Broken

by Tia Sirrah

  I cleared my throat and continued, meeting his arctic stare. "You said, ‘I love to fuck, but I also fuck to forget.’ What is it that you want to forget?"

  He stilled for a moment before backing up from me. Our bodies were still close, but all physical contact was gone. "Yeah… I’m not doing this right now."

  His blunt response crushed me, but I refused to cower. I usually bowed out of conversations like this. Conner was strong-willed and dominating. Vulnerability was something that he struggled with. But I was determined to chip away at his armor. We had our unborn child to think about. I loved Conner fiercely, and although I didn’t have experience with addiction, I wasn’t going to avoid the red flags any longer. Conner did an excellent job shielding who he was from the outside world. But I knew he was hurting. I saw the sadness and emptiness in his eyes from the very start. And deep in the pit of my gut, I knew that our pasts were more similar than he would probably admit. And I cried a little for him inside.

  Conner backed up completely away from me, almost to the opposite wall of the foyer. "Why the fuck can’t you just leave it alone?"

  "Because I love you." I was met with silence. He wasn’t ready, and I knew, at that moment, that I couldn’t force him to be ready. This was his journey, not mine. But how could I sit back and watch him drown in his pain?

  I leisurely rubbed the small bump shrouded by my t-shirt. "You’re not going to seek professional help, and you won’t talk to me." It was a statement, not a question. I had to verbalize it, to come to terms with it.

  "I don’t need a fucking shrink." Massaging his temples again, he commenced, in a more gentle but exasperated tone, "I know you’re only trying to help. But I told you before. I don’t talk about this shit with anyone."

  "You’re hungover right now. I can smell the bourbon on you. It’s nine o’clock in the morning. Did you drive here?" I asked, suddenly concerned about him and others on the road.

  "Of course not. Colin is out front." He leaned against the wall. "I had a few drinks this morning, but I thought I lost you," he implored.

  "You haven’t lost me, Conner. But I’m afraid that you will if you don’t curb your drinking and get some help. I need you to step up and be a good dad. A sober one."

  "Jesus Christ. I’m not an alcoholic. I just like to drink sometimes. What the fuck, Novalee?" he raised his voice. He was defensive, his anger palpable. "I don’t need fucking therapy. All I need is you!"

  "And what happens when I’m not enough to fill this void, this sadness in you? Are you going to drink yourself to death? Are you going to turn to sex with someone else to numb this pain that’s inside of you?" The next words that were on the tip of my tongue caused tiny shivers of anxiety to course through me. "You have to deal with that pain that’s inside of you. If you don’t, baby I don’t think we’ll make it." I could literally feel Conner slipping away from me. In desperation, I rushed to him in a few swift steps. I pressed my body up against his and wrapped my arms around his waist. He didn’t embrace me in return. Only looked down at his feet.

  "You’re it for me," I said. "You have my heart. No one else ever will. But don’t push me away. Because if I have to, I’ll choose what’s best for this baby over you." I palmed the sides of his face, turning his head up to look at me. "Talk to someone about what’s going on. Do this for you. For our baby." For us.

  He gave a curt nod. I was unclear on what our relationship would be like without sex. I hoped that through this physical separation, we would focus on building trust and repairing what was broken within ourselves and within our relationship. My heart still ached over the revelation that he and Amy essentially lied to me about their past sexual relationship. I had yet to deal with her, which I knew would cause more wounds.

  I silently prayed that Conner wouldn’t spiral back into destructive patterns of excessive boozing and sexing, once our relationship slowed down and he was forced to focus and deal with his issues. It would shatter my heart beyond repair, to see him so lost, using the pleasures of temporary thrills to numb the torment that was raging inside of him.

  Conner planted a kiss to my forehead, and then to my parted lips, which I readily received. He ran his hand over my stomach, resting it on my bump. "Don’t give up on me, angel."

  "Never," I said, my throat thick with emotion. He kissed me once again before heading to the door. He didn’t look back, and I couldn’t look away. Once I heard the door close behind him, I slumped down onto the floor and brought my knees up to my chest. I slowly drew in breaths and released them, practicing my breathing exercises.

  I heard the front door open, and Fatima’s voice followed, calling my name. I looked up at her from where I sat. "Oh, cousin." She rushed over and sat down beside me. I lay my head against her chest and cried for what felt like the hundredth time in a matter of days. She didn’t say anything. Just held me until my tears dried up, and my voice was gone.

  Chapter 17

  I PARKED NEAR HARRIS County Courthouse and walked to a popular downtown eatery. As soon as I stepped inside of the air-conditioned restaurant, I felt immediate relief as the cool air swathed my sweat-dampened skin. Houston and all surrounding areas had been hit with a heatwave this summer that had many seeking relief in the comfort of air-conditioned establishments, rather than enjoying the outdoor settings that many usually tended to gravitate to. The waiting area was full and so were most of the tables, due to the lunch crowd starting to pour in. Dressed in a pair of cut off denim shorts and a wife-beater tank top, I stood out amongst the crowd of suits. The tight tank stretched across my small baby bump, which had seemed to grow almost overnight. I pulled my sunglasses up, resting them on top of my curly mop of hair and sent a text message to Conner while waiting to be seated.

  Novalee, 12:15pm

  No need to pick me up at home.

  I’m downtown right now. Had a craving for some cactus casserole.

  I’ll meet you at the doctor’s office.

  Conner, 12:17pm

  Cactus huh? Lol.

  Sounds good. I’m in the middle of a meeting anyway.

  See you soon. Love you.

  Novalee, 12:17pm

  Don’t judge a preggos woman. Lol. Love you too.

  "Novalee." I turned towards the bar at the sound of my name. A smile spread across my face. "Hey," I called out.

  He held up a bottle of organic sparkling water toward me in a salute. "Come join me," he offered, his smile inviting and endearing, his hazel eyes warm.

  I started towards him. He sat alone at a pub table near the bar. A thick file was scattered about him, and a cup of coffee was pushed off to the side. He stood as I approached his table, all 6’6 of him, and greeted me with a hug.

  "Quentin, how are you?" I asked as my neck strained to look up at him. He really was swoon-worthy, and I couldn’t blame the few women around us who boldly checked him out. He was dressed for court today, sporting a stark white shirt, red tie, and an Ermenegildo Zegna navy-blue suit vest and slacks. His suit jacket was draped across one of the four chairs at his table.

  "Never better. And you?" he asked as he pushed my bar stool in after I sat. I was grateful since my feet dangled from the stool and were far from reaching the floor.

  "Great," I lied, and he studied my face like the lawyer he was. I fidgeted under his gaze, clearing my throat and picking at invisible lint from my tank.

  Quentin smiled politely at my response before signaling for a waiter with a slight wave of his hand. A willowy blond scurried over immediately, grinning and blushing.

  The waiter, who introduced herself to me as Mia, reluctantly dragged her eyes off him and took my order. Quentin gathered his papers into a neat pile and proceeded to give me his undivided attention. "It’s been a long time. Allow me to extend my congrats on your upcoming bundle of joy."

  "Thank you." I took a sip of the ice-cold water that Mia brought me. "Were you in court today?" I asked.

  "I was, but the case was dismissed."

  "Is that a good
thing?" I asked, genuinely interested. Quentin’s reputation as a stellar lawyer proceeded him. He was one of the top defense attorneys in the state.

  "That’s a very good thing," he said, gracing me with his winning and trusting smile, that made people love him. A dimple pierced his cheek as he did so. I couldn’t even imagine all the shenanigans that he and Conner were probably involved in during their high school and college days before adulting took over. Where Conner was brooding and mysterious, Quentin was pleasant and trusting. It was easy to see why America was so devastated when Quentin decided not to run for a seat as a house representative. All the news outlets were going full steam ahead in predicting a long and prosperous career in politics for Quentin. It took everyone by surprise when he abruptly dropped out of the race, especially when he appeared to be a shoo-in.

  People let their guard down when with Quentin. He listened intently as I told him about my plans to return to school come fall. He asked me questions about my upcoming classes and about my job. He shared humorous stories from law school and a few details about a few salacious trials that had been in the news, some that he’d tried and won. Quentin was a charmer, through and through. I found my mood lifting, so caught up in our conversation.

  The lingering questions remained, however. Did he know about Amy and Conner? Did he know about what had recently transpired between the three of us?

  Mia brought out our meals and leaned over exaggeratedly as she filled Quentin’s coffee cup. He smiled graciously at her, his eyes briefly skimming her ample cleavage before focusing back on our conversation. As we chatted and enjoyed our meals, a few people stopped by our table to greet Quentin. Plans were made for golfing and other various activities outside of work.

  My phone vibrated in my purse as he confirmed plans with a guy for a poker game that was going to take place at Conner’s house later in the week.

  I retrieved my phone and checked the caller ID display. Amy. I hit the ignore button. It immediately put a damper on my mood and brought back all the feelings that I had been trying to keep at bay, all week.

  "Everything okay?" he asked, once we were alone again.

  I smiled faintly. "Amy."

  He slowly nodded. "How are you holding up?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I heard about what happened last week." He gingerly sliced into his chicken breast, seemingly unaffected by the whole ordeal.

  "You knew?" My brows furrowed.

  "I did. I’ve known since high school."

  I knew that his and Amy’s marriage was a sham, but I was still puzzled by Quentin’s unbothered demeanor.

  Mia eagerly sashayed back over to our table. "Is there anything else that I can get you, Mr. James? Or for your date, perhaps?" I stifled a chuckle and tried hard not to roll my eyes at her forwardness. I was used to this type of behavior, especially when dating a man like Conner.

  "No, thank you, Mia." For the most part, he seemed to be unaffected by her flirtation. After she left our table, we resumed our conversation. "I’m sure that it’s no secret to you that Amy despises me. Trust me, the feeling is mutual," he said with a chuckle. "Our marriage was a sham. One that we both regret. We should have never married. We were both in love with other people."

  I had so many questions, but I knew it wasn’t my place to ask them all. So, I settled for, "You knew Amy was in love with Conner?"

  "It was quite obvious," he casually said. "I don’t think Conner knew. He’s always been too caught up in his own shit to notice." I nodded forlornly. "You talk to Amy yet?"

  I shook my head. "I’ve been ignoring her calls. I know I have to face her, but I’m not ready. I guess I’m not ready to face the end of our friendship."

  "I understand. I’m sure you want to avoid as many stressful situations as possible," he said, alluding to my pregnancy. "I never thought I’d see the day. You’re good for Conner. He loves you very much."

  "Thank you, Quentin." I ran my fingertip along the rim of my glass. "And I love him very much."

  "That’s good to hear." He leisurely sat back in his chair. "How’s Fatima doing these days?"

  I pursed my lips and studied him quizzically. "She’s good."

  He ran his fingers through his dirty-blond hair, the thick locks effortlessly falling back into place. "That’s good to hear. I ran into her a while back," he explained, as he observed my suspicious look. He rubbed his smooth, chiseled jaw. "She, uh, seeing anyone special?"

  I sat back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. My lips twitched from a small smile. "Fatima’s pretty private when it comes to her love life."

  He slowly nodded. He sat upright and straightened his perfectly tied tie. "I see."

  Mia appeared at our table with the bill. "Whenever you’re ready," she said. I retrieved my wallet from my purse, but not before Quentin handed Mia his credit card.

  Winking at Quentin, she took his card before scurrying away. "Oh, my goodness, Quentin. Put that poor woman out of her misery already," I teased, as I watched Mia sashay away, her blond bob swaying with each step.

  He casually looked over at Mia’s retreating back, before turning his attention back to me. "Not my type." Mia favored Amy, from her straight blond hair, blue eyes, high cheekbones, and pouty mouth.

  "Hmmm," was all I said. "What’s your type?" The words came out of my mouth, and I immediately regretted it.

  A slow smile curved his lips, his eyes like burning cinders. "Fatima. Fatima’s my type."

  ∞∞∞

  DR. SHAVER’S OFFICE WAS in a refurbished colonial home, which had been transformed into a state-of-the-art medical office. After checking in at the front desk, I took a seat across from a few other patients who were in various stages of their pregnancies.

  "Hey," a deep voice said to me, causing me to look up from my phone.

  "Hey," I said on a breath, looking up into Conner’s piercing eyes. We hadn’t seen each other since he showed up at my parents’ house. Since then, we had only communicated via text a handful of times.

  Conner sat down beside me, and a few women who sat nearby lifted their heads from their phones or magazines to subtly checked him out. He was dressed in a pair of gray Tom Ford pants and a light blue dress shirt. He was tie-less, with the top button of his shirt unfastened, and his sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms. His eyes adoringly traveled from my face to the small baby bump that had expanded since we last saw each other, just over a week ago. "You look beautiful." He planted a gentle kiss to my forehead. I closed my eyes momentarily, savoring the feel of his lips on my skin.

  "Thank you. How are you?" I studied his face. Since our talk at my parents’ house, I sensed a disconnect. He seemed withdrawn and despondent. Things had been off kilter between us. With our sexual connection being nonexistent, our emotional connection struggled.

  Conner scrubbed his hand along his jaw. "Long week."

  A petite Hispanic woman holding a clipboard appeared from a side door, which led to the examination rooms. She called my name, and Conner and I both stood and followed her down the hall. She checked my vitals, collected a urine sample, and checked my weight. After handing me an examination gown to change into, she left us alone in the room.

  "I’ve missed you," I said, searching Conner’s face for any semblance of a mutual feeling. My insecurities were running rampant, and I hated myself for it. It was something that I was working on with the help of my therapist, who I had recently begun seeing again.

  "I’ve missed you, too. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much lately. Work has been pretty hectic."

  Never stopped you before. I nodded slowly, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from saying something completely needy. I waited up for him every night over the past week, as I’d grown used to us spending our evenings together after work. He never came.

  I undressed and slipped my arms into the disposable examination gown. It gave me something to do, rather than to stand there and acknowledge the awkwardness between us.

 
; "I’m just sorting through my shit," he explained, after a moment. He approached me as I sat on the examination table. I looked up at him, my emotions giving nothing away. I’d learned from the best. He grazed his knuckles along my jaw, before leaning down to brush his lips against mine. He was met with my cheek as I turned away from his kiss. The faint smell of bourbon masked by breath mints shattered something inside of me. He quizzically searched my face and was about to say something.

  "Not now," I whispered, cutting him off.

  There was a knock on the door, then Dr. Shavers entered. "Hello, you two." She smiled brightly. I greeted her with an equally flashing smile. It took Conner a few seconds to come around. His eyes bore into me before he followed suit and exchanged pleasantries with Dr. Shavers.

  Dr. Shavers was a stunning woman, with skin the color of Godiva chocolate. Her makeup was immaculate and composed of natural hues, which only enhanced her beauty. She had platinum blond twists that were pulled up in a tight chignon.

  She sat down before us with my chart in her hand. We went over my blood test results from the last week, as well as outlining the plan for the next few months. Questions were asked and answered by all three of us before I laid down in position for the transvaginal ultrasound. Since my periods were irregular, Dr. Shavers wanted to measure the size of the fetus and uterus to determine how far along I was. After being prepped for the ultrasound and the wand made contact, we heard a loud whooshing noise. Conner took my hand, and I eagerly squeezed his as we both stared excitedly at the screen. The sound of our baby’s heartbeat released some of the tension between us.

  "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Dr. Shavers asked as the image on the monitor came into focus. Conner and I looked at the image, which was now clearer, then looked back at each other. Our eyes meet in shock, before turning to a beaming Dr. Shavers. "Congratulations, you two! You’re having twins!"

  We were both speechless. There were outlines of two fetuses in their own sacs. Their bodies were developed enough for us to see their silhouettes. Conner’s grip tightened on my hand to the point of pain, causing me to wince, which resulted in him quickly loosening his grip. An overwhelming sense of love, joy, awe, and fear crept over me as I stared at my babies. "Look at them," I finally said. "Look at our babies."