The First Time (A Time For Love Book 2) Read online

  a romance by

  Amelia Stone

  THE FIRST TIME

  Copyright 2017 Amelia Stone

  All rights reserved

  Cover image and graphics: Jamy Mawhorter / JamyLyn Art

  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 written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or advertisement.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, brands, 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, actual events, or locales is 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 owners.

  In loving memory of Jessica White. Your encouragement, support, and friendship were always appreciated, far more often than I told you. I miss you, my friend.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Amelia Stone

  We were making chocolate chip cookies when she dropped the bomb.

  “So, what do you say?” my best friend, Hannah Whitfield, asked me. “Will you be my maid of honor?”

  I should have seen it coming. Hannah had been chattering nonstop about all things wedding ever since she got engaged, and she’d hinted when she gave me the good news that there was something important she wanted to talk about in person. But her restaurant, Hannah’s Kitchen, had opened the same day she got engaged, and she’d been so busy getting her new business off the ground that today was her first day off in more than a month. It’d been so long that I’d kind of put the whole thing out of my mind.

  And okay, sure, maybe we’d once sworn a “blood oath” that we would be each other’s maids of honor when the time came. But we’d been too chicken to use actual blood, so we just smeared strawberry jelly on our hands. Also, we were twelve at the time. I didn’t think she’d even remember that oath, let alone hold me to it.

  Long story short, Hannah’s request kind of came as a shock.

  For one long, panic-filled moment after she asked me, I froze. All the muscles in my body locked up as every possible doomsday scenario ran through my head, my thoughts going from zero to terror in less than sixty seconds. I could trip, because high heels. I could stutter and splutter and – oh God – even forget my speech. (Fuck. I would have to make a speech!) I could drink too much and make a scene. I could get so nervous that I’d barf in front of a hundred of Hannah and Brian’s closest friends and family.

  Oh God. She could make me wear a sleeveless dress.

  I set down the cookie scoop I’d been using and turned to look at my best friend in the whole wide world. Hannah’s face was a mask of nervousness, probably not unlike mine. She knew I wasn’t crazy about being the center of attention. Or the off-center. Or even the off-off-center. But I’d never let her know just how deep my anxieties went, that I’d pretty much rather die than have that many people focusing on me.

  Because right above her nervous frown, there was a glimmer of hopefulness in her bright green eyes, like a big chunk of her future happiness rested on my answer. Her eyes told me she’d love nothing more right now than for me to say yes.

  So I took a deep breath and grinned, hoping my expression looked genuine. Hoping she didn’t see the mass of what-ifs and pure, naked fear that had just hit me like a ton of bricks. Hoping she wouldn’t think I didn’t support her.

  Because that was not the case. Not at all. I loved Hannah as though she were my own sister. She’d been my best friend and confidant since before puberty. Countless inside jokes, whispered secrets, and shared dreams had cemented the bonds between us over the years. We’d been there for each other through every up and down. I knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do for me.

  And there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her, either. Because if there was one thing that made me want to die more than being on display for a huge crowd, it was letting down the people I loved most.

  “Oh my God! Of course I will!” I cried, internally wincing when I heard the shrill edge to my voice. I paused, taking another deep breath to calm myself. “I’d be honored, Hannah. Really.” And this time my tone was sincere, thankfully. Even though being her maid of honor was pretty much the last thing I wanted to do, I knew what a big deal it was. My best friend was planning her dream wedding, and she wanted me to be a part of it. How could I possibly say no?

  “Honored,” she echoed, her eyes going wide in what looked like awe. Then she looked away for a moment, blinking rapidly, and I knew she was fighting tears. “Oh, man, don’t start that sappy shit,” she said in a thick voice, and I laughed. “I’ll cry, and then you’ll cry, and then Brian will come in here and be stupid because he can’t handle emotions-”

  “I heard that!” came the deep, grumpy-sounding voice of Hannah’s fiancé, Brian Campbell, from the living room.

  “But you didn’t deny it!” Hannah called back, laughing with me now.

  Brian scowled at us as he came into the kitchen, where Hannah and I were surrounded by the chaos of cookie baking. The state of the room was driving me insane, to be honest. I hated messes of any kind, and this one was spectacular. There were eggshells and dirty dishes piled in the sink, flour was sprinkled on the floor from where Hannah had spilled it, and there were open ingredient containers everywhere. I was dying. But I bit my lip and continued placing cookies on the baking sheet in front of me, reminding myself over and over that this was not my dang kitchen.

  But Brian seemed intrigued by the whole process. Or maybe just the tasty cookie dough, I thought as he licked his lips. His blue eyes narrowed, roaming the marble-topped island as though surveying the battlefield. “So, what’s the verdict?”

  He leaned against the counter, watching like a hawk, clearly just waiting for one of us to slip and give him an opening to steal some gooey, chocolatey goodness. I shook my head at him, as though to say, good luck with that, dude. Hannah jealously guarded the dough every time she made cookies, probably because she was, God love her, a control freak through and through. (Not that I had any room to judge. Exhibit A: my internal freak-out over the state of someone else’s house.)

  “She said yes, of course.” Hannah grinned as she slid a cookie sheet into the oven. “She wouldn’t leave me high and dry on my big day.” She turned back to the island, slapping at Brian’s creeping hand. “I mean, there’s no one else who could do it,” she continued smoothly, like there hadn’t been any interruption.

  “Well, I guess you could have asked Celia,” Brian pointed out, frowning down at his hand.

  Hannah snorted. “Yeah, right. I don’t even think she wants to be in the wedding party.”

  “Why do you say that?” I asked her. Celia Ruiz was one of our oldest and closest friends. The three of us had been inseparable since elementary school. We’d both been bridesmaids in Celia’s wedding five years ago, and I’d always just kind of assumed she’d do the same for us, too.

  “When she came to the restaurant last week, I
made a comment about getting together to try on dresses. She said, and I quote, ‘ain’t nobody want to be a bridesmaid.’”

  I threw my head back in a laugh. Celia had definitely never been one to mince words. But she was rarely serious, for all her trash talk.

  Still, Hannah’s shoulders were slumped, telling me Celia’s comments had cut to the bone. I quickly stifled my laugh and bumped her shoulder with mine, flashing her what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “I’m sure she’s just teasing you,” I said. “She’ll do it, you’ll see.”

  “I don’t know,” Hannah replied, her mouth folding into a frown. “She seemed serious this time.” She scrunched up her freckled nose. “She said, ‘If you even think about stuffing my pregnant ass in taffeta, I will end you.’” Her voice was a perfect imitation of Celia’s sharp, acerbic tone, and I had to bite back a giggle.

  “She’s probably just cranky because of the pregnancy. You know she was miserable all through the last two,” I pointed out.

  Hannah groaned. “God, I was this close to making her a tee shirt that said ‘I hate being pregnant.’” She held up a hand, her thumb and index finger jammed together.

  I grinned. “She did say that once or twice, huh?”

  “Once, twice,” Hannah replied. “Every goddamn day.” She rolled her eyes, smiling.

  “Yeah, but this is her third kid. You’d think she’d be used to it all by now.” Brian ran a hand through his light brown hair, looking befuddled. I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. He was a smart guy, but completely clueless when it came to dealing with emotions.

  “Supposedly, every pregnancy is different,” I pointed out. “Even if you’ve done it before.” Or so I’d been told. I didn’t have any kids, so how would I know for sure? “Plus, it’s July. That has to suck, being pregnant in the summer. You’re uncomfortable as fuck, and then it’s a hundred-plus degrees on top of that.”

  “Ugh. Monsoon season.” Brian shivered.

  “Well, I just hope it won’t be as hard on me when the time comes,” Hannah said, looking a little green at the gills.

  “Wait, are you…?” My eyes raked her flat stomach.

  She shook her head. “No, but we want to start trying after the honeymoon.”

  I let out a quiet sigh. I didn’t think I could handle another shock right now.

  “Well, trying minus the birth control,” Brian quipped.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” I teased him. “Kids have feelings and moods and do completely irrational things.”

  Hannah blanched, but Brian just smiled calmly. “Surprisingly, I am.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Hannah shot back, her tone approaching screechy. “I’m the one who has to carry the damn thing inside of me for almost ten months. And Celia makes it sound about as fun as having Ebola.” She gulped. “And then you’re stuck with them for the rest of your life. You have to teach them how to tie their shoes and eat and read and like, be a human.” She took several shallow breaths, her eyes roving the room like she was about to bolt.

  I put an arm around her shoulder, rubbing soothingly. “Sure, but I hear there’s good stuff, too,” I said. “You love them, and they love you. You get to watch them grow up and become wonderful people, knowing you’re the one who made it happen.” I grinned. “Well, if you do it right.”

  She looked over at me, her eyes huge with fear. “But what if I can’t do it?” she asked plaintively.

  “You can,” I said with conviction. I had no doubt Hannah would be a great mom.

  “And I’ll help you through it, babe.” Brian gave her a rueful smile. “Well, I’ll try, anyway. I’ll channel my inner… whoever the opposite of me is.”

  I laughed, but this time Hannah didn’t join me. I glanced at her, surprised to see she’d done a complete one-eighty from her fear of a moment ago. Her cheeks were glowing and her smile could best be described as beaming as she looked at Brian. Aww. She definitely had it bad for her fiancé.

  Fiancé. Dang. I realized with a jolt that my best friend was really, truly an adult now. Seems kind of obvious, especially since we were pushing thirty, but I guess it’d sort of crept up on me. Hannah owned her own restaurant, something she’d worked toward for years. She and Brian bought this house a couple of years ago, and they’d been renovating it themselves, bit by bit. Like, they owned a reciprocating saw and had half-empty cans of paint stacked in the garage. If that didn’t scream “adult,” I had no idea what did. And now they were getting married in just four short months.

  And not only that, but my other friends were all adult-y, too. In fact, when I really thought about it, it seemed like everyone I knew was married, or having kids, or working in their dream jobs – and some, like Celia and her husband Todd, were doing all three. All around me, people were making lives for themselves and achieving their goals.

  And then there was me. I didn’t have a dream job. I liked running the office at the county animal shelter, but it wasn’t a calling. They gave me enough to live on, and I didn’t have to deal with the public. It seemed like the best I could do, considering I had a fine arts degree that was hardly worth the paper it was printed on, career-wise. The rest of my life was similarly blah, too. I lived in a nondescript apartment, drove a boring car, and went on underwhelming dates that never had any potential. Well, sometimes I dated. Not often. Okay, fine. I rarely dated. But they were always bad, so at least I had consistency going for me.

  Standing in Hannah’s gourmet kitchen, I realized maybe my problem wasn’t that I didn’t feel like a grown-up. No, my problem was that I hadn’t had a dream – a real, honest to God, “this would complete my life” type of dream – in years. Not since my last dream moved halfway around the world to follow some other woman and never came back.

  “Right, Jamy?”

  Hannah’s voice snapped me out of my morose thoughts, and I looked up, blinking. She was smiling at me expectantly, and I felt awful that I hadn’t been paying attention.

  “Huh?”

  She rolled her eyes, but her smile only got bigger. “I said, you’ll be the best maid of honor ever!”

  I let out a nervous laugh. “If by ‘best,’ you mean ‘super awkward,’ then sure.” I cracked.

  Her eyes shone with sincerity as she grabbed me by the shoulders. “You are going to be awesome. I believe in you.”

  “Well, thanks.” I tried for a smile, internally squirming at the words of encouragement. She sounded much more sure of me than I could ever be.

  Hannah chuckled as she turned back to her cookie sheet, dropping a few more scoops of dough onto it. “Anyway, don’t worry, because you won’t be the only one standing up there. I’m making Celia do it whether she wants to or not.” I laughed, and she grinned at me. “Plus, my mother will kill me if I ask Sabine, so she’s a given,” she continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

  Sabine Baptiste was Hannah’s cousin, and my roommate. She marched to the beat of her own drum, which drove Hannah’s uptight mom nuts.

  “And of course, Brian’s dudes,” Hannah finished.

  I laughed. “Brian’s Dudes. Sounds like a forgotten grunge band from the nineties.”

  “And they’ll probably look just as scruffy,” he put in. “Unless Sam finally decides to shave that horrendous beard.”

  Hannah laughed, but this time I was the one who didn’t join in. For the second time in less than ten minutes, my muscles contracted in terror.

  “Sam?” I squeaked. “Your brother Sam?”

  “Duh, my brother Sam.” Hannah threw me a strange look. “How many other Sams do you know?”

  “Also known as my best friend Sam,” Brian added helpfully, draining his beer and tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin.

  “But I thought Sam was in Portugal,” I said, my voice sounding much too high. “I thought he was all settled there.” The last I’d heard from Sam, he had no intention of coming back to America anytime soon. His life, his career – his love – were in Lisbon.
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  Hannah faced me, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to see into my thoughts. “Yeah, but he’ll be here for the wedding, at least.”

  Brian raised an eyebrow. “Well, it’ll be a bit longer than that.”

  “What do you mean?” Hannah asked, turning to him with a frown.

  “He’s moving back home for good.” Brian frowned. “He took a job with that prep school in Scottsdale, remember?”

  Once more, I stiffened, unable to move for the shock coursing through my system. Sam, back in Arizona? For good? Oh God.

  Hannah let out a squawk. “What the hell? When did he decide that?”

  “He called me last week to tell me. Didn’t he say anything to you?”

  Hannah shook her head. “I just talked to him a couple of days ago. Did he forget to tell me?”

  It was a reasonable question. Sam was notorious for being a bit absent-minded, to put it lightly.

  Brian shook his head. “He must have.”

  I frowned. Typical Sam, forgetting something major like this. He’d always been a total scatterbrain. He had a laser-like focus on the things that fascinated him, but he forgot just about everything else. When we were kids, his mother would lament that he could read War and Peace in one day, but he couldn’t remember her birthday. I’d always felt kind of bad for him.

  But then I remembered how he’d treated me in the last few years, and I didn’t feel quite so bad for him. I was angry at Sam. Really angry. The kind of anger I wouldn’t be able to get past.

  Maybe. It was hard to say. But I guess I’d find out soon enough. The new school year would start the first week in August, so he’d undoubtedly be back before then.

  I breathed deeply. That wasn’t so bad. I’d have a couple of weeks at least to get used to the idea of Sam being back in my life.

  Hannah scowled. “Un-freaking-believable! How many times is that lunkhead going to move halfway around the world and forget to tell everyone?”

  “Well, he did tell me,” Brian pointed out.