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Copyright © 2016 by Melissa Bender
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This book is a work of FICTION. It is fiction and not to be confused with reality. Neither the author nor the publisher or its associates assume any responsibility for any loss, injury, death or legal consequences resulting from acting on the contents in this book.The author’s opinions are not to be construed as the opinions of the publisher.The material in this book is for entertainment purposes ONLY. Enjoy.
Praise for Forgotten Sweethearts
Hook, line and sinker an absolutely amazing book
Mashudu Mbulaheni, Goodreads
I was hooked on this book from the start. While we all want our HEA, this books explores what happens when you get your HEA and then some.
Felicia, Goodreads
This book is really addictive. One of my favourite kind. This one is Melissa' best story. JUST LOVE IT LIKE CRAZY.
Alia, Amazon
Forgotten Sweethearts
By: Melissa Bender
ISBN: 978-1-68030-763-4
©MelissaBender2016
Table of contents
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Bailey, Mason and Everly.
This for is you, to show you that dreams can come true.
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PROLOGUE
High school sweethearts as most would call us; I fell fiercely and violently when we first met at fifteen. He was leaning against the lockers in the school corridor when I laid eyes on him for the very first time. My heart raced at the sight of him, pounding against the inside of my chest so hard that I thought it would nearly explode. I walked past, blushing as my gaze dropped the second our eyes locked. Luckily, for me, he felt the same way too.
I looked at him with love and complete devotion and always craving his deep blue eyes on me. Often, I’d look up to see him staring right back, gazing ever so lovingly towards me and sneaking hidden glances during classes. Even when we finished school and moved in together, he would always watch. At night, Brody would always hold me as if I were about to disappear, never wanting to let go.
Fast forward eleven years and two children later, the only thing exploding of late was my anger towards him. The fire of passion between us was no longer explosive. Lovemaking was a rare, occasional occurrence, and I had no clue what foreplay was involved of anymore. Was it spitting on my own fingers or giving him a quick grab? I didn’t know. I just knew it wasn’t what it should have been.
Every touch, lingering kiss and glance towards each other were just for show. Behind the large wooden door of our home, we were anything but happy. Living a lie, it was what we’d become accustomed to. This was our life.
To everyone else, we appeared the perfect couple. Deep down, I knew the divorce was near.
We spent most nights apart, sleeping in separate bedrooms. I hated it. I hated that we’d grown to loathe each other. The undeniable attraction was still here, just fizzled out. Neither of us was willing to try to keep the spark alive or to keep what we once had. Both of us had given up.
His personal life was suffering because work always came first. Brody worked hard all the time. I won’t deny that. He had thrown himself into becoming the best he could, climbing the ladder to the top. I said nothing when I really should have spoken up the second I began feeling left out. My thoughts were kept hidden away and left unsaid.
His family never noticed, too busy engrossed with their own lives to notice just how bad things had become. Brody’s mother loved her weekly family dinners and the yearly vacations. We would always manage to avoid those. Using work as the perfect excuse when in all honestly, we just couldn’t stand to be in the same room with one another for two weeks, which was a sad but true harsh reality.
I was unable to complain too much as Brody had given me a wonderful life, a beautiful six-bedroom home, much bigger than we needed, but it was ours. Brody earned enough to keep the bills paid and then some. After Noah was born, I stayed home full time, taking the new job title as a housewife.
It was hard at first as I had always loved my job, enjoying the daily interactions with other adults and feeling like I mattered. Now, I was used to being a stay-at-home mother, enjoying my children and living life through them.
Pathetic, I know. I just didn’t know how miserable that would make me in the end.
CHAPTER ONE
Quietly, my knuckles rapped against the wood before I reached down and turned the knob. Pushing the door open, I began to walk inside his office. My husband sat behind his large wooden desk, a soft glow against his face from the dimly lit lamp close by. His office filled with bookcases and family photographs. A couch pushed against one side of the wall and a TV in the corner for the nights he spent in here.
This was his usual spot when home, working and away from everyone.
He looked so handsome with those blue eyes I wanted to lose myself in and dark brown hair. For a moment, it was e
asy to forget that we were in a war against each other most days.
“The kids are asleep. I’m going to bed now,” I said, interrupting him with a heavy sigh as I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the white wall.
Brody didn’t bother looking up. “Good night.”
I lingered, wishing things were differently. How I wanted to go over there, walk across the timber flooring and pull his swivel chair around; to sit on his lap with my arms draped over his shoulders and kiss or just talk about our day; and, to be close to him once again.
Paperwork scattered all around, his eyes were narrowed as he concentrated hard on whatever was on the screen. His fingers typing furiously on the Mac keyboard stopped. His head stayed bowed as his dark eyes glanced upwards. “Yes?” His voice low yet still held authority over me.
I felt uncomfortable in here. Awkwardness filled the room as I stood by the door. “Did you need anything before I go?” I asked, swallowing the dry lump in my throat as he just stared.
“No.” Short and curt came his reply, and just like that, he was back typing away.
We rarely spoke about anything else other than the children or what our week entailed. As I went to close the door, I heard a disgruntled sigh. There was no need to say anything else. I left the room, making my way down the hallway to the children.
Lila was fast asleep, clutching her doll against her cheek as I pulled the light pink bed cover up over her shoulders to keep her warm during the winter’s night. Her dark brown hair curled and splayed out against her pillowcase as she mumbled something incoherent and rolled from her side to her back. I couldn’t help but just smile, wanting to sit in here forever and watch her.
At seven, she was determined but stubborn at the best of times with a huge imagination. Her daddy was wrapped around her fingers, his little princess. Noah, who was a year older, was the opposite. He was very laid back and easy to keep happy. He’d gotten that from his father. The children were both often mistaken as twins with their age so close. Noah wasn’t much of a talker, either reading a book or outside riding up and down the driveway on his bike. Lila loved to talk about anything and everything.
I kissed her good night and then made my way across the hallway to Noah’s room. The second book of Harry Potter on his face as he had fallen asleep reading again, I laughed softly to myself, placing the bookmark on the open page and leaving it on his bedside table.
I couldn’t deny it. Brody and I made beautiful children. Biased or not, they were my life.
Kissing his forehead as my fingers combed through his dark, almost black hair, I stood up straighter, leaving his bedroom and making my way back to ours. I paused momentarily and stared at his office door once more. I almost went in again. He was in there, shutting me out and blocking me away. Deciding against it, I left.
Slipping into the shower, I began to lather body wash into my olive skin and clean myself. I loathed the way my body looked after having children. Twenty-seven and I loathed my body. I could lie and say that I kept my figure or lost the weight, but I hadn’t. I had leftovers from Lila, probably some from Noah too. It was too easy to eat and enjoy the sugary sweet cravings from being pregnant, convincing myself that I’d work hard to wear it off once they were born. It just never happened.
My hair hadn’t been cut in years, just not bothering with it. It only went up in a ponytail, the way boring mum does. Even makeup went untouched, just a quick dab of blush and gloss. I really couldn’t be bothered with it. The clothes that I used to wear, all those shorts and tight-fitting jeans were hiding in the back of my closet, hidden away for the day that I was finally able to wear them again without the embarrassing belly fat bulging over the top.
Brody never once complained or said anything, but my subconscious told me that it bothered him. He’d only gotten better looking with age, successful at work and grown into a strong man. It made sense for him to have a beautiful woman on his arm. However, I was never on his arm. I hadn’t even been asked to join him at one of his work dinners since Noah was born. He would call up late, inform me last minute that he wouldn’t be making it home until late.
I was convinced he was fucking his receptionist, the woman who took his business calls. He denied it, of course. What man wouldn’t want to be sucked off by a gorgeous blonde when his wife wasn’t doing it to him?
The last time we were consistent with being intimate was when we were trying to fall pregnant with our youngest, Lila. I’d become increasingly aroused during my pregnancy with her, craving his touch, his kisses… to feel his hands on my skin. He never seemed to mind, always up for a quick romp between the sheets before work, before dinner or when our eldest Noah was napping.
When Lila entered the world, sex and sleep were a distant memory of the past.
You could say our marriage began taking its toll when Noah entered our world. Brody had only just made it to the hospital. Another five minutes and he would have missed the first of his son, Noah. It was the same with Lila, another business meeting that he couldn’t dash away from.
Sex was boring. Neither of us even really tried, and I had faked so many orgasms that I lost count.
As I stepped out of the shower, I quickly dried off in fear that Brody would already be in the room. I hated the thought of him seeing my body. Slipping into my flannel pyjamas, I sat down on the bed with my legs tucked up and put a braid in my half-dried hair. The bed felt cold and lonely as I slipped under the covers after brushing my teeth. It was too big, too empty.
We didn’t have a TV in our room. When we first moved in, Brody said we didn’t need one. The bedroom was for two things, sleeping and sexy time. Now, I wished there was a TV in here.
My eyes stared at the door, waiting, hoping he would come in and wanting to hold me. He didn’t, and I fell asleep.
I could vaguely hear him undressing in our walk-in closet. Barely awake, I rolled over, picked my phone up and noticed the time, almost 2 AM, hours after I had said good night to him.
Putting the phone back down, I snuggled further beneath the covers as he joined me in the bedroom. “You awake?” his voice soft, half-heard.
“No,” I replied.
I kept my eyes closed as I rolled to my back. This was his usual pickup line when he wanted some. They opened just as he walked around to his side of the bed, naked. Sitting down, I watched as he opened his side of the bedside table drawer and take out a condom. Tearing it open, he tossed the foil wrapped and began rolling down the condom down his thick length. I wasn’t offended. Neither of us wanted any more children.
Raising my hips, I lowered my bottoms but still kept one leg in, easy to put back on afterwards.
There was no kissing, barely any moans, and he was quiet after from some shallow breathing. He’d always been silent, and it made me feel like shit. We weren’t experienced with other people, only being with each other. I wasn’t counting the bitch at his work until my proof was solid.
My hands gripped his strong arms, legs wrapping around his thighs as his body moved against mine. Closing my eyes, I laid here wishing… wishing for what wasn’t. I couldn’t have faked it anymore if I tried. This wasn’t lovemaking. It was a job. As husband and wife, that’s what we were meant to do — have sex.
Brody’s hips began to move more forcefully, hurrying himself up. His breathing picked up slightly, and just when the actual pleasure began to sink into the pit of my stomach, he climaxed. I was too embarrassed to speak up, to tell him what I needed and wanted. It was okay, though. We’d have sex again in a month or so… whenever the urge came on.
His heart was racing, beating faster as his breathing slowed down. My arms draped around his neck, wanting to keep this closeness for just a moment longer before he pulled out and walked back to the bathroom. Knowing that the second he moved, it would be gone. At least this way, we could pretend. Well, I could.
He didn’t pull away, letting me relish in this small connection for a moment more than he possibly wanted. He was doing this for
my sake. I felt his fingertips tracing against the nape of my neck. My eyes opened to darkness. I inhaled his scent, a strong musk of the aftershave I’d bought him for Christmas. I tasted the sweat on his skin as I pressed my lips to his shoulder, kissing him softly.
I began to feel a mere comfort. That feeling went as soon as it came when he began to move off of my body.
I already rolled over and pretending to be asleep when he made his return from the bathroom. He was spending the night in here, always in here after we’d slept together. Otherwise, he’d be in the spare, and I would end up with Noah or Lila, whoever wanted to snuggle with their mama that night.
I didn’t stop them from coming in. I liked that they still needed the comfort of me.
My parents had been furious that we weren’t raising them with Italian traditions. Hell, they were still furious that I hadn’t married an Italian boy. What did they expect, though? They had come home from a holiday and announced we were moving to an island called Tasmania. I had not ever heard of the place before. My papa quit his job, found work over here, and the next thing I knew, we were moving, and I was enrolled at the school. It was rushed. I barely spoke any English and was the only Italian in my school. How could they not think I would fall in love with an Australian boy? I was fifteen for crying out loud. My hormones were raging all over the place for him once I laid eyes on his cute face.
I knew it broke her heart when we had children even naming them Noah and Lila. My mama never mentioned it, but I knew she was disappointed with our choice of names for them. We didn’t care. We loved them.
Waking early the next morning, I started my morning routine of getting ready, hair up, face washed and the usual baggy clothes on which involved a loose-fitting shirt paired with a pair of black mum jeans that sucked in my gut. Black was my choice of colour. It was more slimming.
Forgotten Sweethearts: A Romance Novel Page 1
