Breathe Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Epilogue

  Breathe

  Copyright © 2017 by Sonnie Wolf.

  All rights reserved.

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system recorded or transmitted, in any for or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.

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

  Cover Design and Formatting: Freya Barker with Rebel Edit & Design

  Cover Photography: Shauna Kruse with Kruse Image and Photography

  Cover Models: Kristen Lazarus-Wood and Matthew Hosea

  Proofreads: Tandy Proofreads

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Dedication

  To my tribe: The Bad Ass Bitches.

  Lisa, Danielle, Maria, Jessica, Arell and Sophia. The six of you are such a big part of my writing life this year. Without even trying, you all push and encourage me. Your advice, good vibes, recommendations and continuous laughter keep me going. We have all the success ahead of us. We are all better than Okay. I love you, bitches.

  For G-ma Eva. I love you more than words can ever say. You are my angel and the inspiration behind everything I do. I miss you.

  Preface

  “Take a deep breath, Gracie, and just breathe.”

  After my mom died Grandma Evelyn told me this. She would repeat the phrase to me constantly.

  Great advice to give to a nine-year-old girl. I didn't know then how important that one sentence would be to me. It has carried me through my adolescence and into adulthood. I repeat the mantra to myself daily, sometimes hourly.

  Every day I say it to myself. Every day I live it.

  I grew up taking care of my Daddy and four brothers. It was what I had to do to keep the family unit going. I learned in that time that people change when certain events happen. Some for the better and some for the worse. I try to see the best in everything and everyone, but by human nature, that doesn't always happen.

  The real me loves her family. Has a small group friends. Is a homebody. Reads romance novels. Swears. Eats shit food. Is addicted to movies from the nineties. Loves being a girl. It's a controlled life filled with protective brothers and possessive friends. This is the life I know.

  I love this side of life.

  Unfortunately, this is the public me...

  “Grace this way!” Flash.

  “Give us that perfect smile!” Flash. Flash.

  “Who are you wearing?” Flash.

  “Over here Grace!” Flash. Flash.

  “Who are you here with?” Flash.

  “Look over here!” Flash. Flash. Flash.

  Sigh.

  The public me always smiles. Always puts on a facade of loving being in the eye of the masses. Always says the appropriate things, but doesn't always get photographed in the best light. A photograph can reveal a thousand wonders to any person looking at it. It's all how the viewer interprets it. I hardly ever get interpreted correctly. I'm seen as a rich girl. A spoiled girl. A party girl. An heiress to the Stratton wealth.

  Life’s not fair, right?

  I’m the third generation in one of New York City’s elite families. My Daddy is president and CEO of Stratton Enterprises. The company consists of all media outlets, a magazine, a modeling agency and an ad agency. TIME magazine calls him one of the greatest media moguls of our day. His father started the company with only radio and television and Daddy made it what it is today. With a family like mine, you can imagine the attention it’s brought me.

  Most of my “friends” come and go. Only a few strong ones survive. It’s like survivor, rich kid edition.

  I hate that.

  All I want is a calm, comfortable, easy life.

  Is this too much to ask?

  Probably.

  Absolutely.

  Patrick, my man, hasn't exactly been the pillar of strength I expected him to be. He can't seem to stay put long enough to hold much of a conversation with me these days. I'm not sure what's going on with him, but it's really starting to piss me off. We've been together for seven years, and in that time, we've grown accustomed to what is expected of us as a couple. We do everything together. We do everything right. We do everything in the public eye. He grew up with this life too, so it's only natural for us to be together. We fit.

  For the last few weeks, he's been absent to a few functions we were supposed to attend together. He's also missed several dinner parties with our friends. My apartment has been void of him at night. Lately he's been staying at his place saying that it's closer to work.

  We work in the same building, jackass.

  I know what you're thinking. I’m thinking it, too. I'm just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but I can't ever get him alone long enough to talk about it. And when we're together we’re usually around other people. Lots of them. Ah, the life of a socially elite couple.

&
nbsp; My glass house that I’ve build so carefully has been intact for quite some time. I’m careful and strategic with how I keep it up. It’s had some cracks but my family fills them in and keeps the glass firmly in place. One day, though, this house will fall.

  The calm, comfortable, easy life I crave is moving further and further from my grasp.

  Grandma knew that taking a breath was easy.

  The hard part is to just keep breathing.

  Chapter One

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Patrick?”

  “It’s just not working for me, Bunny. I think we’ve been growing apart. We’d be making a mistake if we went through with this engagement.” He has a slight smirk, almost mischievous looking, plastered across his stupid face. I want to smack it right off of him.

  Standing at the double glass doors that lead out onto my balcony, all I can do is stare. I stare at nothing in particular; the buildings surrounding me, the skyscrapers across Central Park, the grey sky and setting sun in the distance. Nothing takes shape, nothing has color, nothing has meaning. I’m not sure of anything right now. The one thing I thought I was sure of wants to leave my life. Tears are streaming down my face like a waterfall. Duritz, my black and tan, ten-week-old Yorkshire Terrier, is pawing at my ankles begging me to pick him up.

  I don't.

  Patrick gazes at me with his perfectly cut blond hair and piercing blue eyes, looking all Ralph Lauren model and frat boy. He’s not telling me something. I can feel it.

  I don’t understand this. I’ve poured seven years of my heart and soul into this man, this boy. This God damn boy that is cutting my heart out and eating it as a snack for his protein fix.

  I’m stunned. I’m confused. I’m angry. I’m paralyzed.

  I’m paralyzed!

  I can’t move. I’m going numb. Is this what it feels like as you fall into a slow, agonizing death?

  When did I become one of those girls?

  I know when; five freaking minutes ago when this dumbshit decided to end our life together. I should kick his ass, and then kick my own ass for falling apart like a weak little pansy.

  Breathe Grace.

  “Talk to me, Bunny,” he says from his laid-back sitting position on my plush, oversized, white sectional couch, his left ankle over his right knee.

  He's not wearing socks. Why is he not wearing socks? Only douche-bags don't wear socks in the fall. Where are his fucking socks?

  “You haven’t said anything. Talk to me.”

  “You’re not wearing any socks.” I whisper.

  “What?”

  His voice knocks me out of my inner ranting. I shake my head slightly to gather myself.

  “Our engagement party is in two days,” I whispered not looking his way. “I just don’t understand this. Have I done something wrong? Has something happened?” A light bulb goes off and it suddenly dawns on me. I lift my head to take a peek at him then snap it back down and shake it again. “Has Daddy done something?” I start to play with the lily charm on my bracelet.

  He takes a loud, deep breath, sucking the air in between his teeth. After a short pause, he stands and slowly, yet cautiously, stalks towards me. I instantly turn to him with my head still down, tears still falling like little drops of weakness.

  “Well...” He puts his right hand under my chin and lifts my head to meet his gaze. “You see...” He’s stalling. He's too flaccid to tell the truth. He's a complete and utter idiot.

  “I...We...”

  “Enough of this.” I swat his hand away from me. “Just say it, Patrick.”

  He inhales a small breath and readies himself to unleash the blow.

  “There’s someone else.”

  The words hit me in the stomach like I’ve been sucker punched.

  This is like something out of a movie. Nausea starts to stir down in the depths of my belly. I grab my stomach with one hand and lean on one of the glass doors with the other. I think I’m going to throw up. I need to sit down. I break away from him and his stupid face and make my way to the shorter end of the “L” shaped sofa. After falling onto the cushion, I bring my knees up to my chest and throw my arms around my legs to hug myself. Duritz jumps up to snuggle next to me. He pushes into the small space between my thighs and my stomach.

  I stare at my hands that have a death grip on my legs. Gah. The ring. The five-carat platinum princess cut Harry Winston diamond ring. This cliché ring. What am I supposed to do with it? As much as I hate this showy piece of crap, I love that Patrick picked it out himself and gave it to me. At least I think he picked it out himself. For all I know his stuck-up mother did it for him.

  So many emotions are running through my head. Do I yell? Do I stay mute? Do I run? Do I stay? This has obviously never happened to me before. Patrick is the only boyfriend I’ve ever had. He’s the only boy I let in my heart, let in bed, let in my crazy life. My Daddy and brothers accepted him, which is rare for any of them. He took it all and held it close and now he’s ready to throw it back at me like he never wanted it in the first place. Like it all meant nothing to him.

  I know I may seem a bit dramatic, but...

  SEVEN FUCKING YEARS!

  After a few moments of sitting in silence, yelling inside my own head, I say the first words that come to mind.

  “Is she worth it?” I whisper in a hoarse voice. “We’ve been together since we were seventeen. How can you do this?”

  “I don't know. This all has happened so fast.” He looks at me with regret, or is it pity? What a dick. I hate that he always looks at me like I’m a wounded bird that needs to be held at all times. I may be living under the watchful eyes of my Daddy and four brothers, but I know how to handle myself. I’m a big girl and I wear big girl panties. Sexy, expensive panties. To act like a weak Daddy's girl in public is for show. I am a Daddy's girl, but I still make my own decisions. Most of the time, anyway.

  “Fast. Really? Fast is the Thai delivery from down the street. This...this is just a surprise I never wanted.”

  He takes yet another deep breath. I hope he hyperventilates.

  “We met on a shoot and really hit it off. We started texting and calling and it eventually grew into something more emotional. It just happened, Bunny. I didn’t go looking for it. It just happened.”

  Just happened, my ass.

  Something about his tone is off putting. Almost condescending.

  “How long?”

  “How long, what?” He snaps back.

  “How long have you been seeing this girl?” I ask, still not able to look at him.

  “She's a woman, Bunny.”

  “Pfft. Whatever.”

  “We met about six or seven months ago.” He speaks as though this is not a big deal.

  “Holy shit!” I scream, now staring straight at him, past all the bull and directly into his cheating heart. The beast has come out of me and wants to beat the crap out of this boy. “You mean to tell me that when you got down on one knee in front all of our friends, you were seeing her? Christ, does she have a magic pussy?”

  “Enough,” he growls at me.

  Oh, Hell no! He does not get to call when it’s enough. I do. And he does not get to growl at me.

  I rise and stand directly in front of him. Blue eyes to blue eyes. Blonde hair to blond hair.

  The bitch is back and she has claws.

  “Tell me more Patrick. Tell me all about this thing you have going on with her. Tell me about how when you were with me you were thinking about her.” My tears have stopped. Anger has set in. I lunge at him and pound on his chest with my fists. “How could you do this to me? How could you do this to us?”

  He wraps his arms around my body and smirks down at me.

  He fucking smirks.

  “You disgust me!” I spat out as I wiggle my body free and push from his unloving grip. I walk away from the living room, picking up Duritz on the way, and move toward the kitchen. I need to get away from him. Far, far away from him. I know he doesn’t like that I’m tu
rning away. He has a hard time when people walk away from him. But I don't give a flying monkey what he thinks right now.

  “Her name is Amelia.” He sounds angry. He doesn’t deserve to be angry. “And yes, if you really must know, she is worth it. She wants to be around me. She makes time for me. She tells me she loves me constantly.”

  I stop in place. “She loves you?” I ask softly biting the inside of my cheek to stop myself from showing my crazy.

  “She doesn’t choose work or her friends or her family over me. She doesn’t choose anything over me. I love her, too.” He pauses, clearly not expecting himself to say that. “And most of all Gracie, she doesn’t come with a...” I know what he’s going to say, but he stops himself from saying it.

  “Come with a what, Patrick?” I spit out through my teeth as I stand stock still with my hand on my puppy as if he is my only handle on sanity. Which, at the moment, he is.

  “A family like yours, Bunny.”

  I knew it.

  “A family like mine?” I snap. Uh oh. Here comes the crazy.

  I spin and face him. Reaching down to my foot, I slide one of my Manolo Blahnik's off and hold it in my hand. “So, this is my fault? Your cheating is my fault? Or is this my family’s fault? Which is it Patrick? Who’s to blame? It certainly isn’t you, right?” I hobble a step closer to him and raise my voice with every question, pointing my shoe in his direction like a weapon.

  He holds his hands up as if in surrender. “Listen. You’ve been busy getting ready for fashion week and doing things for the family for the last few months, Bunny.”

  “Busy? You know what I’ve been dealing with. Fashion week happens every year, Patrick. Don't blame fashion week.”

  “I thought proposing was the right thing to do to keep you. It’s what William wanted me to do,” he blurts out.

  “Oh. I see” I say in a bit calmer voice. “So, because you think Daddy wants you as a son-in-law, you proposed?”

  “Well...” He sounds ashamed, “yes.”

  “If Daddy asked you to stick your thumb up your own ass would you do that too?” I say as my volume once again increases.

  “Bunny.”

  “NO!” I throw my shoe at him. I hope I didn't hurt the shoe. He ducks and it lands somewhere behind the couch. “Don’t Bunny me. This...this thing,” I shout, throwing my hands in the air like a crazy person, “is not my fault. This is not Daddy’s fault, or my brothers, or anyone else's. This is all you. If you want to end us for her, then fine. You'll be a Goddamn cheater. And if you don’t, then I have no idea what to do with you.” I’m trying my hardest to bring the crazy back. Turning, I make a path toward the hallway that leads to my bedroom. I'm sure I look ridiculous hobbling with only one shoe on, but at this point, I don't give a damn.