Didn't Mean To Love You (Serendipitous Love Book 2)

by Christina C Jones

  When I got back to her apartment, I didn’t see her at first. The lights were off in the main area, but light spilled from her bedroom, into the hall. I locked her door behind me, then headed that way. Standing at the bedroom door, the first thing I noticed was that she still hadn’t put on any pants. Her ass was in the air, weaving back and forth as she searched for something seemingly just out of reach behind the bed.

  God help me.

  “Frenchy,” I called out, averting my gaze as she turned around, eyes wide with surprise.

  “Carter! I was starting to think you had forgotten about me.” She smiled, and then — apparently oblivious to how erotic she looked with my shirt hiked up around her waist, curls flying free from her ponytail again — resumed her quest for whatever had fallen behind the bed. A few seconds later, she popped up, triumphantly brandishing a remote. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  My gaze drifted to her bare thighs, and hers followed, her eyes going wide when she realized what I was indicating. “I’m sorry,” she said, climbing down from the bed and walking over to her dresser. “Am I making you uncomfortable? I am usually in much less when I’m home, so it didn’t even occur to me. And then with the…” she pointed to her forehead, which was still slightly swollen from her fall.

  What the fuck are you doing, dude? You want her to cover up that banging ass body, like… for real?

  I reached up, massaging the back of my neck. “I mean… I wouldn’t say you’re making me uncomfortable, more like…”

  “Carter, you do not have to explain. It was completely rude of me.” She pulled a pair of bottoms from the drawer and pulled them over her legs. A few moments later, she crawled back onto the bed, in a pair of lycra athletic shorts that were barely an inch longer than the panties she wore underneath. She repositioned herself on the bed, and flipped open the box of pizza, which I hadn’t even noticed was there. I wasn’t sure whether it made me feel better or worse to realize that she’d answered the door for the pizza guy in what she was wearing a few moments ago. I decided to just not think too hard about it.

  “We’re eating in your bed?” I asked, slipping out of my shoes before I sat down on the other side.

  “Well… yeah. It’s pizza.” She said that with narrowed eyes, shaking her head as if that statement made perfect sense, so I decided not to argue about it. We ate in relative silence, which wasn’t necessarily awkward, just… different. I was thinking about the phone call from my brother, and Viv had a gash in her forehead. So, between the two of us, I assumed that neither of us was feeling very talkative until Viv nudged me in the side after returning from a trip to the kitchen.

  “Are you going to tell me what is going on with you this time?” she asked, opening a tub of ice cream.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. You left in one mood and came back in completely different one. So... what happened?”

  I groaned, then took the final swig from the last beer I’d brought with me. “If I tell you this, you have to tell me about how you got in “trouble”. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  She extended her pinkie to me, and after a moment of hesitation, I hooked mine around it, ignoring the buzz of attraction between us when we touched.

  “Okay. So… I got a phone call from my little brother. He wants to come and stay with me.”

  Viv lifted an eyebrow, waiting on me to continue. When I didn’t, she scoffed. “Is that it?” she asked, shoving a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “There has to be more to it than that. Do you not want him around?”

  “Not exactly,” I said with a heavy sigh, taking the liberty of leaning back onto the bed, hands propped behind my head. “Rod has a tendency to get in trouble for stuff that’s just honestly… dumb as hell. At first, it wasn’t anything criminal, just worrying the shit out of our mom. Then… this mess he pulled last time, getting caught up in a drug dealing ring at his school, of all places. The other boys vouched for him when he said he wasn’t actually doing anything, so he didn’t get arrested. Just kicked out of school… I just can’t relate to him, at all.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Just… I don’t know, different mentalities, I guess. My parents divorced when I was pretty young, and when I was twelve, I had to go live with my dad. When I was thirteen… my mom had Roderick.”

  “Wow. So you’re more than a decade older than him.”

  “Yeah. And we were raised completely different. My mom and his dad were super easy on him, whereas my dad and stepmom did not play around with me. They pushed, and pushed, and pushed. I’m not complaining, I’m just saying…I never almost went to juvie. I went to a private college, graduated, got my masters, and I pay my own way in life.”

  Viv nodded, then ate another spoonful of her ice cream. “Right. You’re a successful business owner, but I do have to ask… how do your parents feel about you getting a great education, which I know is very expensive, and then… owning a barbershop?”

  I looked at her and laughed. “My parents didn’t pay for me to go to school, Viv, scholarships did. Everybody isn’t like you, Miss Ecoli Normalize Surprise.”

  “École Normale Supérieure…”

  “Right, that’s what I said, Very Bougie Academy. The point is, my parents couldn’t afford to pay for school, so I had to bust my ass to do it myself. And that’s not to imply that you didn’t, I’m just saying, I didn’t have that option. The barbershop is a family thing, passed down to me when my father died a few years ago. He left me a nice amount of money from his insurance policy, and I put half in savings, invested the other half, with good advice from my college friends. The barbershop makes enough that I can pay for my basics to live, and the interest on my investments gives me plenty of room to play. So, I can have a comfortable life, but still keep my father’s dream going.”

  “Mm. A comfortable life. Keep your father’s dream going. What about what you want to do? Because… from the way you talk about it, I get the feeling that barbering is not it. What would you be doing if the barbershop did not exist?”

  “Building programs. I worked with a tech startup before my dad asked me to take over with the shop.”

  “So why aren’t you doing that now?”

  I shrugged. “Because sometimes it’s not about what you want to do.”

  “But… perhaps it should be. I got lucky — I actually like the chocolate business. It makes me very happy. But… I think that my father would not have given me another option anyway, even if I hated it. He probably would not speak to me… but I would have to do what makes me happy.”

  “I promised though. All my life, he had me at the shop with him, teaching me the business… I couldn’t turn my back on it like that.”

  “I get it,” she said, patting my knee. “Now, back to your brother… you think he acts out just because he can?”

  I blew out a breath. “I don’t know why he does the stuff he does. His dad died when he was really young. I think Rod was maybe ten. Seems like he’s been wildin’ since then.”

  Viv positioned herself on her stomach, feet in the air as she faced me. I tried not to let my mind drift to filthy things as she licked her spoon clean, then stared at it thoughtfully before she spoke. “Perhaps… he is seeking attention then.”

  I scoffed. “My mom gives that knucklehead plenty of attention. Too much, probably.”

  Viv carefully replaced the top on her ice cream, then shook her head. “No. Male attention. Your attention.” I lifted an eyebrow as she pushed herself up on her knees, then sat back on her heels. “You said you are thirteen years older than him, right?” When I nodded, she continued. “Well, since his father passed away, he’s probably looking for the same type of attention and guidance he would have received there. He wants to come and stay with you because who better to be a mentor, and get him back on the right track than his cool older brother?”

  “Cool?”

  She sucked her teeth. “That is what you focus on?
”

  “I’m messing with you. I think you may be right, but we’ll see what he does once he gets here.”

  “Yeah. Question… that day on the roof… ?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that was Roderick related. My mom called to tell me he might get sent to juvie because he’d been fighting. But, obviously, it got worked out. She always works it out for him.”

  Viv’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline as she reached to put her ice cream jar on the counter.

  “What is that look about?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Uh-uh, come on now, say what you have to say.”

  Viv grimaced a little, then gave me a weak smile. “Have you noticed the tone you use, when you speak about your brother? It is like there is maybe… I don’t know… some resentment there?”

  “Nope. You’re not taking me there, Dr. Viv. Now… on to you. I’m ready to hear about your troublemaking.”

  “Ah,” she said, dropping onto her side, propped on her elbow. “I did make a deal, didn’t I?” From this vantage point, I could see her belly button, and the tiny silver hoop that adorned it. “Um… the summer that I turned 22 years old, I fell in love with a man that I should not have. Keep in mind, this was what… nine years ago? Social media was not what it is now. There was no Instagram where I might stumble upon pictures of him smiling with his wife and children, or fishing with his father-in-law. The internet was not yet such a place that I could easily find out that he was not the age he claimed to be, or that his job title was much different from what he said it was. The paparazzi, however, was definitely a thing. We were photographed together, leaving a private party that he did not want to attend, but I threw a fit about it and he indulged me.

  You see… usually we were never together in public places. The majority of our time was spent… um… in the bedroom. When the pictures came out, there was a big scandal — surrounding him, not me. My face was mostly hidden behind the horribly huge sunglasses I wore, and I had the good sense to cover what was not hidden, but he… he is a very distinctive man, so there was no hiding for him.”

  “How did you not know he was a celebrity?” I asked, resting my chin on my hand.

  She held up a finger. “Ah, he was not a celebrity. He is what would be known here as an investment banker, very well known in the business finance world, which I was not a part of. He told me he was someone’s assistant, always had to be available at the boss’s beck and call. So he was not around often enough for me to grow suspicious… just enough to fall in love. Then, there was a big scandal. The night we were at the party, was the night that law enforcement raided his office. They leaked it to the news organizations, who obviously tracked him down, but I was virtually a nobody.”

  “But… your parents recognized you.”

  She smiled. “Of course. And they went… berserk. When I told them that the affair had been going on for two years, I honestly thought my mother would pass out. She screamed at me until she was hoarse. My father… would not even speak to me. And then they packed me up and shipped me off.”

  “Wow.”

  “Wow is right. I had no idea that he was much, much older than me, or that he had a family. But, now that I am older, you want to know what part really gets me?”

  “What’s that?”

  Viv pushed her tongue out to wet her lips, but remained silent for several long moments. I could sense her mood shifting right before me. Her suddenly wet eyes were a dead giveaway. She blinked several times, then swiped away a few stray tears before she finally spoke. “I thought… I…” she stopped, gave a dry laugh, then cleared her throat before she continued. “I really thought that he loved me like I loved him. Before I left France, I contacted him. Begged him to see me just one more time, because he was not arrested. I just wanted him to tell me… I guess I wanted to hear that at the very least, he loved me. But… that wasn’t the case.”

  “Why do you think that?” I asked, reaching forward to wipe a fresh round of tears from her face.

  She laughed, but there was no mirth in her eyes. “He said so. Told me I was too young to know anything about love… implied that I was simply a plaything for him. Very similar to Darren, only luckily, Instagram does now exist. So, at least I was not yet in love, right?” She chuckled at her own joke, and then shook her head. “So… after being mislead twice, in pretty much the same way, I find it very hard to believe when you are kind enough to try to convince me that I am not a fool. You see… I know better.” Vivienne nodded to emphasize her point, then averted her gaze as she tried in vain to stem the flow of tears.

  Our eyes met, and the sadness I saw there made me realize that the woman in front of me was not the woman I’d assumed Viv to be, based on appearance alone. She wasn’t the giver of broken hearts, she was the recipient. And… that shit made my chest hurt.

  “Hey,” I said handing her a handful of the napkins she’d brought into the room for our dinner. “I’m sorry for making you talk about this. I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you had done some crazy shit like streaking at a tennis match or something.”

  She laughed at that, a real laugh, then looked up at me with a smile. “It’s okay. You showed me yours, it was only fair that I show you mine,” she joked. “But… I think it’s about time that I go to sleep.”

  “Is that your way of kicking me out?”

  “Yes. It is. And please take the rest of this pizza with you,” she said, pushing the box at me as we stood and headed back to the front of her apartment. “I don’t want it to be available when I get up at 2am to eat my feelings.”

  When we reached the door, she turned to me, her expression serious. “Thank you, for coming to check on me. And for hanging my pictures, and having dinner with me.”

  “Any time, neighbor,” I replied, pulling her into a half-hug as I bent to place a kiss against her forehead. I was surprised when she wrapped her arms around my waist and pushed herself closer with a soft sigh against my chest.

  Minutes passed before she finally stepped away, her eyes still somber. “Good night,” she whispered, in the same sexy half-raspy voice she’d used to say my name before, but now, it held a note of wistfulness that made me want to drop the pizza box, pull her back into my arms, and kiss away the tears that were forming in her eyes again as we stood there in her doorway.

  I’d halfway made up my mind to do it, when somewhere in her apartment, her cell phone went off, buzzing loudly against whatever surface it was on, and simultaneously blasting a song by 2 Chainz, declaring that all he wanted for his birthday was a “big booty hoe”.

  I lifted an eyebrow at Viv and she laughed, shaking her head as she glanced behind her. “That would be Eddie calling. He picked that song.”

  “Sounds about right,” I chuckled. “Good night, Frenchy.”

  She nodded, then closed the door behind me with a resounding click as she went to answer her phone.

  I was jamming.

  Alone in Guilty Pleasures’ commercial grade kitchen with Beyonce blasting through my earbuds and the smell of freshly-cooked caramel in the air, I was in my zone, dancing and singing along as I rolled tray after tray of truffles. It was late, well past the time I would usually still be at the shop, but Simone had called with a frantic bride on the other line, desperate for assistance with the last-minute addition of a gourmet sweets table at her reception.

  I had no complaints about it. I was happy to help, thrilled to receive advance payment on the hefty invoice, and glad for the word-of-mouth recommendations my shop would undoubtedly receive. Not to mention, at nearly two months post-breakup, Darren barely crossed my mind anymore. My mood was way up, somewhere in the clouds, and lifted even higher when Blow started playing in my ears. For those few minutes, I completely abandoned my work, singing the lyrics into my mixing spoon. I was asking some imaginary man to “gimme that daddy long stroke”, whipping my hair net covered ponytail and winding my hips in a circle when I turned around to see Carter standing
in the doorway to my kitchen, a grin plastered on his face.

  “How long have you been standing there?” I asked, still holding the spoon up to my mouth like a microphone.

  “Since somewhere around the point that you didn’t want anybody seeing “Vivi” on her knees,” he said, chuckling.

  “So, a while then,” I said, blushing as I deposited the spoon in the stainless steel sink.

  Carter nodded, looking around as he stepped into the kitchen. “Yeah… did you know your front door wasn’t locked?”

  “No, actually. I’m so used to just locking it when I leave for the day that it slipped my mind.”

  “You should be careful… I could have been anybody walking in here, and you wouldn’t have even known.”

  I lifted an eyebrow, then feigned a scowl as he approached, standing right in front of me. “Okay, daddy,” I said, intending it as jab, but by the way his eyebrow lifted, and the wicked little smirk that spread across his face, Carter thought I was flirting with him.

  He took a step forward, and I took one back, trapped by the cold, curved metal edge of the counter. “Say that again.”

  “Say what?” I asked, hoping that I was the only one who could hear the loud staccato beat of my heart.

  Carter chuckled, tugging at the decorative ties of my chef’s coat. “You know what.”

  I brought my hands up to press into his chest, but made no effort to push him away. It was a long-standing fantasy of mine, me and Carter in this kitchen, and to be perfectly honest, he would get no resistance from me about making it come true. I let my fingers drift over his chest, up to his neck, and into his locs. The beginning of his arousal was pressing into my stomach when he abruptly pulled away, swiping a hand over his face before he turned around, pretending to admire the carefully prepared rows of white chocolate truffles I’d rolled in white sugar, then drizzled with caramel.

  Taking a deep breath, I took a moment to calm myself before I approached him, confused about what had just happened. I didn’t say anything, just stood there beside him staring at the sweets, wondering what he saw there that was so interesting.