Redemption (Enigma Black Trilogy Book #3) by Sara Furlong-Burr Page A
Authors: Sara Furlong-Burr
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menu. Oh, and the D.J. I’m thinking we may want to get on that this week, actually I think my dad knows someone from the shop who knows someone who moonlights as a D.J. on the side, and—”
Chase stared out over the horizon from the balcony of their apartment, having stopped paying attention to her several minutes ago. All talk had been centered around the wedding and only the wedding, leaving room for little else.
“Chase? Chase, are you paying attention?” Paige said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.
“What? Yeah, I’m paying attention,” he answered her, coming back to reality. “A D.J. We need a D.J.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’ve seemed less than thrilled with the whole wedding planning process lately. Is everything okay?”
“Of course, yes. Of course it is,” he lied. “I’m just tired from putting in all the extra hours at the hospital.”
“Oh, okay,” she replied, relieved. “For a minute there I thought you were having second thoughts about the wedding.”
“What else do we need to look into?” he said, forcing a smile. “Are we going to have enough time to do all we need to do?”
“Chase, what are you saying?” Her eyes grew wide. “You don’t—you don’t want to postpone the ceremony, do you? All this work—all—all this planning—all—” A ring from inside their apartment interrupted her. Hastily, she jumped up and ran to the door. “I’ll bet it’s the wedding planner,” she said, excitement returning to her voice.
“If ever there was a time to be saved by the bell,” he muttered.
His eyes drifted over to the empty patio chair next to him and the piles of bridal magazines strewn over both it and the floor. I should be excited , he thought. Why am I not excited ? I’ve always wanted a marriage, a family . He picked up a magazine from the patio floor and thumbed through the innumerable photographs of bridal gowns, table settings, and exotic locales before he stopped at a photograph near the back of the magazine, one that abruptly caught his eye. In the picture stood a groom, photographed at the very moment his bride—his future wife—came into view. The look on the man’s face said it all. The crooked smile spread across his face and the sparkle in his eyes reflected love, pure, uninhibited, and brilliant enough to light up the dimly lit church. Chase stared at the photograph, at the man whose image had been permanently captured for posterity, and tried to imagine himself in the man’s place, seeing his future wife for the first time.
No , he thought. This is all wrong . This isn’t how any of this is supposed to feel . He tossed the magazine at the chair, just missing it. I’ve got to tell her . I will tell her .
Behind him, he heard the patio door fly open. “Paige, we need to talk,” he said, turning around. “I—” His thought was interrupted by the look on her face; pain, sheer agony the likes of which he’d never seen before. “What?” he asked, jumping to his feet. “Paige, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“My dad,” she said. Her words tore down the levee that had been holding her tears back, causing her to crumple to the floor. Chase ran to her, catching her as she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.
“What happened? Where’s Paul?” he asked.
“In the hospital,” she cried. “He’s had a massive heart attack.”
*****
Shortly before sunrise, Ian and I pulled off the side of a back road, which had long since been forgotten and lay pitted with potholes.
“Well?” he asked, removing his helmet and wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. “I think we’ve ridden far enough away from The Epicenter that we can finally talk about some sort of game plan.”
I removed my helmet, taking in the beauty of the rising sun. “For some reason the sunrise seems more intense than I remember it,” I mused. “Finding your purpose in life—one that you believe in—has a funny way of
Chase stared out over the horizon from the balcony of their apartment, having stopped paying attention to her several minutes ago. All talk had been centered around the wedding and only the wedding, leaving room for little else.
“Chase? Chase, are you paying attention?” Paige said, snapping her fingers in front of his face.
“What? Yeah, I’m paying attention,” he answered her, coming back to reality. “A D.J. We need a D.J.”
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “You’ve seemed less than thrilled with the whole wedding planning process lately. Is everything okay?”
“Of course, yes. Of course it is,” he lied. “I’m just tired from putting in all the extra hours at the hospital.”
“Oh, okay,” she replied, relieved. “For a minute there I thought you were having second thoughts about the wedding.”
“What else do we need to look into?” he said, forcing a smile. “Are we going to have enough time to do all we need to do?”
“Chase, what are you saying?” Her eyes grew wide. “You don’t—you don’t want to postpone the ceremony, do you? All this work—all—all this planning—all—” A ring from inside their apartment interrupted her. Hastily, she jumped up and ran to the door. “I’ll bet it’s the wedding planner,” she said, excitement returning to her voice.
“If ever there was a time to be saved by the bell,” he muttered.
His eyes drifted over to the empty patio chair next to him and the piles of bridal magazines strewn over both it and the floor. I should be excited , he thought. Why am I not excited ? I’ve always wanted a marriage, a family . He picked up a magazine from the patio floor and thumbed through the innumerable photographs of bridal gowns, table settings, and exotic locales before he stopped at a photograph near the back of the magazine, one that abruptly caught his eye. In the picture stood a groom, photographed at the very moment his bride—his future wife—came into view. The look on the man’s face said it all. The crooked smile spread across his face and the sparkle in his eyes reflected love, pure, uninhibited, and brilliant enough to light up the dimly lit church. Chase stared at the photograph, at the man whose image had been permanently captured for posterity, and tried to imagine himself in the man’s place, seeing his future wife for the first time.
No , he thought. This is all wrong . This isn’t how any of this is supposed to feel . He tossed the magazine at the chair, just missing it. I’ve got to tell her . I will tell her .
Behind him, he heard the patio door fly open. “Paige, we need to talk,” he said, turning around. “I—” His thought was interrupted by the look on her face; pain, sheer agony the likes of which he’d never seen before. “What?” he asked, jumping to his feet. “Paige, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“My dad,” she said. Her words tore down the levee that had been holding her tears back, causing her to crumple to the floor. Chase ran to her, catching her as she wrapped her arms around him and sobbed.
“What happened? Where’s Paul?” he asked.
“In the hospital,” she cried. “He’s had a massive heart attack.”
*****
Shortly before sunrise, Ian and I pulled off the side of a back road, which had long since been forgotten and lay pitted with potholes.
“Well?” he asked, removing his helmet and wiping away the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. “I think we’ve ridden far enough away from The Epicenter that we can finally talk about some sort of game plan.”
I removed my helmet, taking in the beauty of the rising sun. “For some reason the sunrise seems more intense than I remember it,” I mused. “Finding your purpose in life—one that you believe in—has a funny way of
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