Page 41 of Forbidden Fruit
I’m not your friend, this is a lunch between colleagues.
Pierce
Whatever helps you sleep at night.
Pierce is as stern as I am, but he’s the only one that I tolerate, along with Alana. He doesn’t fill the silence with empty wordsand incessant chatter. Maybe I do need a friend. The only people I interact with are my children, my parents, and people at Lady In White. And when I go there, it’s not to talk.
Even when we were married, Monica and I didn’t talk either. This loneliness and heaviness have been with me before I met her. When I really think about it, this has been weighing me down since my teenage years. Like my brain didn’t know how to process emotions and left me with this instead. It stayed, despite longing for a deep connection with my then-wife. I thought we did have it.
At first, she was charming, smiling all the time. I planned all our dates as a boyfriend should. Seduced her with flowers, restaurants, romantic picnics and trips to Europe. I pretended to be fine that I almost believed it myself.
Sex was a battle of will and I thought that’s what I wanted. It was passionate, and we often ended up bruised and bitten, both wanting to dominate the other. I should have known it wouldn’t work then. Not only because we weren’t compatible in bed, but because she always commented how she would have done our dates differently if she’d been the one organising. I loved how driven she was, how focused and secure enough to tell me her truths. But it was nevertruths. It was only how she thought I failed her.
She got pregnant with Anton by accident and I married her, sealing our miserable fates until it was too much for her.
I hate that she’s left. I hate that she prioritised herself over our children. But the guilt I feel and the shame I carry is because, deep down, I’m grateful she did. I don’t have to look at her disappointment to add to my negative mindset every day. I don’t have to hear how sluggish I become when the clouds grow too big, how I’m not ‘the man she thought I was’. It’s still hard to breathe most days, but when she was here, I suffocated every single minute we were together.
I look up at the clock. Ten to eight, and still, Vanessa hasn’t showed up. My phone shows that she hasn’t read my texts. I pace, nervous energy building and spilling over into my veins.
“Are you okay,babbu?” Anton asks, his eyes seeing too much for his young age.
“I’m nervous,picculinu. I have a big day at work today.” Only half of my answer is a lie.
At eight on the dot, Vanessa struts in, wearing the yellow sundress embroidered with dark purple figs that hugs her figure. It’s my favourite. Golden sandals adorn her feet and I can’t help but let my gaze climb up her perfect body until it meets hers. I know what she looks like underneath and the thought is a threat to my already crumbling walls.
She avoids my eyes and greets the children.
“Anything I should know for today, Mr Marquesi?” Her voice is too high pitched to be sincere.
I take a step forward, so close I can see her squirm. I wish I could graze my fingers against her bare arms. “We need to talk.”
“Okay, why don’t we talk tonight? We don’t want to be late for school, do we, Anton?” She uses my son as a shield and it works, the little demon jumping off his stool and running to get his backpack, waiting in the hallway, while she picks Livia up and walks to the buggy to strap her in.
I grind my teeth. If I thought Vanessa Winfrey was an obedient girl, she just proved me wrong. And I find it endearing. I watch as she gets ready with Anton and Livia, my heart softening, the clouds turning to a lighter shade of grey in my head.
She is so effortless. She smiles and jokes with Anton and Livia, her laughter echoing against the walls of a home that hasn’t heard such a sound in far too long, if ever.
If only…
I shake my head and straighten from the wall I was leaning against to admire what my life could look like in an alternative reality.
“Fine,” I concede. “I’ll be home early.”
She nods absent-mindedly and I leave to go to my car. My eyes barely leave the rearview mirror as I watch my family going to school withwhat could be.
“Ikissed my nanny.”
The fork stops on its way to Pierce’s mouth, which hangs open in shock. Then his face morphs to delight as he drops his food back down to his plate.
“Didn’t think you had it in you, Lino,” Pierce says nonchalantly like I’m not unravelling.
“What do I do?”
He blinks once. Twice.
I look around us in the high-end restaurant in the centre of Sant Armellu but no one’s here. We opted for a late lunch and most patrons have already vacated the classic French brasserie. with mirrors on every wall, black and white octagonal tiles on the floor and a hardwood bar.
I stare at Pierce. I’m hoping he can guide me in this situation. Where I was alone to deal with most things with Monica—my parents excluded, but they were as out of their depth as I was—I don’t want to be when it comes to Vanessa. I won’t make the same mistakes again.