Here’s the prologue for Finally Us (True Love, Book 3) which is in dual points of view 🙂
It’s said that there’s nothing more beautiful than someone who smiles after struggling through tears.
Well, then I must be frickin’ stunning.
And having to wear a smile all the damned time because you know that the minute you stop you’ll start to cry is exhausting.
And that just sucks.
I’ve been walking around for the past four months doing just that knowing that the minute I let my guard down, I’ll crumble. And I don’t want to crumble. Crumbling means picking up the pieces and I don’t have time for that.
Damn it, I’m a strong, independent woman (at least that’s what Mom tells me) who now has a great job that I busted my ass for. I’ve got great friends, a great family and most everything is going well for me. I mean, I bought my first pair of Jimmy Choo’s last week, for crying out loud. I should be on top of the world, right?
Yeah, well… yeah.
My name is Ellen Love, I’m twenty-five years old and despite all the good in my life (seriously, those Jimmy Choo’s are fabulous), I’m currently a shadow of my former self.
Wait. Hear that? That’s a tiny violin playing, “My Heart Bleeds for You.”
Go fuck yourself, violin.
And, apparently, I’m a little angry.
Anyway, on what do I blame my current condition, you ask. To be honest, the reason is that my heart is broken, I’m pissed off, and I owe it all to Jagger Knox Jensen.
See, Jag was the love of my life for twenty years. Twenty years! And now that he’s no longer here, I feel broken. Completely shattered.
And I hate it.
I miss him.
I want him back.
But I know that can’t happen unless we get some things worked out first.
And although my family and friends have tried to help me, the advice I’ve received has been far from comforting.
Mom says hearts were meant to be broken.
Dad says time heals all wounds.
And my best friend Rebecca says it takes half the time you were together to get over someone.
Soooo, I’m thinking that I’ll be fine in, oh, another nine and a half years.
Breaking up with someone you love is a total mindfuck.
First of all, you still love them, so why the hell are you breaking up? Second, when things happen in your life, you want to share them with that person, but they’re no longer there which is total bullshit. And third, well, third is the worst because there’s this person-shaped hole inside of you, and no matter what you do to fill this void, it remains empty, reminding you that nothing can fill it but them.
And the El-shaped chasm in my fucking chest hurts like a son of a bitch.
I miss her.
I want her back.
But then again, I’m so pissed at her that I know I need to stay away. For how long, I don’t know. I guess until I don’t want to throw shit whenever I see her.
And this has been going on for four months.
My name is Jag Jensen (Hi, Jag), I’m twenty-seven and I think I’ve now earned the Platinum Assholes Anonymous card. I’m not proud of it, just so you know.
Although Ellen Love and I have known each other for most of our lives, we were officially together for almost nine years before our breakup. That’s a long time to be with someone to just throw it all away. But I guess sometimes you have to take a break from each other, put things on hold for a bit. At least I hope that’s what this is, a break.
And breaks suck.
My family and friends have tried helping me, but it’s just something I’m going to have to work through, I guess.
Dad tells me hanging on is sometimes harder than letting go.
Mom says everything happens for a reason.
And my friend Baxter says that when it’s ready to work itself out, it fucking will.
I’ll say this much, I’m not going to lose her and I’ll fight to get her back. But the time for that is not now, so I’ll wait.
Just. Fucking. Awesome.
Harper Bentley © 2014