Copyright © 2013 Melanie Dawn
Cover Design by Brett Fabrizio
Editing by Kathleen Lilley
Interior Design by Angela McLaurin, Fictional Formats
Images used under license from www.dreamstime.com
Permission for use of fictional character, Seth Jordan, and his fictional band, The Rifters, was obtained by Erika Ashby.
Permission for use of book title, It All Started With a Lima Bean, was obtained by Kimi Flores.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author or publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, or incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to the actual events, locales, and persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is no authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.
Warning: This book is intended for readers 17+ due to some explicit language and mature themes.
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
So Much It Hurts: PLAYLIST
To my family
You are everything I need and nothing I deserve.
Each thundering crash of the ocean waves in the distance administered a dose of therapy to my soul. With my towel draped across my lounge chair, I reclined by the water’s edge sipping a Piña Colada from a hurricane glass adorned by a tiny pink umbrella. My life had all but suffocated me the past few months, and I desperately needed a change of scenery.
Lisa’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “Come on, Kaitlyn. Let’s go inside and get ready to par-tay,” she called, overemphasizing her last word. Lisa’s head bobbed up and down in the water as she swam past me toward the pool ladder.
I suppressed a laugh. Only late twenty-somethings remember when it was cool to pronounce it ‘par-tay.’ There was no need to point out the fact that we were nearly too old to hit the clubs.
Two guys standing at the tiki bar turned to stare at Lisa as she stepped out of the water. She reminded me of a supermodel as she brushed her long brown hair away from her eyes. I met Lisa soon after she found out she was pregnant with her second son. I thought she was the most beautiful pregnant woman I had ever seen. However, Lisa’s sweet disposition far outweighed her attractiveness. Like a fair-complexioned cartoon princess, I could almost picture the birds singing to her while they helped her fold the laundry at home. Unaware of the caliber of her beauty, she never seemed to notice when other men were checking her out. She had been happily married to her high school sweetheart for almost seven years.
I watched the two beefcake rubbernecks at the tiki bar gawk at her over their mirrored aviator sunglasses and chuckled under my breath. “Okay, let’s go,” I replied, before gulping the rest of my drink.
The other girls were toweling off and grabbing their bags to head upstairs to the condo. I looked around my mini-paradise, content with my surroundings. The palm trees swayed against the warm breeze, while the seagulls flew overhead searching for their next meal. The stark white sand glistened for miles under the hot sun, while the swells of the ocean waves toppled against the shore. For the first time I felt a freedom that I hadn’t experienced in quite some time.
I left my single life of drinking and dancing behind the day I found out I was pregnant with Eli. Michael and I had no plans of marriage until we saw those two pink lines on that cold November morning. I had set my future of becoming a pediatric psychologist aside while I made arrangements to become a stay-at-home mom. My entire life seemed to have been on hold the last five years. I quickly learned that being a stay-at-home mom was not all picnics and play dates. I felt trapped under the interminable mountain of laundry, lost amid the infinite overflow of dirty dishes, and exhausted from the incessant whine of a tired and cranky child who only seemed to be comforted by the everlasting song of a purple dinosaur. I couldn’t remember the last time I had enjoyed a night out; I was actually looking forward to it.
I assumed Michael and Eli were just sitting down for dinner at Burger Land. Michael, the staunch and successful CPA at a thriving accounting firm, was much too busy to cook while I was away. He almost balked at the idea of my weekend escape:
“Kaitlyn, I just can’t afford for you to leave right now. I need to go into work the next few weekends to prepare for several upcoming meetings. Work is just more important than some silly girls’ retreat right now.”
“That’s the problem, Michael. Your work. Our lives revolve around your work. You always put your work before your family.”
“My work pays the bills. Last time I checked, laundry and dishes don’t pay the bills.”
“That’s just it, Michael. Laundry and dishes don’t pay the bills, nor do they create a fulfilling life! I’m worth more than just being a servant for this family! Do you know how depressing it is when your daily goal in life is to sweep up crackers off the floor and dig rocks out of pants pockets before throwing them in the washing machine? I feel like I’m in solitary confinement most of the time. Then, my husband comes home and carries his plate of supper into his office only to disappear for hours on end, coming to bed well after I’ve gone to sleep. That happens so often these days that sex is barely even in our vocabulary anymore. I’ve spent the last five years in this unfulfilling life, wiping asses and noses, sweeping crumbs off the floor, and passing a practically nonexistent husband occasionally in the hallway!” Five years of pent up frustration barreled its way out of me in harsh tones and salty tears.
“We all need a break sometimes, Kaitlyn. Don’t you dare think you are the only one sacrificing your needs and wants for this family. I make sacrifices, too!”
“Oh, really? You laugh it up with your coworkers at your lavish dinner meetings, eating filet mignon with lobster tail and drinking three hundred dollar bottles of wine while I sit at home eating chicken nuggets for the third time in a week. When Eli was a baby, you played your endless golf games and slept soundly in your luxurious hotel rooms, while I sat at home breastfeeding until my nipples were raw and cleaning up explosive diapers all night! I never realized those fringe benefits at work were considered sacrifices for you! Please forgive me if I was mistaken!” My seething comments oozed with sarcasm.
Michael glared at me under furrowed eyebrows. He wanted to say something more, but refrained. Instead, he just huffed and stomped to his office, slamming the door behind him.
I stared at his offi
ce door, half expecting him to open it back up and say whatever it was he seemed to want to say. But, it remained closed. I could already hear him pecking away at his keyboard on his computer.
What had happened to us over the past few years? It’s not that we hated each other. We were still cordial most of the time, but our marriage had become stagnant and downright boring. We worked great together as a team to run a household and raise a child, but most of the time I felt like we were just roommates passing each other in the bathroom, taking turns using the sink. Our conversations used to be interesting and compelling. Now, it seemed like the only thing we discussed was whose turn it was to put Eli to bed. His office was his sanctuary, and my nose stayed in a book. Slowly, I turned around and walked away from his closed office door, in search of my e-reader with its newly downloaded novel.
“If you really want to go, then go. I can rearrange some things at work,” he muttered later that night as I lay in bed scouring the beach resort pamphlet that had come in the mail that afternoon.
“You have no idea how much I need this.”
“Then go—enjoy your weekend. I’ll do what I can to make it work.”
With that retort, he grabbed the blanket, rolled over, and promptly fell asleep. On the flipside, I stayed awake for hours, losing myself in the virtual pages of my e-reader.
I felt slightly guilty that he would have to rearrange his schedule, but not guilty enough to stay home. I deserved the break. I needed the break before I completely lost my mind.
So there I was at the beach, taking advantage of my much needed getaway while Michael and Eli probably enjoyed a classic burger from Burger Land. Eli would be overjoyed with the idea of a junior meal for dinner. He had been begging for one of the new Space Deputy toys for a week. I looked forward to hearing Eli’s sweet little voice on the phone when I called him later that evening to tell him goodnight.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sweetie,” I cooed.
“Hey, Mommy! Guess what? I got the new Captain Neptune tonight!”
I laughed. “I figured Daddy would take you to Burger Land.”
“Yeah, and it’s so cool!”
“I bet,” I agreed, envisioning him holding it up for me to see.
“Wanna talk to Daddy?” He was obviously too busy with his new toy to spend another second talking to me.
“Sure, sweetie. Bye. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mommy!”
“Hey you! Are you having fun?” Michael asked as he brought the phone to his ear.
“So far I am! We’re going out tonight too! Karaoke, I think,” I said, a little too exuberantly.
“Sounds fun. I hope you girls have a great time.” He didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as I did.
“Thanks. Well, I guess I better go get ready for our big night out. I just wanted to call to say goodnight and check on Eli.”
“We’re fine,” Michael assured me.
“I’ll talk to you later, then.”
“Okay, goodnight. Talk to you later.” I heard the phone disconnect and I sat there, dumbfounded.
“Love you too,” I grumbled at the blank screen. It was a common occurrence when ending my conversations with Michael. In fact, I couldn’t even remember the last time he told me he loved me. Most of his sweet nothings and terms of endearment were reserved for Eli…and that bimbo from his office. What was her name? Dollface? Homewrecker? Oh yeah—Bridget. I remembered the first time I became familiar with ‘Bridget’:
“Hello, Weston and Associates. This is Mr. Thomas’s office. May I help you?” A perky voice answered my husband’s phone one day from his private office line.
“Who’s speaking?” I asked sharply.
“This is Bridget, Mr. Thomas’s new personal assistant. How may I help you?”
“Well, Bridget, this is Kaitlyn Thomas, Michael’s wife. May I speak with him, please?”
“Sure, Mrs. Thomas. Just a moment, please.”
I heard indistinct sounds and murmurings as the phone was being passed to Michael.
“Hey.” Michael sounded annoyed. “What’s up?”
“I…uh…” I couldn’t really remember what I needed. Bridget’s perkiness coming from my husband’s personal phone had completely messed with my mind.
“Thanks, hon’,” Michael’s muffled voice echoed through the phone as if he had a hand covering the speaker while he spoke to Bridget, “Oh yeah, while you’re out will you stop by Starbucks for me?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Thomas,” she cooed.
God, I hated her.
“Do you want your usual?”
He has a usual?
“Sure thing. Thanks, darlin’.”
Hon’? Darlin’? What the hell?! Heat coursed through my veins as I struggled to contain my rage.
“Sorry about that,” Michael’s voice rang clear as he dropped his hand from the phone speaker, indicating that he, once again, was speaking to me. “Did you need something, Kaitlyn?”
Yeah, I need that tramp to get fired.
“Yeah, I just wanted to remind you that Eli’s tee ball game is tonight at six.”
Michael sighed. “Sorry, I have to work late tonight.”
“Of course you do.”
“What was that for?”
I mocked him in the same pouty voice Bridget used to get his attention. “Thanks hon’, and sure thing, darlin’.” Then anger hijacked my voice as I grumbled, “What the hell, Michael?”
“What? It’s totally innocent. Bridget knows that. I just say junk like that so she’ll bring me my coffee. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Right. I guess that’s why when I fix your coffee for you every morning you barely take time to thank me, much less call me darlin’.”
Michael huffed. “I don’t have time to argue, Kaitlyn. I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I won’t say it again. Bridget knows I’m teasing her. It’s nothing. I swear.”
“Okay, Michael. Whatever. I guess we’ll see you after the game.”
“Fine. See you later.”
Michael disconnected, and I gripped the phone angrily as if taking my frustration out on the electronic device would somehow rectify the situation.
“Love you too,” I muttered sarcastically, as the words ‘hon’ and ‘darlin’ bounced around in my mind like tiny wooden balls tumbling in a bingo cage.
“Who’s ready for a night on the town?” Shannon called from the bathroom as she stood in front of the mirror adding the final touches of her makeup. Shannon had been a stay-at-home mom for the last ten years. The epitome of a homemaker, she always left me envious of her organizational skills and her level head. Shannon always seemed to have it all together.
“I know I am!” Tori yelled from the kitchen as she poured some vodka into her glass of orange juice. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve been out with the girls!” Without a doubt, Tori was the most physically fit mom of our group. Almost nothing prevented her from keeping her strict workout schedule at the local YMCA. She had muscle definition in places I couldn’t even imagine having muscles at all.
“I’m ready, too!” Lisa’s five inch stiletto heels tapped across the tile floor as she walked into the kitchen to grab her purse off the counter.
Together, we were excited to have a few nights of fun without catering to the needs of our families.
The bar was packed with loud and obnoxious drunks. We chose to sit at a table in the back corner of the bar so we could actually hear our conversation over the roar of the crowd and the thumping music from the speakers. The walls and ceilings of the bar were lined with dollar bills that had been haphazardly stapled by satisfied patrons like offerings to a shrine or something. Some of the dollar bills had signatures on them while others had messages and inspirational quotes. Above our heads, about a foot from the ceiling, a small shelf ran the length of the walls. Empty beer and liquor bottles lined the shelves. The wooden floors creaked as people walked by our table on their way to high five the giant claw of th
e crab statue near the entrance. Our waiter told us that the tradition of fist bumping and high fiving Creighton the Crab started shortly after the bar had opened nearly forty years ago.
I sat with my back to the stage. My friends and I were laughing hysterically at the fools we had made of ourselves during our poor rendition of Aretha Franklin’s song, Respect. Downing a few drinks prior to our performance gave me enough liquid courage to embarrass myself on stage. I had immersed myself so deeply in the conversation that I barely noticed karaoke had ended and a band had started setting up on stage.
In the background, a voice emerged from the microphone. “Testing…one, two, three. Testing…”
The hair on the back of my neck stood upright. My body seemed to recognize the smooth and soothing voice, but my mind could not recall it. I quickly spun around in my seat and peered at the figure on stage. However, we sat too far away, and the terrible lighting in the bar restricted my view.
“What’s the matter, Kaitlyn?” Shannon sounded concerned. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“That voice…it sounds so familiar. I’ve heard it before,” I stammered.
“Seriously? The sign on the door said this band is debuting tonight. Besides, who do you know that lives at the beach?” Tori asked.
“No one, I guess.” But, there was something about the voice that I recognized. I felt sure I had heard it before. I knew it from somewhere, but where?
The mysterious voice began to sing. My thoughts drowned out the chatter around me. I dug deeper into my memory as I grasped for any recollection I could muster; nothing sprang to my mind. That soothing melodic voice crept up the back of my spine, tingling and sensuous, radiating through my chest. I just couldn’t conjure up the face connected to it. The timbre resonated familiarity, but the perplexity remained.
“Seriously, Kaitlyn, what’s gotten into you?” Tori looked at me wide-eyed. “You don’t look so good.”
I didn’t realize it until she said it, but my face felt flushed, and my palms felt sweaty. “I don’t know, guys. I just can’t explain it. I think I know the lead singer of this band. What was the band’s name again?”
So Much It Hurts Page 1
