Page 46 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

“ I 'm not taking the melatonin gummies, so why does this keep happening every time I close my eyes?”

“Beats the hell out of me,” Miranda replied, walking up the front path. “Haven House has always held a little magic, but I think it has more to do with—”

“My mother.”

“As much as I’d love to feed that romantic notion, my darling, I cannot,” Miranda said with a hint of regret in her tone. “It’s the Fairweathers. It’s the land. It’s the curse. The amalgamation of those three damns us all.”

Jamison tried not to let her disappointment show. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true.” Miranda paused to examine Ty’s rainbow garden. “You forget that I lived at Parkland Grounds. It was built with the blood of others and, much like Haven House, has a few things that go bump in the night.”

It was hard to believe this woman had been so sick at the end of her life. Here, Miranda looked radiant. Healthy. Dressed in fitted trousers and a rather chic hunter green jacket, she tossed her long brown hair over her shoulders.

“In most of the pictures I’ve seen, your hair was short,” Jamison said, feeling the odd need to make small talk. “But I like it long.”

Miranda beamed. “Josie likes it long, too.”

Ah, there was some common ground. Jamison grinned. “Josie is awesome. She puts Samuel in his place.”

“Someone has to.” Miranda laughed. “My son isn’t like anyone else. I’m thankful for Josie. And I’m thankful for your sister.”

Jamison figured if she was going to talk to imaginary Miranda, she might as well ask the hard questions. “You don’t think it’s weird?”

“Samuel and Evie?” Miranda quirked an eyebrow. “God, no. Can’t you see how their souls are bound together? Destiny is a fickle creature, but she always strikes true.”

It wasn’t the answer she expected, and Jamison glanced at the side yard, searching for her mother.

“She’s not here,” Miranda said, her face softening. “Laura Jean and CeCe are busy preparing.”

“Preparing for what?”

“The end.”

Jamison swallowed, not caring for the way Miranda’s words felt like a punch to the gut. “The end of what?”

Hands in her pockets, Miranda strolled slowly down the path. “I was so young when I first came to Haven House. I thought I knew everything about life back then. I thought I was strong. Hell, I knew I was strong after going up against your grandmother and not backing down from the old dragon.”

She stopped to grin at something in the distance, pointing at a maple tree close to the dock. “Your father proposed to me right over there. We went for a walk with Selah and chased squirrels.”

“Did you know you were in love with Josie when you married him?”

“Oh, yes. Josie is mine, and I’m hers, and that’s all there is to it.

” Miranda turned to face her again, and the smile on her lips made her appear positively radiant in the morning sun.

“But you see, the societal norms and expectations of me during that time left me in denial. I had obligations. Marriage. Home. Children. There was an order to maintain without deviation or resistance. I was to be the perfect wife, mother, and counterpart to an empire crafted by the Fairweathers.”

“That’s a very... traditional way of thinking.” Jamison folded her arms and leaned against a column. “Thank God we’re moving past it, and women who want something different aren’t looked down upon. By the time Harper and Theo grow up, maybe it won’t be such a big deal.”

“Aren’t they amazing?” Miranda whispered, giddy with excitement. “I am in complete awe of my granddaughters and of my new grandson on the way. Those three will become a force to be reckoned with, and I can’t wait to see it all play out.”

Jamison opened her mouth to tell her new imaginary friend that she had no idea what the baby would be like, but Miranda cut her off. “All children need to be loved, Jamison. Every one of them. And it’s up to the right people to provide that love, even when society expects something else from you.”

The soft click of her bedroom door opening had her waking in a terrified rush. Miranda’s smiling face vanished, and Jamison sat up in a panic.

“It’s me,” Liam whispered. “You okay?”

“Dream.” She flopped back onto the mattress. “Nightmare? Christ, I don’t even know anymore.”

The faintest hint of morning peeked through the curtains, giving her enough light to watch as Liam stripped off his clothes. His lean body, packed with its usual definition and those new muscles, made the whole no-touch rule extremely hard.

“Why do you have to look so good?”

He grinned, focused on removing his pants. “It’s both a gift and a curse.”

“Do you want pain meds?”

“I’m okay.” Down to his boxers, he slid into bed and reached for her immediately. “My arm is stiff from sitting in the same position for so long.”

“What did I miss?”

“Circles.” On his back, holding her hand under the sheets and blankets, he fixed his tired gaze on the ceiling. “Circles and circles and circles.”

His frustration was so palpable that she could feel it oozing into her skin and merging with her own. “But there is no endpoint.”

“Why can’t I find him? Sinclair tries to kidnap you.

He orchestrates Emily and Claudia’s kidnappings.

But why? What does he gain?” His voice dropped to a whisper, knowing that neither of them had the answers.

“Why is this happening? Why babies? Is the Brandy thing real? And if what Toby says about her is the truth, is she—this woman we’ve had no contact with nor knew existed—the mastermind behind it all? ”

“Top to bottom?” she offered .

Eyes closing, he nodded. “Go.”

“Sinclair targets Fairweather women for Zanmi,” she started. “Three of us. Me, Emily, and Claudia.”

“But why Claudia if she’s involved?” he countered.

“Kidnap her and then let her go? Was it for show, or was it for another reason? It could be that Parker found out Sinclair’s people grabbed her and ordered them to let her go.

If that’s true, then Zanmi’s fractured with one hand, not knowing what the other’s doing. ”

“You sound happy.”

“I love chaos. That bitch is my best friend.” He turned his head to wiggle his eyebrows at her. “Chaos exposes cracks. Makes people sloppy.”

“You really should have followed in your father’s footsteps.”

“Don’t start.”

But he would notice the small things no one else did. She propped up on her elbow. “What mistakes are you seeing?”

“The women.”

“The ones who came here?”

“They died scared,” he said, empathy sneaking into the words. “The whole thing was nothing but theatrics, yet when it came down to it, I don’t think they knew they were going to die.”

She thought back to how Izzy had described the woman who died in her arms, young and frightened with her whole life ahead of her. If Liam was right, then those women were pawns, murdered by the family they thought they had found in Zanmi.

“That makes it worse.” She laid a hand on his chest, careful to avoid his wound. “What would be the point?”

“Punishment. Performance. Maybe both. Sinclair used them—of that, we’re sure.”

She studied his profile. The long slope of his nose, the fullness of his lips, the sharp cut of cheekbone and jaw.

Five years later, this man still gave her butterflies. “I can’t wait to be your wife.”

The strained lines on his handsome face lessened. “We need to wait.”

She released a humorless laugh, thinking the same as him. “With Madison still out there…”

“It makes me sick to think of her with them.” He pulled her close, kissing her forehead. “We have no right to take a moment for ourselves. Not a real one. A quick break is one thing, but celebrating a wedding… we just can’t.”

“I agree.” She nestled her face in the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smelled like home, and she never wanted to leave. “I’ll wear that damn dress one day.”

“You will. Sooner than you think.”

That got her attention, and she pulled back. “What?”

“Before you say no, hear me out.”

Ugh. She knew that tone. He had some genius idea that would probably work, but that she wasn’t going to like. “Spill it.”

“We’ll keep pretending we’re getting married this weekend.”

“…Okay?”

“I know someone’s talking to Sinclair.”

“How?”

“Because I’m me.” He smirked down at her. “And I know everything.”

She kissed his neck, nipping playfully with her teeth. Under the sheets, he hardened, his long length brushing against her hand still splayed on his stomach.

“Tell me your plan,” she whispered, her fingers wrapping one by one around his cock. They had done this only once before, with neither of them able to focus enough to finish, too concerned with the cameras watching. “And relax. No one can see us.”

The muscles in his entire body tightened on the first slow pump, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Someone’s talking to him… and I want them to keep …

doing that .” He shifted slightly to block the camera’s view, letting her work him with a slow, steady rhythm.

“I want Sinclair to think this wedding’s real.

He’s been quiet too long. It’ll piss him off. ”

“You know what I want?” She pressed her thumb to his tip, smearing the moisture. “You in my mouth until I gag. Then fucking me so hard—”

“Evie’s coming tomorrow,” he said loudly for the camera.

His eyes shuttered closed as she worked, and using his bad arm, reached behind him to grab the T-shirt left half hanging off the bed from where he’d undressed in a hurry.

“Samuel wants to review what we’ve gathered so far while you and Evie do wedding stuff. Try on your dress.”

She giggled into his neck. “I want to be fucked in that dress,” she whispered. “It’s so short, and I don’t plan to wear any underwear when I walk down the aisle.”