“Are there not over a million hotels in the DFW area, Victoria? Not to mention the possible female strays he has picked up since you left his ass.” I could see her temper rising and all I wanted to do was diffuse the situation.
“Sandra, you know how he feels about hotels. This isn’t that bad, to be honest. He stays on his side and I on mine,” I admitted.
“Yet you two are sharing cinnamon roll days and ice cream nights. It makes sense. Kem has always liked you a little on the pudgy side, so why not shower you with sweets and take you off your goal.” Wow is she really going there?
“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh? I mean, I was married to the man. I don’t hate him.”
Sandra dropped her head and slumped her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Victoria. I just don’t want to see you get off track. You were slimming down, looking great over the past months, not to say you were looking bad, but fitness makes us all look amazing.” Staring at Sandra’s slim figure, large brown eyes, and flawless olive skin, I couldn’t help but think she had something against women who didn’t work out on a daily basis with constant dieting to accompany it, yet she was chomping into the au jus dripping, sodium-rich sandwich during what should be the most health conscientious time of her life. What a contradiction.
“You know what, Sandra, the hormones of pregnancy can be brutal, plus you’ve been stressed lately, so no worries,” I said smiling. “You are positively glowing.” And growing. I giggled secretly at my snap against her judgmental comments. “So how did Carlos take it?”
“He was quiet at first, but he is happy about it, calling my belly Carlos junior. I know he’s very happy, but his mind is focused on heading out on the road again in a few days.” Tradition dictated that Carlos work in the family business of trucking and she tend to home and children. Only problem was, the children didn’t come, so Carlos agreed to allow her to work a few years back. They tried for ages to start their family, so the thought that their dreams were coming true melted the bitter onslaught that Sandra had delivered.
Given that Sandra was up all night with worry, I decided to let her go home early, letting her know I would see her after lunch the next day. After the excitement of her good news died down and she left for the day, I sat at my desk thinking of the time Kem and I planned on having a baby Sutter early on in our marriage. After making love, we would fantasize about a little boy Sutter with rich butternut complexion, hot-cocoa, thick, wild hair, and breathtaking emerald eyes that would take our hearts. My mood soon became thoughtful with me repeating one of my grandmother’s beloved phrases, “With tragedy comes triumph.”
I then corrected a few budgets and sent off alterations to one of my databases. I soon headed home, stopping to pick up Chinese for one, hoping Kem would be out of the house doing whatever it was that he did. Parking my Lexus next to Kem’s coupe knocked those wishes out of my mind. However, I was determined to keep the mood light. The aroma of fried catfish and green tomatoes hit me like a punch to the gut when I stepped into the front entrance. Toeing off my shoes and peeling off my suit blazer, I stepped into the kitchen, dropping my takeout in the nearest trash receptacle. Kem was setting a plate with two large catfish fillets, the biggest spherical slice possible of battered green tomato, and a side salad on the kitchen island. The wine glass filled with Pinot Grigio topped off the meal that had my eyes glistening and my mouth watering. Before I could open my mouth to ask, he sat two small bowls next to me, one filled with cocktail sauce and the other with my grandmother’s special tartar sauce. I rubbed my hands together readying myself for the best meal of my life when I saw him amble out of the kitchen with his portion of the goods.
“Hey, where are you going?” I shouted.
“To the media room. My favorite movie is about to come on,” he said continuing down the hallway.
“Scarface?” I blurted.
“You got it. Lock up when you’re done,” he joked from the distance. I jumped off the bar stool to run into my room in order to strip out of my itchy business suit and into a loose tank and drawstring pajama pants. For the life of me I don’t know why I chose business as a career path. The medical field would have been more comfortable.
I retrieved my food and walked into the media room that included a theater-size projector screen, eight oversize leather recliners, an unused full bar of alcohol, and a popcorn maker. Kem was so thrilled designing the room but they had rarely used it, preferring instead to watch movies from the comfort of their bedroom with the fireplace lit. Kem patted the seat next to him. I sat there against my better judgment, but he did have the bottle of hot sauce and jar of pickles as bargaining chips. After I took my seat, I swept my hair back into a messy ponytail, dipping my first crispy morsel into both sauces. I slipped a pickle on top, sliding it into my wanton mouth. “I cannot believe you’re doing this to me, Kem,” I said with a mouth full of food. My grandmother’s tartar sauce was the only tartar sauce I ate. The sauce was chunky goodness with the right hint of Tabasco.
He turned to me with a look of humorous shock. “I did nothing to you, Vic. I’m innocent, my friend.” He snickered.
“Let’s just say I’m happy I have a date with the gym Saturday morning. Eating like this is setting me way back.”
“Says who?” He grabbed the remote and adjusted the volume.
“Says me is who,” I blurted.
“Whatever. Shush, the movie is starting.” When we were dating, Kem admitted to me he had gone through a slight gangster phase while he was a teen. He would watch gangster movies every day and often joked that the movie A Bronx Tale was our story glorified on the silver screen. I always reminded him that he was too tall and I was cuter than the girl in the movie.
My dinner had no chance of survival as I devoured it like a starved animal, but soon my body relaxed and my knees met my chest as I curled into the chair and watched the movie. Kem was completely enamored with the film filled with cocaine and violence. I found myself staring at his glossed-over eyes, watching the restaurant scene between Michelle Pfeiffer and Al Pacino play out. He never seemed to age. He had the same adorable, boyish looks that he’d had in college. Kem, who typically donned chic business suits, was dressed in a tank, khaki shorts, and boating shoes. There was not one day that passed on the walkways of the Texas A&M campus that a girl wouldn’t tumble over her feet drinking in his intoxicating green eyes, trim body, and sandy hair fluttering in the phantom Texas winds. The tattoos added a dimension of sexiness that even I drooled over, elated that he was mine to explore on a daily, and nightly, basis.
Laying my head back against the soft leather of the chair, the memory of our last conversation flooded me. Kem said I knew better than to accuse him of infidelity? Kem was right when he said he didn’t cheat. I was his world and he would never disrespect me. There were moments when he would look at me working in the garden or sitting out by the pond and his face would glow brighter than any star in the sky. Now that I think about it, his gaze never even lingered on another woman. I guess after all the time I spent alone, when the phone calls and texts started I didn’t know what to believe. Maybe I should have believed my husband.
I felt his fingers run across my bangs, and then I looked into his eyes for a fleeting moment. My heart skipped a beat and my breath fevered inside my lungs. “Hey, are you okay, Vic?”
I grinned. “I’m fine. Just a bit chilly.” He stood, headed to one of the cabinets, and pulled out a knitted quilt. To feel him so close to my space increased my pulse immensely. He tucked the blanket in around my thighs and arms with his sweet lips only breaths away from my own. The nights that he would tuck his arms around me, planting kisses on my neck to warm all of my chills came to mind when I caught his gaze upon my own. The gap closed between miles of hurt and inches between our lips, the movie becoming a muffled blur, then in an instant the moment vanished as he returned to his seat, increasing the volume a few more decibels. Okay, not only are these Southern foods going to my hips, they are going to my head.
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br /> Once the movie ended, Kem decided to watch the news then the Tonight Show on the big screen. Having tossed and turned the previous night, coupled with the excitement of the day, I shut my eyes and listened to David Letterman countdown his Top Ten. When I opened my eyes after my lengthy blink, I was in Kem’s arms, traversing down the hallway toward the master suite. Too tired to make a fuss, I laid against his warmth feeling total comfort until he severed the connection by placing me in the bed. Not realizing I had woken, he pulled the comforter up around my shoulders, brushing my bangs off my brow. With my eyes closed, I awaited his lips to touch my flesh for the first time in almost a year, but the only thing that kissed me was the air swooshing after the door shut from his exit. For some reason I felt a bigger chill than I did in the media room. That night I slept like a baby.
I woke early the next morning and chose to soak in a bubble bath of country apple scent. Feeling relaxed and ready for the good news Sandra would deliver later in the day, I put on a sexy sleeveless beige dress with a pair of nude platform pumps. I flat ironed my hair making my straight strands brush against the exposed skin of my back. With it still being early, I decided to pay the favor back for all the cooking Kem had been doing during his stay and scrambled a few eggs and sautéed cut potatoes and bacon. Once the toast was buttered, I sat to eat, knowing that he would arrive in the kitchen within moments. Kem had been an early bird since I had known him, so even though I’d gotten up with the sun I was sure he was somewhere reading the paper.
The chime of the alarm sounded when I heard the front door open. Kem walked into the kitchen dressed in charcoal-colored Jacquard suit jacket and pants with a black buttoned shirt, sunglasses, and a fedora cocked near the back of his head. He reeked of cigarette smoke and liquor. “Oh great, you cooked breakfast and it looks wonderful.” I didn’t want to question his whereabouts, so I stood and offered a toothy grin before walking to the living room to retrieve my briefcase. As I crossed in front of him, he grasped my hand and turned me around. “You look amazing. Is there something special going on at work today?”
“No, nothing special. Just in a good mood I guess.” My iron-reinforced emotional gates were starting to close the slight opening that had appeared in my wall the night before, when he had taken me off guard by pulling me in against his chest. Kem fingered my choppy bangs away from my face and placed his lips to my temple, giving me the gift I wished for the night before. “Keep up the good mood, Vic, it looks great on you.” He released me, leaving me to ponder over what transpired in that moment while he started slopping food onto a plate. I stared at him as if he was a science project gone wrong. I slowly backed away, gathering my things and exiting the home in a whirlwind of emotions and confusion. I could blame it on the alcohol, but Kem doesn’t drink anything outside of wine.
Chapter Four
Since Sandra was coming to work after lunch, I spent my entire morning pondering Kem’s attire when he walked in. Obviously he was out the night before, but doing what was the question. Shaking the thought from my head, I started reviewing the finalized Peterson report when I heard Sandra’s chair shift at her desk. Why didn’t she come and tell me what happened at the OB appointment? “Sandra, could you come into my office please?” I decided to keep the demand professional until she entered my office, away from wondering ears.
Sandra stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. Her olive-colored skin was chalk white when she sat on the couch near the door. I stood and rushed to her side, thinking she had received bad news at the appointment. “Oh my God, is everything okay? Is the baby okay? Sandra, talk to me.” I was rambling as if she was carrying my child.
“The baby is great. Strong heartbeat,” she said, making me release a sigh of relief.
“So why the look of death? Are you not feeling well? Is it morning sickness? How are you doing?” Again with the rambling. I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t bouncing out of her seat like the day before.
“The thing is, Victoria, the baby is further along than I expected.” Her eyes glistened as I held my breath, waiting for an explanation to the problem at hand. “I’m thirteen weeks along,” she blurted before she fell against my chest in a ball of tears. What significance does thirteen weeks have? Thirteen weeks means roughly three months, and Carlos was away four months ago for an eight-week time span...oh my...no, it cannot be. “Sandra? What the hell do you mean thirteen weeks? There’s got to be an error somewhere.”
“The doctor said that there would be a week or so variance but the sonogram shows thirteen weeks,” she cried out.
“Well what do you have to say about that, Sandra? Is the baby thirteen weeks by your estimation?” She began to sob as if her life was ending. The thought that the couple had been trying desperately to have a child for years, with the failed attempts taking a toll on their marriage, and now a baby was on the way who was not fathered by Carlos made me want to lurch up my breakfast, but instead I held his unfaithful wife and my best friend in my arms until she had cried all her tears out.
Walking to the break room, I retrieved two bottles of water, leaning against one of the tables to catch my breath. In the six years that I had worked for Worshaw and Baines, my office was my place for solace in a building full of corporate executives, secretaries, and administrators. I rarely ventured around outside of my office unless I was in one of the multiple conference rooms for meetings and the like, but I stood taking in the inventory of the state-of-the-art break room, with chipped ice and water machines, designer coffee and soda machines, flat cooktop stove, dishwasher, and chocolate suede sofas. In that moment, I would give anything to continue my tour of the building I had been a part of for more than half a decade, the truth was I needed to get back to Sandra and help her deal with her impending future.
As I closed the door, I watched her lump of a body resting on the uncomfortable but beautiful cream-colored couch in my office. She appeared so frail and weak lying with her swollen eyes closed shut, with a light rumbling coming from her parted lips. Feeling the defeat oozing from Sandra’s aura, I sat at my desk letting her rest it off when I saw a text message on my cell.
“Hope you are still having a great Friday ~ K.”
I started to glow, thinking that Kem’s positivity was exactly what I needed.
“Not such a great day, but I will make it through ~ V.”
Considering we only had about an hour left in the work day, I decided to bite the bullet and rouse Sandra from her much-needed rest, but it was time to iron a few of her kinks out. Rubbing her eyes, sitting upright, she mumbled, “I didn’t realize I fell asleep.” I handed her the bottle of water, sitting on the couch next to her rubbing her shoulders, trying to console her through her time of need. “What are you going to do, Sandra?”
She let out a loud sigh. “I’m going to go home, take a hot bath, and prepare dinner for my family.”
I was confused. “So you’re not going to discuss this with your husband?” Sandra and I had had many talks on honesty and communication when it came to my marriage woes, so it should not have been any surprise that I thought she would tell Carlos the truth.
“Why would I do a stupid thing like that? I’m going to have this baby and not stress myself with the details. Carlos wants this baby just as much as I do, and both of our families are ecstatic. I will not ruin that with talks of a drunken lonely night I had while my husband was away.”
“Let me ask you this: do you know who the real father is?” I asked trying my hardest to have an understanding tone.
“Victoria,” she clamored, “it’s not like these drunken nights of sex are commonplace. It was a onetime occurrence. I can’t believe you would ask me something like that. Of course I know who the damn father is.”
“I was just asking a question. I wasn’t trying to be judgmental, but I can only wonder if he’s going to have any rights in this matter.” Sandra huffed and stood.
“It really doesn’t matter what he thinks because Carlos is going to be
father of this child. Now if you don’t mind, I really don’t want to discuss this any further. If you need anything, I will be at my desk.” My jaw hit the ground when she exited my office, but in an effort to be drama-free I tried my hardest to continue on with Peterson Report, which was an epic failure of an attempt. Sandra remained at her desk until it was time to leave. As soon as her desk lamp was switched off, I quietly shut down my computer and left for home.
The drive was the next thing that ruined my mood. I encountered the worst rush-hour traffic jam that I had seen all week. After I parked in my usual spot, I got out and walked through the house engaging in my usual routine. Flopping backward on my bed, I wanted my invisible butler or house assistant. I was in desperate need of a nice light meal and a hot bath. Without lifting my heavy head I said, “Come in, Kem.” He tickled his fingertips against the pads of my feet causing me to squirm rather than giggle.
“Wow, that bad of a day?” he questioned.
“Yes,” I stated, reduced to single word responses after putting my foot in my mouth with my last conversation with Sandra.
“Must have been terrible if we’re giving one word responses.” Ugh, I hate it when he reads my mind. He sat at the foot of the bed, sliding my foot onto his lap. The kneading of his thumb against my flesh was the best sensation I had felt in ages. “Tell me about it, Vic.”
“You don’t want to hear about my troubles. Well, they’re not really my troubles, but troubles nonetheless,” I uttered with moans mixed between each word. Kem was very good at tapping my sweet spot.
“Okay, I’ll be back in a second. Don’t move. Well, I can see you’re not going anywhere,” he said joking.
“No, don’t stop rubbing,” I pleaded as he left the room, heading into the master bathroom. Listening to the running water in the Jacuzzi garden tub, I chuckled. He always reads my mind. He then left the room, quickly returning with the bottle of wine from the previous night and two glasses. Kem poured a glass for me and instructed me to relax and slide into the bubble bath so we could talk. Choosing not to argue the point, I complied with his wishes and my overall wants.
Wronged Desires Page 4