Xander and Carla Wilcox

The look on his face was priceless. It almost made the situation worth it. Almost.

Frankie Donovan said, "She'll still get alimony from your high-paying job."

Oh, that was a hoot. A real laugh riot. I guffawed. "What job? I haven't had a job since we got married."

Frankie's face looked like it was about to explode. "Don't try to pull that on me. You leave every day to go to work."

"I pretend to go to work. I'm home by six every evening. Tell me, have you ever heard of a person earning what you thought was my income not having to spend a single day of overtime? My 'salary' has been a stipend given by Cyrus. He knows I'm good for repayment. I've never done a day's work even though I have an office."

Carla looked confused, perplexed even. "What do you do when you're away then love?"

Francis gave her a look at the word "love."

She caught the look. "I'm sorry, honey. Just habit."

I was beaming as I spoke to Carla. I'd been waiting to unveil this, knowing the duplicity I'd anticipated and been aware of for a while. The only reason someone like Carla would be with a string-bean-mutant like me after the first night, had to mean she knew about my money. The recordings just confirmed what I had always known, deep inside. "I'll answer the question, love." Yeah, I was throwing a bit of gasoline on that fire. "I've been taking dance lessons, working out, learning martial arts and taking college courses. I've been busy."

Carla looked at me in a way she never had before. It was akin to admiration, at least that's how it looked. If not that, at least a start.

Frankie didn't notice that, he was thinking about the millions he suddenly realized he'd no longer have access to, or even the thousands. All that was left for him was to paint the best face on a scheme that didn't pan out. "You're still a cuckold. I cuckolded you for years."

I did laugh then. I laughed really hard. It was funny. Carla looked a bit guilty and Frankie looked at me like I was crazy. "Did you? Did you really? Carla was your girlfriend before we ever met. I know for a fact I've fucked her more times than you. You sent gifts to my kids thinking they were yours. You had to wear condoms and she blew you off whenever I needed her to be with me. So who's the real cuckold? That I'd really like to know."

Francis was literally shaking with rage at that point. It was something to watch as his hands twitched. I could see he wanted to respond, either verbally or physically. I was smug, prepared for either. Part of me wanted him to throw a punch. A big part actually. I wanted to humiliate him in front of his sweetheart. I'd gotten what I wanted out of the deal. I'd played the players. I'd lost the prize, but she was never mine to begin with. I'd had loved to end this drama with physical humiliation as well as the mental one. You don't fuck with a Wilcox, not even a bastard one.

Carla intervened while Francis was a trembling and a mess of rage.

She threw me a curious look. "If you knew I loved Frankie, why did you let it go on so long? Until the very end and last minute, as I see it?" She seemed... something.

"A wise man once told me to get all you could out of the tube of toothpaste."

Frankie bellowed, "I told you rich people are crazy! The world would be better if they got their testicles removed!" He was agitating himself and I felt this was close to getting physical. I was hoping it would. That would be the icing on the cake, and I used to lick the icing off of the blender whisks.

Carla stroked his arm. "Frankie, let's just go with the kids."

Her attempt to placate did not go over well. His face turned red, redder than a normal person, since he was so pale. "HIS kids?! No fucking way. I'm not raising someone else's brats."

Carla was still trying to soothe him. "They're my kids too. I gave them the names we talked about."

He just took her hand, forcefully, she sure didn't seem to want to leave. "We are NOT raising any kids not mine! Get your cunt ass into the car." He walked away pulling her along with him.

She did give me a look before she left. Maybe regret, maybe an apology, maybe both? Maybe concern for our children? It was hard to tell. She did leave with him though. I was happy a plan had come together, but also sad. The look in her eyes made me uncertain I'd done the right thing. I had always wanted to believe that some part of her affection toward me was real. Her look made me think it was possible; I'd also been betrayed by that face before.

Our divorce went quickly. It wasn't contested, which pleased and surprised me, and I never saw Carla while it played out. The lawyers handled it. Mine was one of the best and hers was hired off a sign she saw on a bus. Mine sent terms and hers agreed to them. It didn't surprise me because I had no assets she could claim, but it also hurt. I had hoped she would be concerned about visitation with our children. I was generous with visitation, but she didn't ask for more. It was like she wanted to be free of all of us and start a new life with her true love. The fact she didn't fight me in any way just left me feeling she was happy to move on without me and our children.

It was three months after the divorce before I saw her. She was the one that reached out to me, if you can believe that. She called me and asked if we could meet. I got those messages on voicemail. I was prone to ignoring her calls, but I did listen to them. All she said was, "Call me please, I want to talk.' She did that several times. Not the most compelling reason to return a call since I didn't want to talk at all and was wanting to move on. I ignored her calls and didn't return them. I did take Mama Ruggiero's call. That was a call I couldn't refuse. I loved that woman. She never shined me on even knowing the situation with her daughter. I believed she'd been in the dark even though I could see she had suspicions. She always assumed the best but kept her eyes open.

"You need to speak to Carla."

"Mama, why should I do that? I have to tell you, my stomach roils with just the seeing of her."

"My daughter is a mess. She's in her old room and a mess. She's a real mess. Messed up really. You need to understand my son, and yes you are the son I wish I had, she does love you. She's messed up, but she's right now. You need to listen to her. If you can't do it for her, do it for me."

She calling me "son" meant a lot to me. My mother that adopted me also meant a lot. I was agreeable and picked the place. The place I picked was in public. I was suspicious and wanted witnesses to any conversation.

Carla was dressed like she always dressed. Her outfit was tight and showed her goods. It was the look that had first enticed me. After all that had happened, it still did. Maybe even more. It had been a while after all.

I just said, "So Carla, this is your meeting. Just get to it."

She looked at me and replied, "I love you. Look I know there's a lot of water under the bridge, and some of that brackish. You are the man for me, not my main man, the only man I want."

Of all the things I expected, it wasn't that. I had thought she'd ask for money, berate me for being a terrible lover... anything but what she said. She said she loved me.

I still had my ego. She did walk out the door. "You left me."

"It was the biggest mistake of my life. I was happy with you, I just never realized it. I want to be your wife again. It's kinda up to you, if you'll have me that is."

My heart melted at that point, and that immediately. She didn't seem interested in my money, she was interested in me. Me. My emotions addled my brain. The next words out of my mouth were not in my best interest, but I said them anyway. I wanted her with me forever.

"We'll have a prenuptial agreement. My family wanted that in the beginning, but I have to tell ya, I'm the one wanting it now. If we divorce, you'll only get five million dollars."

"Why should I get that? That's a third of your trust fund."

"No it's not."

"Please don't be funnin'. My half was going to be 15 million and your half was going to be 15 million. So since I won't get my half 5 million is one third of your 15."

I didn't want to disabuse her of that notion, especially since the original 30 million I had been left with had grown into much, much more.

"I don't want that though."

"You don't think a third of my inheritance is reasonable?"

"No I do not. Not hardly."

I was thinking that a leopard never really does change its spots. I was wrong but it certainly wasn't the first time, so I was used to it. What she said next floored me. I thought I'd been surprised, it was nothing to what came next.

"I shouldn't get anything. Not ever."

"Why is that?"

"If I don't have you, I don't have nothing. If you divorce me again, I will lose the most valuable thing in my life. I made a big mistake and there's no way I can undo that. But I am going to try to make it up to you. I can't have you wondering if I will leave you for money every time we have a disagreement, buster."

She surprised me there. "What do you mean by, 'the most valuable thing?'"

"You. I mean you."

Happy as I was, I still had doubts. I wanted them gone and soon. So we didn't have sex, even though my balls could have performed with the Blue Man Group. Even though she said she didn't want my money but wanted me, I had to be sure. I wanted to date.

I took her to a dance club. She didn't question the undisclosed location, most likely because she didn't think she'd know it. Maybe she thought it was just neutral ground with no bad memories. It was the Watering Hole, the place where it all began. I paid a dollar and picked a few songs. She was shocked when I asked her to dance. She accepted though, with a puzzled look.

If I can say so, we cut a rug. We cut all that rug. We were getting attention and hoots and hollers. Carla's looks had a lot to do with that. When I told her we had a date she dressed like she normally would for a date. There was a lot of Carla on display. It did warm my ears to hear cries like, "You lucky fuck!"

When the songs were over, we sat down at a table. Carla was sweating a bit as was I, I'd really turned up the tempo. Her eyes were shining as she looked at me. "Those dance lessons paid off big time. That was something, I think I'm melting. When we met, you said you couldn't dance. I had no idea you liked it. Your body moved like you were born to it."

"I told you I didn't like to dance. And that, because I couldn't. I always wanted to. Now I can."

"I was sure a big noodle head back then. Dumb dumb dumb."

I was afraid of ruining the moment, but I needed to know. "How'd it end with Frankie?" I could refer to him as "Frankie" now, since he wasn't around to needle.

"I ran away from him. One day I was just gone and taking everything to carry to move back in with Mama. I ate a lot of crow, you can be sure of that."

I could imagine that. No way I'd ever want to be read the riot act by Mama Ruggiero. "Why is that?"

"He wanted me to raise money for the IRA. You know, an individual retirement account. I don't understand it but that's a thing. He wanted me to have sex with other men. He said I owed him since I ruined it with you."

Well, I knew Frankie was soon going to be out of the picture, and that for a lifetime. In Chicago the IRA wasn't always about retirement; in Boston, it was an indictment waiting to happen. Frankie was about to be no longer a concern. That only took a phone call. I did have to say something to Carla.

"So why was that the deal breaker, if you don't mind me asking. Sex with other men for money. You sure don't seem to care who you fuck even if you don't love them. I'm proof of that."

"I deserve that, I've earned it. But the paying for sex? I'm no cheap whore."

"That's a laugh. It really is. You married me for money. If that doesn't make you a whore I don't know what is."

Carla looked indignant, "I said I wasn't a cheap whore."

I laughed. She laughed with me. It was funny.

I was feeling good, in spite of the situation. There's something about honesty that is funny. I suppose it's because it's so rare and even funnier when rooted in pain. Someone says something true that makes themselves look bad and I have to admire that. I lived my life surrounded by dishonesty and I sure wasn't any different. I could tell myself my lies were for good reasons, or to protect myself, but I'm sure most people would say the same thing, except for the truly evil. They just don't care.

"I have no business asking, I was hoping for help. I have nowhere else to go."

"What kind of help do you want?"

"I don't know. I mean I do. I want to be with our children. I need money too, so I can have a place to live. I'm not asking you for that. I need a job even though I never worked. Maybe you can help me with those things. If you're willing, that is."

"I don't know why you're asking really. You had the sex you liked; I'm not sure why you even gave it up."

"It got bad. I didn't even like the sex with him anymore. You changed me that last night. I never had my world rocked that way and that is the truth. His smaller cock just didn't do it for me any more. I had to think about you just to get off."

Well. That was a new insight. "I can do that. I need someone to take care of our children. I can pay you to do that."

"Enough so I can find a place?"

"You won't need a place. You'll live in our home."

"Huh? I don't understand. You said our home. It's your home now isn't it?"

"It was always our home. You just left it."

She was silent then. Her tears did all the talking for a while. She was shuddering and seemed like she was trying to speak a few times, then stopped. She did finally did though, speak that is. She had wiped away her tears before starting.

"I realize I love you. No that's not right. I realize I love you now, if that makes sense. I loved Frankie but I loved you more. I don't expect you to believe that but it's true."

It was hard to know what to say. "You told me you liked the sex with him, then you liked the sex with me. Where's the love?"

"Want to know the truth? You never had that love. Frankie did."

It was everything I knew to be true. It still hurt to hear it said out loud. "I know. You had mine though. You always had my love, even when I knew I wasn't your number one man."

She either saw a look in my face or just heard the sadness in my voice. "I didn't say that right. You didn't have it then, but you've had it. I didn't mean 'never.' Just true back then, not now though. I know this is not making sense. I love you and think I always did in some way. Well, not immediately. I should just stop talking."

I was hating her talking until I heard the word 'now.' That word uplifted me, but I wasn't without reservations. "Why now?"

I was on pins and needles about the answer. The next words were going to determine my response. If I didn't hear the word 'love,' it was not happening. I fully expected to hear how I was just a source of income, or a good father, or someone that made her feel safe and showed her affection. All those things I felt were true, but I didn't want to be the person someone settled for without loving me in return. She waited to answer, maybe only a second but it felt like an eternity.

"I realized I loved you. I love you. You are practically perfect in every way."

Tension evaporated and was replaced by joy. She had chosen the perfect reference with that quote. "You mean like Mary Poppins?"

"I don't know what you mean by that. I'm not a lesbian, if that's what you're asking."

She said the perfect thing, but not for the reason I was thinking. None of it should have worked out, but it did.

Helluva thing.

So yup, I'm still a sucker for a happy ending. At least as happy as possible while playing in Matt Moreau's sandbox. This story may both piss off my fans and Matt's as well. The one critic I'm most interested is Matt Moreau. I hope I didn't disappoint an OG. He's one of the ones that built this category.

As always, I'll respond to all comments posted in two days. Emails sometimes take longer.

Thanks as always to my editor Lue. You should also read her stories. A shout out to SPP for reading the female parts of the sex scenes out loud. If you share stories with your partner, I recommend you do it. ;) Also a final shout out to the anonymous person who commented on one of my stories with the Mary Poppins line. It was too good not to put into a story.