Broken Love Story (Love 3)

We also do things as a family, mostly after dinner—we take walks to the park or just around the neighborhood. His hand in mine as my girls walk in front of us. With no weight on my shoulders, I couldn’t ask for anything else in the world.

I’m so lost in my train of thought I don’t hear the phone ringing. I pick it up, not recognizing the number. “Is this Samantha?” the woman asks on the other line.

“Yes, this is she.” I walk to the radio, turning it off so I can hear her.

“My name is Elaine Locke, and I’m calling from Child Protection Services.” My heart stops, and my neck gets hot. I hold the counter because I’m sure my knees will give out. “I got your name last week from a Mr. Blake Williams when we were called out for a fire at one of our foster homes.” Relief lifts off my shoulders. “He mentioned that you just moved into town and had a background in social work.”

I don’t know what to say. I’m shocked. “Um, yes, that’s right.”

“Well, we are always understaffed, and we are looking for a part-time social worker. The hours are very flexible, the pay”—she stops talking and then starts again—“it isn’t much.”

“I …” I don’t know what to say.

“Listen, I would love for you to come in, and we can maybe sit down and talk.”

“That would be wonderful,” I tell her as I wipe tears from the corner of my eyes. “When would you like to meet?”

“How is next Monday at nine a.m.?” she asks, and I take her address right away. We disconnect as soon as Blake walks into the house.

“What’s wrong?” he asks me, stopping in his tracks. His back straightens on alert when he sees that my nose is red, and I have tears in my eyes.

“I just got off the phone with Elaine,” I tell him, and he walks to the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah,” he says, grabbing a coffee cup and pouring the last of the coffee. “I met her last week and gave her your phone number.”

“Well, I have a meeting with her on Monday. For a part-time position.”

He leans back on the counter, crossing his feet at his ankles while he looks at me. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think I would be able to find it,” I tell him quietly. “You”—I shake my head—“you give me everything.”

“I just gave her your name. You have to do the interview,” he tells me, putting his cup down. “You’re doing it again.”

“What?” I smile and shrug my shoulders.

“You’re giving me that look again,” he says, coming to me.

“I like it,” he says to me. “I’ll like it even more when my cock is inside you.” He grabs me around the waist and carries me to our room, where he fucks me the whole time.

Four days later, I walk out of Elaine’s office with a smile I can’t wipe off my face. I walk to the car, and after getting in, I finally shout with glee. I call Blake right away. “Hey,” I say before he can say anything. “I got the job,” I tell him, bouncing in the driver’s seat. “I start next Monday.”

“They are lucky to have you,” he finally says softly. “How about we go down to the beach this weekend to celebrate?”

Hailey and Jensen came down last weekend to introduce Mila to her parents. It started a little awkward, but once we got over that hump, it was a great weekend.

Mila and Daisy were like two peas in a pod, with Lizzie making sure they didn’t get in trouble, which was quite often. It didn’t help that Henry gave them whatever they wanted.

“Do you think it would be okay?” I ask him.

“I do,” he says. “Let me call Hailey and I’ll call you back.”

Well, to say it was more than okay was an understatement. We ended up leaving Thursday instead of Friday so the girls would have an extra beach day. The ride was longer than I thought, and if I heard one more, “Are we there yet?” I thought I would poke my eyeballs out.

Pulling up to the house, I stare out wide-eyed. This is a perfect getaway. Hailey and Jensen walk out of the house when they see our car, then Jensen turns back and yells for Mila, who comes running out to meet us.

“So glad you guys finally got here. I swear if I heard Mila ask are they here yet one more time,” Jensen says.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Hailey says, coming down and hugging her brother first and then me. “Let me show you around.”

She takes us inside, showing us her beautiful house. The master bedroom faces the water. I watch the waves crash onto the shore, and it’s almost as if I was here before. She takes us outside. The girls run ahead of us with Mila as their own personal tour guide. “It’s beautiful at night,” she says, walking down the stairs that lead to the beach. The girls run to the water, squealing when the wave crashes and almost wets them.