One Last Play
Page 1
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Foreword
Theodora
Luciano
Bonus - Family Vacation
Stay Connected!
Join The Process!
About the Author
One Last Play
A Sports Romance
Aja Cole
Contents
Foreword
1. Theodora
2. Theodora
3. Luciano
4. Theodora
5. Theodora
6. Luciano
7. Theodora
8. Luciano
9. Theodora
10. Luciano
11. Theodora
12. Theodora
13. Luciano
14. Theodora
15. Luciano
16. Theodora
17. Theodora
18. Luciano
19. Theodora
20. Luciano
21. Theodora
22. Luciano
23. Theodora
24. Luciano
25. Theodora
26. Theodora
27. Luciano
28. Theodora
29. Theodora
30. Luciano
31. Theodora
32. Luciano
33. Theodora
34. Theodora
35. Luciano
36. Theodora
37. Epilogue
38. Bonus - Family Vacation
Stay Connected!
Join The Process!
About the Author
About
Despite having his pick of women all over the world, Luciano Silva knows one thing: He will always love the American girl that ran away with his heart.
He has no idea what caused her to cut off contact between them, but now he needs help and she’s the only one who can do it.
Thea James had plans for herself, and they didn’t include marrying a too-sexy-for-anyone’s-good soccer player while she was abroad. To her, it was the biggest mistake she could’ve made and the only one that’s shattered her heart into tiny pieces.
She’s finally ready to move on when he comes back into her life, making her question everything she thought she believed.
Now the two of them must decide if they’ll take this chance to set the record straight, or if this is one love connection that interference will kill for good.
If you like an HEA, explicit sexual situations, and no cliffhangers – this 60,000 word standalone story is for you!
One Last Play
Aja Cole
Copyright © 2017 by Aja Cole.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
First Edition March 2017
To all of my family and friends that have supported me every time I’ve said, “I’m writing a book.”
I couldn’t have done it without your love and constant encouragement.
Thank you.
“We learn our lessons; we get hurt; we want revenge. Then we realize that actually, happiness and forgiving people is the best revenge.”
- Madonna
1
Theodora
“When are you coming to visit me, kiddo?”
“Dad, I was just down there for your birthday,” I scoffed, jamming my key into my door and stumbling over the threshold. I fought to keep the swatches and fabric from tumbling to the floor while I held the phone to my ear, but of course, that was too much to ask.
“Okay, then I’m coming to visit you.”
“You’re lonely, pops. We really need to find you a girlfriend or something.”
“Are you saying you don’t like my company? You’re the one that needs to date, I’ve been married, squirt.”
I rolled my eyes, waving to my best friend who was already camped out on my couch. I was late for our dinner date, but it couldn’t be avoided. Luckily, he had a key and didn’t have to wait outside for me.
“Hey, Mr. James,” Matt yelled and I could practically hear my father perk up. He loved Matthew. He was always telling me I needed to settle down with a nice boy like Matt. Even I was starting to believe it.
“Is that Matt? Ask him if he saw the game last week!” I avoided running into the couch, passing the phone to Matt and then dropping my stuff on the desk on the far side of the room. The last time I’d tried being messenger for those too, I’d ended up feeling a little ignored and a whole lot of annoyed. Best to let them speak directly.
Plus, I didn’t particularly want to hear them talk about the game.
Or a specific player.
But that was neither here nor there. I’d set aside time for Matt because he’d been bugging me about being a workaholic, but I couldn’t help it. I loved interior design. The high of pleasing a client with my ideas, the creative process of figuring out what worked best in the space, and that first look at a new place when I could immediately imagine everything that could be done? There was nothing like it. Pulling me away from a job was next to impossible.
Matt worked in real estate, so he sent more than a few clients my way. The least I could do was make a bit of time for my best friend who always thought of me. My bosses loved that I had a relationship with someone that steered business our way.
It helped that I was a damned good designer. Matt earned points with his clients by recommending me and being able to get them appointments easily. It meant that I was almost constantly working and for me, I couldn’t think of a better situation.
I motioned to Matt that I was going to change before we went to the grocery store to pick out whatever we’d be making for dinner. That was the ritual, when we had time. When I made the time. It was comfortable and fun and there was zero stress involved. Mostly.
With Matt, I could just…exist. I didn’t worry about how I looked or if he’d judge me. I didn’t care, and that was a good thing. No self-consciousness. Lately, I’d been thinking that maybe we could give a relationship a try. He was always honest and there wasn’t any drama or multiple women surrounding him. I didn’t want to have to fight for the spotlight in a guy’s life.
I knew what that was like.
Work kept me busy, but who didn’t want to make time for a relationship with a nice guy? I wasn’t getting any younger.
I shrugged on a deep purple sweatshirt and dark leggings, pulling my black Rihanna Puma slides from my closet. I loved these babies, they were so comfortable and cute. I shamelessly had her Creepers in multiple colors, as well as several colored slides. Shoes were a weakness of mine and I could afford it, so why not? I didn’t like spending too much money on myself, but I made a few exceptions.
My mom always teased me because her vices included more pampering and looking polished. I hadn’t inherited that trait. I was more comfortable in sweats and jeans, but I always kept my image up for my clients.
The second I got home? All bets were off.
I flipped my bedroom light off, grabbing my wallet and walking into the living room to see Matt still on the phone with my dad. I shook my head and grabbed the phone.
“Dad, you can talk Matt’s ear off on his own phone, old man. We’ve got dinner to make.”
“You’re right, Thea. I’l
l call him right now!”
“Don’t! Tomorrow is plenty early enough for the two of you to fangirl over soccer, or football, or whatever.”
“As you wish, Princess,” he teased and I smiled. Princess Bride was a movie we watched over and over together, our little bonding thing since I was a kid, shuffling between divorced parents.
“Love you, Dad.”
“I love you too, Thea-girl.”
He clicked off and almost immediately, a text from my mom popped up.
Damn, those two knew how to avoid each other like the plague, even when they weren’t in the same place!
I’d look at her text a little later. If it was something pressing, she’d call me.
Matthew came up behind me and threw an arm around my shoulders as I opened the door, which I locked from the inside as we walked outside.
“Are we going to make it out of the store in less than an hour tonight?”
“Unless you just agree with what I want…not likely.”
“Two hours it is.” He murmured and I laughed, thanking him as he opened the passenger door of his Charger and I hopped in.
When it came to food, Matt’s tastes and mine were near opposites. If I hated it, he loved it, and vice versa. The last time we’d made dinner, it took us nearly 3 hours to get to checkout in one piece. I was hungry, so if he let me pick dessert, things would go smoothly.
“I’m picking dessert tonight.” He informed me, backing out of his parking spot.
Sigh.
Game on.
2
Theodora
“I’m not eating those mushrooms and that’s final,” I took the offensive container out of the cart and placed it back with its counterparts.
“They add flavor and earthiness,” he scowled, tossing them back into the cart as I ground my teeth.
“If I wanted real earthiness, I’d go pick my vegetables instead of buying them off the shelf. You can buy them, but I’m tossing them in the trash the minute you turn your back.”
“And waste money like that?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “For crappy mushrooms? Yep. Put them back.”
He glared at me for a few seconds, then snatched them out of the buggy and put them back, grumbling the entire way.
He might not have liked it, but he still did it.
That was how most of the trip went. I had things I wouldn’t budge on, and he didn’t like arguing over them for too long, so I won by default.
What? It wasn’t my fault that I was willing to stand up for food I believed in.
We finally made it to the cashier, in only an hour and half this time. It was a record.
He helped me put the things on the belt. I watched and swiped my card at the end before he could. He was always trying to pay for stuff, so I relished when I could swoop in and do it before him. I felt his glare again, but I was used to it. Once I made him crema catalana, he would forgive me.
It was really similar to crème brulee, but instead of baking it, you let it sit to set and flavored it with cinnamon and lemon peel instead of vanilla.
I loved Matt, but the boy didn’t like branching outside of American food. If I cooked him anything that I’d learned to make that wasn’t a burger or apple pie, he balked.
Lately, I was craving some new things. I always loved discovering new recipes, especially traditional international ones.
Crema catalana was one I’d learned whe—
Skkkrrttttt mental topic off limits.
Right.
Shaking my head, I walked silently by the cart as Matt pushed it and then helped him load everything into his trunk.
“We might eat by 10 tonight,” I joked, buckling my seatbelt when everything was put away.
“Thea, this is the last time I’m going grocery shopping with you,” he warned and I patted his thigh lightly, soothingly.
“It’s okay to accept defeat, Matty. I’m just a stronger personality than you.”
He grumbled a few choice cuss words. I turned up the music and settled in for the short drive back home.
I was looking forward to a relaxed night with my best friend.
And hey, maybe we could talk about being a little more…
“Okay, you bring in the last few bags,” I called back, not bothering to turn on the light yet as I gingerly walked towards the kitchen with as many bags as I could carry.
I was going to get most of them inside on one trip or die trying.
Heaving them up onto my kitchen counter, I slipped out of my slides, and padded on the carpet to the light switch.
My apartment was my baby and I loved it. I loved all the open space and the large window. I’d gone with a minimalist decorating scheme. The lack of clutter made me feel free.”
I flipped the switch and turned around quickly, remembering that Matt’s hands would probably be full and I needed to prop the door open.
“Still as oblivious as ever, mi reina.”
I froze.
Everything around me stopped. Time, air, life. It felt like I was sucked back into moments, into a life, that I’d made myself forget about. Into someone.
It was like I was outside of myself. I realized that I could move, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself move from my spot on the floor.
The air around me charged as I felt, sensed, him come up behind me. My eyes closed on their own and despite our history, despite how we ended things – I breathed out one word reverently, like a prayer.
“Luciano.”
“I am glad you haven’t completely forgotten me, mi Teodora.”
Breaking out of my trance, I spun around to face him, throwing my hands out as a barrier when I felt him bring his up to touch me
There was no way I would keep my sanity with any further contact with him.
“You don’t forget assholes that took you for granted and thought that fucking the newest goal digger was a better past time than being at home” I grit out, feeling the familiar fire rising in me that always consumed me when Luciano was around.
Sometimes it manifested as anger. Sometimes as lust. Sometimes, both.
And sometimes, it was hurt.
“Come now, no drama.” He smiled thinly, those beautiful lips still wrapping his words in a melodic Spanish accent.
It mellowed sometimes, but right now – it was as thick as ever.
To me, it was a sign that his visit was anything but casual.
I hadn’t seen him in 5 years and it wasn’t nearly long enough to completely heal all the pain he’d caused me. That we caused each other.
Now he was here? To my knowledge, his season wasn’t over yet. I didn’t trust it and I didn’t trust him.
Trusting him was what got me in trouble in the first place.
I opened my mouth to throw him out, but there was a knock on the door, and I suddenly remembered Matthew.
Shit.
“Hey, I can’t get my key, open the door,” Matt yelled out and I whipped my head to Luciano, whose facial expression had shifted from nonchalant to positively lethal.
This wasn’t going to go well.
3
Luciano
I picked the lock on Thea’s door easily, slipping into her living space like I owned it.
It was my right.
I was still her husband legally, no matter how hard she tried to ignore that fact.
I didn’t bother turning on any lights. I wanted the time to think about how I was going to approach her.
Aside from breaking into her home.
It may have been our home if she hadn’t given up on us, on me.
But it was too late for maybes.
We had a situation to deal with that was far more pressing.
She’d completely frozen me out. The only reason I was taking such drastic measures was because I didn’t think she’d respond to me contacting her using traditional ways.
I was using the involuntary break I had to deal with this, and I didn’t have time for any fucking around.
She carted grocery bags into her kitchen and sat them down, quickly getting rid of her shoes. That was Teodora, most comfortable barefoot and as natural as possible. It was a part of her charm. She wasn’t high maintenance or materialistic. She didn’t care for facades and pretenses.
Nobody compared to her.
A few years had only filled her out more, made her shape more womanly and lush than she’d been at eighteen.
She turned the light on and I spoke, “Still as oblivious as ever, mi reina.”
My queen.
It started as a joke because she was always bossy. We clashed and argued and I used the nickname only to anger her.
It came to mean more.
I stood, feeling the familiar pull that had always been present from the first minute I laid eyes on her. I wanted to be around her whenever I wasn’t playing futbol, at first. She was an addiction, our relationship a drug that pulled both of us under quickly.
I stood behind her, feeling her heat without any contact between us. She surrounded me.
“Luciano,” she whispered, and I closed my eyes.
You never forgot the feeling of your first love.
It was too easy to slide back into the emotions of our past, of our history, and to forget about the ugly parts.
I would never deny my love for Thea.
“I am glad you haven’t completely forgotten me, mi Teodora.”
Without thinking, I brought my hands up to touch her, but she moved away and turned to face me.
“You don’t forget assholes that took you for granted and thought that fucking the newest goal digger was a good past time.” She hissed, and the familiar smirk settled on my lips. This is what we did. We needled each other, never relenting until words came that couldn’t be forgiven.