FORBIDDEN FRUIT

• seven •

Adaline

“Do you ever think of having babies?”

That makes me choke on my food. The choking is so bad that I spit out the chewed beef on a serviette. Ace says sorry and passes me a glass of water.

I chug down the water, clear my throat and fix my eyes on him.

“No.” Pause. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Pause. “I've been thinking about it lately.”

That throws me into a ball of confusion and my mind is swirling in different directions. Thank God I don't have food in my mouth now. I would've spit it out on the plate. Thank God I don't have water in my mouth. I would've splashed it on his face.

“Ace.” I sigh. “I've always wanted to be a mother. You know that. And you've never wanted to be a father. I know that. So, please stop. Don't build a castle of hope just for you to tear it down. I've made peace with the fact that I'll never be a mother. So, don't dangle a carrot infront of me knowing that it's made of plastic.”

The table is haunted by dead silence.

So silent that I can hear the couple behind me, gushing over their pregnancy and making plans for their new baby. A lump grows in my throat. I'll never get to have what they have. I'll never be sitting in a restaurant, pregnant, gushing over my pregnancy and making plans for our new baby with Ace.

Ace drops the subject. I'm relieved.

He switches the subject to Atticus. Kill me now.

“I'm sorry that I never told you about Atticus.”

“I understand.”

He's an àsshole. That's why he never told me a single thing about him in the five years I've known him. I wouldn't be proud either if he was my brother. He would be my best kept secret. Actually, he's my best kept secret.

“No.” He says. “You're my best friend. I should've told you about him. That was not the way I planned for you to find out about him. And I'm sorry I lost it at the table earlier. I just can't stand him.”

Ace can't stand a lot of things.

“It's okay.” I say softly. “Whatever reason you had to keep him a secret, I know it's valid.”

That makes him smile.

I watch the smile fade away when he starts talking about Atticus again. I watch as his eyes slowly grow sad. That's the Atticus effect. All he does is stab smiles and spread sadness.

“My father died when I was five.” He starts. “Atticus was ten. I don't remember a single thing about my father. The only version I have of him in my head is from the sweet stories my mother and Atticus told me over the years. The pancakes he used to make us. The park we used to go to. The pictures we used to take. The bikes we rode. The movies we watched. The big hugs he gave. I don't remember my father doing any of those things. The only person I can remember doing that was my brother.”

A painful pause.

“And then he just disappeared.”

Another painful pause.

“Now he's back.” He says. “And it sucks that he's back. And there's no one to blame but me. I begged for him to come back.”

I stare at him in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

He buries his face in his hands, face flushed.

“The company is going bankrupt.” He sighs. “I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Plus, it's embarrassing. And humiliating. But the company is going bankrupt. Investors are pulling out. I've been reaching out to a couple of investors to try and save the company but no one hops on a sinking ship unless they are stupid and suìcidal. Atticus must be both of those things because he's the only investor that said yes.”

He drinks the wine angrily. As if he's trying to drink down the anger. Wash away the pain. He sets the glass down.

“And I hate him for saying yes.” He continues. “I hate him even more now for saying yes. For years, I've been telling myself that he's dead in a ditch somewhere. For years, I've been telling myself that there's no way he's alive. And then a few weeks ago, Mom's friend reached out to her and told her all about her successful son. Turns out, Atticus had made it big as a music producer. Turns out he's a billionaire. Turns out, he's very much alive. And rich.”

He pours another glass of wine and drinks it down angrily. So angry that I can see the veins in his temples and how heavy he's breathing and how shaky his hands are as he downs the glass.

He hates the existence of Atticus. But no one hates his existence more than I do. I honestly wish he was dead. He's torture to look at. He reminds me that I almost had sèx with a total stranger. He reminds me that I went back to the hotel room of a total stranger. He reminds me that I slept in bed with a total stranger. He reminds me of all the bad parts about myself. He reminds me that I'm a wicked wife. And now he wants me to divorce the only man that I love with all my heart. I fùcking hate him.

“This part will make you hate me more.” Ace says. “And I totally understand it if you never forgive me.”

“What is it?”

“In exchange of being an investor, he asked to be my roommate.” My heart sinks. “He will be staying with us for a couple of weeks. Or months. Hopefully weeks.”

My heart sinks deeper.

••••

Maybe I'm a good wife.

A wonderful wife. A wonderful wife who smiles and smiles and smiles until the edges of her lips are in pain.

When Ace told me that his bloody brother was going to live with us, I smiled and said it's okay. But nothing is okay. That man's face is torture. That man's body is torture. Mixed with temptation. That man's mouth is the one thing I hate the most about him. That mouth is the same mouth that asked me to divorce my husband. In exchange for money. Can you believe it?

“I'm so sorry.”

Ace says when he pulls up to the driveway. The lights are on in our house. It looks like a dream.

“For what?”

“We talked so much about Atticus that I forgot to ask about your conference.” He says. “How was it? Did you have fun?”

“I had fun.” I shrug. “But I'm so freaking tired. Let's talk about it tomorrow.”

We step out of the car.

Something surprising happens.

Ace takes my hand. We walk to the front porch, holding hands.

Something even more surprising happens.

Ace grabs the back of my neck and bends to kiss me deeply when we get to the door.

Something even more surprising happens.

Atticus opens the door and Ace is quick to sweep me off my feet, carrying me upstairs. We completely ignore him. I giggle the entire way up the stairs. Not because I'm enjoying it. Only because I want to annoy Atticus.

Ace slams the door close and throws me on the bed.

Then he says the most surprising four words.

“I wanna fùck you.”

It's completely normal for husbands to tell that to their wives. But it's so strange when Ace says it to me. That's because our marriage is not a normal marriage.

We've never had sèx. In the five years we've known each other and the one year we've been married, we've never had sèx.

Ace has never fùcked me.

••••