by Anna Rezes
Pink f*cking Moscato
Anna Rezes
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
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
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Author Note
Acknowledgments
Also by Anna Rezes
About the Author
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Copyright © 2019 Anna Rezes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior written consent from the copyright owner.
ISBN: 978-1-950657-19-4 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-950657-10-0 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-950657-11-7 (hardcover)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019915433
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by German Creative
First Edition: November 2019
Words Imagined
Hilliard, OH
www.annarezes.com
To everyone who failed so hard but found the courage to get back up.
Willa
The envelope was heavy—expensive. I held it in my hands, turning it over. The shiny cream paper weighed me down. I recognized the names on the return label—Evan and Estelle. It used to be Evan and Willa and to associate his name with another woman felt cruel. My chest constricted like my torso was caught in the vise grip of a giant, but it wasn’t a giant that held me. It was fear—fear that Evan still had the power to hurt me.
I wanted to pretend I wasn’t so weak. I knew this day was coming, but even still, the envelope sat in my hand like a bomb waiting to go off.
Throw it away. I told myself. But I had to see it. I had to confirm this was real so I could move on with my life.
It was just a piece of paper. It had no power over me. I pulled the card out of the envelope, and for a moment, I was confused. Then, as if realizing I was holding a poisonous snake, I threw the card and tried to scream, but choked instead as my throat narrowed, imprisoning my cry for help.
I turned, gripping the kitchen chair while a sob caught in my throat. I whimpered as my body shook. My legs no longer possessed the strength to hold me upright, and my knees met the tile floor just as violent sobs rocked through me, ripping and tearing their way out of me. I clung to the chair as if it could save me from this agony while my tears dotted the floor like drops of rain.
My mother walked in the back door. When she saw me, she dropped the bags she was carrying. She asked me what was wrong as she knelt beside me. I wanted to say everything, but when I opened my mouth to speak, a horrible wail tore its way out of me. I released the chair that had failed me and instead clung to my mother—my savior.
Paper may not have the power to hurt me, but the words written on that paper knocked the air from my lungs and shattered a piece of my soul. I couldn’t go through this. Not again. I had to get away. I needed a timeout, just long enough to catch my breath.
Willa
It’s completely irrational—this crazy attraction I have to men wearing backpacks. I can’t explain it. There is something masculine and sexy about a grown man wearing a bag strapped across his muscular back. This man especially. His hand stroked the dark stubble of his cheek down to his jaw while his feet shifted.
Maybe it was just my sleep deprivation that made me think his backpack made him more attractive.
I was ready to leave right after I opened the mail from my ex, but my mom convinced me to wait until the next morning. I barely slept because I couldn’t stop thinking of Evan, who was probably wrapping himself around a naked Estelle in their adult-sized bed while I spent the night in the twin bed of my childhood bedroom.
With little sleep, I got up early and spent most of my day driving. The goal was to go further north, but I had to stop because my eyes were too heavy. I stopped at a rest area and looked up hotels on my phone, finding one with glowing reviews just off the next exit. I booked a room, and now, here I was.
The hotel looked newly renovated, but something was wrong with the lobby doors. They continued to slide open and closed despite no one being around to activate them. Warm Michigan air swept through the lobby, blowing my long hair into my face. I gathered up the dark strands, twisting them into a quick braid. I had nothing to secure the ends, so I left them loose.
The hotel lobby wasn’t crowded, but the guests standing at the counter were an utter pain in the ass. As the couple bickered over rooms, the clerk assisting them tried to excuse himself, but the couple reeled him back in with more questions, like what side of the building did the rooms face, is there a Jacuzzi in the room, could they get a free upgrade, and could the hotel guarantee the surrounding rooms had quiet occupants. The clerk’s responses kept getting shorter and more direct, but the couple was undeterred.
Meanwhile, the line grew behind them. Well, sort of. It was only the sexy backpack man with his bottle of Pink Moscato and me. Curious. He held the incredibly feminine bottle of wine with confidence, masculine confidence that said, I’m not drinking this alone. And by the looks of him, I had no doubt he had someone waiting for him upstairs. She was probably gorgeous and sprawled across his bed wearing a lacy teddy and eating chocolate-covered strawberries. Except no one was that romantic anymore—unless she was his mistress. I looked for a wedding ring and didn’t find one. Figures, he would’ve taken it off for his midweek fling.
I wasn’t always so cynical, but after seeing my husband of six years in bed with another woman, my heart and mind were pretty fucking disillusioned with love. Now I saw affairs everywhere I looked. Thank you, Evan Durban, my son-of-a-bitch ex.
Another hotel attendant came out from the back and walked to the second computer. She smiled pleasantly at the man in front of me, and he took a step forward. He asked her for a corkscrew, saying he forgot his. As she went to the back to grab one, he leaned against the counter, his fingers tapping quietly against the granite while he waited. He looked to be in his late twenties, same as me. His hair was long enough for a man bun, and it irritated me because it looked so good on him. He wore a pastel blue t-shirt with light pink shorts and somehow; he pulled that off too. He had a carefree air about him, and his feet were in sandals like some kind of bohemian love child. I was staring a hole in the back of his head when the obnoxious couple stepped away from the counter.
I moved forward and gave the clerk my name so he could look up my reservation. I booked it under Willa Durban because that’s the name that was still on my credit cards, but I was looking to change all of that. I wasn’t psyched to go back to my maiden name, Willa Rose. It might sound cute, but I was so tired of the comments. I just wanted a regular name, which I had until Evan took it away. Bastard.
The clerk found my r
eservation, and because I couldn’t help it, I asked, “My room isn’t close to the couple that just left is it?”
Backpack guy tried to smother his laughter by coughing. I glanced at him, and his eyes snagged on mine, his lips turning up into a slight grin. Oh, hell. His look sent a zing of electricity through me. No matter how much humans evolved, sexual desire was an instinct. We could fight against our biology, but our libido always fought back. And the bitch didn’t fight fair. We may act like superior beings, but deep down, I knew we were all just animals playing pretend.
I turned my attention back to the clerk, seeing he was also wearing a smile, though not nearly as sexy. “No, ma’am, you are on a different floor.”
“Thank you,” I said gratefully, while the woman returned with a corkscrew in hand.
“Sorry,” she said to the bohemian love child. “It wasn’t where it was supposed to be. It’s the only one we have so you’ll have to use it here.”
“No problem,” he said as he opened his Pink Moscato. He gave the device back with a very polite thank you before heading toward the elevators.
The clerk handed me my room card, pointing me in the same direction as Mr. Pink Moscato. I walked my scrubby ass over to wait for the elevator. After spending all day driving, I wanted to shower and go to bed. My nerves pricked as I stood next to the attractive stranger.
The elevator dinged open, and Mr. Polite held out his arm, gesturing for me to go first. I stepped in, rolling my eyes at his gentlemanly behavior. I went to stand in the corner, and he followed. He stood by the panel of buttons, and I realized I hadn’t pushed the one for my floor.
“What floor?” he asked, looking back at me with his light blue eyes.
“Three, please,” I said in a small voice.
He nodded, saying, “Me too.” He pressed the little three, and the doors slid shut, locking us in together.
As the elevator rose, he leaned back, crossing one sandaled foot over the other. On our ride up, he asked, “Are you traveling for business?”
The question felt invasive, not to mention dumb. My cut-off shorts and spaghetti strap top weren’t professional. When I looked up at him, I realized he was smiling. He was fucking with me. He made a joke, and I was too stupid to get it. Also, I felt a little insulted.
As the doors opened, I said, “At least I don’t look like an Easter egg threw up on me.”
He laughed while I climbed off the elevator. I hurried forward liking the sound of his laugh way too much. I wheeled my bag down the hall in search of room three-twelve. Stopping in front of my door, I pulled out the card. Before scanning it, He walked to the other side of me to room three-fourteen.
“Oh, look, we’re neighbors.”
“Shit,” I whispered under my breath. Now I’d have to crank the TV to avoid listening to sex noises all night.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
I flicked my eyes to him as I scanned my key and twisted the handle. “No. Goodnight.”
He was opening his door, but he turned to face me with a smirk. “Goodnight? It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.”
My eyes searched his face while I lifted my bag. He had a breathtaking smile, and his eyes were alight with humor. But I was so tired of being the butt of the joke, and if he was flirting, I wasn’t interested. I turned away, shoving my bag the rest of the way into my room, letting the door slam behind me. I flipped the locks for good measure.
It took me a few minutes to register the pounding at my door because I was wearing earplugs, plus the TV was blaring. I pulled out my earplugs and heard the noise again, louder this time. I threw the blankets off myself and grabbed the remote to turn down the TV while I pulled on my pants. Looking through the peephole, I saw my new neighbor. He was no longer wearing his Easter outfit, and his carefree bohemian lovechild air had disappeared.
I kept the chain locked as I cracked open the door, not caring if I looked paranoid. I would rather be paranoid than end up raped or dead.
“Yes,” I said, peeking through the crack.
He folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side, giving me a dirty look. “Were you asleep?” he asked incredulously.
“I was,” I returned irritated.
“For fuck sakes, it’s two in the morning! Turn down your TV,” he said, running a hand through his hair, before adding, “Please.”
Maybe I should feel bad, but instead, I laughed at his attempt at manners. “Since you asked so nicely, I’ll turn it down.”
He smiled at me, causing me to grip the inside door handle tighter. His smile did things to me. It had been six months since Evan broke my heart and it had been even longer since we’d had sex. And that smile radiated sex. I reeled in my thoughts, realizing I was biting my lip and remembered why I had the TV up so loud in the first place.
I stood up taller. “I didn’t mean to disturb you guys. . .” of your sexcapade. I didn’t say that part out loud.
“Thank you,” he said, looking thoughtful. He took a step toward his door and stopped. He spun back toward me, tilting his head in question. “Us guys?”
“Yeah, you and your girlfriend or whatever.”
He stared at me, almost squinting before his face relaxed. A sexy smile curled those lips, bringing dirty thoughts to my head.
He broke those thoughts by saying, “What makes you think I have a girl with me?”
“Umm, the Pink Moscato.”
“What if I told you the wine was for me?”
“I’d call you a liar.”
“The Pink Moscato is all mine. I’m the only one drinking it,” he said.
I rolled my eyes. “Right, okay. Goodnight.”
I started to close my door, but he stopped it, pushing back, holding it open as far as the chain would allow. “You didn’t call me a liar,” he said, his baby blues zeroing in on me.
“It’s none of my business. Goodnight,” I said again, hoping he would let me close the door.
His eyes continued to appraise me for a moment before he relented. “Goodnight.” He removed his arm, and I closed the door.
I flipped the deadbolt and walked back to my bed. I crawled under the fluffy comforter before turning off the TV. As I stared at the blank screen, the lack of sound sunk in, crumbling my composure as everything I lost screamed loudly into the silence. It felt all-consuming.
Trying to hide from it, I pulled the blankets up over my head, curled into a ball, and began singing the song my mother sang to me when I was young. My voice was a whisper, barely audible to my own ears. My tears came next, helping me to fill in that empty void that sat inside my chest.
Water had always soothed me and lucky for me, the hotel had two pools, one indoor and one outdoor. It was a beautiful day outside with the sun shining while a slight breeze made the eighty-degree weather feel bearable. It was a day everyone wanted to spend outdoors, except for me. While the outdoor pool was crawling with people, the indoor pool was nearly vacant. Setting my things down on an empty chair beside the vacant pool, I removed the sheer white tunic that covered my swimsuit, revealing the black bikini underneath. I’m comfortable enough with my body, and when I tried on the bikini in the dressing room at the store, I felt confident, unstoppable. But standing here now, I realized that I was not invincible, and I have never been comfortable strutting around in a bathing suit of any kind.
So, I did what I do best. I pretended to be confident. I pretended that I was the hottest woman in the room and that I was in total control over my life. I pretended to be here in this hotel because I wanted to be and not because I didn’t know how to be anywhere else.
I slipped out of my flip-flops and took a few steps to the edge of the pool. I dipped my toe in and found the water warmer than I had expected. Holding my head high, I walked to the steps at the shallow end. My hand landed on the cool steel rail that ran down the wide concrete steps. As my foot sunk into the water, I imagined I was a model sashaying seductively into the pool. I was ridiculous, but it made me feel
sexy, something I hadn’t felt in a long time.
When I was waist deep, I dove under, swimming down the length of the pool. It felt refreshing to be under the water. Somehow the quiet down here didn’t fill me with all the disparaging thoughts it had last night. This silence felt tranquil. It soothed me in a way nothing else had since, well . . . a long time ago. Years. I was happy once, wasn’t I? It felt like a lifetime ago.
My hand reached out to touch the wall of the pool, and my head popped out of the water. My hair suctioned to me; my face caught in a web of long dark strands. I lowered my head under and came up again to free myself of the stray strands. That’s when I noticed him. The man from yesterday sat in a chair watching me. I couldn’t tell if he had been watching me or if he just happened to look over at that exact moment. He sat close to the seat where I had set my things. We held eye contact for a moment before I noticed the gorgeous woman in the red-string bikini who was approaching him.
He looked over at her with a smile as she sat next to him. She handed him a drink, and the two began talking. Sure, the Pink Moscato was for him. Liar.
All men were liars. I already knew this, but I was still disappointed.
I turned and dove back under, pissed that he stole the comfort I was feeling a moment ago. I didn’t know why I was letting him get to me. Maybe it’s because it had been a long time since anyone had looked at me the way he kept looking at me. It had been even longer since I felt that flutter of excitement he provoked inside of me.