For the Love of Us

by Kaylee Rose

  For the Love of Us

  Kaylee Rose

  Red’s Bookshelf Publishing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2019 by Kaylee Rose.

  All rights reserved. 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. For permission requests, write to the Author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Reds Bookshelf Publishing

  446 Old County Road

  #100/384

  Pacifica, Ca 94044

  For the Love of Us by Kaylee Rose

  authorkayleerose@gmail.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  FTLOF / Kaylee Rose – 1st Edition.

  This book is dedicated to my husband.

  Through the ups and many downs, you always take care of me.

  Because of you, I believe in happily ever after.

  I love you.

  Chapter One

  What happens when the kids leave for college and you remember you are a woman again—not just a mom?

  The excitement of watching my sons start a new chapter in their lives with college and careers had me buzzing with excitement.

  Luckily, my boys are good kids, and have never stepped too far over the guidelines we set for them. They are far from perfect and pushed the limits while living under our roof. It gave them a safe place to recover and learn from their mistakes. Their discovery of both positive and negative consequences is an important lesson while growing up. It was all a part of developing those mechanisms, of how to cope and adjust to the new world they faced when leaving the safety of their childhood home.

  The reality remains; I’m still their mom, but they don’t need me to be a part of their day to day life.

  I miss my boys every day. Nature tells me this is the way life is meant to go. You raise them; you release them; they move forward; you wait for them to call when they need you. The piece left out of this cycle, which I never considered, hit me hard like a sucker punch to my gut. What would become of my husband and I after they left? The realization kind of snuck up on me.

  As the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months I started to find myself again. That part of me which had been buried between diapers, snotty noses, room mom, and being their unpaid Uber driver. I felt myself spring to life. But lurking in the background of change, a part of me remained hidden. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on, but it burned deep inside.

  Simply going through life with my husband, on autopilot, day to day, weighed heavily on me. Finally, it hit me.

  Making love–the one thing which cemented the relationship between husband and wife became a chore. Our children’s needs had overtaken our own and the desire, passion and lust we once felt for one another now a distant memory.

  This lackluster change became more apparent after the kids moved out. The need to feel desired and wanted by my husband gnawed away at me. I knew we needed to make a change, but how do you start again when the person sleeping next to you feels like a stranger?

  A coffee date with my best friend brought about an idea I hoped would make a difference. A plan designed to bring my husband to his knees with lust and desire. I’ve never been a quitter. The athlete and competitor, still lurking deep inside me, was determined to make him see the woman he had married twenty-two years before. I had a plan. Yes, it was a gamble, but one worth taking, and even though I was afraid of the unknown, I still needed to take this drastic step.

  Fighting to keep our love alive was a risk, but, for us, I was prepared to do anything.

  Chapter Two

  It’s Thursday. The one day set aside each week for what I call coffee therapy. It’s the only time I feel like me.

  I’ve been married for over twenty years to the most amazing man. He gave me two wonderful boys, but somewhere along the way, I stopped being Callie and morphed into just a wife and mom.

  I had no regrets once I decided to leave my career behind and become a stay at home mom. Although the stay at home part is a stretch. I was never home, choosing to make the most of every minute I could with the boys.

  Life moves on and the days of being classroom helper, field trip driver, cheerleader, along with all the other roles are now behind me. Now it’s my time, or should I say, our time. Being wife and mom will always be a part of me, but finding out who I am now, and how I can reclaim my marriage, is at the forefront of my mind.

  It’s been so long since Brad or I have referred to each other by anything but our pet names. Usually it’s babe, sweetheart, or honey.

  The one nickname that makes me smile is when he affectionately refers to me as Beavis. Yes, I’m Beavis to his Butthead. Long story short, the popular TV show was all the rage when we first began dating. Over a night of pizza and beer, when he took the last bottle. I called him a butthead. He gave this signature laugh announcing, 'Then you're Beavis'. Over the years these silly names have stuck.

  This type of joking and playfulness is part of what makes us best friends as well as husband and wife. It’s a special connection not all married couples have. It makes us, us. I don’t want this side of our relationship to die, and it won’t, but there are other parts I want back; the sensual side that has been missing for too long.

  I haven’t shared my feelings with Brad. His job is stressful, and I don’t want to add to it.

  Instead I vent while having coffee with Tina–my best friend and confidant. She lets me whine about life, kids, the husband, you name it, and all without judgement.

  When I finish my weekly update, she shares her adventures with me.

  Tina’s stories are the epitome of loving and living life—a shining reminder of the life I once had, as opposed to my now less colorful, less sparkling world of boring routine.

  She’s finally here. I rush over to pull Tina into an extra tight hug.

  “It’s about time...”

  “Sorry I’m a few minutes late, we—well you know, Alex couldn’t let me leave without a little something for the road.” Tina winks.

  “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play innocent with me. You had amazing sex this morning, and I’m hoping for just a tiny bit of what you’ve got going on under those covers.” My exaggerated pouty lip is ignored by the person who knows me so well.

  “We need to figure out how to get you back on track.”

  The buzzing around the coffee shop disappears. She’s right and if I could wave a magic wand, I would change this part of my life with a simple swish. Only the world isn’t a Disney movie with a guaranteed
happily ever after.

  “You’re right but how am I gonna do that?”

  Our decades-long friendship is precious to me. If anyone can help me figure this out it’s her.

  Tina is an amazing person who always sees the good in people. Her aura glows, making everyone around her cheerful. It’s like the sun shines directly on her. She shares it with those people fortunate enough to come into her world. Sappy, I know, but I love her with all my heart.

  Arm in arm, we make our way to the table.

  “Alex needs to remember Thursday mornings are for us. Not hot monkey sex.”

  “Quit your complaining. You knew I was coming.”

  “Fine, but hurry up, it’s been a really bad week. I need to get it all out now before my head pops.” Our kidding from earlier has disappeared.

  “Breathe. Why didn’t you call me if things are this bad?”

  “Because I refuse to let my bad mood affect your week. It’s bad enough I spew my negativity all over you on Thursdays.”

  Tina leans over and peers into my empty coffee cup. She picks it up then walks to the counter without saying a word. She knows me too well. Without having to ask, she adds the right amount of cream and sugar to my coffee. Hands full, she walks back with two steaming cups, placing them on the table.

  My fingers grip the mug firmly. Today’s discussion will be more serious than last week, and if I’m honest, the last few months. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m about ready to give up on expecting more in the bedroom.

  Her look of concern is undeniable. Pinched eyebrows, cocked head and sad eyes stare back at me.

  Inhaling deeply, I exaggerate the release of air. It’s time to spill my guts. Without words, we place our hands on the table. Years ago, Tina read something about how holding hands helped with the transfer of stress and frustration to the other person. Allowing it to become diluted between the two bodies instead of filling one. I don’t know if it works or not, but it calms me, so I go with it.

  “Alright. Let’s hear it. Why are you having such a bad week?”

  “I’m just tired of the same thing every night. Brad comes in, kisses my cheek, says hey babe, it’s good to be home. Then he grabs his laptop, boots it up, and heads into the bedroom to put on those ugly sweats he loves to wear. Then, it’s dinner without any real conversation. I wash the dishes, and he dries. After everything is put away, we sit together on the couch. He starts snoring before the show is half over. I feel disconnected.”

  “OMG! How can he still wear those nasty things? I thought you threw ‘em out months ago?”

  She knows all about Brad’s obsession with the sweatpants and even plotted with me about how to destroy them. But like in Stephen King’s Pet Cemetery, each time I toss them out, they return laced with more evil.

  “I did! He dug them out of the trash, then bitched at me for a week. Saying how he doesn’t ever want to part with them. He knows I hate them. They have stains from when he painted the boys’ playroom fifteen years ago, and a huge rip in the butt. I’m surprised they don’t disintegrate in the wash.”

  “He’s delusional. Have you thought about taking him in to have his head checked?”

  I shake my head and chuckle with her. Obviously, this isn’t the first time she’s listened to this particular complaint.

  “It doesn’t make sense. I can’t get him in the mood lately, and those sweats turn me off as soon as I see them.”

  My shoulders sag while I palm my face. “Fuck my life.”

  “Have you talked to Brad and told him what you want?”

  “No, I’m embarrassed that he doesn’t look at me the same way he used to.” It’s hard to look her in the eye with this admission.

  A part of me is jealous of what Tina has with Alex. The tales she’s shared about her bedroom antics leave me breathless and blushing. I think hearing her fantasies come true makes me remember what Brad and I used to have, and what I want to find again.

  Years ago, Tina and I started writing a list of all the secret fantasies we have. Our journals include things like sex in public, watching another couple have sex, dressing up in his police uniform, and other kinky sexy scenes. Her list is more adventurous than mine.

  I shared one recurring sex club fantasy with Brad many years ago. We drove to a club he found a few towns away, but I chickened out before he could even park. I don’t think Brad could have gone through with it either, but I didn’t give him the chance.

  Not Tina though. She took the address from me and checked sex club off her list three days later. I still blush thinking about the stories she’s shared over the years. She tells me there’s a dirty girl who hides inside every woman, just begging to be let loose. Mine must be a ninja because I’ve never seen her.

  It’s time for both of us to revisit our journals. Tina’s is close to completion and my fantasies have changed.

  “I want him to come home, grab me, and fuck me right there in the entry way, like he’s thought about it all day. I want him crazed and full of lust; wild with desire and the need to make me scream.”

  “Maybe you’re expecting too much. Has he ever done that?”

  She’s playing devil’s advocate, but her comment forces me to think back. It’s been a long, long time. “Actually yes. It was only a few times when we first bought the house. Enough to make me want more. I know he’s tired. These college loans are killing us. You know how much overtime Brad works to cover those bills?” I push myself away from the table. “Hang on a sec. I have to pee.”

  Finishing my business, I wash my hands in front of a large mirror.

  Ugh, look at me. I squint, inspecting the middle-aged woman staring back at me.

  Fuck! I’m bitching about Brad’s ugly sweats and lack of spontaneity but I’m a disaster zone too.

  I didn’t brush my hair or shower this morning. Why would I? The most exciting part of my day is when I have coffee with friends.

  Today I threw my hair up in a messy bun, pulled on baggy sweats, comfy running shoes, and oversized T-shirt. It’s pretty much my daily uniform for grocery shopping and cleaning the empty house.

  I’ve fallen into the comfortable space where I don’t make any extra effort.

  I’ve never had an epiphany like this before. The light bulb blinks on above my head screaming, Hey, dumbass. Fix yourself first.

  It needs to start with me.

  I need to get Brad to notice me.

  I need to make the first move and seduce him.

  A plan starts to formulate. I dash back to Tina with my heart pounding in my chest, my thoughts shifting into overdrive.

  I drop my ass onto the chair, bumping my leg under the table, causing Tina to jump.

  “Owwww, shit that hurts.” I’m certain my skin will be bruised by the end of the day.

  “What’s up with you? The bathroom couldn’t be that exciting!”

  Grinning like a Cheshire cat. Now I’m the one who’s holding the sun in the palms of my hands.

  “You’re so funny. I think I have a plan to get Brad and I out of this bedroom funk. But I need your help.”

  She side-eyes me and takes a sip of her mocha.

  “What are you doing today?”

  I’m a little breathless from how fast I’m speaking.

  “Slow down before you pass out and hurt yourself more. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” My bruised and throbbing knee isn’t important.

  With a raised eyebrow, she questions me. “Really?”

  “It’s good, nothing can stop me today. I haven’t been this excited since… I can’t remember when. So, are you going to help me or what??”

  The sun brightens around her, she’s hooked. She wants this as much as I do. “Fine. Now tell me what’s in that devious mind of yours?”

  Leaning in close I whisper the details of my plan. Phase one starts today; get Brad to notice me!

  Chapter Three

  The drive home after strategizing with Tina can’t happen fast enough. We each have
our to do list with a tight timeline.

  With the windows down, I sing along to the radio, letting my thoughts wander to the what ifs of tomorrow when I see the flashing blue and red lights appear in my rearview mirror. Switching lanes, I slowly pull to the right and wait.

  Son of a bitch! This traffic stop will cost me more than just time. The fine for a speeding ticket will put a dent in the budget I’ve set for my mission. I’ve stashed away a bit of cash for a special occasion and if anything screams special, it’s tomorrow’s plans.

  My thumbs tap on the steering wheel while I wait for the inevitable scolding. Anxiety rises and my heart pounds. I grip the wheel tighter as I spot the officer exit his cruiser.

  It’s impossible not to notice how handsome this man is. He must be over six feet tall. Broad shoulders and a muscular build under his snug uniform reminds me of Brad’s rookie years.

  Officer Hottie, the name I quickly assign him, looks to be in his late twenties. I feel a little pervy checking out this younger man but what the hell. Looking isn’t against the law. Maybe this unexpected eye candy is worth the delay after all.

  “License and registration, Ma’am.” His deep harsh tone tells me I’m in big trouble.

  Officer Hottie peers over his aviators into my car. I cringe when I hand everything to him. My license picture is horrible.

  “Mrs. Thompson, do you know why I stopped you?”

  I know I need to be respectful and honest if I have any chance of being let off with a warning.

  “It’s an emergency. I know I was driving way too fast, but I have a really good reason.”