THE NEIGHBOR'S SON by Rakhibul hasan (fb2 epub reader TXT) 📕

THE NEIGHBOR'S SON

THE FORBIDDEN LOVE SERIES

BOOK 1

BY

Rakhibul hasan

THE NEIGHBOR'S SON

THE FORBIDDEN LOVE SERIES: BOOK 1

Copyright 2015 Rakhibul hasan

All rights reserved.

Publis hed by Rakhibul hasan

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

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

DEAR READER

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER I

"You have got to be kidding me," I whined, groaning into my pillow while the alarm on my phone blared away. "How can it be morning already? I just went to sleep." Well, not really. I did go to bed at a reasonable hour the night before. I just didn't fall asleep until dawn was breaking. It was one of those nights when you can't get your mind to stop racing no matter how hard you try to shut it off.

Too sleepy to reach for the phone and toss it out the window, I pulled the covers over my head and tried to ignore the annoying beep. As the phone went silent, I thought about spending the morning in bed to catch up on some much needed sleep. After all, it was a Saturday a nd I didn't have to go to work. But then I remembered that I had a yoga class that morning and many errands to run that day. So I peeled my sleep-deprived body off the bed and dragged it into the bathroom.

After a long, cold shower, my body felt a little stiff but I was fully awake. Realizing I didn't have much time before I had to be at my class, I quickly slipped into my favorite black and gold yoga outfit and rushed back into the bathroom to do my hair. There, I stared at my make- up free face in the mirror, and that‟s when it hit me: I was no longer Mrs. Peter MacDougal. Even though Peter and I had been separated for over a year prior to finalizing our divorce, the magnitude of that life-altering event hadn't really sunk in until that morning when I caught my reflection in the mirror. It didn‟t even register when I signed the papers in his lawyer's office two days earlier. I guess part of me was still in denial about the whole thing.

I let out a heavy sigh while pulling my long, auburn hair into a high ponytail. A mixture of dread and fear washed over me. The word „divorcee‟ is a term I never thought I'd use to describe myself. But there I was: A thirty-two- year-old childless divorcee, alone in a house too big for one person and wondering where the last fourteen years of her life had gone.

I had been with Peter since I was eighteen years old. When I met him, I was a freshman at Boston College and worked part-time at a fancy restaurant in downtown Boston. One night after my shift, my crappy car broke down in the middle of the road and Peter stopped to help. After calling me a tow truck, he gave me a ride back to my dorm. On the way to the campus, I learned that Peter was single, worked in real estate, and was fifteen years older than me.

The age difference worried me, but Peter was so charming and confident I decided to overlook it. When he dropped me off at my dorm that night, he asked me for my number and I gave it to him. He called a week later and took me on the most romantic date I had ever been on. We became inseparable after that.

Peter and I had been dating for just a few months when he got down on one knee and put a gigantic 18-karat diamond ring on my finger. I said yes without hesitation. Many people around me told me I was rushing into things, but I ignored their warnings. What can I say? Back then, I was a naïve and inexperienced eighteen-year-old. Prior to Peter, I had never had a real boyfriend. Most guys I met back then were total jerks who were only interested in getting in my pants, or at least that's what it felt like.

Then Peter came along. He said all the right things, treated me like a princess and swore to always be faithful to me. I believed his promises, married him, and moved across the country with him. Looking back, I wish I hadn‟t done any of those things. Just a few months into our marriage, the true Peter revealed himself. He became possessive and condescending and was incapable of keeping it in his pants.

Every time I confronted Peter about his cheating, he either denied he was stepp ing out on me or promised he‟d never do it again. But he kept sticking it into anything that walked. I wanted to leave him but the naïve girl within me always told me not to. I honestly thought I could change him.

All that changed a year ago when I decided to pop in to Peter‟s office unannounced and found a half- naked, voluptuous blonde sprawled across Peter‟s desk with her legs up in the air.

Peter rabidly plunged into her until he saw me standing at the door. After witnessing that disgusting, humiliating scene, I ran home. Peter didn't even bother to chase after me. That's when I realized I had to leave the scumbag. Peter MacDougal was a philandering prick and was never going to stop being one.

Later that day, Peter came home and I told him I was leaving him. Once again, he begged me to forgive him and promised he‟d change. I refused to listen to any more of his lies and empty promises. The man had no respect for me or our marriage. That night, I made him sleep on the couch in the living room. The next day I packed all his things and hired a moving company to take them to his office. Afterward, I visited my lawyer's office and filed for divorce.

Leaving Peter was the scariest thing I had ever done. All of a sudden, I had to learn to get by on my own, something I hadn‟t done in over a decade. I have a teaching degree but hadn‟t taught a single day in my life because Peter wouldn‟t let me work. Who‟s going to hire a thirty-two-year-old teacher with no experience? I wondered. Would I have to give up the house and get a place of my own? How was I going to afford it? Would I have to move and leave all my friends behind? These were the type of questions that kept me up at night.

This past year was a pretty hectic one for me to say the least. But with the help of my friends and my very competent lawyer, I landed on my feet. I found a per-diem teaching position at a nearby private school. Even though we had a pre-nup, my lawyer got my scumbag ex-husband to agree to let me keep the house. Alimony payments were also part of the divorce settlement, but I wasn‟t exactly swimming in cash. The house, a 4-bedroom Spanish-style home, wasn‟t cheap to maintain, and my per diem teaching job didn‟t pay much. But I was comfortable and grateful that I didn‟t have to alter my lifestyle too much after the divorce.

But my finances were not the only thing stressing me out. Getting back into the dating scene had been a frustrating, terrifying experience. I have been on very few dates post-Peter. And that's because I'm very awkward in them. I just don't know how to act or what to say. After trying out the club scene a few times, I decided I was too old for it. And I won't even get into the horrifying experiences I've had with online dating. Let's just say that the last guy I met online creeped me out so much, I decided to get rid of my computer.

After the most recent disaster date, I decided to swear men off for a while and focus on other aspects of my life such as my career. I started writing a lot and spending time with friends. I also considered going back to school to get a master's degree. The last few months leading to the signing of the divorce papers were fun, productive ones for me. But I knew that sooner or later I was going to have to start dating again. Dating terrified me, but the possibility of spending the rest of my life alone terrified me even more.

That morning in the bathroom, I examined my face and body carefully in the mirror. I thought I looked decent for thirty-two. I didn‟t have any lines on my face yet which I was grateful for. I practiced a lot of yoga and watched what I ate so my body was in good shape. Still,

I didn‟t think there were too many grown, normal men out there looking to date a shy, sheltered divorcee with tons of emotional baggage and trust issues.

After I finished doing my hair, I stepped back into the bedroom to put on my running shoes. It was a beautiful, cool late spring morning. The sun was shining bright, and I couldn‟t wait to get outside. I checked the time again. When I saw how late I was for my yoga class, I began shoving things inside my bag as fast as I could. That's when the doorbell began buzzing. With my yoga mat under one arm and my bag slung over the other, I rushed downstairs.

I made my way to the front door thinking either a salesman or a Jehovah‟s Witness was paying me a visit that early on a Saturday. I swung the door open, ready to politely dismiss whoever was on the other side of it. If I didn't get on the road immediately, I was going to miss my class.

"Listen. I'm sorry but...," I said, my voice trailing off when my eyes landed on the tall glass of hotness standing on my welcome mat.

Holy crap.

My mind went blank and my pulse began to race. The man was, without a doubt, the most gorgeous specimen I had ever laid eyes on. I‟m talking movie star gorgeous. I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open. He was mesmerizing. Pretty, too pretty… and also young, not jail bait young, but young enough that I felt like a total pervert for having the thoughts I was having. Suddenly, yoga didn't seem so important. I was ready to buy whatever it was that gorgeous boy was selling.

“Hi. My name is Cade and I just moved into the house at the end of the block,” the handsome man-boy said, reaching out for my hand. A crooked grin stretched his ridiculous ly gorgeous face. I saw dimples. Sigh. I'm a sucker for dimples on a man's face. His voice was deep, gravelly, sexy as hell. I detected a bit of an accent. Midwestern maybe. I set the rolled-up yoga mat down between my legs so I could shake his hand. It fe lt calloused and rough against mine, and I immediately started to wonder how that hand would feel on other parts of my body.

Stop it, Sidney! He‟s a child for God‟s sake!

“Hi, Cade. I‟m Sidney. Sidney MacDougal. Welcome to the neighborhood,” I