Love You...Never

by Francesca Penn

  Cher shrugs and singsongs. “Your body knows the truth.”

  It does. The thought of his mouth doing something to me other than flinging insults my way has me heated.

  Emiliano

  “Congratulations, bestie! You made it over a week, and both of you are still alive!” Amy chirps into the phone.

  I shake my head and roll to my side. “First of all, don’t call be bestie. I’m a grown man and not a teenage girl. Two, no matter how much you beg. I’m not getting out of bed right now. Especially, not to brunch and lingerie shop like two housewives of whatever.”

  “Here’s the thing. Connor has seen and run through all my options, and I cannot do my photo shoot naked tomorrow. Pleeeeeeeeeeease! I’ll even pay for brunch and you know I never pay.” That was a true statement. She hasn’t paid for a meal in my presence since we linked up in each other’s lives.

  “Um…no.”

  “Emiliano Tomás Morín! Don’t make me threaten you!”

  “With what, dear?”

  “I will march into Thrills and Frills and tell Caris everything I know…”

  My blood pressure rises. Amy knows enough to embarrass the hell out of me.

  “You wouldn’t…”

  “Would! Because this is something I want to do for my love, Milano. Have a heart.”

  “Don’t “Milano” me now, you filthy rat,” I rail without nearly enough bite. I whimper internally as I climb out of my haven. I give in but with my demands. “You’re driving. I’m ordering the most expensive thing I can find. I’ll only eat a little of it and refuse a to-go box…”

  My doorbell rings. I pad through the house and swing my door open to find a little ball of light brown and hazel mischief. I grab the coffee from my favorite place out of her hand.

  “I was sooooo confident you’d agree I got your favorite!” she announces --all smiles.

  I give her a side-eye while I drink. “I should make your ass stand outside,” I state as I turn. Amy bounds all five feet and three inches of her body onto my back as I walk to my room. “What did I tell you about pony rides? You’re a grown ass woman with a whole husband.”

  “Just giddy-up and let’s go!” she yells as she fist-pumps the air. “There are perks with having such a big strong friend. I get to feel like a kid again.”

  I walk at a not-so-enthusiastic pace. “Is this what Connor deals with every day?”

  “No, Connor is big but not as big as you?”

  I place my cup on the dresser and lock eyes with her in the mirror. “Everywhere?” I waggle my brows at her.

  Laughing when she punches me in the back, I flip her on my bed and keep moving to my closet. It’s definitely a sweatpants and long sleeve shirt kind of day.

  “I meant tall. You’re 6’3, and he’s 5’11. He is plenty big in other places.”

  “I’m just fucking with you. I really don’t care,” I assert while stepping into my sweats.

  “I know, but I would not be married and doing all of this for a small dick.”

  “Not even if you really, really love that small dick?” I shake my head. “Women.” Amy watches as I pull on my shirt.

  “I guess it’s an internal debate a woman will never have to worry about with you. And did you get an additional ab?”

  “Stop staring at my body; I might start to think you want another ride,” I tease as I score a pair of socks from the dresser.

  “It doesn’t hurt to look. You are prime real estate, but I’ve been there, done that. Nooooo, thanks.”

  I pause mid-sock application? “Are you saying I’m bad in bed?”

  She shrugs and snuggles with a pillow. “Not in the physical sense. The stuff you did felt good.”

  I continue putting on my socks. “But?” I prompt. This is a new conversation. I’m interested to see where this is going.

  Amy flushes a little. “Honestly?” she asks.

  “I wouldn’t want anything less,” I respond. I begin unlacing my sneakers.

  “You’re emotionally checked out. I’m not just talking about the we’re-single-and-bored-let’s-screw phase. Even when we were a couple…” She pauses, and I’m almost scared to hear the next thing that’s about to come out of her mouth. “I used to wonder if you had to picture Caris to get off.”

  Her statement slaps me with a force that causes me to drop my shoe. What she said is so wrong and true on so many levels, it makes me ache.

  The main issue in my head is I wasn’t a good boyfriend to the only girlfriend I’ve ever had. “I’m sorry, Aims. I really tried to love you.”

  Amy had the faraway look a person gets when they remember something that used to be painful. “I know that now. It used to hurt my nineteen-year-old soul. I felt inadequate.” She gives me a sad smile. “As I got older, I realized that it wasn’t me, you were emotionally checked out in general.” Her smile brightens. “Then I thought, ‘I am the great Emiliano Morín’s longest running girlfriend.’”

  I laugh. “You were my only girlfriend.”

  She nods big. “Exactly! All those bitches threw all kind of twat tricks at you, and you didn’t keep not one of them. Which makes me a bad bitch.”

  I high-five her. “The baddest.” I stand and pull her into a bear hug. “I may have had Caris on my mind more than I should, but I never not once pictured her while having sex with you.”

  “That means you have with others…,” she goads. I let her go and head to my bathroom.

  “Now, that is none of your business.” I laugh through the door.

  Alone in my bathroom, I let what Amy revealed fully sink in and take root. Every woman I’ve encountered is living in the shadow of the woman I both hate and can’t have. Could all of them feel the same detachment of my hollow heart? I think long and hard while I brush my teeth and wash my face. Do I want a relationship? Do I want children? Have I been foolish with placing all my hopes and dreams into one teenage girl? Is my hate and anger eating me and keeping me from the forever love I deserve?

  I fear that the only way I can get over Caris is through her. She has an impenetrable force field of hate, but I still don’t know why she’s mad. I stare at myself in the mirror. Maybe I should stop responding like the hurt eighteen-year-old and show her the almost thirty-year-old man I’ve become. If I can tip her into the hate sex range, maybe I can exorcise her from my blood once and for all.

  Chapter 6

  Caris

  I don’t usually work on the weekend at one of my locations, but this past week with Emiliano makes me feel out of touch with the stores and products. I make Cher tag along for a brainstorming session. She maintains that she is only in if she can pass out champagne to the of-age guests and drink with them. I negotiate to one glass before we open, and she doesn’t have to fold or restock. We are having a good time with the employees and guests. I laugh more than I have since Emiliano appeared. The more I consider, the more the “hate sex” argument has merit. If we are so volatile because we were both sexually attracted to each other and don’t know how to handle it, sex would cure it. I just need to find an opening…

  “Ma’am. If that Hispanic gentleman works here, I’ll buy undergarments weekly!”

  “What guy?” I’m amused by the older lady’s blush, but I don’t have any male employees in the store.

  “He’s tall, with wavy hair, dreamy eyes, and the cutest lips.” I sigh inside. That seems to be the standard description of Emiliano. I’m not surprised he’s in the store. He would have to see a storefront eventually.

  “What’s he doing besides looking good?” I lean onto the courter.

  “He’s helping women pick the right underwear for their body! He has a really good eye.”

  This, I gotta see. “I’ll go check it out and see if he needs a job.” I wink at her as she leaves. I text Cher because I have no idea where she’s hiding.

  She meets me in the lingerie fitting area, and I try to dry up my drool and channel my irritation. Emiliano doesn’t see us because we stop at a di
stance that allows us to be in earshot without him fully noticing our presence. He’s in lounge clothes that show you almost everything he has underneath – I trace the muscles in his arms, chest, and abs down to his sweats – everywhere.

  A busty brunette batt her lashes at him as he explains the importance of having a bra fit properly. He shows her the perfect bra that will lift and separate her girls without them spilling out. She disappears and tries on the bra. He plays with his phone until she comes out in the bra to get his opinion. He nods and turns her to adjust the straps until the bra fits perfectly.

  “See?” he says to her in accented English. “Look how good your boobs look in this bra! Perfecto. Put on your t-shirt so you can see the difference.” The lady pulls on her shirt and twirls happily. He smiles at her. “You feel sexy, I can tell. See the difference the right underwear can make?”

  I shake my head. He really does know his stuff.

  “Now let’s talk panties,” he begins. “You have a long torso. You do not, and I repeat, do not, want low rise. The only thing those will do is make your torso look longer and give, you a muffin top you do not have. Plus, you want to enhance the curve of your butt.” He rubs his stubble. “I suggest a high-waist Brazilian, cheeky, or tanga cut. I saw some nice ones over there that crisscross. They start high to shorten your torso but cross down to a V. That will make you look curvier, and the high-cheek will make your bottom look fuller. Solid for a little curve and patterned to look even curvier.” She thanks him profusely and turns to go back into her changing room. “No problem. Oh, add a little lace for an extra bang. Your husband will not know what hit him.”

  Cher fans herself when he tosses out one of his megawatt smiles to the lady. “He does know panties,” she whispers. “Please tell me you’ve considered letting him remove yours.”

  He returns to his phone and starts typing away. I’m not sure why he’s here, but the lady he helped went to the register with her arms loaded up with bras and panties. I’m not mad at that at all.

  I am just about to tell her that, yes, maybe I will, when I hear a familiar voice. “Okay, Milano. What do you think about this one?”

  Amy bursts out of her dressing room in hot pink lingerie. I hate that she looks so damn good in it. The lace corset is practically see-through but hides all the good stuff while her breasts are hugged to perfection giving her fantastic cleavage. The garter belt attaches to sheer thigh-highs with hot pink trim.

  The irritation I had trouble finding resurfaces when Emiliano smiles at her. “Fan-fucking-tastic, Amster!” He walks over to her and releases her hair from her topknot. She runs her fingers through and tosses her hair as he watches and takes pictures.

  “You know what I want to see,” he tells her. She giggles and turns. “Look at that ass!” Amy is wearing satin and mesh tanga panties with a sheer illusion. The back cuts into an open V with lace adorning the edges that attach at the waist giving her butt cleavage. It’s completely sheer. He snaps some pictures while he talks. “Haven’t I always told you have a nice ass?”

  I feel sick, but I stand there and watch them anyway. “We did it? We got the perfect Valentine’s Day lingerie? You like the hot pink better than the peach?”

  “Peach looks good on you too, but it gives you an innocent glow, and you don’t want to look innocent. Do you?” She shakes her head. “That’s right. This is naughty, and you want to be naughty. Don’t you?” She nods. “This one says, ‘I can’t wait to get home.’ This one says, ‘Fuck me now.” He steps a little closer to her. “That’s what you want. Isn’t it?”

  “Oh, God. Yes.” Amy gets a dreamy look on her face. “That’s exactly what I want.”

  Me too. I’m torn between hating this scene and wanting to be in Amy’s place. This is some bullshit. I’ll have to find another way to move past him since hate sex is off the table. I’m about to turn to leave, but Amy sees us.

  “Cher? Caris? Oh, my god! It’s so good to see you!” She heads our way without bothering to cover up. I would be confident too if my man spoke to me like that. I push aside the reality that I’m practically a thirty-year-old spinster. “How have you two been?” she asks all smiles and sunshine.

  “Good,” we say in unison.

  “I just love your store, Caris. These pieces are exquisite.” She turns to model. “Do you like this set? Emiliano picked it out for me. He’s really good at this; I’m glad you two are working together.” She speaks without pausing; we just nod. “You two are coming over to dinner. Emiliano will give you the details. I can’t wait to chat.” She’s off again. “Okay, Magic Mike. I’m changing and paying, then we’re out. I’m raring to get home. I’m feeling um…motivated.”

  Emiliano throws his head back and laughs. His laughter and smiles get to me every time. It pisses me off that none of it is for me. His response to her kills me on the inside. “I bet you are, you sexy mutherfucker.”

  Cher follows close behind as I powerwalk to a nearby restaurant. “Well, I guess your suggestion is a no-go,” I huff when we slide into a booth.

  “That’s weird,” Cher muses as she twirls one of her curls. “I’d gotten the distinct impression from Loli that he was as single as the day he was born.”

  “Unless they have an open relationship, or he is a serial cheater, he doesn’t look single.” I don’t fight to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

  “Maybe it is an old flame booty call?”

  “Old flame booty call?” I frown at her waiting for an explanation.

  “You know when you call an ex or someone you used to screw because you don’t feel like finding someone new. I’ve done it before.”

  “Oh, really? Did y’all buy hundreds of dollars of lingerie together beforehand?”

  Cher shrugs, “Well, no, but he’s very well paid. Sometimes the rich have weird habits.”

  My look tells her I’m not buying it. “They looked awfully comfortable for people who just linked back up. She invited us to dinner.”

  Cher holds up a finger as she sips her water. “We should go.”

  I recoil. “Hell, no.”

  “What better way to find out their business. We were invited after all.”

  “I don’t want to be a part of some sort of relationship they’re having. Can you think back on what we just witnessed and come up with another explanation?”

  “Friends or fuck buddies,” Cher answers breezily.

  She really gets on my nerves sometimes.

  Chapter 7

  Emiliano

  We’re arguing again. Every time I coach myself to rise above her shenanigans, Caris does or says something that makes me want to strangle her. At least we had a functional yet, tense working relationship last. Well, that was my opinion until she sent me a glare cold enough to freeze fire when I was in her store with Amy a few days ago. I’d tried to extend an olive branch and showed up Monday with a coffee for her. The jerk threw it in the trash, claiming I could be trying to poison her.

  Now, we’re not being as productive as I would like. I’m reduced to telling her things like maybe she would loosen up if she stopped arguing with someone long enough to get aid. Telling her to go to hell, eat shit, shut the fuck up, and other childish, baser responses escape past my lips – none of which have a place in a working environment.

  On the plus side, the promo teasers for the Eros line look fantastic. I still fucking hate the fanfare for the holiday, but I do love sex and lingerie. Connor is doing most of the talking today to keep us on task, and Cher is chaperoning. I hate how she makes me just as childish as she. I hate that I can’t stop it. I scowl at her from across the table for disturbing my peace. I’m still mad at her for insinuating that I’m trying to sabotage her expansion.

  She’d even threatened to roast my balls and serve them to the people at my office if she found any evidence of sabotage. Not to mention, that was right before she called me an “accented mutherfucker.”

  My lips twitch. Okay, that is kind of funny. I’m still mad, though. C
onnor has us back on track now. I didn’t doubt him. He’s really good at this, as well; I’ve just been doing it longer. But, my dysfunction with Caris has him stepping up more than he normally would need to, but it’s good for him to get the experience.

  “Okay, ladies. Let’s go; we’ll finish this at my place,” Connor tells them.

  “What?” both of them question.

  “My wife is throwing a dinner party. I always bring the clients I’m working with to meet her, and it’s your turn. Let’s roll.”

  They look at each other and shrug. We move to our respective vehicles and follow Connor to his home. I’m pissed at Amy for inviting them – Caris specifically. Isn’t there some rule about not inviting evil into your home? Once you invite it inside, it’s a wrap. Either way, she’s about to kill all my Thursday night fun.

  Caris

  We’re strapping ourselves in the car when Cher glances in my direction and asks, “Have you heard anything about Connor’s wife before?” I shake my head.

  “Not a peep. I saw the ring, but I don’t recall him mentioning any names.”

  “Well, if they have cats, I’m out,” Cher laughs as I nod in agreement.

  We ride in silence until we get to Connor’s home. It’s a stunning one-story in a beautiful neighborhood. It’s perfect for families. My ovaries ache at the notion. I’d thought I would be married with at least one kid by the time I hit thirty, and now, that it’s in the near future, I know it’s not happening. Maybe I’m destined to be as alone as Emiliano supposes.

  Speaking of the devil, he walks up to my car and opens the door like a perfect gentleman…for Cher. I’m only treated to a stank eye. Connor comes and opens my door for me. We’re all walking to the door when Amy comes bouncing out. I’m not in the mood for this.

  “There’s my man!” she exclaims and jogs towards us.

  If Emiliano and I had gotten together instead of them, would I be the one running to him all lovestruck?