The Return (A Decision of Love Book 1)

by Tzar, Anastasia

  The Return

  A Decision of Love: Book 1

  By

  Anastasia Tzar

  This e-book contains explicit descriptions of sexual activity. Only mature readers should download this book.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner, author, and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America

  Due to the graphic sexual scenes and strong language, this book is not intended for readers under the age of 18. This is an adult fiction book and it does contain graphic sex scenes and explicit language.

  This is written for the people I love. You know who you are.

  Without the support of my Critique Partner, Michelle De La Garza, or the fabulous art work of my cover designer, Wren Tailor, this book would not have been possible.

  A special thanks to my special man, who puts up with my long hours at the computer. Regardless of the questions I ask, he tries to answer them honestly even if it’s to look at hot guys for my cover.

  Future Releases under the pen name Anastasia Tzar:

  The Conflict (A Decision of Love: Part 2) – November 2014

  The Resolution (A Decision of Love: Part 3) – December 2014

  Twisted Love – January 2015

  A Chance Encounter – February 2015

  Chapter 1

  It was a mistake. The moment my finger pressed the play button, the sound of Aerosmith flooded the room. My eyes filled with tears. What the heck was wrong with me? Unable to stop crying, I curled into a fetal position holding my knees tight to my chest, the lump in my throat strangling me. My mind was deluged with memories of another time, life with Josh, my first husband. Between the ages of sixteen to thirty-two, he was my soul mate, the love of my existence. We were going to be together forever; best lovers and best friends.

  Sitting cross-legged on our old sofa, laughter bubbled from my throat. Josh, stood in the doorway, holding a microphone in his hand, singing “Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” Wearing tight-jeans, barefoot, and bare-chested, he danced toward me. He flashed his blazing smile, rolling his hips seductively, moving in that sexy ‘come hither’ way that made me weak in the knees. He reached for me, dancing me around the room, kissing my neck before lowering me to the carpet. “I love you,” he whispered huskily, his mouth crushing mine.

  My finger touched my lips, softly tracing the outline, remembering the feel of his mouth on them. Even now, my heart raced every time I thought of him. The memory brought a lump to my throat cutting off my air supply. I moaned, gasping for air. Racking sobs shook my body. But the vision was of my ex-husband. We lived thousands of miles apart. He lived in L.A. I lived in Winnetka, a suburb of Chicago.

  Our divorce had been acrimonious, to say the least. When we left the courtroom for the final time, we’d glared at each other. My lips mouthed “I hate you” to him. He gave me the middle finger in response.

  Four years ago, I’d locked memories of Josh in a deep, dark place, throwing away the key. Thoughts of him were off limits. The pain, too great for my heart to bear. I had no clue what caused this weeping jag or why the memories surfaced, but the ache that filled me was very real.

  “Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

  Adam dropped on the floor next to me, his eyes wide, full of concern.

  “Josh? Oh, Josh, what went wrong with us?”

  “Mom, what are you talking about? It’s me, Adam.”

  For a nanosecond, my blurry vision mistook my son for Josh. He had the same searing blue eyes, and thick, dark hair as his father. I sat up, my cheeks on fire. “Adam?”

  Oh God. Was it that late? I dug into the pocket of my jeans for a tissue. I had to pull myself together before my son thought something catastrophic had happened. Struggling to compose myself, I managed a false smile.

  “Hey, sweetheart, I didn’t realize how late it was. How was school? Didn’t you have football practice today?”

  In appearance, he was a younger version of Josh in every way. His smile lit up his face, and the dimples in his cheeks made my heart sing. He was sixteen. A great kid: kind, smart, and an outstanding athlete. He flashed the identical grin that had reduced me to a weeping mess a few minutes before.

  “No. Mr. Rutland canceled. We’ll have a long one tomorrow to make up for it. I’m going to get something to eat.” Searching for food in the refrigerator, he yelled over the door. “So why the meltdown?”

  “The book I’m reading.” I waved a hand in the air as if this was a perfectly normal excuse for the grief-laden breakdown. The excuse was lame considering there wasn’t a book near me, but I couldn’t tell him I had a flashback to happier times with his father. That I missed the shit out of him. I wasn’t that far gone.

  “Was it one of those love books?”

  “It was sad.”

  “Mom, you need to stay away from sad books. You were flipping out. I thought someone had died.”

  “Good idea.”

  “So it was just a book. Nothing bad happened?”

  “No. Nothing bad.”

  “Good. You should read happier books from now on. Something that makes you laugh, instead.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  Adam, sandwich and phone in hand, took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom. “No problem.” He called back with a snicker.

  The house phone rang. No one ever called us on it other than telemarketers. I’m not sure why we still had one, other than we never remembered to cancel the service.

  Reaching for it, I spoke sardonically, “Sorry, we’re not interested, unless it’s a free trip to Saint Lucia.”

  “Only if you let me take you.” There was no mistaking that sound. The husky voice had turned me into jelly for years. Butterflies exploded in my belly.

  Oh God. I was in the twilight zone. Minutes ago, I’d collapsed into a sniveling heap from a song that reminded me of him, and now he was murmuring in my ear. My heart raced uncontrollably.

  “Josh? Is that you?”

  Of course, it was Josh. His sexy voice was chiseled on my brain, he’d whispered words of love in my ear for sixteen years.

  “Yes, it’s me. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard your voice. God, I miss you.” He groaned through the receiver. “I think about you every day.”

  Can a person actually sound handsome? He did; low and sexy with just the right hint of humor. It took me back to a place and time when we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Back when, an afternoon in bed was all we ever wanted. His voice stroked parts of me that were no longer his to touch.

  My eyes flew to the doorway, not sure why. Dan, the man who’d rescued me from the dark hole I’d buried myself in, wouldn’t be home for another hour. But hearing Josh made me think I was somehow cheating on my husband. My hand pressed against my chest trying to still
my beating heart.

  I, on the other hand, squeaked when I spoke. It hurt my ears. “Josh, what a surprise. Isn’t Adam answering his cell phone?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t call him. I called you.”

  Alarms went off in my head. Other than making arrangements for Adam, I tried to avoid conversations with Josh as much as possible. I was afraid to talk to him. Terrified that the walls around my buried feelings weren’t strong enough to hold them back.

  Something’s changed. He’s calling to discuss how to break whatever news he had to our son? Or maybe he’s moving to Europe. Josh isn’t what you’d call settled. At last count, he’d had eight live-in girlfriends. Adam had witnessed his father’s saga of broken romances. Josh ran through women like most men change their underwear.

  We should have Josh Gavin badges. After all, I do have the honor of being his only wife, now ex-wife, and Adam is his only child. Josh is one of the hot movie stars women dream about, his badges would be worth something on e-bay.

  “Why are you calling?”

  His laugh was bittersweet. Oh God. This was going to be bad. “What’s wrong? Is it something serious? Is that why you’re calling me, not Adam?” My voice cracked.

  I wasn’t overdramatic. What ex-husband calls years after the divorce to tell his ex-wife he misses her? Marching blindly around the family room on shaking legs, my eyes squeezed back the tears. Maybe he was getting married. My heart pounded in my chest anticipating the news. Oh, this was too much. After years of trying to forget, trying to bury the memories deep inside, I was drowning in pain again.

  “There is nothing wrong, not physically at least.”

  My lungs exhaled the air I’d held.

  “Do you really care?” His voice was cushioned in a swirl of smoke. It washed over my body like a lover’s hands.

  “Of course I care. I’m his mother. If there is anything wrong, Adam will be devastated.”

  A knot formed in my belly waiting for him to get to the point. It was okay to have visions in my mind, but talking to him felt wrong. Although I’d locked all my feelings for Josh away, one phone call, and they’d crashed to the surface like a tidal wave. It wasn’t the call, it was the other stuff my body was doing. My skin was alive, remembering.

  “No, would you care? Not because you’re Adam’s mother, but because we loved each other. We were best friends. It was always the two of us.”

  Something must be wrong. Why else would he be saying these things? It had been hours of screaming insults at each other since we’d last had any kind of civil conversation. I desperately missed the best friend I’d had since I was sixteen, but the louse of a cheating husband he’d turned into could go to hell.

  “You’re ill.” A sob broke loose. I covered my mouth to stop any others, my eyes blinded by tears.

  “Laura, I’m not sick.” He breathed into the phone. Dear God, my mind saw a vision of his chiseled chest expanding and contracting with the effort. My foot tapped on the floor.

  “Why?” My nose dripped, and I wiped it with the back of my hand. “Why would you call me after all this time?”

  “It’s our anniversary.” His voice was soft, filled with sadness.

  That explained my meltdown. I’d taken a crazy walk down memory lane without knowing what pushed me in that direction. But what the fuck, we’d had three others since our divorce. What was different about this one?

  “Which one? Our wedding or divorce?”

  “Our first date, our engagement, and our wedding.” He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t plan Adam’s birth for today as well.”

  Holy moly. Did he actually remember my whacky desire to coordinate all the highlights of our relationship into one date? It made perfect sense to me at the time. Not for any esoteric reason, it was just easier to remember all of them, but hey, it obviously worked.

  “I’m not sure I’m following you? You called to wish me a happy ex-anniversary?”

  “No. I needed to hear your voice. I miss you. God, I miss you so much.”

  This conversation was taking me to the edge of a precipice littered with red flags. I’d already cried my eyes out because of the image of him singing to me. Now he was telling me that he wanted to hear my voice. My mind went haywire. Not just my mind, the nerves in my nether region were doing some kind of tango. I had to remind myself he was a bastard. He couldn’t be trusted.

  “Is something wrong? Did the love of your life just dump you?”

  His laughter rang like music in my ear. He had the best laugh, it curled my toes.

  “You dumped me years ago. Since then, there’s been a revolving door of women, but no one can replace you in my heart. You’re the love of my life.”

  Oh, dear God. This wasn’t happening. Where was Dan? I needed my husband to walk through the door to yell his usual greeting Hey babe, what’s for dinner? Forget dinner, we’ll live on love. He said it every night, rain or shine like the postman. He always brought me down from the edge of craziness.

  “I . . . uh . . . don’t know how to respond. You’ve kind of taken me by surprise.” No kidding. Years after our divorce and he’s decided to whisper sweet nothings in my ear.

  “I know. I’ve tried not to call, but I needed to hear your voice. I’ve fought the urge, but today, somehow, it was impossible.”

  My body felt cold. My teeth chattered. I was having a severe case of nerves.

  “Hey mom, what are we having for dinner tonight?”

  I jumped, my body seizing when Adam threw himself on the sofa and started surfing the channels on the television. Hesitating, the remote suspended in the air, his brows furrowed, looking at me with a puzzled look.

  “Are you still crying? Your teeth are chattering. Do you want me to turn the air off?”

  “Is that Adam? Why are you crying? Is there something wrong? Baby, talk to me. Jesus, please don’t cry. I can’t stand it when you cry.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. The conversation was spiraling out of control.

  “Listen, I can’t talk right now. Adam is waving the remote at me.”

  “Let me speak to him.”

  “Uh. That’s not a good idea.”

  “Oh, right. He’d wonder why his dad was talking to his mom. That’s fucking crazy. We should talk daily.”

  My brain felt like it was leaking from my ears. Did my ex just suggest we converse daily?

  “I’m not sure that would be a good idea.” No way could I go through this on a daily basis. Dan would be visiting me in a mental hospital.

  “Mom, who are you talking too? Your voice is weird.”

  I sound weird. You should hear the other end of this conversation.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. Earlier, before Adam comes home.”

  No, you can’t do that. I can’t have phone sex with my ex-husband.

  The line went dead. The phone tumbled back into the cradle without my knowing the reason for his call. He obviously had something he wanted to talk about. Tomorrow, I would make him get to the point. He wasn’t going to sucker me into a walk down memory lane.

  My heart skipped a beat when the front door opened. Dan was home.

  “Hey babe, what’s for dinner? Forget dinner, we’ll live on love.”

  He leaned against the doorway to the family room, his lips curled into a sexy smile. His look and the twinkle in his eyes told me I was the only woman in the world for him. What was wrong with me?

  My eyes drank in his face. His soft blue eyes were fringed with ridiculously long, dark lashes, and his wavy dark brown hair was always tousled. Whenever he was thinking, he had a habit of running his fingers through it. His best feature was his body. It drove me to the brink of ecstasy time and time again. He was every bit as handsome as Josh. No, he wasn’t a movie star, he was an advertising executive who played a mean piano, but he was mine. His beauty went to the bone.

  I rushed to him, my eyes glued to his. I reached around his waist, pulling his hard body to me. As his arms circled around me,
the pain slowly receded to the dark hole reserved for all thoughts of Josh.

  “Hey babe. How was your day?” My fingers clutched his shirt my hand slipping inside to stroke the hair on his chest. He leaned down to kiss me, and my lips clung to his. It wasn’t our usual ‘I’m home smooch’ instead my body rubbed against him, my leg worming its way between his. I sighed when his legs tightened around mine.

  “Wow. What was that all about? Do I need to rent a room for us?” he whispered nibbling on my earlobe.

  It was an inside joke. During the first year of our marriage, we’d been caught in the act several times by Adam. Dan would rent a hotel room downtown once a month so we could have wild, noisy sex, and sleep naked in each other’s arms without worrying about Adam barging into our room.

  “No. You do just fine without a hotel room.” Now that he was home, I was grounded. My trip down memory lane fading into the recess of my mind.

  He drew me to him, his hands firmly planted on my hips. His body rubbed against mine. “I’ll make reservations.”

  We were okay. I was still a pool of desire whenever he was near me, touching me in places that only he had access to.

  “You guys are grossing me out. Mom, are we eating tonight?”

  I reached up to kiss his cheek. “Back to the grind.”

  Dan followed me to the kitchen, his hands on my waist. “Great. We can grind in the kitchen.”

  “Sick.” Adam groused.

  “Someday you’ll have a girl who will turn your world inside out. Talk to me then.” Dan teased over his shoulder, but Adam had already gone back to watching his show.

  Out of Adam’s sight, Dan drew me into his arms, grinding his hips against mine, the hard bulge in his pants started a fire in my belly. His tongue ran across my lips, tracing the outline of my jaw before making its way to the hollow of my throat, where it licked on my flesh. I trembled when his tongue entered my mouth, caressing and tasting me. My body arched when his hand cradled my breast, gently squeezing my nipple.