The Man I Can't Have

by Williams, Shanora

  “Good because if there is, I’ll beat his ass.”

  I giggle. “Yeah, yeah. You’re trying to steer the topic. I asked about you. Tell me about Violetta.”

  I notice his shoulders tense when I say her name, but he relaxes them almost immediately. Avoiding my eyes, he says, “What’s there to tell? She’s my wife. I love her.”

  “Do you really?”

  He meets my eyes, giving me a stern look. “Yes.”

  “So why do you seem so sad when you’re around her?”

  “I don’t,” he mutters.

  “Come on, Ricky. You didn’t bring me out here just for the hell of it. You wanted to talk about something, now spill it.”

  He frowns, looking toward the line of trees. I wait for him to say something. I know he wants to, but I won’t force it out of him. Instead, I pick up my bag up and take out a pear, biting right into it after cleaning it off.

  “She fucked her boss,” Ricky says, and I damn near choke on the skin of my fruit.

  “What?” I gasp.

  “Yeah. She fucked him. Only once, so she claims. She had this part-time gig at a furniture store. I saw the way he looked at her whenever I’d stop by and pick her up for lunch, but I thought nothing of it. One day I had to go back there because she forgot her name tag in the passenger seat and didn’t realize it. I went inside and saw them through his office window. He had her on top of his desk, touching her everywhere.” He pops a slice of orange in his mouth, chewing.

  “Oh my God, Ricky. I’m so sorry!”

  “Don’t be.”

  “Well, I am. That’s fucked up of her! How do you know it was only one time?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but she apologized—plus we were having a rough patch. We’d split up, and she was staying with her mom for about a month, but I still took her to work because she needed rides.” He huffs. “I let it go. She told me I could have a pass, fuck anyone I wanted to. I told her no. I’m not that kind of person.”

  It’s quiet a beat. He’s so hurt; I see it deep in his eyes. God, is this how Kyle would look if he found out about Marcel? The last thing I want is to see him upset, especially over something I did.

  “Anyway, I told her if it happened again with anyone, I would divorce her. She quit the job the next day, so she stays at home now.” He looks up at me warily.

  “What?”

  “Does it sound crazy that I can track her by her phone now?” he asks.

  “You can?”

  “Yeah, there’s an app out. Lets me know where someone has been for the whole day. I don’t trust her, so I check it once a day.”

  “So why stay with her if you don’t trust her? Tracking someone seems too time consuming.”

  Ricky gives me a cold stare. “The same reason you stick with Kyle, even though he clearly doesn’t make you happy. The same reason Ma sticks with Dad.”

  I frown at his statement about me and Kyle, but I can’t argue when it comes to my parents. My dad cheated on my mom—only once. My mom forgave him eventually, but I think it’s only because she actually needed him. To this day, she still needs him. He’s the reason she can stay in the U.S. He’d petitioned for her to become a permanent resident. Fortunately, she’s in the final stages and will test for citizenship soon.

  They’d split up for two days after what he did. I remember because Momma didn’t come home for those two days. She said she was going to spend time with Aunt Carolina.

  I recall them arguing and Dad telling her he was drunk. It hurt my mom, but not as much as it should have. She didn’t fully love him, and he felt it…I think that’s why he sought comfort elsewhere—to see if what he felt for my mom, he could feel in someone else.

  I’m assuming he didn’t, so he came out and told her the mistake he’d made. This was before they truly fell for each other. Ricky and I were young, and they were on shaky grounds as it was. Still, it’s no excuse for what he did. I can’t help thinking now that maybe I cheated because my parents made it seem like that sort of thing happening was nothing in comparison to their love…

  “Anyway, I haven’t forgotten it one bit. But I love her, so I stay,” Ricky goes on.

  “But how can you trust that she won’t do it again?”

  “I can’t trust it,” he says, very blatantly. “But pretending I can trust her is way cheaper than getting a divorce.”

  “God, Ricky. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs it off, eating another piece of orange. I bite into my pear again, looking down at my boots. “If I tell you something, you promise not to judge me?”

  “Why would I?” I know he never would. Ricky is good at keeping secrets.

  “Because it’s kind of fucked up. You have to promise not to say anything to Mamá or Dad.”

  “I won’t, Gabby. You know this. I haven’t even told them what Violetta did.”

  My brows dip. “I’m the first to know?”

  “Yep. I know you’ll keep it to yourself, plus Ma already gives me enough shit about being with her. If I tell her that, she’ll never shut up about it.”

  “Well, I will keep it to myself.” I draw in a breath, then sigh through parted lips. I can’t just flat out say what I have to say, so I pick at some of the skin on the pear. Ricky is waiting, but not pressuring me to speak. We’re both quiet for a while as Bruno Mars sings about grenades. “I…cheated on Kyle,” I finally mumble.

  I glance up, and his eyes are rounder. Bigger. “What?”

  “It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “With who?” he demands, frowning. He’s already judging me.

  “My landscape designer.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “I know.” I drop my head.

  “How the hell did that even happen? Kyle is like a fucking hawk. He’d have seen it coming from a mile away.” Ricky is flabbergasted. I’m not surprised. Anyone would think I’d be the last person to cheat.

  “Well he works out of town a lot now, so I’m home alone most of the time. My landscape designer was at the house almost every day to work on the yard, checking in with me. He was nice and we connected…but then things got carried away.” I drop my head, trying not to look at him. “I hate myself for it, but I can’t seem to shake that guy for some reason. It wasn’t just a sexual connection with him. It was deeper than that.”

  Ricky is quiet a moment. I can tell he’s staring at me. “Well, don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  I look up with a frown. “How can you say that?”

  “Because I know Kyle…and I know you. You wouldn’t have done it unless you had a valid reason.”

  “No, that’s wrong. Even if I had a valid reason to do it—which there never is in these cases—it’s wrong, Ricky. I’m married to Kyle—I made a vow to him. Don’t you see that?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe he had it coming.”

  I sigh. “You don’t think it’s fucked up?”

  “Oh, it’s very fucked up of you, but I’d choose my sister over that motherfucker—or any motherfucker—any day.”

  I want to smile. I appreciate the comment, but now isn’t the time to be happy about any of this.

  I could bring up an excuse—like how I saw Kyle with his assistant Joanna when I visited him at his job once. She was in his office and way too close to him. They didn’t hear me enter, but I heard him say the words, “Nothing changes” to her while he caressed her shoulder. Or maybe he just placed a caring hand there, and I allowed my crazy mind to blow it out proportion.

  It was right before we got married, so of course I had reason to be suspicious. Joanna is a beautiful brunette who’d clearly gotten a boob job. She was never rude to me, but she did stare at me often whenever Kyle would have gatherings or social events, which always made things awkward.

  But those words, they gnawed at me constantly. That day in his office, they both moved away from each other like a fire had broken out between them when they saw me, then Kyle looked at me and put on one of his charming smiles. I didn’t fall for
it. Joanna scurried out of his office, greeting me warily along the way, and then sat at her desk outside the door.

  I asked him what that was all about, and he told me that she was having a bad day and had heard he was moving in a few months. She thought she was going to be out of a job, so he was comforting her. He swore it wasn’t what I thought it was, but ever since that altercation, my trust for him became thinner. Not that I’ve ever caught him doing anything suspicious other than that. I checked his phone once, when the questions had gotten the best of me, and didn’t find anything, so I was relieved. I felt gross for checking his phone, but I had to ease my mind, and ever since then I don’t check it anymore.

  Even so, I have no excuse. What I did with Marcel was wrong, plain and simple.

  “Life is fucked up.” Ricky leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “Marriages are hard, but we go into them thinking everything will be easy and all will be solved.” His head shakes. “Marriage is a full-time job—one none of us will ever get paid for.”

  “We get paid with joy,” I say hopefully, like that’s going to settle the debate.

  He scoffs. “There is no joy, Gabby.” He looks me in the eyes. “Makes me wonder why I still bother sometimes—or why I even asked her to marry me in the first place.”

  I know the real reason why he asked Violetta—to move on from Christina—but I don’t say that. Instead I say, “Because divorce is actually something you do have to pay for.” I place my hand on top of his. “Everything will be okay, Ricky. But if you truly, truly aren’t happy with her, then do what’s right. Don’t waste anymore of your time if she doesn’t set your soul on fire.”

  “I suggest you take your own advice then.”

  I sit back, pulling my hand away.

  “Don’t waste time on someone who doesn’t set your soul on fire, Gabby. You’re young and beautiful. I always thought it was too soon for you to marry him, but didn’t want to say the wrong thing to hurt you.”

  “I always figured you thought that. Even I think we got married too soon, but Dad encouraged it and of course Ma agreed, because all she’s ever wanted is for me to get married and be taken care of.”

  Ricky straightens his back. “Let me ask you something.”

  “What?”

  “You said it wasn’t just sexual—your affair. That it was deeper. Does that mean you still think about him? Still want him?”

  My heart catches speed at the mere thought of Marcel. Sheepishly, I say, “Everyday, Ricky.” And that’s my response to both questions.

  “Damn. That’s tough.” He shakes his head. “You’ll figure it out though, I’m sure.” He digs out a bottle of water from his bag, but before he bothers opening it, he’s studying me carefully. “You know I’m always here for you, right? No matter what?”

  I smile, but my eyes are burning with emotion. I have no idea if I’ll ever be able to figure it out. I feel stuck, and I hate this feeling.

  But I blink the fire in my eyes away and say, “I’m here for you too, Ricky. Always.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Gabby

  Kyle and I are back home by eleven that night. We’re beat, but I’m so happy to see my Callie when I jog across the street to get her from Meredith.

  “Was she good?” I ask, holding her in my arms. She tries to climb higher on me, and I laugh as she tries to lick my face.

  “Oh, she was a doll! So freaking precious! I was hoping you wouldn’t come back so I could have a reason to keep her!”

  I laugh. “I would never abandon this adorable little face!” I hold Callie up, and she licks at the tip of my nose. “Thank you for watching her. I’ll make it up to you with brunch or lunch soon!”

  “Don’t even worry about it, honey. It was my pleasure.” Meredith waves me goodbye as I walk across the street, Callie tucked under one arm and her supplies and dog bed under the other. I barely make it to the door, so I place her down and adjust the items. Before I walk up the stoop, though, I hear Kyle’s voice. I frown, looking toward the backyard. The light is on.

  I place Callie’s stuff down and walk across the front lawn to get there. There’s a short path that leads to our backyard. The path is surrounded by bushes, which would make it hard for us to see if anyone was coming through the path if we are in the back.

  I don’t show myself as I watch Kyle standing by the wet bar, a hand planted on his hip, his phone to his ear.

  “I don’t give a shit about any of that! You told me this would work out!” he hisses into the phone. “No. That’s not what we agreed. You got what you wanted, and I’ve been working my ass off to make up for that investment. You’re lucky I can’t abandon you, or I would have done it a long time ago. Fix this immediately, Will. Do you understand?”

  Will? My frown grows deeper. Callie is at my side, panting, looking up at me curiously. She’s probably trying to figure out why the hell I’m spying on my husband.

  “You told me about meeting there, and I made a way there every week. You dug yourself out of that one, but this is different. If it hadn’t been for that—” he sighs, exasperated. What in the hell is he talking about?

  “Let’s just drop it. I want this fixed ASAP.” He ends the call and as soon as he does, Callie barks.

  “No!” I whisper hiss, but it’s too late. Callie is dashing through the backyard, going straight for Kyle. She’s trying to climb his leg and he’s looking down at her, clearly confused as to where she came from.

  I move away from the bush and walk down the path, acting like I’ve just gotten back. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”

  “Oh—uh, phone call.” He holds his iPhone in the air, but doesn’t smile.

  “She’s happy to see you,” I note, pointing at Callie, who is still feigning for Kyle’s attention. But he doesn’t provide it. He looks down at her again and then moves his foot. Callie plops down on her paws as he walks to the door.

  “I need to check a few emails. Will you be okay?”

  I look him over once before nodding. He’s distressed, eyes cloudy. What the hell is going on with him? “I’ll be fine. Go ahead.”

  He leaves without a word, and I sigh as Callie dashes back to me. I pick her up and take her inside, going to the porch to grab her things and then giving her a fresh bowl of water. She laps it up, and I lean on the counter with my elbow, a fist propping my head up as I watch her.

  I always wonder why Kyle isn’t affectionate toward Callie. She’s such a sweet dog, and so innocent. Everyone who crosses her path loves her, yet he barely tolerates her. I understand he’s not much of a dog-owning person, but he flat-out ignores Callie half the time.

  But Marcel on the other hand…

  Shit. Speaking of, he emailed me back, but I was boarding the flight home and didn’t want to check with Kyle over my shoulder. I walk upstairs, my puppy trailing behind me, and head to my studio. I shut the door to be safe, and then sit at the chair behind my desk, opening the laptop.

  It’s funny that we email, considering we have each other’s numbers. Emailing feels much more…exciting…even if it’s wrong.

  I find his email at the top and read it.

  Gabby,

  You’re out of your damn mind if you think I can pretend what we did never happened, but don’t worry. I’m not the kind of man who would boast about it. What we did was our moment, and I’ll be damned if I share the details of it with anyone else. What can I say? I’m a selfish man, and it was mine.

  The housewarming I’ll have to give some thought on. Not sure I’ll be able to handle being around you and the man who’s in my way all night. Don’t be upset if I can’t make it. Consider it a good thing. It’ll save you from the freak outs.

  Marcel Ward,

  CEO of Ward Landscaping & Design

  I sigh, slouching back in my chair. I’m worked up. Why do his words always slay me? I can pretty much hear his voice with every word, that sultry, sexy, Southern timbre that makes me fuzzy all over.

  Knowing Marcel, he
won’t show for the housewarming. He has too much pride to stand in a corner and watch me. Not only that, but he’s right. It would be safer if he doesn’t come at all—that way I don’t have to pretend or hide my feelings for him, and he doesn’t have to act like I’m just the client.

  If there is just Kyle, then it’ll be much easier to play wife, but what I can’t do is play wife and act like the man standing across the room is a complete stranger to me. At this point, doing that with Marcel is pretty much impossible.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Marcel

  I have no idea what the hell I’m doing here.

  I’m seated behind the wheel of my truck, parked along the curb, looking right at the driveway of Gabby’s house.

  I’m clearly insane.

  My windows are rolled down, and I hear people talking as they get out of their cars, going down the driveway to get to her front door.

  I shouldn’t have come here…but not coming would have made me look like a coward. She only extended the invite because her husband asked, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that if she really didn’t want me to show up, she never would have mentioned it in the first place, no matter how insistent her husband was about it.

  I watch a woman in pink heels get out of an SUV. “Hurry up, honey! We’re already late!” She’s scurrying toward the driveway, hollering, “Oh my God! Would you look at this place? This house is beautiful!”

  A tall man gets out the driver’s side, rolling his shoulders back after shutting the door behind him. “Slow the hell down before you fall on your face in those damn heels, Mariana!” They disappear, voices still carrying.

  I sigh, sitting back against the warm leather. I need to get my ass in there already. I’ll stay for a short while, show my face, then leave. Can’t hurt anyone, can it?

  “Fuck it.” I roll my windows up, then push out of the car, grabbing the brown paper bag that’s covering a bottle of liquor. I make my way toward her driveway as the sound of music carries through the streets.