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“Your ambition,” she’d corrected as she turned back to her phone without another look at me.
I went out that night and fucked someone else.
That was almost two years ago and for a while, it was the only thing that kept me sane. It felt like one of the few things in my life I had any control over. I wasn’t proud of it, but I felt like I was drowning.
Until three months ago.
Until my childhood best friend’s wedding when I slept with the most gorgeous woman I’d ever met, had the best sex of my life, and then snuck out before the sun rose because I’d woken up to approximately twenty texts from Holly and I felt like an asshole.
Not for cheating on Holly again, but for dragging Marissa into my dysfunctional life without her knowing.
So, I left like a coward instead of telling her the truth. At least if she hated me, she wouldn’t be tempted to contact me. I didn’t even know her last name and as much as I wanted to, I didn’t probe Owen for any details on the bridesmaid that I couldn’t stop thinking about. I didn’t even tell him what I did. Mostly because I knew it would lead to a lecture about it being time to leave Holly. And I’d hoped she wouldn’t try to find me because I was in no place to offer her anything even if I wanted to.
A part of me wasn’t even sure I did want to. Yes, the sex was amazing and she was gorgeous and incredible, but I hardly knew her. Not to mention I’d been fooled and burned by a woman once already and I’d become skeptical of everyone’s motives.
I reach my hand into my slacks pocket and pull out one of the hair pins she’d had in her hair that night. She’d had three, all silver and made to look like a tree branch with crystals as the leaves. I’d taken one, hoping she wouldn’t notice or would just assume she lost it, but I wanted a memory of what had become the best night of my life. I’ve been carrying it in my pocket every day for the past three months.
I drag my thumb over the stones again and feel Beck’s gaze. When I look up he’s staring down at my hands. “Still thinking about the girl from the wedding?” he asks, having heard the story the first time I pulled it out of my pocket. And then at least once a week since.
“I’m never not thinking about her,” I confess. Sometimes, I even let myself think about a life where I get out of this mess with Holly and Marissa forgives me for disappearing into the night. Morning, whatever.
“Maybe you should try to reach out.”
“And say what? Want to be my mistress?”
He winces in response. “The truth? But I mean…maybe this is the time to get a divorce.”
I groan, putting a hand over my eyes. “And give Holly almost four hundred million dollars? Maybe more? Fuck, I should have done this years ago.” I feel sick for the umpteenth time thinking about the fact that I could have been done with this hundreds of millions of dollars ago before Beckham Securities really took off.
“I won’t say I told you so,” Beck says…because he definitely had, multiple times. “Look, what’s the alternative? Being miserable for the rest of your life? Chris, we’ll make more money. Take it from me, you will feel so much better once you leave the wrong partner.” I nod, thinking about Beck’s ex-fiancée, Hannah. She and Holly were like two peas in a pod. So similar that it was almost comical and yet the irony that they didn’t like each other somehow still made perfect sense. “I go home to peace and quiet and can do whatever I want.”
“And you don’t even appreciate it. You could literally fuck anyone and you haven’t since you and Hannah broke up.”
He shrugs and stares down into his beer like the answer is in the amber liquid. “I’m tired of the casual sex thing. I want something real. Just because I didn’t want to marry Hannah doesn’t mean I don’t ever want to get married. I just want the right woman.”
Normally, I’d rag on him a little bit about his hopeless romantic nature, but the truth is I haven’t slept with anyone else in three months. Not since Marissa. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her long enough to even entertain another woman.
My wife included.
Holly and I rarely have sex, and now we even sleep in separate bedrooms, but there were a few times here and there where she’d initiate it and I’d go with it for the sake of keeping the peace. She hadn’t in months though, and for that I was grateful.
I don’t think I fell in love with Marissa after one night of drunken sex, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I felt something and I’m sure she did too.
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to at least find out her last name. I could stalk her on Instagram or LinkedIn because as I’ve been thoroughly informed by Alexis, “People don’t use Facebook anymore, Grandpa.”
Beck and I stay at the bar for a bit longer, both of us commiserating over how lacking our love lives are, and for the hundredth time, I’m reminded that all the money in the world really can’t buy happiness.
There’s a knock on my office door and then my assistant, Christine, is pushing through the door with a cup of coffee and a stack of pink post-it notes in her other hand. “Mr. Holt, I have your coffee and some messages,” she says as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Also, Mr. Beckham asked if you can handle the onboarding orientation for the new hires.”
I groan, thinking about the six new members of the sales team that are starting today. The last thing I feel like doing right now is talking to a bunch of twenty-one-year-olds fresh out of college who are far too chipper and eager to impress. I’m not in the mood to be on right now and that’s exactly what I have to do. Get them excited to work for us. Tell them that they made the right decision coming to work at Beckham Securities and that this is a great place to work, healthy work-life balance, my door is always open, blah blah blah. It’s true, but I’m in a foul mood.
Holly and I got into it over the same old bullshit last night and I jerked off in the shower thinking about Marissa for the millionth time before going to bed annoyed and horny.
I’d woken up annoyed and horny.
“Where is Beck?” I ask her, because he better have a good excuse as to why he’s pushing this off on me. He may be my boss technically, but I can still tell him to fuck off when necessary.
“He got called into a meeting with the Seattle team.”
