Craving Forbidden (Craving Series Book 8)

by Crave Publishing

  It was Gretchen’s idea to come to therapy. Ace realizes—for once—his wife hasn’t been incorrect: This is something they need, badly. Married only a few years, she’s desperate to save the marriage, and he his relationship with his son. What could be so horrible about talking to someone about our problems? Maybe this quack can help Gretchen see why I need to get out of here so bad.

  Jade looks up to watch them enter. She smiles warmly, noting how the woman appears to be memorizing the pattern on the new Oriental rug as she chews and slurps on her upper lip. Jade tries not to look away. She’s not sure why she wants to. She’s relieved when he extends his hand to hers, puffing his massive chest clad in a police officer’s uniform complete with badge. His hand is warm.

  “Hi, I’m Ace Hartman. This is my wife, Gretchen.”

  “Welcome! It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” She reaches for Gretchen’s hand but the woman’s gaze is still stuck on the carpet. Jade grabs her clipboard and patient information form. Ace—Ace—and Gretchen Hartman.

  “If you could have a seat and take a few minutes to fill this out, that would be wonderful. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Jade says.

  Dr. O’Leary leaves the couple in the waiting room and retreats behind rustic wooden doors marked “Staff Only.” She ruffles quickly through her tattered datebook. Four clients today. Two intakes. It won’t be the worst day.

  She closes her eyes and collects her first impressions of the couple. He stands a stocky five-foot-seven but seems six feet tall. He walks with a confidence mirrored in the way he speaks. She wonders if part of the confidence comes from the uniform. His skin is the color of rich soil. It reminds Jade of life and vitality. Gretchen is his physical opposite. She hunches but would likely be taller than her husband if she stood up straight. Her pale skin and dingy hair remind Jade of soggy, stale potato chips. The way she walks a step behind him with those listless eyes makes Jade wonder what has brought them here.

  Jade can’t miss the still smoke of mistrust and anger between them. Is it resentment? Is it hostility? She can’t be sure. Her internal clock—the one she perfected in graduate school only a few years prior—tells her it’s time to check on the couple. She walks assuredly to the waiting room to find Ace finishing the consent to treatment form.

  Ace has already taken a seat on the tired couch before Jade can offer it. Gretchen follows, plopping into its hug. Jade closes the door, first glancing across the hall to the larger group therapy room, which has been left tidy, and slides the “In Session” sign to the left before sitting in the warm, mismatched La-Z-Boy opposite the couch.

  “Welcome! I’m Dr. O’Leary but would prefer that you call me Jade. I’m looking forward to getting to know you both and why you have decided to come in for couple’s therapy,” she says.

  Jade quickly makes sense of the couple’s story: They met six years ago long distance through Match.com. Ace had just ended a long-term relationship and was recovering from a broken heart. Gretchen kept him company and his mind off his heartbreak. The couple is now experiencing friction because of his desire to move back home and to the city, where he insists he could make more money in law enforcement and “do something important” instead of “making junk money and sitting around writing tickets all day.” Gretchen insists that she is not, and never could be, a city girl, and that she has responsibilities in the Bay State. He’s frustrated that Gretchen quit her job shortly after his move to Massachusetts and hasn’t looked for work since. This, Ace says, has added to their financial concerns. Jade makes good use of the intake appointment, helping the couple establish goals. They hope to negotiate a better living situation, finances, and ultimately move out of her aunt’s house. They want to improve their communication and find a way to make Ace happier living in New England. And, they hope to reach a compromise about their lackluster sex life.

  Easy. Typical. Not a problem.

  Jade kicks off her boots and hits her answering machine as she reaches for the can opener. She frowns, listening to the first message from her most recent ex, Jonah. Her hands become clammy.

  “I really do miss you, Jade. I wish you’d pick up. You’re making me feel like a stalker. Just one last time? Please? I will beg you. I’ll make it worth it. We could go to that sushi place. I love you, baby. Call me.”

  Say it like you mean it, Jonah. What you’re looking for is one last fuck. Nothing more. Nothing less.

  Jade swallows the temptation to dial his number. Even his name tastes strange on her tongue now. Calling him would only result in heartache. For everyone. It wasn’t just about her. She knew she’d been selfish to ever think it was. Jonah is just your vice. Some days, being a therapist only makes Jade feel like a hypocrite. She desperately tries not to be, but she’s only human. Put the clients away. Put them in a box, she reminds herself. Put him away too. Then, she hears her mother’s voice: “Do as I say, not as I do.” Jade shakes her head and grinds her teeth, inhaling deeply through her nose. Sadness runs from her eyes to her mouth. Enough! This is ridiculous. The cats need to be fed. No man is worth this. You’re acting like the worst client ever, Charlie. Stop!

  Jade hits the number two on her cell phone’s speed dial. Sue is quick to answer.

  “Thank God!” Jade exclaims.

  “What did he do now?” Sue asks, breathless.

  “He left a message. He wants me to call him. Don’t let me do it, Sue. I know better. Remind me why…”

  “A married man. Reason enough? How about his wife is going to hunt you down and kill you? What about all his broken promises? That time he left you with the hotel bill and never bothered to show up? What about the time he promised you New Year’s Eve and then his wife got sick? Are you kidding me, Jade? Do I need to remind you about the stuffed bee he got you for Valentine’s Day last year that was three dollars from the pharmacy? What do you think he got his wife?”

  “You don’t understand how it is, Sue. You have James. You have the kids. I’m here alone every night. I miss him. It’s hard,” Jade insists.

  “You’re beginning to sound like one of your clients! What would you tell them?” Sue asks.

  “I know. I know. Okay. Change the subject. I won’t call him back. I promise. But…do you think he’s miserable?” She swallows her guilt for wanting him to be.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s miserable. Sleeping on the couch for, oh, ever! Stuck with that frigid wife of his? Come on, Jade! You know he’s miserable! He’s told you that a thousand times. That’s what makes him even more pathetic. He’s that miserable, yet he can’t leave his mommy,” Sue asserts.

  “Good! He deserves to be miserable!”

  Jade flips through her mail as Sue lists reasons Jade wouldn’t want to be married to Jonah anyway. She thinks of his wife, Kate, and purposely turns her attention to the electric bill instead. She’s barely listening to her friend but Sue doesn’t notice. My God, I need a life. Maybe Cole?

  Jade is late for her date with Cole. It never surprises her how, when it comes to her personal life, she can’t manage time. She powers down her cell phone, but not before shooting Sue a text about where she is and what time she expects to be home. Jade often wonders if anyone would notice—besides the cats—if she never came home. That’s the thing about living alone. She has catastrophic fantasies about floating in the Connecticut River all weekend after a date and no one knowing she’s missing. She feels lucky for Sue’s friendship. Sue’s work with the shelter makes her the perfect person to keep track of Jade’s whereabouts. Besides, Sue is always interested in juicy date gossip.

  She parks her car outside the restaurant, runs her fingers through her shoulder-length locks, and checks her teeth for lipstick marks in the rearview mirror before stepping out of the car. She wears a knee-length black dress and black leather knee-high boots. Her hair hangs in loose curls that bounce in reverence to the long overdue haircut she received from Amy only hours before. Her lips sport only lip-gloss. They shine like plump grapes in the streetlights. The only other make
up she wears is mascara. Jade believes in being authentic in dating situations. It’s something she tells her clients all the time: When you put on airs, you only wind up disappointed. She has learned this the hard way.

  Cole is seated where he said he’d be—at the bar. He’s dressed as promised, in khakis and a navy polo shirt. His loafers are shiny and his longish, dark hair is still wet from what Jade assumes was a shower after his job as a loan officer. He looks just like his picture and Jade grows more hopeful as their eyes meet and she slides onto a stool beside him.

  “Hi, beautiful,” he whispers.

  Jade’s stomach bounces. She hasn’t felt these butterflies in a long time. It is nice. No wedding band tan line. But it’s February. And some men don’t wear wedding bands.

  “Hi, handsome,” she manages to say. You sound like a mouse. Cut it out! Her face is growing hot as he extends his hand to hers. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “It’s nice to meet you in person,” he says. “You’re worth the wait.”

  She stares at her bare ring finger. Awkward.

  Cole senses her nervousness and picks right up.

  “They said the table would be ready in about fifteen minutes. You haven’t missed much. Would you like a drink while we wait?” he offers.

  “Yes, please. I’d love one. Chardonnay,” she says.

  Hours and too many cocktails to count later

  Jade hops out of the cab, half expecting Cole to be whisked away by the cab driver instantly. She feels like Cinderella jumping into the pumpkin carriage after the ball and is afraid to blink. She misses him already and he’s still in her direct line of vision.

  Cole appears to be having the same mental battle. He cracks his knuckles and considers his options. As the cabbie groans and clears his throat for the third time, Cole finally steps out on the curb to join her.

  “Give us a minute,” he says to Frank.

  His eyes lock on Jade’s. It’s as if he’s learning her face. God, he’s perfect.

  “I hope I see you again soon, beautiful.”

  He gently reaches for the back of her head. Her curls weave between his fingers naturally and she closes her eyes as he moves in to kiss her sweetly on the lips. Her body heats as she accepts his kiss like a rare treasure. She wants more and is disappointed when he pulls back.

  She’s glad for the darkness of the night. Her cheeks must be scarlet by now and she’s afraid her breathing will give away how badly she wants him. Exercising patience is something Jade is never any good at.

  He walks her up her front steps and waits as she fiddles with her keys. When she finally cracks her front door, he leans in for another kiss and turns to the grouchy cabbie.

  “Text me!” he calls.

  And then, he’s gone.

  The following week

  Ace Hartman sits in the waiting room with his arms crossed on his oversized chest. The empty chair between him and his wife speaks volumes: “Don’t come near me!” Jade wonders who sat down last. Gretchen’s long stringy hair covers most of her birthmarks today and she chews on her upper lip. Jade gestures to the couple to follow her to the therapy room.

  “Hello! How have you been?” She’s intentionally chipper.

  The room sleeps for two full minutes.

  Gretchen shifts and tugs at her sweatshirt, the same one she wore during their first visit last week. Ace glares at the wall.

  “He’s pissed at me over my aunt. Again,” Gretchen finally offers. For the first time, the woman makes eye contact with Jade; a silent plea.

  “What do you think your husband is upset about?” Jade inquires, intentionally asking for Gretchen’s opinion on this rather than Ace’s. Establish trust. She knows this move will irritate Ace but she knows earning Ace’s trust won’t be nearly as difficult as earning Gretchen’s. It’s a matter of stacking her deck.

  “He’s pissed that we live with her,” Gretchen says.

  On cue, Ace cannot remain silent anymore and takes the bait.

  “Pissed that we live with her? Is that what you think I’m pissed about? No! I’m not pissed about that!” he bellows.

  Yikes. That sounds a little more than pissed to me.

  “Then can you share what is bothering you, Ace?” Jade asks. Would Ace stop in his tracks if I said ‘What are you pissed about, Ace?’

  “I’m pissed that she’s too lazy to get off the couch and get a part-time job and help me out financially so we can get a place of our own,” Ace says. “I can’t do this alone, and she doesn’t seem to care.”

  “How does it make you feel to hear him say that, Gretchen?”

  “I don’t know. I think things will work out, and I try telling him that, but he doesn’t listen. I don’t understand what he wants from—”

  “You don’t understand what I want? Let me clarify. I want help!” he yells.

  “But I’m in pain! And who is going to watch Ace, Jr? I can’t get a job that pays more than it would cost for daycare. Besides, I take care of Grams,” Gretchen insists, turning to Jade. “He flips out like this and he knows there’s nothing I can do!”

  “I’m not flipping out! You make dinner for Grams once a week. You don’t even do that much for me!” Ace’s voice grows. “Something tells me you could fit it into your busy schedule of watching Netflix to work a few hours here and there and help!”

  “Okay. Let’s slow this down and look at it for a moment. It sounds like you’re having a disagreement about expectations and roles. I’m wondering if you talked about your expectations before you got married?” Jade asks.

  Gretchen is crying and back to chewing on her lip. Tears dot her dingy sweatshirt. Her hands knot in its pockets. Jade isn’t bothered by the displays of emotion: Emotion is healthy. Instead, she rummages in her brain to remember the key points of emotionally focused couples therapy and decides now is a good time to talk about the shared dream. This is what I was born to do. I can help them fix this. She hopes to reconnect the couple to a time when their relationship was working.

  Tonight could be the night. Give it a chance. Jonah has a life. You deserve one too.

  Jade is relieved when the weekend finally arrives. She looks forward to plans with Cole and makes time early in the week to see her gynecologist to renew her birth control. It’s been a while, and she wants to be prepared for what might happen between her and Cole. She takes her time in the bubble bath. She is sure to shave every last inch of her long legs and spends extra time conditioning her hair. She wants to smell good for him and follows her bath with body lotion and spray.

  Jade stands in the mirror, straightening her hair, and inhales her hopes for the evening: Cole will be thrilled with how her legs look under the new little black dress. She admires her new butterfly scarf in the mirror. It isn’t often that she makes it to the Holyoke Mall, but her feeling about tonight propelled her to purchase new clothes.

  The clock on her vanity reads 6:47 p.m. and Jade senses the monarchs fluttering in her stomach—instead of on her scarf—as she gathers her keys and applies a final coat of lip-gloss. She has agreed to meet Cole at the theater on Main Street at 7 p.m. This theater has a history almost as rich as the tiny New England city it calls home. Jade is impressed with Cole’s choice of venue.

  Jade reaches for her keys, and, taking one last scan of her living room before locking up, she heads for the car. She has barely wedged it into a parking spot when she sees him. His eyes catch hers and he jogs to meet her. As she grabs her purse, Cole opens her door. Jonah who?

  “Hello, gorgeous. You’re right on time! Impressive! How was your day?”

  Jade melts at the sincerity of his voice. She allows him to take her hand and guide her safely onto the curb.

  “I’m excellent. Now.” She smiles.

  His hair falls in his face and she hopes he never cuts it. She loves the contrast of his sky eyes to the nighttime in his hair. She wishes she could touch.

  Cole doesn’t miss anything.

  “Everything okay?” he asks. “
You seem a little quiet.”

  “I’m sorry.” She smiles coyly. “You’re just really handsome.”

  Cole laughs and grips her hand harder.

  “Come on, beautiful. We could stand here all night. Make sure you lock up!”

  There is something so protective and instinctual about the way he moves. She can see the martial artist in his walk and the way he carries himself—and her—through the crowded street and into the theater.

  Intermission comes after what feels like ten hours. Jade is grateful for the silence between them can now be filled with chatter. Cole is a great conversationalist and picks up where she falls short.

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  “I think it’s amazing. I mean. it’s one thing to see it in the movies, but when you see it on stage it really brings the whole story to life,” Jade guesses, since she has barely taken in any of the action on the stage. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m like a school girl. Men don’t affect me like this! I love theater! I hang on every word! “Of course, I’m a little distracted. What about you?”

  Now it’s Cole’s turn to tease.

  “Honestly? I haven’t been able to concentrate, either. All I can think about is kissing you,” he says.

  Jade’s cheeks turn a brighter red than the lipstick of the actors in the chorus. She lowers her eyes as her dimples deceive her.

  “Me too, you,” she says, unwilling to conceal her feelings any longer. Her hand feels so perfect in his. His is just big enough to fully circle hers and chills run up her spine as he grips it tighter again. He hasn’t let go all night.

  “Do you want to get out of here? We can always come back after that kiss,” Cole suggests.

  All Jade has to do is nod. It’s supposed to be this easy, I like it this way. This feels good. Jonah wasn’t this easy.

  The couple is in the street, kissing under the stars to the sound of cars and footsteps. It feels to Jade like they are the only people in the world.