Happy Ending
by
J. Sterling
Happy Ending
Copyright © 2018 J. Sterling
All Rights Reserved
Editing and Formatting:
Pam Berehulke
Bulletproof Editing
Cover Design:
Michelle Preast
Indie Book Covers
Cover Model:
Drew Leighty
Cover Photography:
Tucker Horan
©tuckerhoran
Kindle Edition
License Notes
This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Please do not participate or encourage the piracy of copyrighted materials. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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 the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
ISBN-10: 1-945042-17-6
ISBN-13: 978-1-945042-17-1
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www.j-sterling.com
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Table of Contents
Dedication
Women Are Crazy
Being Pregnant Sucks
Freaking Out
Land Mines
The Bar Is Our Baby
Elephant in the Room
One Last Surprise
Eavesdropping Old Man
Mob Heists
Life Changes
Happy Ending
Other Books by J. Sterling
About the Author
Dedication
This story is for every single one of you who emailed me asking, begging, and clamoring for more of these Fisher boys. I hope you love the story and finish reading this book with a huge smile on your face. I know I did.
Thank you so much for reading.
Women Are Crazy
Ryan
I couldn’t stop staring at my cell phone. The picture Sofia just sent me of herself made my pulse race and my dick throb. My woman was drop-dead gorgeous.
I would swear on everything holy that Sofia was even more beautiful carrying my baby than she was before she became pregnant. There’s nothing quite like seeing the woman you adore grow round and curvy with the product of your love. I always knew I wanted to be a dad, but I never truly understood just how much until meeting her and Matson.
I loved her son like he was my own, and I was determined to make sure that I never treated him any differently than his little sister. Not that we knew what sex the baby was, but I not-so-secretly hoped for a mini Sofia, a mini angel. It was a concern of mine and Sofia’s, one we’d stayed up nights talking about. We both wanted to make sure that Matson knew he was just as much my child as the one growing inside his mom’s belly.
Thankfully, it never even occurred to Matson to be concerned about it. He was just excited to be a big brother. “Like you are to Uncle Nick,” he’d said, and I’d felt like my damn chest might explode.
The only thing better would be making it all official. I’d proposed to Sofia at least a dozen times since we found out she was pregnant, but each time she told me no. The first time I asked, she was concerned that I was only asking because we were having a baby together.
“I don’t want to get married because I’m pregnant, Ryan. They’re two very different things—babies and marriage,” she’d tried to explain, but I refused to listen.
“I bought this ring for you before we found out. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not asking because you’re carrying my love child.”
She cocked her head to the side, bit back a grin, and narrowed her eyes at me. “Then you can wait until after the baby comes to decide if you still love me enough to get married.”
The idea that I wouldn’t love her enough to marry her was beyond absurd. It was official . . . being pregnant made women crazy. Well, crazier than usual.
Another time when I asked, she looked at me like I’d grown two heads. She flat-out refused to get married in a maternity dress and tried to convince me that they didn’t even make them, even though I knew they did. I’d researched them already, but knew if I told her that, I was potentially risking my life by arguing. Pregnant Sofia was a force no one wanted to reckon with. Plus, she didn’t want our wedding pictures to be me looking all hot and perfect in a tux while she looked like a beached whale in white.
Her words, not mine.
The other night when we were lying in bed, I tried to be sneaky and slip the ring on her finger, but the damn thing wouldn’t fit. I couldn’t push it past her knuckle before she realized what I was doing. I knew that once she saw the diamond sparkling on her ring finger, she’d never want to take it off. But she was so swollen, it only further proved her point instead of mine. She insisted that if she couldn’t wear the ring, then she wasn’t saying yes.
Women.
She claimed it was bad enough that her body would still be all out of whack in her bridesmaid dress for Frank and Claudia’s wedding, and that if I loved her at all, I wouldn’t ask her to do that twice. So I’d reluctantly agreed to wait until after our baby was born and Sofia felt beautiful enough to walk down the aisle to me.
I only prayed it would be sooner rather than later.
The desire to make this woman my wife overwhelmed all my other thoughts. She absolutely consumed me, especially after everything that had happened with her ex.
It wasn’t often that I thought about Derek and the car crash he caused, but when I did, I got all choked up, my breath catching as my throat closed up. I could have lost Sofia that night, and the very idea of not having this woman in my life was almost too much for me. I hated thinking about what he’d almost cost me . . . what I could have been forced to live without.
“Dude. Wake the fuck up.”
Nick snapped his fingers in front of me, and I blinked a few times and focused on his smug face.
“What the hell do you want?” I clicked away from the picture of Sofia I’d been staring at and put my phone in my pocket.
“I’d like you to join us here in reality where people are ordering drinks, and it’s your job to make them.” He swung his arm around, gesturing at the half-full bar.
“You make ’em,” I growled, fighting with him for no reason.
“Nah.” He spun and walked away, leaving me alone behind the bar.
Asshole.
I got my head on straight and smiled at the group of women waiting for me to take their orders as our older brother, Frank, walked in through the front door instead of the back.
“Finally,” I yelled to him, even though he was ten minutes early.
Frank gave me a confused look, shaking his head as he walked straight into the office and shut the door.
I decided that both of my brothers were dicks today.
Six cocktails, four b
eers, and three shots later, Nick finally made his way back behind the bar. “What’s his problem?” He nodded toward the closed office door.
I shrugged. “No idea.”
We both stared at the door, willing it to open on its own. Because the truth was, neither of us wanted to have to go in there and figure out what was going on with Frank.
“I’m not going in,” I said before Nick could suggest it. “I have a pregnant girlfriend at home. I can’t deal with any more moodiness.”
“Really? Pulling the pregnant-girlfriend card?”
I nodded vigorously. “Hell yes, I am. You just wait until Jess is pregnant.”
“I thought Sofia was an angel,” Nick said, his teasing tone sounding like Grant.
I missed that old man. He’d been spending more time with Matson’s grandmother since he met her than with us lately. I made a mental note to give him a ration of crap the next time I saw him.
“Yeah, she was. But now she has a demon inside her. She’s mean, man,” I said, exaggerating a bit.
“Fine. I’ll go in.” Nick turned on his heel but stayed put for what seemed like an eternity, but I was pretty sure it was only a few breaths. He’d only taken two tentative steps toward the office when the door flung open and Frank sauntered out.
He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at us. “Why are you both looking at me like that?”
“No reason,” Nick said too quickly, brushing past him and pulling the towel from his back pocket.
“What’s going on?” Frank asked me.
I shrugged. “We were wondering the same thing about you.”
He jerked his head back in surprise, then huffed out, “Nothing.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, injecting a heavy dose of sarcasm. “Sure seems like nothing.”
Frank deflated with a hugh sigh. “It’s the wedding. Between Claudia, her mom, and our mom, I’m going to go insane with all the questions they ask me on a daily basis. I don’t care about the color of the napkins at the reception. And why are there three thousand different shades of white? Who did that? White is white. Just pick one.” He sounded completely exasperated and out of his element.
“Wait until she’s pregnant,” I said seriously.
Frank and I looked at each other, then burst out laughing. We were half crazy, exhausted, or both. There had to be some explanation for our ridiculous laugh attack, especially if ultra-serious Frank was involved.
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to stop laughing and pull myself together.
Frank wiped at his eyes, his expression finally sobering. “I just want to marry my girl without all the fanfare,” he said, and I knew exactly what he meant.
“I feel you. I’d be perfectly happy if we only have a dozen people there when Sofia and I tie the knot.”
I’d hadn’t really thought about a potential guest list for our wedding yet, but saying that out loud felt right. Small and intimate definitely appealed to me. But I knew I’d give Sofia whatever she wanted, even if it was the exact opposite of what I did.
“If anyone will okay a private gathering, it’s your girl,” Frank said confidently. “Hell, she’ll probably let you two get married in the backyard, and I’m going to be so damn jealous about it.”
“It’s not like you and Claudia are having some East Coast wedding with four hundred guests,” I said matter-of-factly, knowing their head count of about sixty was considered small by wedding standards.
“It’s not the number of people. It’s the details. There are so many details.” Frank ran his hands through his hair and blew out a breath. “We couldn’t even send out the invitations without making twenty decisions first. They’re just invitations. Send them an email, for all I care.”
Trying to lighten the mood, I said, “When I get mine, it’s going on my fridge underneath a superhero magnet, just so you know.”
“It better,” Frank said seriously. “Did you know that in order to even pick that invitation, we had to choose the size, the color, and the shape of the paper it was printed on? Did you know that?”
I gave him an embarrassed look. “I actually did know that.”
“Why am I not surprised?” he said with a groan. “You’re a damn princess.”
It had been ages since he’d called me any kind of girlie name. I sort of missed it.
Frank threw his arms out in frustration. “Did you know that you have to pick an ink color, because heaven forbid you simply pick black? And don’t forget to choose a font type. Do you want it to be raised on the invitation, or printed flat? Should the time of the ceremony be spelled out in letters, or be in number format? And, oh yeah, would you like to order the extra square tissue-paper thingy that goes inside the envelope for people to throw away the second they open it? Don’t throw away that fucking tissue square, Ryan, or else.”
The poor guy looked and sounded exhausted. Just when I thought he was finished, Frank started raving again.
“All of that for one thing. One thing. And we’re late sending them out. We’re supposed to give people six weeks’ notice, but we only gave them four. They all know the date anyway. We had to send out the pre-invitation invitations. What are those things called again?”
I wondered if this was meant as a rhetorical question, and if he’d murder me if I answered him. “Save-the-date cards?”
“Yes! Save-the-damn-date cards. They already know the date. The invitation is just a formality.” He gripped my shoulder. Hard. “Do yourself a favor and elope. I’m telling you. Elope and save yourself.”
“Maybe save that speech for Nick.” I glanced toward our youngest brother, who was chatting with customers while wiping down the next table.
There was no way that Sofia and I would ever consider getting married without our families and Matson present. Especially after everything we’d gone through with Derek. Running away and eloping would be like a slap in the face to everyone who had stood by us, worried with us, and fought for us. We could never do that to them.
“You’re right,” Frank said, an odd note in his tone. “If anyone needs to be saved, it’s gonna be him.”
“What do you mean? Jess is great.” My head swung around and I stared at him. I’d never heard Frank say an unkind word about Jess, so I wasn’t sure where this was coming from.
Frank looked at me like I was crazy. “I only meant that Jess works in the entertainment industry. Nick will be lucky if he even knows half the people at his wedding. It could be more of a circus than a wedding.”
The reality of his words crashed down on me.
“Better him than us,” I said, feeling a little sorry for my baby brother. Even imagining that scenario felt like a nightmare to me. “But I don’t see Jess doing that. For as well-known as we all are, we’ve been able to keep our personal lives fairly private.”
I wasn’t telling Frank anything that he didn’t already know. By far, the biggest media blitz had come after everything with Derek had been revealed—from his betrayal to his mental breakdown and his stalking Sofia. And then there was the car accident and his attempt to shoot me.
But our story was quickly eclipsed by other celebrity news, and things settled down faster than any of us had anticipated. I was grateful for that. The limelight was uncomfortable, especially since Matson was involved. He was too young to have to deal with notoriety.
“I’m just saying . . .” Frank let out a huff. “Jess might feel pressured to invite certain people, is all.”
I clapped him on the back. “It’ll be fine. He has us to keep him centered.”
“You and I both know that boy doesn’t listen for shit.” Frank rolled his eyes.
“He’ll be fine. And so will you. Your wedding is right around the corner, and then everything can go back to normal.”
I hoped I was right. But what the hell did I know about weddings and turning girlfriends into wives?
Nothing.
Not a damn thing.
And we both knew it.
Being Pregnant Sucks r />
Sofia
My ankles were swollen and my back hurt. Oh my God, being pregnant with Matson when I was a teenager was way easier than being pregnant now.
Everything ached, and I was miserable. Aside from the grape popsicles and Italian food I craved, I could stomach little else. It was a disgusting combination, I knew that, but the love child inside my belly was destroying me. The fact that it was Ryan Fisher’s baby was its only saving grace. I loved that man with every fiber of my being, and I couldn’t wait to give him a child. And not just because I needed him or her out of me.
After everything we’d gone through, this baby was such a blessing. New life had sprung out of chaos and death.
We’d never planned to get pregnant so soon, but life doesn’t always follow your rules. This baby was exactly what we never knew we needed. And he or she was so very wanted. The pregnancy brought our families together, strengthening an already solid bond. It had brought everyone closer, even if it made me physically uncomfortable.
And Ryan had been completely amazing throughout the pregnancy so far. He rubbed my feet each night. He talked to my growing belly, and he took care of Matson without me having to ask. The man was a superhero, just like Matson always said he was. Maybe Ryan did deserve a cape?
I stirred the pasta on the stove, making spaghetti yet again, and waited for the complaints as the front door flew open.
“It smells delicious, angel,” Ryan said as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. When he saw me, his eyes lit up just as mine filled with tears.
I knew he was lying. There was no way this man could possibly stomach another bowl of noodles and marinara sauce.
He rushed to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. “What’s the matter? What happened? Are you okay? Do you feel all right?”
I sniffed and wiped at the tears now freely falling down my cheeks. “I’m sorry that I’m making spaghetti again.”