Life in a Rut, Love not Included (Love Not Included series Book 1)

by J. D. Hollyfield

  My face flushes instantly and I can feel the warmth in my cheeks. Jack just laughs and scoops me in for a hug. I love being in his arms. I wrap my arms around him and nestle my face into his chest.

  “So you’re headed out of town this weekend?” I say it before I think. I shouldn’t have made it known that I was listening to his call. I feel so stupid. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business—”

  He cuts me off. “I am not going anywhere.” He pulls away so he can look me in the eyes. “We have plans. I wanted to clear up some loose ends with clients so I am not bothered all weekend.”

  God I think I love you.

  “Oh.” I stand corrected.

  “I’m also giving you the day off. I have one more phone call to make then I’m going to drop you off at your house. I want you to pack some things so you are comfortable, because we are going to have an extended sleepover at my place. If that’s OK with you?”

  Is the sky blue??

  “I think I can manage that,” I say while my inner self dances in circles.

  “Good. Now get ready to go. And put some pants on. ‘Cause I’m about two seconds away from taking my shirt back and having my way with you for breakfast.”

  He pretends to dart at me and I flinch out of the way. He starts to laugh and then his phone rings.

  I let him take his call and head back to his room to collect my things.

  THIS IS WHAT IT feels like to be a teenager again! Before dropping me off, Jack and I immaturely make out in the truck in his driveway. We cannot seem to go even a few moments without throwing ourselves at one another. Knowing that the best is yet to come, we control our hormones long enough to get me home. After Jack drops me off, I walk inside hoping to avoid my parents. It’s not easy being a thirty-one-year-old walking in the house like it’s a walk of shame. I tiptoe to the stairs, and then I hear it.

  “Honey? Is that you?”

  Fail.

  “Yes, Mom?”

  “Two very large packages came for you early this morning. You might want to take a peek at it.”

  Now she’s got my attention. I walk into the kitchen and on the table sits the biggest bouquet of red roses I have ever seen. There has to be close to . . . seven dozen. My mouth drops open.

  Seven dozen.

  The amount of time we were together. And red. His favorite color. I start to feel sick.

  “Honey, you look pale. Are you feeling OK?” my mother asks.

  “Uh. I’m fine. When did these come?” I ask. How did he know where I was? I mean it’s not like I was in hiding, but still.

  “They came this morning. There is a card on it. I’m sure it will explain who they are from.” Like my mom nor myself doesn’t already know where they came from.

  My mom met Steve on numerous occasions. He would invite my parents to the city for dinners and cocktail events. He would wine and dine them, but never once did he make it when my parents invited him to their home for a nice family sit-down. That just wasn’t Steve. His family’s version of a sit-down was a twelve-course dinner with a butler and fancy things. My parents never showed that it bothered them but it was obvious they were hurt. “The man who is dating our daughter can’t come to a blue-collar household and sit down for a roast?” That’s what my dad would always say. I couldn’t even blame him. He was right.

  I jump back to reality and reach for the card. I feel sick even touching it. My nerves and anxiety do a 100% spike in the radar. My hands are shaking as I open the card. I don’t know what it’s going to say. I am not even sure what I want it to say.

  I unfold the card and read:

  Sarbear,

  I miss you. I miss us.

  Steve.

  I can’t do much but stare at it. So much is going through my head that I can’t even grasp onto one thought to process. Why now? It’s been months! Why is he choosing to reach out now? He misses me? I am going to be sick. At what point did he decide that he missed me? When he realized he cheated on me? When he got sick of Stacey? Did he have some sick sixth sense that knew I was happy so he decided to ruin it for me?! I’m not sure when my mom decided to leave me to my thoughts but when I look around at the kitchen, it is empty and drowning in flowers.

  My mom walks back into the kitchen from the back and looks at me worriedly. “Honey, your second package is outside on the back porch. He insisted on waiting for you.”

  What the hell?

  “Who is it?” I ask even though I know. It’s not just a who. It’s a him.

  How did he find me?

  I stand shell-shocked. What the mother effen’ hell is he doing at my parents’ house? He’s never stepped foot in the suburbs and now he is on my back porch?!

  I walk to the other side of the kitchen and exit out the back door. I look at the beautiful patio and addition that Jack and his crew have built and see Steve standing on it. My anger thickens.

  “What are you doing here?” is all I can manage to spit out.

  He turns abruptly, not expecting my harsh tone. “You were not returning any of my calls. I had to see you.”

  Calls? Oh yeah! My phone! I haven’t had my phone since weeks ago . . . Since Jack.

  “I got rid of my phone,” I retort.

  “Can we talk? I miss you. I’m sorry but I need you to hear me out,” he says with a bit of begging in his voice.

  “I am not sure I have anything to say to you, Steve. You shouldn’t have come here,” I say, expressing anger but with a little more struggle in my voice than I intended.

  “I wouldn’t have come if you would have just called me back.”

  “How dare you just show up at my parents’ house thinking that you can just ask things of me! You have no right to me anymore, Steve,” I snap back, though I’m inwardly hoping I do not break down and cry.

  “I know. Sar, I need you to understand. I love you. Please. Just listen.” I do not know what to do in this situation. My emotions are on high alert right now and I am not sure how much fight I have in me. I sit down on the lawn chair and wait for him to speak.

  He sits down at the end of the chair and faces me. I feel a sudden urge of discomfort and regret even addressing him.

  “I want you to know that I broke things off with Stacey. I mean . . . I didn’t break anything off. There was nothing to break off. It was a one-time thing.”

  I stare are him in complete disbelief. He catches my vibe and retracts.

  “OK, I’m sorry, it was more than once, but it didn’t mean anything. She was always all over me, and I’m sorry I was weak. I just gave in. I hate myself for what I’ve done to you. To us. I miss you, Sarbear. You have to believe me. I am miserable without you.”

  Just having to listen to him call me by the nickname he gave me is painful. Listening to the details start to make me shake. I begin to feel sick all over again. Just when I finally bury all these bad truths about what they both did to me, here he is creating fresh wounds.

  “Why, Steve? Why! I gave you everything,” I say in a strangled voice. I am about to let myself break down and cry. He attempts to move closer to me, and I put my hand up to stop him. “Don’t.”

  “Sar. Please. I love you. I cannot explain how sorry I am. Please come back to me. We can work this out. I can talk to my father and work out something with your job. Stacey is done. Please.”

  He then puts his hand on my chin to lift my face so I am able to make eye contact with him. I stare into his eyes and try to find guilt or remorse in there somewhere. I see the face of a man I thought I loved for seven years until he tore me apart. I feel a tear run down my face. He brushes the tear away with his thumb and bends forward, swiftly placing a kiss to my lips.

  I feel the touch of his lips and his mouth on mine but what is missing is that spark. The feeling that in my heart I know it fits. The way I feel when Jack’s lips are touching mine. It takes mere seconds to know there is nothing here for me anymore.

  “Stop!” I exclaim, and push his mouth away from my face.

 
“Why? I thought you wanted this. Wanted us?” he asks in an almost annoyed tone. “You wouldn’t leave my side when we were together. I know you love me. Don’t act like this isn’t what you want, Sarah. We can work this out. Move past this. We are adults.”

  He is clearly in denial and I am about to go apeshit. His selling speech to get me back has turned into making note of my weaknesses while we were together. How could I have not seen what an ass he was before?

  I stand up and wipe my mouth with my sleeve. “Get off my porch, Steve. And do not come back here.”

  “Sarah, come on. Talk to me. I’m not going to give up on us.”

  I walk past him and he makes an attempt to grab at my arm. I bat his hand away with force and give him my most threatening face. “Get OFF my porch, NOW!”

  This is a side that I am sure Steve has never seen of me. I cannot say I ever got mad in front of him, so right now he looks a little bit out of sorts with my outburst.

  “I will leave now, Sarah, but we are not done here. I will come back when you are not so angry and we will finish this talk. I’m not giving up.” He finishes his last sentence to my back because at this point I am already retreating into the house.

  I slam the door behind me and I just snap. I take the card and throw it with all my power, then take my arm and swipe the flower vase off the table, and watch it fall and shatter to the floor. With the sudden crash, I throw my hands to my mouth. Once the rage mellows in my brain, quickly come the tears. I begin to cry. It hits me harder and harder every second I stand in that kitchen staring at the array of roses and broken glass covering the floor. I can’t do this. I run out of the kitchen and up to my room. Slamming the door, I throw myself on my bed and cry so hard I think crack a rib.

  I must have passed out after my crazy display of waterworks. I sit up to look at the clock, noticing it is pretty late in the day. Jack will be here soon. I go to the bathroom to wash my face but I can’t hide the fact that my face is puffy and red. Maybe I can lie and tell him I had an allergic reaction.

  Yeah, to ex-boyfriends.

  I put on more makeup than usual, hoping to hide my blotchy face, then go to pack some things and head downstairs. I start to feel guilty about the mess I abruptly left in the kitchen and go to clean it up. As I enter the kitchen I notice it is all gone. No glass, no flowers. Someone picked it all up while I was sleeping. Feeling even worse now, knowing it was probably my poor mother, I venture out to find her. The front door is open so I assume she is outside. I open the door to walk outside and see Aunt Raines sitting at the end of the driveway, with a bucket of red roses and a table. She has a sign in one hand, and a glass, presumably of vermouth, in the other.

  I walk down the driveway to get a better look.

  “Aunt Raines, what are you doing here?” I ask curiously.

  She responds in the world’s most chipper voice. “Oh why hello there, sweet baby!”

  Just then, a car pulls up and a man gets out. He walks up to what looks like some tables set up with her jewelry. He skims the items, then chooses a set of earrings. He approaches Aunt Raines, hands her some money, and in return she hands him a handful of roses. He thanks her, gets back in his car and drives away.

  What the . . . ?

  “Take a seat, baby. Don’t strain yourself.” She points to the lawn chair next to her. As I skeptically sit, she continues. “See now, I found all these roses in the trash and just couldn’t let them go to waste. I dug them out and put them in this here bucket. I made some signs for ‘Free Roses’ and set them all along the main road ahead there. People come and pick some free roses, then look at my pretty jewelry. I have had three buyers so far today!”

  I look at her completely stunned.

  “I figured these flowers were tainted and came from nothing good, so I wanted to help get rid of them. The vermouth is helping me do it in a kind manner. And it’s helping me sell my jewelry!”

  Again, another car pulls up, and a lady exits her vehicle. She walks up to the table of jewelry and begins inspecting Aunt Raines’ pieces. As I sit here speechless, I watch the woman purchase a ring, take a complimentary batch of roses, and then she is on her way.

  Impressive . . .

  I am so overcome with emotion I think I am going to start crying all over again.

  “Thank you,” I say to her in a hushed voice, trying not to break.

  “Oh, no need to thank me, honey. I’ve watched you bouncing around here the last couple of weeks and I see someone who is getting her life back. It ain’t no secret you have love again in that sweet heart of yours.” She takes a swig of her vermouth and continues. “I told you before, baby. Sometimes negative life-changing things have to happen for the positive ones to break through.”

  She is so right.

  “I love you, Aunt Raines.”

  “I love you too, sweet child. “

  Just then, a giant truck pulls into the driveway and Jack gets out. He looks at us both suspiciously and walks our way.

  “Starting the weekend without me?” he asks. I’m assuming he spots Aunt Raines’ half-empty glass.

  “Not me. I’m waiting for you. Don’t worry,” I say and stand up to greet him. I place a soft kiss on his cheek.

  “You ready?” he asks.

  “Yep. Let me go get my things,” I say and go running into the house. Steve hurdle dissolved. I put it in the back of my mind and pack it away beneath yesterday’s trash.

  I grab my things and head back out to meet an awaiting Jack. I can tell his curiosity at the vision of Aunt Raines. He says his good-byes and helps me in the truck.

  Once en route, he reaches behind his seat and pulls out a bouquet of assorted yellow flowers. He sets them in my lap and continues to focus on driving.

  What’s with today and flowers?

  I pick up the beautiful bouquet of yellow flowers. “What’s the special occasion?” I ask.

  “You’re my special occasion,” he replies.

  Did I mention that I probably love him?

  I don’t know where this comes from. Well I do, but I end up blurting it out anyway.

  “Why yellow?” I ask like that isn’t A) unappreciative, and B) unappreciative.

  “Because it’s a color that reminds me of you. Vibrant and happy. And my life has been both since your car took a nosedive into the back of my truck.”

  That’s it.

  Without a single thought about traffic laws, I hurdle myself at him and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “Whoa . . .” He screeches as he nearly sideswipes a fire hydrant. “What was that for?”

  “It was for being you,” I say with the biggest smile on my face. I decline the option to go back to my seat. Instead I stay pressed against Jack’s frame until we arrive at our destination.

  THE DRIVE IS PRETTY quiet but extremely loud at the same time. Neither one of us offers up conversation, but the emotions that are radiating off both of us say enough. The way my body hums when I’m so close to his . . . I lean my head on his shoulder while he drives. I can hear Jack sigh in contentment. The gesture is so simple but so perfect. We enter in the city and pull up to a restaurant. Jack gets out and allows the valet to take his keys.

  “Wait, what are we doing? I thought we were going back to your place?” I say, not even realizing how far we’ve driven already.

  “We are. After I feed you dinner.”

  Oh-kay.

  We walk into the restaurant and from the outside you would not think it was anything fancy. The sign is hidden and I wouldn’t have even known it was here if Jack hadn’t guided me towards the door.

  “Hey Jack! Good to see you! We have a special table for you. Right this way.”

  A small plump man in his 40s or so with a thick Italian accent greets us and shakes Jack’s hand. He looks my way and smiles in what seems to be approval.

  “Thanks, Antonio.”

  Jack grabs my hand and I follow him and the man named Antonio to this back room where a table is set for two with m
ultiple candles glowing in the dim light.

  I look around at how small and homely the place is. There aren’t many people in the restaurant but you can tell it probably gets pretty cramped.

  An epiphany hits me, but before I can actually bring the thought to my mouth, Jack speaks.

  “Starting to look familiar to you?”

  “Yes!” I exclaim. “This is the restaurant you are working on!”

  “The one we are working on. And yes.” Jack smiles.

  He pulls out the chair for me to sit then walks around to the other chair and seats himself. I continue to look around in astonishment. This place is amazing! The layouts that Jack created would be perfect for this restaurant. The open plan and the see-through kitchen would bring so much more business. It all makes perfect sense now as well as with the outside signage. Just putting my design and placing it into the real space here would be glorious.

  “You look happy,” he says breaking my thoughts.

  “I am.” And it is the truth. I am happy. I am not even sure I have ever been this happy. I can’t remember ever truly being happy with Steve. With my job. With living. It just doesn’t compare to the feelings I am having now.

  Jack reaches out and grabs my hand. He brings it to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to my palm. “I’m glad . . .” he says.

  DINNER TURNS OUT TO be incredible. The food alone is a reason to be a returning customer at this place. I’m sure that even if the place was left as-is, it would still be successful.

  Antonio personally brought out each course, and took his time explaining to me the detailed ingredients and cooking methods that go into each dish. I could tell that Jack has been through this all before, since he was not paying as much attention to Antonio as he was paying attention to me.

  In-between courses, Jack explained to Antonio that I had finished the project on his restaurant and was ready to sit down and formulate the final steps. Antonio, of course, was over the moon with excitement and kissed my hands and my cheeks so many times, I lost count.

  After a while, Antonio finally disappeared back into the kitchen.