by Amy Lynn
Smiling, he settled back into the chair. He took a large swallow of the clear liquid, the lime wedge falling against his upper lip, his Adams apple dancing in his throat as the contents slid down. He wiped a droplet of his drink from his lip with his thumb and smiled back at me. “As do I, yet I’ve had two with you.”
“And?”
He leaned in as I had done moments ago fixing me with his stare. “It seems my ability to make rational decisions while in your company has been severely compromised.”
“Is that what you say to all the girls?”
“Maybe.”
“Does it work?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll never tell.” He set his lips to the glass and downed the remaining contents, setting the glass onto the table without ever taking his eyes off me. He stared at me long and hard as if silently willing me to understand something, then pushed away from the table, his eyes glittering with… what? I had no clue.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening Ava.”
I nodded. “You too, Abram.”
He strode past me re-buttoning his suit jacket, the tight coil in my stomach easing slightly as he disappeared from my vision. My shoulders sighed a relief, and a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding left my lungs in a rush. Jesus! What the hell was that?
A set of lips were suddenly next to my ear, followed by a pair of hands settling on my shoulders that I knew instantly were not Brad’s.
“I must know, Ava. Did it work on you?”Abram asked.
Turning my head, I met his eyes. “You’ll never know.”
He smiled, searching the depth of my eyes for a moment before straightening. “Touché,” he mumbled and walked away.
Trying to resist my mind’s current thoughts, I nervously tucked a lock of hair behind my ear as my eyes shifted to the entrance. Brad stood in the doorway, eyes on me, his face set in question, his eyes moving between Abram and me.
My stomach instantly dropped, and I broke out into a cold sweat. Shit!
Brad gave me a quick kiss hello when he approached the table, and immediately threw a thumb in Abram’s direction. “Was that Abram Kent leaving our table?”
How did he…?
Well, this just got interesting.
I could not and would not lie to Brad. “Um, yeah. I met him at Caroline’s event Saturday evening. He was just saying hello.” I cleared my throat and asked, “How do you know him?”
Brad’s jaw flexed, and I heard his teeth grind together. Looking down at me with his brows drawn together, he slowly trailed his thumb down my right cheek to my chin, changing the angle of my face. He kissed me again, but much differently this time. His lips were parted, my bottom lip encased by his. His tongue lightly tracing
my seam, his hold on my chin tightening in approval when our tongues met. His hand instantly moves to the base of my neck to pull me further into him, the kiss deep and seductive.
Fire shot through me, and for a moment, I forgot where we were. The restaurant didn’t exist, nor did the tables of people surrounding us. Brad rarely kissed me in public and never like this. He pulled away breathless. His eyes locked onto the moisture that glistened on my lips, and he ran his thumb across it wiping it away. Everything slowly came back into focus around me.
My cheeks flamed red. “Jesus, Brad. What was that all about?” I suspected the reason was just a few feet away….
“I missed you,” he said inches from my face. “And I love you.”
I touched his cheek. “Me too.”
He straightened and took his seat opposite me. Taking a sip of my water, I let my eyes wander for anyone who may have seen our rather inappropriate PDA and nearly choked when my eyes fell on Abram Kent near the bar, his eyes firmly locked in our direction. Awkward!
I quickly looked away. “So, how was your day?” I asked Brad.
“Good. And even better now,” he winked back at me.
The waiter came by and took our drink order, and a few minutes later our entrée order.
“So, any luck on finding a job today?” he asked.
“No. Caroline has a few calls in though.”
Nodding, he added, “That’s great. Hopefully you will hear something soon.”
The waiter returned with our dinner, and Brad and I fell into a comfortable discussion, talking about silly mundane things married
couples talk about. I was curious how Brad knew Abram and for a brief moment, I wondered if he was still at the bar, but I never allowed my eyes to go there. I just enjoyed the moment with my husband and the rare treat of him being so flirty with me.
“Would you like dessert tonight?”
“No,” I said shaking my head. “I couldn’t eat…” My words caught in my throat when my eyes met his, sparkling and lustful.
“That’s too bad,” he whispered. “I was looking rather forward to dessert.”
I really didn’t know what had gotten into Brad. Maybe it was Abe. Either way, I liked it. I liked it a lot.
“Did Mitchell bring you to the restaurant tonight?
“Yes.”
Brad smiled,“Perfect.” Signaling the waiter for the check, he threw down some cash and within minutes, we were climbing into Brad’s BMW.
“I had a nice time with you tonight,” he said as his hand found mine in the darkness. “I’m really sorry I didn’t go with you to Caroline’s event, and I promise you, it won’t happen again.”
I squeezed his hand. “It's okay.”
The rest of the drive home was silent, a good silence filled with thoughts about what lie ahead. The anticipation alone was enough to send me over the edge, and I swallowed hard when Brad turned into our driveway twenty minutes later, the garage door opening for us to park inside.
Brad and I exited the car, the garage door closing with a thump of finality. Brad pulled me to him and gave me a passionate kiss, holding nothing back. His lips feverish as they moved from my lips to my cheek, trailing kisses to my ear. “Stay away from Abram Kent.” He whispered and kissed me again on the shell of my ear. “Please, Ava. Promise me.”
I stilled at the mention of his name. Why are we talking about Abram Kent? Was this really the reason he was being so flirty and affectionate? He was jealous?
“Ava?”
I let out a frustrated breath at Brad’s ability to kill the mood, as my arousal reduced to a barely there flame. “Do you not trust me?”
Brad shook his head. “It’s him I don’t trust.”
“How do you know him?” Finally asking the question I had wondered about all night.
“The cocky asshole I told you about at work? That’s him.” Brad swept his hand across my cheek. “Promise me, Ava,” he repeated. “Please.”
“I promise.”
Chapter 4
Ava
Another month has come and gone, and I’m still unemployed. I’ve attended numerous events of Caroline’s to keep my sanity, and while meeting lots of new people, I find myself lonely most days. Despite his promise to me, Brad has only attended one event. I didn’t know what frustrated me more; Brad’s broken promise or still being jobless.
About 1:30 in the afternoon, I received a random call from Caroline. “Do you remember that lady I introduced you to at the ‘Support the Troops’ event? Short, petite blonde, pixie hair cut?” She asked
“Um, no, not really. Why?”
“Well, her name is Mia Hart, and she has agreed to take your application under consideration.”
My heart leaped. “Seriously?”
“Yes, her assistant is taking maternity leave at the end of the month, and she is in desperate need of a replacement. Now, I know it’s not permanent, but maybe it could lead to something more promising in the future.”
“Caroline, I don’t know what to say.”
“A simple thank you is quite enough.”
“Thank you, Caroline.”
The rest of the afternoon, I was so excited that I could barely sit still. Later that night, I bustled around the kitchen, preparing a steak d
inner and nearly bursting at the seams to reveal my exciting news to Brad. I remained tight-lipped while Brad spilled the events of his not-so-good workday. I waited for the perfect time to announce my news.
“And Abram Kent!” Brad said, shaking his head in disgust.
“What happened with him?” I asked curiously while I prepped two potatoes to bake.
“First, he catches a mistake I made, which really didn’t bother me too much. It was just the way he had to point it out to everyone in the meeting, like I was some kind of dumbass for making it in the first place. Then he advised his father to consider Derek’s proposal over mine, even though both were nearly identical.”
I washed my hands, drying them on a towel while I made my way over to him. He sat at the table visibly defeated. I put my arms around his shoulders from behind and kissed him lightly on the cheek. I added, “Abram Kent is an ass.”
Brad squeezed my forearms in appreciation and turned his head to kiss me on the lips.
“You know, he talks about you every time he sees me.”
“What?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure he’s got a thing for you, Ava.”
“Brad, no.”
He met my eyes and smiled. “Sure you don’t want to jump ship? See if the grass is greener?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “He’s an attractive guy,” he taunted.
While Brad was handsome in his own way, he was no Abram Kent. Abram was in a class all his own, and everyone made that clear at one of Caroline’s charity auctions. The area’s most successful bachelors were auctioned off to raise money for cancer research. Abram brought in $25,100.00 from Monica Hurley, after she outbid Elizabeth Stanfield at the last minute. There were a total of ten guys auctioned off that night, and if you combined them all, they couldn’t meet Abram’s high bid. Not even close. This was true. The women of Chicago had spoken, and Abram Kent was the object of their fantasy.
“No, I don’t,” I leaned down and whispered into his ear. “Besides you’re way hotter.”
Brad spun quickly, catching me around the waist and pulling me down into his lap. “Liar.”
He smiled a teasing smile and kissed me, his tongue lightly brushing against mine. “If you’re going to lie, at least be good at it.”
I stroked the light stubble covering his cheek, and he kissed me again, longer this time.
“I love you, Ava.”
“I love you too, Brad.”
Placing a quick kiss on my lips, he lifted me from his lap, and swatted me on the behind when I landed on my feet. “Now go tend to my dinner, woman, before you burn it.”
I took two steps and was snapped across the ass with the towel I had left on the table.
“Hey!” I said. “You’re going pay for that!”
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” he provoked as he got up from his chair, smile all big and flirty. I knew he was coming after me, and I positioned myself protectively behind the kitchen island.
Brad shook his head. “You’re not safe from me,” he said and took off running towards me. I squealed when his hands closed around my waist, spinning me around restraining my hands behind my back. He kissed me passionately, his grip on my hands falling away so he could tangle them in my hair. He broke away from me breathless, his face flushed, and his chest heaving from the chase. “I want you.”
“What are you going do about it?”
He threw me over his shoulder caveman style. “You’re about to find out.”
An hour later, we smelled smoke.
“Yep,” Brad said looking into the oven at the charred meat. “It’s toast.”
“Not everything’s ruined,” I said as I pulled a strawberry cheesecake out of the refrigerator, placing it on the table and handing him a fork. “Dig in,” I arched a serious brow at him, “and stay on your side.”
“I always do.”
“Hardly!” I protested and took another bite.
Between the lovemaking and the cheesecake, I had nearly forgotten about my good news.
“I have an interview,” I said. “Tomorrow afternoon.”
Brad lifted his cheesecake-loaded fork to my lips, and I took his offering. “I knew you’d find something. Congratulations, Wifey. I’m proud of you.”
As I walked down the street Saturday afternoon for my interview, I realized I had more spring in my step, and I was a kind of happy that I hadn’t been in a while. I couldn’t deny I was a little depressed these days, mostly due to being cooped up in the house all day.
I’d be lying if I said some of it wasn’t caused by Brad. I’d been feeling neglected by him lately, especially when it came to his lack of desire to escort me to Caroline’s charity functions. He also had a few late nights at the office, which most times left him tired and cranky. That ultimately led to his lack of sexual desire, which in turn, lead to my crankiness and sexual frustration. I’ve been trying to stay positive, and the idea of having a job to go to everyday awakened a part of me that has recently been overtaken by a darkness I wish I hadn’t known. Today I prayed that dark cycle would meet its bitter end.
I paused when church bells chimed through the air from the church across the street. Identical magenta pink dresses lined one side of the steps; black bow ties with crisp white shirts lined the opposite, with a collection of people waiting in anticipation. The doors swung open and applause rang out as the happy couple made their debut as husband and wife. The groom looked adoringly down at his bride, and the moment she looked up and met his eyes, he kissed her. Their kiss was eager and passionate even from this distance, lingering on far longer than what some may consider appropriate. Iridescent bubbles swirled and surrounded them, and while that might be cliché for some, it was way more than I ever had.
I married Bradley Lauren on a Monday evening in the living room of my parent’s home. Our parents and the minister were the only attendees, and it was raining. Storming actually. We lost power during the “ceremony” and had to say the remainder of our vows in the dark. Lightening striking beyond the windows gave us occasional glimpses of one another, while thunder rumbled the floor beneath our feet.
My father held my simple wide gold band, Brad’s mother held his. When the moment came, dad handed my ring over to Brad, a scowl between his eyebrows, looking pissed. Brad’s mom, a look of dissatisfaction and disappointment when she handed me Brad’s ring, and no doubt the reason behind my father’s scowl.
We spent our honeymoon at a nearby hotel and ordered takeout. Brad watched sports center while I read, both of us falling asleep two feet away from one another. There was no first dance, no cake cutting and feeding each other that first bite or keeping the top to freeze and enjoy on our first anniversary. There were no congratulations, no celebration, and no well wishes for a happy marriage. Nothing. Like it never happened.
But that didn’t make our marriage or vows to one another any less real. I was Mrs. Bradley Lauren, for better or worse. Till death parted us.
Despite my distraction at the church, I still managed to enter the office building of Mia Hart thirty minutes early. While I took pride in my punctuality, arriving thirty minutes early to an interview sounded desperate, and well, I was.
A tall three-sided directory listing of names stood tall at the entrance, and after a brief search, I verified my twelfth floor information.
Mia Hart—Twelve-A.
Giving the board another quick glance, I turned in search of the elevator then stopped dead in my tracks.
My brain identified something familiar and I felt momentarily confused until I turned and faced the board scanning for what my eyes overlooked but my brain hadn’t.
Mia Hart—Twelve-A
Abram Kent—Twelve-B
Oh, no.
Not only did Abram work in the same building, he shared office space with Mia Hart.
This could not be happening. Brad’s words echoed in my ears. “Stay away from Abram Kent. Promise me.”
And I did. I had made a promise to Brad. But could I just ignore
how much I wanted and needed this job, not only for my own sanity, but my own self worth?
Either way I had to go through with the interview. Not only would I disgrace my own name by choosing to abandon our appointment, Caroline had arranged the meeting with Mia, and I couldn’t do that to her for her kind generosity.
I smiled warmly at the receptionist I had overlooked on my way in and made my way to the elevator pressing the silver disk for the twelfth floor.
The office was bright and open, two desks sat opposite each other, defining the space into two specific sides. My eyes land on the closed door of B, a silver plaque fixed to the door, knowing the name Abram Kent was written there without needing to read it.