Screw It

by Nicki DeStasi

  He cups my jaw and swipes his thumb. “Don’t want to leave you. Last time I did that, someone shot you.”

  I snort and then wince. “Pretty sure all the people who hate me are dead.”

  It’s his turn to wince. I know he was doing his job, but it still doesn’t mean taking someone’s life doesn’t cut deep with him.

  Sympathy from me. I barely stop myself from laughing. I guess people can change.

  “Right.” He pulls in a deep breath. “Probably should go ’cause the nurse at the door is looking at me like she’ll try to march me out herself. The staff has been nice enough to let me stay, but seeing as you’re doing better, I shouldn’t press my luck. Need to get the place ready for when you get home anyway.”

  I smile, glance at the nurse, and bite my lip to hold back my laughter.

  He stands and gently takes my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, tilting it up. “Love you, sweets.”

  I close my eyes, my heart filling with what he just gave me. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to hearing those words from him.

  When I open my eyes, I give it back. “Love you, too, honey.”

  Four Months Later

  Lying in bed with my woman naked on her side and me on mine, I move my hand over her firm ass. “How did it go today?”

  She knows what I mean. Every Monday after her breakfast rush, she makes a pit stop by her mom’s grave. The first couple of times I went with her, but after a while, I knew she needed that time to herself, so I gave it to her.

  She sucks in a breath. “Good. Hard. But I’m getting there.”

  I sweep my thumb across her freckles. “Good.”

  “The best piece of advice is what your mom told me, but it’s also the hardest to do.”

  Knowing my mom is nearly as good with advice as my dad, I tilt my chin, telling her to go on.

  “She was telling me about the Serenity Prayer—Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

  My chest warms, knowing my mom gave her that and Becca accepted it, but also aches, seeing as that’s advice she should have had a long fucking time ago.

  “Good advice, sweets.”

  “Yeah, honey, it is. But accepting is the hardest. I can’t change my mom being gone. I can’t change the fact that her parents are dead, and I have no one to tell me about her. I wish I knew why she led that life, and I don’t. I can’t change it, and it’s hard to let it lie.”

  “You could hire a PI, see if you could find someone who knew her.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I need to leave it alone.”

  My eyebrows pull together. “But—”

  She puts a hand to my chest. “I had a shitty childhood. My mom put me in that place, and that’s not okay.”

  My face relaxes. “No, sweets, it’s never okay to leave a child home alone and to get shitfaced every night. You’re fucking lucky you survived childhood.”

  She winces, her eyes sliding away. I shift my hand through her hair until she brings her eyes back to mine.

  “You’re right. And that’s part of why I want to just let it be. I’ll always struggle with my mom’s memory, her raising me in that crappy place, but I also have some really good memories to hold on to. It helps a little to know she wasn’t a hooker, but nothing can excuse the way she brought me up. I might learn good things about my mom, but I might learn bad, too. I’m struggling already with the knowledge I have. I don’t need more.”

  I disagree, but I get it. I bite my tongue and give a short nod.

  “I have to look forward.”

  I sift my fingers through her hair again. “Right.”

  “I can’t change the past, so I have to accept it and move on.”

  My finger hits a tangle, and I work it out. “Right.”

  “Mom’s at peace, and I have to hold on to mine.”

  My eyes tighten. “You trying to convince me or you?”

  She averts her eyes, and then she mutters, “Both.”

  I roll, so I’m covering her little body with mine. Her legs fall to the sides, and my hips drop between them. My dick chubs even though I had her not ten minutes ago. The content of the conversation doesn’t do one thing to deter my body’s reaction. Ignoring my growing dick, I dip my head and press my lips on the scar on her chest. Letting my lips linger, my own demons surface.

  “I…l-lo…ve…y-y…you.”

  Never in my life will I forget the feeling or the panic of nearly losing her. Never in my life will I take for granted the beauty I have with me in this bed.

  When I pull away, my eyes lock with hers. “Life’s a journey.”

  She presses her lips together, her eyes twinkling, as her body shakes until the laughter bubbles out. She shoves her face in my neck, and I can’t help but grin.

  Pulling away, she smiles up at me. “Honey, seriously? That’s the best you’ve got? Those are your sage words of wisdom?”

  My body moves against hers as I chuckle. “Life is like a box of chocolates?”

  Throwing her head back against the pillow, her laughter fills the room, and I feel it in my gut.

  Once she calms, my smile dies, and I drop my head and kiss her nose. “I didn’t get time in with my parents today to soak up the wisdom vibe, but you know what I mean.”

  Her eyes soften. “Yeah.”

  I kiss her nose again. “You’ve got some heavy shit in your soul, sweets. I get that. Fuck, anyone would. All I’m saying is, you work out the bitter the best you can, and you’ll live a happy life. Life’s gonna get its punches in. Sometimes, they’ll be big, and sometimes, they’ll be small, but life will hand you beauty, too. I know you’re struggling with those punches that hit you as a kid, but you had some beauty. My mom’s right, and so are you. Hold on to the beauty, and in the best way you can, accept that you can’t change the past. My dad told my brother once, emotional scars are like physical scars. They can heal, but there will also be a mark to remind you of the wound. You got some scars, baby, some deep ones, and I’ve got some of my own. There’s not one person on this earth who doesn’t have scars, and they all, on some level, struggle against those wounds reopening.”

  She holds my eyes. “That sucks.”

  “That’s life. That’s why we gotta hold tight to beauty, hold tight to the people we love.”

  Tears hit her eyes, and I ignore them ’cause I know she hates getting emotional.

  She doesn’t ignore them. “Quick, be a dick.”

  I bust out laughing and shove my face in her neck.

  “Thought you didn’t get the wisdom vibe?” Her tone is shaky.

  Lifting my head but still chuckling, I say, “Made my own.”

  Her smile is wobbly, but she’s beating back the tears. She whispers, “Good.”

  One side of my mouth quirks up, knowing she means life is good, not just that I found my own words of wisdom. She’s right—life is good. My world is complete. I got the girl. The journey to getting where we are now has been a goddamn pain in my ass at times, but if I get this woman beside me every morning and every night, then I won’t quibble.

  My words earlier echo in my head. Life is a journey.

  As corny as the saying is, it’s true. Life does have its smooth pavements and potholes and not one person’s road of life is the same. I’m just happy I finally found the woman I want sitting in the passenger seat, taking that journey with me.

  I swipe my thumb over her freckles on the apple of her cheek. My voice is hoarse, full of meaning when I say, “Yeah, sweets. Good.”

  Tears well in her eyes as she gives me a shaky smile, telling me she understands how much I fucking love her.

  She cups my jaw with her little hand. “Love you, honey.”

  My response is to kiss the breath out of her.

  The End

  One Year and Four Months Later

  Exactly Two Years Since Zach and Becca Met Again

  It’s Sat
urday, the lunch hour has died down. I’m eating my meatball sub, and Zach’s scarfing a chicken parm sub. We’re standing close in my food truck, and he has sauce on the corner of his mouth. I grab him around the neck and pull him down to me before licking the sauce from his face.

  He smiles, and it’s a tad stilted. The last month or so, he’s been giving me these off looks, and it makes my gut churn. What we have is good, solid, fucking magnificent, so I’ve ignored those looks.

  Now, after getting them for a month, I have to ask, “You okay, honey?”

  “Fine.” His voice cracks.

  My stomach rolls, and for the first time in a long time, my face blanks.

  “Yo! Service, woman!”

  The sound of Matt’s voice makes me smile wide and unguarded.

  My food truck has been a hit, and I love it.

  Even in this shitty economy, word spread fast that my food was the shit. After the first month, I was asked to cater a few business meetings, and the idea ballooned in my head, so I hired Scott to help. He was a twenty-year-old kid off the streets, but I saw something in him. His work ethic was near mine, so I took a chance on him. I was right.

  Scott has been under my employment for nearly a year, and he works his ass off. I pay him pretty well for doing it. His work takes the place of three pissant teenage girls gossiping about their goddamn nail polish.

  I hit the window, and my heart warms as I see Matt and Krissy with their kids—now, seven and five—at my business for what seems like the millionth time in the last year and change.

  “What can I getcha?”

  “I want a hot dog!” Ana shouts.

  “Me, too!” Alison shrieks beside her sister.

  I smile big. “Right, two dogs. What can I get Mom and Dad?”

  “Regular.” Matt plants his hands on the counter outside the truck.

  Krissy smiles huge and says, “Me, too.”

  I narrow my eyes briefly at Krissy’s huge smile and call to Zach. By a minor miracle and a fuckload of guidance, he has learned a thing or two about cooking, and he has become a godsend, helping me in the kitchen.

  “Need two hot dogs, a sausage sub, and a veggie sub. I’ll toss in the fries.”

  I throw in the hand-cut, hand-seasoned fries and then ring them up as wholesale.

  “Here ya go.” Zach’s voice comes from my side.

  Without looking, I hold my hand out, but when something small hits my hand, I look down to see a square black velvet jewelry box. My heart thumps in my chest, and my mind blanks as my gaze shoots to Zach.

  His eyes are steady on mine. “I’m not getting down on one knee ’cause we’re partners, partners in life, and you know I love you, but that’s just not me.”

  Speechless, I don’t respond, but if I could form a coherent thought, he’d be right. I’d feel crazy weird if he knelt in front of me. It’s not him. It’s not us.

  He goes on to tip my world off its axis, “You’re a good woman inside and out. I know life with you will drive me nuts, but I’ll cherish every moment.”

  My shaking hand flies to my mouth, and I press my fingers to my lips. I never thought I’d have this. I never thought I’d find a man who knew me, everything about me, and not only accepted everything that came with me, but also loved my quirks.

  He steps closer and takes my right hand in his, intertwining our fingers. My left hand is still holding the box.

  “Love you, sweets, deep down to my bones. I want to build a life with you, want to build a family with you. You’re my end, my woman, the woman I’m meant to love until I take my last breath.”

  My eyes sting, and I bite my lip harder than necessary to stop the tears from falling.

  He steps even closer so that only six inches of space separates us. Letting go of my hand, he takes my left one and lifts it to pry the box from it. He takes out the ring, but I don’t catch sight of it. He tosses the box on the counter and grabs my left hand again, isolating my ring finger. Then, he slides the ring onto it.

  Tears blur my vision, my chest exploding, and my head grows fuzzy. I can’t focus on the ring, so I lift my watery eyes to Zach, and my vision clears enough to take him in.

  “Marry me.” His voice is soft and gentle.

  Then, it hits me like a sledgehammer—ice and fear.

  I can’t do this. I won’t make a good wife. And family? How can I build my empire and raise a family? And me raising a family? Ha!

  “No,” I blurt. Despite the fear, I immediately want to take back the word.

  His head jerks.

  Ana says, “She’s supposed to say yes, isn’t she, Daddy?”

  Zach lifts an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No.” My eyes widen, and goose bumps spring up on my skin.

  He presses his lips together. “Well, why the fuck not?”

  I clench my teeth, my trembling body splitting in two. “I can’t do this.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Babe, fucking seriously?”

  My bottom lip trembles, but my voice hits ear-piercing levels. “Yeah, seriously! I can’t marry you!”

  His eyes scan my face before his lip twitches.

  I jab my finger into his chest. “Don’t do the lip twitch when I’m breaking up with you!”

  He full-blown smiles. “Sweets, you’re gonna marry me.” He squeezes my left hand.

  My eyes drift down and lock onto a square solitaire—a huge square solitaire. I don’t know shit about diamonds, but if I were to guesstimate, I’d say three carats.

  My body stills, and my eyes grow wide.

  Fuck, he’s not fucking around.

  “The woman I’m meant to love until I take my last breath.”

  My stomach clenches.

  “It’s not going to be any different, sweetheart. You can still do your business, and I’ll still work. We’ll still fall asleep together and wake up together. You’ll just be doing it while wearing my ring and carrying my name.”

  I close my eyes. That sounds good, too good. Waking up and falling asleep in the arms of a good man, sharing his name, the name he thinks I deserve.

  I whisper, “I won’t be a good wife.”

  He cups my jaw. “How do you figure that?”

  Tears leak. “I don’t know how.”

  He sighs, but my eyes stay closed.

  “Right. We’re living together. You cook, and you clean. I take out the trash and do the dishes. You support me, and I support you. You’re still an immature drama queen, and I’m still a dick, but we make it work, and it works fucking phenomenally. We’re practically married already. I’m just making it official.”

  My eyes crack open, and I take in his soft and patient expression.

  Fuck me. What did I do to deserve this man?

  “Okay.” My response is just above a whisper.

  “Sweets.”

  “What?”

  “You, sweets.”

  I know what he’s saying. He thinks I’m sweet, and I cherish him thinking that thought. I let the smooth feeling slide through me, warming every molecule of my body.

  He sweeps his thumb along my cheekbone. “You’re gonna marry me.”

  My pulse throbs, but I nod. “Only if we keep the wedding small—your immediate family and mine.”

  His jaw tightens. It’s probably because he has a gigantic extended family, but I hate a lot of people, especially those I barely know. I don’t want an already stressful day making me gnaw my nails to the quick.

  His eyes soften. “I can do that for you.”

  I pull in a breath. My anxiety from earlier is still lingering, but I power through. “Okay.”

  He grins. “Okay.”

  I press my lips together. “Screw you.”

  His grin deepens. “Love you, too, sweets.”

  One Year Later

  “Oh my God,” I whisper.

  I’m staring in the mirror as my palms are sweating. My long strapless ivory dress covered in an intricate lace overlay with tiny beads sewn into the sweetheart neckline hu
gs every curve, every line of my body. My hair is pinned at the crown of my head, so my red curls fall in a graceful way instead of their usually chaotic mess, which should earn the hairdresser some type of award. Some of the pins are beaded, adding to the elegance of my hairstyle.

  “Holy fuck,” I whisper. I look like a bride—a beautiful, elegant bride about to meet her white knight to go riding into the sunset, straddling his powerful steed.

  I don’t need a white knight!

  “You look stunning.” Krissy comes to a stop next to me.

  I barely hear her over the stampede happening in my chest and temples. On my ears is the wedding gift Zach gave me—square diamond studs. They are simple and beautiful, and they make me look classy and elegant.

  I can’t do this.

  “You can do this.” Krissy grabs my upper arms and turns me to her. “You can do this.”

  “I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper.

  “Why can’t you do this?”

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply.

  I can totally do this, and I’m being a wimp.

  No, I can’t do this because it’s crazy. Zach drives me insane.

  But he also makes me laugh, makes me feel alive, makes me come so hard that it’s a wonder I don’t pass out. He supports my dreams, and he loves me as I am.

  I open my eyes to look into wet blue ones. “It’s crazy,” I whisper.

  Krissy gives a slight shake of her head, not a hair moving out of place from her tight blonde chignon. “The only thing that would be crazy is you not walking down that aisle and into the arms of the man who brought you out of yourself. You two were made for each other. There is nothing crazy about that, not one thing.”

  Letting my gaze drift over Krissy’s face, I know she’s right. As crazy as it is—me finding love and a normal life with a good man—this is it. Despite my dysfunctional childhood, I’m living my dream, and I have been for nearly three years. I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it, but like Zach says, I’ll cherish it.

  Taking in a deep breath, I square my shoulders. “Let’s get me married.”

  Her beaming smile makes me smile my own.

  Ashley and Alison are wearing matching ivory dresses with emerald green sashes. They’re leaving a trail of flowers down the aisle of the church where the Moretti clan grew up. Next, a puffed up Nick in a gray suit, two shades darker than charcoal, is leading a beaming Ana in a simple knee-length, spaghetti-strapped green satin dress.