Shanora Williams

If only I could stay in this dream forever. I’d make you mine in every way.

I reach the empty space, planting my elbows on the counter and waiting for the bartender to come my way.

Glass shatters behind me, and I hear someone yell, “Fuck my life!” The voice is way too familiar. I turn back and look down at the woman behind me. She’s in heels and a blue dress. Her head is down as she looks at the shattered cup she just dropped, with liquid all around it.

“I am so sorry!” a guy says, holding his hands in the air in front of her.

“Watch where you’re going next time!”

The guy shrugs and disappears within the crowd on the dance floor. The woman looks up toward the bar, in search of help, but when I see her eyes, I’m surprised.

Holy fucking shit. “Gabby?” I call, standing taller.

Her eyes stretch wide when they shift over to me. She blinks twice, like she doesn’t believe the person she’s seeing either

“Marcel? What the hell are you doing here?” she asks with a smile.

“Here with a client, supposedly celebratin’. I’m sure the question is more what the hell are you doin’ here? This isn’t your kind of scene.”

“No, it’s not. I’m sure you can tell by the glass I just dropped on the floor that was full of fresh rum and coke.” She lets out an exasperated breath. I turn toward the bar and whistle for the bartender who is at the end of the counter, flirting with three girls. He hears me, and although he seems pretty annoyed, he comes rushing my way.

“Spilled drink over here, man, and there’s glass. Unless you want your boss gettin’ a lawsuit and havin’ him blame you for it, I suggest you call someone to clean it.”

The bartender gulps and nods, taking his job a little more seriously. He picks up a two-way radio behind him and says something. I grab several of the napkins on top of the counter and hand them to Gabby.

“Thanks.” She wipes her hands off.

When she’s done with them, she moves in the spot where a woman just left and dumps the crumpled towels on the counter.

“Who are you here with?” I look around, thinking maybe her asshole of a husband is going to pop up. Shit, I hope not.

“I came with my neighbor, Meredith. They have a table reserved over there.” She turns and points to an area behind her. I see several women at a large booth, drinking and laughing.

“Oh, so you’re makin’ friends? I knew you’d take my advice sooner rather than later.”

“Your advice sucks, okay? I don’t think they like me very much, hence the reason I’m at the bar getting my own drinks and not there right now.”

“How do you know they don’t like you?”

She shrugs, pretending not to care, but I can tell it’s bothering her. Her eyes drop down to a wet spot on her dress and she wipes it away. Her dress is way too fucking short. All I see are thighs and legs and, fuck me, if she doesn’t look fuck-able right now. “They’re older than me. Mid-to-late thirties. I think some of them are jealous, and it shows. It’s like some of them think I’d be a threat to them.”

“Hmm.” I turn around again, and this time the bartender is replacing glasses and doing his job. A cleanup guy comes and sweeps the glass and Gabby apologizes repeatedly to the man. He shrugs it off as just doing his job. While she explains what happened like she’s under interrogation, I request a rum and coke and a Modelo beer from the bartender. He whips them up and then slides them across the counter.

“How much have you had to drink?” I ask, picking up the rum and coke and handing it to her. She starts to reach for it, but I pull back a little, raising a brow.

She laughs. “What? Are you babysitting me now?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ve only had two.” She gives me a shit-eating grin. “Would be three if that dickhead hadn’t made me drop it.”

I chuckle, then hand her the drink. “Three is a good number.”

She wraps her glossed lips around the skinny straw. I look away before she can catch me staring at them, taking several gulps of beer.

“And speaking of the group I came with, they were doing coke in the parking lot before we came in. That’s not really my thing. I think they hate me even more because I didn’t want to try it.”

“So just stay where you are then.”

“Here? With you? Why are you even here? This doesn’t seem like your kind of scene either.”

“It’s not. I came with a client, but he’s a dick.”

She giggles. “Look at us. The pity party duo.” Placing her glass down on the counter, she climbs onto the stool in front of her to sit.

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it that. You just don’t like sniffin’ coke, and I don’t like watchin’ a married man act like a teenage boy with two girls on his dick.”

“Whoa.” She bursts out laughing. “That’s who you’re stuck with? But shouldn’t you love that? The girls, I mean? You aren’t married, are you?” She looks down at my hands. “No ring.”

“No, I’m not married. But that doesn’t mean I want two random girls on my dick either.”

She fights a smile, picking her drink up and sipping again. “That’s bullshit. It’s pretty much every man’s dream.”

“Okay…maybe. But not here at a club that reeks of sweat and horniness.”

She cracks another smile.

I smirk before taking a chug of my beer, and then look at the dance floor. It’s jam-packed now. Everyone is wearing green for St. Patrick’s Day. Some of them are even drinking green beer and paying seven bucks extra for it, just so they can post it on social media. Morons.

“Why aren’t you married, Mr. Ward?” Gabby asks, stealing my attention away again.

“Just haven’t found the one, I guess.”

“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?”

“Nope. Not since I went back to school, and that only lasted a month.”

“Seriously?” Her eyes nearly pop out of her head.

I shrug and sip again. She sips too.

straw out of her drink and chugs it down before slamming the empty glass on the counter.

“Give you one better. We smoke the joint on the way to your house. Get a ride and a buzz at the same time.”

She grins, like this is nothing new to her, yet it still excites her. “Even better.”

When we make it back home, I’m surprised to see Marcel is still in the backyard. He’s standing close to the door, hands planted on the folded table in front of him as he reads over a blueprint. I watch him while pulling out Callie’s dog bowl and toys.

Like he feels my gaze, he looks up, but I look away, handing a squeaky ball to Callie. There’s a knock on one of

“Do you not like commitment?”

“I wouldn’t say that I don’t like it. Just doesn’t fit me.”

“So, if you found this perfect woman, and she seemed like a match made in heaven, you wouldn’t try to make it work?”

“I would try, but nine times out of ten she’d be too good to be true. Nobody’s perfect, and people come and go.”

“Well, of course nobody’s perfect, but you learn to love the person for who they are, imperfections and all.”

“Is that how you love your husband?”

She narrows her eyes at me and her whole mood changes. Fuck. I couldn’t help myself. Why did I have to go there?

“Wow.” She grabs her drink and pulls her clutch from beneath her armpit. “You’re even more of a dick when you drink,” she snaps, hopping off the stool.

She flags the bartender down, but he’s hardly paying attention again.

“What are you doin’, Gabby?”

“Leaving this pity party.” She has her debit card out and yells for the bartender.

“Come on, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m just giving you hell.”

“Yeah, when don’t you give me hell?” She glares up at me.

I don’t smile, even though I really want to. She’s cute when she’s upset. A damn firecracker.

“I ordered that drink for you, so let me pay for it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t need you to.” The bartender finally comes to where she’s standing. I have a feeling that if she weren’t so attractive, he’d have rolled his eyes before coming her way, but he did a double take and rushed right over.

“I got a rum and coke,” she says, sliding her card across the counter. I place my hand on top of her card and fish my wallet out with my free hand.

“Marcel, what are you doing?”

I ignore her, slapping a twenty on the counter. The bartender doesn’t hesitate to take it. I pick Gabby’s card up and hand it back to her. “I’m sure you don’t want your husband seein’ the charges from a bar on your card, do you? I’ve got a feelin’ he doesn’t even know you’re here.”

Her eyes are wide now. A deeper dip forms between her brows. “Actually, I’ve bought two drinks with his card,

so it doesn’t matter, and if he asked, I’d tell him where I went. I swear you are the biggest fucking asshole I have ever met!”

She snatches up her drink and tries to elbow herself away from me, but I catch her arm, fighting a smile.

“Get the hell off of me,” she snaps.

“I’m just teasin’ you, little thing! Calm down!”

She’s standing in front of me now, her drink clutched in hand. “What’s so funny about sharing money with my husband?” she demands.

“I never said anything about it bein’ funny. I just like how riled up you get when I say somethin’ about him to you.”

“Yeah, because my marriage is such a joke.” She rolls her eyes, and the sarcasm is heavy in her tone.

I hold my hands up innocently. “Never said that.”

“You’re lucky I’m pissed at him, otherwise I’d throw my drink in your face.”

“Would you now?” I fight a grin.

She’s fighting one too. “Hell no. I wouldn’t waste a good drink on you. You’re insane.” She looks back at the booth where her friends are. “I should get back before Meredith starts wondering what’s taking me so long.” She starts to turn, but I catch her by the arm. She clashes into me, gasping.

“What are you—”

“Those women will do their best to convince you to do coke one way or another. Trust me. I know women like that. I’ve attended several events with women like them. They’ll make you out as the new girl and tell you that’s the way to fit in. Don’t be like them.”

“I’m not,” she breathes.

“Weed is better. Still illegal here, but better.”

She narrows her eyes. “Wait…you have weed?”

“Do you smoke it?”

“I used to—a lot, actually. In college. Made the whole college experience more fun.”

“I only smoke it on the weekends.” I look at the exit. “You’ve had a shit week. I have a joint in my truck. Wouldn’t mind sharin’ it with you.”

She’s debating with herself. Her eyes shift back over to the booth. I look with her and see the ladies she came with taking shots now. They aren’t even thinking twice about her, and as if she realizes it too, she nods.

“Okay. Fine. We share it, and then you can take me home. I’ll text Meredith and let her know.” She plucks the

I’m sure it isn’t the greatest idea to have Marcel drop me off. What he said to me in the kitchen is proof enough that he’s interested in me and that I should stay far away, and at the club, he was definitely flirting. I should have walked away when I said I was going to.

I’m a married woman. I shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea of this man, yet when his eyes drop to my legs or my chest, I can’t ignore the heat that builds up inside me. I secretly love that it’s hard for him to look away.

The thing I like about Marcel is that even though he may be interested, he knows his limits. He’s been close all night, but not as close as he got to me in my kitchen. Maybe he, too, realized that it was wrong—wrong for him to even admit that to me—and he’s making up for it by staying in the friend zone.

Because that’s all he can be. A friend

. I can’t wait to break the patio in and make use of it. Now that it’s done, though, I’ll probably never see Marcel again.

For the past two weeks, he hasn’t come around much. He visited three times out of the past two weeks, and each time was very brief. No longer than fifteen to twenty minutes each visit, and that was only to check on the yard and to make sure his crew was making progress.

I spotted him from my studio during those three visits, while Callie would either gnaw on her toys or sleep. Every time he left, he would look up at the arched window of my studio, like he was looking for me,