“Not much more embarrassing than standing at the altar, waiting on your bride to walk down the aisle. Church filled with people who’d been calling you a match made in heaven. Then her father approaches me and leans forward, telling me Sabrina needs to speak with me.”
The memory rushes back to me. Sabrina Carrera was different from anyone I’d ever met before. First, she was ten years younger than me in my thirties. In contrast to Jen’s acorn brunette coloring, Sabrina had midnight black hair and looked sleek in business suits and fitted skirts. She had dreams and ambitions of being something bigger than our small community, but her energy never bothered me. In fact, she was refreshing after Jennifer, who was a little too complacent at times and often gave in to my whims instead of following her own desires. If I liked pepperoni on pizza, Jen liked pepperoni. If I wanted to wear jeans and be casual, Jen wore jeans to be casual. If I wanted to watch a ballgame, then Jen watched a ballgame. Jen only had one focus all her own—a child.
“Sabrina wanted bright lights and big city, so it never made sense for us to be together. She should have gone to New York, but instead, she worked in a bank in Montpelier. I could never quite explain it, but Sabrina was just vibrant. She was also superficial.”
She loved gifts, and the fool that I was, I showered her with them. I gave her whatever she wanted, and in return, I had a young, beautiful woman on my arm, reviving my sexuality.
“After the breakup with Jen, I just needed different, and Sabrina was it. It felt good to be wanted for more than my sperm donation.”
Scarlett stills her fingertips on my forearm, and I mumble an apology. It isn’t like that with Scarlett. Jen and I had become so perfunctory in our relationship, and her ability to adapt to whatever I wanted that it eventually pissed me off. I wanted a woman with a mind of her own. High spirited and definitely spoiled, Sabrina had been the opposite of my first wife.
“I don’t know how we’d gotten to the wedding ceremony itself. It was like one minute we were discussing marriage, and the next thing I know, we are making an announcement. Sabrina was in love with the idea of a wedding. I wanted her to be happy, and I also wanted her to stick around. I didn’t want her to run off to New York.” I’d wanted the farm to be enough for her, but I should have seen the signs. We spent a lot of time at her place in Montpelier. As I partially blamed living on the farm for the breakup of my marriage at the time, as Jen and I never had any privacy, being away from it for a while was refreshing. With Sabrina, we had a ton of separation from the farm while doing the costly things Sabrina wanted to do.
“I never had a hint she was unhappy, or maybe I just wasn’t listening. When an ex-boyfriend came into town a week before the wedding, I wasn’t even concerned. But he’d apparently been making her promises of more, and he was her ticket out of this area. She’d never mentioned to anyone that she didn’t want to be a farmer’s wife.”
I close my eyes, recalling the awkward moment I walked into the bridal room at the church. Her veil removed. Her dress wrinkled. What could be worse than her father walking in on another man up her skirt before the wedding? The thought of it made me sick to my stomach. In order to save his pride, Giuseppe Carrera demanded his daughter face me. I’d paid for most of the wedding when he couldn’t afford all the things his daughter wanted.
“His name was Brett.” Not that that means anything, but I share it anyway.
“We hate people named Brett,” Scarlett whispers in a show of solidarity with me, and I smile as the tension of Sabrina’s memory dissolves.
“It was a blessing in disguise.”
“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Scarlett’s low voice expresses her sincerity, and after her cheating husband, I know she understands.
“Next came Gisela.” I decide to skip over the fine details of Gisela’s wild sexual tendencies. The things she wanted me to do with her could have been criminal, but I loved them. She was very in touch with who she was and what she wanted in the bedroom, and I was happy to oblige. “Gisela was an artist. Painting was her medium, and she felt she’d found her inspiration at the farm.”
Again, Scarlett bristles under my arm, and I press a quick kiss to her shoulder. Her stroking fingertips continue as if coaxing the remainder of my story out of me.
“Gisela was a bit of a Bohemian. Wanderlust mixed with her creativity, and she said the farm fed her spirit but apparently, only temporarily.” Gisela’s blond hair in lengthy dreadlocks gave her an earthy appearance. She made her own clothing of flowing skirts and loose tops out of natural fabrics. She also wore tons of bracelets and necklaces. “Gisela actually lived in Colebury for a while but spent many days out here, feeding her soul as she said. She told people I was her spirit animal, and we would get married one day.”
Scarlett starts out with a soft chuckle, but her body continues to quake, struggling to contain more.
“Don’t laugh,” I teasingly warn, as my tone gives away my own chuckle. My head lowers for the back of hers once again, and Scarlett loses the fight against her laughter.
“We didn’t know she was actually stealing from people in the community. Little things, but items of value all the same, slowly went missing over time.”
The memory of confronting her when I saw her wearing my grandmother’s ring made acid boil in my stomach. When I confronted her about it, she accused me of not trusting her, saying I didn’t love her enough, and if I did love her, I should have given her that ring anyway.
“The breakup with her was public as she threw my grandmother’s ring, which I hadn’t given her, back at me, stating I was reserved and standoffish and didn’t give her what she needed.” Whether she meant sexually, spiritually, or otherwise, I would never know. Gisela ran off one night without another word to anyone in the area. We later learned she’d stolen my mother’s china serving platter and a silver gravy boat for whatever reason.
I quiet, recalling a nasty headline once reported about me.
“Mr. Not Quite Right, an article read,” I whisper, and Scarlett’s fingertips pause.
“Those women don’t know what they could have had,” Scarlett generously states. “It’s their loss, although I’d say you dodged a couple of losers there, Bull. And that article got it wrong. You’re perfect.”
I smile at her kind words.
“Anyway, I swore off women but quickly realized that wasn’t possible. I like women too much,” I joke, squeezing at her lower belly. “Blade and Clayton thought they’d be childish dicks and signed me up for MateMe and DatingDairy to get me back out there, proving to myself I could get worthy women.” I huff. “I’d only gone on a few dates before I swore it off. I needed more than a profile to assess a person. Women aren’t cows to be purchased from a catalog.”
I pause, waiting for Scarlett to admonish the full confession, but she doesn’t. Her body holds still, but her fingertips continue to rub up and down my arm.
“Well, thank goodness you think that,” Scarlett teases, playfully swatting at my arm. “Otherwise, I’m pretty certain I wouldn’t qualify under home goods or domestication products.”
I snort. “I don’t want to domesticate you, Scarlett. You have nothing to worry about. I’m no longer interested in marriage.” Well … that isn’t exactly true. It’s just not at the forefront of my thoughts, as it seems to be an eternal impossibility for me.