The Perfect Husband's Secret novel Chapter 43

Chapter 24 

Gabriel 

འ 

I walk out of my building and see Mark standing by the car, he gives me a weak smile that 

doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good morning.” He opens the back door for me. 

“Hello,” I say as I get into the car. 

We pull out into the traffic and I watch him in the rearview mirror, his face is etched with 

worry. 

“What is it?” I ask. 

His eyes 

heavily. 

flick up to me. “What’s what?” “What’s wrong with you?” “Nothing.” He exhales 

“Don’t lie to me, you’ve been a sad sack of shit all week.” 

45 

He rolls his eyes and keeps driving, and I can’t stand it. “Pull over.” 

“What?” 

“Pull the fucking car over.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” 

He pulls the car over to the side and I get out of the car and open his car door. “Get out.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m driving today.” 

He stares at me, confused. “What the hell am I supposed to do, then?” 

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Get in the passenger seat, you idiot. Unless you want to walk home.” 

He rolls his eyes and walks around to get into the front passenger seat, and I pull back out 

onto the road. 

He looks over at me. “What are you doing?” 

“Driving.” 

“Why?” 

Because when I’m depressive and moody, you drive me, so now it’s my turn to drive you.” 

“I’m not depressive and moody.” 

“Good, because that’s my position around here.” 

We drive in silence for a while. 

“Depressive isn’t even a word,” he says casually as he looks out the window. 

I keep driving. 

“And for the record, you’re not depressive, you’re just moody,” he continues. 

“Well…for the record.” I stop at the traffic lights. “I’m not moody, people are just imbeciles.” 

“Are you calling me an imbecile?” 

“One hundred percent. Tell me what’s wrong with you.” Silence. 

“I’m driving around this city until you tell me and I don’t have time for your bullshit, spit it 

out.” 

He drags his hand through his hair. “Zoe gets married this weekend.” My heart sinks. 

Zoe was his childhood sweetheart who left him when he was on a deployment. She said she 

couldn’t put her life on hold for a man who goes to war. 

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Well…” I grip the steering wheel. “Good riddance to her.” He nods sadly. 

You are seeing someone else, why do you care what Zoe is doing?” I ask as I turn another 

corner. 

Silence. 

He shrugs. “I’m not seeing her anymore.” 

“Oh. Why not?” 

just… I compare everyone to her, you know?” I do know. 

I listen as I drive. 

“And I know we can’t be together and I don’t even want to be, but…” He hesitates. 

“But what?” I ask. 

“Thinking of Zoe takes me back to a time in my life when I was happy and everything was ŝimple because she was the only girl in the world that I wanted.” 

The traffic comes to a standstill. 

“Every woman just seems so average.‘ 

“Amen to that.” I sigh. “I thought it was just me.” 

We keep driving in silence. 

“Maybe we’re just getting old and maybe the thrill we used to get from love has lost its 

luster,” he says. 

“It’s possible.” I shrug. “Probable, actually.” 

I turn another corner as we drive and an idea comes to mind. 

call the office. 

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Good morning, Mr. Ferrara,” Isabell answers. 

won’t be in today.” 

“Ahh.” She hesitates. “You have a fully booked day, sir.” “Reschedule everything.” 

“Are you unwell?” she asks. 

I hit end call. “Mind your business,” I mutter under my breath. 

“Why did you call in?” Mark asks. “What are you doing?” 

“Taking you to Vegas for the weekend.” 

“Why?” 

“Gambling, alcohol and strippers,” I reply as I drive. 

“You think playing poker, drinking scotch, and fucking multiple high–end strippers is going 

to get me over Zoe?” 

“No.” I shrug. “But it will be fun.” I glance over at him and he smirks. 

“You owe me four hundred dollars, by the way,” I tell him. 

“For what?” 

“I’m not being your therapist for free, you know?” 

He rolls his lips to hide his smile. “What kind of therapist offers gambling, alcohol, and cheap sex as treatment?” 

“The fun kind.” 

Twelve months later. 

I follow the two girls down the pier toward my yacht as they totter along in their skin–tight dresses and sky–high stilettos, giggling and tipsy. Giovanna has long dark hair and a body to 

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die for, and Amara is her identical twin. “What happens when we get to your yacht?” Amara smiles sexily over her shoulder. 

“You both get on your knees, that’s what.” I gesture to my yacht. “Keep walking.” 

They both laugh as they continue to walk, they’re going to fucking get it. 

*We 

We are in St. Tropez in the South of France; I’ve been in Italy for a month and called in here on my way home. We arrive at the yacht, and Mark is waiting at the end of the gangplank. His eyes roam over the two gorgeous women I’m with. “Evening, sir.” 

“Good evening, Mark.” 

He unhooks the black rope to allow access and the two girls laugh and chat as they walk 

onto my yacht.