The Man I Can't Have

by Williams, Shanora

  I can’t believe Kyle sent an email like that. I almost don’t want to believe it, but why would Marcel, a man I hardly even know, lie about something like that? I look over my shoulder, toward the staircase. It’s not like me to check Kyle’s things, but I have to this time. I need to know the truth.

  I hop off the couch and rush up the stairs, going to his office. I log into his computer with the same password he always uses, KMan3322, and go to the little mailbox on the screen.

  I scroll through his sent box but don’t see anything, so I automatically assume Marcel is lying…but then I see that his trash inbox is full. I click on it, and sure enough, there are a string of emails between Kyle and Ward Landscaping & Design.

  Hello Mr. Ward,

  This is Kyle Moore. I’m emailing you in regard to my backyard, which you are currently working on.

  I assume you won’t read this email until you are in the comfort of your own home, which I prefer so that we don’t cause a scene with my wife around. I just want to let you know that what I’m seeing in my yard is not how I would have liked it carried out. I love my wife, but sometimes she’s not so great when it comes to choosing companies to carry out big projects such as these.

  I looked through your website thoroughly and even tried to find you on Facebook, but I don’t see you anywhere. Frankly, I am not comfortable with your crew working on my yard and would like to find someone else to finish the job.

  It would be best if you don’t show up Monday morning, for mine and my wife’s sake.

  Regards,

  Kyle Moore

  I release a tattered breath and scroll down to the next email.

  Mr. Moore,

  I’m glad I waited to read this email when I got home because it is quite shocking, though it would have been better to talk about this in person, don’t you think? But you’re a busy man, I get it.

  Seeing as your wife, who is perfectly capable of making her own choices, signed a contract to have the yard finished, I’m afraid I’ll have to ignore your request and continue with the project. I don’t believe in breaking contracts, nor do I think your wife made a poor choice. What you’re seeing in your yard is just the ground work, but I assure you when it’s done, you will be satisfied with it.

  I suggest you have a little talk with your wife if there are truly any concerns. Otherwise, I’ll see you Monday.

  Best,

  Marcel Ward

  CEO of Ward Landscaping & Design

  Mr. Ward,

  There is no need to chat with my wife when I am the owner of the house, and if I don’t want your company in my backyard, I suggest you take yourself and your crew elsewhere. Please don’t let me take this to court.

  Kyle Moore

  Court? Now, that’s a funny one, seeing as I’m not doing anything but my job and keeping my word with the contract. Like I said, have that talk with your wife. Maybe it’ll do you some good. Communication is key after all.

  Marcel Ward

  CEO of Ward Landscaping & Design

  Do not tell me what to do with my wife. Cancel the damn work. Break the contract if you have to. I’ll pay for whatever fees come in the way.

  Kyle Moore

  Mr. Moore

  Look, I’m saying this in the most respectful way I possibly can. May not make me a professional, but for my own personal gain, I’m just going to tell you right now to talk to your wife and to kindly fuck off.

  If your wife ends up taking your side and wants to break contract, well I guess I’ll see you both in court then, huh?

  Marcel Ward

  CEO of Ward Landscaping & Design

  “Oh my gosh.” I place a hand over my mouth, reading the emails all over again. I thought Marcel was kidding about telling him to fuck off. Why didn’t Kyle tell me about this?

  I dig into my back pocket and pull my iPhone out. My finger hovers over Kyle’s name. I’m desperate to call him and figure out what’s going on, but a tug in my chest stops me.

  I know if I call him, this will change things for us. Our trust will break or bend, and I can’t have that. Not after just moving into our own place and living our new life. If Kyle didn’t say anything, it’s because he knew telling me would hurt me.

  I place my phone on the desk, then rake my fingers through my hair. The only thing I can think about is Kyle’s betrayal. Why marry me if he feels I’m not smart enough to make my own decisions?

  What kind of husband does shit like this?

  SEVENTEEN

  Marcel

  I shouldn’t have told her. She’s a nice girl, and despite how badly her words stung me earlier, I still knew I couldn't tell her, but seeing the shocked look on her face as I got riled up about her husband only told me one thing: she thought I was crazy.

  She assumed I had no reason to dislike her husband, but after the emails he sent me, I have every reason not to like him. The guy is a fucking dick, through and through. The way he spoke about Gabby blew my mind. Does he think she’s some dumb trophy wife? Because trust me, I’ve seen the bimbos, and she isn’t one of them.

  I knew I shouldn’t have come back for Rob’s phone. I wanted to leave what happened in the dust, go back to square one when it was just business, but then shit got heated in the yard. I have no idea how she can bring so much out of me. It blows my mind.

  I’m back at home, sitting on my recliner, watching a baseball game. My legs are spread apart, my arms resting on the arms of the chair as sucking noises surround me.

  “Oh, fuck.” I close my eyes, tossing my head back as full lips seal around the base of my dick. Her tongue moves over my shaft and then caresses my balls. “Shit, that feels good.”

  She brings her mouth back up to wrap it around the head of my cock. I look down at her wet lips around me. I’m so goddamn hard in Lucy’s mouth, wishing this was someone else’s.

  Gabby’s chest brushed across mine earlier. I could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra. She was so damn close, and after watching the hurt in her eyes, all I wanted to do was hold her face and steal a kiss—let her know there are better men out there than her husband. But who am I to do that? She’s made her choice. Now she’s stuck with the asshole.

  “I had a shitty day at work,” I mumble.

  “Yeah?” Lucy pauses, but pumps my cock up and down in one hand. “Tell me about it.”

  “My client is…she’s confusing the hell out of me.”

  “How?” She keeps pumping.

  “I don’t know. She’s a good girl. Smart. Nice. Young. I can tell she does a lot of stuff from the heart, but her husband is an asshole, and I wish she could…see it.” I stiffen in my chair as she jacks me off faster.

  “So, you like her?” Lucy asks, her voice still steady, seductive.

  “I don’t know what the hell it is. It almost feels like I need to protect her or something like that.” I clench my fists, closing my eyes. “She deserves better.”

  “How do you know? Maybe she feels that’s what she needs.” Lucy’s mouth seals around my cock, and this time she swallows me down inch by inch.

  “Oh, shit.” I can’t hold back any longer. She gags around my dick, and I bring a hand down to the back of her head, thrusting upwards and shooting my cum down her throat. “Oh, fuck, Luce. Fuck.”

  She gags once more before moaning. When I know she’s swallowed it all, I relax my grip and she leans back, glancing down at my sated cock before meeting my eyes. “That was a lot of cum,” she says, smirking as she wipes the corners of her mouth with the pad of her manicured thumb.

  I grunt in response, shoving my dick back in my pants. Lucy gets up to grab her water bottle from the table and then sits on the love seat that’s next to my recliner, taking a large gulp from it.

  “You’ve always been complicated, Marcel. Ever since the day I met you. You know that?” She sips her water.

  I look her over in her leather skirt and suede crop top. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “I mean…you always seem to enjoy bein
g around people you know you shouldn’t have. Take me, for example. I work for a company where I’m paid to suck your cock or fuck you. You know you can’t have me, probably feel like a fuck with me is an illicit one, and that excites you.”

  “Not true,” I mumble, getting out of my chair and walking to the fridge. I pull out a beer, crack it open with the bottle opener, and take a deep chug.

  “It’s so true!” she laughs. “You want your life to be this complicated mess because it’s a form of distraction for you. You’re runnin’ away from somethin’. I can see it. I feel it.”

  All right. She’s going a little too far with this. I sit back in my chair, focused on the TV. “You can leave now.”

  She’s quiet a beat, then she sighs and stands up, pulling her skirt down and grabbing her purse. She stops in front of me, blocking the TV.

  “Luce, move,” I demand, but she doesn’t budge. I swing my gaze up.

  “Marcel, whatever you do, don’t ruin that poor girl’s life.”

  “What the hell are you talkin’ about? How can I possibly ruin her life? Shit’s already ruined by being with him. What other damage can be done?”

  She laughs softly. “You’re charmin’ and irresistible when you want to be, Marcel. You play this role of tough guy, but deep down you’re a big softy. Fortunately, this information will always stay between you and me—terms of our agreement and all.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I expect her to move, but she stands in place, still in front of the TV. I look up at her eyes again, but they’re glossy this time. They’re also sad, but strangely a smile lingers on her lips. “Before I go, I just want to let you know this will be my last night doin’ this with you.”

  I sit up higher in my chair. “What? Why?”

  She bends down in front of me, holding my hands. “I got engaged last weekend. He’s a great guy. Sweet. He knows about what I do for a livin’, but he wants me out now that we’re makin’ it official, and honestly, I don’t blame him. He promises he’s going to take care of me.”

  “Shit, Luce. I didn’t even know you were seein’ someone. That’s fuckin’ weird that you’re out here suckin’ my cock but have a man waitin’ at home, isn’t it?”

  “No. He’s older. Much, much older,” she sighs. “He likes to watch me do stuff with other people sometimes.”

  “Fuckin’ perv.”

  She laughs, and a tear skids down her cheek.

  “Well you seem glad about this. What are you cryin’ for?”

  “Because…you’ve been the best client I’ve had. Not only that, but I bonded with you when I wasn’t supposed to. I should have ended it the moment I felt like I was gettin’ in too deep, but…I couldn’t. You needed someone. I needed someone.”

  “Damn, Luce, don’t tell me you fell for me,” I tease, and she sputters another laugh.

  “No. I just understand you. That’s all. Unlike the others, you treat me like a human. Remember the first night we did this? When you ordered food and even offered me a beer? I know it’s my job to be confident and all, but no one has ever made me feel so at ease. I will never forget that.”

  “Hmm.” Yeah, I remember that night all too well. The first night a hired escort arrived at my house, I had no idea what to do. I knew exactly what she looked like. The headshot they had of her was gorgeous, and I didn’t want her to think I was some brute, so I ordered food and bought some beer to break the ice.

  I’m glad I did, because when she showed up, there was a bruise around her wrist. I finally got her to tell me where it came from and she said one of the last guys ended up grabbing her too roughly when she told him his time was up.

  I knew hiring an escort was wrong, and swore I would only do it once, but Lucy is different. She’s good at what she does, yes, but she’s also great company. We’re good friends…even if our arrangement is a little strange.

  She releases my hands to wipe the tears from her face, then she stands up straight, holding her arms out. “Well, don’t just sit there! Give me a hug before I go!”

  I stand, wrapping her up in my arms. “I’ll miss those lips around my cock.”

  “Always the jokester. It’s okay to show a little emotion, you know,” she laughs again, but the emotion is thick in her voice. Pulling away, she smiles up at me, then she turns, tucking her hair behind her ears and opening the door. “Bye, Marcel,” she sniffles.

  “Bye, Luce.”

  The door shuts, and I sit back down in my seat, releasing a breath and staring absently at the TV screen, sipping the rest of my beer.

  The thing is, Lucy and I do share a bond. It’s hard to fully explain, but I’ve never wanted her as anything more than a woman who can give me as many blowjobs as I want, for fifteen-hundred bucks a week.

  She is right about one thing, though. I do want things I know I can’t have.

  I know that deep down, I want to fuck the shit out of Gabby, just to prove to her that I’m a much better man than her husband, but she’s such a good girl that I know she’d never even consider it, and knowing it pisses me off.

  Is that selfish of me? Yes, but I can’t deny it anymore, no matter how hard I try. I also can’t act on it. What Lucy said sticks with me—the part about not ruining her life. I’m like a virus—a deadly one. Everyone around me always seems to either disappear or die, and I’d hate for any of those things to happen to Gabby.

  I shut the TV off and go to my room. It’s late, and I’m tired, so I take a quick shower and climb into bed.

  I wish it were easy for me to fall asleep, but it isn’t, because the worst part about Lucy leaving for good is that, just like Momma and Shay, I’ll never see her again.

  I’m still waiting for the day my losses make me numb, but this is not the day.

  EIGHTEEN

  Gabby

  The crew pulls into my driveway around seven in the morning, taking their tools out. An hour passes, and there isn’t a single sign of Marcel.

  I head downstairs and pop my head out the door, looking at Rob and Alex, who are reading over a sheet of paper. Rob is the guy I saw in Meredith’s yard the day I met her—the one with the black beard and hair. Something tells me he’s a big teddy bear.

  “Hey, guys!” I call, and they both look up at me. “Where’s Marcel?”

  “Oh, I don’t think he’s coming here to work today,” Rob says. “He said he has work to do at the office.”

  “Oh.” I sigh, somewhat disappointed. “Okay, then. Well, let me know if you guys need anything.”

  “Will do,” Rob says. “By the way, I found my ring! Thanks for letting the boss look for my phone last night. Really appreciate it.”

  “Oh, no problem!” I smile at him, but it disappears rapidly as I turn for the door.

  I close it behind me and brew a fresh cup of coffee. A part of me thinks Marcel is avoiding me after what he told me about Kyle, but another part of me thinks maybe he does have work to do at his office. He is the owner, after all.

  I assume that is the case, until he doesn’t show the next day either. I don’t even waste my breath or time going outside to ask what’s up. I let his men work in peace while I do some yoga in my living room. It’s hard to truly relax, though, when something is bugging you.

  For one, I have my backstabbing husband, who apparently thinks I’m an idiot, and then there’s my landscape architect, who has probably lost all respect for me and never wants to see my or my husband’s face again. Can I blame him for not wanting to come around? We’ve made his life a living hell, when all he wanted to do was work and give us something great.

  I give up on my usual breathing technique and roll my yoga mat back up, tossing it in the closet. I head upstairs to shower and then go to my studio, reading a few emails on my laptop.

  The hopeless part of me wishes Marcel’s name would pop up in one of the unopened emails, but it doesn’t. As I read over one from a student, my phone dances on the desk, buzzing loudly. Kyle.

  “Ugh.” I was hoping he would
n’t call today, seeing as he didn’t call yesterday. He sent me a text yesterday, though, and mentioned he was working out kinks with one of his clients, which meant he wouldn’t have much time to call.

  But he’s my husband, and even though I’m annoyed with him, I still answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe. What are you doing?”

  “Checking a few emails.”

  “Oh. Anything good?”

  Not in my inbox, but in yours? Yeah, there’s a lot of juicy shit. “No, just some questions from some students.” I sit back in the rolling chair and spin around to look out of the window.

  “Well, I wanted to call to let you know that Mr. Tran wants me to fly to Seattle to see him Friday. I told him I would. He’s interested in working with our company, and we could use him right now.”

  “What?” I sit up again, frowning. “So when will you be coming back home?”

  “I don’t know. He wants to golf, have dinner. Maybe Sunday night?” I can tell he’s doing that wincing thing he always does when he knows I’m disappointed and am about to serve him some backlash.

  But I have no backlash for him. I’m still upset and seeing him tomorrow wouldn’t be pretty. He needs more time away and I need more time to figure out how to talk to him about what I discovered without blowing up on him. “Well if it’s important to you, go for it. I’ll be fine here.”

  He sighs, relieved. “Are you sure? I can fly you out there with me. Maybe we can make a weekend of it?”

  “No. It’s fine. Besides, the backyard is still being worked on. One of us has to be around while they fix it, right?”

  He’s quiet, and my hands start to shake. It’s a brief silence but I notice his hesitation. “They’ll be working on it over the weekend?”