I am going to die.
I can’t change or fix it.
It is just something that is bound to happen.
I have fought for so long that all I want to do is give up, but I can’t because I have a sweet, devoted husband.
I have a sister, who I am deathly afraid to leave behind because I am all the family she has left.
And then there’s Maximilian Grant—the ex that I can’t seem to shake or get rid of.
I want to remain a warrior, but when what’s left of my life is tested, and my love becomes a jumbled up mess, all I can think is one heart shattering thing.
How can I leave this world peacefully knowing not only is there one man that would die for me, but two?
4 stars
Review by Lisa Kane
Shannon Hales Streeter is dying. She has Onyx Pleura Disorder and is slowly fading. She's been confined to a hospital bed and is tired. Tired of treatments, tired of hurting , tired of trying to do what her husband and sister what her to do-fight. She's married to the sweetest man, John, a reknowned chef who is giving up his whole life for her. Instead of creating innovative, unique dishes he sits at her bedside. Shannon wants him to go back to work, to learn to live a life without her, because sooner rather than later he's going to have to. She was given eight months and five of those have already gone by. While she is getting experimental medicines, only a lung transplant could save her. She's been on that list for a long time-but her chances of surviving the surgery are slim and that hurts and chance of her getting a donation. That and the fact that a specific part of the lung is necessary and must be a match. She's long given up any false hope for a last minute reprieve.
Besides matching blood types, there is a certain section of the lung that has to be taken in order for it to be replaced. We are on a long waiting list. It's been years. I've given up hope.
She and John have been together for a few years. They both had similar crappy childhoods and their mutual trust issues bonded them. Shannon worked 3 jobs when she was a teenager to support her sister Sonny and herself. Her mother was too busy dealing drugs and her father had overdosed leaving them with nothing. It was John who helped picked her up, especially when she was diagnosed on their honeymoon. His love is all encompassing; even if it is a bit controlling. It is John who refuses to let Shannon give up-he will carry enough hope for both of them.
"I want you to move on! Forget about me and this fucking hospital already! We both know I'm not going anywhere. Well, actually, no. I take that back. I'm eventually going somewhere: deep in the dirt."
John wasn't the only love that Shannon had-four years before her heart was swept away by Max Grant, a bartender who worked at the same club as Shannon. Theirs was a passionate affair, but doomed. Their break up shook Shannon to her core and she had to make herself move on. Max is aware she is sick-she made sure he knew he had to leave her alone; her husband is the one who she will rely on. Max lost that right a long time ago.
But Max is back and wants to see Shannon. She puts him off; what good can come of seeing each other again. She's married and she owes John her loyalty. But Max is relentless when he wants something and he wants to see Shannon; talk to Shannon. Eventually she gives in and Max is once again part of her life. Max could not be happier, Little Shakes is back in his life.
"Little Shakes?" I breathed.
"Yes."
"What does that stand for?"
"The way you shake those hips to the music when you whip up those drinks..."
John and Max could not be more different. John is grounded and stable and utterly devoted to her. Max is like quicksilver; he draws the crowd and is fun and light. Maybe both men bring the balance to the equation-one is yin the other yang. But one can't have two loves so who wins and who gets hurt?
"But I don't get it...why you never tried to find someone else, I mean. You knew I was marrying John, but you were persistent."
"I wanted to win you back. Guess I just didn't have the best of luck."
"What made you stop trying so hard?"
This is a beautiful story about a woman who is more than aware of her own mortality and her regrets. But don't be lulled into thinking that you as a reader are going to know how this story ends-I doubt you will see the twists and turns coming. Does anyone ever really know what life holds for them, even when that person is dying?
That's what we as people should hold onto; the joy we shared. The life we created. The countless memories. Because those memories can be powerful, and they can last infinitely.
“I will give you one night. But only one, Max,” I said, holding up a single finger. “And we have to go to a place that I really want to go to.”
“Alright,” he sighed, running a hand over the top of his head. His hair was wavy, like dark ocean waves. “You name the time and place.”
“Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock at Craves on West 5th.” I stepped back, tucking my hair behind my ear. “And please,” I said over my shoulder as I turned away, “don’t be late.” I gave him a faint smile. To me, this was a game of cat and mouse and he’d finally caught me but he hadn’t tried to eat me just yet. I had to tamper with his ego. Get under his skin just a little bit.
Only… it didn’t work.
The legs of his stool screeched across the floor, creating an obnoxious noise. Max hopped off the stool, catching me before I could make a break for it out the back door. I spun around, landing between his warm, bulky arms, breath catching, my lips parted as I met his warm brown eyes.
His olive skin, up close like this, looked like it was made of satin. I wanted to touch his face, trace my fingertips down his firm, chiseled jawline. But I held back.
“You think you’re fucking with my head, don’t you?” Max asked quietly, his voice a murmur beneath the music.
“Not at all,” I challenged.
“What made you give in?”
“Nothing. I just think I owe you this much…”
He frowned. “You don’t owe me shit.”
“I kinda do…”
“You don’t owe me anything, Little Shakes. You don’t have to do this. I’m not forcing you.”
“Whatever,” I said, deliberately maneuvering out of his arms and pulling my satchel on top of my shoulder, “it’s just one night. Can’t do too much harm, right?”
Max scoffed, which made me frown. “Shakes, when I’m done with you, you’ll be begging for more than just one night.” He stepped forward, holding onto my wrist and reeling me into him. I clashed softly with his rock-solid body, my head tipped up, our eyes bolting. “I don’t fuck around,” he said, leaning forward to place his lips near the shell of my ear. “I want you. Bad. And now that you’ve given me this chance, I’m going to make it the best night of your fucking life. I am going to make sure this one night turns into infinity.”
I could hardly breathe. I heard every word and believe me when I say my panties were beyond wet. I was drenched for him and he’d hardly touched me. His voice, so orgasmic and deep. His body, so hard and smooth and warm. So near. So motherfucking perfect. Max knew what he was doing. And I shouldn’t have tested his ego considering I hadn’t been laid up in five months.
I admit I was a little desperate for him. I mean, he was the finest man I’d been around in months, I saw him almost every night, and he was into me. Really, really into me.
The way he held me, his hand on the small of my back and purposely near my ass, exhibited more than enough proof of how much he desired me. He was silently teasing me and slowly but surely unraveling every fiber in my body.
I wondered why, however. I was the dullest girl working at Capri. And I admit I wasn’t the cutest of them all. What was it about me that made him want the chase?
I straightened up, smiling softly as I pulled away from him and walked to the door. I felt him watching me walk away, and when I looked back a hint of a smile was tugging at the corners of those perfectly sculpted lips. As I pushed the door open I casually said, “We’ll see about that infinity thing.”
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Shanora Williams is a twenty-something that creates authentic romantic stories that, may or may not, make you question what a "Happily Ever After" truly is. After hitting the New York Times and USA Today bestsellers list at the mere age of nineteen, Shanora ventured further into the creative writing world, working even harder to create unique and memorable romances for all to enjoy.
She currently resides in Waxhaw, North Carolina and is the mother of one amazing boy, in love with her devoted man, and a sister to eleven.
When she isn't writing, she's spending time with her family, binge reading, or running marathons on Netflix while scarfing down anything sweet and salty. She also writes under the pen name S. Q. Williams.
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