my eyes up to her, and I see hers are as wide as saucers.
“Well, I either just peed myself or my water broke.”
I look down to see water trickling down to the floor near my feet.
My eyes dart back to her face. “Your water broke? Holy shit! Your water broke!”
Jesus Christ.
I’m about to become a dad.
I just won an Oscar. Found out my eighty-four-year-old grandmother is getting married. And my wife’s water’s just broke.
At least I can say that my life isn’t boring.
She moans a sound of pain, her hand going to her stomach.
“Don’t worry, Pins. I’ll get you to a hospital.” I press the intercom to the driver. “Driver, nearest hospital. Now. My wife has just gone into labor.”
“Jesus,” he says.
Yeah. No fucking kidding.
“I’ll get you there as quickly as I can. Just hang on.”
I take hold of her hand and look her in the eyes. “You got this, Pins. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way.”
“It hurts,” she groans.
“How bad?”
“Bad.”
“Like a-pin-in-the-ball-sack bad?”
She pinches my nipple through my shirt, twisting it.
“Ow!” I yelp. “That fucking hurt.” I rub at the pain.
“As bad as an eight-pound baby deciding it wants out of your body through a hole the size of a lemon?” She glares at me.
My lips twitch, and I fight the smile because I know she’ll probably maim me if I do, and I really, really like my cock.
“Don’t you dare fucking laugh, West.”
“As if I would.” I take her face in my hands and stare into her eyes. “I love you,” I tell her. “And, no, it didn’t hurt that much. You definitely win that one, Pins.”
Then, I kiss her, the love of my life and soon-to-be mother of my son, as we speed through the streets of LA, hospital-bound, so my son can make his entrance into the world.
And I can’t fucking wait.
Writing a book isn’t a solo endeavor. Many people help me get my stories down onto paper and out into the world, and their help comes in many forms. Craig, Riley, Isabella, Trishy, Sali, Jodi, Jovana, Naj, Sue, Nicky, and Lauren—thank you. I couldn’t do it without each and every single one of you. And another special mention to Craig—thank you for the Bugsy Malone story.
My Wether Girls—I’m so glad I created our group. It’s my safe haven. And the best place to have fun!
Huge thank you to all the bloggers who work tirelessly to help promote books. I appreciate and adore you all.
And my readers—the best readers in the world!—Your continuing support makes it possible for me to do what I love. My biggest thanks goes to you.
SAMANTHA TOWLE is a New York Times, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author. She began her first novel in 2008 while on maternity leave. She completed the manuscript five months later and hasn’t stopped writing since.
She is the author of contemporary romances, The Storm Series and The Revved Series, and stand-alones, Trouble, When I Was Yours, The Ending I Want, Unsuitable, and Sacking the Quarterback, which was written with James Patterson. She has also written paranormal romances, The Bringer and The Alexandra Jones Series. All of her books are penned to the tunes of The Killers, Kings of Leon, Adele, The Doors, Oasis, Fleetwood Mac, Lana Del Rey, and more of her favorite musicians.
A native of Hull and a graduate of Salford University, she lives with her husband, Craig, in East Yorkshire with their son and daughter.