Him & I Read online

  Him & I

  Melody Eve

  Edited by

  Booktique Editing

  Illustrated by

  Shanoff Designs

  Copyright © 2018 by Melody Eve

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  I would like to dedicate this book to all the people who thought they couldn’t but tried anyway and succeeded.

  How can we ever know what we might be if we give up?

  Contents

  The Little Prince Quote

  Prologue

  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

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Little Prince Quote

  It is only with the heart that we can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the naked eye.

  -The Little Prince

  Prologue

  I feel a pang of guilt when my father lovingly takes my hand and places it into David’s at the end of our walk down the aisle. It’s a shock to my senses after two solid weeks of feeling nothing but rage. I push it down deep with all of the other emotions I will have to deal with later when I’m on my way to Cancun for my honeymoon… alone.

  I smile at David, and he winks at me. He winks at every woman he encounters. It’s not something reserved only for me. Nothing David does is reserved only for me. I learned that painful lesson when I discovered an envelope of glossy eight by ten photographs that had been pushed under the door of my apartment two weeks ago.

  I don’t know who put them there. There was no postage and no words on the envelope. I opened it expecting to find a catalog of wedding bouquets or cakes.

  Instead, it contained photographs of my loving fiancé with my best friend and maid of honor covered in sweat having sex right here on my very own couch.

  The pictures slid out of my fingers fanning out on the floor showing me every intimate position they had been in. I covered my mouth and ran to the bathroom to vomit.

  After two hours of asking myself the usual questions, why me, how did I not see this, and what do I do now, I got up off the floor, showered, and began to plan my revenge.

  David is a professional baseball player for the Chicago Cubs. He’s handsome and charming, and he has a pretty fat bank account. He agreed to pay for our wedding since my parents both work blue-collar jobs and live from paycheck to paycheck. He wasn’t thrilled about doing it, but he loved the attention he got for offering.

  When David winks, I want to stomp my two-thousand-dollar stiletto heel into his foot, but I hold up my pointer finger instead, and this is what I say. “Before we begin, I’d like to ask a favor of everyone, please.” A hush fell over the church at my request, and the groomsmen and bridesmaids all looked at one another. This isn’t how we practiced it last night.

  “I’ve placed a surprise under your seat. Will everyone reach under and get it, please?” My mother looked at me and then at my father sitting next to her before leaning forward to do as I asked.

  Everyone followed suit, and moments later, three hundred and fifty guests were gasping and murmuring under their breath while looking at a photograph of my fiancé and my maid of honor in a compromising position.

  I removed my veil and handed it to David who was frowning deeply. Then I unhooked the breakaway skirt portion of my wedding gown and dropped it on the floor leaving me in a plain, mid-thigh length white skirt that I was supposed to have worn to our reception.

  “Maybe you should give that to Lynn, you two seem compatible in bed. I’m sure you have other things in common as well, like lying,” I said to David.

  I turned to my quickly-paling best friend, Lynn, and glared. “You are dead to me, Lynn. I don’t ever want to see your lying face again.”

  With that, I strut down the aisle feeling the weight of a bad relationship being lifted by God, himself, from my shoulders. I thank him for sending the pictures to save me from making the biggest mistake of my life and hail a taxi to the airport outside.

  Chapter 1

  The first thing I do on my flight to Mexico is down two little bottles of tequila and shut off my phone for the duration of my trip. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to feel the humiliation of being cheated on or have to answer to my parents for my tasteless act of revenge. There will be more than enough time for that when I return home. For the next two weeks, I plan on getting drunk regularly while lying on the beach, reading books, and licking my wounds. I’m not going to make friends or speak to anyone I don’t have to.

  I packed bikinis, a couple of long, flowing skirts with tank tops to match, and a pair of flip-flops. I’ve never traveled so far away or packed so lightly.

  All of the beautiful and expensive lingerie I received at bridal showers has been burned to a crisp. Every photograph of David and me has been sent to the cloud for eternity, and I have arranged for my belongings to be moved out of David’s house and back into my apartment.

  He surprised me last week when he moved my stuff into his house early. What an act I had to put on that day. Oh, David, how thoughtful. Thank you so much for taking care of that for me. Oh, David, I love you so much, I can’t wait to live with you forever. Not.

  The beautiful Latina flight attendant passes with her drink cart one more time, and I hold up two fingers for two more tequilas. She smiles and passes them to me glancing ever so briefly at the empty seat next to me as if she can guess what’s going on.

  “My fiancé was a lying, cheating bastard, and I’m going on my honeymoon alone,” I blurt out.

  Her eyes widen, and she speaks to me with a thick Spanish accent. “I’m so sorry, honey. He is stupid to cheat on such a beautiful woman. You will do better.”

  “Nope, I think I’m done now. Men are pigs,” I slur and open little bottle number three.

  “Oh no, you are too young and beautiful. We all need love in our lives. You will find it, you’ll see. Be careful with those,” she nods at the tequila. “They catch up to you quickly.” She smiles and continues down the narrow aisle in her high heels and tight skirt. Why do flight attendants have to wear high heels and tight skirts? It seems like a job for comfy shoes and clothes if you ask me.

  She’s right about one thing, the drinks. I almost never drink. David says I’m boring when it comes to socializing. I would rather be at home curled up on the couch with a good book in my leggings and a t-shirt than half-naked in a loud dance club with strangers’ hands all over me.

  Maybe I should have gone out with him more? If I’d been more supportive of his likes, he probably wouldn’t have ended up fucking my best friend. I could have shown my face at his friends’ parties more often, done a few drugs just to fit in, and flirted with his slimy friends.

  No. That’s not me, and I can’t take the blame for that. He knew me, and he even told me he liked that I was a quiet homebody. He said he didn’t expect me to change for him. Or maybe he just liked that my introversion made it easier for him to play around, who knows?

  It’s time to stop thinking about it. This is my take-a-breath-and-get-ready-to-start- a-new-life trip, not my try-to-figure-out-where-I-went-wrong-with-dick-hole-David trip. He nee
ds to take that damn trip, not me.

  I’m seeing double after shot number four, and a nap is calling my name. The next thing I know, we are landing, and my pretty flight attendant friend is gently shaking my shoulder.

  “Senorita, you need to wake up now. We are in Cancun.”

  I scrunch up my forehead and open one eye only to shut it right away. “Already?”

  “Yes, you had a nice nap. Everyone has left the plane. I let you sleep as long as I could, but we have to clean up.”

  “Oh my gosh.” I sit up and find the plane empty, and the other flight attendants are looking at me with pity in their eyes. “Sorry, too much tequila,” I say, and everyone nods like they understand. I hold my head with one hand when I stand up. It aches, and I’m dizzy. No more drinking today.

  “Have a good trip and remember, you will find love again,” she says as I sling my duffle bag over my shoulder and weave down the aisle toward the door.

  In the airport, the lights are also bright. Everything is. This is Cancun, land of bright lights, bright clothing, and bright smiles. I squint like a hermit all the way to the main entrance bypassing the luggage belt where everyone is waiting for his or her bags, thankful that I packed lightly.

  Outside, I search for the Coconut Bay Resort logo on a shuttle vehicle. When I find it, I hop in and remind myself to buy a pair of dark sunglasses. If I’m going to drink, I’ll need them.

  A few other couples get into the shuttle after me, and I watch them interact with a strange sort of relief in my heart that I am not here with David.

  I am glad I found out what kind of man he was before we got married. We dated for six years, and the entire time I wondered if I should be feeling more. David was familiar and, for the most part, reliable. We did couple things like movies and family holidays and vacations. But it always felt like something was lacking. When I mentioned it to David, he said things would be different when we had wedding bands on our fingers.

  I think he meant things would be guaranteed as in he wouldn’t have to worry about me walking out on him for cheating because divorce is messy and expensive. I would not have cared about the expense. I would have spent my last dime divorcing him.

  In my honeymoon suite, I remove the giant bouquet of flowers from the bed and toss them into the trash. I lug the giant gift basket filled with snacks and two bottles of wine to the bed and dump it out searching for the things I like and tossing the things I don’t.

  The sun is bright, and the ocean is right outside my door. I roll off the mattress and pull the heavy curtains shut plunging the room into darkness. Much better. If I could have switched the trip to somewhere cold and gloomy, I would have, but it was too late when I found out the truth about David and Lynn.

  I take the room phone off the hook and sit cross-legged on the bed cracking open a can of strawberry Perrier sparkling water. I take a long drink and open a bag of pistachios. Now what? I shouldn’t be tired after sleeping on my flight, but I lie back against the heaping pile of pillows and close my eyes.

  I want to sleep until this whole nightmare is a dim memory. I want to wake up a new woman and emerge from my room a beautiful butterfly irresistible to all men, and then have a dozen torrid affairs before I go home.

  But I won’t. I’m not that kind of girl and have never been. I’m more the sit-in-my- cocoon-and-wait-for-the-vacation-to-be-over type. I’m not even the drink-myself-into- oblivion type, but I might be soon.

  I must have fallen to sleep. I wake with a start when someone knocks on my door. “Coming, just a minute,” I call, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and standing too quickly. Why am I rushing? Whoever it is can wait.

  I turn on the bathroom light and smooth my crazy blonde bedhead into a ponytail and wipe the mascara from under my eyes. I look like I’ve been crying. Maybe I was in my sleep.

  The knock comes again, and I call out, “I’m coming” while I trudge to the door. I swing it open and find a man dressed in a black and teal Coconut Bay uniform.

  “Ms. Savage?”

  “Yes, who’s asking?”

  “You have a phone call at the front desk, ma’am, and your phone must be off the hook.”

  “That’s because I don’t want to talk to anyone. Tell them I’m not taking calls, please.”

  “He is very insistent. I don’t think he will take no for an answer.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. Hang up on him if you have to. And for future reference, I am not taking any calls for the duration of my trip. Unless someone dies or there’s been an accident, tell them I’m not here.”

  He looks apprehensive. I start to close the door, and he puts his hand on it keeping it open. “I don’t want any trouble, Ms. Savage. I have seen this happen before where someone tries to hide, and the person looking becomes more and more aggressive until they arrive in our lobby and then things can get very messy. If I may, I would like to suggest that you come to the phone and tell this man how you feel in person.” He shrugs apologetically. “It might help?”

  “Listen…” I look down at the name badge on his vest, “… Emilio, I will come and tell whoever it is to stop calling if it makes you feel better, but after that, I expect you to handle any further calls for me. I’m here on my honeymoon alone, and I don’t want to be disturbed. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll do as I ask.”

  “If I were you, I’d listen to the lady,” a husky voice says from behind Emilio. Emilio removes his hand from the door to take a step back. I should take advantage of the distraction to close and lock the door. Instead, I open it to see who is coming to my defense.

  Standing behind Emilio is the most delicious man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He's six-foot tall, maybe more, with dark, thick wavy hair that curls over his collar in a defiant way. The length doesn’t quite go with his perfectly-fitted suit. His steely gray eyes glance back and forth between Emilio and me assessing the situation. He doesn’t seem concerned about butting in where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he seems quite comfortable playing the part of my gallant knight in shining armor.

  This is the kind of drop-dead gorgeous man I should run from, the kind that makes me lose control.

  I try to swallow, but my throat is dry, and I cough instead.

  “Excuse me,” I say to both men. “Thank you for coming to my defense.”

  “My pleasure,” Mr. Sex on Legs says, raising his eyebrows at Emilio who seems to be under the same spell as I am. “Are you going to handle that call for this beautiful lady or would you like me to do it for you?”

  Poor Emilio jumps snapping out of the fog that’s settled around us. “Oh, yes, sir, of course. I’ll handle it, and I will make sure no one else bothers you for the rest of your stay.” He gives me a quick bow and turns on his heels to leave. We watch him until he disappears around the corner.

  “Excuse me for eavesdropping, but did you say you’re on your honeymoon?”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Yeah, well, it was supposed to be, but now, not so much.”

  “I see. So, you’re going to hide out in your room for… How long are you here?”

  “Two weeks, and yes, that’s the plan.” His eyes narrow, and he drags his gaze down my body and back to my face. A warm knot begins to form in my stomach. What is he thinking? Is he judging me, checking me out, wondering why I’m honeymooning alone, looking for flaws, finding them?

  “Have dinner with me. One meal outside your room won’t ruin your self-imposed solitary confinement.”

  Dinner? Do I want to eat dinner with a stranger? I look him over, and that’s when it dawns on me that he’s not dressed like other people at the resort. The weather is hot, and even the management here dresses in white cargo shorts and teal-colored floral shirts.

  This man looks like he belongs on Wall Street, not in a tropical paradise. “Do you work here?” I ask.

  He looks down at his suit where I am looking and back at me. “No, but I am here on business. My name is Roman,” he says extending his hand to shak
e mine. I hesitate and decide what the hell before sliding my hand into his.

  What happens next is difficult to describe. My body leans in, the air around us feels heavy, and my eyes gloss over with tears. My reaction to his touch is mysterious. I’m not an emotional person. I’ve only cried a couple of times since I found out about David and Lynn, and most of that was out of anger.

  “And yours?” I don’t register what he’s asking. He reads my puzzled expression. “Your name? Roman is mine, what’s yours?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Aria. Aria Savage. Nice to meet you.” Still holding my hand, one side of his mouth turns up into a sly grin.

  “What?” I ask, wondering what is making him smile like he wants to eat me alive.

  “Savage. What was your married name going to be?”

  “Brown.” Why does he want to know that?

  “I’m so glad you didn’t do it. Your name suits you well," he says with a chuckle.

  “How would you know?”

  “Oh, believe me, I know. Do you feel that?” he says squeezing my hand. I look down and nod in agreement. I do feel it. The second his skin touched mine, it was pure unadulterated chemistry.

  “That’s something we cannot ignore. I’ll be back in an hour to pick you up for dinner.” He releases my hand, and I stumble back a step woozy at being set free.

  “Wear a dress, I’m taking you dancing.” He turns to leave, and I watch him walk away wondering what the hell just happened.

  When he is at the end of the hall about to turn out of my sight, I call out to him, “Sorry, not tonight,” and close my door. I half expect him to come back and argue with me about it, but he doesn’t which is good because he makes me weak.