Love, Redefined: A Contemporary Romance Novel (Love Lessons Book 1) Read online

  Love, Redefined

  Brynn North

  Copyright © 2020 by Brynn North

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Other Titles by Brynn North

  Love Lessons Series

  Love, Game (January 2021)

  East Village Christmas Novellas

  Under Wraps

  Christmas Crush (November 2020)

  Connect with Brynn

  http://brynnnorthwrites.com/

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  ABOUT BRYNN NORTH

  Christmas Crush

  1

  My phone rang, and I glanced down at my watch to see who was calling. Shit. I sighed and hit “accept” knowing that if I didn’t do this now, she’d just call back over and over to make sure I’m not dead.

  “This better be good. I’m checking out at Target,” I greeted her.

  “Oh God, don’t look at the security cameras at self-checkout. They’d make even Heidi Klum look like an old hag.”

  “No shit. So what’s up?” I tried unsuccessfully not to look at the camera above me, now that she had mentioned it. I grabbed my receipt and started weaving through the busy afternoon shoppers, heading toward the door.

  “Nothing. Just wanted to hear how the b-day celebration planning was going,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me, but appreciated the gesture. As much as my best friend had tried over the years, she and my boyfriend never really hit off, and they more or less settled on tolerating each other. However, I was grateful they both loved me enough to put their feelings aside, mostly. And as much as I hated being hundreds of miles away from Vi, I secretly thought it made things a little easier sometimes.

  “Had to give some lady who grabbed the last package of birthday napkins I wanted ten bucks so I could buy them, but other than that, going well,” I said, placing my reusable shopping bags in my trunk.

  I could almost hear her eyebrows lift through the phone. “You paid off a woman to buy birthday napkins? Ones she didn’t even own?”

  “It’s a special birthday, Vi,” I defended myself.

  “I didn’t say anything,” she said innocently. Too innocently.

  She didn’t have to say anything, though. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Shane had completely forgotten my birthday several months ago, only remembering when he came home from work late to see me sitting on the couch in my nicest dress. The one that cost me over three hundred bucks on sale at Nordstrom that I hadn’t even worn yet, with a mostly empty bottle of self-celebratory wine in hand. He was full of apologies, of course, but at that late hour, the only restaurant nearby to order from was Chipotle. I ended up celebrating my birthday with chain restaurant nachos. At least I splurged for the guac that day.

  “He works hard,” I defended Shane. “And he’s more into birthdays than I am.” It was true. Shane sometimes forgot birthdays, and, well, other things, but he was generous and funny, and in our ten years together, he had treated me well in other ways. Like the time he saw a bright blue Louis Vuitton handbag and surprised me with it, knowing I’d love it. I wasn’t much for brand names but loved how he thought of me.

  “Uh-huh.” Her silence hung in the air for a second, then luckily she didn’t go any further. “So, what’d you get him for his birthday?”

  I buckled my seatbelt and breathed a sigh of relief that the inquisition was over. “Fancy cufflinks. A book he’s been wanting to read for months. But the main present is a surprise dinner tonight at Aquais.”

  I had spent all day getting ready for Shane’s birthday, with balloons shaped in a big 3-5, expensive custom cufflinks from Neiman Marcus I thought were a little over the top but he’d love, and fancy breakfast pastries for after we slept in tomorrow morning.

  Vi let out a low whistle. “How’d you get reservations there without a first-born child to sell?”

  I shrugged even though she couldn’t see me. “Paid a bot to snag tickets the second they went on sale.” Between what I paid for the bot service and the cost of the tickets to the second-best restaurant in the entire country, it wasn’t going to be a cheap dinner. But Shane had been working so many late hours, I figured he deserved it. I saved up months to afford it, foregoing my favorite croissant place down the block and new shoes, but when Shane walked up to the door tonight, it’d be all worth it.

  “I gotta go, okay?” I started my car.

  “Okay, but tell me all about it. Every last mouthful. And send pics at each course,” she demanded. Vi loved food, and I knew I’d be dead if I didn’t comply.

  “Promise.” I clicked off the phone. Two hours left to get home and make his birthday surprise absolutely perfect.

  Several hours later, I was beaming. All the money, all the effort, all the timing - totally worth it just to see the contented look on his face.

  “Love,” Shane declared, “This was the greatest meal of my life so far.”

  My smile grew even wider, though I usually hated it when he called me that nickname. It’d be cute under most circumstances, but he knew I cringed at my last name, Love, and all the jokes made at my expense over the years. I brushed it aside though, delighted he liked the meal so much. However, given the cost, it should be the best meal he’ll ever have in his entire life.

  “We still have the dessert course to go.” I couldn’t wait. According to the Yelp reviews, this was going to be the best part.

  “Should we order a glass of champagne to go with it?” Even though we were several glasses in, because of the wine pairings, I nodded more than a little tipsily. This was his birthday, and if that’s what Shane wanted, then that’s what he would get. I barely even winced when he ordered us a round of Veuve Clicquot, knowing each glass would set me back another thirty bucks after tax and tip.

  I glanced around the impeccably decorated restaurant with dim lighting. Everything about this place screamed luxury, down to the cream leather chairs that molded to my body, statue in the middle of the expansive floor, and cream linens on the wall. Usually, I’d feel ridiculously out of place here. This was Shane’s type of place way more than mine, but the wait staff had been so incredibly nice and engaging that I was at home immediately. Shane, who often hit amazing places with his colleagues after work, was right. Chicago did have a lot of places I’d enjoy if I got out of my comfort zone of our local bars around the corner from
our beloved apartment in Wicker Park. But Shane’s long hours in finance often kept him at the office until dark. Usually, by the time he got home, I had long shut off the computer on the latest freelance editing gig I was working on and was indulging in a little Bravo. Putting on makeup and heels at that point seemed like a lot of work.

  Just then, the waiter came by and started creating our dessert. I gasped as he expertly designed an entire edible work of art in front of us, right there on the table. Spoonfuls full of delicious looking fruit pudding or chocolate were smeared artfully on a massive platter. Meringue crumbles appeared, as well as crystallized sugar decorations. In the end, our table looked like it should be featured at the Art Institute of Chicago. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out this place consulted their top art curator before designing the dish. I wanted to pick it up and frame it myself.

  “Oh yeah, baby,” Shane said with a clap of his hands. “Can’t wait to tell the guys at work I got to eat here. Rob’s been trying to get tickets for over a year now.”

  I watched him spoon the last drop of chocolate into his mouth with a little smile. Seeing Shane’s enthralled face made the four-figure tab I spent on this meal worth every penny.

  During the Uber ride home, I snuggled up under his arm. I had often joked that his five-foot-ten height was a perfect fit for my five-foot-four frame. Just tall enough to fit under his arm nicely, yet not too tall to need to use my tiptoes to kiss him.

  “Have a wonderful birthday?” I asked, searching his face, the same one I’ve admired for over ten years. His sandy blonde hair and blue eyes were as familiar to me as my own. In the dark, I couldn’t make out the freckles on his face that I loved so much, but I knew where each one was.

  I first had laid eyes on Shane during freshman orientation at college at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. He was the leader of my orientation group and had three years of college experience on me, while I was a naïve young girl right out of her parents’ house, located in a sleepy neighborhood in Minneapolis. Immediately enthralled, I spent almost three years trying to bump into him on campus. Finally, I managed to get his attention when I not-so-accidentally ran into him at the coffee shop located near his grad school, and he asked me out while we were waiting for our drinks

  He gave me a little kiss, jolting me out of memory lane. My hand, which was resting on his chest, started sneaking downward, getting him ready for the second dessert of the night.

  Briefly, I dared to hope maybe tonight would be the night. The night he officially proposed. We had discussed marriage over the years and even had a conversation where we agreed we were more or less engaged. That was over a year ago. During the conversation, he had promised me a ring ‘soon’ and it hadn’t happened yet. We had been together ten years, and we’ve hit every milestone he wanted to get settled in life. Finished graduate school, a good trajectory in his job, the whole works. I had been hinting heavily in the last several months because his timeline was almost up, and Shane had let me know the hints hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Shane reached his head down and kissed me, a meaningful kiss. I grinned and snuck my hand down even further. Things were looking more and more like this could be the night.

  “Best birthday ever. We’re going out with a bang.”

  Instantly, the four glasses of wine and one of champagne evaporated as I sobered up immediately as my mind screeched to a halt. The words, and the wistful tone he used, set off every alarm in my body. My stomach suddenly had a thousand butterflies in it, but this time I wasn’t excited about anything. I didn’t know how it knew, but my gut, currently tied up in a knot, told me it wasn’t just a casual sentence.

  “Out with a bang? What in the hell do you mean, out with a bang?” My stomach heaved, just asking the question.

  The look on Shane’s face told me that, as drunk as he was, he immediately knew he’d said the wrong thing.

  2

  “Can we not talk about this now?” he hissed in a low voice.

  “Uh, you don’t just drop a bomb on me like that and tell me to wait,” I argued. He said it when my hand was on his dick. Unbelievable. I mean, sure, there were two layers of pants and boxers between my hand and the dick, but still. “What the hell do you mean ‘going out with a bang’?”

  “Please,” Shane demanded in the same low voice that made my stomach drop just a moment ago. “Not in front of the Uber driver.”

  Involuntarily, we both looked at the Uber driver, who gave her best effort to not look totally engrossed in our conversation.

  Damn it, so there was something. I spent the next three minutes and forty-two seconds of the ride before our driver reached our building trying not to erupt, which was freaking hard to do when all I felt like doing was throwing up. I vowed to give the driver an extra good tip and a five-star rating for knowing when to shut the hell up.

  We rode the elevator in silence, but the second we were through the door, I went off. “What in the hell did you mean by ‘go out with a bang’?”

  Shane, as many glasses of wine deep as he was, sighed and headed to the fridge. Cracking a beer, he offered it to me. I shook my head, and, without even asking, he filled a cup with ice and water and handed it to me. That relieved me more than any glass of water ever had before in my life. He knew me; I knew him. This was just some misunderstanding, wasn’t it? He knew I liked my ice water with extra ice.

  “I want kids,” he blurted out, interrupting my thoughts.

  I stared at him, my hand gripping the water glass so tightly it threatened to shatter in my hands.

  “You want what?” I gasped.

  No. Shane couldn’t be asking me that. The one thing we both agreed we wouldn’t have, the one thing I couldn’t give him.

  No. I must have just heard him wrong. That was it. We were just drunk, and this was a silly little misunderstanding. I went almost weak with relief at the idea.

  He raked his hand through his hair and sat down on the couch, seemingly more sober than I had given him credit for. “I want kids,” Shane repeated, staring at the floor.

  I blinked. Guess I had heard him correctly.

  “And when did you come up with that idea?”

  Shane and I had never wanted children, not in all the years we had been together. One by one, we had watched friends get pregnant, move to the suburbs, and raise a family, all the while happy it wasn’t us. We had toyed with the idea, leaving the conversation open for a few years, until about five years ago when my doctor informed me my irregular periods, mood swings, and hot flashes were adding up to one thing. Premature ovarian failure. Early menopause.

  We had talked about our options when we found out, in a conversation full of halting voices and tears, but Shane seemed more concerned about me than anything else. Concerned with how I felt and supporting me through all the changes my body was going through for the next few years. At the time, I had never felt more loved.

  “Well, that takes care of that decision for us,” Shane had kissed me back then. “I don’t want to put you in any harm. We’ll spend our extra time and money on the beach, drinking margaritas instead.”

  Since then, not one word was breathed about us having children. Not even after the many times his mother called to harass him to start a family had he wavered. At one point, after she had resorted to asking him if he really wanted to have a future with an infertile woman, he stood by me by cutting her off for a full six weeks until she begrudgingly apologized. For going on ten years now, we had agreed babies would not be part of our lives. We planned our entire future around not having kids. Living the whole DINK lifestyle. Got informally engaged with that agreement.

  And now this.

  “When did you decide you wanted babies?” I demanded, betrayed. “Was your mother after you again?”

  Shane didn’t answer, and I had my answer. That woman. She was the type to be nice enough to your face and bite you behind your back.

  Shane leaned back on the couch, beer bottle forgotten on the coffee table.
I noticed he didn’t even bother to use a coaster. Great. Now I would have to deal with wet circles on the nice teakwood on top of my fiancé - wait - almost fiancé wanting something he knew I couldn’t do.

  “It wasn’t only her. It’s been on my mind a lot.”

  “Oh?” I mocked, in a tone that no relationship counselor would approve of using. Too fucking bad. The pure, unaltered hurt was rendering me unable to do anything else, act any way else. “Since when?”

  “The high school reunion,” he said simply.

  Fuck. I breathed in sharply at the mere mention.

  Every five years, Shane’s prestigious private high school put on a reunion for all graduates. I despised the event, which mostly seemed like an excuse for people to humblebrag about how great they were doing in life. But Shane wanted to go, using it as an excuse to visit his family and see old friends, maybe even network for his financial firm. I couldn’t argue with that. So a few months ago, I forced fake smiles as I drank cheap wine out of Solo cups and made small talk with wives of his classmates I’d never see again as I listened about their latest fur coat or diamond upgrades. I had smiled politely while I wondered why they couldn’t even splurge for mid-grade wine with all the money that seemed to float around in that room. It was my version of hell, but I made it through, with the only redeeming grace being Shane and I collapsing in our hotel room at the end of the weekend, giggling to ourselves about how grateful we were to be out of high school and living our best life in Chicago, with weekends full of shows, restaurants, and museums.