The Do Over

by A. L. Zaun

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  It's Not Over

  About the Author

  I stood with my arms crossed in the dimly lit doorway, watching him. Even in the dark, I could make out his features. His dark brown hair was tousled, and his unshaven face had that perfect stubble. He made disheveled look delicious. I couldn't help but grin.

  The only light came off the television as he watched a World War II movie. We'd fought last night like we'd never fought before, and I hated it. The tension was still thick between us. We'd spent most of the day in our separate corners, nursing our wounds. Well, at least I did. Although he'd broken my heart, I wanted to somehow bridge the gap and make things right.

  While he was lying comfortably on the chaise lounge, I desperately wanted to crawl into his lap and nestle against his chest. I needed to feel close to him. I wanted his arms around me with his lips on my mouth.

  Shifting in his seat, he looked over at me. I waited for his dimpled smile, the one that would be my invitation to join him, but it never came. Wanting to make things right, I walked into the room and sat in the chair, facing him.

  "Cariño, this isn't working for me," he said impassively before he resumed watching his movie.

  "What?" I asked, sitting up straight. "What are you talking about? What isn't working for you?"

  My eyes were trained on his immobile profile. With confusion now added to my heartbroken state, emotions swirled as my heart rate soared. I wanted to grab the remote out of his hand and hit him over the head with it. At the same time, I wanted to slide into his lap and feel him close to me. I wanted to curse him and love him. I exhaled slowly, trying to bring down my heart rate, as I cleared my head.

  I knew I'd been kissing a frog for the past year, but I had faith that he'd turn into a prince. He had so much potential, and our connection was electric and intense.

  He lowered the volume just a bit. When he turned toward me, his eyes met mine. "We're just too different." He shrugged his shoulders slightly.

  I jerked back at the sound of his words. My eyes popped while my mouth dropped in shock. Is this his excuse? Seriously? I'd put up with a lot of his shit. Isn't that just part of life? People would fuck up and then work it out and then have make-up sex. Sex had been the cure-all for whatever ailed us. It had been the glue that bonded us together. Three times a day, we'd have toe-curling, eyes-rolling, intense, and totally hot sex. And now, he was throwing away our relationship because of a fight. I wasn't about to admit defeat.

  While bombs exploded in the background as the Americans invaded France, I pleaded, "Rick, please." I spoke slowly to steady my shaking voice. "You have to give me something better than 'we're different.' We've always been different. You know that you're the yin to my yang. We balance each other. We pull one another out of our comfort zones. It works great for us."

  Our entire relationship—the good, the bad, and this ugly—flashed before my eyes. Why am I trying to save us when he's giving up so easily? I love him and want to be with him, that's why. Even though my friends would disagree, it wasn't always bad. It was intense, and when it was good, it was incredibly great. But when it wasn't…well, every single one of my insecurities surfaced. I wasn't expecting any of this from him.

  "Yeah, I know," he deadpanned, glancing in my direction. "But it's just not working for me. You know, the sex is great. It's probably the best I've ever had, and that's saying a lot. I've had great sex before. Sex with you is really amazing, but it's just not happening for me. I want it to work. You're perfect on paper. You're everything I've ever wanted, Cariño, but it's just not here." He slapped his hand over his heart.

  What the hell just happened? Unable to look at him, I turned away. I didn't want him to see the hurt in my eyes, so I stared at the television. Blood and guts splattered all over Normandy. The scene seemed very fitting for what was happening between us. Everything slowed down for me at that moment as the betrayal burrowed deeper in my heart.

  I was a hopeless romantic. I knew from the moment I'd laid eyes on him that he was complicated. I'd seen through his act, and I hadn't bought his sales pitch. I had played hard to get, but he had been relentless. I knew he'd get right under my skin the instant I'd given him an opening.

  He was arrogant, slightly entitled, and very spoiled. He had an opinion on everything. He could be the world's biggest asshole. He had commitment issues and never entered any obligation that tied him down for too long. "After all," he'd say, "you never know when something better might come along." The only thing he focused on was his career, but that, too, would be short lived. Soon, he'd have to forego his independence and assume his role in his family's company.

  Aside from all of that though, there was no denying that he was charming, sexy, and gorgeous. He had charisma and the gift of persuasion. With one flash of his smile or a wink from his hazel eyes, I'd be putty in his hands.

  I had fallen in love with him. He'd been the complicated guy looking for a good girl to inspire him to settle down, and I'd been the good girl looking for a challenge. I'd wanted a project, and he'd been more than willing to oblige. We were a match made in a dysfunctional heaven, and it worked perfectly for us. At least, that had been the case for the last year until the fight. I didn't care that he'd been wrong, and I'd been right.

  Snapping out of it, I stood in a daze. "What's not working for you? What the hell are you talking about?" Overcome with a surge of anger, I grabbed the remote and turned off the damn television. "Less than twenty-four hours ago, you had your dick inside of me, and we were planning a trip. Now, you're telling me that it's suddenly not working for you. Why? Because we had a fight? I don't believe you!" I shouted at him. "Couples fight. If we didn't fight, we wouldn't be healthy!"

  Who am I kidding? We'd never been a healthy couple, but that didn't matter. I was desperate.

  I drew in a calming breath, but it was no use. I shouted, "You can't tell me that you're throwing everything away because we had a fight! I asked you for one thing. One! That's not a lot to ask. It was just one thing, and you knew how I felt about i
t. Did that stop you from rubbing it in my face? No! Now, you're done with me because you did the only thing I asked you not to do." Adrenaline was pumping through me, and I couldn't stay in my seat. I stood over him, wanting to strangle him. My lips quivered as my eyes narrowed. My emotions pulled me in a million directions.

  Then, something shifted. I wasn't mad, angry, or frustrated. As insecurity reared her ugly head, my expression went blank. My heart sank to the floor. Taking a step back, I glared at him. Suddenly, everything made sense. That bastard.

  "This isn't about our fight or even that we're different," I mumbled.

  The fight was significant, but it wasn't something to break up over.

  "This isn't about us. It's because of her, isn't it?" Any resolve to hold it together was lost. My legs weakened while my hands trembled as I braced the back of the chair.

  Last night after dinner, we went dancing at Rick's favorite nightclub. Dimly lit, the lights cast shadows along the walls. Across the back wall, bartenders drew their crowd around the bar that was stocked with everything imaginable. The atmosphere was electric with great music and a packed dance floor.

  As soon as we arrived, people came up to us, mainly Rick, and we'd socialized. Rick, though, had a tendency to be friendly with women. The only thing I'd asked was that he'd refrained from any playful banter with her, his ex-girlfriend. It really hadn't been an issue since we hadn't run into her in a long time, but last night, she happened to be at their old stomping ground.

  When he saw her, his face broke into a big Cheshire Cat smile. He walked over, said hello and made the unnecessary introductions. Thank God I looked amazing. My silky top accentuated all my positive features and my low-slung tight jeans hugged me in all the right places. Killer pumps added four inches to my height. With my shoulder-length dark brown hair straightened and my scandalous smoky eyes, I felt hot and sexy.

  Snaking my arm possessively through Rick's, I exchanged an all-telling look with her as we sized each other up. As far as I was concerned, everything was working in my favor. Resting my head on his shoulder, I smiled as I thought back to our appetizer from earlier in the evening.

  He called me at work with the news that he'd just gotten a much-deserved promotion. We were going to spend the evening celebrating with dinner and dancing.

  When I got home, he must've heard me fumbling for my keys because the door flung open. Grabbing me, he dragged me against him roughly. With that dimpled smile on his face that I'd seen so many times before, I knew what he wanted. He hungrily eyed my lips and then brought his mouth over mine. His tongue caressed my lower lip, begging for entrance, and I opened, welcoming him. The kiss was deep and passionate. As he held me tightly, our hands explored each other.

  The restaurant where we had made dinner reservations was just a little over an hour away, so I knew we were short on time.

  Suddenly, I landed on the bed with his body pressed over mine. Feeling, yearning, and aching for his touch. He gazed at me with wild desire as he held my arms up. He slid off my shirt, keeping my arms above my head, and then his lips traveled slowly down my highly sensitized body. Releasing my breasts from my bra, his mouth found my hardened nipples. He nibbled on one while his thumb and forefinger pinched the other.

  Heat pooled between my legs as my desire peaked. I needed him. I couldn't wait. I didn't want to wait. "Please," I begged.

  He loved how my body responded to him. "Cariño, I'm going to let your hands go, but don't move them. I want a little appetizer before dinner," he said. Grinning, he moved down my body and then lost himself between my legs. As he sucked on my clit, he inserted one and then two fingers inside of me. "I love how wet and hot you get for me. You're dripping."

  When he found my spot, the pressure mounted. I couldn't hold on any longer, and the convulsions rippled through me.

  "That's it. Come for me," he encouraged in a husky voice.

  The look of lust and heat in his eyes was erotic. He knew how much I wanted him.

  "Fuck, you drive me crazy when you wiggle your ass like that," he growled.

  He loved the power he had over me. He knew how my body responded to his touch and how he could pleasure me. He loved how much I wanted him.

  After he pulled down his pants, I felt his tip teasing me.

  "Do you want me inside of you?"

  "You know I do," I panted.

  Hungrily, he entered me. The movement was fluid and perfect. As he thrust in and out of me, I brought down my arms, clutching him, as I wrapped my legs around his back. Feeling him deep inside of me, the pressure began to build again.

  "I can feel you, Cariño. You're so fucking hot when you're coming," he growled sensually.

  With that prompting, we both climaxed together. We smiled, knowing what would be on the menu for dessert later.

  The sound of his voice brought me back to the moment.

  "It was good to talk to you, Ely. I'll see you around." He slid his arms around my waist and led me to the dance floor. Leaning in, he seductively whispered, "What were you thinking about back there?"

  Pressing my body against his, I put my head against his chest. "Your appetizer."

  He tilted my chin up and ran his lips over mine. "Wait until you see what I have in store for your main course. You might not make it to dessert."

  "I have a big appetite." I smiled as he lowered his mouth over mine and kissed me.

  He pulled back and led me to the dance floor where we danced pressed up against each other for at least an hour.

  Needing drinks, we worked out way out of the crowded dance floor, Rick went to the bar to get us drinks while I found us a small table.

  When he returned, he handed me my Cosmo and set his drink on the table. "I'll be right back. I have to go see someone," he said.

  With a drink in my hand and lust in my eyes, I watched him as he walked back into the crowd. This was typical for us. He would always talk to people. Being in sales, he knew everyone, including half the female population. I wasn't jealous. He would be going home with me, and I knew very well what we'd be doing in a matter of hours. As I brought the glass to my mouth, my lips curled, resting in that reality. It was as simple as that.

  Then, my delicious grin went flat. I watched as he went to her and pulled her onto the dance floor. What the fuck? Everything happened in slow motion. Jealousy, anger, betrayal, and humiliation flooded my head. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. What happened to the air in the room? I wanted to move, but I was stuck.

  The glass slipped out of my hand and crashed on the floor as the Cosmo splashed all over my shoes. My legs were paralyzed while my eyes were glued on them dancing to fast music. Smiling and laughing, they gazed at each other in a very intimate way. His hold on her was all too familiar.

  Trapped in a sea of people, I watched this exchange. I was suddenly the outsider. Sweat beaded around my temples. I needed to pull it together. I needed to get out of here. Tears pooled in my eyes. I was dying a slow death, feeling the humiliation choke my heart, while the rest of the world was oblivious.

  The song was over in less than four minutes. It was the longest four minutes of my life. Even if I had the energy, I refused to make a scene. I wasn't about to give her that satisfaction. She looked over at me and smirked victoriously as she pressed herself into him. I put on a fake smile, but my eyes betrayed me. I wanted to rip out her stringy hair and claw out her eyes. I hated her, and I was furious with him.

  He pulled away from her and made his way back to me, avoiding my eyes. Once he got to the table, he reached over for his drink. I laid my hand over his. Leaning toward him, I said, "We're leaving…now."

  He swallowed his signature Black Label in one gulp and placed the glass back on the table. "No, we're not. I'm celebrating tonight."

  Standing up and glaring at him, I demanded, "Do whatever you want. Give me the keys because I'm leaving."

  He huffed, "Stop being ridiculous."

  Me? Ridiculous? My lower lip trembled, and I could feel the tears w
elling up in my eyes. I was about to lose it, but I held my stance.

  "This was my night, Daniela," he snapped, grabbing my hand as we left the club. "You had to go and fucking ruin it."

  When we were finally alone, everything came out, and we fought for a while.

  Although I did end up in his bed at the end of the night, we didn't have hot, steamy, and intense sex. There were no orgasms to pacify the resentment and anger. For the first time in the six months that we'd been living together, we were lying with our backs to each other in silence with a high and thick wall that seemed impenetrable.

  When morning came, the silence continued all day until it was broken with his unexpected declaration that this wasn't working for him.

  His eyes were pained, but his decision was firm. He stood up, running his hands through his hair. "I know you don't deserve this, but it's for the best. Maybe you should go to Macy's or Candace's tonight. I'll be out for most of the day tomorrow. You can get your stuff then or whenever you want." He reached out to touch my arm.

  "Don't touch me." I yanked my arm away. My mind was spinning. Anger turned to betrayal and rejection as my heart shattered, breaking in a million pieces. I walked away, trying to hold on to whatever pride and dignity I had left. What choice do I have? I grabbed my belongings and started throwing them in garbage bags.

  "You don't have to do this now," he said, watching me in my manic state as he stood in the doorway to our bedroom. "Daniela, come on, you can just come back tomorrow with your friends."

  "Fuck you, Rick," I said, seething with anger. I was devastated. "Fuck you. I'm taking all my stuff now. You'll look back on this day with regret, I promise you. I was the best thing that ever happened to you."

  Without another word, I packed the rest of my things and made several trips from the apartment to my car, ignoring him the whole time. When there was no trace left of me in his apartment, I took the key off my key ring and threw it at him.

  Leaving for the last time, I sat in the parking lot, looking at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I made sure to sear this pain in my memory as my heart thudded wildly in my chest. Turning my eyes forward, I gripped the steering wheel tightly as I drove away. I held back the tears that I knew would come soon enough. This hurts too damn much. Resolving to be officially done with the hassles of a relationship, I closed my heart.