Designed

By Alicia Renee Kline

Blake Snyder is an expert at bringing visions to life. Owner of a successful interior design business, she prides herself on creating things that are picture perfect. If only her talent extended to her personal life.

Chris Taylor is her brother’s best friend, but more importantly, her ex. After a messy breakup years ago, they’ve been careful to avoid each other.
But out of sight isn’t necessarily out of mind. Chris holds a special place for her in his heart - and a never presented engagement ring. Blake can’t stop thinking about him - despite her frequent attempts to replace him.

When events in the present lead Blake to confront the truth in her past, she knows that it’s time to come clean about what really drove them apart. What she reveals is something that brings him to his knees yet again.

Can Chris forgive her for a decade of secrets and omissions? Will their love for one another be strong enough to withstand the repercussions of a decision made long before? Or will the bombshell spell their ultimate demise?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alicia Renee Kline
• Release date: Jul 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310112539

Alicia Renee Kline

Alicia Renee Kline has been writing for as long as she can remember. Her work has evolved from scrawling story ideas in spiral notebooks in loopy, middle school handwriting (complete with scribbles) to more professional looking fare via her laptop. She is eternally grateful for the "delete" key, so that no one can tell that she doesn't get everything right the first time.She resides in Northeastern Indiana with her husband, two daughters, two cats and two hamsters. When she isn't being an author, she works full time in the insurance industry.

Book preview

Prologue

Good morning, gorgeous.

Lauren’s eyes fluttered open to the sound of Matthew’s voice, prompting her to awaken to a world infinitely better than anything that could be conjured up in a dream. Sunlight streamed through his bedroom window, its warm rays slicing through the chilly early morning air. She shivered and snuggled deeper into the down comforter, pulling it tight around her bare shoulders.

Oh no you don’t, Matthew growled huskily, pushing the bedspread back to its former position. In a quick move he rolled on top of her, carefully supporting the bulk of his weight so he hovered slightly above her.

She laughed as he covered her already swollen lips with kisses, trailing them down her neck as she trembled, this time not from the late November temperatures. As she reached for him, her eyes were drawn to the latest addition to her jewelry collection - a one carat diamond that sparkled like nothing she’d ever seen before, adorning her left ring finger in its perch of platinum and rose gold.

Caught you looking, he teased.

Lauren blushed even though Matthew didn’t seem bothered by the distraction in the least bit. It would take a while for her to get used to this reality, this fairy tale come true. Sure, the novelty would wear off and the idea of becoming his wife would slowly feel more like fact than fiction. The hundreds of irises that had littered his back patio yesterday would eventually wilt and need to be disposed of, but for now they’d been regrouped into bouquets that graced every room of his sprawling ranch.

Everywhere she looked was a reminder of his proposal, his declaration of love for her. Especially when she gazed into the pair of blue eyes that studied her now, drinking her in with reverence.

Lauren Marie Snyder, he whispered, trying her future name on for size. She found it to be music to her ears.

Matthew Elliott Snyder, she countered, smirking as he grimaced at the use of his hated middle name, if the engagement is going to be like this, I can’t wait to see the wedding.

Chapter One

I was lucky that I wasn’t the only one who didn’t like holidays. The whole family togetherness ship had sailed for me ages ago. About nine years to be exact. The night that my parents had unceremoniously kicked both my brother and me out of their sprawling contemporary home. In all actuality, it was really only me that had been tossed out on my ear that evening. Matthew was already gone, though the unspoken understanding was that he would never be allowed back again, either.

Nothing said Happy Holidays quite like being disowned.

So while most of America denounced the corporate greed that kept employees away from their families on Thanksgiving, I applauded the places that remained open on the fourth Thursday in November. Especially the hole in the wall bar that I’d gone to in order to pick up my latest companion.

I was pretty sure his name was Trent. Or Tim. Or Toby. The name he’d given me could have been fake; I wasn’t one to judge. After all, my name wasn’t Ashley like I’d told him. It didn’t matter anyway since we’d never see each other again.

I hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

His snoring woke me up. My eyes snapped open, my body instantly at attention. My eyes worked to adjust to the utter darkness. My mind struggled to clear the cobwebs that came with slumber. As I recounted exactly where I was and what I had been doing here, I peeled his fingers away from my bare breasts. He moaned softly but relinquished his grasp on my flesh and allowed me to climb out of his bed.

By now, I was able to distinguish the outline of his dresser, pressed severely against the wall opposite the mattress I’d just escaped from. His bedroom was a small space and if he’d wanted the piece of furniture any further from his queen sized bed, he’d have to put it in the other room.

The lack of square footage wasn’t doing anything to assist with me finding my clothing, however. The pitch blackness of the room was courtesy of the single window being draped with a heavy curtain that didn’t allow any outside light in. I dropped to my knees and felt around frantically with my hands, trying to push the reality of me being naked and crawling around on some guy’s carpeting to the furthest recesses of my mind.

I breathed a quiet sigh of relief as my fingers connected with the familiar fabric of my sweatshirt. My other items must be close. I pulled the garment over my head and hit the jackpot a few seconds later when I made contact with my underwear and jeans. I was more than a little disappointed that I couldn’t locate my bra, but supposed that was the price you paid for a last minute hookup. I certainly wasn’t going to wait around for morning just to retrieve a piece of lingerie. He could consider it a souvenir of our time together, a testament that it hadn’t just been a vivid dream.

Whatever. I needed to get the hell out of there.

As quietly as possible, I made my way into his living room to search for my purse and my shoes. This task was much easier as they were right by the door. I slid my bare feet into my tennis shoes, my socks also left behind in the mad dash for freedom. I grabbed my purse and opened the front door in one swift motion.

The hallway of the apartment complex greeted me, a welcome sight even though it smelled much like a mixture of mildew and marijuana. Nice place. I gently latched his door behind me and wrapped my arms about myself, hugging my purse a little tighter to my body as I passed quickly by a lanky guy with greasy hair – most likely the source of the aroma. He stood with his frame leaning against the peeling paint on the wall as if he couldn’t support the full weight of his body on his own accord.

Good evening, princess, he leered to my retreating figure.

Fuck off, I responded.

He replied with a laugh that sounded more than a little hysterical.

I was home free once I hit the lobby door and opened it to the outside. I practically ran to the safety of my Miata, parked just a few feet from the entrance to the complex. Even though it had been an unusually warm day for late fall in Indiana, the air now was decidedly crisp. I hadn’t thought to bring a jacket. Of course, I hadn’t exactly been in the best frame of mind when I’d left my house, either.

As much as I hated holidays in general, this Thanksgiving had been pretty good. I reminded myself that had absolutely nothing to do with what date the calendar had read and everything to do with what had happened. The events would have been just as special any other day of the year; their coming on Thanksgiving was just a matter of convenient scheduling.

My brother had gotten engaged, something that I wouldn’t ever have predicted a year ago. He’d met his match in Lauren, my ex-roommate, and after they’d created enough tumult in delaying the inevitable, they were finally going to make it official. The act itself had been in the planning stages for several weeks, what with me designing the perfect engagement ring and helping to map out the details of the proposal. The whole thing had gone perfectly; we laughed, we cried, everyone she cared about was there and she’d had no clue that it was coming. If my career in interior design ever got boring, I could always branch out into wedding planning.

That was me in a nutshell. I planned things for other people that were pulled off impeccably, all while my own existence crumbled around me.

For a moment I’d been able to live vicariously through Matthew. I’d been able to pretend that maybe my luck was about to change; that if he could finally find happiness, so could I. I adored Lauren even though I knew she doubted her role in my life and couldn’t imagine a better sister-in-law. Maybe the tides were turning and the Snyder siblings could actually have a happy ending.

My rosy outlook on life had been short-lived. I’d returned home high on life and love and the promise of creating a new family. My world had gone to hell in a handbasket mere minutes later.

I never should have answered the door. I hadn’t been expecting company; I’d just seen everyone I truly knew over at Matthew’s house. But when the doorbell rang it was a trained response to answer it. Considering that my brother and Lauren had keys to my place and they were the only ones who visited anyway, the sound of the chimes was an anomaly and I’d been anxious to investigate.

I’d quickly learned that I’d been wrong in my earlier assessment. Everyone that I truly knew had been over at Matthew’s for Thanksgiving dinner minus one. And the man in question had stood on my porch, his face as ashen as mine had felt.

As we’d stood and stared at each other, my heart had seized in my chest. He was every bit as handsome as I’d remembered and for a split second I’d been reduced to the high school sophomore I’d been when I’d first noticed him as anything other than my brother’s best friend. A large part of me had wanted to grab him by the arm and drag him inside, pretending that the last nine years had never happened. I’d wanted to hold him, to hear him out, to tell him the things he didn’t know.

Instead I’d barely let him get a word out, steeling my demeanor against his practiced script. I could tell by the way he’d stumbled over his thoughts that I still affected him. He would have accepted my invitation had it been given. For his efforts, I’d granted him the opportunity to speak a few sentences prior to slamming the door in his face. I’d not said a word, merely drinking him in and hoping I could remember this glimpse of him for the rest of my life.

I wondered if he’d heard my sobs as he’d retreated from my house.

Instinctively I’d fled, too, once I’d pulled myself together well enough to be presentable. And I’d ended up going home with yet another guy, the first one who’d caught my eye in a good way. It hadn’t taken long before we were kissing and having sex and I was imagining being with someone else entirely. The random guy hadn’t seemed to mind – they never did.

It was nearly three in the morning when I pulled the Miata into my garage. I slunk through my empty house in the darkness, not needing to turn on the lights to find my way to the bedroom. As was my routine after a one night stand, I headed straight for the shower, turning the faucet as hot as it would go. While I waited for the water to heat up, I tore off my clothing, throwing it into a pile on the floor.

I studied myself in the mirror. My features were a feminine representation of my brother’s; I wasn’t being arrogant when I complemented his beauty. I knew we shared the same eyes, the same coloring, but I couldn’t bear to call myself pretty. My outer packaging was appealing but inside I was ugly. Couldn’t the guys whose heads I turned see that reflected in my face?

I yanked the ponytail holder from my hair, letting my blond waves pool over my bare shoulders. The locks were messy now, tangled from my rebellion earlier. Most people assumed that I was a bottle blond but I wasn’t. The only dye to touch those strands was visible in the form of a blue streak about an inch wide that hung by my face, peeking out amidst the platinum. The color I’d chosen matched my eyes and it had been there for so long I couldn’t remember it not being a part of me.

The same was true of the tiny diamond stud that took up residence in my left nostril. I remembered a time when it had been a big deal to have a facial piercing let alone a crayon-inspired hair color and had thrived off of the shock value both had produced. They’d been the first modifications I’d made to myself after I’d been forced to move out of my childhood home. The tattoo had come later, but all were a way to denounce my formerly upper middle classness. Nowadays they were much more mainstream and no one seemed to give any of them a second thought. But I’d grown so used to them that it was like they’d always been there. I wasn’t about to let them go.

I’d let too many other things go.

I climbed in the shower, gasping at the scalding hot water. It didn’t take long for my skin to adjust to the temperature. I’d done this so many times before. I quickly washed myself, imagining all of the guilt and the regret sliding down the drain along with the suds. Once physically clean, I lowered myself to the floor of the stall and let the hot water beat down on me as I clutched my legs to my chest and rocked back and forth, sobbing.

Sometimes it was nice living alone. Like now, when I was able to have an emotional breakdown without anyone knowing any better. When Lauren had lived here, I’d done pretty good at covering them up, but she had witnessed a few of them. God love her, she always wanted to help.

But I didn’t need anyone to psychoanalyze me. I already knew the cold, hard truth.

I was way beyond the point of being helped.

Chapter Two

(Past Tense)

Chris Taylor had been a fixture at my parents’ house for as long as I could remember. His friendship with my brother had started practically the day they both entered middle school. A couple of the district’s elementary schools funneled into the same middle school and as a result, the two had met and had hit it off famously.

I’ll never forget the first time that Chris came over to our house. We lived in an upscale subdivision in a grand contemporary home at the end of a cul-de-sac on the main drag. His eyes had widened as soon as he’d stepped foot in the foyer, and I knew the place was like nothing he’d ever seen before. A veritable showpiece, my mother liked to say, with more than a hint of pride. That assessment showed even in a twelve year old boy’s eyes. Matthew had led him quickly into his bedroom, ushering him away from the opulence of the adult living quarters to a place that felt more comfortable for both of them.

I’d felt sorry for him then. Even at that age, I’d picked up on the fact that the older boy was clearly out of his element. I noticed the fear in those chocolate brown eyes, the hesitation to speak too loudly or touch the wrong thing lest it break. He regarded his friend’s home as a museum. I couldn’t blame him. I’d given him what I hoped was a supportive smile as he’d trailed behind my brother, but he paid me no attention.

Attention didn’t come until a few years later.

Admittedly, I was young for my grade. Though the calendar put three years’ time between the birth of my brother and me, in school we were only two years apart. This was due to the fact that I’d skipped the first grade, an event that made my father very proud and caused hate and consternation between him and Matthew. It’s not like I was a genius or anything; I’d just tested well and my father had been adamant with the principal that I’d be wasting my time in the lower grade. Considering that my father was an accomplished attorney, the argument had been easily won.

While typically the elder child paved the way for the younger, our roles had been flip-flopped. My father’s favorite saying to Matthew had become Why can’t you be more like your sister? I cringed each time I heard it, knowing how it pained Matthew. At such a young age, he’d been forced to live in my shadow, a spot he didn’t deserve to be in anyway.

So I’d been the youngest, most awkward girl in my class for quite some time. I was embarrassed of my father’s championing of my cause and acutely aware of how people gave me a wide berth. Children didn’t want to be my friend; teachers were afraid of pissing off my dad. After all, he was active in the community, always featured in the papers for being involved in one high profile case after another. He threw his local celebrity around as easily as his money and people resented that. People who included me.

Many times at night I’d lie awake in bed, wondering what it would be like to be normal like Chris. To live in a normal neighborhood, to have parents who had average jobs. I envied him, how he never seemed truly comfortable at my place, how he seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when it was time to go back to the real world.

I watched him from afar, silently observing the dynamic in the friendship he had with Matthew. Somehow the two of them had figured out how to be friends despite the class disparity. When Chris came over, it was to see my brother. It wasn’t to ogle the lavish surroundings or brag about the fact that he’d actually been inside the Snyder home, like the end result of the few visits from my classmates.

I didn’t stalk him or anything, so just holing up in my brother’s bedroom was off limits, but when they were in common areas of the house, I’d sit quietly in the corner and listen to them talk about guy things. Sports, mostly, but some random topics like video games and teachers. I’d stick my nose in a book and pretend that I wasn’t paying attention. Somewhere along the line, Chris caught on.

You know, he said out of the blue one night, if you’d be a little more outgoing you probably wouldn’t have to live vicariously through your brother.

Even though he’d clearly been addressing me, I still spun around to see who he was speaking to. He’d always been cordial to me, waving or saying hello or goodbye when he came over, but to strike up a conversation? This was uncharted territory.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I stammered uncomfortably. I felt my cheeks begin to redden, the tinge only intensifying as he laughed heartily at my response. His amusement continued as I looked over his shoulder, praying that Matthew would come around the corner and rescue me.

Once he’d had enough of torturing me he expanded upon his statement. What I mean, he said slowly, as if I wouldn’t be able to comprehend his explanation without distinct enunciation, is that Matthew doesn’t have to be the one to have all the popularity. You’re not exactly helping your own cause.

I winced at the truthfulness in his words. Sure, he was over here all of the time, but was it really so obvious that he would notice and take pity on me? As we’d all grown older, Matthew and Chris had moved on to become football players, the stereotypical jocks that walked the halls of our high school like they owned the place. If they’d declared that much, people likely wouldn’t have set them straight. And there I was, stuck in a rut as the social outcast.

And what do you suggest I do about that? I asked the floor, staring at the toe of my sock. After all, we couldn’t wear shoes in the house and I wasn’t brave enough to look at him.

Have you ever thought about becoming a cheerleader?

I choked, another reaction that solicited a chuckle from my brother’s best friend. No, I answered honestly.

Well, I think you’d be perfect at it, he proclaimed.

I snorted. Yeah, right.

What if I could help you?

How? Is there something you’re not telling me?

Again with the laughter. No, not me personally. But what if I could get you to someone who could?

Why would you do that for me? I asked skeptically.

Because I like you, Blake.

My head snapped up involuntarily to meet his eyes. Much to my surprise, he looked sincere. I waited for the punch line, for him to smirk and tell me that he was only kidding. But that never came.

What did happen was that somehow he arranged for the current head cheerleader of the varsity squad to become my mentor. The summer between freshman and sophomore year, she and I worked on fundamentals and routines and when tryouts were held in the fall, I’d signed up, feeling more than a little confident that I would make the JV squad. Turns out that whatever Chris had seen in me was true, or that I’d worked my tail off to impress him and therefore not make a fool out of myself. Whatever the case, the end result was the same.

And as for him liking me, well, that also worked out in my favor. I’d so not wanted to read too much into his comment that day, but a big part of me had been excited by what he’d said. Not only did my popularity increase significantly because of his little plan, I also found myself the recipient of my first kiss.

It had come unexpectedly the day the cheerleading roster had been posted in the hallway outside the athletic department. As was tradition, a crowd of hopefuls and just plain interested students with no real ties to football or cheerleading had gathered around, eagerly drinking in the names written on the paper. Me being me, I’d waited patiently behind everyone else, not wanting to push my way to the front. Of course, Chris had been anticipating this and had swooped in out of nowhere to assist.

He grabbed my hand in his and drug me to his side. To his credit, he was polite enough to excuse the both of us as he pushed our way through the onslaught. It really wasn’t much of a struggle; when one of the senior players on the football team asked for underclassmen to move, it was pretty much a given that he’d get his way. Just as we’d reached the head of the line, he’d let go of my hand and placed both of his over my face to cover my eyes.

What are you doing? I asked impatiently.

He laughed again, a sound that would haunt me years later and bring tears to my eyes at its mere memory.

I want to make sure that you remember this moment for the rest of your life. Are you ready for it?

I nodded, just wanting to get on with the show. Even though his crash course in cheerleading had helped with my shyness issues, I was still very aware that he was creating a scene. The sooner whatever this was was over, the sooner I could go back to not being the center of attention.

He counted down from three and then I felt him remove his fingers from my face. Congratulations, Blake.

I stared at the list in front of me. My name was nowhere to be found on the roster of junior varsity cheerleaders. My vision blurred with sadness and resentment. It had been nothing but a trick. I’d trusted him to do something nice for me, and I’d fallen right for his ploy to make me the laughingstock of the school.

I didn’t make it, I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. Had his cheerleader friend been in on everything as well? Had she offered me false words of encouragement only to laugh about it behind my back later?

Blake, he said urgently, bringing me back to reality, you’re looking at the wrong list. You didn’t make the JV squad because you made varsity. To prove his point, he grabbed my long blond ponytail and playfully yanked my head in the direction of the correct list. Sure enough, that one contained my name.

My emotions did a complete one-eighty and I spun around and hugged him. Realizing that I’d overstepped my boundaries, I moved to pull away from him. But he didn’t let me go. Instead, his grip on me tightened and he bent down to whisper something into my ear.

I knew you could do it, was what he said.

My world stood frozen in time as I felt the heat of his breath on my neck. His lips brushed against my cheek as he lifted my chin with his thumb and grazed my mouth with his own. The kiss was brief since we were still in the school building, but the impact it had on me was huge.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

Chapter Three

He came over last night, I announced upon entry of my brother’s home. As usual, I’d let myself in and roamed around the space until I’d found where he was located. Today, he hadn’t been too hard to track down, what with the smell of bacon wafting in from the kitchen and the sound of laughter in the other room. Clues digested, I made a beeline for Matthew, barely able to contain myself.

There was no need for me to explain who the he in question was; it was written all over my face. Besides, Matthew knew there was only one he in my book.

Did you know? I asked him, plunking my purse down on the concrete island.

If I hadn’t have been so distraught, I likely would have been embarrassed for interrupting the intimate moment that I had. Lauren was cooking them breakfast - pancakes and bacon from the looks of it. Matthew was pretending to help, which amounted to little more than him stirring the batter and watching. They’d not even been engaged for twenty-four hours and here I was crashing their morning routine. At least they had clothes on.

Matthew’s expression immediately sobered upon meeting my gaze. Lauren turned from her position at the range and silently grabbed a third plate from the cabinet. Community meals were not uncommon for the three of us; more often than not, we ate at least a few times a week together. Usually that was dinner, but I was starting early.

No, I haven’t talked to him for a couple days, Matthew told me, shaking his head for emphasis. Must have been a spur of the moment thing.

I knew Matthew wasn’t lying. He didn’t have to do much to convince me. The last few days had been a flourish of activity leading up to his Thanksgiving proposal to Lauren. I’d been involved in most of the planning, so I’d known the answer to the question before asking. I’d just wanted to hear it for myself. And just maybe I’d wanted to prove myself wrong. Perhaps I was looking for confirmation that Chris had poured his heart out to my brother during a late night gossip fest. But guys didn’t do that sort of thing, did they?

So how did it go? he asked when I didn’t offer any further details.

I responded with a sigh that quite possibly originated from somewhere deep in the ground beneath my feet. Dramatically, I lowered my head onto the countertop, covering it with my hands. My fingers grabbed fistfuls of platinum blond strands, just this side of pulling out my own hair.

That good? Matthew cracked with a snort.

Shut up, dork, I muttered into my arms.

When I heard Lauren slide a plate of food across the counter in my general direction, I lifted my head. She, too, was staring at me, her hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. Or maybe they just hadn’t been sufficiently depleted of the look of love. It was obvious she was walking on cloud nine whereas I was somewhere much, much lower and closer to the center of the Earth.

So he finally did a ninja intervention? she asked innocently. If I wouldn’t have been paying as close of attention as I was, I would have missed the fact that she clearly bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Almost a year to the day she had sat on my couch and proclaimed that Chris and I sitting down and talking would be the best thing for us. At that time, I’d vehemently disagreed. Hell, I still disagreed now. Nine years was a long time to hide from one another, but somehow we had managed. Somehow I had kept a lid on most of the memories that we’d shared together, both good and bad. Then one brief encounter had caused everything to explode to the forefront yet again. This was therapeutic how?

Thankful for a prop to toy with, I grabbed my fork and began cutting my pancakes into bite-sized pieces. The two of them waited patiently for me as I worked in silence, delaying the inevitable. I felt their eyes on me the entire time. When there was no more breakfast to render into tiny portions, I spoke to the plate instead of them.

He attempted, but I wouldn’t have any of it, I admitted.

Blake, Lauren admonished, slamming down her own fork in frustration.

What?

I really didn’t get why Lauren was so invested in Chris and me patching things up. There was no love lost between the two of them. Considering my brother’s less than desirable past when it came to the dating scene - among other things - Chris had been more than a little leery of Matthew’s infatuation with my ex-roommate. Part of that reaction had been warranted due to the fact that Lauren had already been involved in a serious relationship when she moved