Discovering Stella (43 page)

Joy
...
a feeling of delight and great pleasure. Happiness.
It’s
that
moment
when everything in your
world
is right, that
moment
when light tends to bounce off the surfaces surrounding you, highlighting the small — and what would normally be perceived
as
insignificant — elements that form part of our life. Like the shimmering reflection
on
the surface of the dam,
not
fifty
metres to
my
right. Or the white-gold diamond engagement ring and wedding band sparkling from their perfectly placed positions
on my
finger.

I smiled and rotated the rings that signified the eternal bond, promise and
love
that I shared with
my
husband, Lawson. I always rotate them,
as
a reminder that life has many directions we
can
take.
We
just have to make the conscious decision to take them. And I’d
done
just that; took a leap of faith and travelled down a path that led me to finding another
love
of
my
life.

Three years ago,
on
an
overcast yet mild and beautiful autumn
day,
Lawson and I exchanged vows in the gazebo of Pittstown
Strawberry Farm, the very gazebo I stood in
now.
Our
ceremony
had been small, intimate and romantic.
It
was fun, laid-back and unconventional.
It
was everything Lawson and I are together;
it
was perfect.

We’d
both inwardly acknowledged, then openly discussed the strawberry farm
as
the place where we had realised,
for
the first time, that we
loved
one
another.
It
was also the place where Lawson proposed.

Looking down at
my
engagement ring and rotating it, yet again, I remembered that day when he’d hidden the ring in our favourite strawberry bush and waited patiently — and arro
gantly,
mind
you
— until I’d found it.

“Make sure
you
get every berry in that bush, Princess,” he’d said, leaning back
on
his hands.

I’d fired him a
dirty
look,
thinking
the shithead was being bloody lazy.
But
he’d only heightened
my
annoyed state by
look
ing at me with a cocky smirk that, at the time, I just wanted smack off his face.

“Feel free to do
it
yourself,
Toad,”
was
my
response.

“Nah,
it’s
all
good.”

At that point, I’d turned and faced him, jaw dropped, eyes wide. He’d waggled his eyebrows in response and nodded toward the bush again.
“Quickly,
we
haven’t
got
all
day.”

I’d plunged
my
hand deep
into
the bush while keeping
my
eyes steady
on
him in a
show
of
are-you-fucking-happy-now-
arsehole, which was when
my
hand had hit a hard, slightly
furry
and cube-like shape.
It
definitely
wasn’t
a strawberry.

The confused expression I displayed
must’ve
indicated to Lawson that I had found the ring, because his face had lit up and he sat forward.
“Found
one?”

What happened next was me pulling
out
the ring box, gasping and handing
it
directly to him, only to immediately snatch
it
back and open
it
up.

“I
want to be your king and
you
my
queen,
Princess,” he’d said, reaching
over
and
taking
the ring from the box. “Marry
me.”

And, well
...
the rest is history.

Well,
not
quite.

Shielding the
sun’s
rays from
my
eyes, I searched the strawberry field in
front
of me, spotting Lawson crouched down.
He
was counting, each number
louder
than
the next, until he reached ten.

“Ready
or
not,
here
I
come,”
he yelled, standing
up.
I laughed, noticing our twenty-month-old daughter, Ella-Quinn,
not
even two metres from him
on
her
knees, bum in the air, and
her
face buried in
her
little
chubby
fingers.

“Where’s
Ella? I
can’t
find
her,”
Lawson said, loudly and with emphasised drama.

I stepped off the gazebo and jogged toward them, joining the charade. “Can
you
see her?
She’s
very good at
hiding.”

Lawson shook his head in admiration
as
he stood
over
Ella.
“No,
Mummy,
I
can’t.
I think
she’s
gone.”

She
let
out
her
adorable giggle,
my
favourite sound in the
world.

“Oh no,
Daddy.
What
will
we do?” I asked, reaching
Lawson’s
side
and resting
my
head
on
his
shoulder.

He lowered
his
voice.
“We’ll have to make another
one.”

I laughed,
but
then swallowed
heavily.
“Actually
...
we already
have,”
I confessed, dropping
my
hand to caress the spot that housed our unborn
baby.

Lawson looked down at
my
stomach, then back to
my
face, his eyes practically bulging
out
of his head.
“We
have?”

“Yes,
we have. Apparently we made
one
seven weeks ago —”

Before I could finish what I was saying,
my
husband’s lips came crashing down
on
mine. His kisses, whether soft and sensual
or
hard and passionate, always left me breathless. And this
one
even
more
so, because
it
took me by surprise.

“We’re
having another baby?” he mumbled against
my
mouth.

I nuzzled his cheek with
my
nose and pecked him
on
the lips.
“Yeah,
we
are.”

Pulling
away,
he laced his fingers and rested his hands
on
his head, the smile he
wore
totally infectious.
“We’re
having another baby?”

“Yeah,”
I giggled.

“We.
Are. Having. Another. Baby!” he shouted.
“Did you
hear that, Ella?
You’re
gonna be a big
sister.”
Lawson
bent
down, scooped Ella
into
his arms, and lightly tossed
her
into
the air before catching
her.

She
squealed with glee,
her
blue
eyes sparkling
as
her
blonde
hair flailed.
She
was
her
father’s
daughter — his carbon
copy.
She
was the light of
my
life, and
my
constant
reminder. She
was
my
little
angel
.

Standing there,
my
daughter laughing,
my
husband’s arm around me, his hand resting
on my tummy,
I realised that although I’d been lost many years ago, I’d also been found. Lawson was
my
second chance
...
my
saving grace.
He
was
my
knight in shining armour.

He
still is.

And he always
will
be.

I hate writing acknowledgments, and that has
absolutely
nothing to do with
thanking
and praising people. I actually
enjoy
the
whole
thanking
part,
not
to
mention
the bringing to light
all
the
wonder
ful
things these wonderful people have
done
during the
production
of this book. What I hate is stringing together the right thing to say
(words
that are worthy) right after
I’ve
written a
novel.

After typing ‘The End’
my
brain basically cracks
it
and says
“
blah blah,
blurgh,
pfft,
hmph,
f*@k,
do do
deedo.”
Yeah
…
it
flips
me
the
proverbial
no-more-words
bird.
So I figured that
rather
than wrestle this rude
bird,
I
would
acknowledge those I wish
to
acknowl
edge the
simple
way.
Here
goes …

Andrew:
thanks
for
picking up
my
slack.
You
know
it’s
true
love
when your man makes sure
you
always have clean underwear. xo

Blake and Brianna:
thank
you
for
looking after your iPads. They allow Mummy to write because
you
are too busy clashing with your clans to annoy me
for
food. xo

Mum and Dad: your grandparenting
skills
are exceptional.
Just so
you
know.
xo

TJ Hamilton/Snot/Baroness: I swear
you
are me … just
more
annoying.
You’ve
kept me sane in this game we
call
‘author’.
xo

Sali:
as
promised,
here
is your disclaimer — Sali did
not
con
done nor
endorse
my
use of the term
“hairy
gonads”.
In fact, Sali tried very hard to have
it removed
from the book. Sali lost. Despite our #HairyGonadWar,
you
were a godsend, Sal.
Oh,
and
thank
you
for
the live parenting lessons during our
Voxer
sessions. xo

Lauren: sincerest gratitude
for
the magnificence that was your editorial prowess during the first
draft
of
this book. In other words, Ms McKellar … your editing is the shiz! xo

Annabel, Stephanie, and everyone at Harlequin Books Australia: I cannot express
how
much of a
joy
it
is to
work
with you. Thank
you
for
allowing
Discovering Stella
to be the best
it
can
be and available to
all
who wish to read it.

My
fans and readers:
you
encourage,
you
support.
You
spread the
word,
and
you
always make me smile.
Always
!
Without
you,
not one
of
my
books would see the light of
day.
You
are the pen to
my paper.
TY
xo

Oh,
and to Colleen Hoover:
Hopeless
inspired
Discovering Stella
.
You’ll
probably
never see this,
but
you
rock and deserve to be listed
here.
So
thanks
for
the early words of encouragement when I fangirled
all
over you
like a heat rash in
my
Goodreads message. xo

And just to be safe:
thank
you to
anyone
out
there who
thinks
they belong
on
this list.
Not
sure if
you
do,
but
cheers anyway. Xo