Perfect Little Plan

by Jennifer Miller

  “Enough. That’s enough, Rixton.” He looks at me in alarm and I automatically reach out a hand to his face, wanting to soothe him. “Let me talk now, okay?”

  He swallows hard. “Okay.”

  “You are right. I understand everything that you are saying about Emily and I respect that. Look, I’m not going to lie, this Joanna thing and the fact you have a daughter threw me for a huge loop. I never would have expected that in a million years. And I’m not about to lie and say that this will be great and we will all be one big happy family. I’m scared, Rixton. I have no freaking clue how to be a… a… what the hell would I even be to her?” I ask in a panic.

  Laughing softly he takes my hands, “You would be the woman her dad loves.”

  I squeeze his hands, “I don’t know if kids like me. I don’t know anything about an almost seven-year-old, but I’m willing to try. You see, before I thought you were in an accident, Olivia was over at my place and I had just told her that I was in love with you and was going to tell you. That your child, Emily, was a piece of the man I love, and that’s all that matters.” He leans toward me as if he wants to kiss me, delight and happiness lighting up his whiskey colored eyes. I laugh and shake my head. “Rixton, you are not at all what I expected. I’ve had a plan for my life as long as I can remember, I told you that. But, what I’ve come to learn is that the best things in life aren’t planned. How could they be? There is no way in a million years anyone could plan someone like you. You are so smart, sarcastic in a way that makes me crazy and hot at the same time. You make me laugh, and make me happy. But most of all, I am able to be myself with you. There is only one other person in this world that I feel that way with. My father and his expectations and my own stupid plan be damned. I’m in love with you too, Rixton. You’ve helped me realize that a plan and life can definitely take you unexpected places, but love… love will bring you home. And you’re my home. I want to make this work too.”

  He can’t wait any longer and neither can I. He puts his mouth to mine and the kiss is slow, soft and sweet. It makes my toes curl and I put my arms around his neck pulling him closer. When we pull apart and look at each other, I whisper, “I love you.”

  A smile that can only be called brilliant lights up his face. “I love you too. And I have a surprise for you. Come with me.”

  “A surprise?”

  He stands and holds out a hand to me, gently pulling me to my feet. He leads me down the hall to his room. “Um, listen here buddy, I’ve seen that surprise before.”

  We walk into his room and close the door and he breaks out into a laugh once he’s sure it won’t wake Emily. “Get your mind out of the gutter, darlin’. I wasn’t referring to that, although now that you mention it…”

  “No way. I want the other surprise,” I tease delight filling my heart.

  As he walks into his closet I take in his room. It’s a lot of black. A black headboard, black dresser, black easy chair and rug. His comforter is black but he’s accented it with red pillows and sheets. Another room that could use the softening touch of a woman. Someday, I promise myself with a smile.

  Rixton walks to the bed and places a box upon it. “Here you go. Open it.”

  I look at him with glee, and walk toward the bed. Lifting the lid, I pull the tissue paper away and break out into a laugh. “Boots?”

  “Not just any boots, darlin’. Those are all blinged out just for you. Only the best for my girl.”

  I take them out of the box and hold them up. They are extraordinary and so me. The brand is Frye and they are a light brown. The foot part of the boot is plain, but the part that goes up my leg is decorated with hundreds of tiny shiny studs. They are boots fit for a princess, for sure. “They are perfect. I love them, thank you.”

  “So I confess, I have a fantasy that involves those boots?”

  My smile grows wider and I take a step closer to him, “You do? Please tell.”

  “It involves you, and those boots…”

  “Uh huh.”

  “In nothing else.”

  “Well I think we should work on that fantasy right now.”

  His eyes light up making me laugh. “Yeah?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We waste no time doing just that. The boots fit perfectly and when Rixton sees me wearing them and nothing else, the lust in his eyes alone is enough to drive me crazy. We come together, fast and then slow. Anxious to stake our claim on one another and confirm our love, but wanting it to last at the same time. He touches me tenderly from head-to-toe, placing kisses all over my body. Just when I think I can’t take it any longer, he enters me and everything feels right with the world. We move together, creating a story all our very own. When we find release together, it’s with a big sigh, a feeling of contentment and a love so strong, it’s amazing it can be contained in my chest.

  My eyes open and Rixton’s arm is draped over my naked sheet-clad body. He’s got my back nestled against his front and I can feel his breath blowing on my temple. Feelings of confusion wash over me, when I’m not sure what it is that woke me up. I’m content, warm, and happy, but something is off. And then I hear it.

  “Dad?”

  Popping up like a shot out of a cannon, I hold the sheet to my chest. My eyes immediately find Emily standing in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and disheveled. Her blue cast is held close to her body and she frowns at me when she sees me next to her father, in bed. I want to die. “Rixton?”

  He’s already moving around, my actions having startled him too. He sits up, “What’s wrong?”

  I look at him, wide-eyed, “Emily’s at the door.” I briefly wonder if I should have used pig Latin to communicate to him. Wait, do kids already know pig Latin at her age? Maybe I need to learn a new language all together? Or maybe sign language? Oh wait, definitely not. Sign language would make me drop the sheet and that is so not going to happen.

  “Emily?” Rixton asks, “What’s wrong, honey?”

  “I’m thirsty. Can I have a glass of water, please?”

  “Of course, honey. Give me just a minute okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She closes the door and Rixton turns to me, “Oops, guess I didn’t lock the door. Live and learn I guess. At least it wasn’t a few hours earlier, huh?” His face falls when he sees I’m not laughing or smiling, “What’s wrong, darlin’?”

  “She saw me in your bed. Naked.”

  “She didn’t see you naked, and you know what, seeing you here with me is something she will have to get used to. We will talk to her tomorrow and explain exactly who you are to me, okay?”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  He looks at me in his bed, disheveled and worried, “I think it’s a great idea. Especially because I plan on having you just like this a lot more. It’s a damn fine sight, seeing you in my bed, Red. It’s going to happen a lot.”

  Blushing I momentarily lose myself in his flirting, then snap out of it. “Go get dressed and get your daughter something to drink, you cad.”

  “Cad? What is that? A western movie?”

  “It sometimes feels that way with you.”

  Laughing, he gets out of bed and I admire his nakedness as he throws some shorts on and leaves the room. I put my head in my hands and try to contain my embarrassment. A rustling at the door draws my attention and I lift my head up. Emily is standing there once again staring at me. I’m shocked when she says, “I’m not sure how I’m going to feel about this.”

  I open my mouth to respond but don’t know exactly what to say. She spins on her heel and heads back in the direction of her room. “You and me both, kid. You and me both.”

  Find out what happens next with Perfect Little Promise coming 2015.

  Will Pyper be able to ingratiate herself in the lives of Rixton and Emily seamlessly? How will Emily react when she sees Pyper doing things for her that her mother can no longer do, because of her illness? How will Joanna feel about Emily’s developing relationship with Pyper? Will Rixton an
d Pyper’s love for one another be enough to weather this new family dynamic, or will it all fall apart?

  THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! I appreciate each and every one of you and if I could hug and meet you all, please know that I would. I write because I love it, but you all help provide the motivation to keep me going when it gets hard at times. Thank you for that. Your facebook comments, tweets, words of encouragement and emails mean more to me than you can imagine.

  As always, it takes a team of people to help publish a book. Thank you to my mom, Cindy who is always there for me every step of the way. I’ve said it before and will say again, I’m so lucky to have someone who knows me as well as you do and is the best content editor I could ask for. Gypsy Rae Choszer, thank you for hashing this story out with me. This book about killed me and because of you, and our many talks, I realized it was because I was trying to write a story other than Pyper wanted me to write. I would honestly be lost without you – you are sooo stuck with me for life. Cora Brent, thank you for all of your support. I live for our weekly writing meetings with Gypsy and am so happy to have found a friend in you. Angela Corbett, there aren’t words for my love for you. Thank you for your consistent support and all of the advice you offer. I would be lost without you. Espe, you always ask me how things are going and push me to keep going. Your excitement, encouragement, and proofing as always, is appreciated. Thank you for still loving me even though I totally suck with commas. Robin Harper, with Wicked by Design, thank you for my gorgeous cover and working with me until it was just right. Kassi Cooper, thank you for being patient with me and making my book so pretty with your formatting.

  To all the girls on my street team – I adore you all. You always make me laugh, just when I need it most. Our dinosaur jokes make my day.

  To all my fellow InDivas – I’m so lucky to belong to an amazing group of Indie Authors that understand the importance of lifting one another up in this industry. Your advice, suggestions, questions and support are unwavering and I’m blessed to be surrounded by all of you. Thank you for your friendship.

  To my family – I love you all. It isn’t always easy following your dreams. It takes hard work, time, patience and understanding. Thank you for loving me through each and every step along the way.

  AUTHOR JENNIFER MILLER was born and raised in Chicago, Illinois but now calls Arizona home. Her love of reading began when she was a small child, and only continued to grow as she entered adulthood. Ever since winning a writing contest at the young age of nine, when she wrote a book about a girl with a pet unicorn, she’s dreamed of writing a book of her own. The important lesson she learned about dreams is that they don’t just fall into your lap – you have to chase them yourself. Most importantly, she is a wife and mother, and is very lucky to have a family that loves and supports her in all things. She also has an unhealthy addiction to handbags and chocolate covered strawberries, neither of which she cares to work on. For more information about Jennifer Miller, please visit www.jennifermillerwrites.com

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  “Fashion tip: Stilettos are great when paired with a great pair of jeans, a skirt, or a dress. Not only do they make your legs look longer and give your calves a great workout but they have the added bonus of coming in handy should you need to give a cheating husband a kick in the crotch!”

  I BLINK HARD AND TRY TO BRING THE PAPERS in front of me into focus. I’m almost done. I just need to sign a few more of these freaking legal documents and I can put this ridiculous mistake of a marriage behind me. When I met Deacon, I was a sophomore in college. I was vulnerable, and looking for an escape from the boring student I had become. Deacon offered me just the release I craved. The endless parties, tapped kegs, promises of hot sex, and occasionally other experimentation that I choose to forget, made getting involved with him a no-brainer. Add a side of studying and managing a fashion blog that took on a life of its own, you have my college life and relationship with Deacon in a nutshell.

  My heart aches; anguish now courses through my veins just as steadily as blood. I’m really not sure at this point how or why I am still feeling pain. If I’m honest with myself, I can’t really be surprised my marriage has ended this way. I mean, I got married in Vegas for god’s sake; at a drive up chapel, after a drunken late night proposal that I can barely remember. Spring Break during our senior year, a bunch of us had the brilliant idea to spend the week in Vegas. One night during our stay, we did the traditional walk up and down the strip, drinking the whole way. I vaguely remember Deacon making a production on the sidewalk, getting down on one knee and asking me to marry him, a rose he had bought from a street vendor in hand. Amongst the hoots and hollers of our friends, I impulsively accepted and we flagged down a taxi cab to take us to the closest chapel.

  This bizarre wedding was only the beginning of what ended up being a marriage full of questions and contradictions. I spent years wondering what I had gotten myself into and questioning why I stayed as long as I did. So the question remains, why then, am I still struggling? I’ve cried until I heaved from it over and over again and had nothing left. I’ve been so angry, that it felt like my insides were burning, and I was sure I was going to combust from the intensity of my fury. How my heart can still ache at a loss that frankly has been coming for a while, is unfathomable to me.

  I stare again at the papers, and while the whole document is in the same font, the words Dissolution of Marriage seem to be screaming at me, taunting me with their meaning.

  Dissolution of Marriage.

  Divorced at twenty – five.

  Single and just another statistic to add to the divorce rate.

  Admitting I never thought this would happen to me is a gigantic understatement. My life wasn’t supposed to go this way. At one time I had a plan, a dream, but little by little, it all fell apart.

  I briefly close my eyes and see myself on my wedding day, well what I remember of it anyway. Wearing my favorite designer jeans and Madonna t-shirt, giggling, with a cocktail in my hand; and while it may have been a crazy and an impulsive thing to do, I was actually elated and excited. When I woke up the next morning and realized what I had done, I knew things would never be the same. I had a brief sense of uncertainty and I wondered how I could have been so impulsive to make such a huge, life-altering decision, but at the same time, all I could see was the life I had always envisioned, more exciting and fuller because instead of just me…there would be an us. I wouldn’t have to be alone, vulnerable, and looking for an escape again. Maybe I could even resurrect the real me and get my life back on track. I would have a husband that would support me no matter what. Right? Any and all naysayers be damned, my life was about to start, and I would prove them all wrong. The world was mine! What a fool I was.

  Now, just four years after saying I do, I realize my life is nothing but a horrible cliché. I remember the day it all came crashing down and the reality of what my marriage had become was laid out before me, refusing to be ignored.

  With the eagerness of a child returning home after their long anticipated first day of school, delighted to have gotten off of work early and excited to see my husband, I exited the car. Bottle of wine in my hand and a sack of just-purchased groceries in the other arm, I intended on making Deacon a pasta dinner served by candlelight. I opened the door and walked into our apartment, immediately overcome with the stench of pot. As I walked to the kitchen and placed my packages on the counter, I saw a trail of clothing leading to the closed door of my bedroom. I froze. Doom and dread instantly ran through my body and I felt a burning from my neck to the top of my head, making me feel dizzy; sick. I knew without a doubt what I was going to fi
nd. I slowly started walking into my bedroom…

  “Olivia...? Olivia?”

  Blinking quickly and shaking my head, trying to rid myself of the awful picture in my mind, I look up at my attorney and attempt a smile. “I’m sorry, Clive. My mind wandered. You were saying?”

  “That’s okay, Olivia. I was just asking if you got everything signed? I am going to have my assistant make you a copy of the documents for your records.”

  Clive, whom I’m guessing is in his early 60s, has a pot belly, receding hair line and rather large ears. His kind and gentle personality never made me uncomfortable or feel stupid during this entire nightmare of a process. Once, during our conversation, he divulged he’s been happily married for 30 years and has three grown children. I imagine seeing the ugly side of marriages and divorces up-close and personal has made him realize how lucky he is. I never doubted for a second that he would get my divorce done quickly and accurately.

  “Thanks, Clive. That would be great,” I tell him as I hand him the documents I’ve signed for copying.

  Clive leaves his office and I’m left there with nothing but my thoughts once again. My mind flashes back to my apartment six months ago.