Until Next Time Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Claudia Burgoa

  Edited by: Brandi Zelenka

  Jenny Simms

  Sisters Get Lit.erary

  Shasta Schafer

  All rights reserved.

  By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on your personal e-reader.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, distributed, decompiled, reverse engineered, stored into or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic, photocopying, mechanical or otherwise known or hereinafter invented, without the expressed written permission of the publisher.

  Except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, brands, organizations, media, places, events, storylines and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, business establishments, events, locales or any events or occurrences, is purely coincidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and-or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, of which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  www.claudiayburgoa.com

  Contents

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Prologue

  Podcast Week 1 Season 6

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Podcast Week 22 Season 9

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Podcast Week 3 Season 10

  Excerpt

  Wrong Text, Right Love

  Didn’t Expect You

  Love Like Her

  Something Like Love

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About Claudia Burgoa

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  Also By Claudia Burgoa

  The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Series

  * * *

  Loved You Once

  A Moment Like You

  Defying Our Forever

  Call You Mine

  As We Are

  Yours to Keep

  * * *

  Luna Harbor (2021/2022)

  Finally You

  Simply You

  Truly You

  Always You

  Perfectly You

  Madly You

  * * *

  Against All Odds Series

  Wrong Text, Right Love

  Didn’t Expect You

  Love Like Her

  Against All Odds: The St. James Family

  Until Next Time, Love

  Something Like Love

  Betting on Love

  Accidentally in Love

  Waiting for Love

  * * *

  The Spearman Brothers

  Maybe Later

  Then He Happened

  Once Upon a Holiday

  Almost Perfect

  * * *

  Paradise Bay Billionaire Brothers

  Faking The Game

  Can’t Help Love

  Along Came You

  My Favorite Mistake

  Just One Kiss

  Meant For Me

  Finally Found You

  Where We Belong

  * * *

  Second Chance Sinners Duet

  Pieces of Us

  Somehow Finding Us

  * * *

  My One

  My One Regret

  My One Despair

  * * *

  The Everhart Brothers

  * * *

  Fall for Me

  Fight for Me

  Perfect for Me

  Forever with Me

  * * *

  Mile High Billionaires

  Finding My Reason

  Something Like Hate

  Someday, Somehow

  Standalones

  Us After You

  Chasing Fireflies

  Until I Fall

  Christmas in Kentbury

  * * *

  Chaotic Love Duet

  Begin with You

  Back to You

  * * *

  Co-writing

  Holiday with You

  Home with You

  Here with You

  Honeymoon with You

  “And then the dreams break into a million tiny pieces. The dream dies. Which leaves you with a choice: you can settle for reality, or you can go off, like a fool, and dream another dream.” ― Nora Ephron

  Prologue

  Zach

  You see that guy wearing a dark suit, crisp dress shirt, and a tie? Yes, the guy with dark brown hair and blue eyes. Wait, you’re looking at my twin brother. I mean the one next to him. The man with the vacant expression. The poor asshole who can barely stand and would like to be anywhere but in this cemetery.

  This isn’t the best time to meet me. I’m not at my best. Under different circumstances, I’m the one who’d be making you feel welcome during this gathering—even when it’s a funeral. I could give you an insight into Zachary David St. James. My friends call me Zach. I’m twenty-seven, and the owner of Café Fusion. If you’re ever in Boston, come and check it out. As you can see, I’m down on my luck. My wife of six months died in an accident last Monday.

  I believe in love.

  The kind of love that wraps your heart to your soul and hand delivers it to the person you’re meant to be with. I’m not saying I’ve been planning my wedding since I was six. That’d be my baby sister. I just knew that one day I’d get married and start a family.

  When I met Calliope Brassard, I thought, this is it—she is love personified.

  Callie was supposed to be the one I’d spend the rest of my life with. She was supposed to be my eternity—if that’s even a term.

  I chuckle inside my head. If Callie heard me call her love personified or my eternity, she’d be laughing at me. She used to say I was corny. Too corny. At the beginning of our relationship, I thought we were complete opposites who fit perfectly. In the end…

  I stare at the mahogany casket that’s being lowered into the ground. This trip isn’t what I thought when Calliope said she wanted to take a trip to celebrate our six-month anniversary this weekend. She hoped we’d go to a luxury beach, like Plage des Sablettes in France. I suggested we travel to Seattle, maybe spend the weekend in Silver Lake with my family. It’s the fifth anniversary since we lost my brother, Archer. She was uncomfortable with the idea of going to his celebration of life.

  And here we are, at Holyhood Cemetery—ironically, celebrating her life.

  Burke, my twin brother, squeezes my shoulder as the priest sprinkles holy water. The next step is to toss a red rose that lands on the mahogany casket. Callie preferred orchids, but my sister, Teddy, said that roses are more practica
l. After releasing the red flower that falls slowly on top of the elegant box, I look around. My three brothers and my baby sister follow my lead.

  They welcomed Callie as part of the St. James family, even when they thought our wedding was too sudden.

  Was it sudden?

  At least I got to be with her for six months before…I can’t even think about her being dead. A part of me is waiting for her to walk up and say, “What did I miss?”

  “Why her?” I hear a woman cry. When I look up, I spot Callie’s mom sobbing.

  I don’t know why it happened to Callie, and I don’t plan on asking. If I begin to ask questions, I’ll drive myself crazy. What-ifs are also forbidden because I can’t deal with the answers.

  “It’s time for us to go,” Burke says, placing his hand on my shoulder and directing me to where I have to walk.

  My twin and Teddy have been taking care of everything, including me. I’ve been a zombie ever since two police officers arrived at the coffee shop Monday evening to tell me that my wife wasn’t picking up her phone because she was dead. I was hoping it was a tantrum because I didn’t want to go to France. No. Callie was dead.

  “Are you sure those are Callie’s parents?” I hear Teddy ask.

  “Yes.” Burke sounds annoyed. “Why do you ask?”

  “I remember her saying they were horrible people. Look at her sisters. They are crying for her. I—”

  “Stop,” I order Teddy. “We’re not discussing Callie.”

  She nods, giving me an apologetic look.

  I know what she’s about to say, and I’m not ready to listen to any of it. I just lost my wife.

  I glance one last time to where I left her to rest, alone. If there’s something Callie feared, it was being by herself. I feel like I should stay behind with her. That’s what they used to do in Egypt, wasn’t it? I lift my gaze, looking at her parents, who are archeologists. They’d know, but I guess it’s too late to ask them if what I’m doing is right. One thing is for sure: I don’t care to uncover any secrets or learn more about my wife. All I know is that I’ll never listen to her voice or see her bright smile again.

  All I know is that I probably died with her.

  Podcast Week 1 Season 6

  June 10th

  “Hello, all you beautiful people. I’m Persy, and this is Life with Persy. Each week, I’m answering your questions about your relationships with your cat, your significant other, your parents, your siblings, and your roommate, to name a few.

  “Need to get along with a nosey neighbor from hell? There’s always a solution.

  “Did you marry the grump next door, and he’s driving you crazy? I have a trick or two to tame your man.

  “Does that cute guy from Tinder come with more baggage than you bargained for? We’ll talk it up and dish it out here.

  “I’ll offer advice, tactics, and tools that you can use in your daily life to create your own slice of happiness.

  “Just a reminder, this podcast is not suited for work, but you can play it almost everywhere else on your favorite podcast listening devices.

  “Welcome to a new season. I can’t believe that I’ve been on the air for six years. I hate to start this season and this episode with a sad note. Most of you have been with me since the beginning of my journey. You know my family pretty well. This is my safe space where I share a lot of what’s happening in my life. With sadness, I have to announce that my baby sister, Callie, died last month. Please keep my family and her husband, Zach, in your prayers.

  “This is a difficult time for the Brassards. I’m having trouble wrapping my head around the loss of my sister. I just want to know, why? Maybe that’s my problem, that I always ask why. I always have questions, and sometimes there aren’t enough answers to satiate my curiosity or soothe my pain. I just want to know why her so I can give some peace to my devastated parents.

  “I guess when we grieve, all we want is answers, more time with the person we love, a second chance. Losing my baby sister has given me a different perspective on life. I’m tempted to change my commandments, or at least add one. Make it eleven. Live every second of your life.

  “But enough about me. It’s time to concentrate on my listeners. Since we’re talking about sisters, our first email is from Unable to Decide. Well, that’s a funny way to sign an email.

  “Dear Persy,

  My sister and I have a good relationship, so the answer to my question should be easy. It’s not. So, last week I caught my sister’s fiancé playing tonsil hockey with another woman outside a hotel. The man is clearly cheating on her—again. She’s getting married in less than a month. The question is, do I tell her or not?

  You might say it’s a simple yes, do it. It’s not. My sister believes in (let’s call him Tyler) blindly. When it comes to him, she makes the worst decisions ever. Tyler can do no wrong. It doesn’t matter that Tyler left her at the altar. He stole money, wrecked her car, and killed her cat. He ran over him with his bike. Every time he does something harmful, she swears she’s going to leave him. She does until she takes him back.

  If I tell her what I saw, she might finally get a clue or get angry with me for trying to ruin her big day. Do I tell her, or should I just watch the fire burn?

  —Unable to Decide.

  “This one is tough. I have three siblings, and all of them are very different. If I approached Nyx and told her that her man was cheating, she might cut off his manhood before asking him any questions. Beware, Nate. Eros doesn’t do serious relationships, but knowing my brother, he might not care about it. Ladies, I think we should dedicate an entire show to my brother or a book. We can title it Why Can’t I Commit? But let’s not digress. Callie…if she were still with us, she wouldn’t believe me.

  “Dear UTD, if your sister is like Callie, I suggest you grab a bag of popcorn and enjoy the show because nothing you do will change her mind. She’s going to walk down the aisle whether you like it or not.

  “In my opinion, just order this month’s The Sexy Life of Persy subscription box and forget about the outside world. The lavender candles will help you relax. We added rose and jasmine salts to this box. The toy of the month is Hitch. A fantastic couples massager. It ticks all my boxes. Ten pleasure settings go from a teasing hum to a satisfying vibration. It’s made for his and her pleasure. You can use it with your partner or when you’re alone.”

  “You better not be using it when you’re alone.”

  “Sorry, the grump next door just can’t keep his thoughts to himself.”

  “Husband. I’m your husband. We live in the same house, and I give you a lot more pleasure than that toy.”

  “The toy helps.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Go away, Grump. I need to finish this show. It’s live.”

  “Oops. Sorry for the interruption, folks.”

  “So, if you are looking to give something to your best friend, your mom, or yourself, just go to my website. Included in my box is my latest read, I’ll Tell You What I Want: A Guide to Sexploration. Remember, that’s our book club read for September. Make sure to join my social media group so we can interact during our book club week.

  “Setting aside our favorite toys, let’s discuss breakups. The phone line is open, and I’m here to listen and give you tips…”

  Chapter One

  Autumn

  I know I’m in trouble the moment the podcaster says, “she cuts his manhood.” That is it. In fact, I’m fucked. In my defense, I’m not at home. This isn’t my radio, computer, or whatever artifact the coffee shop is using to listen to Life with Persy. Don’t get me wrong, I love the show. I listen to it religiously. However, as the podcaster says in her entry, this show is NSFW. I would include something like, not safe for kids. Matilda, my four-year-old daughter, shouldn’t be listening to it. I can hear the wheels inside her head turning.

  I do nothing to disguise my this-is-going-to-be-a-disaster face as I stand in line helpless, peering toward the door. But I do entertain the
thought of jetting out of the coffee shop for a couple of seconds. If I run fast enough, maybe she won’t be able to ask questions. The unseasonable heat in Silver Lake, Washington, is melting down my entire body. I choose not to escape. Why try when I might not be able to run more than a block before this kid catches up to me. I’m doomed. I adjust my shoulders, shaking the horror from my face, and wait for my child’s nonsense.

  “Can I have a hitcher, Mommy?”

  A part of me wants to correct her because it’s Hitch. Obviously, it doesn’t matter that she learns the correct name. What if she breaks into my mother’s computer and googles it? I know she’s too young to turn on a computer, but I don’t know what to expect with this kid.

  So, I tried to ignore her the same way I did at Dick’s Sports store. The kid was asking if she could get a dick since we were at a dick store. I almost died of embarrassment as people glared at me while my child said the word dick a billion times.