Good Intentions

  Volume Three

  By

  Ana Balen

  Cover design: Veronique Poirier

  Editing: Zulfa Cupido

  Formating: Sean Hurdle

  Published: Ana Balen, Zagreb 2020.

  Also by Ana Balen

  Wishing For A Star

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07DGM7TQ5/

  Good Intentions Volume One

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07QK3Z73R/

  Good Intentions Volume Two

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07ZQKLRMV/

  Never Too Late (part of Christmas Wishes box set)

  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07XXJPMW9/

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About The Author

  GOOD INTENTIONS VOLUME THREE

  Prologue

  Dear Mr. Thompson,

  Please accept this letter as my formal notification that I am resigning from my position as an executive assistant with Thompson Inc. effective immediately.

  Thank you so much for the opportunity to work in this position for the past year. I’ve greatly enjoyed and appreciated the opportunities presented to me to learn and better myself as a professional, and I’ve learned a great deal in preparing the reports on the stock market all of which I will take with me throughout my career.

  Unfortunately, as I am not going to be able to stay the two weeks that are necessary to wrap up my duties and train other team members, I’ve filled Beth in, and she knows what needs to be done. As for team members, I know I am leaving them in capable hands, and have no doubt that my replacement will have the knowledge of how to do so.

  I wish the company great success and I have no doubt that it will, and to you Mr.Thompson, I wish all the happiness in the world.

  Sincerely,

  Heather Turner

  Chapter One

  Nick

  Eight months later

  I sit at the restaurant table, the whiteness of its tablecloth searing my retinas. The noise surrounding me and the smells coming from the kitchen not doing anything for my non-existent appetite. For the last eight months, I’ve focused solely on one thing. Getting Heather back.

  After I said those awful words to her and she left my office not even looking back, I was determined to be the best husband and support to my wife, Claire. Only she had other plans.

  I won’t lie, I wanted my marriage to survive. I wanted to try and be there for my wife, I do love her after all. But my love for Claire is nothing compared to the flame that burns inside me at just the mere thought of her; my pretty girl.

  As always when thinking of Heather, I can’t help it and I reach inside my suit jacket, in the inner pocket and pull out a folded paper. Sighing, I unfold the paper and put it down on the table next to the manilla envelope that’s sitting near the edge. My fingers instinctively swipe over the words typed in the letter, somehow hoping that I’ll be able to feel her. But, as always, I never do. The ghosts of her fingertips are taunting me nightly, moving across my skin. Her lips whisper across my neck and the soft wind of her breath tickles my chest. It’s so vivid; the feel of her, that most nights I end up waking in a sweat, reaching across the bed for her. As always, all my fingers feel is cold. The bitter cold that now lives inside of me. I can still see her beautiful eyes filling with tears the moment I hurled that question at her. Still can feel her soul breaking as she kissed me one last time, and the foul taste of heartbreak that appeared as I watched her close the door behind her, won’t leave my mouth. It was only a few days later that I discovered the letter on my desk. She planned to leave me. I have no idea what drove her to that decision, but I knew I had to do everything in my power to get her back. I didn’t know how I would do that since I still had every intention of staying married to Claire, I just knew I couldn’t leave it that way.

  But I couldn’t find her.

  She vanished.

  Every day it got harder and harder to live without her. It was only when Claire said she wanted to get a divorce that I started breathing easier. The next day, I left the apartment and checked into a hotel. A week later, I found my new home, the one Heather and I will be living in. It’s close to Claire’s, so that Ben can come over any time he wants to. All my fears regarding Ben, and me losing him proved to be false. God, I was a moron.

  How could I ever think that I would lose my son if I divorced his mother? There is no way in hell I would ever let that happen. Fortunately, I didn’t have to fight Claire for him since we decided to share custody. He even asked Claire to bring him to me on a few nights when it wasn’t my turn and she gladly did.

  “Hello, darling,” Claire coos from behind me.

  Her hand squeezing my shoulder as she reaches down and pecs my cheek. I jolt in my seat as if electrified and hastily fold the piece of paper that has become both my comfort and the thing I hate the most in this world, and put it back in my inner pocket.

  “No need to hide that from me, Nick,” Claire says as she rounds the table and sits down.

  She doesn’t look at me as she slowly puts the cloth napkin on her lap, or as the waiter comes to our table and pours her water in a glass.

  I look at her as she looks up, smiles gently to the man and whispers, “Thank you.”

  Her long brown hair is now platinum blonde, cut in a sharp bob, or so she tells me it’s called. Her brown eyes have the spark back in them after being extinguished for so long, and she stopped hiding the freckles that are dusting her cute nose. She has found herself. She’s confident in who she is, and she has grown up and taken responsibility for what she’s done. She’s one of the most beautiful women that I ever seen. Still, all I want is Heather.

  “Do you have the papers?” Claire tilts her head to the manilla envelope sitting near my elbow.

  “Yes,” I say curtly.

  We have a good enough relationship that we don’t tear each other’s throats out when we meet, even though, the bitter taste of failed marriage is still lingering. No matter who’s fault it is. But that’s about to end.

  “Have you signed them?”

  “No,” I watch her as she casually puts the cloth napkin on her lap.

  You would have thought this is just lunch between two friends and not one where a marriage is about to vanish. But, I know her and I need to be sure she is okay with this.

  “And why is that, Nick?”

  “Claire,” I start to say something, I don’t know what, but stop when her hand flashes out across the table and she snatches the envelope.

  “Sign the damn thing, Nick,” her voice is quiet. “I promise you, I’m okay,” she squeezes my hand, begging me to believe her. “And I’m going to stay okay.”

  I don’t say anything, just nod my head and pick up the pen. Looking down, the word DIVORCE glares at me but I don’t read any further. I flip through them and sign my name next to the little colored arrows.

  “Thank God,” Claire mutters when I scribble my last signature.

  Taking them from me, she signs her own name and puts the papers back into the envelope. For the first time in a while, I’m able to take a full breath.

  “I’ll send that to our lawyers as soon as we’re done here.”

  “You seem excited to get rid of me,” I say dryly.

  “No, I’m excited to get you out of this weak streak you’ve been wallowing in since that girl left.”

  “Heather,” I say out of reflex.

  “What?” Claire asks tilting her head.

  “Her name is Heather,” I repeat, my voice stern.

  For some reason that brings a smile to Claire’s face. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing, just the fact that after eight months I can see a glimpse of the man I know you are,” Claire teases.

  I realize she’s right. I have been wallowing, just going through days like they meant nothing. Rolling in self-pity for losing Heather and convincing myself I’m a dutiful husband even though we decided to get divorced and I moved into my new apartment six months ago. I can’t help but feel repulsed by what I have become.

  That’s not me.

  At one point I was prepared to risk everything, to lose everything, just so I could be with Heather. When the first hurdle presented itself, I was reduced to my knees and sent the woman I love on her way. Why? I could say I have a clean conscience? Just so I could say I did everything in my power to save my marriage and help my wife? Even though said wife wanted to divorce me? Goddamnit, am I really that weak? Fuck, no. I’m Nick Thompson and as history shows, if I want something, I stop at nothing until I get it, and Heather is what I want.

  “I see the wheels have started to turn in that brain of yours,” Claire says matter of fact while looking over the menu.

  “Hmm…,” I just hum, picking up my own menu from the right side of the table and opening it.

  “So, when are you going after her?” Her brown eyes twinkle over the deep-red rim of the menu.

  “As soon as we’re done here,” I say and turn to flag the waiter down.

  I’ve lost too much time on my own stupidity. It’s time to rectify that. It’s time I man the fuck up and go get back what’s mine.

  “I love you,” Heather whispers the words as if she’s hoping I wouldn’t hear them.

  Her breath tickling my chest as her head moves slightly on my shoulder, her fingertips tickling my abdomen.

  “I love you too, pretty girl,” I mutter my own confession.

  She doesn’t acknowledge that I said it back, in fact, she goes on like I said nothing.

  “My mother called again today.”

  “Yeah?” I ask, waiting for her to carry on.

  She mentioned her mom several times already but never gave any more information, just that she called.

  “Yeah.”

  “And what did she say?” I take a chance and ask.

  I want to know everything about Heather, crave it. But, she never gave up any information. In fact, we don’t speak of our lives beyond the moment we’re in together or at work. The few times I shared about Ben or my life, she visibly started to shut down and soon after she made up some reason for her to leave.

  “Nothing since I didn’t answer the phone. I never do,” she’s distracted; looking as her fingers glide across my skin. And as much as I enjoy it and want her to continue, I want to know what is lying behind this melancholy in her tone.

  “Because of what she did,” is her cryptic answer.

  “And what did she do?” My whole body constricts while I wait for her to answer. The horrible things that come to mind are too much to bear. I don’t know what Heather went through in her short life, and I don’t know how I will react if she says them out loud. Still, I want her to tell me. I want her to be honest with me. To believe I can and will protect her from everything. I want her to need me as much as I need her.

  “The same thing I am doing now,” she mutters.

  “What?”

  She doesn’t clarify. Instead, she pulls up on her elbow and looks down on me, her hair falling over her face and down my neck and chest.

  “Pretty girl,” I whisper as I tuck her hair behind her ear. I don’t get it.

  “We need to stop doing this,” she whispers, her eyes seem to absorb me. “But, not tonight. Tonight, there’s no tomorrow,” she says those words almost every night, and every night both of us pretend to believe in them. That this is only one stolen moment in time and it won’t happen again. And when tomorrow does come, we do it all over again. As her words slip out, foreshadowing my doom, her fingers draw down my gut and she takes hold of my cock.

  “Pretty girl,” the moment I feel her fingers squeeze I can’t help but let my need for her come out in the form of a growl.

  “Shhh...As I said, Nick, tonight there’s no tomorrow,” she leans down and kisses me, my lips opening immediately, letting her tongue in.

  I let her explore my mouth and my cock a little, but as soon as she straddles my thighs and I feel her wetness coating my skin, I'm done playing. Rounding my arms around her, I flip us and come to hover over her. Goddamn, she's beautiful, and she's all mine.

  "You're right, pretty girl, for now, there's no tomorrow,“ I say and even though I know down to my soul I should make her tell me everything, I lean down and start losing all traces of sanity in her.

  I reach out and am met with cold sheets.

  "Heather?" I mumble rising my head, the dream is still vivid in my mind. When the only answer I get is darkness surrounding me, I flip onto my back and pull the satin sheets with me.

  "Fuck," hissing, I squeeze my dick over the sheet trying to chase away the phantom feel of Heather's wetness coating it. Only to enhance the feeling when the satin is fused to my skin.

  “Goddamnit,” I hiss trying to stop my hand from squeezing the blood from my cock going up and down at the same time. But, after that one movement the vision of Heather looming above me, her naked chest just mere inches from my face, and her small, seductive smile, the one she used to have, right before she kissed me, makes saliva pour into my mouth.

  “Fuck it,” I mumble into the darkness and surrender to my starved imagination.

  The last time I jerked off, my every move was tracked by Heather’s hungry eyes. I can see her licking her lips, waiting for me to let her come to me and suck my dick. I can almost feel her short nails digging into my thighs, stinging my skin. Suddenly, the image of her transforms into one that I had the pleasure to witness months ago when I caught her in my shower.

  “Dear God,” I mumble as my hand surges up and down my cock and throw my other arm across my eyes.

  She was exquisite. The silhouette of her body shown through the steam of the shower, her hand between her silky thighs, her other one fondling her tits.

  “Nick,” I can still hear her moaning my name in the false security of a steam-filled bathroom.

  “Pretty girl,” I groan into the cold bathroom as the white streams coat my abdomen.

  “Fuck,” I breathe when I look to my left half expecting to see her waiting for me, crossing her legs restlessly.

  Chapter Two

  Heather

  I inhale the crisp air then sigh contently, snuggling more into the comfy chair. Looking around, I can see people do the same as we all collectively drink up the first spring sun rays on the terrace of the restaurant. It took me a long time to get to this point. The feeling of contentment. Eight months to be exact.

  After resigning, I took the offer Mr. Matthews offered me, moved to a new apartment and focused only on work for the first two months. It was that or completely lose my mind. Every day was torture to wake up and go into the office. I would reach across the bed looking for Nick, but only the cold morning air greeted me. It’s funny how after only a handful of nights spent with him next to me, I became so accustomed to him being there. It felt that everything and everyone around me was moving forward and I stood still. Waiting. Waiting for something that would never be mine. And one day Mr. Matthews had enough of me going into the office in the crack of dawn and leaving close to midnight. I had no other choice. If I didn’t, the loneliness and emptiness that resided inside would kill me.

  He decided to put a stop to it by asking to join him for lunch. It became our regular routine. Every Monday he would take me here to eat and ask about my father, my friends, my life. He once tried to talk about my abrupt decision to leave Thompson Inc. but he must’ve seen something on my face as he changed the subject.

  “Heather, my darling girl,” Mr. Mathews calls for my attention.

  “I’m so sorry, sir,” I shift in my seat trying to hide the fact that I was once again headed down the road that ends up in my tears.

  “No apology necessary, my dear,” Mr. Mathews says with a small, gentle smile on his face.

  When the smile that he usually has for me slips from his face, every cell in my body braces for impact. I just know something is going to strike me and it will not be good.

  “I know you don’t want to talk about this, Heather. But I have to ask,” the man that I have come to know to be strong as a mountain hesitates and takes a sip of water that’s been sitting on the table in front of him. When he places the glass back on the table and does nothing but stare at it, I gently prompt him to continue.

 

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