All's Fair in Love and Blood: A Romantic Comedy Novel Read online

  All’s Fair in

  Love and Blood

  Jennifer Peel

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2021 by Jennifer Peel

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission of the copyright owner. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law.

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  The Before

  The Wedding

  The Reception

  The Red Dress

  Dinner by the Numbers

  Personal Mission Statement

  Ten Best Qualities

  Predictions

  Zombies and First Dates

  A Secret Behind the Eyes

  Kissing Lessons

  Testing the Limits

  Confessions of a Forensic Pathologist

  Sharing Secrets

  In Hot Water

  My Girl

  On Top of the World

  Never Be the Same

  He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not?

  The Beginning of the End

  The After

  Houseguest

  To Stay or to Go

  Jumping Back in the Water

  Declaration of War

  Heart Surgeon, Anyone?

  How to Save the World

  Peace Offering

  A Dream Come True

  The Runners’ Club

  The Best Man

  The Friend Zone

  The Start of Something Good

  Bueller? Bueller?

  Missed Memories

  The Experience

  Kiss and Tell

  Plot Twist

  What a Girl Wants

  Checking All the Boxes

  Edge of the World

  The Ever After

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To: My children. The best examples of how dreams really do come true.

  The Before

  What is The Before? The Before is the summer before my senior year of college. It’s the summer Kane Hudson changed my life. The summer I learned to love myself. And the summer I fell deeply in love. The Before impacted me in ways I never could have imagined. Just like Kane Hudson did. He taught me more about life than anyone. Then he stole my heart and never gave it back. It wasn’t all he was going to take, but we will get to that in “The After.”

  First, we must start at the beginning. The day Kane Hudson came crashing into my life. It all began at our parents’ wedding.

  The Wedding

  “Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Please don’t let me fall. What did that article say about walking in heels? It’s all about the posture? Am I standing tall?”

  “Excuse me?” Garrett—the groomsman I was clinging to—asked out of the side of his mouth.

  Did I say that out loud? “Nothing,” I squeaked.

  How long is this aisle, anyway? If only I could see. Or maybe I should be happy I’m nearsighted and stepmother number seven thought I would look better without my glasses. It’s not like I wouldn’t be going to another one of my father’s weddings in the near future. Besides they’d all looked about the same: hundreds of flowers in varying shades, depending on the season. Though for some reason my father, Augustus Armstrong—or Auggie, as I call him because he doesn’t want to be called Dad or Daddy like most southerners prefer—liked to get married in May. So, usually the flowers were pastel in nature as they were today. Then there were typically myriads of candles in all shapes and sizes, making it smell like there was a massive séance going on. If only. That would probably be more fun. This wife, Eva, wanted to add arches between the pews and Auggie was happy to oblige. He spared no expense when it came to his weddings.

  I was beginning to think my father needed a twelve-step program for wedding addiction. I had been a bridesmaid five times now and a flower girl twice. Perhaps Auggie did it so I would wear a dress at least every couple of years when he created a new future ex-wife. Regardless, I wasn’t sure I was going to survive this go-around.

  Tight core and land on the ball of your foot first, I reminded myself. Unfortunately, I had nothing close to a tight core, as I was still happily holding on to the freshman fifteen and had never worn heels so high or SPANX—another requirement from the latest woman trying to fill my momma’s shoes. Though I didn’t know if my momma had ever worn heels. In fact, I didn’t know much about her at all, except she had died when I was one. Other than that, I knew only what I’d seen in the single picture I had of her. She was beautiful, with her willowy figure, golden-blonde hair, and forest-green eyes like mine. She wouldn’t have required SPANX, and no one would have ever said something to her like, “Scarlett, if you would only lose some of your baby fat, get some contacts, and get better control of your curls, you would be so pretty.”

  Those words from Eva had been playing on repeat in my mind for the last several days. Being pretty is overrated, I tried to comfort myself. Eating cookies whenever I wanted to was much more fun. And I didn’t enjoy sticking things in my eyes. As far as my curls went, it would be easier to tame the ocean’s tide. Or at least that was the lie I told myself. Doing my hair was so time consuming, and I had better things to do—like studying. It was no easy feat scoring a 522 on the MCAT. Getting into the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine was my goal. Hopefully with that score I was one step closer.

  Oh. Oh. Oh. There went the left ankle. The large audience gasped on my behalf as I faltered. Even the procession music the orchestra played came to a stop. Great. At least I couldn’t see them. I had to pause and grip Garrett, the unlucky groomsman and cousin of Kane—Eva’s son and my father’s best man. Kane made a good case for wanting to be pretty, but it seemed best not to think about it right now, as my legs were already unsteady enough. Besides, we hadn’t interacted much other than a few pleasantries. He’d seemed more interested in studying me whenever we’d been around each other. He probably thought I was odd. And he would be right. I shouldn’t care what he thought. I should be blaming him for this entire ordeal. Kane worked for my father, and one fateful day, his mother met him at the office for lunch and now here we were. I should be grateful, at least, that Eva wasn’t half my father’s age like the last train wreck.

  Garrett rolled his eyes; at least I think he did. Maybe I should have gotten contacts before the wedding.

  “Are you all right?” Garrett asked begrudgingly.

  “Fine. Just fine,” I whispered through my pain.

  “Let’s keep going,” he grumbled.

  I hobbled the rest of the way down the aisle, thankful I couldn’t see my father or Kane. Despite not being able to see my father, I was sure he was sighing and shaking his head, not quite sure what to do with me as usual. Kane, on the other hand, was probably studying me, again. And I knew he would be beautiful while doing it. As far as I was concerned, it was perfectly fine for me to think about Kane like that since he would be my stepbrother for only a maximum of eighteen months. No wife had made it pas
t three years, and that was a long time ago. My father’s marriage lengths had gotten shorter with each wife. So, Kane and I would never truly be family. Besides, Kane was a lot older than me—like seven years, which made him twenty-nine. And he was so out of my league. That was if I even had a league. I was more like a spectator. When I could see.

  I took my place in the bridal party line, the last in line of seven bridesmaids. I desperately wanted to slip off the nude heels and SPANX and breathe. Breathing would be so nice. SPANX didn’t mess around. Eva had at least let me keep my glasses on until right after I’d slipped into the long blush chiffon dress that had way too many slits in it. I hardly recognized myself in the bridal suite’s floor-length mirror. Who knew I had such a womanly shape? Eva had even SPANXed my thighs. Which was too bad because they would have been clapping for me as I walked down the aisle and I could have used the encouragement.

  When “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles began to play, I praised Jesus. It meant this was almost over. Lady Deathstrike, as I’d nicknamed Eva—the horrid wives all got comic book villain names—would be walking down the aisle any moment now, thinking she was truly the sun in my father’s life. Little did she know that his world revolved around his company, Armstrong Labs. Plasma was his lifeblood.

  Would it be bad if I slipped out of these heels while I waited? I mean, it wasn’t like I was the maid of honor. That title went to Lady Deathstrike’s daughter, Koraline with a K, as she loves to say. She was every bit as beautiful as her mother and brother. They each had these mesmerizing golden-brown eyes and athletic builds. Eva was more fair than her children, who both had olive skin and dark hair. And they were all tall, like the perfect height for modeling. Koraline was a few years older than me, and thankfully, wouldn’t be living at Auggie’s while I was home from school for the summer. If only Auggie hadn’t wanted me to intern at Armstrong Labs this summer, I would have stayed at Samford and taken additional classes while I applied to medical schools. It was always awkward when there was a new wife at home. Inevitably, they wanted to put their mark on the place. The house had been everything from nautical themed to animal prints. Currently, we were still living with an Asian Zen style from the barely legal Barbie doll my father had married only last year. The interior decorators in Atlanta loved my father. Yet, I came home because I wanted to make my father proud, somehow, someway. And the only things I felt like I had to offer were my brains and my reluctant promise to forgo my dream, and instead, work for Armstrong Labs after I graduated from med school.

  I made out a fuzzy vision of Eva, now standing next to my father. People in the audience could be heard whispering about what an attractive couple they made. My father certainly was dashing. Tall, with a thick head of brown hair. Okay, so I was almost certain he dyed it—no way he wasn’t graying at fifty-five. In addition to his good looks, he held himself with such an air of confidence. Something he’d forgotten to pass down to me, his only biological child.

  The audience whisperings weren’t all flattering. All my ex-stepsiblings who were front row center were taking bets on how long this one would last and murmuring about how they hoped the food at the reception was worth the price of the gift they’d brought. My father not only collected ex-wives but their children as well. There were nine of them now, if you included the two today. Most of them were around my age, give or take a few years. Becoming a stepchild of Augustus Armstrong meant having your college tuition paid for and a job upon graduation, as long as you didn’t screw up too badly.

  When the pastor started the ceremony, I felt a surge of hope that I would be able to breathe soon. This was a new pastor, as our old one said he couldn’t in good conscience help my father marry for the eighth time. He had suggested that perhaps my father should take a good look at his life and reevaluate some things. No one told Augustus Armstrong what to do, not even a man of God, so he’d found a new pastor.

  Unfortunately, this pastor didn’t know the routine and droned on about the beauty of becoming one and making a life together. He also made the mistake of saying “until death do you part.” There was a smattering of laughter throughout the audience. Even I had to hold back the giggle that wanted to escape. Eva didn’t find it amusing and tsked loudly. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate anyone who dared to crush her hopes and dreams of defeating the odds stacked against her. She would learn.

  I had never been more grateful to hear the words “I now pronounce you husband and wife; you may kiss the bride.” The fact I couldn’t see it made it all the better. Maybe Eva, though partially evil, was onto something. Maybe I wouldn’t wear glasses to any of my father’s future nuptials. I’m sure the kiss was like all the previous wedding kisses. My father would give the crowd a show by looking longingly at his bride before gently kissing her, and then he would dip her down for effect. After all, he needed a good photo op for the papers and online media outlets. Sure enough, I could see all the flashes of light from the cameras. By the way the crowd was clapping, it sounded like a kiss for the books.

  The blessed recessional music started. It was then I made my decision. I wasn’t walking back down that aisle in these heels. In fact, I was going to wait it out. My ankle was killing me. Garrett could make it back fine without me. He would probably be thrilled, seeing as he had tried to trade bridesmaids with all the other groomsmen. I might not see well, but my hearing is above average. Kane had told him to knock it off. It was very decent of him, given he hardly knew me. Naturally, we’d seen each other at the rehearsal dinner, and he’d been by the house, but I’d hid in my room. I had even seen him at headquarters, as my father called the office. He’d never really said anything more than hello and how are you in his extremely charming southern drawl. It had given me butterflies, which was ridiculous.

  “Are you coming?” Garrett hissed, shaking me out of my thoughts of his cousin.

  “Go on without me.” I waved him away.

  All my ex-stepsiblings chuckled. Mindy, my favorite ex-stepsister and one of the few friends I had, grabbed me and helped lead me to the pew next to her. My father had married Mindy’s mom, Cindy when I was eleven. Yes, Cindy and Mindy. I never understood the reasoning behind the rhyming names. Yet who was I to judge? I mean, when people heard my name was Scarlett, they automatically assumed I was some sexy siren. People were severely disappointed. Thank you, Scarlett Johansson for giving everyone unrealistic expectations of the name.

  If only Auggie could have stayed married to Cindy. Not that she was my favorite, but Mindy was by far my favorite stepsibling. She’d made middle school bearable when I was even more awkward than I am now. Braces weren’t a good look for me.

  Mindy gave me a side hug. “How’s your ankle?”

  “I’ll survive.” I reached down and rubbed it. I had a feeling there was going to be some swelling.

  “Well, you look beautiful.” She was too kind. She was the pretty one. Tiny, blonde, with all the right curves. She’d made it through college without gaining a single pound. But she deprived herself of cookies. So not worth it.

  “It’s the SPANX. Which reminds me, if I pass out, get some scissors and cut me free. No need to call 911.”

  She laughed. “Why in the world did you wear SPANX?”

  “It wasn’t by choice.”

  “Let me guess. Eva? I suppose she has your glasses too?”

  I was able to muster out a big enough breath to make my unruly bangs take flight. “Yep.”

  Mindy squished my cheeks with her petite hands. “I say this because I love you. You have to stop letting people push you around. Especially your stepmommas.”

  “It’s not like Eva will be around long.” I sounded silly defending myself with smooshed cheeks. “And I didn’t walk back down the aisle. Not only that, but I have every intention of being late to the reception, which I’m going to need a ride to, by the way.” That whole not-being-able-to-see thing was a bummer. “And I’m not even going to sit at the family table.”

  Mindy dropped her hands. “Th
at’s because your favorite show is on at the same time.”

  I grinned, because she was partially right. I was obsessed with a docuseries called Confessions of a Forensic Pathologist on YouTube. A new episode is uploaded every Saturday night. I was planning on watching it on my phone. But I was willing to do anything to stay out of the way of my new stepmother. “Okay, fine. I’m a wimp.”

  “You’re not a wimp. You’re amazing. I only wish you could see that.”

  I wish I could too.

  The Reception

  Oh, crap. I hate when I get wedding cake down my bra. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. It wouldn’t be the last. I was sitting in a quiet out-of-the-way spot at the country club where all my father’s wedding receptions have been held, except the one to my momma. It was a cozy little nook near the stone fireplace in the lobby. I set my phone down on the hardwood floor next to me. Thankfully, I could pause my show. Not only was it fascinating, but I kind of had a crush on the host, Landon Drummond, one of the world’s top forensic pathologists.

  Before I wriggled my hand down my bra, I made sure no one was around. Good thing I was alone—I had to really dig. Those dang crumbs dove deep. One thing can be said for my body, and that is I have some ample, perky boobs. Which was good because my dress was strapless. I had no issues holding it up. The problem was, I was doing too good of a job keeping it up. It was a tight squeeze trying to retrieve the pesky, though scrumptious, dark chocolate cake crumbs from my voluminous cleavage. Auggie did have good taste in cake. Women, not so much. Apart from my biological momma, the only other woman I loved was his second wife, Naomi. She was the momma of my heart and the reason I was obsessed with forensic pathology and my show.

  If only Naomi were here. She would have already cut me out of the SPANX and brought me another piece of wedding cake. Yet, seeing as how Auggie was still in love with her and she with him, it would have been in poor taste. He would never admit to being in love with her. He never admitted to loving anyone. Not even me.