Promise to Marry: Promises, #1
By Jessica Wood
3.5/5
()
About this ebook
**USA TODAY BESTSELLER**
This is not your cookie-cutter childhood best friend love story.
We were best friends since as early as I could remember. We grew up together. We were next door neighbors. We shared each other's deepest secrets. When I was thirteen, we made a pact: if we were still single by the time we were 30, we'd marry each other.
Today was my thirtieth birthday. I was single. I knew he was single too.
But we were no longer best friends, and a part of me knew that he hated me.
This is book one of a three book series. Books two and three will be full-length novels.
Book Two: Promise to Keep
Book Three: Promise of Forever
New Adult Contemporary Romance **Mature Content** Recommended for 17+ due to mature language and adult situations.
Jessica Wood
Jessica Wood writes contemporary romance. While she has lived in countless cities throughout the U.S., her heart belongs to San Francisco. To her, there’s something seductively romantic about the Golden Gate Bridge, the steep rolling hills of the city streets, the cable cars, and the Victorian-style architecture. She loves a strong, masculine man with a witty personality. While she is headstrong and extremely independent, she can’t resist a man who takes control of the relationship, both outside and inside of the bedroom. ;) She loves to travel internationally, and tries to plan a yearly trip abroad. She also loves to cook and bake, and—to the benefit of her friends—she loves to share. She also enjoys ceramics and being creative with her hands. She has a weakness for good (maybe bad) TV shows; she’s up-to-date on over 25 current shows, and no, that wasn’t a joke. And it goes without saying, she loves books—they’re like old and dear friends who have always been there to make her laugh and make her cry. The one thing she wishes she had more of, is time.
Read more from Jessica Wood
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Book preview
Promise to Marry - Jessica Wood
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul - and sings the tunes without the words - and never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
PROLOGUE
When we first met twenty-three years ago, I had hated him.
You look like Pippi Longstocking!
That was the very first thing he’d said to me. He’d flashed me a boyish grin as he pointed to the pigtails my mom had braided for me that morning before I had said goodbye to her.
I’d stuck my tongue out at him in protest as I followed Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom into their house—my new home. I had known instantly that I wouldn’t like this boy. He was mean, he was a bully, and he sure wasn’t going to be any friend of mine.
Well, at least that was what I had thought that day when I moved in with Aunt Betty and her husband. But, like so many other things I’d thought throughout my life, I had been wrong.
Somehow, despite my resistance, he’d chipped away at my stone-cold seven-year-old exterior and won me over within a matter of just a week. I’d discovered that he wasn’t mean after all. He wasn’t a bully, either. In fact, somehow, without even knowing how it’d happened, he had quickly become my friend—and not just any old friend—he had become my best friend. My confidant. My constant. My anchor.
We’d been inseparable as we grew up together, spending hours in his treehouse, talking and laughing until Aunt Betty would call me into the house for bed every night.
And even in one of my darkest hour when I was thirteen—when I felt the most lost and alone, when I purposely drove everyone, including him, away—he had been there, by my side, to comfort me. He had been my rock and had refused to be ignored or pushed away.
That was the day we had made our pact: If we were still single by the time we were thirty, we’d marry each other.
I had known even then just how lucky I had been to have him in my life. I had loved him the way best friends loved each other. But it wasn’t until I had lost him that I had realized just how much I’d love him—how much my love for him went far beyond friendship. It wasn’t until we were no longer friends that I had realized that he had been my one and only love all along.
But by then, it was too late. I had screwed up. I had ruined everything. I had done something that was unforgivable. And a part of me wondered if I had enjoyed it. So how could I possibly ask him to forgive me when I couldn’t forgive myself?
Now, twenty-three years after we’d first met, we were both thirty and single, but I knew that it was he who now hated me.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
Promise?
I looked into his rich, emerald eyes—those eyes that always had a way of making me feel at home.
Promise.
He beamed at me and squeezed my hands as we secured the love-lock onto the bridge railing and locked it in place.
He pulled me into his arms and whispered in my ear, You’re my best friend, Clo. You won’t ever have to worry about being alone. I promise that I’ll always be here for you when you need me.
A splendid mixture of bliss and comfort spread through me like a warm blanket on a cold day as I sank into his inviting embrace. Despite everything that’d happened in my life, I felt hopeful. Because I knew that no matter what the future held for me, Jackson would always be there. And for me, that was enough.
Here’s to your thirtieth birthday,
he said playfully as he finally pulled away.
And yours too,
I added.
Well, not exactly.
He paused and grinned—that same boyish grin from the first day we met, the same boyish grin I’d come to know so well in the past eleven years, the same boyish grin that made my heart soar with happiness.
What do you mean?
I feigned a frown, knowing too well he was being a smart-ass.
Well, seeing as I’m eight months older than you, our pact won’t start when I turn thirty.
He chuckled smugly. So I’m rooting for your thirtieth.
Jax.
The sound of my own voice woke me from my dream. My eyelids felt heavy as I tried to open them and keep them open, battling against the inviting weight of sleep. Finally, I gave in and closed my eyes again, a part of me hoping I’d drift back into that memory from years ago, a memory that seemed as vivid as if it’d happened just yesterday.
But it was too late. The dream was gone. I couldn’t return back to that moment in time—back to that moment with him.
I opened my eyes, drawing in a long inhale of breath as reality set in. Today was my thirtieth birthday. The big 3-0! I’d always thought that when this day finally came, I’d somehow feel different. I thought that this day would feel meaningful, that somehow a magical switch would turn on inside me and I’d have it all figured it.
I was wrong. I didn’t feel any different this morning than I had the night before. Nothing had changed. I was still working at my boring administrative assistant job at a law firm, living in a tiny studio apartment in a shitty neighborhood in downtown Los Angeles, and getting by, paycheck to paycheck. This wasn’t how I had envisioned my life to be at thirty. Because he isn’t in it, a tiny voice said inside.
Feeling a bit frustrated with myself, I kicked off the comforter and walked to the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
You’re being ridiculous, Chloe,
I said out loud to the reflection that stared back at me from the mirror above the sink. You’re overreacting. You don’t have a miserable life. In fact, it’s pretty damn good. You just had a weird dream and now you’re being irrationally nostalgic.
I splashed some more water against my face, trying to wake myself up so I could think clearly. Drawing a deep, labored breath, I looked back into the mirror and spoke again, but this time I spoke as if I were trying to persuade someone off a ledge. That’s all in the past. You can’t change it. You can’t. The only thing you can do is move forward. You have a lot to look forward to.
I grabbed a towel and patted off the water from my face. You’re right,
I responded back to my reflection and flashed a resolute smile. I have so much to be happy about. I’m thirty and I have a wonderful boyfriend who makes me happy and takes care of me.
Just then, as if in support of my positive thinking, my phone started ringing. It was Carly.
"And I have a new best friend, and here she is now."
Feeling a lot better than moments ago, I grabbed my phone and answered it.
Hi, Carly,
I said cheerfully.
Before I could stop here, Carly’s musically-challenged voice came through the phone as she sang me Happy Birthday
off-key with such confidence, you’d think that was how all people sang the song if you hadn’t known any better.
I burst into a fit of laughter. Thanks for that. I really needed a good laugh this morning.
"Hey, everyone loves my incredible off-pitch renditions of songs. I’m simply giving them the