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..
She sits down on a padded wicker loveseat. Instead of going to a chair, I sit beside her. Close enough that her thigh brushes against mine a few times. Avery shifts to balance her plate and scoot away a few inches, but my proximity leaves little room for her to go.
“Tell me about the email.”
Her feigned interest in the food on her plate distracts me from the conversation. Avery was once a self-declared foodie, but this new version of her makes no sense, and coincides with him.
I slice a piece of sausage and drop it on her plate between the quinoa and blueberries she must have requested but has understandably lost interest in. “Try it.”
Forking two of the pieces off my plate for myself, I chew and nudge her again. “Eat.”
“Stop talking with food in your mouth.” When she rolls her eyes and smirks at me, I know I’m making progress.
“I will if you eat that,” I say, pointing my fork at the sausage. Chef Laurel flew selections like this organic sage chicken sausage in just for Avery. 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 has to know it. I know I do. Chef Laurel is wrapped around this woman’s finger, almost as tightly coiled around it as me.
Nah, there’s no way she could have anyone else as twisted around that pinky as tight as me.
Avery just has this effect on people. Even random strangers love doing things for her, because she’s always so giving of herself, and cares without expectation. 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 often sends for it just because he knows how much she enjoys it.
And like the voice of temptation, it’s my duty to remind her of these things. “You know you want to.”
The corner of her mouth twitches until she graces me with a sweet smile. “I do.”
“I know. Here.” I add a full link and one of my pancakes to her plate.
To my surprise, she doesn’t protest anymore. I do catch a moment of remorse after her first bite, but by the second one, she’s forgotten all about the pile of quinoa on her plate.
This is where things get uncomfortable. Not like it was beachside yesterday—I’m talking about the way she just woke up my penis with that moan, like she did the other night. It doesn’t help that her head rolls back, as she has no shame indulging in what is 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 do me all the way in.
So how do I handle it? I take some more food off my plate and give 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 takes another bite of my pancake and follows it with a quick swipe of the tongue to catch a drop of syrup hanging on to the edge of her bottom lip.
“What did the email say?”
Huh? I blink to shake the trance she put me in. “Oh. Donovan approved the budget and next month’s shooting schedule.”
Whatever I said instantly robs Avery of the blissful expression on her face that I was enjoying with her. I’ve heard about sexual encounters that fizzle with a quickness, so I’m guessing this would be the food version.
“What?” I ask.
Setting her plate down on the table in front of us, Avery starts to move in careful, measured ways. “Next month?”
“Why is that a surprise? You’re the one that drafted the schedule.”
She nods, and when she bites on her lip, I know whatever she’s about to say is not going to be good. “About that.”
Leveling my eyes on her, I put my plate down then drop 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.”
Prize: The Breakup Plan (signed copy) & $25 Gift Card
End Date: October 1, 2018 at 12:00 AM
Author Website: www.tiawithapen.com
Goodreads Author Profile: http://goodreads.com/tiakelly
Add Book on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/41508689-the-breakup-plan
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Tia-Kelly/e/B00B7AKXGI/
Kimberlee is an avid reader, book reviewer and blogger. When she isn’t reading a book or writing an article she is playing around with recipes in her kitchen.