More Than Want You

I nearly stumble on my tongue.

“She can’t. She’s got plans,” I say vaguely.

I’m uncomfortable that I’m lying like a motherfucker. I’m even aware that in the last twelve hours my morals have been…iffy. But I’m going to get business managed, then I’m going to be the most devoted husband for the rest of my life.

If Keeley will still have me.

“Why don’t I take you and Jamie to dinner somewhere? Coconut’s?”

“Sure.” She smiles. “Fish tacos sound great. Makaio had to hop over to Oahu for a meeting until Thursday, so it will just be the three of us.”

“Fantastic.” I’m relieved actually. He’s a decent guy and all…but I feel weird seeing her with someone other than my brother. Stupid, I know. But they just seemed so meant to be. “Did you…um, accept his proposal?”

“Not yet,” she says with a shake of her head. “Jamie slammed his finger in a door last night. He’s okay, but we had to make a trip to the ER. His finger needs a splint for the next two weeks, but you can’t tell a toddler to leave something like that alone, so we had to wait to see the orthopedic surgeon on call and get his advice. We got home late. So Makaio and I didn’t get to talk about anything before he left and I collapsed into bed.”

Then this dinner is perfect timing. I can spend time with Jamie and make sure Britta doesn’t find out where Keeley is tonight…while I talk her out of marrying a guy she doesn’t love.

Rob emerges from the bathroom, checking his long, floppy bang in the mirror one last time before he flips off the light. He frowns. “You two all right?”

“Fine.” Britta checks her watch. “Actually, if you’re happy with our progress on the presentation, I’m going to scoot out a few minutes early to pick Jamie up. I told his pediatrician that I’d swing by so she could look at his finger, too. She’ll probably set his entire hand and forearm in a cast until it heals.”

“Seven o’clock okay?”

“Perfect.” She shuts off her computer and retrieves her purse.

“I’ll pick you up.”

Seconds later, she dashes out of the office. Rob watches her go. The second the door swings shut behind her, he turns to me with an expectant stare.

I know what he wants. Goddamn, he’s always been a pushy bastard. I more than slightly resent his interference.

“Keeley is having dinner with Griff tonight. I lied to Britta and I feel like a heel. Back off.”

Suddenly, he’s all smiles as he claps me on the back. “I knew you’d come to your senses. You’re not the kind of man to put pussy before profit.”

I snap. I don’t know why. He’s made similar statements in the past, and his point of view made sense to me back then.

Now it just pisses me off.

Without any conscious decision, I find myself picking Rob up by his shirt and shoving him against the wall. “Shut the fuck up. Keeley is not just a pussy. She’s a woman. She’s smart. She has a big heart. And she deserves respect. You know, maybe you’re not married because you treat women like interchangeable whores.”

“What the hell is up your ass? ’Cause let me remind you, you’re no better, chief. I don’t know what kind of special magic this woman’s cunt has, but it’s addled your brain. You’re being an asshole. Get your hands off me.”

I let go—but I don’t step back. “I’m opening my eyes. I’m seeing the value of women as people and I feel like a prick that I didn’t do it sooner. But I had my old man as a role model, so it took me extra time to pull my head out of my ass. What’s your excuse for being a miserable misogynist?”

“Fuck you.” He pushes me away. “I respect women. I’m great with clients. I’ve never treated Britta as anything other than my peer and my equal.”

I actually can’t fault him there. He’s golden to clients. He’s been pleasant, kind, deferential, even fatherly at times with Britta. He’s helped her assemble a swing set for Jamie, rescued her when her car got a flat in the rain, and helped look after her when she sprained her ankle. I know he’s not in love with her or anything. To him, women are either Madonnas or whores, no in between.

That used to be me. I see that now. I feel like an asshole all over again.

I’m thankful once more that Keeley came into my life.

“See if you can extend that to the other women around you. You threatened to quit yesterday if I didn’t all but whore out my…” Girlfriend? Love? I can’t say fiancée…yet. “Well, Keeley. But let’s get one thing clear: I will fire your ass if your attitude doesn’t improve.”

I stare Rob down. Regardless of the bluster, we’ve been friends. He knows when I mean business. Plus, he’s got a bit of short man’s disease. He talks bigger than he actually is or feels. Once he knows this chauvinist shit bugs me, he’ll back off. I can’t change his heart and mind, but I can sure as hell adjust how he behaves around the office.

“Okay.” He frowns as if he doesn’t understand why I’m making a big deal out of this, then straightens his tie. “You don’t have to get cranky.”

“I didn’t appreciate you threatening me yesterday. Keeley is going to try to get the job done, but she’s not spreading her legs for anyone. Don’t expect her to. And I can’t guarantee that she’ll succeed in throwing Griff off his A game. If you have a problem with that—”

“I don’t,” he rushes to tell me. “It was never a guarantee. I just wanted to make sure you were giving it effort.”

“I am. Leave it there.”

With a nod, I shut down my computer, grab my keys, and get the hell out of the office. As I head to my car, I text Keeley to tell her I’m taking Britta and Jamie to dinner. She tells me to enjoy and says she’s leaving my condo now.

Call me when you’ve left his place. And don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable or unhappy.

Fine.

There’s that word again. I hope she’s okay…but I remember some bit on YouTube where a guy said that when a woman says she’s “fine,” she’s pretty much mad enough to cut your balls off. Before I can call her to check on her again, a client rings about an upcoming closing. I slide into my car and assure him that everything is going smoothly while I walk him through the process and paperwork. Thirty minutes later, I’m sure she’s already close to Griff’s. I guess I’ll have to wait to talk to her until later tonight, so I pick up my dry cleaning. By then it’s too late for me to swing home before going to Britta’s. It’s fine. A few extra minutes with Jamie will be nice.