Be My Forever: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 2)

by Nia Arthurs

  Claiming every muscle, every vein, every cell.

  I hold him tighter. Press my thighs to lock him in place.

  He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.

  And more.

  So much more.

  The kiss slows.

  So does his pace.

  It’s like music.

  Sweet and low and sensual.

  Something only lovers can hear.

  My heart is so full it’s ramming against my chest.

  Moving in tandem with his strokes.

  Troy. Troy. Troy.

  A rhythmic chant.

  A heavenly refrain.

  And that hazy territory—the place where I thought a woman like me could never enter, that place where love and obsession get blurry and forever feels like it’s not long enough to love someone—I’m there.

  I’m bursting with it.

  I never want to leave.

  Twenty-Nine

  Venus

  Morning comes.

  We check out of the hotel, but we’re still basking in that glow. Touching. Making eye contact. Smiling.

  A caress there. A hand on the thigh there. Like lovers on their honeymoon.

  “Need me to drive?” I ask Troy, sticking my hand out of the convertible and lifting my face to the breeze.

  He glances at me. “I’m good.”

  “You barely got any sleep last night.”

  “Who’s fault was that?” he teases.

  “I’d say we’re equally responsible.” I peer through my small circle sunshades at the blue sky. Today, I played it safe and braided my hair in one thick plait. There will be no crazy, windblown curls today. “Did you tell Evan about the trip?”

  “I had to get his permission.”

  I snort. “You didn’t. That’s so archaic.” I fold my arms over my chest. “And if he’d said no, would you have listened?”

  “Of course not. It was more of an honor thing. To get his blessing.”

  “You should have been more worried about getting mine.”

  “Oh, I knew I had yours. Subtlety isn’t your thing.”

  I smack him.

  But his shoulders feel so good and broad, so I end up caressing him instead.

  Besides, he’s not wrong.

  When it comes to Troy, I go a little crazy.

  “He’s still getting used to us.” Troy drives with one hand on the wheel and tugs my arm so he can merge our fingers together. “And he’s cautious.”

  “Why? We’ve both dated people before.”

  “But not each other. If something goes wrong and he has to choose between his best friend and his sister…”

  “He’ll choose his sister.”

  “Probably.” Troy’s voice is gruff.

  Losing me and my family would crush him.

  It can’t happen.

  If there’s even a slight possibility…

  I sigh. “You think we’re doing the right thing?”

  “At this point, it doesn’t matter. I can’t stop.” He glances over. “Can you?”

  “No.”

  He brings my knuckles up to his lips for a kiss.

  I turn our hands over and kiss his hand too, making sure to give him more than he’s given me.

  Troy is the man I want.

  And he’s never going to lose my family.

  Because I’m never going to leave his side.

  Thirty

  Venus

  Family dinner at Mom’s feels quiet and awkward. No one knows what to say, how much to share. We’ve been dealing with a whirlwind of craziness, and Mom’s been only a couple blocks away, completely oblivious.

  Forks scrape against plates.

  Chewing.

  Quiet grunts of appreciation.

  The food is amazing as always, but I’m not hungry.

  The deadline ends today.

  A pedophile gets out of prison tomorrow.

  I still have no clue where Ina is.

  And I still don’t know exactly how Gloria Bateman plans to get me back for my ‘big mistake’.

  Somehow, I have to find a way to ask my mom if she knows anything about that daycare tragedy.

  And I’m not looking forward to it.

  Mom tosses her fork down. “Why is everyone so silent today?” She presses her lips together. Gives Evan the eye. “Evander?”

  “Mom?” My brother jumps.

  “What’s going on?”

  Evan’s eyes flit to me. “N-nothing.”

  “Troy.”

  “Mrs. G,” Troy shovels more rice and beans into his mouth, “this stewed chicken is amazing.”

  “I don’t want to hear ‘bout no chicken,” Mom snaps. She goes into full Creole.

  We all cringe.

  When Mom’s Belizean accent gets harder, somebody’s getting whupped.

  The fact that we’re all adults means absolutely nothing to her.

  Mom’s Jamaican slipper and leather belt don’t give a damn.

  “And that!” She points to his neck. “I’ve been trying to be polite and not stare, but what is that on your neck, young man?”

  Troy’s fingers jump to his throat.

  I glance up and cringe.

  There’s a small, quarter-sized bruise on his neck, just above his collar.

  For some reason, I didn’t notice that before.

  Evan catches my eyes over the table, a deep frown on his face. A hickey? Really?

  I cringe.

  “You’re not in high school anymore, Troy. There’s no reason a grown man should be walking around with a bruise on his neck letting the whole world know he’s been with a woman.”

  Troy ducks his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And who’s the hussy that sucked so hard she left a mark? I thought you broke up with that Brook woman?”

  Evan chuckles.

  I kick him under the table. “Mom, you can’t call people ‘hussy’ anymore.”

  “Would you prefer the term ‘tart’?”

  Troy barks out a laugh and then covers it with a cough.

  I glare at him. “Slut-shaming, really?”

  “A duck is a duck is a duck.”

  “Ma, whoever she is, she’s someone’s daughter.”

  “She clearly grew up with no home training if she’s going around like that. Sucking on…” Mom lets out an astonished laugh. “If I ever heard you did something so trashy—”

  I take a sip of Kool-Aid. “It was me.”

  Mom freezes.

  Evan stiffens.

  Troy goes pale. He nudges me. “Venus…”

  “I’m the one who gave Troy a hickey.” I turn to him. Gently caress the bruise. Smile softly. “I don’t know. I kind of like leaving my mark on him.”

  Mom’s expression turns thunderous. “Venus Olivia Miller!”

  “I’m gonna,” a chair scrapes and Evan—the coward—slinks away from the table, “uh…” He holds his stomach, “I need to use the bathroom.”

  Troy scrambles to do damage control. “Mrs. G…“ Her narrowed eyes flit to him, full of flames and wrath. He visibly caves in but pushes on bravely. “The thing is, Venus and I have feelings for each other and we—”

  “You.” Mom pokes a finger in my face. “How could you be so disgusting?”

  “Me?”

  “Troy is like a son to me—”

  “And I’m your daughter.” I tap my chest. “Your biological daughter.” I flop back in my chair and scoff. “Although sometimes, I have my doubts about that.”

  Mom scrambles up. Throws herself over the table. Raises her hand to slap me.

  Troy grabs her wrist first. “Mrs. G, please hear us out.”

  “Let me go!”

  “I want you to know that I care about Venus. We both have liked each other for a long time—”

  Mom wrenches her hand free and shakes her head. “Every time I think you couldn’t possibly disappoint me more, you find a way.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” I smile coolly, despite how much her w
ords hurt.

  It’s not that I’m immune to it, but there are callouses on my heart from the words she’s hurled before. Now I can brush them off without breaking down.

  Troy, as the golden boy of the family, isn’t used to it. His face crumbles with horror. “Mrs. G, please.”

  “Now,” I fold my hands on top of the table and cut off his desperate plea, “since I was honest with you, it’s your turn to be honest with me.”

  Her chest heaves.

  I stare her down. “What happened when I was three? Why did we run from Belize?”

  Her expression tightens. She says nothing, but there’s a shift in her eyes. Fear. Guilt.

  “I know about Fred Bateman. I know what he did.” I swallow because, all of a sudden, the stress of the past few days is slamming into me and I can’t act as unaffected as I’d like. “I know those dreams I told you about when I was younger… happened.”

  “No.” She shakes her head desperately.

  “I know I was there, in the nursery, when he came in.”

  “Stop!” Mom shrieks. “It didn’t happen. He never touched you.”

  I jump to my feet. “Is that what I told you, Mom? Or is it just what you wanted to believe?”

  “He didn’t!” She screams, her eyes wild, darting back and forth.

  “How do you know?”

  She plants both hands on the table. Her mouth trembles. Her arms bend like they can’t support her weight. “You were my baby. My little girl. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

  “You weren’t there.” It’s not an accusation.

  But she winces as if I slapped her. “I had to work. I couldn’t… I had to do everything I could to keep a roof over your head and food on the table. No one was helping me. I did it all on my own. How could I have known…?”

  “Mom.” I swallow. Push the words out. “What… did… I tell you?”

  “You-you said…” She shudders.

  “Mom!”

  Troy puts a hand on mine.

  I glance at him.

  His brown eyes hold my gaze. Patience.

  I suck in a deep breath. Nod.

  “You said Uncle Fred—that’s what he wanted you kids to call him…”

  Nausea stirs my gut.

  How disgusting.

  Despite my roiling stomach, I nod. “Go on.”

  “You said he would come into the room during second nap time.”

  Troy frowns. “Second nap time?”

  “Usually, around four or five, when the other kids had been picked up, they’d put you down to sleep again. I never questioned it. I…” She rubs her forehead. “I was just grateful they’d keep you so late. Sometimes I had to work long hours. It was convenient. I never thought—Lord, it never entered my mind that anyone would…” She bowls over.

  “It’s okay, Mrs. G,” Troy whispers.

  Mom dabs at her eyes. “He would come into the room, you said. And he would pick Ina up. Lead her out to somewhere else. She would cry. She didn’t want to go. And when she came back, her clothes would be on funny and she’d be crying harder.” Mom sucks in a deep breath.

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “Did he ever…take me?”

  “No.” She croaks out. “I went to the station the night he was arrested. He said… it was only that other girl.”

  “And you believed him.”

  “I asked you too.” A fat tear drips down her cheek. “You said no. I asked you a million times when we found out. If he touched you, if he… you always said no. You were just scared.”

  “So why don’t I remember?”

  “The police came. They kept asking you all these questions. You were so traumatized. You said you didn’t know. After a while, you said you didn’t remember. I wanted you to believe that. To forget about all of it.”

  Relief courses through my veins.

  All the speculation.

  All the back-and-forth.

  The monster in my dreams didn’t touch me.

  “Then why did we leave?”

  “Because I wanted to be as far away as possible. People kept talking about it and dragging your name into it. You and Ina were always the last two at the day care together. Everyone thought you’d been hurt too. I didn’t want you to grow up with your story already written. I wanted you to have a new start.”

  It’s overwhelming.

  So many pieces are falling together.

  My dreams were always hazy because it never happened to me, but I was there. I was a witness.

  “It didn’t happen. But it…” Mom cries. “It could have. And I didn’t know how to deal with that. How to deal with you.”

  I brush a tear that falls down my own cheek. No wonder Mom and I always clash. Her words were harsh, but it wasn’t out of hatred… it was out of guilt.

  It all makes sense now.

  But Ina…

  Poor Ina.

  “I need some air.” I push out of my chair. Plod to the door.

  Troy starts to come after me. “Venus!”

  Mom shrieks and clutches her head.

  Her entire body folds in half.

  Troy’s attention diverts to her. “Mrs. G!”

  I escape through the front door. Jog down the steps. Head… I don’t know where. Just out. Away from it all.

  My feet pound the sidewalk.

  I’m happy he didn’t touch me, but I feel guilty at the same time. My head’s full of dark thoughts. As dark as the night that’s pressing around me.

  I cross the street.

  Mid-way, something roars.

  Then there’s light.

  Two pairs.

  Like wolf eyes creeping through a fog.

  A car comes barreling at me.

  The driver slams his foot on the gas.

  It’s not stopping.

  It won’t stop.

  There’s no time to run.

  No time to scream.

  I close my eyes and brace myself for impact.

  Thirty-One

  Troy

  The screen door slams shut.

  Venus is gone.

  I hesitate, my arm around Mrs. G and my eyes on the door.

  Evan’s footsteps pound an urgent rhythm.

  He emerges from the hallway. When he sees Mrs. G, his eyes go wide. “Mom!”

  “Go! Take her to the living room. She needs to lie down.”

  Mrs. G groans pathetically. Tears are drying on her cheeks.

  It was a hard conversation. For her.

  But especially for Venus.

  My head whips toward the door again.

  “Evan…” I urge Mrs. G forward.

  “Yeah, sure.” Evan reaches out. I stop just short of shoving my stand-in mother at her son.

  As soon as she’s in Evan’s grip, I bolt for the door. “Venus!”

  Five steps.

  Down three stairs.

  The lawn is empty.

  Dusk is settling. Pink skies. Puffy clouds.

  My sneakers crunch grass.

  It’ll be dark soon.

  Damn it. Where is she?

  The road is clear.

  No one in sight.

  Silence.

  Not even a dog bark.

  How the hell did she disappear so quickly?

  I pull out my phone to dial her up when I see an incoming call from Teale.

  Part of me wants to ignore it.

  I hesitate. Pick up. Keep walking. “Teale, now’s not the best—”

  “Fred Bateman is dead.”

  I skid to a stop. Hold the phone tight. “How?”

  Teale sighs. “Heart failure.”

  “Heart—“

  “The day before his parole. Can you believe that?”

  “It’s…” I want to say ‘great’, but I have a feeling I shouldn’t break out the champagne yet. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “You’d think his concerned wife would buy a plane ticket back to Belize almost immediately, right?”

  “Right.” />
  “Wrong. Gloria Bateman is still here. She’s got her cell phone off so I can’t track her, but…”

  I curse.

  He catches on quick. “Where’s Venus?”

  “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

  I cut the phone.

  Start running.

  “This doesn’t feel right,” I mumble, glancing both ways before going with my gut and heading toward my place.

  I turn the bend.

  There’s Venus.

  She’s crossing the road. Heading for the park up ahead.

  I breathe out in relief.

  Open my mouth to call her name.

  The sound is drowned by a vehicle tearing around a corner and speeding toward her.

  For a moment, I freeze.

  Watch as if it’s some cruel movie playing in front of me.

  Venus in the middle of the road.

  A car gunning straight for her.

  The engine roars.

  Tires scream against tarmac.

  The driver saw her, right?

  There’s no freaking way…

  It takes me two seconds to realize that lunatic has no intentions of stopping.

  I scream her name. Pump my hands at my sides. Sprint toward her.

  Even before I take my first step, I know it’s a lost cause. I’m too far away. The car’s speed will beat my desperate strides in a heartbeat. But there’s a delusional part of me that won’t stop. Can’t stop.

  I lean forward.

  Pray like crazy.

  And just before the inevitable collision, there’s a blur.

  Someone catapults forward. Knocks into Venus. And the two go rolling into the bush.

  Thirty-Two

  Venus

  Someone flings me aside with a grunt. I land painfully on my back. Grass pokes through my shirt and itches my skin. I blink up at the sky—now more dark blue than orange.

  Another groan sounds.

  I glance to my side and spot a large figure in a black hoodie, sweatpants and motorcycle gloves.

  My rescuer.

  For a second, I assume it’s just a random guy playing hero, but when she turns, I see her face.

  It’s a girl.

  Not just any girl.

  Ina.

  I scramble up, my body still trembling with shock and adrenaline. “Are you okay? Here.” I stretch out. “Take my hand.”