Unspoken Vows, Book 1 of the Heartbeat Series

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I sat on the couch with my eyes on the back of a woman who had changed so much since the day she moved here almost two years ago. Meg had intrigued me, teased me and loved me before I ever took notice of her as more than just an assistant or a fantasy. My eyes bore through her sweater imagining her layers of scars beneath the chenille, reminders of the assaults of her past. As long as she was with me, no one would ever touch her in a vile manner again.

While her healing started months ago with the assault that almost killed her, I predicted that the unleashing of herself from the past, by burning up that book and the demons it contained, would become the epiphany to her new life. Meg stood there in silence, no tears no sighs—just silence—so I read the page she handed me.

Written by a sixteen-year-old, Megan had grown up too fast and had dreams that she had worried would never come true as long as her family held the reins to her future.

“What I Really Want To Do With My Life”

Marry Alex Corwynn

Give him all the children he wants

Go to London and watch the guards change at Buckingham Palace

Write a book and get it published

Learn to play the piano

Be beautiful like Christie Brinkley

Find Billy and make sure he’s safe

Have a golden tabby cat and name him Dandelion

Leave home and never come back

Amazed at how much she had done thus far and how much she had yet to do, I laid the page on the couch and sauntered to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and drawing her body against mine. I wondered if she wrote that in that cave while smoking cigarettes with her Walkman in her ears when she ditched school that day. While I wanted to give her all of the things on that list this week, this moment, this hour, I knew she didn’t need things. Megan needed love. We stood there in silence for a half hour, just staring into the flames.

Meg met the top goal on her list without really trying and could have aggravated me like other fans did to their idols, but I sought her out. The rest was just a bonus. We went through a lot together and took care of each other as if we were husband and wife although the vows were yet to be spoken. For better and worse, richer and poorer, in sickness and in health, until death we do part.

“Talk to me,” I whispered. My chatterbox was too quiet.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s go to bed.”

“I don’t deserve someone as good as you,” she said as I led her by the hand out of the great room and up the staircase.

“You’re wrong, Meg. You deserve someone who will love you, and I want the job. Say you’ll marry me and let me always love you.”


“No, say it. Say that—”

“I’ll marry you and let you always love me.”

Meg sealed her promise with a kiss and then I took her upstairs and made love to her until the early morning, knowing that once the baby came, whole nights of lovemaking wouldn’t come but once in blue moon, so I had to take my time now. Tonight I loved her like there was no tomorrow, but a lifetime ahead awaiting happiness and joy. She already knew sorrow. Now it was time for joy. What Meg had hoped for had come true. Meg’s wish for a husband and a family had come true.

Certain that Meg would run the foundation before the year’s out, I decided that it was time for her to step out into the limelight and take credit for her work. Meg had sat in the shadows shackled to her past for too long. Now the world would know what I already knew about this woman with her newly found freedom. My Meg was the persistent optimist whom I loved.


In Loving Memory of Vincent Marriotte Jr., and George Michael, the loves of my high school years that I lost on the same day. I will always love you.

Works Cited

[1] Alanon Preamble and [2] Alanon Closing. Alanon Family Groups. Alanon Guidelines: The Shared Experience of Alanon and Alateen Members, Meeting on Wheels, G-22. Virginia Beach, VA: 2014. Print.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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