Fumbled Love

by Lila Rose

  He laughed again.

  The door opened, and I saw Tom peek around the curtain. “It’s just a student.”

  Then I heard Wesley’s cry, “She’s coming. She’s coming.” I stood and went to the edge to see him take his place in the front row of the gym. Reagan thought she was joining the after-lunch assembly because Tom wanted to talk about the school dance. She was wrong. I was there with my family and hers to ask her to marry me. That was if I didn’t throw my guts up and clear the room out because it stank.

  “You ready?” Tom asked around the curtain on stage.

  I jumped like a little girl, forgetting he was standing there. Sweat formed on my brow and hands. “Yes,” I squeaked. Clearing my throat, I nodded. “Yes,” I said again, only manlier.

  The door to the gymnasium opened. I heard the click-clack of her heels, the ones I’d picked out that morning for when she asked me to grab her some shoes since she was running late. Again.

  Though, I did enjoy the way I woke her, with my head between her legs. She loved it too, then refused to leave the bed without returning the favor.

  The room quieted.

  Damn it, someone had to talk or at least make a noise. Assemblies were usually loud with the students talking and stuffing around.

  I caught sight of Reagan standing near the door, searching the room with her brows dipping in suspicion. I waved my arms about like a mad-man to Brooke standing below the stage. She glanced up and I mouthed, “Do something.”

  Brooke nodded and then went over to Reagan. Thank God she caught her attention before Reagan’s gaze ran too close to the back of the room where some of my former-teammates and our family members were. Brooke took hold of Reagan’s hand and pulled her along to the other side. I shoved Tom out onto the stage.

  He stumbled forward. A look of shock and then annoyance crossed his features, but in my defense, I panicked and needed to get him out there to get things started.

  He cleared his throat into the mic and then tapped it. “Well, it looks like my lecture about silence has been listened to. Good work, students.” He clapped, and I saw Reagan relax a little. Smart thinking, Tom.

  As he rattled on and on about the dance, my nerves settled down more. Why? Because I got to watch Reagan standing there, smiling, pulling faces to some of the students and whispering to Brooke. I grinned, knowing I was making the best and most important decision I had ever made in my whole life.

  Reagan Wild was made for me.

  She was supposed to be my wife.

  And I couldn’t wait to make it happen.

  We’d been inseparable since football ended for me. I’d moved into her room the night after the Super Bowl and never left. I couldn’t imagine my life without going to sleep and waking up next to Reagan each morning before I left for my coaching job at the local college. I enjoyed my new job, glad it was close to where we lived—though one day we’d need a bigger house once Reagan and I started a family, another part of life I was very much looking forward to. I loved the woman I was about to ask to marry me.

  Only…

  “Carter, slow your breathing down,” Dad whispered.

  I took a deep breath, nodding. Doubt crept into my mind. What happened if Reagan hated the idea of me proposing to her here in the school? I rationalized it was where we’d first reconnected. Where our paths crossed. When I fell in love with her a little after she asked Brooke to pick her underwear from her butt.

  Hell, would she even want to marry me?

  Screw those thoughts.

  Yes. Yes, she would. Why? Because she loved me and showed it each and every day, like I did with her. In each look, touch, and word. We were a match, and no one could say different.

  “And the award for funniest teacher goes to… Reagan Wild,” Tom announced into the microphone. I caught Reagan’s look of surprise before Brooke pushed her toward the stage steps. She climbed them and made her way over to Tom who was holding a trophy.

  Her happiness shone in her eyes and grin. She took the trophy from Tom and looked down at it. Her brows dipped. Her head tilted to the side.

  “Huh?” she said. She glanced up at Tom. “Why is it a golf award with your name on it?”

  I walked onto the stage with Dad giving me an encouraging pat on the back. I stopped just behind Reagan. Tom took the award back with a bit of a struggle since Reagan wasn’t letting it go. People laughed.

  I got to one knee behind her, and Tom told her, “Look behind you.”

  She relented her grip and slowly turned. Spotting me, her hands flew to cover her mouth, but I heard her gasp. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Reagan Wild, even as a teenager you captivated me. Fate made sure we reentered each other’s lives, and I couldn’t be more grateful for it. Never have I loved anyone as much as I love you. I’d be honored if you would become my wife, so we can spend the rest of our days together.”

  Silence.

  Shit. Nothing but silence as she blinked down at me, tears falling with each blink.

  Tom got close to her. “This is where you answer him.”

  She was statue still, and for a moment I was worried… until she sucked in a ragged breath and whispered, “Are you sure?”

  People laughed once again.

  I grinned up at her. “Positive.”

  She nodded, then nodded again, and before I could brace, she flung herself at me. I went to my back on the stage, chuckling. Cheers and screams erupted around us, but I only had eyes for the woman smiling brightly down at me.

  “I love you, Carter Anthony.”

  “I love you, Reagan Wild, soon-to-be Anthony.”

  Then, right there in front of everyone, she kissed me.

  “Keep it clean, kids,” we heard Tom mutter.

  Breaking the kiss, I smiled softly up at my fiancée and reached for her hand to slip the ring on her finger. This was us. Two people who fumbled their way through it all but came out loving each other in the end.

  “You’re mine forever now,” she whispered.

  “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  Sneak Peek: Making Changes

  A standalone rom-com

  Chapter One

  While I sat in the restaurant waiting for my husband, I couldn’t help but glance around at the couples eating together and wonder if they were truly happy. From the way they shared smiles and sweet looks, they certainly seemed content. My shoulders slumped. I wanted to projectile vomit all over them because it had me pondering, yet again, on where had I gone wrong? How had I become the doormat in my relationship?

  I had instantly fallen for Robert in my final year at college. I had been in the library sitting in the corner at a desk on my own. A group of idiots across from me were calling me fat and ugly, among other things.

  I’d ignored it to start off with, thinking they were only trying to be cool with each other. But after some time, I’d had enough.

  Lifting my gaze, I’d glared across at them and asked, “Do you want to suck my little toe?”

  Silence followed. One scoffed and said, “Why in the fuck would we want to?”

  Shrugging, I placed my pen down and said, “Well, I just thought unless you want to suck each other off, which would be about the size of my little toe, it’s the only action you guys will get from the opposite sex because you’re nothing but fucking pricks.”

  “You need to—” The guy didn’t get to finish because Robert showed up out of nowhere and took them down another notch or two. Once they’d left, he’d sat with me and asked if I was okay. My heart melted right there and then.

  Back then, I was accustomed to being invisible, the girl who wore thick glasses, loose clothing, no makeup, and I didn’t care about any of it. If people tried to crap in my cheerios, I told them where to go.

  Six years later, I figured out somewhere along the way, I had lost myself, and it pissed me off.

  Over time, he’d shaped me into a different woman. One who wore stupid frilly dresses like his grandma used to w
ear—which got me thinking he may have had a thing for geriatrics—to please him, who did as she was told—eye roll—and who thought herself useless. It was hard not to believe those things after hearing them every day.

  Was I strong enough to change?

  To be who I wanted to be?

  I wasn’t sure.

  Though as time went on, I was closer and closer to breaking free. To standing on my own two feet and learning once again to appreciate the person I used to be before Robert.

  However, the move to do so, to leave him, was terrifying.

  Why was love, lust, or even like such a miserable aspect of life? It may not be the case for most people, yet for me it was. I should have known my love life was going to suck donkey’s balls right from the start.

  In my teens I had crushes, but those crushes tore my heart out of my chest, spat on it, and threw it to the ground. Not that I cared. They probably couldn’t handle all my sass. Though their brush-offs could have been why I fell for Robert immediately and did as he advised so willingly. Then again, he was a different person to start with. Caring and sweet, he’d taken me places. Wined and dined, only he never sixty-nined me. Which was a disappointment as I’d heard how amazing it was.

  I jumped when the chair beside me was pulled out. Robert smiled down at me before he sat, but his eyes were hard and filled with contempt. “Randal will be here soon.” His new business associate, or at least that was what Robert hoped. My husband had told me to meet him at the restaurant for a Friday lunch meeting because he wanted to show Randal he was a family man. Apparently that meant he was a man who could be trusted with money and was a man to trust with any legal affairs Randal may ever have. “I asked you to dress nicely, Makenzie.” He glared at my dark blue summer dress. I cut off my snort. I thought I had dressed nicely. Once he had even said he liked it. As I went to comment, the dick continued, “You do know people have designed undergarments that help suck some of the fat in? Maybe you should invest in a few.”

  A blush heated my cheeks. I flicked my eyes down to my hands in my lap and clenched my jaw. It was something I seemed to be doing a lot lately, which annoyed me, made me feel weaker when I never used to be. What I would have preferred to do was throw my water in his face, kick him in the shin, and stab him in the eye with my fork, then sit back to watch him bleed, before storming from the place.

  Still, I was grateful I had my imagination; it was only my backbone I had lost.

  As my mind caused him harm, the weak me sat there and said nothing. So what if I had put on a few pounds? Did he have to be an ass and point it out? And hell, I was happy with the way I looked.

  “Too late to do something about it now. Suck it in,” he hissed and then turned in his seat and boomed, “Randal, good to see you.”

  “Fuckhead.” I froze. The word was coughed out through a manly voice behind me, startling me. I itched to turn around, to see where and who it came from, but didn’t, and if Robert had heard it, he gave no indication. Instead, he turned back to face me with a bright, fake smile on his face.

  “Randal Muller, this is my wife, Makenzie.” Robert gestured with his hand in my direction. Looking up, my eyes landed on a god. He was absolutely breathtaking. With his wide frame, I could have sworn he once would have been on the football team back in the day. He was tall, slim, but firm. His eyes were light, like the ocean on a clear, calm day. He ran a hand through his blond hair before smiling down at me.

  “Great to meet you, Makenzie. Robert has told me many wonderful things about you.”

  I just bet he has. I winced and knew he had caught it, if his raised brows were anything to go on. I smiled politely, fiddled with my fork, and said, “Robert certainly has a way with words.” That could cut me to the bone.

  Robert’s hand slid across the table and grabbed mine. Anyone would think it was an affectionate touch. It wasn’t. His hold tightened on mine. I bit my bottom lip and smiled so I didn’t cringe from the pain.

  Robert wasn’t one to hurt a person. He hated pain in fact, and later he would be very apologetic, saying it was my fault and in the end, he would be so convincing I would somehow believe him. Never once had he beaten me, hit me, or hurt me more than a hard squeeze or pinch.

  Instead, he used words to cut me down.

  Robert chuckled and said, “Only with you, sweetheart.”

  Turning my gaze to him, I made sure my eyes held adoration as I replied, “Of course, pumpkin.” I had a translation for each pet name I’d used for Robert. Pumpkin was prick.

  As soon as Randal sat down, Robert got down to business. At least he tried. Randal cleared his throat, picked up his menu, and suggested, “I’m sure Makenzie doesn’t want to hear all about work. Why don’t we order?”

  Robert laughed. “Of course.” My husband turned to me. “Sweetheart, do you want your usual, a salad?”

  I pulled my hands from the table and clenched them so tightly my fingernails bit into my palms. What I wanted was a nice, big, juicy steak. “Sounds great.” I smiled, refraining from throat punching him.

  It seemed the silent me was more violent than what I actually was.

  “Tell me, Makenzie, do you work?” Randal asked.

  Sitting straighter, I replied, “I don’t at the moment, but I would love to get back out into the workforce. I have a degree in business—”

  Robert chuckled and ran his hand down my arm. “Sweetheart, don’t be silly, you don’t need to work.”

  “Oh, I know I don’t need to, but—”

  “Honey, that’s enough. We’ll talk about it later. Randal doesn’t want to hear about it.”

  He asked, you ass.

  “Of course.” Clearing my throat, I moved my gaze back to Randal and asked. “Do you like to play golf, Mr. Muller?” It was a question Robert had said I could ask. Stick to topics Robert was passionate about so he could talk about himself.

  Honestly, he may as well have gotten on his knees under the table and given Randal a blow job.

  “Randal, please, and I do actually. Do you?”

  “No, I—”

  “Makenzie isn’t really into sports”—he leaned into Randal—“if you couldn’t tell.” After a quick laugh, he then talked about golf. My gaze darted between the two men, fascinated by their interaction. Robert was oblivious to Randal’s quick sneer and his bored expression. My stomach dipped in nervous excitement. It wasn’t just me who was thinking my husband was a dick.

  Robert was always, always like that. Yes, a dick, but oblivious to those around him, pretty idiotic when trying to woo a client. He was always Robert this, Robert that. Robert, Robert, Robert.

  God, why couldn’t I find it in myself to stand up and stalk from the restaurant?

  My head dipped down, no longer feeling the thrill of not being the only one to recognize my husband for what he truly was. My chin almost touched my chest as my eyes stared at my lap. And even though my body had stilled, my mind kept going, kept flashing past comments made by Robert.

  You’re so pathetic, Makenzie.

  You’re too fat.

  I can’t breathe when you’re on top of me during sex. You need to lose weight.

  You went out like that? Jesus, I hope no one saw you, Makenzie.

  Why can’t you be more like Danny’s wife? She’s good at everything.

  I have to picture someone else while I’m having sex with you. How do you think that makes me feel?

  You always look like a slob these days.

  I saw Heather today. She’s so smart, got her head screwed on that one, and she looked hot.

  We have nothing in common.

  You don’t want to have sex with me. It’s like I’m living with a roommate instead of a wife.

  Sure we have sex, but we need to be friends also and do things with each other. Only it was things he wanted to do, never what I wanted.

  Honestly, no matter what I did, how I changed, I was never going to be the one who would satisfy Robert in any way.

  In his eyes, I
was never going to be good enough. I was useless, ugly, fat, stupid, and unworthy.

  God, I was sick of feeling that way. I needed to get out before his words seeped into my blood, like they had already in my mind. I knew once they caught the hint that there was a gaping passage straight to my heart and body via my blood, I knew it would be over.

  I’d lose myself completely.

  “Makenzie?” Robert’s irritated voice broke through. “What are you doing?”

  Blinking, I realized I was standing. I glanced at Randal and then the waiter. When had he arrived?

  I had an epiphany, damn it, and I was going to roll with it. Even if my body felt like revolting as it trembled, and my mind screamed at me to sit back down because I wouldn’t find anyone better.

  Licking my suddenly dry lips, I said, “Sorry, but I’m not feeling well.”

  “Oh,” Robert cried. He stood next to me and took my hand. When I pulled free, he raised his brows in question. Though, he went on, “Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something? Maybe you should head home?”

  Studying him, I noticed his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. He thought I was being a fool for interrupting his talk about himself. A snort left me. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand.

  Six years.

  Four years of marriage.

  Two somewhat happy years and then two years of hell.

  I had been so stupid. So, so stupid. Robert had hated my job, my dad, my sister, my friends, and even my car. Now I had none of them. Silly me had given it all up because a handsome man had paid attention to the geek in college. Regret threatened to overwhelm me and drag me to my knees. I regretted everything I ever did for him.

  But no more.

  “Yes, I think you may be right.” While I’m there, I’ll be packing and leaving, starting fresh. The thought of it actually brought a smile to my face. My hands still shook, but something inside of me bloomed. Looking to Randal, I offered, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Randal. Sorry to have to leave.” And don’t let Robert bite down on your nob too much.

  Randal stood from the table and held out his hand. I quickly shook it. He smiled. “The pleasure was all mine. Hopefully we’ll see each other again.”