Beyond the Breaking Point (23 page)

At six forty-five promptly Phillip stepped through the doors of Maggio’s, carrying a single red rose in his hand. “I believe you have a reservation for Brannon, Phillip and Cassidy,” he said to the hostess.

“Of course, Mr. Brannon.” She glanced down at her chart and then over her shoulder, into the slightly dim room. “Your table is ready. Would you like to be seated or do you prefer to wait for your wife?”

“I’m a little early so I’ll go ahead and be seated to keep from blocking the doorway.”

She grabbed two menus. “If you’ll follow me?”

As he followed her to the table, he couldn’t help but notice she had a nice ass on her. She probably enjoyed a long hard ride. He could tell by the way she moved.

She came to a stop and laid the menus on the table. “Would you like something to drink while you wait?”

He pulled out his chair and took a seat. “No, I’ll wait on my wife.”

“I’ll let your server know you have another party coming.”

“Thank you,” Phillip said, promptly dismissing the woman from his mind as she walked off.

Phillip placed the rose on the table within easy reach, straightened his tie, and then tugged on his cuff links. He had on the gold shirt Cassidy had given him as a Christmas present, saying she loved the way the gold contrasted with his skin. With it he wore a golden-brown suit with chocolate accents. Even the tie was brown with flecks of gold. He looked good. A man should look good when his wife announces she’s willing to forgive him and take him back.

It had taken eight weeks. Two months of calling, sending flowers, showing up on her doorstep, and damn near begging for her to change her mind. He wondered how she would handle it. There was the apartment she was paying for. As frugal as Cassidy was, he doubted she’d simply break the lease. No, she’d keep the apartment and live in it.

That might be a good thing while they attended counseling. The last time was rough. More than one argument had sparked and burned after returning home from a counseling session. Maybe going home to different residences would give them time to cool off and reflect without turning on each other.

One thing he’d insist on was having a key. Her apartment was her space and he’d respect it, but he didn’t want a locked door separating him from his wife at night. And he’d insist that she spend at least a few nights a week with him in their home. He didn’t mind sleeping with her at her place, but he didn’t want Cassidy forgetting where she belonged while they worked through their issues.

He missed his wife. Missed curling up around her sexy body at night. He missed sex. Sex in the morning, shower sex, sex in the middle of the night because he woke up needing her. Hell yeah, he missed sex. Jacking off kept the pressure from building, but there was nothing like holding a naked woman in your arms, pounding your hard dick into her soft flesh. Hearing her moan, gasp, and cry out as she called your name. Or feeling her soft lips gliding over your cock as she took you deep.

Cassidy wasn’t the best at giving blowjobs, but she tried. She just didn’t have the talent for it like some women did. Women like that bitch at the bar. She’d deep-throated him like a pro. Or like Amber. That ’ho had purred when he’d rammed his thick, long dick down her throat, licked her lips, and panted for more.

He remembered the way she’d looked on her knees before him, lips red and puffy from the pressure of sucking his cock. Her big breasts had fallen into his hands like ripe melons. When he’d thrust his fingers in her pussy, it had been slick with cream, telling him more than words that she’d wanted him bad. A lot of women did. They recognized a man that could give it to them good.

Suddenly, he scowled and took a sip of the ice waiter the waiter had silently brought to the table. That bitch was the reason he was in this predicament, he reminded himself.

“All women are bitches, son,” his father used to say. “Some simply hide it better than others. You learn how to stick it to them good enough and they’ll be panting after you like bitches in heat.”

“Why didn’t you marry my momma?” Phillip had asked his father once, when he was around nine or ten.

His father had bent down and looked him dead in the eye. “Your momma’s a good woman—the marrying kind. I treated her right while I was with, her but the truth is, she couldn’t take me where I wanted to go. When you decide to marry, you make sure you find a woman who wants the same things out of life as you, and has the education and know-how to get them. She might not be the best in bed, but you won’t ever be ashamed to take her out in public. That kind of woman, as long as you don’t screw up, she’ll stick. You won’t have to worry about whether your kids are really yours. Or when you’re out getting a little something on the side, you don’t have to worry about running into her doing the same. No, sir. You find you a woman with class and leave them welfare ’hos alone.”

Cassidy was a good woman. He wouldn’t go so far as to call all women bitches the way his father had, but there were definitely women you screwed and women you married. His wife was smart, educated, and good with money. She was going places. He’d never be ashamed to show her off in public. Cassidy had good manners. She wasn’t the most exciting lover he’d ever had, but he was working on her and she was getting better.

He glanced up as she entered the restaurant. Cassidy was beautiful, he thought, adding to her list of qualities. He smiled as she walked toward him. Cassidy had on one of her favorite dresses. One she wore when she needed a confidence boost. She’d told him once she liked the way she looked in it and knowing she looked good made her feel confidant.

Phillip liked the dress because of the way it hugged her tits and ass; the two best features on a woman, in his opinion. The dress was red and black. The red part was low cut and hugged her breasts, small though they were. The black part skimmed her body, hugged her ass, and was short enough to show off his wife’s amazing legs.

If things went according to plan, he’d spend the night fucking his wife instead of watching someone else get laid while he jacked off.

He rose as she approached and went around to her side of the table to hold out her chair. “Hey, baby, you look and smell good,” he said, briefly burying his nose in her neck and giving the flesh there a small kiss. She didn’t pull away. Phillip took that as another good sign.

“Thank you. You look nice, too.”

When he was once more seated across from her, Phillip noticed his wife was nervous and her face was pale. He took it as another positive indication. Cassidy hated admitting she was wrong. She’d do it, a lot quicker than he in fact, but she hated doing so.

“I’m glad you finally agreed to have dinner with me, and in our restaurant, too,” he said, trying to relax her.

Now she appeared wary. “I asked you here so we could talk.”

“And we will, but first let’s eat. I’m hungry.” He waved the waiting server over before Cassidy could say any more. When the man arrived, he told him, “We’d like to order our drinks now. I’ll have sweet tea. Baby, what do you want?”

“Raspberry lemonade.”

“Would you like to order now or do you need more time?” their server asked.

“I know what I want. What about you?” he asked Cassidy.

“I’ll have a Chicken Caesar salad.”

“And you, sir?”

“Chicken Scampi.”

“And for your appetizer?”

“Bring my wife a bowl of that Wedding Soup—she loves it—and I’ll have a house salad.”

“Very good, sir. I’ll be right back with your drinks and bread basket,” he said as he took their menus.

As soon as the guy left, Phillip handed Cassidy the rose. “I miss you, babe. Momma said to tell you ‘Hi’ and that she hopes you’ll be able to make it next time.”

“I’m sorry I missed seeing her too.” She brought the rose to her nose, sniffed it, and ran the petals across her bottom lip before setting it aside. Then she squared her shoulders.

He asked another question, partly in an attempt to forestall her, but mostly because he was curious. “Where were you last night? I waited outside your apartment until midnight, but you never came home. I even called your phone. You never answered.”

Careful
, he cautioned himself.
Don’t push her away right when she’s ready to forgive and forget
.

“That’s what I wanted to talk with you about. I—”

“Sir, madam? Your drinks and bread. Your appetizers are coming right up,” the server said.

As soon as he set it down, Cassidy took a quick sip of her drink. “I had an appointment last night—”

“So you said,” he interrupted.

Another server appeared at their table. “I have a house salad.”

“That’s mine,” Phillip said and moved his napkin so the waiter could set the bowl down.

“And, madam, the soup must be yours.”

“Yes,” Cassidy confirmed, mouth set in a little frown of frustration.

“Would you like parmesan cheese?” he asked, holding up the shredder.

“I’d like some,” Phillip told him.

“None for me,” she said.

The man ground cheese onto his salad until Phillip told him, “That’s good.”

“Enjoy your food,” the server said, and then left.

Phillip tossed his salad to make sure the dressing was evenly distributed. “You had an appointment, you were saying?”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you. I met with a divorce attorney last night and filed the papers,” Cassidy told him.

Chapter Thirteen

Phillip froze in the process of cutting his lettuce, thinking he’d heard wrong. Then he reminded himself it didn’t matter what his wife did. He wasn’t giving her a divorce. Actually, the more he thought about it, her filing was a good thing. Once he made it known he wasn’t in agreement with the divorce and requested counseling, the judge would order it. Cassidy would have no choice in the matter. She’d have to attend.

Cheered, he smiled at his wife, which seemed to baffle her. “I told you not to waste your money. I’m still not signing the papers.” He calmly bit the salad off his fork.

“Phillip…”

“Cassidy, baby, eat your soup before it gets cold. Did you actually think I’d change my mind simply because you filed the papers? You know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” she muttered, but obediently spooned up some soup. “Apparently, I was wrong.”

“Cassidy.” He put his fork down and covered her hand lying on the table—her left hand—and fingered her wedding band. “You know me and you love me in spite of my flaws. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t still be wearing this.” Her hand jumped under his and her gaze flew to their hands. He could tell from her expression she hadn’t thought about the ring. About what it symbolized.

“Once you get over being angry—”

“But that’s just it,” she interrupted him. “I’m not angry anymore. It’s strange, but in a way I see your point of view and empathize with your position.”

Stunned, he slumped in his seat. “Then why—”

“Let me finish. Amber going after you like that was wrong and if I ever see her again, I might be tempted to show her how I really feel about it,” she said viciously. He bit back a smile, glad that ferocity wasn’t being aimed at him for once and that she cared enough to be jealous on his behalf. “And while I still think you should have been stronger, I understand that she hit you at a weak point. I forgive you.”

“If you forgive me, Cassidy, why still file for divorce? Why are we going through this?” He didn’t understand. This was all wrong. She was supposed to forgive him and then they’d move forward with their lives. How could she say she understood and still file for divorce?

They both looked up as a server came to the table and added more water to their barely touched water glasses. “How is everything? Madam, you’ve barely touched your soup. Is it not to your liking?”

Cassidy glanced down at her bowl. “It’s great. My husband and I were talking and it distracted me from the wonderful food.”

“And, sir, your salad. Is it to your liking?”

“It’s great,” Phillip told him, barely able to conceal his impatience for the man to leave.

“Very good.” He took one long last look at the both of them before turning to address the patrons at another table.

Phillip pointed his fork at her bowl. “Eat your food so that dude will quit bothering us.”

“He’s just doing his job,” she defended.

“I realize that. I simply don’t remember the servers here being so attentive. We usually have more privacy than this.”

She frowned as she ate. “Maybe they’re new.”

Phillip waited until she’d eaten a good portion of her soup before re-asking his question, determined to get an answer that made sense. “If you’ve forgiven me, why haven’t you agreed to counseling? Why are you trying to end our marriage?”

She sighed as though he should automatically know the answer. “Because while I may have forgiven you, I haven’t forgotten. Besides, the divorce is about more than what happened with Amber. You want things I can’t give you.”

“What kinds of things?” he asked, honestly bewildered.
What the hell is she talking about?
They already had nice cars, a beautiful home, money in the bank, and upwardly mobile careers. They both wanted children. They shared the same values and the same goals in life. What did he want from her that she couldn’t and hadn’t already given him, besides a child?

Cassidy glanced around. There was no one nearby, but she still lowered her voice. “Sex, Phillip. You’re always pushing my boundaries, trying to get me to do more. I’m not going to ever be able to give you what you want.”

Is that what this is about?
Sex?
Relieved, he said, “That’s only because you won’t let yourself try. I know if you give it a chance, you’ll enjoy it.” He meant it. Cassidy was a bit of a prude, but once you got her warmed up, she had a bit of a freak in her. He wanted to bring that side of her out more. Make things more exciting for both of them.

She firmly shook her head. “No, Phillip, I won’t. I’ve done as much as I’m going to and frankly, I shouldn’t have to do anything. Why can’t you be satisfied with the sex life we have? Why aren’t I enough? I don’t understand why you want to bring other people into the mix. Do you even know or care how that makes me feel?”