Her Him and I

By JG Foster

Events manager Arabelle Rose has it all: A great career and handsome and suave partner of ten years, Paul Profit. But her world is about to crumble when she takes the wrong suitcase home from Logan's package carousel.
After returning the luggage to the rightful owner, Lea Evergreen, Arabelle discovers that Paul has been cheating on her with Lea.

Arabelle convinces Lea to fool Paul the same way he did with them.
Her Him & I is a romantic comedy novella. The quick, fun, light read contains themes of infidelity, falling in love, a love triangle, friendship, and trust in yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: JG Foster
• Release date: Jun 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781736580677

JG Foster

Just in case you haven’t noticed already: My name is Julia, aka JG Foster. I am the author of a pile of half-finished notebooks, countless stories - in my daydreams, ten deleted book drafts, two finished screenplays, and one published novel.That is why I am so glad you are checking out Jessie Grean. But I have to warn you. Despite being a contemporary young adult novel, Jessie Grean contains a Trigger Warning before the story starts.I am happy for you to browse along to discover other excellent published books. Perhaps my next one is more suit for you. Say What Now? will be my second published book, hopefully bringing out giggles in you on one page or another. I was ready for a light and fun book which depicts a humourous way of life when you move abroad.Suppose you haven’t guessed already. I am from Germany but have lived in Boston for the past ten years with a detour via the UK and Australia.Please don’t ask me about soccer or other sports if you meet me. I know zilch.But I am happy to talk about books, films/movies, and learn about your hobbies and interests.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The Beginning of the End

Paul. You look horrendous. Paul Proffit sat on the empty chair opposite his best friend, David Booster. Pale skin, saggy bags under his eyes, beard stubble, and uncombed hair promised a sad story to come out of Paul's mouth. What happened? Or did you have one or two glasses too many yesterday? David pressed.

Despite the lunch hour, Paul ordered himself a half-pint and returned his drooping eyelids to one of his oldest friends. Usually, Paul, David’s former college roommate, displayed his outside attire like a freshly hedged chick—every strand placed where it should be, chin shaved, eyebrows shaped, and lips a second away from an inviting smirk. Yet, at this moment, an aged man replaced a vibrant young one.

David sipped on his water, waiting, contemplating what to say next.

What time is it? Paul yawned.

One p.m.

Shit. I have a meeting at two.

Perhaps you can cancel or move it?

Maybe, but it's about a credit from the bank.

I thought you sealed that deal already. I can help you get ready? David offered.

Maybe, but… I don’t think… Paul's words hung in the air.

Just try moving the meeting. Go home! David pushed.

Why should I go home? There's nobody.

Taken aback by Paul's last comment, David opened his mouth but quickly pressed his lips back together again. Paul lived alone, despite having a partner for the past ten years.

A lightbulb in David’s head enlightened his thoughts. Did Arabelle break up with you?

Paul's head lifted slightly, but his eyes remained on the table. She, too.

Chapter 2

Welcome home

Sorry, Arabelle! I won't make it. Michael will be staying with me for a while.

Arabelle put her phone away and mouthed, But you promised me. Another passenger waiting for his luggage turned to Arabelle, who shrugged.

Instead of responding to the message, she pulled a turquoise tin out of her brown leather duffel bag, which hung around her shoulder. She opened the mint box, her long red fingernails fishing out a pink one. Just Breathe! spelled out the imprint on the heart-shaped candy. Arabelle closed her eyes and gulped down her disappointment.

Her thoughts trailed off to the words she had just read. Besides having known Paul for ages, she'd never met Michael, Paul's half-brother, which was also supported by the fact that Michael lived with his wife in Seattle.

Paul's mother held a grudge against Paul’s father, which extended to all of his children. On the other hand, Arabelle frequently talked to her sisters, and Paul knew both of them and saw Mirabelle fairly often, as her apartment was just around the corner from Arabelle.

Perhaps, finally, she would meet Michael in person. Instead of proposing this idea in a text to Paul, Arabelle gazed around and noticed a coffee vendor just before a yawn escaped her throat. Attracted by the smell and a promise to jumpstart the day after her red-eye flight from DC, Arabelle approached the hot beverage server.

Inhaling the steam from her cup, Arabelle rejoined the ever-growing crowd of travelers. The luggage carousel slinked in its tracks. The moving metal snake burst with the belongings of travelers. Despite the repetitiveness of black suitcases, Arabelle spotted hers thanks to a little trick she learned from her youngest sister, Isabelle, who traveled the world as a nurse.

To Arabelle's surprise, another hand reached for her luggage before she arrived at the moving suitcases. After a second of sorting her thoughts, Arabelle squeezed through the people pressing towards the carousel.

Excuse me, excuse me! Arabelle yelled after the person who had just taken her belongings. A woman in a long skirt with lilac-flower prints, a white pirate-like blouse, and ten oversized bead necklaces whirled around. Excuse me, I think you took my luggage, Arabelle repeated.

She pressed herself through, stumbled forward, and the freshly brewed coffee flew onto the other woman's pearl-white top. Both women gasped at the growing brown wet spot.

I am so sorry, Arabelle stammered as she pulled a napkin out of her purse. The drenched woman lifted her top to have the wet fabric hover over her skin without exposing herself in the middle of the crowd. Reddened, Arabelle attempted to wipe away the mess she had created. How can I make it up to you?

That's okay, I guess. It's washable.

Well, I am very sorry. I can give you a top to put on.

No need. I already have my things. The woman shrugged at the luggage in her hand.

Well, I can lend you something, Arabelle repeated.

But— began the other woman.

I am sorry, but this is mine. Arabelle reached for the handle. I put this yellow gift-wrapping string on the seam. Arabelle pointed to the edge of the rolling suitcase.

Wide-eyed, the woman in front of her gasped. I am very sorry.

Arabelle kneeled, unzipped the cover, and pulled a satin, purple button-down blouse out of the stack of clothes. This color clashes with your skirt, but it's dry, she said as she held out her peace offering.

Thanks. I’m not sure what to say. But I am sorry. Perhaps I can make it up to you with lunch or dinner? the young woman proposed with a smile.

That sounds like a great idea, agreed Arabelle.

I’m Lea.

I’m Arabelle. Here’s my card. Text or email me, so we can get together.

Thanks, I'll do that.

Good luck with your luggage. Arabelle collected her belongings and walked towards the exit.

Thanks, Lea said as she turned to find her luggage.

As Arabelle strutted toward the exit, her phone rang. Hi, Yvette. How are you?

I’m great. How was the wedding? Yvette inquired.

Very nice. It gave me some ideas for mine if Paul ever asks me.

Why don't you ask him?

I’m not sure. As long as Paul is not ready, he won't ask me. That means if I ask him, he might feel pressured into doing something and turn me down.

That's ridiculous. You guys have not only been together for years, but I bet you knew within the first year of being together that Paul is the guy you want to marry.

Well, anyway. How have you been?

I actually wanted to talk with you about something. Can we meet up for lunch? My calendar is open between nine and three Monday to Friday.

Arabelle guided herself to a bus stop with the display announcing the arrival of the Silver Line.

I’m not sure yet. I have a big meeting tomorrow, hopefully with the announcement of my promotion. Let's meet for dinner, though.

Chapter 3

Lea

What a nice morning, Lea thought to herself as the sun peeked through her blinds, and soft white light spread into the bedroom. She turned to caress the back of her partner, who had just checked the time on his phone.

What a shame that we have to get up already. I wish it was the weekend again. Lea scooched closer.

Her boyfriend wrapped Lea into his arms as he received another warning signal from his phone, propelling him to get up. Lea gazed after him. His toned physique showcased his athleticism, which she couldn’t hold but nonetheless noticed the first time they met.

As she collected seashells after a craft fair on the South Shore, Lea watched surfers chilling on their boards ‘til the next waves rolled in on a warm January day. The air was clear, the sun bright, the temperature leveled out just above 30 degrees, and a dozen or so people sat, paddled, or surfed on the white-capped water.

Lea leaned back on a wind-protected dune, bundled up in her winter coat, soaking up the sun on her face. Closing her eyes, she listened as the waves crashed on the beach, sand dancing in the wind, seagulls flapping around.

Startled by a new sound, Lea blinked to adjust her eyes to the brightness of the sun. Her cheeks turned red as her eyes deciphered the scene a couple feet from her. A man peeled himself out of a dripping wetsuit, seemingly thinking that he was alone. Lea's eyes took in the shapes his muscles made. She hadn't seen a naked man in a long time, much less a man who had put a lot of work into his physic drying himself in front of her. Her cheeks burned, her heart pounded, and a soft Excuse me, fluttered out of her lips.

He turned around, covering his private parts with his right hand while fumbling with the towel in his left, which caused him to lose his balance and fall into the sand.

Lea turned around, realizing how rude her staring was. But she couldn't help it. This man had a lot to show.

"I’m sorry. I’m very