Forever: Beautiful Series, book two Read online

  Forever

  Beautiful Series, book two

  Lilliana Anderson

  Contents

  Foreword

  Forever - Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  The Backstory

  Phoenix - Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  4. Six months earlier

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  9. Eight months after the note

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  13. 10 months since the note

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  16. One week in the overpriced motel

  17. The morning after the plan

  Chapter 18

  19. Six months faking it with Ed

  Chapter 20

  21. Zero days since my last fuck up

  Chapter 22

  23. Three months into the ho life

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  27. The day I stopped counting

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  31. The day the numbers start back up

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  36. One month sober

  Chapter 37

  38. 8 months clean

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  41. 18 months sober

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  45. Five

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  48. The first day of the rest of my life

  Chapter 49

  Also by Lilliana Anderson

  About the Author

  Foreword

  I went into Forever thinking it wouldn’t be as much work to rewrite as Struggle was. And boy, was I wrong. I got to absorb myself in the lives of Paige and Elliot and flesh out their story in a way that I feel does their hardships justice.

  It’s been great going through these books with the knowledge of future couples in my mind, because I can drop crumbs for you that lead into the next book. One thing I’ve had to smile about though is the mention of Brad. If you’ve read the series before, you’ll know him from Taste. But I didn’t realise I had a tattooed guy called Brad mentioned in both Struggle and Forever. He obviously made his way into my subconscious without me realising.

  I’ve made big changes and little changes in the following pages, and I feel that it fits the series better now. When I wrote it the first time, Forever was supposed to be the final book. But there was a call for more, so I provided happily.

  Enjoy!

  Forever - Prologue

  Elliot

  Encouraging the sweaty, grunting man in front of me to tuck his knees closer to his chest as he does mountain climbers, I distractedly scan the people and the scenery in the Royal Botanic Gardens, Sydney. I do it every time I bring a client here, always searching even though it’s been almost two years.

  But then I finally see her. Her movement is unmistakable as she runs in a rhythmic pace along the path in front of me. The two years I spent trying to get over her fall away like I didn’t even live them. I’m taken right back to where I was, wanting her, wishing I could touch her.

  Holding my breath, I watch her run, her ponytail swinging from side to side as her feet hit the concrete. God, she’s beautiful. When she turns her head in my direction, a gripping pain creeps over my chest, constricting my airways as recognition steals over her face.

  Secretly, I’m hoping she runs past me so I can convince myself I’m seeing things, but no such luck. She’s stopped. My stomach flips in response while my arm automatically waves at her. Suddenly, I hear myself telling my client I’ll be back in a minute, my feet propelling me towards her.

  “Hey, stranger,” I say, trying to sound casual as I flash a smile.

  Katrina stands with her hands on her hips, grinning at me as I approach. I have so much I want to say to her. I want to tell her I’ve changed, that I’m ready to put her first, that I would do anything for the right to touch her again. My body is screaming at me to reach out. But I don’t. She’s no longer mine.

  “What’s this?” she asks immediately, indicating the logo on my shirt. I smile to myself; she’s never been one to mince words. She seems exactly the same, like I only saw her yesterday.

  “I’m a personal trainer now,” I say, grinning because she was the one who encouraged me to go after my dream.

  Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “What? What happened to becoming a judge?”

  Still smiling, I shake my head from side to side. “That was my father’s dream for me. After you left, I did a lot of soul-searching and decided to make my own path.” It took a huge amount of courage and fighting for me to get here. I dedicated my life to the legal profession, pushing my own desires aside so I could fulfil what my father insisted was my destiny. But I was miserable, and it wasn’t until after Dad forced me to choose between his plotted path and Katrina that I finally looked at my life and fought to reclaim it for myself. No more living other people’s dreams.

  “Wow, that’s amazing, Elliot. I'm really happy for you.”

  My eyes land on her left hand, and my chest tightens as I see the ring she now wears. Shit. Swallowing the ball that has lodged itself firmly in my throat, I gesture to it. “Looks like congratulations are owed to you as well. Is that from David?”

  She looks at her hand briefly, like she needs to confirm we’re looking at the same thing then gives me a small nod. “Oh, thank you. The wedding is a while off, but everything else is great.” Giving me a tight smile, she meets my eyes and places her hand back on her hip. “How about you? How are things with you?”

  I look into her face, searching for some semblance of the way she used to look at me. But there's nothing there. I shift a little uneasily on my feet, feeling slightly sick in the guts.

  Clearing my throat, I finally answer her. “Well, I don’t really speak to my dad anymore. Which, really, is a good thing. And I’m seeing someone now. It took a while, and she’s not you...but things are OK. I’m certainly not ready for a commitment like that yet,” I say, nodding at that bloody ring again. I’m trying to sound OK with it, but it hurts. It's like my brain is swelling and throbbing against my skull from the sight of it.

  She seems unfazed by seeing me and just stands there, smiling like we’re buddies. Her eyes shift to look over my shoulder, where I’m sure my client is still waiting. “Well, I’d better let you get back to it.” she says, starting to back awa
y from me. I hate feeling like this. It's like she’s tearing a part of me off the further she steps. “It was nice to see you again, Evan.”

  I laugh, but it makes this hollow and empty sound. I don’t mean for it to come out that way, but I’m feeling a little bitter. We had something amazing, and I let it slip away.

  “You too, Katrina. I'll see you around. If not, have a great life.” I smile on only one side of my face before I run back to my client, forcing my feet every step and refusing to let myself turn around.

  I don’t chance a look at her again until after I’ve told my client what his next exercise is. My guts are churning as I watch her run away, but I can’t stop staring. She doesn’t even look back. Fuck.

  I lied to her. I'm not seeing anyone. Truth is, I haven’t dated anyone in the two years since her. I fucked around a lot which is really out of character for me, but I needed to try to get her out of my head. It never helped because every time I closed my eyes, I dreamed about our time together. It was fucking perfect, and I destroyed it because I was too much of a pussy to stand up to my dad.

  Now she’s engaged, and I’ve got no chance. I guess I could pursue her and try to change her mind. But there’s something about the way she just looked at me that tells me it would be a waste of time. Plus, she seems happy, and I’m not a home wrecker. At the end of the day, David is a good guy, and they have a lot of history. I'm sure they’ll be disgustingly blissful together.

  “Elliot!” My client snaps me back from my thoughts. “What’s next?”

  Dragging my eyes from watching Katrina’s figure fade into the distance, I apologise. “Let’s cool down,” I say, taking him for a run in the opposite direction. I don’t trust myself not to chase her down.

  One

  Paige

  “My family are all dead.” I drop that bomber after trying to avoid questions from the well-meaning lady beside me for the last twenty minutes. I get that she’s just trying to make conversation to pass the time, but the flight from Sydney to Heathrow Airport is almost a day in length. I don’t have it in me to talk to her for that long.

  “Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that,” she stammers out, now not sure what to say. She looks at me, her mouth moving up and down like she's a goldfish caught out of water. Her jowly cheeks wobble, and her eyes dart nervously around as she searches for something else to say.

  “It’s fine. I just don’t like to talk about it,” I tell her, looking out the window at the passing clouds. After years of saying my family kicked me out, I’ve stopped. I’ve taken to telling people they all died in an accident. It’s easier that way. People ask too many questions when you tell them you were evicted from your own family at fifteen. Besides, it doesn’t make me sound so great. I’m the one who was cast out. The one no one loved enough to fight for, someone who’s too much trouble to put up with. It’s better if I say they’re dead, it makes me lucky to be the one who’s still alive. Better still, it stops the questions.

  Staring out the window, I watch the clouds roll by below us, a fluffy white and grey blanket I so desperately want to touch. The woman turns her attention to the guy sitting on the other side of her—some guy I noticed in the gate lounge—and asks him questions about his life instead. I've made her uncomfortable. I’ve probably made everyone within earshot uncomfortable. Oh well.

  Pressing the buds of my headphones in my ears, I scroll through my music and select an album. I’m really into 90s alternative music right now so I choose Custard’s Wahooti Fandango. ‘Teensville’ starts floating into my ears as I close my eyes and lean my head against the window. I keep the sound at a level that is just enough to mask the sounds of the plane but quiet enough to lull me off to sleep. Every moment that passes is a moment closer to freedom, to a new start.

  Elliot

  Please let me sleep. This woman sitting next to me won’t stop yammering in my ear. I’m trying to listen and answer her politely, but I have been awake for over twenty hours now, and I’m really struggling.

  My eyes stray towards the girl sitting in the window seat. Her dark curls have fallen forward, covering most of her face as she sleeps at an awkward angle against the window. I so wish I was her right now.

  “Is London the end of your journey?” the woman asks, leaning slightly so her face blocks my view.

  I nod and exaggerate a yawn. “It is. How about you?”

  “Oh no, I'm going onto Scotland. My sister lives there in Dundee. I’m staying with her for a whole month. It’ll be wonderful. Just like when we were kids. I grew up there, you know? But we left for Australia when I was very young. My sister returned in her 20s to rediscover her heritage. Then she met a man and never left. We’ve always been so close. It’s hard having her live on the other side of the world.”

  Opening my mouth, I exaggerate another yawn, nodding along while I add some sleepy eyes in for good measure.

  “You poor boy, I’m keeping you up. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s no trouble.” It’s a lot of trouble. Be quiet.

  “I don’t sleep very well without one of these.” She takes a packet of sleeping pills out of her bag and puts one in her mouth, swallowing it dry. “I’ll stop talking now. You sleep.”

  Gratefully, I close my eyes. Exhaustion washing over my body.

  Paige

  In my dream, there’s a bear growling outside. I’m aware it’s a dream because Australia doesn’t have bears in the wild, so it confuses me to hear one. My consciousness moves forward as the rumbling sounds vibrate through me. It’s the sounds of the plane and…. snoring? My eyes flutter open and I remove the buds from my ears—the album I was listening to long since over—and turn my head towards the exasperating noise.

  The woman who was talking to me earlier has her head tilted back, her mouth wide open, the noise emanating from her throat. I squint at her, willing her with my mind to stir enough so the noise will stop. When she makes a small choking sound, I flinch, surprised and slightly impressed with my new mind control ability as she quiets and her breathing evens out.

  I breathe out slowly, glad the noise is over, and move to replace the buds in my ears. But I’m paused, my reprieve all too brief, as my skull vibrates when she starts up again. So much for my awesome mind control skills…

  I cross my eyes in agitation and reach my hand toward her, clamping my fingers on either side of her nose. She makes a guttural sound, and I withdraw my hand quickly, looking out the window and pretending nothing happened. I count seconds as I wait to see if it worked, feeling safe when I reach a full minute in silence.

  “Thank god,” I say to myself as I lean my head back against the window. The second I relax however, she starts up again.

  The guy on the other side of her starts laughing. I lean forward to look at him. Fuck, he’s pretty. In my old life, I’d call him a ‘gorgeous fuck’: a man who looks good but has little substance. They’re only good for one thing, and that thing is something I’m no longer interested in.

  Seems he’s caught the giggles. He’s laughing so hard over my snore battle with Chatty McChatterson that I find myself smiling without even meaning to.

  He's quite frankly, the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. Which is saying something because I’ve met some stunning men in my time. He looks almost too large to be in such a small seat. His long legs are angled so that one is in the aisle, and the other is wedged in the minute gap between the seats in front of him. His broad shoulders span further than the width of the seat. And not that it matters, but his golden brown hair is a little longer than I like on a guy, but it suits him. He’s wearing a good day or two worth of stubble, which I’ll admit is a bit on the sexy side. And up this close, it’s his eyes that are most striking. They look like someone took the clearest, bluest part of the ocean and dropped it into his irises. Magazine material.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, running a hand over his face. “I’m not laughing at you. I've been trying to make her stop snoring for ages. I’m laughing at the situation
.”

  His smile is textbook perfect and creases the corners of his eyes as they water a little from his laughter. It’s a killer smile. If I hadn’t sworn myself off men years ago, I think I’d go all fluttery over him. But I don’t. I have a black heart.

  Elliot

  Tears are streaming out of my eyes, and I wipe at them as this girl keeps looking at me. She’s a stunner. With masses of curly dark-brown hair, olive skin, a full pouty mouth and amazing eyes. They kind of look like a piece of amber, hazel in the middle and flecked brown and gold with a thick dark edge before her whites come into play. They’re pretty awesome. I don’t mind that she’s studying me, because it gives me a good look at them.