Recovery Read Online Free PDF Page A

perfect flower girls, and the path to my new happy ever after was completely covered with beautiful red, dark pink, and white rose petals.
    As it should be.
    In typical bride and groom fashion, Blake and I were to be brought to the reception in a white limousine…alone. However, after the girls spotted our form of transportation, I knew we would have company. And I didn’t really mind… then .
    Now, however, it’s a different story. Every part of Blake’s body is calling to mine. Every brush of his arm against mine, every graze of his hand on my leg, the delicate way his fingers caress the nape of my neck; every movement ignites a scorching, pulsating wave of want and desire that I just really need to extinguish. With him . Like, now .
    Not helping with my overall frustration level is the damn window that keeps going up and down, up and down, up and down. I love how my children act like they’ve never been in an automobile before. It never ceases to amaze me. Maybe I should let them venture out in public more often.
    “Mommy, where are we going? I thought we were going home,” Rylie whines, dragging out the last word.
    “We’re going to a party,” Nycole answers with an exhale, the whining obviously grating her nerves as well.
    “A potty ? For me? Are there going to be presents?” Rylie excitedly starts bouncing up and down on the seat. I put my hand up to my mouth as I’m suddenly overcome with nausea due to the vigorous, extremely unnecessary movement.
    Fire: extinguished.
    “A party, Rylie. A par-ty.” Nycole answers back. “And not for you. For Mom and Blake. And no presents for you. Those are also for Mom and Blake .”
    “Oh.” Rylie stops bouncing and looks up at me, batting those mile-long lashes. I know what’s coming before she even asks.
    “Can I help you open the presents, Mommy?” She adds a tilt of her head and deepens her dimples with a smile. I know this technique. I’ve seen it used many times on both grandparents and unsuspecting strangers.
    “If you stop bouncing on the seat, I’ll let you open all of them. How about that?” I hear Blake laughing under his breath while running his fingers across my bare shoulder.
    Pilot light: lit.
    “Aww, how come she gets to open all the presents?” Kyndall asks.
    “I’m sure we can find a couple for you and Nyc to open somewhere.” I give her a quick wink and the frown on her little face transforms into a worry-free smile.
    “Mommy, you already said I could open all the presents.” I exhale a deep breath knowing this is about to turn into a thirty minute argument and screaming match, most likely ending up with no one opening any presents.
    Before I can answer, Blake chimes in, “How about we divide the presents and everyone gets to open the same number? That way no one gets left out.”
    “Okay.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Nycole and I exchange wide-eyed glances. Well, that was easy.

     
    The limousine slows to turn into the parking lot where our reception is to be held, an upscale bar that Blake and Trace just purchased together. A business investment they called it.
    Sure.
    Blake ended up selling his business in Colorado, turning a nice profit and did, in fact, take over his father’s ownership of Morgan Construction. When he’s not scouting out the new duplex sites they’re bidding on, I can usually find him here, working on the bar. He just finished gutting the interior, replacing the bar tops with a beautiful dark, oak wood and the floor with tiles of a similar shade. A real man’s bar. It’s turning out beautifully, just as all of his work does.
    They decided to call it, The Office. Laughing for weeks, both Blake and Trace were genuinely pleased with the pure genius of their naming convention. Such masterminds to allow their patrons the ability to evade any possible interrogation from their wives or husbands regarding their whereabouts. Normally I’d be offended, but seeing as though my husband would literally be at the office, I