Read Online Books/Novels:
Love is a Beach (Bayside #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:
The day Darcy learned the news of her husband’s remission she expected a celebration, or at least a nice piece of cake. Instead, she was served with divorce papers. Oh, and the knowledge they were bankrupt.
With her twenty year union over and two children to support on her own, she moved in with her eccentric grandmother, hoping to find peace and quiet in the seaside town of Hampton.
What she wasn’t expecting to find was a set of saggy old man balls upon arrival.
Needing to bleach her eyes, calm her screaming teen daughter and stop her eight year old son from filming the chaos to upload, Darcy was already reconsidering the sanity in her decision. Turned out, Nana was quite the player in the retirement circle.
She also fancied herself a bit of a match maker.
Deciding local football legend, Leo Murphy would provide the ultimate distraction for Darcy, Nana enlisted the help of her trouble-loving great-grandson with somewhat disastrous results. Leo didn’t even know what hit him. Literally.
With a great smile and a body to die for, it wasn’t hard to convince Darcy to give Leo a chance. It also helped that he had a lot of patience for one particularly rambunctious young boy and couldn’t run too fast on his busted knee—a captive audience was easily swayed, after all.
But with a teenager in the midst of a meltdown, a heart cracked and bruised, and a son who wouldn’t stop acting up, even a chance could prove too much for Darcy and not enough for Leo, who wasn’t the kind of man who gave up easily.
|Books in Series:|
|Books by Author:|
“It’s great news for the Field family, Kevin. You’re in remission.” The doctor smiles brightly as Kevin’s mouth falls open.
My hand flies to my mouth as I gasp, my entire body flooding with relief-filled endorphins. “Thank God!”
“Wow.” Kevin shakes his head, shock evident on his pale face. Remission is the word we’ve been hoping for during the months of radiation therapy. Now it’s here. The fight was worth it, and my husband will live. He’ll live, and our children get to grow up with their dad healthy and alive. Thank. God.
Eight months we’ve fought this, with Kevin undergoing treatment for testicular cancer while I tried to hold everything together on the home front, maintaining normalcy as much as I could. We haven’t told a soul about his diagnosis—not even our kids—preferring to fight this quietly for the sake of everyone’s sanity. Kevin hadn’t wanted anyone treating him differently, and we’d both agreed that worrying the kids was unnecessary. The knowledge would have sent our teenage daughter into a hormonal woe-filled tailspin, and our eight-year-old would have wanted to film the entire process for his YouTube channel as a ‘Try Not to Cry’ video. Let’s not go into the drama either of our parents would have caused. No. It was best we kept this to ourselves, especially since Kevin is cured now and everything will be OK.
We’re going to be OK.
This may be the understatement of the year, but I don’t think I realised what toll this process has taken on me personally. I’ve been so busy making sure Kevin was comfortable and the kids were looked after that I haven’t stopped and thought about myself—how frayed my nerves have become, how tired and tense my body is. Suddenly, I can breathe again, the weight I’ve carried on my shoulders is finally gone. I have my husband back. I’m not fighting alone anymore.
Tears fill my eyes as I reach across the ruler width of space between our chairs and touch Kevin’s arm. “Remission,” I whisper, smiling so hard it hurts my cheeks.
Kevin blinks. “Wow.”
As we leave the hospital, excitement bubbles out of my chest in the form of words, detailing the ways we should celebrate.
“Champagne,” I say, looping my arm through his. “And not the sparkling wine kind, real champagne from France. And dinner. Actually, anything you want, just name it. We’ll get Mum to keep the kids and make a night of it because, remission, Kev. Can you believe it?”
“I want a divorce, Darcy.”
“What?” The words hit me like Miley Cyrus swinging in on her wrecking ball. Boom, right in the chest. We stop walking and face each other.
“I…” He looks at the concrete floor in the parking garage like the words he needs are written down there. I look too. Nothing but our feet and years’ worth of dirt and scuff marks. He meets my eyes again. His faded blue ones look pained, his dark unruly brows arching down. “Dar.” He takes my hand. “You had to know this was coming.”
I snatch my hand back. “No.” I say it so loud that it echoes. “I didn’t know that at all.” I can’t breathe. “Why?”
“Because I almost died. Now I want to live.”
“What the hell have we been doing these last twenty years? Spinning in circles?”
“Dar.” He looks at me in that horrible pitiful way that only those knowingly breaking your heart can accomplish. “We got married so young—”
“So what? We have children, Kevin. A life!” Hysteria coats my words. I’m not sure if I’m going to laugh, scream or cry, but something is coming. I can’t stand here and be understanding when my husband—the man I’ve spent twenty years of my life with, the man I just nursed through eight months of cancer treatment—tells me that he doesn’t want me anymore.
“I know this sounds selfish. But I feel like I’ve been waiting all this time for my life to start. It’s always, ‘wait until the house is paid off,’ ‘wait until the kids have grown up,’ ‘wait until you get that next promotion,’ or ‘until you retire.’”
“I can’t believe this,” I mutter, my eyes wide.
“I don’t want to wait until I’m retired. I want to live now, experience a different life now.”
“So, let’s experience the world together. You know, we could pull the kids from school and travel anywhere in the world if that’s what you want. Sell everything and just go. We could do that. You don’t have to leave us to change your life.”
He gets that pitying look on his face again.
My stomach recoils. Oh…oh dear… “Unless…” I take a step back, choosing my words carefully. “It’s not the world you want to experience, is it?”
He shakes his head.
“I see. It’s other women?”
“Dar.” He reaches for me but I dodge him.
“No. Don’t ‘Dar’ me. We have a life, Kevin. A good life. And you’re throwing it all away because cancer made you realise you didn’t fuck enough in your youth?” I rake my hands through my hair then start to laugh. It’s a mad laugh, one of those laughs that doesn’t belong in the situation. But it’s all so ridiculous. Too ridiculous. Is this even real?