Lori Zecca, author


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Love Enough for All


2001/2002/2003 2004 by Lori Zecca.  No part of the text can be copied or used without written permission from the author.

An Excerpt . . .

He poured himself another shot, glad the song was over, and grateful that he and Bryn didnt have a song. But just then, an image focused in his memory and he could see them dancing in her family room, their bodies naked, still moist from their lovemaking. How beautifully she moved, her slender body, tanned and fiery, and those beguiling violet eyes, ever so luminous in the twilight. But what was the song they were dancing to? He could almost hear it, but he didn't recognize it. Then, too entranced by Bryn to concentrate on anything else, he remained spellbound by that look in her eye . . . the one that strangles his will to survive. He shoots back another tequila.

That song is gnawing at him now.  He has to know it. He needs to know it, because it makes them move so wonderfully together. He's holding her with one hand wrapped around her bare waist, the other rested gently on her long sultry neck, his palm resting just below the hollow. He studied her glorious face, the way her brows arch so flawlessly over those incredible eyes, long lush lashes sweeping down across high cheekbones when she closes them peacefully, letting him guide her, trusting his every move as she becomes one with the music. What was that song!

Finally, weariness takes over where anxiety had been the mainstay. Images of he and Bryn fill his mind, lying side by side, gazing lovingly at her perfect oval face, tracing the gentle curves of her dainty nose, lusciously full lips, and delicate though determined chin with the tip of his finger. The soothing memories lull him to sleep. The last image he sees is that of her soft sweet smile.


At six forty-five he awakes retching, the tequila had taken root in his belly, and he runs for the powder room. For the next thirty minutes, he pukes his guts up, the bitter umbrage an almost welcomed relief.


Bryn rolled over to look at her alarm clock . . . eleven-fifteen. She was grateful that it was Sunday and the kids were still with Travis. That was about all she was grateful for. The outpour from her emotionally tormenting evening had her head pounding this morning. She immediately pushed away her memories of last night, simply not ready to deal with them again. She left her bed to pee and wash her face, taking notice of her swollen lids and the puffy pockets beneath. With a groan, she went to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, and while she waited, she played the messages that she hadn't reviewed last night.

The first was from Avery, claiming if she were having this child, which the time frame alone seemed to be determining, then she was going to eat and enjoy her plumpness, and did Bryn want to get together for lunch or dinner one night next week. The second was from Devin's guitar teacher, changing their lesson. The third was a hang up and she didn't even want to go there.  The fourth was from Irene Vine the goddess of all mothers who was already calling about car pools long before necessary. Bryn just rolled her eyes. Get a life lady it's still a month away! The fifth was another hang-up, and she just continued her eye roll. The sixth was her mother wondering if Bryn was alive since she hadn't heard from her in so long. Guilt! Thanks, Mom . . . I needed that just about now. The seventh call was from her sister, Kara, just calling to say hi and to warn Bryn, "Mom is on the prowl seeking information as to your whereabouts." Bryn couldn't help but laugh.

And that was it. Her heart sank. She had half hoped Chase would have called. She sighed heavily. Fat chance! She poured herself a mug full of coffee and returned to her bed for the rest of the day.


Monday morning, Chase decided he was not going to have another pitiful day like the one he had the day before. Nursing a horrible hangover, his worst in years, and lying around feeling bitterly depressed was just not his thing. He forced his body from the bed at six-thirty, made an extra strong pot of coffee, and by seven; he was out the door and en route for the five-mile run that would hopefully, revive his purpose.

Chase struggled during the third mile of his trek and decided to change his route, heading toward home. As he came to the corner of Elm and Forest, he recognized her car immediately. At first, his smile grew at the sight of her behind the wheel, a natural response, and while his heart raced automatically, he unconsciously took a step toward her, then he halted abruptly.  Oh, Christ! He had forgotten. Suddenly the most natural desire in the world could no longer be. I forgot - I dont love you any more. "Oh, Bryn . . . " he said out loud, and his heart sank into his stomach. To make matters worse, she had just noticed him and the distress on her face was nearly suffocating. They remained stationary, entranced, she in her BMW at the stop sign, and he catching his breath less than fifty feet from her. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and from her expression, he knew she was suffering as well. Surprisingly, he felt an overwhelming urge to go to her. The sensation was so intense that the physical restraints against his own will was a challenge that left his chest and throat tight with emotion.

Then he saw her tears. There werent many, but enough to indicate how horribly she was feeling, and he wanted to go to her even more, but he just stood there, and they gaped at each other. With a wry smile, she put the car into gear, and slowly moved forward. He wanted to jump in front of the car and stop her.  Do anything to keep her there until he had the courage to . . . to . . . to do what?

Her decision was made, Bryn looked straight ahead determinedly, and sped off down the street. The tightness in his chest made it difficult to breath. He was dizzied by emotion, and felt very weak. He sat down on the curb with his hands supporting each side of his face until he regained his composure. "Please let this pass . . . oh please let this pass . . . it hurts . . . Christ it hurts . . ." he chanted his mantra while rocking to and fro, willing his emotions away. Oh, God, this hurts! How am I going to do this? How am I going to live anywhere near the woman without wanting her? Who are you kidding you would feel the same way if she were a thousand miles from here. "Oh, Bryn!"


Three blocks past Elm, Bryn pulled over, her tears blinding her vision, choking her, shaking her so that she could no longer maintain her poise. Deep heart wrenching sobs racked her body. If only he had taken a few steps toward her . . . just a few, she would have jumped from the car, into his arms, begged for forgiveness, and bestow the courtesy upon him as well. "Oh, Chase, you idiot!" A long wail managed to escape the chokehold on her throat. "I miss you . . . God, help me, but I do."

Weakened by the intensity of her emotion, Bryn turned the car around, taking a different route back home. There was no way she could work today.

Once inside the confines of her bedroom she stripped off her clothing, tossed on a robe, and called in sick to work. And she was sick for all practical purposes.  She was love sick and heartbroken. She lay upon her bed as the tears continued to flow from her effortlessly. How she wished she could go back in time, just a week, to when she was deliriously happy in Chases loving arms. This all seemed wrong so very, very wrong.

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2001/2002/2003/2004 by Lori Zecca