Page 31 of Savannah Sweethearts

“You get to be our stepmom!”

She hugged Sami close, and my daughter buried her face in Ashley’s neck. Saffi sat with me and studied her sister. She must have decided Ashley wouldn’t bite because after a moment, Saffi joined her sister in Ashley’s lap.

“You ready for all this, Ashley?” Mom laughed from her chair.

She put one arm around each girl and laughed. “Absolutely. I’ve dreamed of nothing else.” While the girls played with her hand and admired the ring, Ashley looked at me and mouthed silently, “I love you, too.”

Epilogue

With the help of a professional bridesmaid (did you know there was such a thing?), I planned a beautiful wedding to the man of my dreams. Upon realizing I actually did love Tyrell, my parents came around, and my father walked me down the aisle. But I would no longer be under their thumb or dipping into their bank accounts.

Sabra had come back from her stint as a reality star and was suddenly a changed person. She agreed to letting Tyrell and me have primary custody without having to go to court. She would be going back and forth from Savannah to Atlanta, where she was trying to make it as an actress—or, at the very least, trying to get on more reality shows. It sounded right up her alley, and we got to keep the girls at least three weeks out of every month, so I was thrilled.

In fact, Sabra had apparently done her homework on Gloss Enterprises and my family. After realizing how much they were worth, she wholeheartedly blessed our relationship. I can only imagine she thought it would somehow boost her own status in the world.

When I walked down the aisle to become Mrs. Harris, I thought life couldn’t get any better. I had the man of my dreams; I had two beautiful daughters, who had started calling me Mashy (get it? A mix of Mom and Ashley), and I lived in the most beautiful city in the world.

Alonso

I’m not saying I was glad that Jennifer Marcingill left Action News, but I was glad Jennifer left. She was uptight and dull as a rock. I know that I look like a first-class jerk saying that, but really, everyone was thrilled. Just none as thrilled as I was.

As Jennifer’s cameraman and producer, I spent the last five years by her side every day. That’s eight hours a day, at least five days a week. Together we chased down stories, put together packages, and ate some terrible food. You would think we’d be close, but no. She was aloof, and I am a goof.

Still, she had tears in her eyes at her farewell party as she hugged me stiffly. She reminded me of someone’s old aunt that hugged you for no reason. I told my pal, Rex, I had only come for the cake, but I knew how to be a gentleman when necessary. I knew I needed to give the woman a proper send-off as she retired from journalism in Savannah.

When she exited the building, the real party began. People’s faces visibly relaxed and the conversation got louder and more animated. The entire floor took a collective sigh, happy to send Jennifer Marcingill off to live in Florida where she would probably never see the sun or the sand.

“What are you going to do now?” Rex, who was also a producer, asked as we both claimed another piece of cake. Well-wishers began to trickle out of the break room and get back to work or head home.

“I have some evergreens to work on until they hire someone else. And Nate is going on vacation so I’ll be filling in for him.” I scarfed down the sickeningly sweet icing. I usually avoided a lot of sugar because it made me hyper. “Want to go play a round of pool after work? This sugar will keep me going for hours.”

Rex clapped me on the back. “Aw, man, you know those days are over for me. Lil wants me to pull night duty with the baby.”

I nodded in understanding even though I did not understand in the least. “Hey, yeah. Another time.”

Plate discarded, Rex left the break room with a wave. I, too, tossed my paper plate in the trash and made my way back to my edit bay.

I worked steadily until the eleven started, then I checked everything one last time before shutting my equipment down. I stood and stretched, my muscles aching from sitting in the same position too long.

“AO! The new hire will be here next Tuesday.” My boss, Tyrell, bellowed at me as he came around the corner towards the editing rooms.

In the studio, I was known simply by my initials, AO. I never thought my name—Alonso Ortiz—was particularly difficult to say, but the nickname had been created and I answered to it easily enough, so it stuck.

I stopped and leaned on the door frame that had never held a door in my five years of being with Action News. “They hired someone already? Please tell me it’s a man.”

His pearly white teeth flashed in a devilish grin as Tyrell shook his head. “Hate to break it to you, AO. Female. But she’s young and pretty.”

I couldn’t help the groan that escaped my lips. “Young and pretty means nothing if she doesn’t know how to do the job. How green is she?”

The last thing I wanted was to work with a twenty-two-year-old girl fresh from college. Enough of them interned from local colleges and they got younger and younger each year. I had no desire to play babysitter to a little girl for a year before she moved on to another market or left to get married and have kids.

Tyrell laughed. “She’s been in the field for several years. She’s a Savannah local, been in Virginia for a few years, but wanted to come home. I think you’ll like her.” My boss raised his eyebrows.

My friends were always trying to fix me up with their cousin or their girlfriend’s sister. Just because I was almost thirty and unattached did not mean I needed to find some woman to attach myself to. It was not in my five- or ten-year plan. I planned to keep it out of my plans until I was too old for people to bother me about finding someone anymore.

I shook my head. “No thanks. Especially not if I’m working with her. At least she’s not green.”

“You packing up?”

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