One Look At You (24 page)

“The day after our return from Carmel, I called Izabel. I wanted her to finally sign the divorce papers because she’d been dragging her feet for months. We were at an impasse, and she told me it would be better for her to come see me at work so we could discuss the terms of the settlement in person. I said no. You have to understand, I didn’t want her at Gallo’s. That’s why I was in a horrible mood when I came to work. However, even though I told her not to come, she stubbornly came anyway.” He stops talking, waiting for me to say something.

“Go on,” is all I say.

“That’s it. She told me she wanted us to try again. She refused to listen. I think she enjoyed having the upper hand. She asked about you several times. She must have been suspicious.”

“Why suspicious?” I can’t help but ask.

“I honestly don’t know.”
Can it be that she remembers seeing me crying in the women’s lounge? Or did he say something?

“I just had a feeling that she might do something to hurt you or humiliate you if she knew the truth, so I did my best to lead her in another direction. Nothing was resolved that day. She left without signing the papers. Later on, I got the news about my mom so I hurriedly left for Brazil.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I saw the look on your face when Izabel walked in. I could tell you thought I had asked her to come. But it was bad timing, Livie. That’s all it was. You have to believe me.”

I don’t know what to think. What he says seems to make sense, but I find it hard to believe that he wants to leave his wife. He loved her once. She’s still in love with him and wants to make a go of their marriage. How can he say no to that?

“At the ball, you just left me in the middle of the dance floor to join her. Do you even know how that made me feel?” My tone is calm, but I can feel the tears forming at the back of my eyes.

“I was afraid she’d make trouble. I had to stop her. I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me or yourself?” I ask coldly.

“I could have handled it better, but I guess I acted instinctively. Livie… please.” His voice fades to a hushed stillness. There’s a look of defeat on his face, but I feel little sympathy for him right now. He chose his bed, and now he has to lie in it.

“I must go.” I say this as I stand up, preparing to leave. He reaches for my hand but I move away. “Please let Lucas know I’ll be waiting outside the lobby.” Without a backward glance, I walk to the door, leaving him looking dazed with disbelief.

He only had to say one thing and I would have gone straight into his arms. One thing. But he never did. And now, there’s no turning back.

“Thank you, Lucas.” He looks solemnly at me and nods in acknowledgement. I walk to my car and drive home. I feel empty. There is a lonely, hollow feeling deep, deep inside me. I’ve always felt it’s an exaggeration to say that someone’s heart has been ripped out, but that’s close to what I feel right now. I had – I have – an addiction, and just like a junkie, I’m in pain from withdrawal. I’m alive, yes. But, barely.

Was he telling me the truth or was it all an act? Does it even matter? I walked out of that ballroom with my heart in shreds and my reputation in shambles. How can I pick up the pieces? Where do I even go from here?

So, like a limp ragdoll, I lie on the living room couch, staring at the wall and pondering how I have fallen hopelessly, irrevocably in love and in lust with a married man.

I’m so tired, so so tired.

“Livie, Livie.” Jen says my name as she shakes my shoulders. “Livie, wake up.”

“What’s the time?” I ask, feeling so sluggish.

“It’s six. I left work early and got us Chinese.”

“I was exhausted.”

“The heat must have gotten to you. C’mon, sleepyhead. Let’s eat while the kung pao’s hot.” I stretch and then slowly get up. Jen is already busily setting the table.

“No, Jen. Let’s just use the paper plates and chopsticks. I don’t feel like washing up tonight.”

“Okay. Then sit down and let’s eat.” She passes me the carton of steam rice and then the chicken.

“What did you do all day?”

“Laundry. Read my book at the park. Went home and slept. Pretty boring stuff.” I naturally leave out the part about going to Tony’s hotel.

“Did you get a chance to check out the classifieds?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I may have a lead. My contact at happyworld dotcom told me they’re looking for a researcher.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that site.”

“Just set up last year. It’s an educational site for kids from ages four to twelve. She gave me the email address. Just send your latest resume and she’ll do her best to put you on the shortlist. I already told her about your awesome qualities, so she’s excited to meet you.”

“Oh, Jen, you’re the best. I do hope you didn’t make up things about me.”

“What do you mean? Just told her you speak five languages, know jujitsu, and have hiked the Himalayas,” she jokingly says.

“Only five languages? Why not six?” We both crack up.

“By the way, when are you gonna hang your cork board? It’s still on my bed,” she reminds me.

“I completely forgot. I’ll do it right after dessert.”

“What are you gonna put on it?”

“Don’t laugh. I wanted to have a vision board, but I feel like I’m a failure at manifesting, so I’ll put it on the kitchen wall instead. We can post messages, reminders, recipes and whatever.”

“Cool. I’ll do a meme of the day to cheer us up.”

“Yeah, I need that.”

“You didn’t eat much.” A frown mars her lovely face. “Livie, I don’t want to sound like a Hallmark card but, take it from me – one day, it won’t hurt so much anymore.”

“I know. Just let me be miserable in the meantime,” I say with my eyes pleading for understanding.

She looks inside the fridge, and gets a small box of brownies from the supermarket and a pint of ice cream. “Choose,” she tells me as she holds the box in her left hand and the pint in her right.

“Brownies?” I’m not certain of my choice.

She puts one brownie on my plate and scoops out the ice cream for herself. “You’ll never believe what happened at lunch today.” While we enjoy our sweets, she talks about her hilarious encounter with Rex, the software guy, and she has me in stitches. It seems like the guy really has a big crush on her but is too much of a dork to make a move. Jen’s doing her best to show him she likes him, but his lack of social skills keeps landing them in a comedy of errors. Her story sounds like an episode of Beauty and the Geek. Ahh…sweet, gorgeous Jen and funny Rex.

“Time to put up the cork board,” I say as I enter Jen’s room with cutter in hand. Jen is going through her messy closet, trying to figure out a way to reorganize it. I look at the package on the bed and it looks much bigger than the item I ordered. The packaging looks eerily familiar, too, and it suddenly feels like my heart has stopped beating for a second or two. I carefully open the carton using the cutter. My hands are shaking, knowing with certainty what I’ll find.

I gaze at the painting with unshed tears.
Why did he give this to me? Is it guilt? A goodbye present? Something to remember him by? Is he trying to tell me something or am I just reading too much into this?

Jen is standing next to me now. “Tony?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

“We saw this at a gallery in Carmel. I thought he was buying it for himself.”

We continue to silently admire the painting until I say, “I have to go to him.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea, Liv?”

I bite my lip. “No, but I have to.”

“Do you want me to drive you?” I shake my head. I bring the painting to my room and lovingly lay it on the bed. I quickly change into a casual top and jeans.

“Jen, I’ll be on my way.”

“Drive safe.” That’s all she says, and all the more I love her for simply standing by me, despite her own misgivings.

As the elevator doors close behind me, I panic, no longer sure if I should see him. What if Izabel is here? What if he refuses to see me? What do I say to him? My pulse quickens with severe anxiety. I knock, softly at first, and then gradually louder when I get no response. Just when I lose my nerve and turn around, the door opens.

“Livie?” I go near him. Shadows deepen his eyes and weariness seems to envelope him.

“The painting… why?”

“Carmel is a special place for me. I wanted you to remember our time there.”

“You want me to remember, buy me a souvenir keychain. But a painting?” I search his face for an answer.

“Do you want to come in?” I follow him without a word. We both sit on the sofa.

“What do you want me to say? It’s a gift that I thought you would enjoy.”

“Just that?” I feel an odd twinge of disappointment at his answer.

“I don’t understand your question.”

Tell me something from the heart, I want to say
. But, of course, the words remain unspoken. Instead, I say, “It’s lovely and I do appreciate the sentiment. Thank you, but I have to return it.”

“I get it. You want nothing from me, no part of me,” he says bitterly. “Please don’t bother to return it. Give it away, sell it, burn it. I don’t care what you do with it.” His voice is cold and lashing.

My temper rises at his response. “I can’t keep something as expensive as that. I’m just doing the appropriate thing. Obviously, you don’t know the meaning of the word…. You know what? I’m done here. I’m sending it back to you and you can burn it yourself!” I stand to leave but he quickly stands himself. He puts his hand around my waist and draws me to him. His breath fans my face while his hand slides underneath my top, across my belly.

“No!” I shout while I have the strength.

“Yes,” he whispers, and then takes my mouth in a bruising kiss. It is a kiss of fire, exerting masterful control and demanding complete surrender. I offer token resistance, then inevitably yield. It feels too good to be in his warm embrace. I want him so much.
How can this be wrong?… You know why.

“No,” I say softly this time as I break free from his arms with great effort. “I can’t come between you and your wife anymore. I have no place in your life.”

“Our marriage is over. It has been almost from the very start. I want a divorce. It’s Izabel who’s fighting it.”

“Because she loves you. And she’s entitled to a second chance.” I say that with a lump in my throat.

“She’s not! You don’t know her. Don’t be naïve. She’s not doing this for love,” he says contemptuously. “I offered her an extremely generous settlement a year ago and she said yes. But, when she found out that Tio Maximo is formally grooming me as his successor, she changed her mind. Now she’s asking for the moon.”

I’m taken aback by his revelation. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“All I’m asking is for us to be together.”

“So you’re asking me to be your mistress?”

“The label is distasteful.”

“What then? Don’t you want to sleep with me, or will we be having conversation all night long?” He doesn’t respond.

“Right. Should we agree then that the word ‘mistress’ is appropriate?”

“Livie, I’m being truthful with you. I can’t offer you anything at this point.”

“You can’t offer me anything at this point?” Now my pride is piqued. “I don’t want anything from you, for God’s sake.” Once again, I regret coming to see him.

“You’re misinterpreting everything. I never mentioned the word mistress, but you’re trying to make it all sound sordid and clandestine. Livie, please, what I’m trying to say is that I’m married, yes. But I want you, even though God knows I don’t deserve you.”

He wants me. Not, he loves me. He wants me. Perhaps that’s all he can ever say with conviction. His eyes seem to tell me more, or maybe what I feel for him colors the way I perceive everything about him.

At that moment, I take a leap of faith, or maybe the honest way of putting it is that I decide to be selfish. The door may close on me soon, so I decide on what is best for me right now. Now, not a month from now, or ten years from now. Right now.
I will live in the moment and the future be damned.

“Yes,” I say loud and clear. He looks at me like he can’t believe his ears.

“Do you want me, too?”

I want to tell him that I more than want him, but I know he doesn’t want me on those terms. His display of vulnerability, however, totally disarms me, so I declare, “Yes. I want to be with you.” His smile widens in a mixture of relief and happiness. Then he locks me into a tight embrace and lifts me off the floor while his tongue explores the recesses of my mouth. My legs go around his frame and I can feel his hardness and my own growing wetness.

I’m not aware of how we get to the bed, but I find myself underneath him, my hands busily unbuttoning his shirt. Somehow, my top is taken off me and my breasts are begging to be released from my white push-up bra. His fingers unfasten my blue jeans with expertise and push them roughly down my hips and legs until I’m down to my thong. He pulls the thong to the side of my entrance and teases my swollen lips with his silky hands.

“No,” I say before I nibble on his earlobe. “Lie down. Don’t move a muscle. I’m in charge.” His expression moves quickly from shock to raw desire. I get up and straddle him. I push him down on the bed and he moves upwards towards the headboard, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Very slowly, I unbuckle his pants while I look straight at him. Once his zip is open, I put one hand inside his boxers. “Let’s see if I can make you even harder.” His eyes are now closed and he moans as my mouth moves up and down his shaft in a rhythm. I stop abruptly to tease him. I lay my body on top of his and move my lips close to his face. “Tell me what you like,” I say to turn the tables on him.

He lifts his hips, and I get his boxers and pants down to his ankles until I can take them off completely. I lean over to kiss him lightly, but his mouth invades mine and we end up kissing so deeply that I break off to take a breath of air. His hand goes to the back of my head and I follow his lead. I lick his hair-roughened skin – the hard, warm muscles of his chest and belly. I go lower and take him down there in my hand. My tongue swirls at the top, and I make eye contact while I do this. I suck, my head bobbing up and down as I take more and more. His hips push upward and he gets deeper into my mouth and throat. His face is flushed, his eyes shut closed. I slowly play with him for the next five minutes until he calls out my name.