A
man without a plan is a shell without purpose.
Which is why I sat down almost nine years ago and put pen to paper
mapping out my ten-year plan. I meant business. Everything that could set me up
for a lifetime of joy had to go down on the list, and every day I worked my ass
off to fulfill it.
Open my own sports agency. Check.
Earn first million by my thirtieth birthday. I did that a week before I turned 26.
Negotiate the most lucrative contract in Major League’s history. Did that, too. Then went and broke my own
record. (Thanks big bro!)
I could go on, but this isn’t about bragging. It’s me admitting in
the midst of drafting something that helps shape and mold much of my success, I
made a costly mistake.
One day I realized all those entries with corresponding checkmarks
are pointless if I never factored into the equation the most important goal of
all. Avery.
Perhaps way back then I wasn’t ready to see how much my best
friend of fifteen years deserved that number one spot in my life. Maybe I was
blind since the whole settle down and get married scenario wasn’t my thing
since, well, forever. But now that I’m aware of the role I need her to fill in
my life, there’s no such thing as letting go until I can convince her to be
mine.
Considering she’s about to marry someone else does make winning
her heart a little bit dicey. But if there’s anything you should ever know
about me is that I always play to win. And losing Avery is non-negotiable.
The
Breakup Plan.
A
best friends to enemies romance.
He ruined her wedding day and he'll do it again until she's his.
Exercpt
She sat down on a padded wicker
loveseat. Instead of going to a chair, I sat beside her. Close enough that her
thigh brushed against mine a few times. Avery shifted to balance her plate and
scoot away a few inches, but my proximity left little room for her to go.
“Tell me about the email?”
Her feigned interest in the food on her
plate distracted me from the conversation. Avery was once a self-declared
foodie, but this new version of her made no sense and coincided with him.
I sliced a piece of sausage and dropped
it on her plate between the quinoa and blueberries she must have requested but
understandably lost interest in. “Try it.”
“Drew.”
Forking two of the pieces off my plate
for myself, I chewed and nudged her again. “Eat.”
“Stop talking with food in your mouth.”
When she rolled her eyes and smirked at me, I knew I was making progress.
“I will if you eat that,” I said,
pointing my fork at the sausage. Chef Laurel flew selections like this organic sage
chicken sausage in just for Avery when he would likely grunt if I wanted
something from the Whole Foods around the corner from my house. And I’m the one
paying him. She had to know it. I know I did. Chef Laurel was wrapped around
this woman’s finger and was almost as tightly coiled around it as me. Nah, there’s
no way she could have anyone else as twisted around that pinky so tight or
discombobulated as me.
Avery just has this effect on people.
Even random strangers love doing for her because she was always so giving of
herself and cares without expectation in return. Avery also adores Chef Laurel,
and when he prepared a meal once with this sausage from whatever city we were
visiting at the time, Avery made it known for an entire week straight how much
she loved it. To thank her for appreciating his food, Chef would often send for
it just because he knew how much she enjoyed it.
And like the voice of temptation, it
was my duty to remind her of these things. “You know you want to.”
The corner of her mouth twitched until
she graced me with a sweet smile. “I do.”
“I know. Here.” I added a full link to
her plate and one of my pancakes.
To my surprise, she didn’t protest
anymore. I did catch a moment of remorse after her first bite, but by the
second one, she forgot all about the pile of quinoa on her plate.
“Mmmmm.”
This is where things got uncomfortable.
Not like it was beachside yesterday, I’m talking about the way she woke up my
penis with that moan just like she did the other night. It didn’t help that her
head rolled back as she had no shame indulging aloud what was obviously a rare
moment of ecstasy. Hair falling back over the sofa cushion, that sensual neck
of hers daring me to move closer for a nip and those brown eyes damn near
rolling back into yesterday did me all the way in.
So how did I handle it? I took some
more food off my plate and gave it to her. You think I’m going to pass up the
chance at watching someone as beautiful as Avery damn near have an orgasm over some
buttermilk pancakes and maple syrup?
Avery took another bite of my pancake
and followed it with a quick swipe of the tongue to catch a drop of syrup
hanging onto the edge of her bottom lip.
“What did the email say?”
Huh? I blinked to shake the trance she
put me in. “Oh. Donovan approved the budget and next month’s shooting
schedule.”
Whatever I said instantly robbed Avery
of the blissful expression on her face that I was also enjoying with her. I
heard about sexual encounters that fizzled with a quickness so I’m guessing
this would be the food version.
“What?” I asked.
Setting her plate down on the table in
front of us, Avery started to move in careful, measured ways. “Next month?”
“Why is that a surprise? You’re the one
that drafted the schedule.”
She nodded, and when she bit on her
lip, I knew whatever she was about to say was not going to be good. “About
that.”
Leveling my eyes on her, I put my plate
down then dropped an arm across the back of the sofa. “Avery.”
“I was hoping we could discuss this
when we got back to Philly, but I guess I might as well tell you now.”
“Tell me what, Avery. Just spill it.”
#itscomplicated #TheBreakupPlan #TiaKelly #HonMagPR
Author Bio
Tia Kelly is the author of contemporary and women's fiction. She is known for her candid way of capturing life, love and relationships… one story at a time.
GIVEAWAY
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End Date: October 1, 2018 at 12:00 AM
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