The Wrong Game (Love of the Game, #1)

by Kandi Steiner

“Don’t cry, my sweet gem. It will be okay. We’ll be okay.” He wrapped his arm around me, one hand cradling my head into his chest as the other caressed my back. Those hands had touched another woman, and they were now touching me, and I wanted to pull away just as much as I wanted to stay there forever.

Death has a funny way of putting life into perspective for us.

This is one of the most highlighted quotes in The Wrong Game, and it doesn't surprise me. This was something I've felt many times in my life, how the death of someone we love can truly alter everything that happens after.

And on the day of his funeral, I watched a girl younger and prettier than me mourn him from the back row of our church. She cried the same tears that I did, though I swore her heart was in more pain than mine. Because she had the satisfaction of being the other woman, of being the one he couldn’t live without — so much so that he was willing to risk his marriage, his reputation, his life that he had built. She knew without a doubt that she had been his world, that she had been the last face in his mind before the light was extinguished and he faded off into nothing. I didn’t have that same comfort.

And right there, in that first-row pew, with my dead, cheating husband’s mother’s hand in mine, I made one simple plan, with one simple rule. Never fall in love again. It was more than just a plan, more than just a goal. It was a promise. And it was one I vowed to keep.

I just stared at her, still not convinced. “You have these tickets, right?” she continued. “And you love the Bears.” “Da Bears.” “I’m not saying it like that.” “Say it, or I’m not listening to the rest of this.” Belle rolled her eyes. “Da Bears.” I smiled. “Better.”

I love their friendship so much lol

Now, I only wanted to lean on myself, because I was the only one I could depend on to not let me fall.

My dad once told me that he knew the very first time he met my mom that he would marry her one day. He said they were in sixth grade, walking in a single-file line in opposite directions — she was going back to class, his class was heading to the music room. From across the hall, my mom smiled at him. And right then and there, he knew. I always thought it was crazy. Even the romantic in me found that a little far-fetched. When I was in sixth grade, about the only thing that could hold my attention longer than ten seconds was the Crash Bandicoot video game on my PlayStation. But here I was, less than three hours into my first night with Gemma Mancini, and suddenly, I got it. Not that I wanted to marry the girl — I wasn’t that crazy. At least, not admittedly so. But there was just… something about her. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way she laughed before taking a long sip of her beer, or the way her little nose scrunched up when she disagreed with a call the referee made. I laughed at her stupid jokes, and her stupid rules and lists for her life. I smiled at the respectful way she spoke to the older couple sitting on the other side of her, and at the way her eyes grew wide, cheeks flushing, any time I touched her. Her hair. Her hand. Her leg. No, I didn’t want to go out and buy a ring, but one thing was certain. I wanted more.

Oh, Zach. <3

That was how powerful love was. It could save you, could help you live for the first time, see the world in a new way — but it could also knock you to the ground, the force so blunt you never forget the way it felt to fall. Failed love built walls, but it was our choice whether we decided to hide behind them, or sit on top of them, waiting for someone to come along who could knock them down.

“Hey, you,” Gemma said, sliding her hands around my waist. She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss me, a lazy smile on her face when she pulled back. “I’m a wee bit tipsy.” I laughed. “As you should be, birthday girl.” I wiped a bit of ketchup from the corner of her mouth. “I still can’t believe you like hot dogs with ketchup on them.” “And cheese.” “So disgusting.” “Hey,” she pouted, poking out her lip in a way that made me want to cuddle her and take her to the bedroom all at once. “It’s good, okay? Just because I don’t like stupid Italian sausages or Polish sausages or whatever.” “It’s fine that you like hot dogs, but you could at least like Chicago-style hot dogs. Ketchup isn’t allowed.” “Says the one who wasn’t even born or raised in Chicago,” she pointed out. “Exactly. And even I know the proper way to eat a Chicago dog. I mean, I’m not judging you,” I said, voice fading. “But you’re wrong. Just so you know.” She stuck her tongue out. “You know,” Gemma said after a moment, pointing her finger right at my nose. “You promised me we’d play football today, and it’s almost sunset and you have not fulfilled said promise.” She hiccuped, and her eyes widened, like that damn hiccup had snuck up on her and she had no idea what the hell it was. I laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure you could catch a football right now if you wanted to.” “I could, too,” she argued. “Did you bring one?” “I always have one in my car.” “Well, go get it, then.” And that was all she said to me before she...

A little sneak peek inside this love story I adore so much. <3

Something I learned maybe well before I was supposed to is that trying to be what other people think you should be is a waste of time. Life is too short to be or do or say anything other than exactly what you want. And in the end, no one’s judgment matters, because it’s your life you’re living.” Micah’s shoulders lifted again. “Not theirs.”

Our past has a funny way of becoming part of who we are in the future, and I think that’s the way it’s meant to be. Without the scars, without the pain, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the times when everything is magical — the days when life is absolute bliss. And trust me when I say that every day I’ve spent with you has been just that — magic.”