Keith made it known that I was the problem in the marriage, not giving him what he needed, but thankfully most people defended me in our small town in Colorado. I think over the time we were together, I knew deep down that something was not right, so when we did divorce, I did not grieve our marriage; I think the thing that hurt the most was the humiliation.
Thankfully, with my family and Simone, I am over that trash-bag and his drowning cat.
When I see them around town I ignore them, making sure that they know I am loving being single and being free from his lies.
They do make snide comments because it seems that they are both stuck in their high school bully era.
I turn and bump into my mother, spilling Dorothy’s coffee, and I sigh.
“Two left feet, baby. Two left feet.” My mom winks at me.
Oh, did I mention I am a complete and utter klutz? Or as we like to say, I am blessed with the misfortune of mishaps.
I will trip and fall over air.
Nothing can stop me from almost face-planting into the floor or a wall.
Believe me, I have done that before.
It is like the universe has decided that I am to take on all the misfortune and mishaps, to save the people.
“I know. Damn, you would have thought that I would have grown out of this by now. I mean, being twenty-eight is old enough to not fall over fresh air.”
Remaking the coffee, I wander back over to Dorothy and place her mug on the table. She is rapidly tapping away on her laptop, so I step away not to disturb her and I back up into a customer.
“Oh, I am so sorry.” I gasp, turning around to see it is a teenage boy.
He smirks at me, his hands on my hips, so I quickly step out of his hold.
“It is my pleasure, baby.” He winks.
Eww. What the hell?
“Yeah. No.” I wave my finger at him and walk away with a shudder.
When did teenage boys get so freaking brazen?
Simone always tells me that I am a knockout, but I find it hard to believe. She is the one who hooks up with men most weekends, the hussy, with her long legs that go on for days, her round boobs, and long ink-black hair that hangs down her back.
Whereas, I am on the curvy side, with some love handles. I enjoy food, so what? My brunette hair has a flash of red running through it. It is naturally curly and is a pain in the ass to wear down in the summer with it being so thick and a pain to tie it up, but I make do.
This is me and I am happy being me.
Chapter Two
Romeo
The scent of pasta, herbs, and tomatoes waft through my parents’ home as I enter for our weekly Sunday lunch. It's a standing engagement that my mother makes us keep. Either that, or you will feel her wrath, and believe me, that is not good.
One time I got so drunk I slept through Sunday, and my mother did not speak to me for a month.
Asher, my best friend since school and now my right-hand man, milked it and told my mother some of the scandalous things I did that night, just to add salt to the wound. Fucking prick.
He is like the second child they never got to have, as I am an only child. My mother could not get pregnant after me for some reason. It was just not meant to be, so when I brought Asher home from school one day with bruises and a rumbling stomach, my parents took him in and that was that. He belonged to the De Massy family.
“Romeo—is that you?” my mother calls out.
“Yeah, Ma.” I enter the kitchen to see my father sitting at the table, a newspaper in hand, while my mom is at the stove stirring something in the pot. No doubt it’s her famous herb tomato sauce that she makes from scratch. She even grows her own tomatoes. My mother has a green thumb and loves spending time out in the garden.
