Bride in Bloom

By J.B. Hartnett

For Victoria, it started with the perfect dress and the perfect man...well, she thought he was perfect.

For Cameron, it started with a devoted wife and a bright future...until he discovered devotion was never high on his wife's list of marital duties.

When trust is tested and faith in the power of true love is lost, there is only way one to restore it:

Give that person everything you’ve got, nurture her, love her...

And watch her bloom. *This book contains mature content for an audience of 18 years or older. Sexual scenes M/M and M/F

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.B. Hartnett
• Release date: Mar 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310161131

J.B. Hartnett

A Southern California native, Julie is a fan of a really good story, really good pie and really good coffee. She lives with her husband and two boys in Melbourne, Australia.

Book preview

Cameron

Cameron, honey …

My mom called me Ron, Cam, Cameroonie, Camachameleon … but she only called me Cameron when she was doling out the motherly love.

Please, go home, Mom. I’d been sitting in our house for three days. I hadn’t eaten, I’d barely slept, and I’d subsisted on mostly beer.

Honey, I wouldn’t be doing my job as a mom if I left you like this. I don’t care what it is, but you’ve got to eat something. I’m gonna order a pizza and whatever else they have on the menu. She paused in thought, then said, I’ll leave when you take five bites of something.

I’m not five years old, Mom. I took another sip of warm beer, warm because I couldn’t be bothered putting them in the fridge.

She took the bottle from my lips and then proceeded to pry it from my hand. And I’m not about to bury my baby boy because he gave himself alcohol poisoning. She was a great mom, a patient mom, but her tone warned she was losing that patience.

As she checked the kitchen drawer for take-out menus, I opened another beer and smiled at her back. It gave me an infinitesimal amount of pleasure to annoy her and got my mind off of everything. I also wanted to remain in my current state of semi-sedation as long as possible.

She ordered what sounded like one of everything on the menu, then came back into the living room to lean against the doorjamb.

Cameron, she said gently, do you want to talk about it?

I was thirty-five years old. The days of talking to my mom about girl problems had come and gone about the same time I was required to eat five bites of food to leave the table. No, I said firmly.

She moved to sit in the chair next to mine. Her chair. Honey, if you just—

Mom, if I start to talk, I have to feel it. If I feel it, it’s gonna fuckin’ kill me. She stood and walked back to the kitchen then returned with a box of garbage bags.

What are you doing?

Well, son, I’m going to go into your bedroom and open every drawer, every closet, and every cupboard. I’m going to clean it from top to bottom. I’m even going to move furniture.

I don’t think that’s such a good idea, I warned.

Why? Because I might find your sex toys and lubricants? she casually asked.

I didn’t want to be the one to say it. I laughed. Felt great.

I have two sons and those sons are their father through and through. I doubt you have anything in there I either haven’t seen before or don’t own myself.

I stared at her. Please. Stop talking.

She continued with her plan of action. Then, I’m cleaning your bathroom and I will do this throughout the entirety of your house.

Mom … I adjusted my numb ass in the chair and turned my body toward her. You really don’t have to do that. I promise I’ll eat, okay? I appreciate everything, but really, it’s okay.

No, she said quietly and shook her head. It’s never going to be okay, honey.

I could hear her voice shake and began to get up, Stay there, Cameron. If you try to stand, you’ll probably fall and crack your head open which only makes my cleaning job bigger.

Mom—

And if you come near me right now, I’m going to start crying and … She took a deep breath and gathered her strength before continuing. Right now I want to erase every single thing that belonged to that lying, conniving, manipulating whore of a girl that weaseled her way into our hearts. Then I’m going to build a fire on your front lawn and invite her over to dance in it!

Mom, I chuckled. Take it easy.

I need to clean, she stated, the words coming out on another shaky breath, but I’m going to say this.

Say whatever you need to say.

You’re going to find another girl, honey.

If you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly ready to hit the bar scene, Mom.

Let me finish. She glared.

I nodded. By all means.

You’ll know, Cameron. You’ll know because even with everything you’ve been through, you’ll take one look at her and be willing to take that chance. She’ll be a princess and she won’t even know it.

I grinned at her. Dream big, Mom.

I’m cleaning now. Take the cash from my wallet to pay the delivery man, she commanded.

She cleaned until three the next morning, only stopping to eat. When she was done, there were three garbage bags next to the front door. Dad’s coming to get me in a bit. I made up the second bedroom for you. It’s bigger anyway. Go on now. I’ll lock up.

I really was exhausted. I’d stopped drinking after the first slice of pizza because my body wasn’t sure if it should digest the food or expel it. Since then, I’d been trying to focus on whatever was on TV, but the same scene was playing over and over in my mind.

Thanks, Mom, I stood and kissed her cheek. I love you.

She squeezed and patted my arm. Dream of a beautiful fairy princess, she said with a tired smile.

Yeah, I’ll work on that.

I slept like a fucking rock in the other bedroom, and the best part was nothing smelled like her. I woke to a low murmur of voices and fresh coffee brewing. When I finally made my way into the living room, dressed in only my robe and boxers, my entire family was there.

You’ve all been busy. By the look of things, my mother had spent a shitload of money. You didn’t have to do that, I said, motioning toward the bags.

Honey, you know I did. She smiled and sipped her coffee.

What time is it? I asked.

Three. Dad smirked. I like the beard. You gonna keep it?

She hated it.

So, that’s a yes? He grinned and I nodded.

Hey, fuckhead, my big brother said. Wanna go to Tijuana and eat tacos made from dog meat? And then we could get a couple of hookers and—

Drew, my mother warned.

She’s right. Vegas is better, I added dryly, just to annoy her.

You done? Dad asked, his previous amused expression unchanged.

When my brother was finished lightening the mood—because that was actually his plan—my uncle pushed a folder toward me while Mom handed me a cup of coffee.

I’ll have those delivered to Amanda this afternoon. They’ll be notarized, double-checked, and I’ll personally offer her a pen I’ll shove up my ass first. Oh, I’ll give it a wipe, but I’ll know when she holds it in her hand, my ass juice will be all over that thing.

God couldn’t have given me a girl to break up all the testosterone and fart jokes? Mom asked my ceiling. I was just about to open the folder when she interrupted with the question, Who bought that robe?

I shot her a look I knew would explain exactly who bought the robe. She set her coffee down, went to one of the bags on the floor and pulled out a brand new, chocolate brown bathrobe. Put that on, she said, tossing it at me and causing the coffee to splash from my cup.

Mom— I began to protest, mostly because I was comfortable and only wearing boxers underneath.

What’s the problem? It’s bamboo, she stated like that made everything okay.

Well—

She took the cup from my hand and forcibly removed the current robe.

Shouldn’t have questioned her, man, my brother said with a smug grin.

Fuck off. I grinned back, actually glad they were all there.

I hope you like that one because my only other options were cute little lions and penguins. And who bought the stripper underwear? she demanded, eyeing me up and down.

Paula, my dad said, trying to stifle a chuckle, give him some dignity, sweetie.

If it makes you feel better, Mom, I was planning on buying all new boxers. I smiled. The kind where my balls can hang freely.

She ignored my comment and announced, We should have a barbecue.

I finally sat down, the fragrance of department-store-new competing with my coffee, and began to read the fine print. Divorce. Fuck me.

Paula? Dad called out. Excuse me, will ya? he said to us and left the room to follow Mom out the back door.

I better help him, Drew said and followed behind Dad.

Thanks, Uncle Theo, I said. Thanks for doing it quick.

He reached his arm out and let it rest on my shoulder with a reassuring grip. I’ve seen women pull some fucked up crap. I don’t know if it’s because you’re my nephew or this is just one of the worst—maybe a combination of both—but it’s still fucked up.

Yeah, I agreed as I began to sign.

I closed the folder and laid my hand on top, almost choking on a sob that had been sitting in my gut for the last few days.

Dad appeared. Well, Cameron, your balls can hang freely today.

They can?

Your mom shoved your robe and all your underwear into the barbecue, doused it with lighter fluid and almost took off my eyebrows with the fucking bonfire she’s got going out there.

Well … I took my hand from the folder and looked at my dad, my brother, and my uncle. Shouldn’t waste a perfectly good barbecue, I suppose. We better go buy some steaks.

Victoria

You have got to be kidding me.

This was the statement made by my mother, Joan, to my future mother-in-law, Penny.

Is that the one you want, Tori? Penny asked.

It wasn’t just the one I wanted. It was the one. I’d heard of girls who’d walk into a bridal shop, try on thirty dresses and never find the one. I’d also heard of women who walked in, pointed and said, Yep, that’s it. That’s the one. I had no desire to try on anything else. This was the dress. I’d seen it on display in the window of the Beachy Bride, a local shop that sold made-to-measure creations. I’d experienced love at first sight with a garment, but my mother was about to make it ugly with her words.

Deirdre—or Dee as she preferred to be called—had given us a few minutes to get settled while she made everyone something to drink.

I chose coffee.

My mother and Penny chose champagne. While I absently looked at the other dresses on the racks to appease my mother, Deirdre covertly asked if there was anything she could get for me.

Valium, gloves, and a loaded pistol, I answered, never making eye contact and just letting the beautiful dresses flit by since I’d picked mine out.

Gloves? Dee inquired. Apparently the other two requests had obvious explanations.

So they can’t print the murder weapon, I replied like I was a professional hit-man or hit-woman or whatever they’re called. And gun powder residue.

Want me to spike your coffee with Frangelico or something?

I liked Dee.

I especially liked the fact that the entire time we’d had this quiet exchange, she made comments loud enough for everyone to hear. The last one being, Oh, this one would really capture the highlights in your hair.

They’re fake! my mother yelled out.

Bitch.

I pretended to look at accessories in a large, antique glass cabinet filled with veils, embroidered headbands and these little cuffs of satin or lace that went around the stems of your bridal bouquet. It was the ultimate accessory as far as I was concerned.

While my mother and Penny flipped through an album on the coffee table, I stood with my thoughts in my own little cone of silence and shut away the world until Dee arrived at my side. Here, she handed me a glass of champagne instead of coffee. I think I drank all the Frangelico, but I will happily take you out for a cocktail or five when this is over. I gave her a small, pleading smile and took a sip from the glass. What size are you? Her dresses tend to be on the generous side.

I’m a ten. But the stress of this shopping venture is burning calories faster than I can drink them.

The dress in the window is an eight, which means it’s more like a ten. Lark said some brides don’t want to look like all the rest. They want a splash of color.

My mother’s presence loomed behind me. Give us a minute, she rudely said to Dee.

Of course. She flashed her a fake, bright smile and gave me bug eyes, making me giggle as she walked away.

I don’t think your attitude is cute, my mother commented.

I narrowed my eyes at her. Doesn’t the Dark Lord need you for some kind of errand? Turning kids to liquor and drugs perhaps? Or was I your only assignment for today?

You’re so much like your father, she hissed.

I let out a heavy sigh. You needed something?

She looked at the pretty dress which reminded me of a flower as it bloomed: the darker hue at the bottom of the petals, painting the edges with vibrant color and exploding into its full beauty.

Victoria … God, I hated how she said my name, Don’t get that dress.

Why, because it’s not virgin-white and I’m, you know, not?

She looked down at her feet, put her hands on her hips and then looked back at me. My mother was beautiful; if she weren’t such a bitch, she’d be even more so. I got my looks from my dad, whom she hated, which was probably one of the reasons she didn’t like me very much either.

In answer to my question, she responded, Because it shouldn’t be about the dress. It should be about the man you’re spending your life with. The dress isn’t mentioned in your vows. It’s in sickness and in health, not in tulle and silk.

I was prepared to defend my future bridal gown. Mother, I’m—

Because, she pleaded, when your marriage faces tough times—and it will—I want you to remember how wonderful that day was. Not because you had a great dress, but because you had a great husband. I think about my wedding day, Victoria, and the only good thing I can remember is the dress I wore. The rest of it doesn’t matter anymore.

I could see she was on the verge of tears. When Dad’s infidelity came out and then through the subsequent divorce, she cried all the time. But after a while, the tears became bitter and I hadn’t seen her emotional since.

Get something you like, but don’t love. Anything, just not that dress. She squeezed my free hand and started to walk away. But don’t wear your hair back, she added loudly enough for everyone to hear. Your ears are too big. You look like that actress who married that actor and they have that child who’s named after a flower or some nonsense.

So! Find anything you like? Dee, my peppy bridal shop cheerleader asked, clapping her hands together.

Bring me five dresses you think will suit me and we’ll take a vote. I pulled her close to me and whispered, About tonight … if you’re free, vodka.

She grinned at me as I clarified, Tons.

Cameron

My uncle said he would make sure the divorce was done as quickly as possible. He also mentioned, unfortunately, there was no way for it to go faster than six months since that was the state law. I knew my mother was working out the six months in her head so she could throw a party or take the family out to celebrate. As much as I appreciated her support and was happy she could find a silver lining, I had to go back to work.

I’d called in sick maybe three or four times in my life, and all of them were because I’d actually been sick. I’d go in drunk if I had to, but I’d never been that stupid. Hungover, yeah, but never drunk. I was fucked up, but I also needed a distraction. I couldn’t change anything that had happened; therefore, it was time to lose myself in building a house.

Tuesday morning, I met Joshua Mercer and Rick Parsons at the site. The two men were great employers. Rick was an excellent architect, but swear to fucking God, his designs appealed to a certain clientele, and that was not me. I had a job to do so I did it, but the thing that killed me the most about these modern boxes was the wasted talent of my boss. A few years back, he’d taken on older houses that caught his eye. Actually, it was Josh who sourced them, and together they’d breathed new life into a classic. Knowing I had a background in carpentry and joinery, Josh had hired me as their foreman.

Now, it was about money and building up the business. Josh had secured something in Santa Barbara, and the timing of their new venture was almost too perfect. When they’d asked if I’d be interested in running the project up there, I’d wanted to jump at the chance and get the fuck away from here. Even with Mom’s efforts, it didn’t erase the fact I’d spent five years with the same woman in the same house.

But I was fucking stupid.

See, I’d bought a beautiful house. My dad made and restored furniture; he was a craftsman and a carpenter and taught me everything he knew. I got my building license and I worked hard. But I wanted the house I bought for my family to be a home. I wanted the fact I was now a carpenter and craftsman to be reflected in that home. It had a great garden, a great deck, original hardwood floors … I’d spent every extra hour transforming our house into something Amanda would love. And she was involved, every step of the way, guiding me to her specifications.

Another reason I was fucking stupid because her touch was on everything.

Within minutes of being on the site, I was hit with the memory of the first time I saw Victoria Harper smile. She and Josh had been dating for a while, so marriage was the natural progression of things. One afternoon, he brought her to see the view from the bones of the house. Even though they were building a cement box with floor to ceiling windows, the view almost made it worthwhile. The Pacific Ocean was so close, when the sun began to set and the light on the horizon was just right, it looked like you could reach out your hand and touch it.

Another memory of that day that always stood out was Rick being pissed about something. It was the first time I’d ever seen him walk off a job in anger. From that day on, the day Josh brought Victoria to the site, his features were set in a permanent scowl. Josh and Victoria stood there alone. I didn’t look away as he asked the question I couldn’t hear, but I knew exactly what he’d said. She smiled that great fuckin’ smile and nodded her answer as a ring was slipped onto her finger.

Now, standing there, remembering the day he’d proposed, I knew the difference between what I had with Amanda and what Joshua Mercer had with Victoria and that’s what I fucking wanted. It wasn’t about a woman being beautiful, Amanda was beautiful. Victoria was different, she was gorgeous inside as well and I knew it wasn’t just me thinking about her. As work on the house progressed and her visits included bringing beer or cupcakes for the crew, it was pretty clear all the guys were gonna fuck their wives and girlfriends while thinking of her. Not because their women weren’t good and beautiful themselves, but there was something about Victoria. She had a fire that made you want to bait her so you could experience that passion first hand, and a vulnerability that made you want to wrap her in your arms and protect her from the big, bad world.

And fuck her senseless at the same time.

Now I