Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  When the first presenter moved to the front of the room, I tried to focus, but I couldn’t think of anything with the purple pulsing blob staring at me.

  Kent’s face softened in my periphery. He knew I was mad, but I didn’t care. He gave me his sweetest look. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed. His apologies were just words now, meaningless words.

  I turned toward Dad, who had his head ducked into the papers in front of him, and flipped my head up to shoot bullets with my eyes again. Finally, I saw a sliver of fear in Kent’s eyes.

  Yes. He should be scared.

  Before I knew it, I was up at the front of the boardroom, passing out the projections. The financial statement was blown up on the white screen behind me. Everyone’s attention was on me, except for the operations manager from California. I’d met her before. I’d never met a straighter arrow then her. She had a broomstick so far up her butt, I swore the end of the broom would come out of her mouth.

  I knew the numbers and my speech by heart, so I said my spiel while her eyes flickered from Kent’s purple blob back to my face. She didn’t even try to hide the disgust behind her black-rimmed glasses. I tried to ignore her and continued speaking, but I felt her judgmental eyes on me, and then on him. My face heated, probably turning from red to purple, to compliment the bright color on his neck.

  When I finished, I answered a couple of questions and sat down. The meeting couldn’t end soon enough.

  After the last presenter, I gathered my belongings and rushed out of the boardroom. I felt his presence behind me before I saw him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching for my waist.

  I didn’t bother to answer him, because what I had to say couldn’t be heard by other people. My heels clicked down the hall to the elevator bank. Since it was only the two of us now, I was no longer embarrassed. I was insanely mad, and he was about to feel the wrath of the crazy wife once we stepped into the elevators.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” he repeated, but I could still sense the amusement in his voice.

  I pushed his hand away from my waist. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  “Honey, come on.” His fingertips grazed my hip as we waited for the elevators to open. “You’re the one who gave me the hickey.”

  His damn dimple emerged on his cheek, which infuriated me. My insides were screaming to punch him in the gut, and it took all my self-control to keep it together.

  With my fists clenched at my sides, I flipped to face him, my anger barely contained. “Are you serious right now? I did it to teach you a lesson. To embarrass you just like you embarrassed the heck out of me yesterday.” My nostrils flared and internal temperature rose ten notches. “Fine! Whatever, I should’ve known you wouldn’t care, but you knew. You knew this would embarrass me. You’d knew I’d care. Why would you just flaunt it, knowing how I would feel? Why?” I yelled, my emotions coming to the surface.

  A few people eyed us, then turned toward the other elevator bank.

  I sighed angrily. “We’ll talk about this at home,” I said, my voice low and menacing.

  His smile disappeared. “Come on, baby, you know I don’t like fighting.”

  I stepped into the elevator and he followed. As soon as the doors shut, he pulled the emergency button, causing the elevator to jolt to a stop. “I’m sorry,” he said again, inching forward, cornering me against the back of the elevator.

  I put up both hands to stop him and shook my head. I would not let his magic fingers ruin my resolve and lessen my anger.

  “I thought it was your way of staking your claim, letting everyone know I’m yours,” he said in his defense. “What’s so wrong if I wanted everyone to know I’m exclusively yours?”

  “You think this is funny?” My hands clenched by my side. “You think I don’t take my job seriously? Everyone else thinks I just got the job because I’m sleeping with the boss’s son. You just confirmed it.”

  “Beth, calm down.” His voice lowered as his hand reached for me, but I stepped away.

  “Calm down?” My voice rose higher than the emergency bell ringing around us. “You calm down! I worked hard at everything in my life and you should know, out of everyone, that work is important to me.”

  “You didn’t get this job because you’re sleeping with me,” he insisted. “My father offered you the job because you underwrote this company at Financial State Bank. You know about the company, the numbers and how our business works. He offered you the job, not me, and he offered it to you because he knows you’re capable and that one day this company will be ours. Baby, please. I’m so sorry,” he begged, though he didn’t dare touch me; he knew better.

  I didn’t think I’d ever been this mad before. My fingers pressed the elevator button to continue our decent to the first floor. When the doors opened, he stayed silent as a light bulb went off brightly in my head. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? Giving him a hickey hadn’t been revenge. Punishment would be taking away the one thing he loved the most, the same as any parent taking something that their child valued above all things.

  I turned to face him, my voice dead serious. “No sex.”

  He froze. The look on his face was epic. Shell shocked would be a perfect description. I stepped out and left him in the elevator, flabbergasted, as the doors closed on him.

  #

  After work, Kent had tried to apologize, but I wouldn’t have it. I had set the goal that I would ground him for three whole days and I would not budge.

  “Beth, you can’t be serious.” He stepped into our condo right behind me, hanging up his jacket and then mine in the hallway closet. “I said I’m sorry.” I could hear the whine in his voice and I tried my best not to laugh.

  In our bedroom, I flipped on the lights and strutted into our walk-in closet, purposely swaying my hips. I could feel his eyes on my behind, where I knew they would be.

  Full of purpose, I bent down to take off my heels and placed them on the shoe rack. And slowly, ever so slowly, I started to peel down my pantyhose from my legs.

  Kent’s eyes focused on my hands moving down my pantyhose, from my waist, to my thighs, my legs, and then off. And then the other, until the pantyhose were in a heap on the floor. I slipped off my skirt and was left with my black lace pantie.

  Seductively, I started to unbutton my white top, one button and then two as his eyes followed my fingertips down my shirt.

  His eyes darkened, and inside I smiled. Kryptonite. That was what I was.

  He inched closer when I dropped my white shirt onto the floor, now wearing only my black lace bra and panties. When I turned to reach into the dresser for a t-shirt, he pressed himself flush against me, his hands pressing against the bare of my stomach.

  “Please. Baby. I apologized.” He nuzzled my neck, and I weakened, molding to him, my body failing me. “I just meant it to be funny. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Want filled his voice as he flicked his tongue from my collarbone to the spot behind my ears. “It will never happen again,” he whispered, making every part of my body hyperaware of him behind me. “Never.” He nibbled my earlobe, sending a tingle to every fiber of my being.

  I turned around and wrapped my arms around his neck, grabbing his hair and rubbing my breasts against his crisp button down. And then I kissed him, shoving my tongue in his mouth until he was hard as a rock and moaning against my lips. But when his hands moved to my lace panties, I stepped away, leaving him breathless, his eyes telling me he wanted more.

  “No sex.” I smiled a sinister smile. I would have stuck my tongue out for good measure if I wasn’t a grown adult. This time, my mind was stronger than my body. I bent down to grab the t-shirt off the floor, then slipped it over my head.

  He huffed from frustration. “You’re my wife.” He moved in closer, but I didn’t want to test my self-control. If he touched me again, I might crumble.

  “Don’t come closer,” I commanded.

  There was a glint of determination in his eye. Although I was his kryp
tonite, he knew his touch was my weakness.

  He came so close our bodies were barely not touching. He had me cornered. “I’m sorry, baby. So, so sorry. I love you.” His warm breath brushed against my cheek.

  My eyes fell shut as I tried to erase his handsomeness, which was so tempting and only a breath away. When I opened them, I ducked under his arms to escape him, then ran to the other side of the room. “Don’t touch me or I swear I’ll prolong this.”

  His eyebrows shot to the top of his head, his sexy look erased. “Baby, you can’t be serious.”

  “See this?” I pointed to my face and gave him an I-am-not-messing-around glare. “You’ll be the first to die of blue balls, I’m so serious.” Then I turned toward the kitchen.

  Conversation over.

  That night in bed, Kent didn’t touch me, nor did he come near me. I applauded his restraint. I thought for sure he’d stepped up his game. But from his silence treatment during dinner, and the way he had stomped into the bathroom to get ready for bed, I could tell he was pissed. And the fact that he was pissed when it was his fault to begin with raised my anger scale five notches.

  The sheets ruffled beside me as he tossed and turned in bed. I knew he was burning a hole in the center of my bare back with his eyes. I was wearing the tiniest nightie on purpose. My punishment had to be harsh so that he ultimately took me seriously.

  I heard him turn over and sigh. After an hour of restlessness, he huffed, got up, and stomped out of our bedroom like a two-year-old toddler.

  As my eyes focused on the ceiling, I sighed. I didn’t like fighting with him, but he had to stop thinking work was a joke to me, that just because I was married to the boss’s son didn’t mean I didn’t love my job and respect it. He needed to separate work from our home life, and it needed to start now if he was going to be the CEO of Plack Industries one day.

  The rest of the evening, my eyes were closed, but I didn’t get an ounce of sleep without the warmth of my husband next to me.

  When I walked into the kitchen the next morning, Kent was in his typical spot, reading the Wall Street Journal. My breakfast and coffee were made and set at my spot at the table. The only break from our daily routine was Kent’s noisy breaths and the hardness in his eyes. He was still irritated.

  When he handed me my coffee mug at the door, he barely glanced in my direction. I clenched my jaw and pushed up my nose at his reaction. How dare he be mad at me when he was the one that started it?

  I sounded immature; I didn’t care.

  The drive to Plack Industries was short and silent. Once we entered the building, we headed our separate ways. When I glanced up from my computer again, it was lunchtime. I didn’t even wait for Kent to get me for lunch. I walked outside, turned the corner, and had lunch by myself, all alone, at the cafe down the street.

  He didn’t even try to call me to tell me that we were no longer doing lunch, which didn’t improve my mood. I checked my phone twice and no missed calls, which heated my insides with anger. I didn’t want to have lunch with him, but I would have liked for him to take the initiative to ask me.

  When I returned to my office, there, plopped up on my keyboard, sat a blue Tiffany box.

  Seriously? This boy had no clue. You couldn’t buy forgiveness.

  I peered into the velvet blue box to see a round solitaire diamond necklace with tiny blue sapphires outlining the diamond. My fingers grazed the precious stone. It was beautiful. I had to give Kent that. He had good taste.

  I shut the box, placed it in a manila envelope, and walked down the hall to Dad’s office, handing it to his secretary.

  “Jenny, can you make sure that Mrs. Plack gets this? Tell her it’s from her son.”

  Kent spoiled his mother constantly. Although now that I was in the picture, he spoiled me more. Mom wouldn’t even think twice about his gift. That woman was spoiled by both Plack men, but she was the one person that deserved everything she got.

  After work, when I didn’t say anything in the car, or on our way home, I could sense Kent’s anger brewing, most likely at my record silence, not even mentioning the jewelry he’d bought me.

  What did he want me to do? Jump into his arms and spread my legs? Forget all that had happened to begin with? All because he’d bought me a diamond necklace, a necklace that his secretary had probably picked up during lunch?

  Oh. Hell. No.

  That evening, he didn’t even try to sleep next to me, and this time I didn’t think I could get any more ticked off. I tossed and turned and tossed and turned. I couldn’t sleep. Finally, at two in the morning, I pretended I was thirsty and headed to the kitchen. I knew he’d be asleep on the couch and was surprised when he wasn’t.

  When I stepped into the family room, he was lying under the comforter on the couch, his eyes focused directly at the ceiling above him.

  When he heard me enter, his eyes flipped to meet mine, and I staggered to a stop. My stomach dropped. In the span of brown staring back at me, there was no anger. Only sadness and distance. All of a sudden, my heart ached.

  We stared at each other for several long seconds, my whole being wanting to fling myself across the room, into his arms, where I belonged. But I couldn’t. He’d never take me or work seriously if I caved now.

  So, painfully, I was the first to tear my eyes away. Slowly, I trudged to get water, went back to our room, climbed into my bed, and hugged my pillow tightly against myself, wishing that I was hugging my husband instead.

  The next day, day two of punishment, Kent was no longer angry but sluggish. When I stepped into the kitchen before we left for work, his head and eyes tipped down toward the floor as he handed me my coffee mug. He followed me out of our condo, to the garage, and into the car without a word. The heaviness in my heart intensified as he drove us to the office, and I noticed his eyes were red and the dark bags were noticeably prominent because of his lack of sleep. I had applied a ton of concealer to my under eyes because I wasn’t doing any better.

  When he opened the door, I stepped ahead of him into Plack’s headquarters. As I took in his profile, I knew I couldn’t work the whole day with this tension building between us. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.

  When we turned to go our separate ways, I pulled him ever so slightly toward me and tiptoed to peck him on the lips, fast and quick, just to feel his warmth for a brief second.

  His hands reach for me, but I painfully pulled away.

  “See you later.” A lump formed in the back of my throat, making it difficult to breathe.

  His eyes softened in a sad way, telling me he missed me. His shoulders drooped and he stood there in the middle of the entryway, watching me walk into my part of the building.

  After I stepped into my office and shut the door, I busied myself with work. At noon, I received an email from Kent, telling me that he was having lunch with a client. My heart dropped. I missed him so terribly much that I doubted my ability to keep this punishment up for another day.

  It wasn’t just about the lack of sex. It was our lack or conversation, the lack of companionship and intimacy I missed.

  Three days tops, I reminded myself.

  Tomorrow night, I’d cook him dinner and we’d lock ourselves in our bedroom for hours.

  I frowned at my computer, grabbed my wallet, and slipped on my jacket to go to lunch. When I came back, four separate vases of twenty-four inch red roses sat on my desk. I picked up the first small white card tucked between the roses and smiled.

  I’m sorry.

  I picked up the next one.

  I love you.

  And the next.

  I miss you.

  And finally the last, which my made my heart sink to my toes.

  I miss us.

  A frown touched my mouth, and I stared at the four vases in front of me. I wondered if I was taking this punishment too far. I should’ve just called him and told him were good and all was forgiven.

  I sighed … One day more. I could do it. I set this punishment
and I needed to stick to it. If it wasn’t for him, it was for me to know that I could do it.

  After I opened my desk and stuffed the white cards inside, I carried two vases of roses, one on each arm, walked out of my office, and place them on the desks of the first two women I saw in our accounting department. Returning to my office, I grabbed the other two vases and walked to Carl and Jim’s desk and gave each to the two men. “Please give these to your wives.”

  They all smiled and thanked me, saying nothing else because they knew full well they were from Kent and he was in the doghouse. I was sure everyone in the office, even though most of them had not been in the boardroom that day, knew of Kent’s little display during the quarterly meeting. Word usually traveled fast through the office. I always tried to stay away from the gossip at work, but now I was the source of that gossip. That alone should keep me mad, but all I felt was an empty pang in the middle of my chest as I thought of the distance between us lately.

  I shut my door and ducked my head into my computer screen for the rest of the day.

  Day three of punishment could also be renamed ‘The Day of Torment’. In the office, Kent’s solemn demeanor heightened as he trudged into the building. Before we parted and went our separate ways to our offices, he held me tighter, not wanting to let go. I weakened in his hold and swallowed as the pain in the back of my throat intensified, but I extracted myself from his warm embrace anyway. I had to stick this out.

  Heat had rushed behind my eyes as I stormed into my office and shut the door.

  After the next few hours, I couldn’t think about anything except us. Finally, I stood before I drove myself mad staring at the computer screen in front of me. I headed to the kitchen to get my third cup of coffee, but my feet stopped when I heard the high-pitched voice of one of our marketing execs talking about Kent yelling at his secretary. My whole body tensed as I ducked my head, but it was too late. The two ladies spotted me before I could get any more information.