The women in Brianne Montgomery’s family have a curse that compels them to marry before the age of thirty-one, and she wasn't going to be the first one to break it. Her life seemed perfecThe only thing she hated about her life was Travis Cross—her brother’s annoying best friend. Travis made a lifetime promise to take care of Brianne for the rest of his life. He promised to be her safety guy to save her from the family curse. Soon, their once hateful relationship turned into an unbreakable bond of love and friendship. However, their dependent and comfortable relationship would always be complicated because of the yearning inside Travis that craved Brianne like a drug. And Brianne struggled to stay immune to his charms. She had already lost so much, and Travis had become the most important thing she couldn’t afford to gamble with. This romance follows Travis and Brianne's lives from the age of sixteen to adulthood and how they dealt with family, teen peer pressure, marriage and breakups… all of which make up their deep and unbreakable connection: A relationship so beautiful, they’re afraid to risk it for anything… not even for love itself.
View MoreAll families have a tradition. Sometimes it goes all the way back to their ancestors in the eighteenth century. Some families only started one in the twentieth century.
I don’t know when my family tradition started. But one thing is for sure: This tradition doesn’t make a single bit of sense.
But one cannot choose the family he or she will belong to. And you cannot choose which family traditions you will end up honoring in your life.
My family has close ties. While some people can sit together at parties not even knowing they are related, I had to know each and every one of my cousins, aunts, and uncles. We have family reunions about twice a year. In between those reunions, my family engages in gossip about each other. They have the chance to confirm that gossip during the reunions.
They especially focus on the women in our family who are approaching the age of thirty. Because it means, they are almost at the finish line.
According to my family tradition, we have a curse. If one of our women is not married at the age of thirty, she is doomed to be single for life.
I thought this was complete bull. But I’ve got Aunt Rosalie, who sits at family reunions alone. She had her heart broken when she was thirty. The guy left her at the altar. Ten years later, she’s still single with no hopes of ever marching down the aisle.
We also have Aunt Mildy. Full of love, this one. So full of love, she passed from lover to lover and none of them ever wanted to put a ring on her finger. Now, rumor has it, she’s the mistress of a rich Sultan, who comes to see her once every two months. She lives a luxurious life, though. But she’s still a mistress in the eyes of her family.
There was also Theresa; she was one of my older cousins. Pretty and successful. But it was her choice to be single. She’s a lesbian and has no desire to be married to a man. So, I guess that was not really the workings of a curse.
One of our older aunts got married at thirty-two, giving the women in our family hope that the curse was just the lore our ancestors passed down to ensure the elders would always have grandchildren to dote on. But a week after she got married, her husband died. And she has remained a widow since then.
There are many stories of aunts and cousins who disregarded the tradition. I don’t know whether it was just coincidence, but somehow, they are in the family’s Hall of Shame—the unwritten list of women in our family who had tragedy or bad luck fall upon them because they disregarded this myth.
And so, ever since I was young, I have been a hopeless romantic. I read all sorts of fairy tales and love stories, hoping someday one of those love stories would come true for me. That my knight in shining armor would come to rescue me, sweep me off my feet, and rush me to the altar. I intend to marry at the age of thirty, at least one year earlier so I’m sure I’m saved.
Apart from the fear of living my life alone, childless, or husband-less, I refuse to be the subject of my family’s conversation and gossip at the reunion table. I hate it whenever the table is all abuzz and then suddenly falls silent when Aunt Rosalie or Aunt Mildy join in, and every single person at the table picks a different topic to talk about off the top of their heads.
By hook or by crook, I vowed: I would be married before the deadline! It would be a plus if my prince were handsome and capable of giving me the life I deserved. But I guess compared to the chitchat and the impending curse that would be bestowed upon me, I would much rather marry an ogre.
I have years to complete my quest. Two decades to plan my “forever” is a lot of time.
My hands were shaking. I didn’t really realize how nervous I’d been until now. My heart was pounding inside my chest. And the pain I felt was nothing like I’d felt before. I can do this. I can’t do this. No! I can do this! Pain slowly built up in my abdomen again, and I knew that from there, it could only get worse. I closed my eyes and tried not to scream. “Let’s check again,” I heard a female’s voice say, and I didn’t even know who she was speaking with. Then I felt something down there. A finger, a hand, I don’t know. And then an unexplainable pain. “Son of a gun!” I shouted, and I crushed the fingers I was holding. I could only imagine the pain I was inflicting on that person right now, and I was beyond caring. I would do anything to share even half of my agony. Instead of cursing or writhing in pain, I felt the person beside me lean forward to give me a kiss on the forehead. “I love you, cherie,” I heard Travis’s
I was looking at the fantastic view of New York from Cross Magnates’ glass wall. My pulse was hammering, and I felt that familiar heavy lump in my chest. A surge of emotions was raging inside me. I recognized the strongest of them all. Pain. I smiled to myself. I welcomed it. It was my very old friend.But I had to let it go. Along with its best friend—Anger. For years, these two had kept me company all throughout my miserable nights. But I didn’t need them now. My entire life had changed. My days were no longer cold and my nights were no longer lonely. Now, I had sunshine and warmth. Pain and anger need not be my company.I had joy and love.I had Brianne.My heart swelled at the mere thought of her name. I remembered many years ago when I was just ten years old and my best friend introduced me to the cutest girl I’d ever seen. She was wearing a white sleeveless top and a pair of lime green shorts. Her long hair
It was against Travis’s will, but I insisted on a hot bath. He joined me in the tub, and it was a glorious feeling. Until then, I still couldn’t believe that Travis and I were back together…back in each other’s arms. I didn’t need to lose him again. That finally, we’d laid down all our cards on the table, and taken off all our masks. We were starting afresh, and nothing could come between us again.I dressed in one of his pajama bottoms and shirts, which were too big for me. I had to tie the shirt in the waist area as it was big enough to be a dress.Travis’s room was huge. It had a royal bed in the center, the headboard and edges of which had elegant gold carvings. The couch set had matching carvings, and the fabric on them was lush and luxurious.“Would you like to have dinner here, or downstairs? Or perhaps you’d like to go out?”“I’d like to see the house, if that’s okay wi
I tried to breathe steadily. I opened my eyes slowly, almost afraid of what I would see before me. My dream about Tom had seemed so real, I thought I had died and he’d come to get me. I wouldn’t have minded that. I missed him. Now, more than ever, I missed the brother who had always brought the sunshine with him. God knows I needed a ray of sunshine in my life right now.But he wasn’t real. He was a dream. And in my dream, he promised I would live a long and happy life. So I couldn’t be dead. I was still breathing.When reality finally dawned on me, I realized that I was in a huge, dark room. There was light coming from the fireplace. A storm was still raging outside. A bolt of lightning would sometimes illuminate the room, followed by a bellow of thunder. I shivered even though I felt warm. I almost felt scared. And then I remembered that I wasn’t alone.I gently pulled away from the person holding me. The room that I was in was ve
My mother was ecstatic about the turnout of my exhibition. My pieces were sold out.“You were sold for fifty grand!” she told me excitedly.“What?”“Your portrait. The crying lady, as I like to call it, sold for fifty thousand bucks,” she said. “There were three bidders. But the woman who bought it meant business. Upped the price to fifty grand to eliminate competition. The rest of your pieces sold for at least ten grand. You’re going to be famous one day!”I smiled. “That’s great. But I’ll get the details of the sale later, Mom. I’m gonna be late for my flight.”I decided to go to Manhattan again. Eric had agreed to come with me. I could tell he was worried about me, too.My mother stared at me wearily. But she said, “Good luck.”I met Eric at the airport. “Are you worried about me, or are you here just to make sure I’m not goi
One night, I got a call from Eric.“Get your cute butt out of your apartment and let’s go have fun!” he said.I laughed. “Pick me up in thirty.”I smiled and then dialed Sarah’s number. “Be here in twenty! We’re going out.”A few minutes later, as I watched Eric’s car stop in front of my apartment and Sarah walk up the steps to meet me, my heart warmed up. If I could translate this into my painting, I realized, Eric and Sarah would be my first strokes of yellow.As we approached Eric’s car, he frowned when he saw Sarah.“What?” I asked him.“I didn’t know you were bringing your hump-every-stiff-pole friend.”Sarah stopped in her tracks and looked from me to him twice. And then she laughed innocently. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you referring to yourself?” she asked Eric evenly.Eric rolled his eyes. “
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