"That was such an amazing class."

I look up and for a beat, I'm too distracted to respond. Today's been a difficult day, but I haven't let on to any of my students.

Sebastian's hearing for a retrial was today in Florida, and I haven't yet found out what happened.

It's not like I can tell anyone about this — people here know me as Angela Davidson, an expat from Texas who came to Costa Rica to live the pura vida with her handsome husband and start a family. The kind of woman who eats organic and wears flowy boho dresses and doesn't own any makeup.

Smiling beatifically — that's what people expect from yoga teachers, right? — I roll up my mat and look up at the woman. She's in her late forties, trim, rich. Most of the women who attend my yoga studio are wealthy. The kind of women I'd longed to become when I was seventeen. They're from around the world and either stay at the nearby resort that costs six hundred a night, or they attend one of my weeklong retreats and stay at a guesthouse owned by a friend. I give discounts to the locals, who are either Costa Rican or American misfits like me.

"Thank you, I'm glad you enjoyed it. How long are you here for?" I stand up. The woman and I chat about the delicious food at the resort, the incredible spa, about the gorgeous beach just steps from the studio.

"You're so lucky to live here," she gushes. "I read about you in Yoga Journal. How you took a class from Shanti Stefan when she was teaching at the resort, and how she made you her protege."

It had been interesting, doing that story. I insisted on no close-up photos.

I smile. If only she knew that I almost had no life at all. Initially I felt guilty about not telling people who I really was. Especially Shanti, because she's been so kind. But, as Griffin — sorry, Finn, I still call him Griffin in my thoughts — says, I'm Angela. Angel. Juliette was someone else. I don't even look like the person I once was. My hair is lighter from the sun, and I'm tan. I'm not thin, not chubby — instead, I'm strong and muscular. I used to own designer heels, and now I only wear sandals. When I'm not barefoot, that is.

"Angela does live a dream life." This comes from Victoria, who's here for a month and is staying at one of the two homes we own. She was in the front row of class and sets her mat onto a shelf. "You should see Angela's baby and husband. Ah, speak of the devil. There's Finn."

My husband weaves around the blissed-out women as they gather their things. He's carrying our daughter, Celeste, on his shoulders.

Almost all of the women stop and stare, and it's no mystery why. He's wearing faded board shorts that show off his muscled legs, a white T-shirt with the logo of his surf shop on the front, and flip-flops. He's still insanely gorgeous, more so because he's relaxed now. He exudes calm and kindness, and can instantly soothe the emotional temper of any room. He's a different person, too.

Years of teaching surfing lessons have left him sculpted and tanned. His hair's getting long again, and I need to cut it. Or maybe not. I kind of like it — it makes him look like a sexy wild man, especially when he doesn't shave for a week or so.

"Hola, Angel." He gently lifts Celeste off his shoulders and I reach for her.

"My God," the woman murmurs. "You really do live a dream life."

Escaping to Central America in the middle of the night ten years ago, deciding to settle in this magical little Pacific beach town, giving birth to our precious daughter — if I think about it too hard, I'll start weeping. Especially today.

"I'm blessed." I press my lips to Celeste's cheek and Griffin slings his arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple. I glance over at Victoria and she flashes a dazzling smile. She knows what I went through, how hard I struggled to let go of my anger and worry and trauma.

It's pretty incredible how Victoria's life has changed, too. She's taken her crazy personality and become an Instagram influencer, traveling the world and taking hot selfies of herself in luxurious places around the world. When she's not traveling, she stays with us or in Latvia, in an apartment above Lena's art studio.

"This is my husband, Finn," I say to the woman, who's squeezing Celeste's chubby, bronze-skinned arm. She takes after her father in so many ways. "He runs the surf shop next door."

"Oh, the hotel told my husband and I about you. My husband would love to take a lesson or two. Do you have anything for beginners?"

"Absolutely. Angel, do you still have flyers at your front counter?"

Since we moved here ten years ago, his Spanish accent has become more pronounced. He has a distinct advantage, having grown up with his Argentinean mom. I've learned the language, but I'll never sound as good as he does. And trust me, he sounds good.

I set Celeste down and she toddles over to the spongy yoga blocks. She adores yoga blocks. "Yeah, they're by the town maps." I wave and call out goodbye to the rest of the students filtering out of the studio.

Griffin and the woman walk into the lobby and I slip my rolled-up mat into a cubby.

"Come on, kiddo." I hold out my hand. She starts to giggle and pretends to run away.

Victoria scoops her up and they both scream with laughter. "I'll take her back to the house," she says. "I figured you'd want to be alone with your husband for a little while."

I frown. "Why, does he have news?"

She nods and pries Celeste's fingers out of her red curls. "I'll let him tell you."

Another knot forms in my stomach, settling into the sour, sick bile.

Today was Sebastian's first attempt at parole. He'd been seriously wounded during the shooting, but pulled through. Evil never dies, apparently. As it turned out, he was on some heavy drugs himself that day, and combined with the pills Lena had placed in his food, he didn't recall exactly who'd shot him.

As Griffin had predicted, there were any number of suspects, between his rape victims and some of his shadier acquaintances who'd bought pills from him in bulk.

Some of the women in the photos on his computer had gone to authorities over the years, but their claims had always been brushed aside by local detectives. But once the media and the authorities got their hands on the contents of his hard drive, there was no ignoring Sebastian's crimes any longer. A jury sentenced him to life in prison, but that didn't stop him from appealing his sentence on the eight-year anniversary of his conviction.

Police never solved the mystery of who shot him. They probably didn't much care, because his youngest victim — a sixteen-year-old — was a cop's daughter. Anyway, Florida's statue of limitations on attempted murder ran out years ago, so I'm in the clear. That's what our Miami lawyer has repeatedly told me.

The lawyer also said there was a "minuscule" possibility Sebastian would be granted a new trial. Good behavior, excellent legal team, political connections that didn't seem to care that he'd been a rapist and a drug dealer of the worst kind.

Miniscule was too big of a chance for me.

I've purposefully kept myself busy today. Too busy to check the internet, and I didn't want to spoil my classes by finding out potentially bad news. So I'd told Griffin that he should be the one to break the news, after I was finished teaching.

I almost don't want to know — on most days, I can forget what happened. But today, there's a nagging anxiety, a lingering edginess. Teaching three classes helped only so much. All day, my mind was filled with a drumbeat of worried, anxious thoughts — not good for a yoga teacher.

Even if Sebastian gets a new trial, he could still be convicted again. No matter what, he can't get me here. He, and almost everyone else in the world, thinks Juliette's dead.

My fear is irrational, but it looms like a dark thunderstorm. Maybe it's because of Celeste, or because my life is going so well that I don't want anything to interfere. When you've been through what I have, you jealously guard your happiness. You hoard it, even. I've worked hard over the past decade to let go of anger, hatred and shame.

And fear.

"I'll see you two later." Victoria's big eyes glance at me with concern.

"Thanks. Yeah. We'll be over in an hour or so," I call out.

"Cool. Ash wanted me to tell you that he's doing bar-b-que tonight."

Ash and Zoe are also staying in the other beach house, along with Victoria. It's where my mom moved after she retired, and it's next door to our home. They all stayed away for two long years, long enough for Sebastian to be convicted and the case to die down in the media.

But now, we're all together. Maybe permanently, if Ash gets a job at the nearby resort. After his cancer went into remission, Ash went to culinary school. Zoe got a job as an accountant for a non-profit addiction and recovery organization, and she can do that anywhere in the world if she has internet.

"Bar-b-que." Griffin's voice echoes into the studio as he walks back in. "My favorite."

"I'm taking this little superhero back home. See you there." Victoria hoists Celeste onto her hip, and our baby blows kisses at Griffin and me.

It's not until I reach for a votive to snuff out the flame that I realize I'm shaking. I take a deep breath.

"Ready?" I say to Griffin, reaching for his hand.

"Do you want to know what happened?" Griffin looks serious.

I shake my head and stuff my feet into my flip-flops. "Let's wait until we get home."

We lock up and walk the block to our bungalow in silence. We'd been lucky to buy all these properties close to each other years ago, before the town became a tourist mecca. I love this little place, with its view of the Pacific on one side and jungle on the other. We're safe here.

Still, I don't want to know what happened in Miami until I'm in the privacy of our house. The last thing I want is to break down in public. We know so many people in town, but they don't realize what we went through, or the life we used to lead. That's because they don't know who we really are, and never will. On some days, even I forget about Griffin and Juliette and the past.

But not today.

Thank God we live near our businesses. The setting sun makes the whole town and the nearby mountainous jungle look like something out of a painting; it's going to be one of those flaming red sunsets tonight. My favorite.

We're at our house now, and the crash of the Pacific Ocean surf is drowning out the blood rushing in my ears. I stand on our wooden porch — it's huge, and I sometimes teach yoga classes here — and look out at the blue water while Griffin unlocks the door. He comes up from behind and slips his arms around my waist.

"His request for a new trial was rejected. Five women wrote letters to the judge, and a few others showed up in court. Apparently he's got heart problems, that's what his lawyer said in court. The judge didn't care. So he could be dead by his next hearing. And our lawyer said he'd heard Sebastian's run out of money, since he had to pay all that restitution. He won't have money for another appeal, most likely."

Every bone in my body relaxes and I melt into Griffin. For some reason, I start weeping. Those brave women. My sisters in survival. I send them a silent prayer of thanks and hope that they've found peace, like I have.

"Hey. C'mere. Look at me, angel."

I turn my back to the water and stare into my husband's brilliant green eyes. He's had to deal with his own emotions these past eight years — anger and guilt. The first couple of years here were hard. I won't lie. We read books and cried, learned to meditate and listen to each other. As we worked through our emotions, we started our businesses. Doing physical things together — yoga and surfing — not only made us focus on something other than our feelings, but made us bond in new ways.

One day, we had nothing more to say, because we'd decided our love was stronger than Sebastian and his abuse. Stronger than Griffin's past decisions. Stronger than the anger that lived within me. We still have all the old passion for each other, only now our connection is deeper.

I've forgiven him for everything that happened. More importantly, I've forgiven myself.

"I don't know why I'm so emotional. I didn't think I would be."

He kisses the side of my head. "It's okay to feel however you want to feel. You have nothing to apologize for. I love you, Juliette."

We gaze into each other's eyes. He never uses my real name, and just now, he uttered it with reverence. My chest squeezes with emotion.

"Griffin," I whisper.

"I love you. No matter what. I'm humbled that you stuck with me through everything. Grateful that we made it. We became stronger. You're strongest person I know. I'm the lucky one, because I'm the recipient of your love. We're a team. We won, Angel."

"I know. These are happy tears," I say, and sniffle. We snuggle for a good five minutes, letting the news and the fading sunlight wash over us. I brush my lips softly over his, and he cups my face tenderly, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. A giddy feeling overtakes me.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's to savor times like this. Moments in his arms, walks on the beach with my mom, Celeste's laughter. Those moments that reveal pure goodness and light.

Evil might not die, but it fades to a small, dim point. And love always gets bigger, and brighter.

I pull back to look into Griffin's eyes. It's amazing what unconditional love and adoration can do for the soul. "All day I've been thinking about how our lives have changed so much. We used to be crazy, remember? Now we're parents with a toddler, homeowners businesspeople." I laugh. "You're even on the town tourism board."

"And I'm happier than I've ever been." He leans down to kiss me. I adore the fact that he still loves to kiss after being together so long. "Are you?"

I let out a giggle in between kisses, and he tickles my side. "Of course, yes. But you know what might make things better?"

The lightness I feel in my chest, combined with a sunset that reminds me of our first weekend together so long ago in Florida, makes me think it's a perfect moment to bring this up.

"Tell me." He gathers my long hair in his hands and studies me.

"Having another baby." I grin wide. We'd discussed this right after Celeste was born and agreed that someday we'd try for another. And right now, I want to be as close as possible to Griffin, skin to skin. I want to lose myself in his kisses, taste his lips, feel him inside me. I need wash away the sharp edge of this day and continue to live every moment like this.

With love.

"I like the way you think," he murmurs in that low, sexy tone of his. "We don't have to be anywhere for an hour, you know. An hour alone is a pretty rare event for us. I'd love to get started on that request right now."

Before I can kiss him again, he scoops me into his arms and carries me inside.

THANK YOU for reading Love is the Drug! I hope you enjoyed it! Please check out my other books and let others know about my work by posting on Wattpad and social media — that's the best way you can support your favorite authors!

If you'd like to read more of my books and are in the mood for more dark romance, try KISS KISS BANG BANG!

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xoxo, Tamara