This fit.
They fit.
Resting his hands on either side of her soft face, he continued to discover her sweet mouth. Aside from firing a football down a field, touching her felt like the most natural thing he had ever experienced. His body’s response to her hands around his neck deepening their kiss, was palpable and it was taking every ounce of will power he had to break the kiss before he did something impulsive, like shredding her clothes off like a savage on a public beach.
Ripping his mouth from hers, he fought to catch his breath.
“We need to slow down sweetheart,” he said, his mouth still starving for hers.
“I’m so sorry,” she said struggling to calm her own heavy breathing. “I didn’t mean to-“
“Don’t you apologize, Star,” he ordered getting lost in her eyes again, hoping he wasn’t imagining the hunger he saw in them matching the inferno inside his body.
Physically collecting himself, he moved for her again, his body a magnet for her, stopping when his forehead touched hers.
“Star?”
“Star,” he repeated, lowering his voice, running his hands up her shivering arms. “You’re a brilliant star, Liv. My star.”
A small smile gracing her face, she gently lifted her chin, allowing her lips to brush his again. Relishing the rush of heat charging through his veins and the peacefulness overtaking his mind, he enclosed his mouth over hers, refusing to fight anymore. Refusing to make excuses.
Not when it felt so damn good to give in.
To give in to her.
4
5 YEARS LATER…
A light tapping on her forehead, Alivia opened her eyes against the harsh morning sunlight finding her daughter nestled under the oversized covers beside her making a silly face. Taking a moment to admire her tiny sweet face and little blonde curls sticking up from the back of her head, she rolled her head to look to the other side of the bed, only to find her other daughter giggling and mirroring the same silly face. And they were essentially the exact same face.
“Wake up Mama!” Hailey shouted, bouncing up and down, taking the liberty of using the bed as her own personal trampoline.
“Are we late for school, yet?” Hannah asked, joining her sister in the jumping match.
“Oh gosh!” Alivia sat up, throwing the warm covers off as she struggled to jump out of bed, but a one hundred pound bulldog laying in-between her legs grounded her to the mattress.
7:50? How did that happen?
“No, not today,” she pleaded, untangling her legs from Mr. Beans. She had a big wedding out on the Plantation to set-up for and it was not the day to be late.
“Come on girls, we need to go,” she said, grabbing Hannah in her arms mid jump, as the ball of energy shrieked in excitement.
“Now.”
Fifteen minutes, two Pop-Tarts and three glasses of orange juice later, Alivia packed lunches with Mr. Beans at her feet begging for his own breakfast.
“Hailey, do you have your doll ready for show and tell?” she asked shoving pudding cups and fruit snacks into both girls’ lunch boxes.
“Yep! It’s already in my bag Mama,” Hailey said proudly, dropping crumbs everywhere. “I checked my bag three times last night.”
“Okay, good,” she smiled at her daughter’s inherited obsessive trait of triple checking everything. Just like her mama.
“We need to hurry up,” she recited for what felt like the hundredth time. Scattering around the kitchen, she looked for the papers for the day’s wedding, but with no luck. This is why she couldn’t oversleep. There was never enough time. The door opened off the side of the kitchen as Magda, her baby nurse, turned part-time nanny, and all around complete personal lifesaver breezed through the door.
“Good morning my darlings!”
“Nona!” the girls called from the kitchen table, running over to give her a big hug. As much as Alivia adored Magda, the girls loved their “Nona” even more. What originally began as Magda helping with the girls when they were first born after she recovered from a difficult delivery, quickly turned into her staying to help when she went back to work again; and by the time the girls’ first birthday rolled around, nobody could bear to see Magda leave. She was family. And so she had stayed. Thankfully running the show when Alivia was at work.
“You’re here late,” Magda said checking her watch. “It’s almost 8:30.”
“I know,” Alivia whined, scooping the crumbs off the table into her hand. “Get your backpacks girls.”
“I got that,” Magda scolded, waving her away from cleaning up breakfast. “Go, get out of here.”
The kitchen door opened again as she watched Ross stroll in, checking his emails as his Starbucks rested comfortably in the other. She wanted to smack him. She couldn’t even remember a time when she had been able to stroll into any place in the morning blissfully unaware of any chaos.
“Uncle Ross!” Both girls called running from the family room over to him for a hug. Setting his coffee down on the counter, he bent down embracing the girls into a hug, giving each an Eskimo kiss. Something he had done with them since they had been born, and something that only became cuter to watch as they grew. She was blessed that Ross had such a great relationship with her daughters. She often felt guilty that she was an only child and didn’t have any brothers or sisters who would ultimately produce cousins for the girls, but she found comfort that despite not having a large family tree, the girls still knew that they had so many people around them who loved them. Especially people who meant so much to her.
“Why aren’t you girls at school yet?” Ross asked, looking to her for an answer.
“I overslept, okay! I haven’t had more than fifteen hours of sleep all week!” she yelled shaking her head. Why was everyone getting on her case today? Stepping around Ross she pulled two juice boxes from the refrigerator, tossing them into the lunch boxes avoiding his stare. She swore to herself that she wouldn’t do this. Wouldn’t take her frustrations out on anybody, no matter how high strung she was.
“This lack of sleep,” he asked waving his hand in the air, “and short temper wouldn’t have anything to do with this weekend, now would it?”
Running around the house like a wild woman hadn’t left her with much time to think about the looming weekend ahead, the sole purpose for her sleepless nights. Oh, who was she kidding, of corse she was thinking about it. Not only was it the girls’ fourth birthday party, in which, she felt the need to invite over fifty people into her home, but he would be coming home for the first time in almost a year.
“Can we not go there right now?” she asked, shifting the party supplies off the table in search of the wedding blueprints. She was already drained from the chaotic morning, desperately in need of the rest of the day running smoother if she had any hopes of getting out alive.
“I can’t find the papers for this wedding!” she said pressing the heel of her hand into her head.
Just breathe.
“Listen, go take the girls to school and I will meet you at the venue in forty with the papers,” Ross assured, pushing her towards the door.
“8:40,” Magda called from upstairs reminding her that they needed to be on the road about five minutes ago.
“Let’s go girls,” Alivia said, picking up her purse and her keys from the counter. “Did I ever tell you that making you partner was the best idea I’ve ever had?”
“Yes. Many times, lovey, now go!”
Pulling up to school with only two minutes to spare, Alivia watched the girls walk inside the building with their teacher, their thin blonde curls bouncing widely around their faces. She treasured her mornings with the girls. Her schedule was ridiculous and unpredictable and the mornings were their time to eat together, sing in the car, and walk them into their classroom. Not being forced to do drop-off at the curb practically pushing them out of the car. It was important to her, having one small morsel of a routine with the girls, especially after the past year.
She and Ross hadn’t wasted a single second setting up the rustically chic reception site on the large open grounds of the exceptionally beautiful magnolia plantation. Ross had fussed over the long tables, ensuring they were in perfect unison inside the tent, as she obsessed over the perfect placement of over a hundred ornate centerpieces. The bucolic branches stood tall above the dusty blue magnolias enlaced with hanging crystals that coordinated beautifully with the old oak trees covered in Spanish moss surrounding the ceremony sight. Between putting the fear of God into the young valet drivers, arranging the tables for cocktail hour, tending to the bride, and making sure every last detail was attended to, the day had flown by so quickly; she hadn’t even had a moment to think. And not thinking at the moment was good. Very good. Tying the last grey bow on the back of the chivari chair, she ran through her mandatory final inspection, thoroughly impressed with another job well done. Collapsing into a chair next to Ross who was busy revising the event schedule, she stared straight up into the sparkling chandelier hanging in the middle of the tent.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and run this wedding tonight?”
“Nope.”
“I just feel bad, you worked the last two weekends,” she said, rolling her head sideways to look at him, his eyes concentrated on his paperwork as usual. “Especially that sweet sixteen from hell two weeks ago.”
“Whitney and I can handle it.”
It was true. Ross ran an event like a fine tuned machine and paired with their assistant Whitney’s impeccable organization skills, they were more than capable of taking care of this wedding. So then why did she want to stay so badly?
“I can just-”
“Liv. Go home,” he ordered, finally looking up from his papers. “You have the girls’ birthday party tomorrow and you will have your hands full with you know who.”
Snickering, she scanned the beautiful room again. Yes, she would have her hands full but it was a lot easier to stay busy and work herself into a state of sheer exhaustion than it was to allow her mind to wander all through the night. Which had been the case for the past twelve months.
“Please, don’t remind me.” She yawned, her stomach flipping simultaneously at the thought.
Standing up, she reluctantly slipped on her jacket, checking the time. The guests would be arriving for the ceremony shortly and she still needed to peep in on the sweet bride one last time.
“Thank you,” she said placing a kiss on his cheek. “Chelsea is coming over tonight to help me with the party favors so call me if you need anything.”
“I won’t. But do me a favor,” he ordered looking right through her. “Keep your chin up.”
* * *
The only nuptials Alivia got to oversee was Barbie and Ken’s dream wedding, followed by the Disney movie of the night, all before getting both girls fed, bathed, and in bed. Wandering down the steps, she turned off the upstairs lights and drifted into the kitchen.
The day had been exhausting from start to finish and it wasn’t even over yet. What she wouldn’t do for a hot bubble bath, unwinding in the tub before surrendering herself to bed. Moaning out loud at the mere thought, she picked up the party favor bags carrying them into the kitchen as Chelsea came in through the kitchen door holding a bottle of wine in each hand.
“Red or white?” she asked, weighing the options.
“After today? Definitely the red!”
“Ooooh, that bad, huh?” Chelsea asked, placing the bottles on the island in the middle of the kitchen.
“You have no idea,” she snorted reaching for two wine glasses from the breakfront in the dining room. Regardless of the fact that she wasn’t fully prepared for the party tomorrow, she was even less prepared to be under the same roof as her husband again.
“How is Asher?” she asked, partly because she truly wanted to know about her sweet godson and in part to keep Chelsea from pushing her to talk about tomorrow.
Almost two years ago, during the regular season for the Mavericks, Chelsea had decided to be impulsive for the first time in her life, surprising Trevor at his hotel room while on the road for a game in Seattle. One month later, Chelsea had called her in a panic as they both stood in her bathroom looking down at the positive pregnancy test. Naturally, Trevor had been thrilled, but Chelsea was concerned. Growing up in a Christian household all her life, her parents already disapproved of her dropping everything and leaving home with Trevor before marriage and frowned upon his career as an athlete. It was a constant battle between daughter and parents and it wore on Chelsea. She never felt the rush to marry Trevor despite her parent’s disapproval although he had proposed ninety-nine times. As Chelsea sobbed into a margarita after another huge blow up with her parents, she swore to Alivia that she wouldn’t rush to get married just to make her parents happy. She and Trevor were happy. End of story. Once news about the pregnancy broke, her parents were furious, cutting off the last thread of their relationship, shutting their only daughter out of their lives. Threatening to only propose one more time, Trevor got down on one knee right before midnight during their annual New Year’s Eve party begging her to marry him for the hundredth time. Breaking her down, Trevor finally got his “yes” that he so desperately wanted.
“He’s great,” Chelsea smiled, sitting down at the kitchen table. “He was a ball of energy this week, but great. We are having issues with bedtime now though. He refuses to sleep alone.” She shook her head looking every bit concerned as any new mama would during their first year of motherhood.
“All kids go through that,” Alivia assured her, opening the bag of small, impractical plastic toys. “But, I also wouldn’t be surprised if his teeth started coming in very shortly.”
Sighing, Chelsea picked up her glass. “All I know is that he better be this hard to get into bed when he’s sixteen!” she said taking a quick swig of her wine causing them both to laugh. This is exactly what she needed. Her best friend, some wine, and maybe an escape plan wouldn’t hurt either.
Armed with wine, they assembled the party favor bags filling them with mermaid candy, plastic jewelry, toys, and t-shirts. Yes, maybe it was a little overboard, but that’s what happened when the person throwing the party was a professional planner.
“How are the wedding ideas coming along?” Alivia asked, taking a sip of her delicious red.
“They aren’t,” Chelsea mumbled concentrating exceptionally hard on tying a bow around a favor bag.
Shaking her head, Alivia grabbed another bag. Chelsea and her wedding was going to be the death of her. How in the world was she supposed to throw her best friend the wedding of her dreams when she wouldn’t even come to a decision on a cake or a main entree?
“Chels-“
“I know, I know,” she whined not taking her eyes off the favor bag. “But I told you already, I just wanted me and Trevor to elope and then have an intimate dinner with a few friends and family at that Italian restaurant on Front Street.”
“And I told you a long time ago that Trevor would never agree to that,” Alivia said eyeing her deliberately. “He is mister traditional and the only son. He would never do that to his parents,” she explained stuffing another bag with candy. Coming from a very large and very close knit family, Trevor was adamant about having his family involved with a big, traditional wedding. But for as much as Chelsea was against having a big wedding, Alivia wasn’t convinced it had anything to do with Trevor and his overbearing family and everything to do with the problems with her own.
“I know,” she said looking at all the favor supplies in front of her. “I just don’t think I want all the fuss and attention.”
“I know sweetheart, but I promise as your best friend and wedding planner, your day will be exceptional. And comfortable,” Alivia assured, shooting her a wink.
“Don’t forget maid of honor, too,” Chelsea smiled proudly. “I mean, matron of honor,” she corrected herself realizing her mistake.
Ouch.
Trying to cease the sting in her
chest, Alivia shook her head slowly. “Does it really matter at this point?” she asked, wrapping the small ribbon around her finger idly. Why did it still hurt so badly whenever somebody mentioned her marriage? Probably because hearing it from other people made it all the more real.
“It absolutely matters,” Chelsea said, getting up from the table and heading towards the pantry. “And I’m just curious how long we are going to avoid the infinite topic of the evening?”
“And what topic would that be?” she asked innocently. Avoiding the entire conversation sounded like a wonderful idea actually.
“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that your husband…who you haven’t seen or had any real contact with in almost a year, is moving back home tomorrow and you will both be forced to live under the same roof again?” Chelsea asked, using the pretzel rod in her hand to emphasize her every word.
Italians.
“Nope! I’d rather not talk about it,” she said, focusing on the favor bag in front of her. She had done a fairly good job avoiding the topic for the past year and she still had fifteen more hours before she had to face her new reality and she was in no hurry.
“You know Liv, just ignoring it won’t make it go away.” Chelsea placed her hand on top of hers, forcing her to look up. She knew that. She did. But it would be a whole lot easier putting on a happy show for the girls by avoiding all the repressed feelings threatening to erupt about not only seeing her husband again, but living with him too.
“Why is he moving back in again?” Chelsea asked munching on another pretzel and Alivia wanted to laugh. Chelsea knew good and well why he was moving back and her attempts at keeping the conversation on her marriage were as transparent as the glass she was sipping wine from. She couldn’t fault her friend for wanting to push the matter. If anything had ever happened between Chelsea and Trevor, she would have stopped at nothing until everyone was living happily ever after again.
False Start (Mavericks #1) Page 5