Cracks in the Crystal Ball (Short & Sweet Collection Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2017 Sydney Logan

  Published by Enchanted Publications

  Cover design by T.M. Franklin

  Cover images by: Deposit photos @benjaminlion @ikatod @koya979

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  All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the author.

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

  All trademark references mentioned in this book, including song titles and song lyrics, are the property of the respective copyright holders and trademark owners. No copyright infringement is intended.

  When they were eighteen, a carnival fortune teller predicted that Marissa and Seth would find true love.

  They did—with each other.

  Six years and two children later, they find themselves at a crossroads, both going through the motions and wondering if the fire they once felt for each other is long gone.

  Emotional, honest, and raw, Cracks in the Crystal Ball is the first in Sydney Logan’s Short & Sweet Collection – a series of quick reads filled with sweet romance and happily ever afters.

  6:00 AM: Slap the alarm clock into submission.

  6:15 AM: Shower. Wash my hair with his favorite shampoo in hopes that he'll smell it and smile.

  6:30 AM: Get dressed. Wear something soft and tight-fitting in hopes that he'll see me and smile.

  7:00 AM: Wake the kids. Snuggle with my little boy for a few extra minutes because he’s my baby. Remember when we both used to wake the kids. I think they miss that. I know I do.

  7:30 AM: Make my husband’s favorite breakfast. Again, hoping for a smile. He helps me set the table. We move around each other without touching. Once upon a time, he couldn't keep his hands off me.

  7:45 AM: Family breakfast. Smile and pretend we are the perfect family.

  8:00 AM: Kiss the kids' cheeks and put them on the bus.

  8:10 AM: Kiss him goodbye and wish him a good day. He walks out without mentioning the shampoo, the outfit, or the breakfast.

  He never does. Not anymore.

  Every morning is the same.

  Monotonous, mind-numbing misery.

  But I love him, so I stay.

  6:00 AM: Listen as my wife slaps the alarm clock into submission. Stretch out my arm in hopes that she'll let me hold her. She doesn't. Pretend I'm sleeping while she showers. Imagine what it would be like to join her. But I don't.

  6:25: Shower. I can smell the sweet scent of her shampoo. I reach for my favorite body wash in hopes that she'll smell it and smile.

  6:30 AM: Get dressed. Crisp, white shirt and slacks. Wear her favorite tie in hopes that she'll see it and smile.

  7:00 AM: Wake the kids. Snuggle with my little girl for a few extra minutes because she’s my baby. Remember when we both used to wake the kids. I think they miss that. I know I do.

  7:30 AM: Help her set the table for breakfast. We move around each other without touching. Once upon a time, she couldn't keep her hands off me.

  7:45 AM: Family breakfast. Smile and pretend we are the perfect family. I'm so lost in memories that I can't even taste it.

  8:00 AM: Kiss the kids' cheeks and put them on the bus.

  8:10 AM: Kiss her goodbye and wish her a good day. She doesn't mention the body wash or the tie.

  She never does. Not anymore.

  Every morning is the same.

  Monotonous, mind-numbing misery.

  But I love her, so I stay.

  Six Years Earlier

  The carnival lights are bright as we walk through the maze of games and rides. It’s chilly tonight, and I wish I’d brought my jacket. Mom told me to, but like most high school seniors, I ignored her advice. The truth is I’m kind of bored and wish I could just go home. Our little country fairs just aren’t as fun as they used to be. Or maybe I’m just growing up.

  But my best friend loves them, so we’re here.

  I force a smile as Kelsie drags me from one booth to the next. I know I should try to enjoy this. It could be our last summer together. We’re both going to college in August. Different schools. Different states. The thought makes me sad, but when a school offers you a full ride, you don’t say no. Unfortunately, Kelsie’s full ride is taking her to Texas Tech. Mine’s leaving me here in Oklahoma, but not in my hometown. I’m moving two hours away to OKC. To say I’m ecstatic is an understatement. The only bummer is the fact that my best friend since first grade can’t go with me.

  “Look, Marissa! A fortune teller!” Kelsie squeals and tugs my arm.

  I shake my head as she drags me inside the tent.

  “Why do we need to pay five bucks to have my fortune read? I have you.”

  “Madam Bianca—”

  “Madam Bianca? Seriously?”

  “Yes, and she’s a professional,” she says while we stand in line. “Always good to have confirmation about these things.”

  “Sure. Because if two psychics make the same prediction, that means there has to be some validity to all this.”

  Kelsie loves reading horoscopes and thinks she can predict the future. She’s wrong ninety percent of the time, but I play along because I love her. That’s how she managed to drag me to the carnival tonight. According to Kels, I will meet the man of my dreams tonight. A guy with a black cowboy hat and blazing green eyes.

  Her words—blazing green.

  She assures me we’ll make beautiful babies together.

  Like that’s motivation. Who wants babies at eighteen?

  “You’ll see, Marissa. Now give the man your money.”

  I do what my bossy best friend says and follow her to the table with the big crystal ball. Moments later, a wild-looking gypsy walks through a beaded curtain. Big gold hoops hang from her ears and a pretty purple scarf is tied in her curly hair.

  “Ahh, Kelsie!” Madam Bianca smiles brightly. “You come see me every year!”

  I try not to roll my eyes at the thick, fake accent. It sounds like a cross between Russian mafia and my sweet Italian grandmother. It’s hard not to laugh, but I manage to control it.

  “And who is this?” she asks as she sits down. “No, don’t tell me. This is . . . Marissa.”

  For a split second, I’m impressed.

  “Wow, that’s . . .”

  Madam Bianca laughs. “No, no. I’m not that good. Kelsie speaks of you often.”

  Ah.

  “She worries about you.”

  I glance at my best friend. “You worry about me?”

  Kelsie nods. “You’re just so unhappy here. But that’s all about to change. Tell her, Madam Bianca.”

  The gypsy smiles. “Hmm. You seem so sure, little one.”

  “I am.”

  “Let’s see, shall we?” Madam Bianca places her hands over the crystal ball.

  Because I’m an idiot, I watch it carefully. I don’t know what I expect it to do.

  “I see a boy,” the fortune teller says. “He’s smart. Loves to read. Plays piano . . . no, guitar. Both. He plays both. Oh, he is handsome. He could use a haircut, but definitely a handsome young man.”

  “What about a cowboy hat?” Kelsie asks.

  Madam Bianca laughs. “This is Oklahoma, sweetheart. A cowboy hat is as common as blue jeans around here.”

  I snort.

  “Fine. What about his eyes?” Kelsie asks excitedly.
r />   Madam Bianca peers closely into the crystal ball.

  “Green. Bright, bold green.”

  Kelsie excitedly leaps out of her chair. I don’t even try to hide my eye roll.

  “You will lose your heart to this boy, sweet Marissa, and you will never get it back.”

  For just a moment, I ignore my ridiculous surroundings and think about my parents. They divorced when I was a kid. All I’ve ever wanted was a marriage that was the complete opposite of theirs.

  “Will we be happy?” I whisper.

  Madame Bianca’s face flickers with uncertainty.

  “You will love passionately and deeply, but both of you must be brave. Mistakes will be made. Beautiful, amazing mistakes. They will mold you and shape you and change your life in unbelievable ways. But they will require bravery, Marissa. So much bravery. Only in those beautiful mistakes will you find true happiness.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Madam Bianca sighs deeply. “I’m afraid that’s all I see.”

  Kelsie takes my arm. “Thank you, Madam—”

  “Wait! What does that mean?”

  “Come on, Marissa.”

  In a daze, Kelsie and I walk out of the tent and into the twinkling lights of the carnival. She leads me straight to the food vendors. Cotton candy and funnel cakes. It’s been our summer tradition since we were in fifth grade.

  “What did she mean, Kels? Beautiful mistakes? What are those?”

  Before she can answer, Lee, her boyfriend, appears and swiftly lifts her into his arms. Kelsie squeals and melts against him. I sit down at a nearby bench and watch them enviously while I nibble on my funnel cake. After Madam Bianca’s weird reading, the sugar settles on my stomach like a rock.

  “Marissa, can I steal my beautiful girl for a ride on the Ferris wheel? I promise to bring her right back.”

  I nod. “Have fun. I think I’m gonna take one more walk down the midway and then head home.”

  “You can’t leave!” Kelsie says. “You haven’t met—”

  “Go ride the Ferris wheel. Call me later.”

  She looks somber until Lee wraps his arms around her and whispers something in her ear. Kelsie laughs and takes his hand before following him to the ride.

  With a tired sigh, I toss my funnel cake into the nearby trash before taking my jumbo bag of cotton candy and heading down the midway. I’m still thinking about Madam Bianca and her beautiful mistakes when I find myself standing on a makeshift wooden bridge overlooking a wishing well. Another carnival tradition, all the change from the wishing well is donated to the children’s wing of our hospital. Glancing into the water, I notice it’s littered with pennies.

  I fish in my pockets and pull out what little change I have, but before I toss it all into the water, I close my eyes and make a wish.

  I wish for a boy with blazing green eyes who will love me despite my beautiful mistakes.

  Without opening my eyes, I let the coins fall. It’s only when I hear them splash do I finally look down into the water. The silver dimes and quarters glisten among the copper.

  “Wow, it really worked.”

  Startled, I spin around and find myself staring into the eyes of a green-eyed boy.

  Not a boy. A man. My age.

  With green eyes and a cowboy hat.

  And he could use a haircut.

  Unbelievable.

  He smiles shyly and makes his way to my side. His eyes never leave my face.

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m Seth.”

  “Did Kelsie put you up to this?”

  “Who’s Kels—”

  “Or that crazy gypsy?”

  “What crazy—”

  His mouth snaps closed when I step closer.

  “You have blazing green eyes,” I whisper.

  “And you have a heart-shaped face with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.” Seth smiles at me. “I can’t believe it. This wishing well really works.”

  “What makes you think it works?”

  “Because I wished for you. And here you are.”

  Taking my hand, he lifts it to his lips and places a soft kiss against my palm. My breath quickens as desire blooms in my stomach.

  “I wished for you, too.”

  Seth smiles down at me, and in that moment, I’m lost. Lost in his eyes. Lost in his voice. Lost in the butterflies that flutter in my stomach. And I find myself saying four words I’ve never said in my entire life.

  “I have a car.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re in the backseat of it.

  “You’re gonna be my wife someday,” he whispers against my lips. “Say you will, Marissa.”

  “I will.”

  That night I lost my innocence—and my heart—to that green-eyed boy.

  And I never got it back.

  “Mr. Cross? Are you listening?”

  My secretary pulls me out of my daydream. She’s been doing that a lot lately.

  “Sorry, Jenn. What’d you say?”

  “I said your appointment is here. I also said you look like crap. Do you want me to clear your schedule for the afternoon? You might be coming down with the flu that’s going around.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “You work too much.”

  She’s always telling me I work too much. What she doesn’t understand is that I’m good at this. I’m not good at home. I’m a complete failure at home.

  I straighten my tie. “Show her in.”

  Jenn nods and walks out to the lobby. She’s only gone for a second before she returns with my ten o’clock. I stifle a groan when I see who it is, but I stand politely and offer my hand.

  “Ms. Fargo, it’s good to see you again.”

  “Seth, I’ve told you. I insist you call me Pamela.”

  “Pamela. I’m eager to hear your presentation.”

  Pamela Fargo is temptation personified. Long, creamy legs nestled in sky-high stilettos. As she stands in front of the screen and tries to persuade me to invest in her high-rise apartment complex, my mind wanders to my wife. This woman, who’s trying so hard to flirt with me throughout her presentation with her fluttering eyelashes and sexy smile, can’t even compare to Marissa.

  Later, Pamela seems surprised when I refuse her invitation for lunch at her hotel suite. She’s undeniably beautiful and undoubtedly willing, but she’s not my wife.

  I might be a failure as a husband, but I’m still a faithful one.

  After she leaves, I look out my office window and admire the view of the city. It’s a lovely day, and happy couples are taking advantage of the weather. There’s a small park across the street, so I decide to skip lunch and take a walk there instead. The cobblestone path is littered with people and pets, but they’re easy to ignore. It’s only when I sit down on a bench and notice the small wedding that’s taking place on the pier that I’m reminded that my life—and my marriage—is in complete and utter despair.

  From a distance, I watch as the happy groom kisses his bride.

  That used to be us.

  Marissa and I had fallen hard and fast for each other. Eight weeks after we met, we found out she was pregnant.

  With twins.

  We had no way of knowing if it happened the night of the carnival or one of the many, many nights after. Her father had threatened to shoot me if I didn’t marry her, but what he didn’t know was that I needed no motivation to put a ring on his daughter’s finger. I loved her. She loved me. The easiest and happiest decision I ever made was to marry the girl of my dreams in that little country chapel. We’d been married three months before she even started to show.

  Our families rallied around us, and Marissa commuted to college and completed most of her degree online while I worked during the day and went to college at night. We both graduated, and I found a job with an investment group while she worked part-time at a news station. Within a year, I was promoted to a six-figure salary, and Marissa made the decision to stay home with the twins. We bought a two-story
house with a big backyard halfway between our families and my office. During the days, Marissa nurtured our children, and at night, we had dinner as a family before tucking the kids into bed. Then, we escaped to our bedroom where we’d talk and make love until the wee hours of the morning. Each morning, I’d drag my tired but happy ass out of bed, kiss my family, and head off to climb my way up the corporate ladder.

  For years, that was our life. And it was heaven.

  Then my hours at work became erratic and inflexible, and I started getting home later and later. The sacrifices paid off, and now, I’m the CEO with more money than we’ll ever be able to spend.

  But my kids are seven years old. And my wife is a stranger.

  We don’t argue. We don’t fight.

  We don’t talk. We don’t touch.

  And the beautiful smile that I’d wished for is long gone.

  I miss my wife. She doesn’t know it, but there are nights I lie awake and watch her sleep. So many times I’ve wanted to wake her, just to see her eyes and hear her voice, but she always looks so peaceful, and I always chicken out.

  Is it too late? I’m afraid it is. I’m afraid that my kids don’t love their father because they don’t know him, and I’m afraid that my wife doesn’t love her husband because he’s neglected her for too long.

  My eyes swim with tears as I glance at the bench. There’s a folded newspaper there. I grab it and turn to a random section. A bright red ad reminds me that it’s summer, and that there’s a carnival in town.

  Have the kids ever been? They’d love it.

  Feeling inspired, I pull my phone out of my pocket and text my secretary.

  Clear my schedule for the afternoon and all day tomorrow. I’m going to the fair.

  I’m in a blind panic when the bus doesn’t stop at the end our driveway. With trembling fingers, I quickly call the school.

  “Mrs. Cross, your husband picked up the kids today,” the school secretary says softly.

  Seth picked them up? He never picks them up.

  “Are . . . are you sure?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Just then, I hear the garage door, and relief floods me when I hear my kids’ sweet laughter echo from the doorway.