Screw You, Lover: An Enemies To Lovers Romance

by Michaela Scott

  Riley and I used to send these back and forth all the time. It started out with our parents making us send each other birthday cards and thank you notes. But after a while, we just started doing it on our own. I bought every “Happy Groundhog Day” card in Southern California, and eventually, I’d start sending them to her at random times throughout the year. She did the same thing to me with Valentine’s Day cards, usually crossing out all the hearts and changing the words to say stuff like “UNHappy Valentine’s LIFE.”

  I sift through the box, pulling out as many cards as I can find, and lay them out on the bedroom floor in front of me.

  And shit, I should have looked at these sooner. If I had, I’d have instantly realized how insanely deep in denial Riley and I were.

  I pick up one and read it.

  Dear Jerkface,

  Just writing to remind you that I’m better than you at everything. You’ve been getting a little too cocky lately, so I think I’m going to keep sending you messages like this FOREVER.

  Hope you got a papercut trying to open this card,

  Riley

  Fuck, that makes me want to write her one back. I should probably stop reading these before I spend my entire flight to Miami making homemade Groundhog Day cards.

  I scoop the cards up off the floor and get ready to put them back in the box, but before I can, I realize I don’t recognize the card on top of the stack.

  It’s a little different from the others. It doesn’t have any markings on the front, and I can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a Groundhog Day card or a Valentine’s Day card.

  The front of the card is a picture of a groundhog peeking out of its burrow and seeing a heart-shaped shadow on the ground in front of it. It looks hand-drawn.

  Dropping the rest of the cards back into the box, I open it up to find the entire inside filled up with a handwritten note.

  And it’s not Riley’s handwriting.

  To the brash, infuriating, wonderful boy next door,

  If you opened this card, you were probably expecting to see a note from my daughter. I know you two have made quite a habit of mailing each other cards like these, one of the many ways you express your eternal, burning hatred for each other.

  And now that you’ve graduated, and the two of you are setting out into the great wild unknown of adulthood, and there are no more teachers or parents forcing you to spend time together, it would seem that this is the end of the story.

  But it’s not, is it?

  Because Riley left for New York two weeks ago, I’ve been working you double overtime all week long, and you still picked up and opened this card.

  Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you did it. Your secret is safe with me.

  But since you did, I’d like you to consider a piece of advice from one of your elders.

  You’re young, and you may feel like the story of your life is something that just happens to you, like you have no control over when and how things begin and end.

  But I’m here to tell you that you do have that power.

  For example, I’m unfortunately very sick. Sicker than most people know.

  But that won’t be the end of my story.

  My story will live on in the stories of my daughters, the memories of joy I’ve given the many people I’ve fed over the years, and in the guidance I’ve given to a certain promising young chef who looks like he’s ready to take on the whole world someday.

  So when you find yourself feeling like you’re part of a story that isn’t ready to end quite yet, grab a pen and write the happy ending that you want to see instead. You’ll know what it is when the time comes, I guarantee it.

  Oh, and one more thing.

  Before your parents were your parents, they were part of some of the most heated courtroom battles the city had ever seen. Most of our mutual friends were shocked when they ended up falling in love, but I wasn’t. They smiled too much when they argued. Sound familiar?

  Love,

  The mother of that awful girl next door

  When I get to the end of the card, I close it, lay it on top of the others, and slide the box it was in back under the bed. Then, holding my passport in one hand, I head back downstairs into the kitchen, where my mom is still at the table, going over her casework.

  “Hey Mom?” I ask.

  She looks up at me.

  “Do you have a pen I can borrow?”

  Chapter 26: Riley

  Well, here we are again, on my old friend, the New York City subway.

  I’d say I’ve missed it, but that wouldn’t exactly be the truth.

  Huddled in my raincoat in the damp, half-empty subway car, I blow a strand of wet hair out of my face and look up at the city map across from me.

  Only three stops to go until we reach Times Square, where the investor told me to meet him in one of the huge office buildings nearby. When I called, he said he’d been following the grand opening on social media, and he asked me if I was interested selling Riley’s Pizza Kitchen to him for a competitive price.

  I told him I wasn’t. But if Liam leaves, and takes Sam and Matt with him, then I’m going to need help from somewhere.

  So I guess I’ll see what he has to say.

  I don’t know, maybe it was crazy to come all the way back out here because I’m mad at Liam.

  But I couldn’t just stay there and watch him leave.

  So here I am, back in New York in the pouring rain, feeling like everything that happened since I picked up that phone call from Sam in my old apartment was some kind of crazy dream.

  But it wasn’t.

  Ugh, okay, I need to get ready to get off this train. Closing my eyes, I start steeling myself to head back up into the downpour happening right now on the city streets, trying to push away the memories of Liam that come flooding in.

  While my eyes are closed, the train comes to a slow stop, the doors open, and I hear the passengers around me shuffling out into the subway, replaced by new passengers. Then, as the squeaky metal doors creak closed, something thin and light drops into my lap, breaking my train of thought.

  My eyes slowly open back up, and I look down to see what it is.

  And I don’t think I’ve ever been more surprised, or happier, to see a Groundhog Day card.

  “Before you take that meeting, I thought you could use a little encouragement,” Liam says, standing over me, the little smirk that used to make me so angry on his face.

  “How did you…” I whisper, wondering if I fell asleep on the subway and I’m dreaming this.

  “Oh, you know,” he says, “A bunch of detective work, plus some help from a certain sister of yours.”

  “That little traitor,” I growl as the train comes to a stop again and the doors slide open. Only two stops left until I get off this train. Or wait, is it one stop? I think I lost count, and Liam’s body is blocking the map.

  “You should definitely read that card,” Liam says, a look on his face that’s half teasing and half…something else.

  “Why?” I ask, glaring at him, “Is it a stupid gloating note about how you’re moving my Dad to Miami, too?”

  “That’s exactly what it is,” he says, a twinkle in his chocolate-colored eyes.

  “Ugh, fine,” I say, opening up the card, which, judging from the poorly drawn groundhog on the front, was clearly handmade by Liam.

  Dear Groundhog

  Okay, okay, fine, Dear Riley,

  You seriously thought I was going to just get on a plane for Miami and we’d never see each other again?

  You wish.

  You’re stuck with me forever.

  Love,

  Liam

  I look up from the card, tearing up as I see something new…but somehow familiar…in Liam’s face.

  “Remember that question from a couple days ago, on the beach? The question that I’ve been asking myself ever since I met you? Well, here’s the answer, ten years and three thousand miles later. I love you, Riley.”

  And before I can r
espond, Liam’s lips are instantly on mine, saying a thousand things I never knew how badly I wanted to hear with just one kiss.

  All that confusion over why I’m kissing the enemy?

  All those justifications for the way his touch makes me feel?

  All those promises never to do anything like this again?

  They’re all gone.

  For the first time in my life, I know exactly why I’m kissing Liam.

  I’m kissing him because I love him.

  And I always have.

  Suddenly, after what feels like an eternity, I pull away from Liam and watch as the train pulls away from the station.

  “I just missed my stop,” I say.

  Looking over his shoulder with the tiniest hint of a grin, Liam sits down next to me with an arm around my side.

  “Well,” he says, “I guess we’ll just have to see where this train goes.”

  “Yeah,” I say, looking up at him and sticking my tongue out in his direction, “I guess we will.”

  Liam raises his eyebrows. “Did you just stick your tongue out at me?”

  Keeping my tongue out, I nod, then squeak as Liam pushes it back into my mouth with another powerful kiss.

  “You’d better get used to that,” I say, when we finally break off the kiss.

  “So should you,” Liam says, his eyes deep and bright in the darkness of the subway tunnel. Then, he looks at the window across from us, watching the tunnel walls go by. “Where are we going, anyway?”

  Putting my head on Liam’s shoulder, I look out the window with him. “I have absolutely no idea. I guess we’ll find out.”

  I mean, hey, after I became a restaurant owner out of nowhere and fell in love with someone I thought I hated, who am I to say where this train is going?

  But I do know one thing: no matter where things go from here, I can’t wait to see what happens next—as long as I’ve got my worst enemy right here next to me.

  Chapter 27: Riley

  Two Years Later

  “Ow!”

  I bring my hand up to the spot on my stomach where one of the little rascals inside me just kicked.

  Yeah, you heard that right. Liam, in his most hilarious prank yet, gave me two babies instead of one. Twin boys. And judging by the way they’ve started to kick…they’re definitely growing into two little Liams.

  Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I see my least favorite husband suppress a smile as he takes a sheet of peanut butter clusters out of the oven.

  “Go ahead and laugh,” I say, “We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re changing two diapers every day.”

  Setting the cooking sheet down on the counter, Liam steps up and takes me into his arms. “Oh, trust me, with the way people piled into Crave this weekend, I’m not going to be the one changing them.”

  “That’s right,” I say, looking up at Liam with fire in my eyes, “Keep getting comfortable. It’ll only make your diaper destiny that much more satisfying.”

  See, Liam and I made a bet at the beginning of this month that whoever’s restaurant makes less money has to do the first six months of diaper duty. Naturally, we’re both on track to have our most profitable months of all time.

  Which, considering that both Crave and Riley’s Pizza Kitchen have done well enough for us to open second locations on the East Coast, is saying something. It turns out that having a trash-talking spouse who also owns a restaurant is a pretty effective way to become a better cook, which is probably why both of our restaurants have gone from local favorites to culinary tourist destinations.

  We’ll see if the peanut butter clusters are better, too. Sam’s throwing a party to celebrate the release of her third book, and she wanted to do it here, in the house where she first started talking to Matt. I can hear guests starting to pile into the living room, and once more people get here, we’ll bring out the pizza, the peanut butter clusters, and the champagne.

  But for now, it’s just Liam and I alone in the kitchen, like old times.

  Only this time, I guess we do have some company.

  Not to be outdone by his brother, the other little one inside me kicks, and Liam’s eyes light up as he feels it against his body.

  “I swear they’re competing with each other,” I say.

  “Sounds about right,” Liam says, “But hey, if they’re anything like their parents, they’ll probably love each other in the end.”

  “I’m stealing that line,” Sam says, as she comes into the kitchen and pops a peanut butter cluster into her mouth.

  “Liam,” she says, her eyes twinkling with mischief, “I think Matt’s looking for you; he wants help pouring the champagne.”

  Liam nods, “Oh, yeah, we have a bunch of glasses out there, don’t we? Alright, I better go help. Matt’s been working hard this week at Crave.”

  And with that, Liam gives me a quick, teasing kiss on the lips and heads into the living room.

  Sam shakes her head as she watches him go. “Liam and Riley, enemies for life.”

  The oven beeps, and I slip on some mitts and take out the pizza that was cooking on the rack below the peanut butter clusters. “I know, I know, you saw it before anyone else and I denied it for years, and I should have listened to my awesome romance novelist sister.”

  “Right,” Sam says, biting the tip off a strip of chocolate-covered bacon from the batch Matt cooked up a couple minutes ago.

  “And speaking of romance novels,” I say, “Are you finally going to tell me what the new one’s about? I know you kept saying it wasn’t finished, but I really want to read it!”

  Sam scrunches up her nose and tries to suppress a smile as she looks down at my stomach. “Well, it’s definitely finished now, so I guess I can let the cat out of the bag.”

  “Great,” I say, grabbing my own strip of chocolate-covered bacon thanks to a sudden pregnancy craving and taking a bite, “Do you have a copy here? I want to start reading it tonight!”

  Sam’s eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Well…I do have a couple copies here, but technically…you’ve already read the book.”

  “What?” I ask, stopping in the middle of a bite of chocolate-covered bacon, “What do you mean?”

  Sam leans in towards me and lowers her voice. “Remember how you said I saw what was going on with you and Liam before anyone else?”

  My eyes shoot open as I realize what Sam is trying to say. “Fuck You, Loverboy was your book!?”

  Breaking out into laughter, Sam nods. “Guilty as charged. That was an early draft, though; I made some revisions to the plot based on how the real enemies turned into lovers. Oh, and they made me change the title to something a little more PG so they could sell it in stores.”

  “Wait,” I say, looking over towards the living room, which is slowly filling with people, “So the book that everyone’s here to celebrate is about me and Liam?”

  “You two were so inspirational,” Sam says, finishing off her strip of bacon, “But it wasn’t just that.”

  She looks out through the kitchen window, at the darkened guesthouse on the other side of the lawn. “Sometimes I feel like the luckiest person in the world. Ever since Matt and I got together, my life has taken me places I never could have imagined. It’s like I grew into the person I was always meant to be. And it all started out there, when you gave him that little nudge that sent him into the guesthouse. So…this book was my way of giving you a little nudge like the one you gave me…and it was also my way of saying thanks.”

  “Thank you,” I say, wrapping Sam up in a tight, sisterly hug, “I love you, Sis.”

  “I love you, too,” Sam says, before her eyes go wide as one of the twins kicks against her. “Wow, those two are going to be handfuls.”

  Matt steps in, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a copy of Sam’s book in another. “Alright, so, I think the party’s getting ready to start. Want to come out and make everyone go crazy?”

  Sam nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

  She cross
es the kitchen, then slips her arm around Matt’s waist as she gets ready to make her grand entrance.

  “Thanks again, Riley,” she says, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  And then, setting his book down on the counter, Matt leads Sam into the living room, setting off a roar of applause and cheering that shakes the kitchen floor. It sounds like fun out there, and it’s definitely going to be a great night.

  But before I join the group, I walk over to the other side of the counter, pick up Sam’s book, and open it up to the very last page, reading it all the way to the end.

  This is our story, alright.

  Happily ever after and all.

  ***

  The noise of the party is dying down, the last couple of guests are catching their cabs home, and a cool wind is blowing out on the front porch, where Liam and I are sitting together on the swing, watching the late night fall on the neighborhood where we grew up.

  “You know what Sam said to me in the kitchen?” I ask, watching the stars light up the sky above us.

  Liam smirks. “That her new book is clearly based on us?”

  I laugh. “Well, yeah, that, but she also said she feels like the luckiest person in the world, and that she grew into the person she was always supposed to be.”

  I look past Liam at my old house, with its dark windows and its long, winding driveway. “I kind of feel like that, too.”

  “Like the luckiest person in the world?” Liam asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, “Because I told myself hundreds and hundreds of times that I was never going to see you again…and here we are. Back where it all began.”

  Liam nods, then goes quiet for a few seconds, listening to the crickets. “Our story was never going to end any other way.”

  Lifting my chin up towards him until I’m looking right into his blazing brown eyes, Liam takes me in for a few more seconds. “When you left for New York the second time, I found a note from your mom, and that’s what it said. That our story is only going to end when we write the ending.”