Destined Read online

  Destined

  Bella Emy

  DESTINED © 2020 Bella Emy

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.

  If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by the author who can be contacted at [email protected].

  Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 Bella Emy

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Preface

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Afterword

  About Bella

  Also by Bella Emy

  Follow Bella

  Preface

  It’s safe to say that this is by far one of my favorite stories I’ve written. That being said, this also wasn’t an easy one to write.

  I hope when you read this story, you fall just as much in love as I have with Anabelle and Grayson.

  ❤Bella❤

  Synopsis

  When a tragic accident steals my joy & my world on the magical holiday of Christmas, I’m left alone & have a hard time moving on.

  Four years later, all I want on the anniversary of my husband’s death is to spend this miserable holiday all alone.

  When my best friend surprises me with a trip to London, it couldn’t have come at a better time. I’m happy that I’ll be getting exactly what I had wished for…

  Until I run into the sexy pianist who has captured my attention from the first note I hear him play.

  Getting to know him brings a smile to my face & a joy within my heart that I haven’t felt in so long.

  But something about him is so familiar… something I can’t quite put my finger on until it blows up in my face.

  When your heart has been shattered and torn into a million pieces, is it too late to find happiness once again? Or will an unexpected encounter that was destined to occur bring on a happily ever after?

  Readers, I welcome you to Grayson & Anabelle’s story… grab some tissues and get comfortable for the ride.

  Dedication

  To anyone who has ever suffered from a broken heart…

  To the dreamers and believers…

  To second chances and millions of happily ever afters…

  To loving again after having lost…

  To the readers who believe in all the wonders the world has to offer…

  This is for you.

  ~Bella❤︎

  Prologue

  They say life sometimes has a funny way of working out, and when you’d least expect it to. Well, this statement can’t be more true for me. Never in my life would I have imagined things to turn out the way they had. If you would have told me just a few weeks ago I’d wind up where I am now, I would have told you you’re crazy. And yet, now that it’s here, and now that it’s happened the way it has, I don’t know if I could have ever imagined things happening any other way.

  Sure, there are some things I wouldn’t mind changing, such as the pain my husband felt that day, or the pain in my heart long after he was gone. However, I also believe that if things hadn’t happened the way they had, I don’t think I’d be standing right here wrapped up in my beloved’s arms at the airport.

  1

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Davidson. We did all that we could to resuscitate him. Your husband fought as best he could. We’re sorry. We tried. Sorry. So sorry.”

  Those words that have haunted me for four years echo in my head as I watch the first snowfall of the season cover the busy streets of New York City. Staring out the window of my Brownstone, I wipe away a lonely tear that has spilled out onto my cheek.

  “I miss you so much, my love,” I whisper into the darkness. I’m home alone once again. Of course, I am. I’ve been alone since Luis has been gone. It’s been four years since I lost him. Well, four years in just about a week.

  Mom has been begging me to pack up and spend the holidays back home with her and Dad back in Jersey, but I can’t bear to be around family at this time of year. Ironic, I know, but the anniversary of his death is in just a few days, on Christmas morning, no less. I have no desire and no interest to celebrate this year. After all, what am I celebrating? The stupid holiday had taken my love and my life away from me? How is it fair that my then thirty-two year old husband was gone so young? How is it at all fair that at thirty-five-years-old, I, Anabelle Davidson, am a widow?

  And it wasn’t even as if any of us had been prepared for his death; he hadn’t been sick. No. A freak accident a day before Christmas as we were on our way to work–yes, we work year round being doctors–cost him his life. The worst part? He felt the pain. All of it. He hadn’t been killed on impact as the oncoming car smashed into our champagne-colored Lexus. No. He had survived the initial hit. He had even smiled up at me as the paramedics loaded him onto the gurney as they put him into the back of the ambulance.

  I don’t remember much of what was going on around me on that day. I ended up with some scratches on my head and a broken arm… nothing I couldn’t eventually recover from. The memory is blurry and foreign of what was around me, but Luis? I remember everything about him. I do know there were people all around me trying to figure out if there was anything they could do, anything I needed, to help him. I was mad and banished them all away. One gentleman with green eyes had been nice enough to kneel down beside me, but I hardly gave him a second look. I just pushed him away as I cradled my dying husband in my arms.

  For a while, we all thought he’d make it through. But the day after, he left this Earth.

  I had been there with him as he was thrown from the vehicle. I had been sitting in the passenger’s seat. Every morning, we’d head off to work together. We had met at the hospital where we worked years ago, after getting our degrees. How ironic is it that a doctor—a surgeon, no less—can’t save his own life? And I, an obstetrician, was pretty much useless. Although, had I been a surgeon as well, I still don’t believe they’d let me operate on my own husband in the state I had been in. It didn’t matter, though. We had the best staff on board trying to save Luis. I had seen my worst nightmare come to life as he suddenly began to flatline.

  So, Christmas morning four years ago, instead of waking up in one another’s arms and getting ready to open presents, I spent it saying goodbye to the lifeless corpse that was now my husband.

  Me? A widow? At now thirty-five? What in God’s name have I done so wrong in this life to deserve this nightmare to turn into a reality? How is this my life?

  Somehow, picking up whatever broken pieces of myself were left, I went back to work three months later, only to want to run straight home. I didn’t, though. I kept it somewhat together. It was so weird, though. An emptiness like I had never known before washed over me. The looks and stares from my co-workers not knowing what to say to me made me want to immediately disappear. I felt as though I couldn’t do it. How could I go back to work at the same place as before? Everywhere I’d look, everywhere I’d turn, memories of Luis and I smacked me right in the face. To say it was horrible is an understatement.

  The only one who had brought m
e any type of solace at all in this whole situation was my gay best friend, Gary. A nurse at the hospital, Gary always knows what to do or say to bring the smallest of smiles upon my face. Thank God for Gary. I love him with all my heart.

  And now, fast forward to a week before the anniversary of my beloved’s death, I don’t know what I’m going to do. How can I spend the holidays anywhere–whether it be at home alone like I had been planning, our home, the one we built together, or with my family? It all hurts the same. My family adored Luis. My brother’s kids and wife will all be at Mom’s this year, and that’s just something that I don’t think my heart can stand. Don’t get me wrong. I love Dylan, his wife, Amber, and their five-year-old twins, Linus and Lincoln, but I just can’t do it this year. It hurts too much to fake a smile and see everyone so happy. I mean, I know they won’t be insensitive to my feelings or anything like that, but still. Do I really want to ruin their holiday? If I’m being really and truly honest with myself, I just want to be alone. That’s what I’m destined for, after all. Why would God take my baby away if I wasn’t meant to spend the rest of my days desolate?

  I push away from the window ledge and am about to raid the fridge for that bottle of pink Moscato I had been saving for tonight when the blaring ringtone from my cell phone sounds. I race to see who it is and am pleasantly surprised I’m already hearing back from him so soon.

  I wrap a mousy-brown strand of my wavy hair around my finger as I hold the phone up to my ear with my other hand. “Gary! How the hell are you, sweetheart? How was Aruba?” I hope he can hear the smile in my voice instead of the tears I had just cried. I am so happy for him, though. After a horrible separation from his first love two years ago, he had met the man of his dreams, and they had just been wed a week ago. Aruba had been where they’d had their honeymoon.

  “Giiiiiirl, it was fab-u-lous!” he emphasizes the word. “I can’t begin to tell you how much cock I got! From on top, from below, from the side… oh, it was wonderf–” Instantly catching himself, he says, “Fucking rhino-saurus-rex nuts… I’m sorry, Ana. That was truly insensitive of me. Forgive your favorite diva?”

  I laugh. I imagine him with his pouty lips, as he always does when he has a moment like this. His comment hadn’t even bothered me at all, though. If anyone deserved true happiness after the way his ex had left him, it was Gary. “Please, sweetie. I’m fine. I’m glad to hear you had such a great time. Can’t wait to see you when you get in on Monday.”

  “Don’t count on it, sweetheart,” he announces.

  I furrow my brows and shift my weight from one foot to the other. “What are you talking about? You’re not coming to work on Monday?” I move my cell phone away from my ear momentarily to check the date. Yeah, I was right. Gary was scheduled to be back on Monday.

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll be there… you, on the other hand, won’t, honey.”

  “Huh? What are you talking about?” I have no idea where his head is at, but he certainly must be confusing our schedule for the week.

  He lets out a deep sigh before continuing. “Okay, look. I wasn’t going to say anything over the phone, because, hell-o! This is my surprise to you, girlfriend! Think of it as sort of a Christmas gift from Kyle and I.”

  Before I have a chance to intervene and tell him I’m not interested in Christmas or the presents, he says, “Now before you chop my balls off about how you feel regarding this time of year, I promise you I have your best interest at heart. I know how you’ve been feeling about Christmas without Luis. I know it hurts, and I know exactly what you need, my dear bestie.”

  I smirk, but honestly, I don’t like where this is going. “Gary, I’m sorry, but I can’t accept any gifts, not now. I’m honestly just thinking of traveling north for a few days and locking myself up in a log cabin in the woods. Maybe I’ll get snowed in…”

  Maybe, I’ll get snowed in and die from starvation…

  “No, sweetheart. You’re not going to any silly log cabin in the crappy woods of America. You, girlfriend, will be on a flight to London in, oh, about twelve hours.”

  My eyes widen. “What? Gary, what are you talking about?”

  “I booked you a trip to London, all expenses paid. All you need to do is pack a few things, and you’ll be on your way to the good old UK for two weeks.”

  I plop down onto the couch. I definitely need to sit down for this. “You’re joking, right?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing right now.

  “Girl, I’m as serious as much as I would drop my pants for a night with Channing Tatum. Kyle won’t mind… he can join in for all I care. I just want a taste of Channing’s Tatum.”

  I let out a fit of giggles. I’m not at all surprised by his revelation. Gary has been in love with Channing Tatum for as long as I can remember.

  “I can’t go to London… work, remember?”

  “Please, sista girl, you know your girlie already took care of it with Connington.”

  Connington, the big boss at work.

  “I honestly don’t know what to say,” I reply, turning toward the DVR box on the television, indicating it’s just after six in the evening. That means, this so-called flight he booked will be taking off at 6 a.m.

  He chuckles. “Nothing. Don’t say anything at all. Go pack. Call your mother. Tell her your best friend has given you the best gift you could have ever asked for right now. I really think some time away with new scenery will be beneficial for you, girl.”

  Maybe Gary’s right. Maybe a little time away with nothing to bring reminders of Luis would be good for me. Honestly, what do I have to lose? I have nothing to look forward to here. It would be spontaneous, to say the least. I have never done anything so impulsive before.

  A tear escapes from my eye, and I wipe it away with my left hand. “Gary… thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Gary understands my pain. He saw me wither away and pretty much die when I lost my husband. Slowly, I came back to life, but a part of me—a big part of me—never did. Going to another country to spend some time away from it all sounds amazing. I think this may be a great thing.

  “Please, don’t mention it, sweetie. I’ll stop by your house in a little while and drop off your tickets and your hotel reservation information. I love you, sista girl.”

  “I love you, too,” I say, sniffling.

  We hang up the phone, and I just continue sitting there for a moment, going over the conversation we had just had in my head.

  “A trip to London, to get away from the horrible day that has been haunting me.” I take a deep sigh, place my cell phone on the couch beside me, and run to my bedroom to begin packing.

  2

  After being on a plane for almost seven hours, I arrive in London. The large city is beautiful with buildings and culture wrapping all around me. I take a moment to breathe in the European air and smile as lights and Christmas decorations are draped from side-to-side.

  Red double decker London buses line the streets. A pretty, light layer of fresh fallen snow covers the sidewalks. The crisp air feels so good against my bright red flushed cheeks.

  I pull out the piece of paper Gary had given me last night with his handwriting on it, scribbling the name and address for my hotel. I don’t know why he didn’t just text it over to me. I guess because he figured he would be dropping off my tickets anyway, he might as well.

  The hotel I have reservations for, Comfort Ben, is just ten minutes away, and I decide to use the GPS on my phone to walk the few blocks. It is going to be amazing to see and tour all these new sites. I laugh a little while I think of the name of the hotel, but once I walk up to it, it all makes sense: Comfort Ben is located right across from Big Ben.

  “Wow,” I whisper to myself in awe as I take in the large monument. I had always wanted to come visit London. Luis and I had been planning a trip for the summer, but unfortunately, we had never made it. He had died that winter right before we were meant to go. I look down at my phone and his bright smile illuminates the screen. I smile, my heart bre
aking just a crack more all over again. This is a bittersweet moment. I am finally here in London, where I had wanted to travel to for as long as I can remember, but Luis isn’t here with me. “One day, when we’re reunited again, we will travel here together, just you and I.”

  I kiss his face on my screen before quickly stashing my phone back in my front pocket and then begin walking toward the hotel.

  I head inside, and immediately, I’m left speechless. This hotel is beautiful with all the trimmings and embellishments, and I’m sure it cost Gary and Kyle a pretty penny. The lights and intricate detailings of the establishment leave me in wonder. Looking around some more, I see a ton of tourists busy scurrying around. A soft melody plays on what sounds like a nearby piano, setting the mood they’re hoping for. It relaxes and soothes the soul, but with all the visitors in a rush, it doesn’t help much. Still, it’s nice to hear.

  Bell boys help patrons with their luggage toward the elevator doors to get to their rooms. Three female front desk clerks talk with people checking in or out for their stay. I get in line behind a tall redheaded woman and then turn around to take in my surroundings once more. My eyes automatically land on that very black piano where the music had been coming from. I look but only see the top of the man’s head who is making the beautiful music fill the room.