Fake Marriage Box Set

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head.

He pulled her to him and shouted to the entire room, “I'm gonna be a dad!”

Claps and whoops come from all around us. “And so is Luke!” he added on.

Warm arms wrapped around me, and in that moment my heart had never been fuller. I realized exactly what I was missing less than five years ago. I was missing the other half of my soul, and now I stood with strong arms wrapped around me, completing my life in a way that most people never experienced.

“I love you.” I whispered to Luke over my shoulder.

“I love you more, and our baby.”

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EXPELLED

By Claire Adams

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

Chapter One

Ian

Balancing the stack of files and a large textbook in one hand, I fumbled with the lock on the classroom door with the other. My palms were sweaty, making the task that much harder. Nerves were wreaking havoc on my body as I anticipated the first day back. I was kicking myself for not using a briefcase like every other person, but not me—I always had to do things the hard way.

“Come on, dammit, give me a break,” I groaned, willing the key to slide into the lock. “Finally!” I breathed in relief when the key slid home, and I managed to turn the doorknob. I looked up and down the hall, hoping no one saw me talking to the door. All clear.

My victory was short-lived, however. The heavy marine science textbook that had been precariously balanced on top of the files slid off, hitting the ground with a thud.

“Dammit!” I cursed again.

I bent down to pick up the book, being careful not to drop the stack of files I was balancing in my free hand. Using my foot to open the door and my elbow to slide up the wall to flip the light switch, I took a moment to survey where I would be working. It looked stark and bleak—much like I felt.

A sudden feeling of hesitation and fear washed over me as I stared at the empty seats. My eyes moved to the desk at the front of the room that would be mine. It all felt foreign—as if the whole scene was a dream. I never thought I would be back in a classroom again. I almost didn’t make it back here.

Shaking off the feeling of dread, I plopped my heavy load on the desk. As I stared at the book with a picture of pink coral on the front, I asked myself the same question I had considered at least a thousand times. Why was I here? I could continue to live on the life insurance and savings I had stored away. I didn’t have to do this.

Teaching was a passion. The ocean and the life that filled it was another passion. That’s why I was standing here in an empty classroom, filled with trepidation. My friends and family told me it was time. I had to pick up the pieces. Grief had stolen nearly everything from me. If I didn’t break away from the reclusive lifestyle I had adopted after the death of my wife and daughter, I would die a lonely, bitter man.

Taking a deep breath, I shook my head, blocking out all thoughts of death—mine and my family’s.

“No. You’re not going down that road again,” I said aloud. “You are alive and grateful for it.”

It was a self-talk therapy that my grief counselor had taught me to use. At first, I had been reluctant, feeling a little ridiculous, but it worked. Misery and despair were not fun. They were a sucking abyss that had left me begging for my own death, and I just didn’t want to feel like that anymore. I had made the decision to live again, and picking up my teaching career was the first step.

Stepping behind the desk, I ran a hand nervously through my graying black hair and took another deep breath. I was a young by professor standards at the age of thirty-four, but I felt much older. Before my life had been torn apart, I had been a successful man with a bit of a cult following. I was young and handsome, and the young people who flocked to my class hung on every word I said. My fellow teachers called it a combination of natural charm and my youthful good looks. The students could relate to me.

Fast forward to today, and I wasn’t so sure I still had that same appeal. Grief had changed me physically and emotionally. I wasn’t in great physical shape. Not like I used to be. I hadn’t dived in who knows how long. The lack of physical exercise had made my body soft in places it used to be hard and sculpted. The grief diet had prevented me from packing on the pounds, but I didn’t feel strong, or physically confident like I used to.

There were lines around my eyes, and my black hair had more of a salt and pepper look now. I didn’t care enough about what people thought about the gray now peppering my hair to dye it. I preferred people take me at face value or not take me at all.