The Man I Can't Have (Ward #1) (Ward Duet)

by Shanora Williams

  I met Kyle in a café I used to work at, Nuni’s. I was a waitress there, sporting a red apron with a smiley-faced toast logo on it, and he was a handsome businessman who visited every week, sitting at the same table to order the same meal: pulled rotisserie chicken sandwich, sliced bananas, a pickle, and a green smoothie. I always thought it was a strange meal and had even teased him a little about it during his visits. He told me not to judge it until I tried it. We joked about it so much that he finally asked me to join him after my shift to try the meal for myself. He said he had meetings, but was willing to postpone them and wait for me. I did, and I admit, it wasn’t bad, even if I wasn’t a fan of pickles.

  We laughed, he flirted, and I blushed. We exchanged numbers that very night, and he sent me a text every single morning and visited the restaurant for lunch several times a week. From that moment on, Kyle and I became inseparable.

  Now, it’s move-in day. Kyle had his own loft apartment in New York, where I had stayed with him after graduating, but I wanted to move somewhere sunny and warm after we got married. He promised we would find a home I loved before the big day, and the next thing I knew, he was handing me a silver key and informing me that we now owned a house in Hilton Head Island.

  My parents live in Fredericksburg, Virginia. I grew up in that city, accustomed to cooler weather, ponchos, boots, and damp hair whenever a random shower of rain or snow happened. Weather was too unpredictable there. When I was old enough to think about a life for myself, I knew I had to get away from that state and experience something more—some place bigger. I went to college in New York, the state where I met Kyle. Not that the weather was any better there.

  I carry a box into my new art studio, dropping it in the far right corner. A few of the paint brushes jostle around in the box, the wood rubbing together, the sound music to my ears.

  Taking a step back, I look out of the floor-to-ceiling window ahead of me. The window is intricately designed, with crown molding that gives a braided effect. It brings the room to life. I put my focus on the large backyard. It’s lovely, but it could use a little more. Some chairs, a table—even some large stones to give it life. Hell, maybe even a hot tub could work for those cooler nights. Not too far off is a stunning view of tan sand and dark, turquoise waves.

  When Kyle presented this room to me, I just about died. It’s bigger than any room I’ve ever had of my own. The ceilings are tall, with thick, brown beams running through them. The walls aren’t painted—they’re an eggshell-white, but I’ll have fun painting them myself one day. The floors are made of hard, dark wood, which is perfect because I tend to get very messy when I work. An elegant ivory fan spins in between the beams above my head, cooling the beads of sweat that have collected on my temples and on the back of my neck due to Hilton Head’s relentless humidity.

  “Here we go. The last box for this room.” Kyle walks in, placing the box that’s in his hands on the middle of the floor with a soft grunt. He then walks my way, dropping both hands on his hips and letting out a deep sigh. “You sure you like it in here?”

  “Babe, are you kidding?” I turn to face him, grinning like a goof. “I love it! Seriously. I love it so much.”

  “Good.” He smiles, facing me, too. His hands go to my waist, and he brings me closer. “I just want you to be happy here.”

  “I will be.”

  His smile grows wider. “A few of the neighbors are already asking about us. One of them stopped by to greet me when you walked inside.”

  “Oh, Lord. Don’t tell me they’re the nosy kind,” I groan.

  “They might be.” He winces playfully. “But don’t worry. When I bought this house, I made sure we had plenty of trees and a long driveway so people couldn’t see the front of our home. My wife and I will need all the privacy we can get.” He plants a kiss on my lips. “I want to fuck you all over this house. Break it in properly,” he murmurs on my mouth, and I curl my fingers into his shirt.

  “Then do it,” I challenge.

  “I will…” He kisses me again. “Right after we get the last of these boxes.”

  With one more kiss, he pulls away, and I lift my hands in the air, groaning before letting them drop to my sides. “Remind me again why we didn’t hire movers?”

  “Because, as newlyweds, we have to experience it all, Gabs! This is our first house together. We’ll feel much more accomplished doing it ourselves.”

  “Yeah, gotta tell you, Kyle…I’m not feeling so accomplished at the moment. Bringing the boxes in is one thing, but unpacking them is a whole different ball game.”

  He laughs on his way down the stairs.

  We get the rest of the boxes from the U-Haul we took turns driving, and for the rest of the day, we unpack what we can until our bodies grow weary.

  We decide to eat a delivered dinner on the only available space we have—our sofa—and chat about Kyle going back to work next week and me starting a live online seminar for young art students. I’m getting paid $15 per student for the session, and so far I have twelve students attending. Not too bad for my first online class.

  “I’m nervous about it,” I admit, tossing my plastic fork in the brown paper bag. “What if I don’t make any sense? Or they secretly hate my artwork?”

  “I highly doubt that, babe. You’re extremely talented. My dad bought that painting from you, remember? He loved it.”

  “That’s ’cause he’s your dad, Kyle,” I laugh. “Of course he’s going to support me, even if deep down he may hate it.”

  “He has it hanging in his house—the house he lives in and takes pride in. I’m certain he at least favors it, if it’s hanging where he has to look at it every day.”

  “Right. Oh—well, speaking of this whole house thing, what do you think of doing a housewarming or something? Maybe we can cater some food, some wine, everyone bring a little gift.” I look around. “We could use a broom and mop, now that I think about it.”

  “Very true,” he agrees. He looks around as well, sighing. “When, though? You know I’ll be out of town a lot, catching up.”

  “Maybe in a few weeks? When we get everything settled? Maybe we can even have the backyard fixed up—add a hot tub, some flowers. All that stuff?”

  “And you think all of that will be done in decent time? You’d have to find a landscaping business and everything. That stuff takes a while.”

  “I know. I’ll work on it.”

  He sighs. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe I’ll hire a maid to help me around the house, too.” I wink at him, and he presses his lips, giving me a yeah, right look. “Come on. What do you say? It’ll be great for us—the housewarming, that is.”

  His mouth twitches before a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Okay, sure. We can do it. I’ll do whatever makes you happy. Find out how much landscaping the yard will be. Ask around, do some research.”

  “I will. Thank you, my love.” I kiss his cheek before grabbing our empty plastic plates and then standing. “I’ll clean up. I’m sure you’re tired, so go shower and rest. I’m going to unpack some more boxes and meet you up there.”

  “All right. I’ve gotta make a quick call too.” Kyle kisses my cheek in return and then heads for the stairs, but not without giving me a charming wink over his shoulder. As he walks up, I go to the kitchen, tossing the empty plates in a trash bag we have hanging from a doorknob and putting the leftover food in the fridge with a smile.

  I unpack more of the dishes in the kitchen, but I can’t help taking small glances around. I never thought that by twenty-five I would be married, yet here I am. To most people, I have a normal life. I was just married, and I’ve moved into my dream home…but like I’d mentioned before, something feels like it’s missing.

  This is something I would never confess to Kyle, but in spite of all the good in my life, I yearn for something that will make me burn, in a good way. I have no idea what it is…but there has to be something out there like it. Maybe I need to travel more, break out of my own shell�
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  Don’t get me wrong—Kyle has many moments when he sets my mind and body on fire. When he isn’t tired, he is incredible in bed. But he works so much that he’s often exhausted, and it also doesn’t give us much time to just be with each other. When we first started dating, he was an animal, but with time—especially when he took over his father’s company due to his father’s mild heart attack—he became more predictable. Just a quick roll over, a few heavy moans, and it was finished. I didn’t mind it so much. I knew what we had was much deeper than just sex.

  Maybe it’s the move and all the changes? I’m over five hundred miles away from my parents and my best friend, Teagan. At least when I was staying in New York with him, I could drive to see them. They’re a quick call away, yes, but everything changes when you can’t drop everything and visit like before. I miss them like crazy, but I suppose when you’re married and want a good, stable life, this is the way things have to be.

  With Kyle, I don’t have to work too much or worry about the bills being paid. He allows me to just live after working my ass off for years straight, so I need to do just that.

  I unpack the box I’m working on and then go upstairs. I take a quick shower, change into pajamas, and then climb into bed with my husband. I curl up beside him and he stretches his arm out, welcoming me in with a tired groan. I smile, warmth coursing through me. I’m safe here with him. I have nothing to worry about.

  This is my life now, being here with Kyle, and I’m going make the best of it.

  TWO

  GABBY

  CLEARING out boxes became a habit for Kyle and me for the next four days.

  Most of the items inside the boxes had been placed in their designated rooms or spots. It helped that we didn’t have much stuff to begin with. We agreed to start fresh, minus Kyle’s living room furniture, kitchen table, and his bed that’s still in good shape, considering he’d hardly slept in it until we started dating.

  When Tuesday arrives, our personal cars have been delivered, courtesy of a service Kyle hired before we moved, and Kyle is standing by the door with the handle of his suitcase in hand.

  You’d think I’d be used to him coming and going, but I’m not, especially now that he will be so far away for work. For lack of better words, I consider him my other half, so there’s always an empty feeling when he’s gone. Not to mention this big, new house will be way too quiet without him around.

  “I’ll see you in three days,” he says, tossing his suitcase in the trunk. He steps in front of me, planting a kiss on my lips.

  “I’ll be here waiting.” I lean into him as he wraps a hand around my waist.

  “You’ll keep the bed warm for me?”

  I giggle. “Sure will.”

  “Good.” With one more swift kiss, Kyle lets me go and turns for his BMW. He sends me a wink after hopping into the car and I watch him pull out of our driveway, giving the horn a small beep before passing the palm trees along the curb of our house. When I can no longer see him, I sigh, taking a look around the front yard in detail this time.

  It’s immaculate. Dark gray cobblestone leads up to the roundabout driveway. Palm trees and bushes are lined up outside of it that truly do block the view for anyone to see what’s going on in front of our house.

  The driveway is designed on a short hill, so one would have to drive up to leave it or walk down to get to our front door. It almost represents a home in Beverly Hills or Malibu. Funny, as a little girl I used to obsess over the revamped version of 90210, wishing I could live their life. Now, in my own special way, I am living that life…minus all the drama and gossip.

  I look up at the sky. It’s mostly clear, blue, with hardly any clouds around. It’d be the perfect day to lounge in the backyard and sunbathe. Not too hot. The perfect temperature. Walking down the steps of the porch, I make my way up the driveway to check the mailbox. There is one piece of junk mail from a plumbing company.

  “Make sure you grab the mulch too!” I hear a voice yell across the street. I glance over, noticing a black pickup truck in front of the home across the street from us. The words Ward Landscaping & Design are stamped on the door.

  A blonde in a purple dress and black pumps walks down her driveway, meeting up with the men. She points at a few spots in her yard, and one of the men, sporting a thick beard and raven hair, nods his head, says something to her, and then meets the men in the yard to get to work.

  She goes to her mailbox, taking out her mail. I start to turn, but catch her eye along the way.

  “Oh! Hi, neighbor!” she yells across the street, waving wildly.

  I turn back, smiling and waving. “Hi!”

  “Oh—wait a minute! Let me get a good look at you!” She trots across the street with her mail in hand, swishing her hips a little too much. “Oh my goodness—look at you!” She beams at me, her teeth a stunning white. “Your husband wasn’t kidding—you’re gorgeous!”

  “You’ve met my husband?” I ask, continuing a smile.

  “Sure did—just yesterday.” She taps me on the shoulder with her mail. “Mrs. Bertha next door was out here chatting with him when I pulled up. I jumped in to say hello to him. I heard we would be getting new neighbors soon.” She looks me up and down, but not in a critical way, more like admiring what she sees. “You’re so young!” she exclaims, and I just keep smiling, because not smiling is impolite. “And beautiful—flawless skin. That’s naturally curly hair, I bet. Cute bust and hips and still petite—honey, you are the full package, aren’t you?”

  I laugh as she does. “Thank you.” I point at the men across the street, steering the subject a different direction because the way she’s looking at me is slightly uncomfortable now, almost like she wants to jump right into my skin. “What are those guys working on for you over there?”

  “Oh—one of my trees is dying, for some reason, so they’re replacing it and also adding more mulch around the garden to make up for it.” She plants a hand on her hip, turning halfway to look at the men, who are already stained with sweat. The humidity will do that to you. “Between you and me, I wanted the tree gone, but my husband insisted that I call them and get it replaced. I thought the owner would show—he normally does for these sort of mishaps—but not today. Must be busy.”

  “Do you know the owner well?”

  “Oh.” She sighs dreamily, a smile pasted on her face. “Honey, I wish I did.” She giggles, and it hits me that this woman isn’t dressed up to go to work or a day out. She dressed up in hopes she’d run into the owner. I’m not sure what that says about her, but she’s pleasant, and I don’t know what her home life is like, so who am I to judge? “Anyway, I saw your husband leaving. Is he headed to work?”

  “Yeah—out of town for the next three days.”

  “Oh—bummer. Those days when they’re gone are always the worst. Bill works out of town a lot, too. Does architectural designs for commercial places, so locations always vary.” She huffs.

  “Oh, that’s cool. Kyle runs an investment banking company in New York.” I don’t know why I tell her that, but I figure since she’s sharing her husband’s occupation, I should share mine too.

  “That’s amazing!”

  “I was actually looking into having someone do our backyard. It’s nice, but I want to liven it up, make it a place I’d actually like to hang out. Not only that, but we’re thinking about having a housewarming in a few months or so to break it in.”

  “Oh, honey, hire Ward Landscaping! I am telling you, the owner is a genius! He has a great eye, and he’s efficient and quick. Everyone around here uses him—ask Mrs. Bertha and Mr. Hull. I’m sure he’s made himself a pretty penny landscaping all of our houses.”

  “I will have to look into them. Thank you for the recommendation.”

  “Oh, no problem! Just let him know I sent you!”

  “I didn’t catch your name,” I say, realizing how rude of me it is to not have asked when she first trotted over.

  “Oh, I’m Meredith Aarons! And y
ours?”

  “Gabrielle Moore, but most people call me Gabby.”

  “Well, Gabby, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

  “Same to you,” I smile again, and she turns, waving goodbye as she rushes back across the street.

  “Oh—no! Wait!” she yells at the landscapers. “That’s not the color mulch I wanted! Do you have something darker?”

  I laugh on my way back to the house, shutting the door behind me and going to the kitchen to make a cup of mint green tea.

  After it’s made, I walk around the corner to get to my studio, where my laptop is. I type Ward Landscaping into the search bar of Google and the company pops up as an ad first, and then as the first search result.

  “Well, someone has good advertising skills,” I mumble to myself. I click on the website, and it pulls up a beautifully designed website. The background of the website is a wooden design, and there are several square photos of large pools, well-laid backyards, colorful gardens, decks with fire pits, and shrubbery.

  I click on the “about” page next. It’s been a habit of mine for as long as I can remember. I always like to know who I’m searching or looking into before getting deeper, but there’s not much there. It only mentions that the owner of the company, Marcellus Ward, started Ward Landscaping & Design five and half years ago and that the company is known for both residential and commercial landscaping. The phone number and email are listed at the bottom of the page.

  On his website he has several tab sections—one for outdoor living, pool and spa design, and of course landscaping. I jump to the portfolio next and scroll through, clicking on the images that catch my eye the most.

  The gardens are my favorite. The array of colorful flowers lures me in so much that I’m pretty much sold on the idea of hiring them. Although Kyle makes most of the household money, I do some work from home. I teach classes online, and sell my art. I also saved most of the money Kyle gave me when we dated and he wanted me to “treat” myself. Considering all this, I think I can afford some of the remodeling on the backyard, and maybe I can surprise him with it. I’m sure he’d love it, plus he loves being outside. Not only that, but this Ward guy has a financing option.