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Back First Comes Love Save as PDF
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

Gosh, we’re two spoiled-rotten kids. At this moment, a surge of appreciation for my mom swells in my chest. I’m an awful child. I never call, I come home the bare minimum, and always try to avoid my family like the plague. True, whenever I talk to Mom she finds a way to work my non-existent love life into the conversation, driving me mad. But I know she does it out of real concern for my well-being. I should try to be more patient with her, and call her more, and visit more often.

But this year I can enjoy all her maternal love, with no discussions. I dread the moment I’ll have to tell her Diego and I broke up.

The thought hits me in the stomach like a punch with more force than I could’ve ever expected. To stage a fake breakup with my fake boyfriend has always been the plan, but after last night… What are we going to do? Are we still going to break up at the end of the week? Can you really break up if you’ve never even been officially together? Are we together?

The questions that have been swirling inside my head since I woke up, keep on spinning, chasing one another around my poor brain. I fend them off with a bite of warm roll and a sip of steamy coffee. Today’s my first chance at a merry Christmas, and I’m not going to waste it roasting in self-doubt all day. Que será, será…

Sixteen

Santa Baby

On a whim of daughterly love, I offer to help Mom in the kitchen after breakfast, sending her over the moon with joy and a bit of shock. My standard MO for Christmases past had been to hide in my room until all the guests had arrived and get as little involved in the preparations—ahem, and celebrations—as I could.

Although my offer of help is welcomed with warmth, poor kitchen skills relegate me to vegetable-peeling duty. But I don’t mind. The task is easy and repetitive; it has a steadiness to it that’s keeping me Zen. I’m so at peace with the universe today. I even manage not to roll my eyes whenever Julia takes Mom’s perfect recipes and mangles them with her new vegan creed. Thankfully, the special menu will apply only to her today—and to any volunteers. I doubt there’ll be any. Maybe Paul will taste something out of sheer love—or duty.

I wait for the usual pang of the heart, or the tightening in my chest, that I get whenever I think about how Paul is in love with my sister. But it doesn’t come. Zero. Nada. No pain. No wistfulness. Was one night with Diego really enough to make me forget Paul? Okay, it wasn’t really just one night. We’ve been living together for two weeks, learning everything about each other…