I passed Mark the basket, and I could feel the tears as they threatened to spill onto my face. I wasn’t willing to cry in front of anyone, so I told Archer, “I’ll be right back. I need to get a little air.”
As I got up, I heard him say, “But we are outside.”
I hurried down the beach to find somewhere to sit and think by myself. “What the hell is wrong with you, Tiffany?” I muttered.
“Hey, stop, tell me what’s wrong?” Archer stopped me in my tracks.
I looked up at him and smiled sadly. “Did we make a mistake? Do you regret us getting married? Should we just get divorce when we get back to town?” I blurted out all of the questions I had been holding in for a while now. I waited for him to answer, but he didn’t say anything for a few minutes.
“Yes, I do want to get a divorce, but…I want to be able to date you and get to know you. Then and only then, we can get married if we both agree to it.”
I stood there stunned, no words coming to my mind. I hadn’t expected such a response. I had just figured he would say yes. But…he wanted to date me? That could only mean he was interested in me! I was happy, excited, and still a bit shocked. It made me wonder if he was using me and didn’t really like me much. However, I was confused because when we made love, it seemed like love. I know I’ve confused the two in the past. But this time had seemed different, or at least I’d thought it had. All this train of thought did, though, was confuse me even more. I wanted to be married to him, but I didn’t want him if he didn’t want me. I felt trapped and sad, yet happy and in a new place.
I also couldn’t figure out how his brother and sister had accepted me so readily, and he still hadn’t. At least, not enough to want to stay married. I knew there was a strong connection between us. But sex wasn’t love, and I couldn’t get those words confused right now. That would be the difference in my sanity and madness.
12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Archer
I had missed my brother and sister so much over the past year. Sometimes, they would come home for other holidays, but this last year, neither of them had made it back for either Thanksgiving or Christmas.
“I’ve missed you, brother,” I gave Cliff another hug as we sat on the beach.
“So, how’s business?” he asked me.
“Pretty good, really,” I said.
“Dad still telling you cosmetic surgeons aren’t real doctors?” he asked jokingly.
“What do you think, man?” I sighed.
“‘Now, listen here, son. If you want to be a doctor, you need to be a real doctor. Not this pussy doctor, a cosmetic surgeon. What the hell is that?’” Cliff did a perfect imitation of our father.
I laughed loudly. “Well, not in those exact words, but the same sentiment. I swear, he comes up with new ways to demean my career every year.”
“Just ignore him. I’m sure you have made a lot of money and are quite comfortable. Plus, tell me, does it make you happy?” Cliff asked me.
“Well, I’ll be honest with you. The breast jobs and Botox stuff aren’t something I feel as accomplished about. Now, give me a good facial reconstructive surgery, or something like that, and I’m happy as a pig in the mud,” I told him.
Cliff laughed. “Yeah, something that will help someone out, help patients feel better about themselves. I know.”
“Yep. I love the jobs that help a person go back outside after a long time inside. You remember the one patient I had who was burnt badly on his face?” I asked.
“Yeah. It was a teen boy, right? His parents had died in a house fire, and he was badly burned. Lucky to make it out alive, if I remember correctly,” Cliff recalled.
“Yes, his name was Tommy Shaw. He wouldn’t go outside after the accident. His face was scarred, but I didn’t think his face was that bad. I helped him, and he was able to go out afterward. I felt so good when he visited my office one day and told me how happy he was. He thanked me, and you know, he still visits me from time to time and writes me emails.”
“That is awesome. Dad doesn’t get it, does he?”
I shook my head. “Nope. I don’t know why he can’t see I help out plenty of people, too.”
“So…you have to tell me the details. How did you meet her, and why did you get married so quickly?” Mark asked me, a look in his eyes that told me he had some sort of an idea forming in his mind. He’d known that I was the best man for Landon, and I’d messaged Mark that I had planned a cool Vegas Bachelor Party. But I hadn’t discussed it with him since that email. I hadn’t thought about it, and the Maui Trip was coming up, so I had just waited to share more. Yeah, I know that wouldn’t be an excuse he would accept, so I just chuckled, “What happens in Vegas, stay in Vegas.” I smiled broadly.
He laughed, “Not going to work with me, bro. Tell me. Fess up to it all, or I will pry it out of Tiffany later,” he threatened.
“Good luck prying anything out of her that she doesn’t want to tell you,” I smiled broadly. I trusted her already. Well, she had left me stuck at dinner that one night, I recalled.
It had been a rough night, and I had wanted to escape back to the room and to her. However, my dad had been going on and on about cosmetic surgery and how it was like decaffeinated coffee. “Neither option is real, at least not important, and no one thinks of them as a good choice,” he had explained. I had wanted to point out how much money I had in the bank, that I was driving a new Mercedes, and how my schedule was full most of the year. But we’d had this discussion in the past, and I’d known that none of that would matter to him. It didn’t matter to him because he felt I had picked a walk-through-it profession. That was how he’d referred to it in the past. He never thought I did anything helpful to people. But that was simply because he thought people’s looks were what God had given them, and they should just deal with the bad features and accept them.
I chuckled internally as I thought about the jowls my father had forming on his neck. I wondered if, as they filled in, he would just let them be. Or would he come to me or to another cosmetic surgeon? I hoped he would; it would serve him right. I’ve tried to explain to him that cosmetic surgery was good for my patients; the problems they had fixed had made them feel less beautiful or accepted by society. After their surgeries, though, they were happy and went out more often. To me, that was a good thing.
I didn’t know how much to tell Mark, though. I knew he wouldn’t tell anyone else, but the truth was, I didn’t know if he would respect me less if he knew the truth.
He must have sensed my hesitation. “Hey, it’s okay. You can give me the light version. I don’t want to know all about the sex and all that shit. I’m not a pervert, you know.”
I laughed. “I know that. Well, I knew her before, and we reconnected in Vegas. It was a shock to both of us how much chemistry we had, and we decided to get married.” I told him the lie we’d made up for everyone.
Mark looked at me closely and patted me. “So, I’ll tell you the version I think is true. If it is, you just nod. No one else needs to know, okay?”
I nodded, “Go ahead.” I was looking forward to seeing what his version of the events might sound like. I kind of wished I could have Tiffany her to listen as well. I’m sure she would die laughing.
“You were at the bachelor party, and you got drunk, all hot and bothered. You find this hot girl. I don’t know what she does, but she is fine – I’ll agree with you there. You get drunker, and one thing leads to another, and you decide to marry each other. Am I right?” he asked with a ‘cat that ate the canary’ look on his face.
I laughed. I couldn’t help it; he had most of it right. I really wished Tiffany had heard that. I could picture her gasping at his comments. She would give us away…well, just as much as my own laugh had done. “Close enough,” I admitted, and he laughed, long and hard.
“Are you done yet?” I asked as he continued to laugh and wipe tears from his face.
He held up a finger. “HHHHHHHHH, almost, I think…HHH
HHHH.”
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t that damn funny, I thought. But, as I thought about it, our story was pretty damn funny because I knew parts of the story that my brother wasn’t privy to. Mark had no idea that I had blacked out and woke up the next morning with a ring on my finger. If he knew the whole truth, he would die laughing. I wanted to right now as I thought of it, and I continued to laugh along with Mark.
“I think I’ll have another drink,” I said, holding up my hand to get the attention of the waiter.
“Same here. So, Tiffany seems like a really good girl for you,” he said with a smile. “I was beginning to think you didn’t know how to spot the good ones, not with all of those bad ones you’ve dated in the past.”
“I didn’t pick bad women,” I huffed, miffed by his comment. I guess that really depended on your definition of ‘bad,’ though. I kind of liked the bad girls in bed, the ones who would pout at you as they sucked your dick. Like I recalled Tiffany doing just this afternoon. Shit, I had to stop thinking of her. My dick throbbed just thinking about her stunning body and winning personality. I really did like a lot of things about her.
“Yes, you did. All you ever picked were the gold diggers. Not this time, though; I can tell. She doesn’t talk the same way, or behave anything like those others,” Mark said. “You picked a girl who isn’t into your money, and she is funny. You’ve scored in two big categories, brother. Enjoy it. Not everyone finds that,” he added, sighing.
I smiled, enjoying how he’d described my wife. MY WIFE…I have found someone who is special, I realized. Silently, I did a checklist in my mind of the perks of having Tiffany as my wife. I pictured her ample breasts and how they fit perfectly into my mouth and hands. Her sexy body and how she moaned when I made love to her. How her nails scrapped down my back as I pushed her over the edge. How she moaned out my name as my tongue pleased her. I had to stop, or I would run back to the room and fuck the dog shit out of her. But I couldn’t do that. Kelly had absconded with her. She’s taken her to have manicures done, and have girl talk.
I recalled talking about marriage with a few of my exes in the past. But at the time, there had always been a part of my mind that would cry out in pain, leading me to believe something was wrong and that it was best to take it slow. Usually, when I said that, the relationship didn’t last much longer. I found out that they had indeed only picked me because I was very wealthy, and they wanted to share my money with me.
I guess Mark was right; I did have bad taste in women. I couldn’t count on one hand how many women I had broken up with after finding out they only wanted me for my money. It hadn’t helped my self-esteem one bit. Once I found out their true nature, I kicked them to the curb and told them it was over. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been called a bastard by a lying gold-digger. It would thrill me to never have to meet that type of woman again.
I realized how nice it truly was to be with someone like Tiffany, someone who was not into me for my money. How could I tell? There were signs I’d noticed. I immediately conjured up one of my exes in my mind – Pamela. She was about three girls back, I think. She had offered to suck my dick if she could go shopping. I had thought it was cute at first, and honestly, quite a turn on. I would let her suck my cock as I threw money down at her. But I hadn’t enjoyed the game for long, though, and she had begun to complain. “You just don’t want me anymore,” she had yelled at me one night.
“Can’t we just have sex? I mean, you aren’t a prostitute. I shouldn’t have to pay you for it,” I had told her.
That had gotten me a fist to the face from her. Thank god she had never learned to hit, or I might have gotten hurt.
I had laughed at her and told her to never call me again. She had promised to press charges against me for rape, or some nonsense. I had called her bluff, telling her I’d had security cameras installed when she had first moved in. She didn’t remember when they had been installed, but that was enough to stop her threat. I’d never heard from her after that, and I was so thankful for it.
And I can’t even scratch the surface of how much of a messed-up woman Jasmine had been. I had literally done just about everything to please her as well. I wondered if I tried to please women too much. That might be my problem. I filed through the list of women in my mind. Nope. They were all just another version of a gold-digger in one way or another. It was refreshing to realize that Mark might be right about Tiffany.
Tiffany was an amazing wife. She never complained, at least, not like I recalled Jasmine doing. She also was down to fuck almost any time, and I loved that.
Holy fuck…I think I’m falling for her…or rather have fallen for her, I realized. It’s just that she was amazing…yeah, I couldn’t think of all the reasons she’s wonderful. I must have fallen in love.
I couldn’t have fallen in love, though. How? I only know her favorite things in life, and I just learned that recently. I talked myself out of the thought. It wasn’t something I was prepared to admit yet. I was scared, struck numb by my thoughts. I had staved off many false attacks of love in the past, usually by discovering the truth about the gold digger who had wormed her way into my life. But therein lie the problem. I was sure Tiffany was not a gold digger. Not even once on the cruise had she asked me for money. If she wanted something, a trinket, she bought it. At first, I hadn’t even noticed this. But now, as I thought back, I discovered that she was not in any way a woman who would ask me for money.
I didn’t know how to feel quite honestly. It was such a new thing to me, I wasn’t even sure if I was right about her. I was a bit gun shy at the moment after dredging up some of the worst memories of my past. I wouldn’t blame that on Mark, though. He was only pointing out the truth to me – the truth that I had finally admitted to myself. I had quite bad taste in women…when I was sober. Obviously, when I was drunk, I had great taste. I had hooked up with Tiffany, a real woman, who was hot, sexy, not a gold digger, and could suck a mean dick too. I was one lucky guy, and I could only hope that she would be okay with dating and marrying for real later on.
It just didn’t seem right to me to continue the marriage as it was, not right now. It made me feel kind of dirty inside. I hadn’t known her at all at the time. It had been great sex and tons of alcohol that had led to the marriage. However, I had learned more about her since then, and I had to admit that I did enjoy our times together – whether having sex or talking or both at the same time. Of course, that talk was private stuff. There were even times when I would tell her things about my childhood.
It was at that point that I realized I hadn’t learned enough about her childhood. Sure, I knew the key points she felt were important: first date, where she went, her favorite colors, favorite song, movies, and other little things. But what I craved was a good old gut-ripping story from her childhood. Something she’d done that she thought was hilarious now but may have been embarrassed about at the time. Kind of like my story of my brother’s afro. Gut-ripping to him but hilarious to Kelly and me! I wondered why I hadn’t heard any of those stories yet. I would be sure to remedy this as soon as I saw her again. I wished that could be now.
Unbidden, the thought crossed my mind that it’s highly possible that I’d found the perfect match for me. If such a person actually existed. But there was so much about Tiffany that I loved, not just liked, when I really stopped to think about it. And it wasn’t just the sex, although that was a pleasant bonus. Sex didn’t mean you loved someone. I’d made that mistake as a young man of 16, when I had fallen head over heels in love.
It was something I wasn’t very proud of, and for that reason, I’d never shared the story with a single person. I had gone to a friend’s house to study one day, but the friend, Alex, had not been at home. Alex’s mother had said come in and wait. “He’ll be home soon. Come on in; I’ll get you some lemonade,” she had told me. I’d had such a crush on Alex’s mom; she was referred to by all of the guys as “the HOT MOM”.
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