Belong Read online

  This book is dedicated to second chance lovers. May you find your forever, this time around.

  Betas: Kayla, Kristy, Amanda, Emma, David

  Thank you for taking the time to read Belong, the Third in the Seven Year Itch Series. It is a stand-alone, but does continue the story of Rachel and Chad. I hope you enjoy it.

  This book is a written act of fiction. Any places, characters, or similarities are purely coincidence. If certain places or characters are referenced it is for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This book is not allowed to be offered for sale, discounted, or free on any sites not authorized by the author. This book may only be distributed by Jennifer Foor, the owner and Author of this series.

  Sharing this book is illegal, and doing so will grant you the guilt of forever being a douchebag to society. Don’t be THAT person everyone hates. Purchase a copy and feel good about your choices.

  Chapter 1

  Nine p.m.

  I’d checked my watch twice to make sure it was the correct time. I’d been sitting in a conference room since ten this morning going over paperwork I’d received from my private investigator. I never wanted to contact someone to look into a person I was so close to, but now I knew I had reason to worry.

  I’d been deliberating with what to do with my newly found information for the entire day; hoping and praying it was somehow untrue. Everything I’d given to my family, to my marriage, and this was how I was being repaid.

  I wanted out of this mockery of a commitment, but knew doing so would damage the close relationship I had with my precious daughter, and that would never be an option for me.

  While I’d been depending on some miracle to make this mess go away, my mind went back to a time when life seemed perfect. I had little to my name in theory, but more than any man could ask for.

  It seemed like forever ago. Now, after ten years I’d made bad choices, which led me into the arms of weakness and the hope for stability.

  My cell phone began vibrating again, this time traveling across the table in wild circular motions. My bloodshot eyes focused on it, staring without any intention of picking it up. I already knew who it was, and there was no way in hell any words from me were going to make sense. I was livid. My inability to rationalize with certain reasoning was preventing me from leaving the room. I knew if I got up, if I made an attempt to restore things to the way they were before, I’d be unable to forget this type of betrayal.

  I never assumed treachery to this extent would happen in my life. I’d prided myself in being the man they needed, the husband any woman could be proud of. I’d worked my ass off, providing her with everything she could ever wish for.

  No one would ever suspect her of being promiscuous. She’d always seemed too prudish to commit adultery. When I married Veronica I thought we’d be together forever. I assumed she’d finally fill an empty void that had been left when I walked away from a complicated relationship years before. I’d let go of something I knew could be good, so the other person didn’t have to make a gut-wrenching decision she might grow to regret. She’d been married, and discovered her husband to be having an affair. Like any shocked spouse, she was devastated. I quickly became the rock she needed. One thing led to another and the relationship became intense. I could have been selfish, but I chose to help her heal. I gave her half of my company and severed ties with her, hoping she’d appreciate me for it.

  For a while I thought I’d made the right choice. I got settled in California and threw all I had into making my company succeed. I’d met Veronica when everything was going great in my life. I’d just signed a deal with a popular recording artist to produce three music videos. The astronomical amount I quoted them must have been chump change, because the check was written before they left the office during that first meeting. To celebrate, I was taken out with the artist and his crew to a fancy release party a few months later.

  From across the room I knew she was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever laid eyes on. Her long black hair was pulled in a straight ponytail. At the time, I thought she’d grown it that long, but later discovered they were extensions.

  Veronica was well known in the industry, having been a makeup artist to many popular artists and stars. She’d lived in California for most of her life, and making connections since she first got out of cosmetology school. Her celebrity list was ample, with names I’d still be honored to work with. Not knowing her status, I approached her that very night, introducing myself and making a mockery out of what I did for a living. She pretty much put me in my place, stating my business was small according to Hollywood standards.

  With my ego taking a hit, I settled on walking away and making the best of the celebration regardless of having gotten the cold shoulder from such a beautiful woman. Let’s face it; I was in Hollywood where every other female who walks by is stunning. I wasn’t worried it would keep me from dating someone else. In my opinion, it was her loss.

  For the next few months, work became crazy. Word of mouth is an amazing thing in my business. Once someone likes your style, they’re telling their friends to use your company. Before I knew it, I had to pick up more equipment and several new employees. We bought a larger facility and finally were in need of our own hair and makeup people.

  Fast forward a few more months, having gone through seven, yes you read it right, seven different individuals who couldn’t make the cut. The hours were strenuous and people didn’t want to give up social time to deal with cranky celebrities.

  My backup plan was for my clients to bring their own hair and makeup people; or people they preferred to work with.

  In steps Veronica, the illustrious woman who’d turned me down with attitude months prior. At first she was standoffish. She did her job and ignored me like I carried a life threatening airborne illness. When I walked onto the set she was running off in opposite directions, having her assistant deal with me in person.

  I found her annoying, and pretty much the biggest bitch I’d yet to meet in the industry. Sure, her work was impeccable, but it didn’t give her the right to shit on me. I’d worked my way up with my clientele and deserved the same respect she got.

  A few days after we’d started shooting a new music video, one of her assistants fell ill. She didn’t want to delay the production; she asked if she could come in earlier to get the work done herself. In order for it to happen, I made myself available to be there. I could tell from the way she glanced in my direction, that she wasn’t amused by my efforts. She would roll her eyes and pretend I was in her way.

  It took me two hours to break her.

  I’d found out what her favorite pastries were and had them freshly delivered. While she was busy working, I had her Mercedes Benz detailed and filled the tank with premium gas. I even provided her with lunch, which was one hundred percent vegan, according to her standards.

  From that day on she began opening up. We’d actually talk when we crossed paths, and soon I gave asking her out another go.

  I know what you must be thinking. She’s a snob. She’s a bitch. Why would someone with a brain want to be with a cold-hearted woman?

  Veronica was a lot more than meets the eyes.

  It took her sixteen dates to get her to open up to me, and in that time I learned to appreciate other things about the sultry woman.

  I knew right away she had secrets, and I was okay with it. We all have a past; some of us wishing we could get mulligans to correct what we’d thought we’d done right the first time. I never pressed her for informa
tion, but slowly proved she could trust me.

  Our physical relationship took a while to heat up. First we became friends. She let down her walls and explained so much to me, causing me to want to do whatever I could in order to understand everything she’d gone through.

  Months after we began to have a relationship, Veronica opened up regarding the brutal truths of her past.

  She’d come from a poverty stricken town south of the Mexican border. Her father, an ex-associate of the head of the cartel, had been killed during an illegal delivery of narcotics to Miami back in the eighties. Her American mother fled, bringing her daughter back to the states to provide her with a proper life.

  She changed their names, and lived without a paper trail for many years. When Veronica became a teenager her mother finally told her the truth; who she was and where they’d come from. She also divulged some gut-wrenching news, which caused Veronica to lose trust in society. When Veronica was only six her uncle had began molesting her. During that time, Veronica was forced into a small broom closet for hours at a time until she’d agree to cooperate with the man. She was abused physically, first in places no one would notice, and then obvious areas, punched and cut.

  When her mother discovered what was going on she did what every good parent would have. She attacked the man in his sleep, stabbing him several times and leaving him for dead.

  She learned it was one of the reasons her mother left Mexico. She wanted to get away and hide from the brutal attack and discovery she’d made, hoping she could keep it all from her daughter. Unfortunately, Veronica suffered from severe depression. She may have blocked it from her memory, but she knew something wasn’t right.

  She was withdrawn when it came to men. Once in a school setting, Veronica was assessed by professionals, and was put into therapy to help her recover from her obvious fears.

  She said it wasn’t until she was a teenager when she realized something was preventing her from interacting with teenage boys. That’s when her mother came clean and explained what she’d been through.

  Veronica never went into details, and it broke my heart to ask about it any further. The idea of a grown man touching a child makes me ill. I’d never been a violent kind of guy, but it makes me want to commit murder.

  Veronica had been in therapy for much of her life, having once suffered from social anxiety, and Androphobia, which translates to a fear of men.

  The way she’d acted around me finally made sense, and even though I felt sorry for her young life experiences, I fell in love with the gentle soul she hid away from the rest of the world.

  It took a very long time for her to trust me; to let me into her life completely. I was patient, gentle, and extremely understanding. A year later we moved in together. I became her rock, and I can honestly say we were happy for a time.

  Our daughter was born two years after we were married. Harper was as beautiful as her mother, with light brown eyes that popped amidst her olive complexion. She was spoiled beyond belief, and I don’t think there was anything in the world Veronica wouldn’t give her.

  She was, and always has been a good mother. I’ll give her that. She’d lie down and die before she ever let anything happen to our child.

  A part of me wishes it were how she felt about me. Now I wonder if Veronica has ever been capable of loving any man with her whole heart.

  While I stared down at the photos of my wife in compromising situations with her female psychiatrist, I fear what’s next to come. Are they in love? Is she planning on taking Harper away from me? Would she be so cold?

  My phone rang again, this time from the carpet. I got down and crawled to fetch it, finally bringing it up to my ear. “Yeah.”

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  I smiled when I realized it was Harper’s voice, my five-year-old daughter. “Hi, sunshine. What are you still doing up?”

  “I was waiting for you. Mommy said I could.”

  “Oh, she did? Mommy is going to be in trouble for that.” In more ways than one.

  “Will you come home now, Daddy?”

  I sighed and realized I couldn’t hide out at the office forever. This situation was going to need to be dealt with, even if I wasn’t going to like the consequences. “Sure. I’m on my way. Why don’t you go get into bed and I’ll tell you a story as soon as I get there.”

  “Okay. I love you, doo doo head.”

  I snickered. When we were playing around she liked to get away with calling me that. Some would say it was inappropriate, but Harper didn’t speak that way in front of others. It was our thing.

  “Right back at ya, stinker butt.”

  Ten minutes after the call, I was on my way home. It was late, and I hoped for her sake, Harper had fallen asleep. I glanced down at the folder on the passenger seat; the one containing more proof than any suspecting husband could need for closure. My heart hurt thinking about it. I’d devoted so much to my marriage. I’d been the man she needed.

  In hindsight, I think there was a part of me who always knew it would be easier for her to connect with other women. Of course she’d be able to open up to someone who didn’t have a dick. Still, it didn’t hurt any less.

  Thinking back to a time when I was young, fantasizing about being with two women, and then being able to experience it brought everything around full-circle. I’d dabbled in threesomes and taboo sexual encounters. I’d had my fun, carrying the memories with me, but this was different. The person I loved didn’t love me back, not the way I needed her to.

  When I stepped inside the house I got this eerie feeling in my gut. Something was off, and it wasn’t the news I came bearing. Something else was going to happen, and I feared I wasn’t going to like it at all.

  Chapter 2

  An illuminating light was coming from the bedroom. I followed it down the long, narrow hall, taking a pit stop to check on Harper. She was sprawled out on top of her covers, a book in her hand for me to read. I moved it to her bedside table and lifted her up to be able to tuck her in. If I didn’t shove the sheets under the mattress each night she’d kick them off and end up freezing, and in my bed.

  Once I’d gotten her situated, I stood there watching her sleep. She was peaceful, without a care in the world. I envied her for it. If only being an adult were so easy.

  Since I knew I was delaying the inevitable, I headed in the direction of my bedroom to seek out my wife.

  Veronica was sitting on top the mattress. She was wearing a silk nightgown, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for my wife. She smiled when she saw me standing in the doorway. “I tried to call you several times.”

  “I was caught up in something.” I kicked my shoes off and started to walk toward the bathroom. “What did you need?”

  “I wanted to know when you’d be home. Harper kept asking for you.”

  I continued our conversation while turning on the shower. “I thought we agreed to put her to bed at a decent hour.”

  “She refused. You know how she gets. She didn’t want to close her eyes until she knew you were coming to tuck her in.”

  “She was sound asleep when I checked on her. I’m sure she’d be fine. You probably told her I was coming just to go against me.”

  I heard her footsteps coming into the bathroom. “I beg your pardon? What’s gotten into you? If you had a bad day at work don’t bring it home with you.”

  I turned to face her; to look into those elusive brown eyes and give her a piece of my mind. She’d hurt me, betrayed me, but I stood there just staring, like none of it mattered. “When did you stop loving me, Veronica?”

  My question wasn’t meant to stir up a fight or to cause pain to my already affected ego. I wanted the truth. I deserved it.

  “Why would you ask me that? I’ve never stopped loving you, Chad.”

  She reached her hand up to stroke the side of my cheek. My eyes traveled across the exposed skin on her shoulder, up to her neck. I imagined her psychiatrist in the photos I’d gotten, kissing her there. It was difficul
t not to break down in front of her. I’m not sure what was more upsetting; the idea of losing my wife to another woman, or the thought of them taking my daughter away from me. Desperate to cling to hope, I pulled my wife in my arms and kissed her. She didn’t resist, so I kept at it, almost forcing myself to enjoy what I was doing.

  I was angry.

  I’d been angry for weeks, ever since the day I overheard her phone conversation. At the time, I hadn’t known who she was talking to. I just knew it was someone she could be having an affair with. Words like ‘he’ll never know’, and ‘our secret place’ were mentioned. I’d been agonizing over what to do since that day.

  After hiring someone to follow her around, and feeling like shit about it, I now held the proof I never wanted to find to be true. My wife was involved with someone else; someone I couldn’t begin to compete with, not unless I got a sex change for starters.

  As devastated as I was, I continued on, my lips lingering around her ear, while my hands worked fast to remove her thin nightgown. She was naked before we separated for air, those eyes that drove me crazy seeking out what would come next. After kicking off the last of my clothes, I backed us up into the hot shower. For some reason I felt the need to prove she was mine. My mind was a disarray. I wanted resolution, but also a guarantee I wouldn’t lose everything dear to me with one swift kick. I needed to know there was still something between us, something worth fighting for even if my heart shattered into a million tiny shards.

  Veronica pushed me away, leaning her own body against the cold tile wall instead of being in my warm welcoming arms. “You’re being strange. What’s wrong?”

  There was a moment before I responded where I considered letting it go; tossing the photographs away and pretending nothing was going on behind my back, but I struggled to accept I’d have to share my wife. “I know what you’ve been doing, Veronica.”

  “What have I been doing?” She questioned, as if she had no idea what I was speaking of.