A Change of Heart Read online

  A Change of Heart

  Copyright © 2021 by Randa Knight.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact :

  http://www.randaknightbooks.com

  Editor : Nadara Merrill

  www.thatgrammargal.com

  ISBN: 123456789

  First Edition: Month 2013

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Table of Contents

  SIGN UP

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  EPILOGUE

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  “NO, NO, NO, NO,” I repeat, staring at the white stick I peed on five minutes ago. This cannot be happening. I had a plan. Until recently, I never planned anything. One of the numerous effects Michael has had on my life. He’s a planner. Me, I’m a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type of gal. These stupid things can be wrong, right? False positives and all that. Yeah, I don’t believe myself either. No way can that little stick be right.

  Great, just fucking great. I broke up with the man two weeks ago. Now I gotta call the sexy stud to tell him he’s going to be a father. Never mind he’s the love of my life. That’s not what I’m focusing on right now. What I’m thinking about is that I’ll have to see the smug look on that gorgeous face. I can’t do it. I can’t. I can’t face those sparkling blue eyes, high cheekbones, silky jet-black hair, oh and how can I forget his sculpted body? The man works out every damn day and it shows. If I call him, he’ll come over and I gotta face all that sexiness. I’ll cave to him. I always do. That’s why I had to break up with him. He makes me weak—everywhere. Oddly, he didn’t fight me.

  I pick myself up off the cold bathroom floor where I’ve been wallowing and grab my cell. The phone rings several times. “Hey, I need you to come here like STAT. It’s...” I pull the phone away from my ear to see the person I need to speak with—Lizzy. What? I’m not making life-changing decisions without consulting my person. Lizzy has been my rock, my soulmate, since freshmen year at University of Nebraska where we were neighbors and later roommies.

  “What’s up? I have about ten minutes before I head in to help Aunt Ginny with her next meeting. Talk fast,” she says, the exhaustion evident in the tone of her voice.

  “Ten minutes won’t do. I need you here now. I was just leaving you a voicemail. This is epic. Life-changing. I-I...” I trail off. I will myself not to cry.

  Lizzy cuts me off. “Ok, you know I can’t just hop in my car and run over to you. It’s a two-hour plane ride or ten-hour drive from New York to the beach house. I don’t have time for this today. Please give me the cliff notes version of your latest meltdown. What, did Mike show up and sweep you off your feet... oh no...did he propose even though you broke his heart...again?” she questions. Her voice oozes with disappointment, and judginess is evident with the last part.

  My voice cracks. “N-no. I-I just really need you,” I say as I feel the tears trickling down my face. What makes it worse is that I can tell she’s having a craptastic day too since she’s rarely this blunt or terse with me. And she has level-five sarcasm going on, which only I usually do. Not sweet Lizzy. She’s channeling her inner Dee. I knew someday I would rub off on her. Too bad it’s me she’s doing it to. Karma is a fickle bitch I’ve been served with twice today.

  She sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m having a really, really bad day. I hate that I can’t just drive to you. It makes me mad. Let me call you back in a few. I’ll try to clear my schedule to come down for at least a long weekend.” She whispers, “God, I hate this place. Love ya.” Click. She doesn’t wait for my response. That is so not like Lizzy. She’s the sweet, considerate friend who puts up with my dramatics. I’m the selfish party girl who attempts to corrupt her. I really don’t want to call Michael.

  And I don’t. Instead, I head to the local box home improvement store for some supplies. I need to dig my hands into the ground. Breathe life into something through my hands.

  Four bags of fertilizer, two bags of potting soil, plants, a new trowel, an extra hand cultivator, and some seeds. I’m missing something. I continue to walk down each aisle trying to figure out what I’m missing when my cart abruptly stops. Chad. My co-worker at the Green Creek Community Center. Chad looks in my cart, raises his eyebrows.

  “What happened?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I respond and smile innocently.

  A full belly laugh escapes his lips. “Nice try, suga’,” he replies with his deep southern accent. “Tell me what has you upset. You only do that,” he says, pointing to my cart, “when you’re upset about something, you know like every time something happens with you and...” Chad is interrupted by a short blonde, who wraps her arms protectively around his waist. That’s his cue and he follows her. “This conversation isn’t over,” he says. Why couldn’t I be attracted to that hunk of a man?

  Great, something to look forward to on Monday. It won’t just be Chad; he’s got a big mouth. The gossipy little bitch will tell Bessie and Maggie. All three of them will gang up on me to spill my guts. I love my co-workers, but sometimes they annoy the hell out of me.

  I lug the bags into the trunk of my car when Lizzy texts me her flight info. Guess I’m not gardening tonight.

  Six hours and two pints of Rocky Road later, Lizzy whines, “Not that I’m complaining, but why are we only eating ice cream? This is not the norm—ice cream, pizza, and copious amounts of booze is. Annnd, you still haven’t told me why I hopped on a plane to North Carolina.” She licks her spoon clean.

  I walk into my in-suite bathroom, grab the stick, toss it at her... and wait for her reaction.

  Oddly, the klutz actually catches it. Her eyes bug out. “Ewww, gross. You peed on that? Holy shit! The two lines mean? Oh crap! Have you...?” I shake my head. I wait for her to process it so she can help me. It still hasn’t sunk in. She takes a few deep breaths, looks me dead in the eyes, and adds, “What have you done so far?”

  I shrug and murmur, “Peed on the stick... and called you... oh and went to the store.” I plop down beside her to finish off the Cherry Chunk pint on the coffee table.

  She squints her eyes, puckers her lips, and tilts her head toward the sliding glass doors that lead to the back deck. This is her thinking look. I need Lizzy to help me. “Call the doctor?” I shake my head. “Only me?” I nod. “Ok, so you’re still freaking out?” I refuse to look at her. She continues. “Of course, you are. That’s why you called me here. Gardening supplies?”

  “In the trunk,” I reply.

  “Where?”

  “The beach house four doors down is empty.” I lean back on the sofa, prop my feet on the coffee table, and a deep sigh escapes my lungs.

  “How many of the neighbors are around?”

  “Not many, one or two for the whole street. It’s still off season.”

  She disappears into her room, returning wearing faded jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. One would think we’re planning a crime instead of illegally landscaping my neighbor’s yard.

  “I’m presuming we’re doing this tonight. Why are you still sitting there?” she questions. I love that she knows exactly what I need. I change so we can head out. This isn’t the first covert gardening project we’ve tackled.

  We unload half of my trunk into the neighbor’s grassy area before I tackle it with the hand cultivator. Lizzy does the same a few feet from me.

  “Do you remember when we came here right after graduation?” She rolls back on her knees, her eyes starry with a huge grin on her face. That was the greatest summer. It was also when we met Michael and his best friend, Josh.

  Ten months earlier...

  “COME ON, LIZZY. YOU ARE taking fooor-evah.” I grab a bottled water from the fridge and head down the hall to Lizzy’s room. “I’m coming in even if you’re naked.”

  She’s holding up the miniskirt I laid out for her to wear. “This is NOT a skirt.” She points to the clothes I put on t
he bed earlier. “You expect me to wear those? I don’t think so.”

  I look at her impatiently and grab the skirt to help her into it. “I did that stupid dinner party thing, where old man Howard tried to grope me. You owe me. A night of three Ds—drinking, dancing, and hopefully, we both end the night with dick.” She pulls the shimmery tank top over her head, and I unhook her bra.

  “What the hell are you doing? I need that,” she bitches and attempts to stop me. I roll my eyes at her dramatics.

  “No, you don’t. Besides, your bra straps were showing.”

  “So, I can unhook the straps. I can’t go braless. My boobs are bigger than yours. I can’t dance without a bra. Give it back without the straps.” I hand the bra back sans straps. She adds, “And the third is not an option. Don’t leave me for one either!”

  My eyes widen and I mock, “When have I done that?”

  “New York when we went out with my aunt. You left me for the lead singer of a band.”

  “Ginny was with you. If it makes you feel better, he was a complete disappointment. Total false advertising.” I cringe at the memory.

  Lizzy pulls the strappy stilettos on and huffs. “Not really. If sleeping around with random guys makes you happy, go ahead. Not my cuppa tea. Let’s get this night over with.” We head out to start our bar crawl.

  By the time we make it to the third bar—Whiskey Tango Foxtrot—both of us are buzzed. My bestie’s angelic face scowls at me while I’m slowly and seductively moving my ass up the slacks-covered thighs of the guy I’m dancing with. He’s normally not my type—Wall Street business types are wound waaaay too tight for me. But I’m equal opportunity. He’s cute enough and the man can dance.

  Lizzy is still giving me that look. I hate that look. The look that tells me one of two things: One—I’ve said or done something while drinking that’s pissed her off. Or two—some asshat has hit on her and won’t take a hint she’s not interested. I know her too well. Option number two is most likely the winner tonight. Clubbing is not her thing, but she comes to protect me from... well, myself. I wouldn’t trust me either. Drunk me will say and do inappropriate things, like have sex in the club bathroom with my ex-boyfriend/bartender. Never again. Sadly, it wasn’t even worth the five minutes.

  “You need to meet new people. Find that fling Aunt Ginny told you find. Loosen up. Let your hair down,” I coax and flash her a huge grin.

  Lizzy is wearing one of my black leather miniskirts and a low-cut sparkly tank top with sexy lace-up, heeled boots that stop below her knees. I’m rockin’ a slinky, midnight blue halter dress that leaves little to the imagination.

  Normally, I would ditch Lizzy for a meaningless hookup or disappear for a quickie in the restroom. Tonight, that just doesn’t appeal to me. Don’t get me wrong, if I find a hottie, I’m bringing him home.

  Lizzy seems more frazzled than usual. This has never been her thing. She usually comes to appease me and babysit my big mouth. Like I said, I tend to say and do inappropriate things when smashed out of my mind. I have gotten into fights, both verbal and physical, when plastered cause my mouth has a mind of its own.

  “Let’s go. You’re beyond drunk. I don’t want to carry your butt up the stairs again,” she says, rolling her eyes at the hunk checking us both out. “No, he’s not even good looking.” I probably should listen to her, but I never do.

  Smiling above her shoulder at the hunk heading our way, I add, “Ok, but first...” I push Lizzy toward the brown-eyed stud that would definitely loosen her up... if she would let him. Though, she won’t. She doesn’t believe in casual hookups or one-night stands, while I’m the queen of them. Does that stop me from trying? Nope.

  She’s the yin to my yang. My peanut butter to marshmallow. My glue to glitter. My soulmate.

  Watching the hunk chat up Lizzy makes me want to find someone for myself. Until... the hunk puts his hands on her ass.

  Lizzy goes stiff as a board and plasters a fake smile on her face. I know she wants to dropkick his ass for being so forward. I like that in a guy, but she doesn’t. There are certain places she doesn’t like to be touched, especially only knowing the guy for like five seconds—ok, three minutes. But still. I’m giving him one more minute to move his hand before I walk over and pretend we’re lovers. What? I may have done that a time or two—ok, numerous times—just to chase guys off. Only sometimes they think we want a threesome. I mean, really?

  “Hey, gorgeous.” I barely acknowledge the muscled-up brunette who barely fits into his shirt. Normally, I would ogle his muscles busting out from his shirt. But I gotta watch my girl. Lizzy sighs and sips her lime and club soda. She quit drinking about an hour ago. She’s so responsible. I should be more like her, but instead, I did shots with a bunch of guys renting a house down the road from us. Lizzy rolls her lips inward while the stud leans in to whisper in her ear. She’s not laughing or flirting, being her polite self. He probably thinks she’s into him.

  “Do you want another drink? Or dance?” Mr. Muscles asks, standing directly in front of me and blocking my view of Lizzy. I really should stop drinking. But where’s the fun in that? My flirting continues.

  My response to Mr. Muscles is “Sure. A cranberry vodka, please.” I head over to the bar with him cause a girl can’t be careless with her drinks. Mr. Muscles hands me the drink from the bartender. I flirt and touch his oh-so-incredible biceps while chatting him up about his physique. I mean, da-a-a-amn. His arms are huge, something that makes my hands look tiny.

  “Come dance with me,” he requests.

  My lower lip juts out as I contemplate my next move. Looking around the bar is when I realize what a horrible friend I am for not checking on Lizzy. Shit, she will kill me even though I’ve only been gone for two songs. She’s sitting at a table and is on her phone, and I ditch the muscled-up brunette for my bestie, who looks completely miserable.

  “Hey... sorry ‘bout that.” I use my pouty face to soften the blow, wrapping her in my arms and hoping she forgives me for ditching her. “So... did you get his number?” I ask. She loops her arms in mine and we head out.

  She raises her eyebrows, showing I’m outta my mind for even asking. I should know better since the bar scene isn’t her thing. “You know... never mind.” Lizzy storms off down the street toward her aunt’s super awesome beach house. If I was gay, I would be all over Lizzy. Unfortunately, I love the D. I need a male version of her. I should get on that.

  “No, you don’t. I wouldn’t date you even if we were both gay and you were the last person on Earth. You are too much sometimes. And a complete ho. Not my type. You only say things like that when you’re drunk.” Lizzy snarks and smirks at me. Guess I said all of that aloud. Whoops. “Yeah, you did. I still love you. I’m just tired and didn’t want to come out tonight. I mean...” She trails off as we cross the street toward the beach.

  Lizzy continues. “I’m not looking forward to working for my aunt and grandfather,” she admits. We stop on the front steps, and she plops down, crossing her long legs across three steps. I lay my head on her shoulder and think about all the what ifs.

  “I know.” I must still say everything instead of thinking it.

  Lizzy chuckles. “You’re still thinking aloud. You always have, especially when you’re drunk. No sensor. That’s why I was shocked when you said you wanted to be a teacher. Boy, do they need to sensor. That’s not you.” She points her finger at me.

  I whisper, “Who’s gonna keep me outta trouble? I can’t be left to my own devices. I’m a danger to society.” I look toward the ocean kissing the shoreline.

  Instead of laughing at my joke, we both sit quietly and mope together. “I’m glad your aunt is letting us stay here. One last hurrah before acting like real adults,” I say, gazing at Lizzy.

  She pulls me up. “Let’s go pass out,” she says, smirking in my direction. I hang my head, knowing she’s right. I hate it. She knows it. This is why we are perfect for each other.

  She shakes her head. “You crack me up. Maybe I should’ve let that dorky guy in the horrible suit take you home. It woulda served you right. Night, hussy.” Lizzy heads inside to her bedroom.

  “Night, hun.” I sit on the steps for a few more minutes before heading to my room and passing out.

  The next morning starts our new routine with both of us on the back deck watching the morning runners jog up and down the beach. One of the many perks to Ginny’s beach house is that it’s literally right on the beach. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room showcase the waves slapping the beach. Every morning, we drink our coffees on the deck, looking for some eye candy to start our day. Even though Ginny pays us to house sit, we still have part-time jobs since neither of us can sit still for long. Plus, we both like to drink. Me more so than Lizzy, though she can take down a bottle of Jose Cuervo by herself.