Love You...Never

by Francesca Penn

  Damn. She’s using the promotion card. “And that is a real scoop? You’re not bullshitting?” I verify.

  She flips her brown strands over her shoulder and holds up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  I frown at her. “Really? I’ll go, but know my being irritated by a false lead could affect your bonus.”

  “Dang, Milo. You already threatening me?” She laughs. “It’s January. We have eleven months left.”

  I smile at her and pat her belly. “Go feed the baby and get off my nerves, woman.” Loli giggles as I stalk out. “Send the details to me. I guess I’ll head that way. Also, tell Connor to meet me at my car in ten.”

  “I still think you two have the strangest friendship ever,” Loli says to my back.

  “What? I can’t be friends with my ex’s husband? I’m a confident man, and Amy and I were beyond over when they met,” I say for the millionth time right before disappearing.

  Connor is a junior executive. He’s a good guy with a sharp eye, and if I can still appease Loli and my boss’s wife by helping their lingerie goddess with his services, that would be a win-win for me. I pop into the deli for a muffin and a coffee since I don’t want any of the bullshit sludge that’s usually offered at these types of meetings. Connor is leaning on my black Alfa Romeo Stelvio Quadrifoglio trying to look like the world’s first Ad Exec-turned-model with his black suit and blond hair slicked back a la Charlie Hunnam.

  “Why are you putting ass prints on my one hundred-thousand-dollar SUV?”

  “Sorry, man. I was texting,” Connor apologizes absently, green eyes still glued to the phone. “Amy has new lingerie. Wanna see?”

  “Why would you want me to see pictures of your wife in lingerie?” I ask as I put my briefcase in the back seat. I shrug out of my suit jacket and hang it in the back, too, as he speaks from the passenger seat.

  “Oh, please. You’ve already seen everything my wife has to offer before I knew her.”

  “Yes,” I say while jumping in the driver seat, “but you are her husband. Marriage is a beautiful, cherished, and sacred thing. Your opinion in only one that should matter to her, especially when it comes to lovemaking.”

  I start my SUV and pretend Connor is not giving me a blank look. “How can you say something so profound about relationships then tell any woman interested in you to shut up and open her legs, Mr. Sex or Nothing?”

  I sigh hard. I know my damage, I don’t need the wonder twins constantly reminding me. “I’m not looking at Amy’s lingerie pictures. Does she know that’s something you’d try to show me?”

  Connor purses his lips but ignores me as he types into my phone. My phone pings on the center console four times in a row. I reach for my phone with a threat on my lips. “Connor, I swear if these texts are from you…”

  I read the display. Amy.

  I unlock my phone to find several lingerie pictures she sent me with the caption: “Which should I choose?”

  I hit dial on my phone, and it rings through my Bluetooth. “Hello?” Amy answers sounding distracted.

  “What in the hell is wrong with you two?” I say with far more exasperation than I actually feel. They amuse me, but I’m not telling them.

  “Connor said he asked for your opinion, and you got all holy.”

  “I simply told him that he should have the only decision as your husband. We are not brother husbands.”

  “You deflowered me; I’m sure you can handle a lingerie picture.” Amy sounded bored, and Connor looked at me with all the “told you” he could muster. Weirdest couple ever.

  “I swear if you two are trying to be extreme and trick me into a threesome or something, we’re going to fight.”

  “Just look at the damn pictures, Milano. I want to do a boudoir photo shoot for one of Connor’s Valentine’s Day gifts; you know, since I have someone who isn’t allergic to the gooeyness of the day.”

  Connor’s heart wasn’t broken on the dreaded holiday. My skin gets hot just thinking about the mortification of that day. I’m fine all year, but that holiday doesn’t exist on my calendar. Amy has a better idea than most about my reservations. When she continues, I don’t know if it’s because my silence reminds her that she struck a nerve or if she is just busy pleading her case.

  “We all know you have a crazy eye for the way a woman is supposed to look in her underwear. It’s only four pieces. You could have been done by now.”

  “Fine. Connor start looking up everything you can find out about a company called Thrills and Frills because that’s where we’re going.”

  “No way!” Amy yells into the speaker. “That’s what I’m trying on right now. You guys are going to work with them? That’s the coolest.”

  What is it with women and this place? I’ve never heard of it, and now I know of at least three women who wear it. I enlarge the photos and look at them with assessing eyes. They look like quality pieces.

  “Not the white one; it wasn’t made for your body type. I’m sure Connor will enjoy it privately, but it isn’t the best option for a photo. Same thing with the green one. The color looks great on you, but the cut is not for your body. Don’t get anything low-rise ever. You don’t look bad, just not as good as you’re supposed to look. The black is the right cut but pales out your complexion. Plus, it reveals a lot. In my opinion, a boudoir photo shoot is supposed to tease, tempt, and entice; not put it all out there. The red is the right cut, color, and amount of sexy. Plus, the color is a popular option for Satan’s holiday.”

  “See! That is why we asked,” Amy projects through the speaker.

  “Yup,” Connor agrees. “All of them make me want to lick her.”

  “Just saying Amy’s name makes you want to lick her.”

  Connor laughs, his eyes sparkling with the love he feels for his wife. I fell the faint pang of jealousy. I used to want to be crazy in love just like that. “Where’s the lie?” he asked before switching to business mode. “Okay, honey. Stop distracting us with your sexiness; we have a lingerie company to focus on right now. I will thank the owner for creating one of the pieces I will be stripping off you tonight, though.”

  Amy giggled and disconnects, and I tried not to kill us with extreme eye rolling.

  Chapter 2

  Emiliano

  Thrills and Frills has a cute little corporate office nestled in a glass office complex. We enter the lobby, jump on the elevator, and exit on the fourth floor to the right. The office takes up the right side. We walk as Connor gives the brief details he was only able to gather in the short ride over.

  “It’s a privately-owned company founded and run by a woman. It has three storefronts and the corporate office. French boutique set up. Netted a little over five-million in sales last year. Looking into rebranding and expansion…”

  Connor’s words float away when I get a strange text from Amy.

  Amy: Good luck today! You’re the best man for the job. You know underwear and the female form like no other. FOCUS ON BUSINESS.

  We push through the glass door, and a mousy girl’s thin body leads us to a conference room. The décor, the colors, and the scents all scream woman. The last time I got an uneasy feeling this profound, I was wearing rose water, and not the good kind.

  I take a sip of the cucumber-infused water the girl gives us to lubricate my dry throat. I shake my head. I’m tripping. Amy’s text is just throwing me off my game.

  “Amy told me you had a mortal enemy senior year. Is that true?”

  “There was a girl I hated. I wouldn’t call her a mortal enemy.” My jaw is tight because I don’t like the topic. “It’s not a good time to be asking me about that, though.”

  Connor shrugs. The way he purses his lips tells me he still has more to say. “But, did you two ever patch things up? You know bygones? At the high school reunion or anything like that.”

  “I didn’t go. Why?”

  “I’m just wondering what it would be like to have someone out there who I hated.”

  “N
ot good,” I say honestly. “It’s not something you want.”

  “Does that mean you’ve moved to the bygone stage solo?”

  “I would like to think I’ve evolved, but who knows. I haven’t seen her since.” I glance at my watch, ready to move on from this meeting and interrogation.

  “Last question…”

  “Last question,” I emphasize, signaling the end of this uncomfortable conversation.

  “You wouldn’t lose your shit if I said Caris Vaughn?”

  All my cells freeze. My eye twitches. My blood rages. Every petty fiber in my being moves to the surface. Okay, I’m not in the bygone phase by a long shot.

  “Don’t ever say that evil lunatic’s name to me again,” I snap at my good friend for the first time in our years of friendship. Just now, I wonder if I should find a way to stop hating that bitch. But every time I think of her, rage coats me like hot fudge. “Why are you asking me about that psychopath anyway?”

  “Because, you are currently sitting in this evil, psychopathic lunatic’s conference room. That’s why, Emily.”

  Blood disappears from my veins, leaving me cold. Hers is the last voice I’d ever expected to hear again. She floats into my view looking equal parts demonic and beautiful. I’d hoped I would see her and realize she wasn’t as pretty as I thought. Or, she’d at least be married to no one special and look haggard from taking care of her kids by herself. No such luck. Instead, she owns a damn lingerie company.

  Caris’ smooth, brown skin glows like it always has. Her face is framed with wavy black hair that falls just past her shoulders. Her lightly glossed lips are pulled into a grim line, and her hateful gaze is adorned with thick lashes. She’s had a successful transition from a pretty girl to a knockout of a woman. My scowl deepens, and my hate for her intensifies. I do not want to be attracted to the spawn of Satan.

  Normally, I have a cool head at work. Normally, I offer a killer grin and charm the panties off the client. Literally. Normally, I’m not face-to-face with pure evil.

  Yes. If this were a normal day, I would not have responded to a potential client with, “Don’t fucking call me Emily,” I roll my concrete gaze over to Cher. “Hello.”

  Cher has been her best friend all through school, but I give her credit for not joining the war. She is loyal to The Wicked Witch of the West, but she has always been Switzerland when dealing with me. Nice and neutral.

  “Are you kidding me, Cher? I request the best, and this is what you find?” She glares at Connor. “Please tell me you’re Thomas.”

  I would feel sorry for Mr. Sunshine if I wasn’t livid. He’s paled some, and his green eyes are huge with shock from the tension permeating in the room. Cher is cool as a cucumber because she’s used to this. Connor points a shaky finger at me and mouths. “Thomas.”

  I stand, tired of her towering over me like she’s better. Well, she’s not.

  “What’s wrong, Milly? Don’t like your name anymore? You had to change it?” She taunts.

  “First, you’re the only person who disrespects my name. Second, I like my real name just fine. Don’t worry about my reasons; you’re not entitled to them.”

  Caris rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I swear if you are here to mess with my business…”

  “Get over yourself. I wasn’t thinking about you until I walked into this office. And IF I wanted to fuck with your life, I could do so remotely. I would not have to suffer looking at your face to do so.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she spat at me.

  “You’re the biggest asshole in this room,” I volley. “I don’t need to be here.”

  “Dude,” Connor chimes in, “Amy said, and I quote ‘Tell Milano to read my text again if he thinks about leaving.’ Read the text again, bro.”

  I exhale sharply and check my phone again. Focus on business. I mentally un-bunch my hackles and drawers. I hate her, but a company owned by a minority female would look lovely in my portfolio. I’m almost willing to put my hate aside until she opens her trap again.

  “Amy, huh? She’s still around? Are you two trying to rival your parents by running off after high school and pledging your eternal love to one another.”

  It’s one thing to fuck with me; it’s another to mock my parent’s love and devotion to each other. I see red. I’m rounding the conference table, and I’m in her face before I realize it.

  “You don’t have the right to mention my parents. Keep them out of your filthy mouth. They have a profound relationship that most people will never get the pleasure of experiencing. Let me correct that. YOU will never experience it because you are incapable of that kind of love, kindness, and devotion. You frigid bitch.”

  There is a collective gasp, but I don’t care. Just like high school, she’s too far under my skin, and I need to regroup. “This is stupid. I’m out,” I return to my spot and start to gather my things.

  “B-but your assistant Loli loves this brand!” Connor interjects as I throw my notebook in my briefcase. “Our boss’s wife loves this brand.” I slide my laptop on top of the notebook and zip my case. Connor stands but doesn’t reach for his items. “Amy loves this brand.”

  I pause at the door. Focus on the business. Focus on the business. Fuck that. “You help them then, Connor. This account could help you get promoted. And you can be your wife’s hero.”

  Connor looks over at the she-devil who’s staring off into space. Cher is probably playing Candy Crush and letting the scene play out as it may. Then his eyes come back to me. “But my wife asks your opinion because you have an eye for this sort of thing…”

  My phone rings. I swear if this is Amy…Oswald’s name flashes on my display.

  “Hey, Bossman.” I answer.

  “Tomás! Please tell me you’re at the Thrills and Frills meeting!”

  “Yeah…” I say slowly. I’m starting to get that uneasy feeling again.

  “Great! I’m glad my best man is on this account.”

  “But I was about to…”

  “Hold on; I’m switching to FaceTime.”

  I sigh before Oswald’s jovial face pops up on my phone. He looks beyond excited. Shit.

  “Are you having a successful brainstorming session?”

  “Haven’t started.”

  “Oh, well take the time you need. I want your full attention on this account.”

  Connor lets out a relieved sigh, Cher perks up, and Caris frowns.

  “I was giving Connor point…”

  “No. You’re point. Connor assists. I see good things in both of your futures if this is a success. Switch the view. I want to meet the genius behind this brand.”

  I do my best not to scoff, and I switch the view. Cher and Connor wave while Caris paints on a fake smile. I pass the phone to Connor. I’m not gonna hold it while he coos over Caris. I feel a headache brewing. This is not how I wanted to start my year.

  Cher appears next to me with a packet of Advil and some fresh water. See? Switzerland. I give her the first genuine smile I’ve had since entering hell. I put my briefcase back on the table. She places the items next to it. I shrug out of my blazer, fold it neatly on the table, then settle back into the leather chair I’d vacated earlier. I’m stuck. The best way to get out is over. After popping the pills and downing the water, I take Amy’s advice and set up like I would for any other client. I’m ready to work by the time Oswald finishes chatting. I have a standard list of questions I ask my clients about their vision for expanding and rebranding. I slide it over to Connor for him to complete.

  The less I talk to her, the better.

  Chapter 3

  Caris

  This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Twelve years. I had a twelve-year reprieve from Emiliano and his asshole behavior, yet he’s here as the person I need the most. Professionally --I must be cursed. I watch as he returns to his seat and takes off his blazer. Hot damn, the attractive teenage boy is a thicker, chiseled, manly version of himself. His hair is all Bridget Jones’s Baby’s Patri
ck Dempsey without the gray. It’s still the same deep chestnut brown it’s always been. His royale-style beard solidifies his grown man look. Emi’s eyes are just as light brown and beautiful as they were then, but they’re cold.

  I take a deep breath and pull in my rage. I must play nice with the biggest asshole to walk this earth. I need a moment. In the ten minutes since he’s walked back into my life, he has reminded me how his insults cut deep, still proving that no one has the power to hurt me like he does. Everything he’s said is another chip in my armor. Evil lunatic, psychopath, suffer looking at your face, your filthy mouth. YOU will never experience it because you are incapable of that kind of love, kindness, and devotion. You frigid bitch.

  It takes all the strength I’ve built from his verbal jabs in high school and every jerk I’ve met since him to keep me from running out of the conference room crying. To this day, I don’t know what I’d ever done to him to deserve this treatment. Pride won’t let me ask. I’ll just continue to give him the same treatment. So what if he has the most kissable mouth I’ve ever seen? It doesn’t change the hurtful things that come out of it.

  The memory of our senior year Valentine’s Day attacks me. I excuse myself and rush to my office; I lock myself inside and lean against the door.

  I’d tried to find the cutest outfit I could without alarming my parents. I wanted to look good for him. We’d locked eyes in the past and the warmth shining inside of them was encouraging. I hoped he would make his move. I wanted nothing more than to be in that warmth all the time. Something drew me to him, and I wanted to explore it, to discover all he had to offer.

  I’d spent the morning waiting to see him. When I did, he was casually leaning on his locker watching people and smiling at those who greeted him. Emiliano was as neat as usual. His hair was perfectly styled; his red sweater vest, white collar shirt, and navy chinos made him look distinguished.