If Only Page 2

  I was now thirty-seven and after spending most of my years as a housewife, tending to Christian’s every need, I finally started a business of my own. It was grueling to get him to agree to it but after months of begging for a cash injection, he decided he would lend me ten thousand dollars to become a doula.

  I would give private lessons and attend birthing classes with expectant parents. My friend Gabriella asked me why torture myself. I laughed and told her that I didn’t know, which was the truth. I loved babies and everything about pregnancy and childbirth, desperately wanting to be a mother myself.

  I was already a housewife. Most housewives, took care of children. I only took care of Christian and our five-year old tabby cat Bugsy. People looked at me questionably year after year when I told them that Christian and I still didn’t have children. They always wondered why. I was wildly tempted many times to direct their questions to Christian who could answer them, since I myself was at a loss as to why we remained childless. I usually only came up with two reasons. He was too selfish and I was too passive, always putting his needs and wants first. It was the story of my life.

  Christian shut the shower off and sauntered back into the bedroom with a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist. A full-length mirror rested just outside the bathroom. He stood in front of it, turned to the left and then to the right, admiring his form and smiled. That was of course after making his pectoral muscles twitch a few times with pride. Then he faced forward and grinned, showing his perfect white teeth and dimples that the women loved so much. I rolled my eyes and grabbed my robe. I shrugged it on, leaving the bed.

  Christian was forty now but he looked better than most men half his age. He was rich, he was successful and he commanded respect. We hardly ever argued. He usually set the rules and whether I liked them or not, I remained quiet about. Then I would stew for days while he ignored me, secretly convinced I would simply get over it. It frustrated the shit out of me how he disregarded me when he was set in his own opinion about one thing or the other but Christian was right. Eventually, I did get over it.

  Christian had me as his trophy wife. I was blonde with long wavy hair that hit the center of my back. I had blue eyes and was slim with big breasts, which helped to keep his interest after being married to him for as long as I had. I kept in shape as much as he did because that’s what he required. He still called me hot and even now, he couldn’t keep his hands off me.

  We had a beautiful house with a fantastic view of Lake Michigan in the Gold Coast neighborhood of Chicago, Illinois.

  Chicago is the third largest city in the United States with nearly three million residents. The Gold Coast neighborhood is the equivalent of Manhattan’s affluent upper east side. Most of the residents that lived here were wealthy.

  Christian and I had everything we could possibly want. We were still in love and

  content with our upper class suburban lives. Everything was perfect.

  Mia

  These Arms of Mine sung by Otis Redding, echoed from the old jukebox in the corner of the bar, when I walked in. The soulful song only pulled on my heart strings even more, making me feel heavy and tired. The bar wasn’t crowded like I expected it to be for a Friday night.

  Connor sat at the end of it. He gave me a wave, signaling for me to join him. Connor was one of my best friends. I had known him as long as I’d known Lauren.

  I made a heavy sigh as I shrugged out of my coat and settled into the bar stool next to him.

  Connor was tall, muscular and heavy. He had a shaved head and deep dimples underneath the dark trimmed beard that he now sported. His look was intimidating. Most people mistook him for an American football player or a bouncer but he was actually worked in a major corporation by day. Connor had always had a knack for numbers and was successful in his own right, heading up the entire analytics division of his company. Underneath his tough exterior, Connor was made of putty and was a gay as could be.

  He gave me a sympathetic look as he sipped his bourbon languidly, hunching further down in his seat.

  “What will you have miss?” The old bartender asked.

  “I will take a shot of tequila please.” Before he walked away I spoke again. “Actually, make that two.” Or three or four.

  The bartender nodded, putting a shot glass on the wooden counter in front of me. Connor remained quiet allowing me to down three shots before he said a word.

  I turned to gaze directly into his big brown eyes.

  “So, where’s the whore?”

  I sighed. “Please don’t call her that.”

  Connor huffed. “Well she is, Mia.”

  I drank the third shot placed in front of me.

  “But to answer your question, I don’t know where she is. I just want her gone.”

  Connor rested a hand on my shoulder as I willed myself not to cry again, for the fourth time today.

  After leaving my apartment earlier, I went straight back to work and cried in the bathroom for a half hour. Each time I tried to leave the stall, I cried again. Then I spent another few minutes, squeezing Visine into my eyes to cure the redness.

  It truly was the worst day ever. The last thing I needed was to be caught crying in my office. The men would eat me alive and label me emotional, which was what they already assumed all women were. Each time I tried to concentrate on the work that was slowly taking over my desk, my thoughts shifted to what I had witnessed earlier in the day. The sight of it all was etched in my brain. I couldn’t rid myself of it. Their moans and cries - the sound of Lauren’s giggling as she looked into the man’s eyes. I knew I needed a new bed asap. I would never sleep in the old one again, since it was now tainted with deceit and betrayal.

  Lauren tried calling a few times. I sent each call to voicemail. I had no interest in checking them but I knew eventually I would, just to hear her voice.

  “Engagement off then?”

  “I don’t think it was ever on.” I mumbled.

  “You’re better off without her, Mia. I don’t understand why you keep doing this to yourself. Lauren has always been so fucking confused. She doesn’t know what she wants.

  “She’s ashamed of you and of herself and the worst part is that she’s a liar and a user, Mia. You keep letting her use you.”

  I felt my eyes grow wet.

  “She keeps breaking your heart and you keep allowing it.” Connor snapped.

  I nodded. “I told her to leave this time.”

  Connor chuckled and twisted his face.

  “I mean it this time, I swear.”

  “I hope so Mia because if you take her back again I am going to have you fucking committed.”

  I forced a dry laugh and waved for the bartender to come back over.

  “So, you haven’t been home since you left then?”

  “No.”

  Connor placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it lightly.

  “Who was the man?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. They seemed like they had known each other for a long time. They were familiar.”

  Connor let out a grunt.

  “I think she’s been fucking him for a while. And he was married.”

  Connor shook his head. “That’s Lauren for ya’.”

  “You should have saw them giggling and kissing. It was like they were in a world of their own, like two people in love.”

  My chest hurt when I said the words. I let out a sigh and downed the next shot.

  “You deserve better, Mia.”

  “I know but I love her Connor, so much. Now, I’m beginning to think I lost myself a long time ago with her. The entire relationship became the story of me always trying to please her and make her happy. I never thought about my own happiness, not once.”

  I sniffled, and drank the next shot, slamming the glass back down.

  “Lauren is a fucking cunt, Mia. She always has been and I’m sure those parents of hers have never made it any easier for her to be honest about who she is.”

  “Ye
ah, I know.”

  Lauren’s parents were bible-thumping, scripture reading, Jesus freaks. They were super conservative hypocrites, that preached to the high heavens about the sanctity and longevity of the family unit blab la bla, but yet they themselves were divorced. Lauren never stood up to her parents and she was never financially independent enough to stop accepting money from either one of them, so that she could tell them both to fuck off.

  “It’s still no excuse for lying or cheating on you, Mia.”

  I arched my neck up towards the ceiling that was covered in twinkling Christmas lights, feeling the tequila sink into my brain making it hazy. All I wanted to do was to forget.

  “You need to get laid Mia and preferably, not by Lauren. You need to get laid and forget all about her.”

  I giggled.

  “I want a family Connor, you know that. I don’t want to fuck random women. I want to get married and settle down and have children of my own.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “You’re such a turn on, Mia. I feel myself growing hard right now.” He joked.

  I punched him in the shoulder, not appreciating his sarcasm.

  “Mia, I wholeheartedly believe you will get your wish but it may just not happen for a while. Right now, just focus on you.”

  “I will.” I said holding a finger up.

  The bartender returned, looking both Connor and I over and the row of empty shot glasses in front of us.

  Connor nodded and the old man disappeared somewhere returning with an entire bottle of tequila.

  “I have the best breakup lines.” Connor said.

  I hunched into my stool, waiting for him to speak.

  “How about...

  “You’re perfect in every way, just not for me.”

  I laughed.

  “Or.” Connor said loudly. “I’ll always remember last night, but I think we can forget about tomorrow.”

  I cackled loudly, placing a hand in the center of my chest.

  “I wish I could say you’re the most special person in the world but you’re not.” Connor said twisting his face.

  I giggled and felt my cheeks turning red.

  “This one is the best.” Connor said loudly. “I just can’t live with the pathetic tickles, you call sexual thrusts anymore. I’m sorry.” He said scrunching his face.

  I was nearly out of my chair with laughter.

  “Remember when I asked you out?” Connor said, flitting his fingers around. “Well, I was talking to the guy behind you.”

  “Connor!” I shouted, taking another shot.

  Connor could go all night with these jokes.

  “My cat doesn’t like you. I’d rather masturbate than be with you. Our relationship is like a fat guy. It’s not working out!”

  Connor’s brown eyes looked me over as his chest rattled heavily with laughter. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and placed a kiss to my temple.

  He nodded. “I will come by tomorrow to check on you.”

  “Thanks.” I whispered.

  “But right now, let’s get drunk.”

  Scarlett

  I sat listening to Christian babble on about the current financial climate. He’d unbuttoned his black dress shirt two buttons from the top and his platinum Rolex glinted, each time he tented his fingers, looking over everyone at the table.

  Christian was so fucking arrogant when he spoke to an audience.

  I couldn’t be any more bored.

  We sat at a large circular table, across from two of his business partners and a potential client and their wives who looked just as suicidal as I did. Jacqueline, one of Christian’s accountants chimed into the conversation, adding commentary about acquisitions and mergers, completely ignoring my existence. I was certain she hadn’t even said hello to me.

  Jacqueline’s wide-eyed gazes and alluring smiles also lingered on my husband a little too long for my comfort. She was much younger than me, likely not even thirty yet. She sat across the table, perched with her forearms under her breasts, accentuating her cleavage in the tight white dress she was wearing. One leg was thrown over the other at the knee, so that you could see a bit of the skin on her leg at the hem of her dress. It was a pose I was sure she’d practiced many times before to get a man’s attention.

  I sipped my wine, inhaling the fruity scent of it, when I really wanted to just throw the entire glass of it on Jacqueline. Every now and again, I swore I saw her and Christian’s eyes meet but I couldn’t be sure. He squeezed my hand in his lap as I looked around the fancy restaurant.

  I’d been no shortage of restaurants in Chicago, always accompanying him to dinner for work. Usually I could order without having even looked at the menu. This place was quiet, with only a handful of people dining out tonight. The food was Italian and the décor was modern with tear drop lighting strategically placed over every dimly lit table.

  I gazed down at the two-carat time solitaire on my ring finger that Christian gave to me all those years ago. He still wore his band. I pulled my hand away from his, after the fifth time Jacqueline eyed him over. Was I being paranoid?

  “So, what do you do Scarlett?” Robert Haase asked.

  It was the first time we’d met. He was a potential client of Christian’s and was due to sign a full contract tomorrow. I looked up from my trance, scanning the table.

  Jacqueline twisted her mouth as she waited for me to speak.

  Before I could respond, Christian spoke. “Scarlett stays home.” He said, giving me a smile, looking down at me.

  “Taking care of the kids, kind of thing?” Robert asked with a smile.

  Christian stiffened and I looked down into my lap again. When I looked up, I found Jacqueline’s smirk. I took a deep breath, tempering my anger at her smugness.

  “No, she’s just a housewife.” Christian said with a laugh.

  “Well I did star-.”

  Christian changed the topic before I could get the words out about my new business that I was still in the process of starting, officially. His hand tapped my thigh lightly, attempting to pacify the rude way he’d just cut me off.

  When the waiter returned, I ordered another glass of wine. I remained sitting at the dinner table, listening to the mind-numbing conversations about interest rates and liquidity risks in the current financial climate for the next hour. By the time dinner was done, I was drunk.

  Christian stood from the table, extending a hand to me, before giving Jacqueline a smile. There was something about their silent interactions that made me feel unsettled. Maybe it was me?

  The drive home was quiet. I rested against the cool leather seat and listened to hum of the Audi.

  “You look pretty tonight, Scar.” Christian said, giving me a quick glance.

  He knew I was angry or at least that something was bothering me but as usual he would say nothing. He would just retreat, until I was in a better mood.

  “Thanks.” I whispered, sinking into the bright street lights outside. “I didn’t think you had even noticed what color my dress was.”

  Christian made a face looking over at me.

  I faced out the window, ignoring it.

  “It’s blue.” He said slowly.

  “Oh.” I whispered.

  Christian wrapped his free hand around mine as he drove us home.

  Scarlett

  “I’m just a housewife.” I repeated, staring at Christian and he stood in the center of the closet, undressing.

  The statement was a reminder of what he’d said earlier about me in front of the table full of people.

  Christian took a deep breath and raised his palms in surrender. “I didn’t mean it like that, Scar.”

  I chuckled, feeling the effects of the white wine I consumed at dinner kicking in. “I have my own business now.” I said firmly.

  “Yes, yes Scar. I know.” Christian said in a disinterested tone that didn’t escape me.

  It would have been short of a miracle for Christian to even acknowledge my accomplishments, let alo
ne take them seriously. To him, this business was just something to pass the time. It was a joke to him.

  I shrugged out of my dress, while he stripped down to his underwear and headed in the bathroom. I hated when Christian ignored me. I followed him to the bathroom. He stood in front of the sink on his side, soaping up his face and brushing his teeth quickly. Leaning against the door, I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

  “Are you fucking her?” I asked, shooting Christian a glare.

  He stood straight and gave me an incredulous look. “What?” He snapped.

  “Are you fucking her?”

  Christian shook his head in annoyance. “What are you talking about, Scar? You’re drunk.”

  I laughed.

  Christian walked towards me slowly until I was pressed against the wall, with his chest touching mine. “What are you talking about?” He whispered seductively into the soft skin on my neck.

  “Jacqueline.” I mumbled.

  “Why would you think that?”

  I huffed a breath, taking off my dress.

  “No, Scar. The only woman I am fucking is you. Why would you think that?”

  He placed soft kisses along my collarbone and moved down to my breasts, slipping the straps to my bra off my shoulders.

  “Why would you think that?” Christian murmured into my skin and slipped his warm hands around my waist.

  “Because of how she looks at you.”

  Christian chuckled, almost amused.

  Jacqueline looked at Christian the way I looked at him. I admired him. I respected him and I couldn’t ever remember a time that I didn’t want to fuck him.

  “I love you, Scar.” He whispered.

  I snorted. Then I realized how much what he was doing was turning me on.

  “Scar, I love you.” He moaned, right before sliding his tongue into my mouth.

  I whimpered, attempting to pull away from him when he gripped me hard. Before, I could get another word out he spun me around, raking his fingers through my hair, until they settled around my neck. He pressed himself into my ass, allowing me to feel how hard he was. Then parted my legs with his strong thigh, pulling my panties to the side.