Falling Again (A BWWM Interracial Novel)

by Tina Martin

  “I, ah...I want to apologize to both of you for last night,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I was upset and, well, I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted, Wyatt,” Stacey says. “It’s water under the bridge.”

  I turn off the range and take some plates from the cabinet, preparing plates for the three of us.

  I walk over to the island, carrying two plates and set them on the countertop in front of them.

  “And what about you, Geneva. You accept my apology?” he asks, staring at me with longing eyes.

  “Sure,” I say, because, even though I’m in a good mood this morning, I’m not necessarily in a conversational mood. I just want a minute to zone out, sip on coffee in silence and figure some things out. So instead of sitting at the island with them, I opt for the dinette. While I’m eating, I see Wyatt get up from the stool with his plate and heads in my direction. He’s wearing a long-sleeved, blue and black plaid, flannel shirt and jeans with a pair of black Chuck Taylors. Pulling out a chair, he sits directly across from me now.

  I glance up at him, then stir eggs around in my plate.

  “Geneva,” he says.

  I love the way my name rolls off of his tongue. I’ve always liked his accent. I look up at him, my brown eyes connecting with his blue ones – the color of rich ocean water. I suddenly find myself being swept off into sea.

  “Geneva,” he says again.

  I clear my throat, snap out of a trance then really look at him this time without zoning out. “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you come sit over there with us?” he asks, his voice low as if he doesn’t want Stacey to hear our conversation.

  So I keep my voice low when I respond, “I just preferred the table.”

  “That, or you’re still upset with me.”

  I withhold a smile. “I’m not mad at you, Wyatt.”

  “Prove it,” he tells me.

  I watch his lips curve to a smile. I smile too, trying to figure out what he’s up to. “Prove it, how?”

  He reaches across the table with his right hand, palm up.

  “You want me to hold your hand?” I ask. For some reason, I’m so tickled, I can’t stop myself from laughing.

  “Yes. I want you to hold my hand.”

  I decide to meet him halfway and reach out to connect my left hand with his right, and when I do, he holds my hand tightly in his grasp. I can feel waves of energy flowing through us just by this simple connection and I recall his lips against my lips, two weeks ago, where I felt the same current of power.

  Wyatt then stands, kisses the backside of my hand like a Frenchman and then sits down again, freeing my hand after christening it with his lips.

  He begins eating now, glancing up at me every now and again, studying me. “This is good, Geneva.”

  “Glad you like it.”

  He goes to the refrigerator, takes out a carton of orange juice, grabs a glass, then comes back to the table. After pouring a glass and taking a sip, he says, “I know Stacey is here and all, but I want to steal you for a lil’ while this morning.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can hang out and talk,” he says. “Hey, Stacey, do you mind if I take Geneva away for a couple of hours this morning do you?”

  “Not at all,” Stacey says then she looks at me and winks.

  “So we’re good?” he asks, looking at me again.

  “Yes, Wyatt. We’re good.”

  * * *

  After breakfast, I find out that it’s his plan to go down memory lane with me again. But honestly, I guess that’s all we have are memories from years ago. As I’m walking next to him, outside near the stables, I feel like I know him pretty well, even though we were apart for ten years.

  “Why are we here, Wyatt?” I ask as we come to a stop in front of the ladder-like stairs that goes up to the loft – the place that used to be my little hideout whenever my father would drink himself into a rage. For a long time, I felt like it was my own little apartment. It was pretty cozy up there. And Wyatt would be with me most of the time, especially if I had to be up there at night.

  “We’re here because I think it’ll do you some good.”

  “Really, Wyatt?”

  “Yes. Really.” He gestures towards the ladder with an opened hand and says, “Ladies first.”

  I smile, shake my head and begin to make the climb that I’ve made so many times as a teenager. In a way, I can still see my younger self, climbing up here, settling into my hideaway.

  “You better not try anything either,” I say while climbing.

  He grins. “Try something like what?”

  “Like trying to touch my butt.”

  “I won’t,” he says. “Can’t say I wasn’t tempted though.”

  “Wyatt...”

  “What? It is tempting. Round and plump—”

  “Wyatt…” I say, then laugh.

  “Just being observant,” he responds in a cloud of laughter.

  When we make it to the top, I look around. I still see some of my things here – books, pens, an old radio, and a few other things scattered about, covered in dust. “Wow. This is crazy.”

  “What is?”

  “Being back up here after all these years.”

  “Let’s sit down,” Wyatt says, clearing a spot for us by kicking away hay and dirt with his shoe, then we sit together. “Part of the reason why I wanted you to come here is because I do have some concerns about you...”

  “Wyatt, I told you before and I’m telling you again. It is not your responsibility to worry about me.”

  “I know it’s not, but...I care about you. Even after everything.”

  “No...you’re angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry.”

  “You are—”

  “Listen...I didn’t want us to come up here to argue. I just want to talk...to see how you’re feeling after your father’s death. So tell me.”

  I sigh, deeply. It’s so deep, I feel like I pulled the breath from my toes. “Um, I have mixed feelings about it.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, he was my father, my flesh and blood. In that respect, I feel sorrow. But dealing with years of abuse has left me with resentment towards him...even at his death. And you know what’s really sad?”

  “What’s that?”

  “He was such a good man before my mom died. If she were alive today he probably would still be alive, too. When she died, it destroyed him. That’s baffling to me.”

  “Why is it baffling? You don’t think that a man could love a woman so much that he’d lose his mind if anything ever happened to her?”

  I shrug. I know the answer. I just don’t want to accept it.

  “Well, I think it’s possible,” Wyatt says. “As a matter of fact, I know it is. Most times, when people are in love and have been together for a long time, then one of them dies, studies have shown that the surviving spouse dies soon after.”

  “Of a broken heart?”

  “Yes...a broken heart.”

  “Last night, you said I broke your heart,” I say, looking into his eyes.

  He grimaces. “You did.”

  “I never meant…” I say, feeling tightness in my throat…feeling waves of emotions rush to my brain. “I never meant to break your heart, Wyatt. Do you believe that?”

  He turns away from me, briefly, and I watch a small disturbance form in his forehead. “This is not about me, Geneva. This is about you. Look around...do you remember all the nights you spent in this place?

  “Gosh. How can I forget?”

  He interlocks his fingers and takes a deep breath. “People say that life, the good and bad times, teaches us. Mold us. Do you think you learned anything from your father’s situation? From having to sleep up here?”

  “I guess it taught me independence...to try and make it on my own, but with that being said, I don’t know how I would’ve made it without you.”

  He smirks.

  “I mean that, Wyatt,
” I say, fiddling with my locket, thinking about the ring he proposed to me with, ten years ago, that is still safely tucked away inside of it.

  “I know you do. I can always tell when you’re serious about something. You get this look of determination in your eyes. And your face is straight.”

  “Sound familiar? You have the same straight face when you’re serious about something, too.”

  He smiles.

  “You remember when you were supposed to be crowned king at our prom?”

  “And I wanted you to be my queen instead of what’s her face…”

  “Darby Allen.”

  “Yeah, that girl,” he says then laughs.

  I laugh too.

  “But I wasn’t popular or pretty enough but still, you wanted me to be your queen? And when they called your name, you turned down your crown.”

  He grins. “I denounced my throne for you,” he says jokingly.

  “You did. And you did it with your straight, serious face, too.”

  He smiles again.

  “Why’d you do that, anyway?” I ask. “You didn’t have to.”

  “I know I didn’t have to.”

  “So why did you?”

  “Because there’s no other woman I can think of to be my queen. Even now.”

  I look at him and feel shortness of breath, willing myself to breathe as I watch him inch closer to my face.

  “Wyatt,” I say, short of breath.

  “What’s wrong?” he replies. “You don’t want me to touch you because—”

  “I just thought I heard Stacey calling me,” I say, panting.

  Then we both hear Stacey say, “Geneva? Wyatt?”

  “Be right down, Stacey,” I say, loud enough for her to hear me.

  Wyatt stands up and reaches down to me with both hands.

  I grasp them and he pulls me up where I stand in front of him. We look at each other for a moment, then he picks straw out of my hair.

  “Um…I’m going to see what she wants,” I say, looking up into his eyes.

  “Okay,” he says, staring at my lips again. He leans forward, presses his lips against mine once more. “You could just tell her that we’re busy.”

  I smile. “As tempting as that sounds, I have to go see what she wants.”

  Releasing a frustrated sigh, he says, “Okay,” then leaves a kiss at my temple.

  I brush off my clothes and began my descent down the stairs.

  CHAPTER 21

  “And what were y’all doing up there?” she asks, fixing my hair and picking out some straw that Wyatt had apparently missed.

  “Nothing. What’s up?” I ask, hoping I don’t look too flustered.

  “I have to leave early.”

  “How early?”

  “Like right now, early.”

  “Why?”

  “The husband has to go out of town for a week and I want to go with him, so we’re leaving as soon as I get home.”

  “Aw, Stacey. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “I know, I know, but looks like you got your hands full anyway,” she says then looks over at Wyatt walking away from the stable.

  I turn around to look at him, too, watching him head towards the house.

  “I’m so glad you interrupted us,” I tell her.

  “Why?”

  “Because I think that some things need to be left in the past.”

  “Some things, but not everything.”

  I sigh. “Let me help you get your bags.” I begin walking towards the house.

  “Oh, you can’t get rid of me fast enough, huh?” she chuckles.

  “No. I just want to help.”

  “Well, I already packed and put my things in the car while you and Wyatt were in the barn rolling around in hay and whatnot.” She laughs.

  “You’re silly,” I say, heading for the front yard where she’s parked.

  “Silly, but you ain’t denying anything.”

  “Okay, well it’s like this. Wyatt and I had a past, but I moved on. I began a new life.”

  “If you began a new life, then why are you leading him on, Geneva? He deserves happiness just like you deserve happiness, don’t you think?”

  A wave of guilt consumes me in that moment. I realize that what I’m doing is as wrong as it is reckless. I’m torn, twisting and pulling my heart into two directions. On one hand, I want to be with Wyatt. I want to explore him. Re-learn him. I want us to talk about the old times and reflect on our past.

  However, I’m engaged to Darnell. And sure, Darnell may not be as nurturing and loving as I know Wyatt is, but he’s still my fiancé, the man who got down on his knees and asked me to be his wife.

  Then again, Wyatt had done the very same thing, but ten years ago...

  I pinch my eyes to keep from crying. Then I slide my hands in my pockets and say, “You’re right. You’re one-hundred percent right, Stacey. I have to get my head on straight. Wyatt and I had a past, but that’s over. Now, I have to focus on my future.”

  Stacey shakes her head like she’s dissatisfied with my statement. “Well, look...if you need me, I’ll only be a phone call away.” She throws her arms around me and when she releases me, she opens her car door. “Tell Wyatt I said bye.”

  “Okay,” I’ll tell him. “Drive safe.”

  I stand outside until she’s down the road and when I turn to head inside the house, Wyatt his standing on the steps with his arms crossed.

  “She’s gone?” he asks as I’m walking towards the steps.

  “Yes. She told me to tell you goodbye,” I say and proceed to walk pass him and on into the house. I head straight for my bedroom, fully absorbing Stacey’s advice. I can’t keep leading Wyatt on, making him think that there’s a chance for us. It had to stop, and I had to be the one to stop it.

  CHAPTER 22

  Besides taking trips to the bathroom, I really didn’t have a need to come out of my bedroom. I’d been basically hiding in here since Stacey left earlier today, just sitting on the bed watching TV. I even called Darnell. I had a sudden urge to discuss a wedding date with him, but as usual, he didn’t answer his phone.

  Now, I’m looking through my old nightstand drawer again. I find a picture of me and Wyatt at homecoming. I don’t even remember who took this picture or why they took it. All I know is, Wyatt is looking at me with heat and desire in his eyes. And I believe what he said at dinner yesterday – that he wanted to spend his life with me, but outside influences, also known as his mother, kept us apart.

  I pick up my diary next. I reread the entry that Stacey read aloud to me yesterday, then I flip to the last entry I wrote. It was the morning after prom:

  I’m floating on cloud nine. I can’t believe Wyatt asked me to marry him. I feel like it’s a dream. Going to prom with him, feeling his arms around me, then he asked me to marry him. I’m so excited to become Mrs. Geneva McDowell because he makes me happy and I love him so much that I can’t find the words to describe the way I feel. I wish mom could see how happy I am. How much I’ve grown up. Even though she’s not here, I know she’ll be proud of me.

  _____

  I sigh heavily, drop the book in the drawer and rub my eyes. Then I hold out my left hand to look at the ring on my finger – the ring Darnell gave me. I know I need to be loyal to him, even though that means shutting Wyatt out. Again.

  I get up from the bed to walk to the kitchen for a bottle of water and...speaking of Wyatt...he’s standing in front of the island, leaning up against it, like he was expecting me.

  “Did you eat?” he asks me.

  “Not hungry,” I say. I don’t mean to be rude or short with him, but I know that’s how it comes across. It’s my way of distancing myself from him. I have to be responsible and accountable for my actions. After all, I hurt him once. Broke his heart, he said. I don’t want to do it all over again. Once a ceramic vase shatters, you can try to glue it back together, but it would never be the same. And if the repaired vase ever falls and breaks again, there is no
more fixing to it. It’s done. I don’t want to break his heart again. I don’t want him to be done with love. There’s someone for everyone and his somebody is out there. Somewhere. Maybe his mother can find a nice, bleach blonde Barbie-doll-looking pin-up broad that he can love and have some adorable, blue-eyed babies with.

  “Why did Stacey leave?” he asks. His eyes follow my every move.

  I take a bottle of water from the refrigerator and say, “Her husband has to go out of town tonight and she’s going with him, so...she had to go.”

  I quickly walk away, trying not to look at him. I see him but I’m not looking at him. I’m focusing on getting back to my room, locking the door behind me and forgetting that we made out in the loft this morning.

  Before I can get out of the kitchen, though, he says, “So are we back to pretending?”

  I stop in my tracks and look at him. “No. We’re not.”

  “Then why the cold shoulder all of a sudden, Geneva?”

  “Because I have a fiancé who’s counting on me.”

  Frustrated, he throws hands behind his head and says, “Really, because last I checked, you have a husband, too.”

  “Only because we’re not divorced yet. That’s a paperwork issue. It’s been ten years Wyatt. Ten years we’ve spent apart, living our own, individual lives. You’re fooling yourself if you think that after an entire freakin’ decade, every feeling, every emotion, anything you’ve ever felt for me is still very much alive in your heart. You’re fooling yourself.”

  “No!” he snaps. “You’re fooling yourself if you think there is a man on this planet that can love you more than I do! But I get it...our little paperwork issue is preventing you from marrying Darnell, because God knows you just have to marry Darnell since he’s so awesome and all.”

  “You don’t know him.”

  “I know enough about him to know that he’s not good enough for you. That he doesn’t deserve you.”