“Log into Facebook and let me see that status update from Michelle.”
Logan followed orders.
Cameron laughed.
Logan frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Dude. It says here that this Italian man is her second shooter at the wedding. Do you know what that means?”
Logan shook his head. Cameron slapped him on his shoulder before speaking. “It means that he’s her colleague, not her boyfriend. Man, you just let a good girl go over a stupid misunderstanding.”
Logan rubbed his shoulder, which still stung from Cameron’s slap. But it didn’t hurt as much as his heart. Could he be wrong about Michelle? He felt sick to his stomach. Maybe he overreacted. This was not good. He had to fix this. Now. Logan stood.
Cameron looked up. “Going somewhere?”
“Yeah, man. Going to make things right with Michelle.”
Cameron clapped. “That’s my boy. Go get your girl.”
Logan jogged to his car. Michelle sometimes worked late at her studio. Hopefully, she was still there. They needed to talk.
Chapter 18
Michelle glanced at the time on her computer screen. Eight o’clock, but she was still at work, editing the photos from the Italian wedding. What a beautiful experience filled with memorable moments and fun times sightseeing southern Italy with Nico.
By the time she was on the airplane flying home, she had made a lifetime friend in him. He understood her in ways most men did not. He truly was one-of-a-kind. He had a passionate personality and made her laugh. But as wonderful as he was, they were better off as friends. What was he up to?
Michelle hummed her favorite song from the wedding as she logged into Facebook. But the joyful tune died on her lips as she stared at a picture in her newsfeed from Logan’s page. Her heart stopped, freezing her in time.
Logan was kissing a blonde woman with a sun-kissed tan, honey-blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders to her waist, and a slender body clothed in what looked like designer apparel. But the double dagger to Michelle’s heart was that the picture showed the woman’s ring finger as she held his face. She stopped breathing when she saw the caption. All in caps, it read, “We’re getting married!”
Michelle felt sick to her stomach. She stood and rushed to the bathroom. After throwing up for what felt like an eternity, the doorbell to her studio rang. She flushed the toilet and rose from her seat on the bathroom floor. Who was trying to get into the studio at this late hour?
She grabbed a baseball bat and approached the door. She came to a dead halt when she saw who stood outside the door.
Logan.
~*~
Logan stood outside of Michelle’s studio entrance with a sheepish grin. He hoped that Michelle was happy to see him, but the smile faded when he noticed the green look on her face. “Michelle, are you okay? Let me in, please.”
She didn’t move. Her bottom lip quivered, and his heart went out to her. He placed his hands on the glass and yelled. “Open the door. I’m concerned about you.” The way she was gazing at him hurt his heart and stirred his soul. Please God, let her open the door and give me another chance.
The sound of the door unlocking motivated him. He pushed it open and entered the studio. Michelle didn’t move. She clenched the baseball bat in her hands. Her eyes were puffy. He reached out to touch her arm, but she stepped back.
“Why are you here?”
Because I love you. He treaded carefully. “I wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“Us.”
“There is no us. I think you and your fiancée know that.”
Logan frowned. What was she talking about? “I don’t have a fiancée.”
Her entire body shook. A sob broke through. Logan moved to take her into his arms and comfort her, but she pushed him away. “Don’t touch me.”
He respected her wishes and stepped back.
When Michelle’s gaze met his again, her eyes were cold. She spoke slowly and with an even tone. “You need to leave.”
“But, I…we need talk. Please.”
She raised her voice, which trembled. “I said leave!”
Her sharp tone pierced him. He gulped and turned away then glanced back as he placed his hand on the door. She glanced away. He wanted to work things out, but now was not the time. Once he stepped outside, the lock clicked behind him. He turned around, but she’d already disappeared.
Logan’s hands quivered. He retrieved his cell phone as he walked to his car. What was Michelle talking about him having a fiancée? He’d just started dating London again but had decided to break up with her. He’d called her to arrange a meeting in public where he would gently but firmly tell her it was over. However, she hadn’t answered.
He reached his car and slipped into the driver’s seat. He’d just logged into Facebook where he saw that London had tagged him in a photo with a very bold caption. “We’re getting married!” Logan’s blood boiled.
Cameron was right. London was no good. His heart twisted. This must be what Michelle saw, and it would explain why she didn’t want to talk to him.
He longed to take her in his arms and soothe her pain with the truth. He loved her not London. He wanted to be with Michelle. But now was not the time to have that conversation.
He tossed his cell phone to the empty passenger seat and shifted his car into drive. He may not be able to talk to Michelle right now, but he certainly could go to London’s hotel and end their relationship tonight.
Chapter 19
Logan knocked on the door to London’s hotel room and waited. It wasn’t that late. She should still be up. After another knock, the door opened to reveal London dressed in her bathrobe. She yawned then smiled. “Good evening, love. What brings you to my room?”
“We need to talk.”
“Sure. Come in.” She gestured for him to enter.
He stepped inside, and London shut the door. “Can I get you anything to drink? I can call room service.”
“No. This will be straight to the point.”
She folded her arms and frowned. “Okay.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Do what?”
Logan held out his phone fixed on her Facebook post with the false engagement news.
A rose hue colored London’s cheeks, and she peered at Logan through her lashes. “Well, we are headed to the altar, aren’t we?”
Logan finger-combed his hair. “No, we’re not.”
London furrowed her brow. “But I thought—”
“That’s the problem. You think too much. You thought you could waltz back into my life and pick up where we left off. You thought that just because I agreed to give you another chance, we were going to get married. You hurt someone I love. Michelle doesn’t deserve this.”
London narrowed her eyes. “Someone you love? Michelle? Who is she?”
Heat rose from Logan’s neck to his face.
“Sh-sh-she… It’s none of your business.”
“Is this about the girl from the café? The black girl sitting with her computer by the smoothie machine?”
“Why?”
“I saw the way you looked at her then rushed me out. Were you dating her?”
“Yes. We were dating.”
London harrumphed.
“What?”
“I didn’t know you were into black girls.”
Logan fumed. “I didn’t know you would ever say something like that.” London had changed beyond reconciliation. Her words reaffirmed his decision to let her go.
She unfolded her arms and stepped toward him. “Oh, honey. Why would you want her when you could have me?” She reached out to touch his face. He blocked her hand and stepped back. The glint of a diamond ring—his engagement ring—caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes and held out his hand. “Give it back.”
“Give what back?”
“The engagement ring. We’re over, for good.”
London steeled. “No. I want to fight for
us, remember? I believe we’re meant to be.”
“You’re delusional. I said we’re over. I’m done. I don’t want you in my life as my wife, or quite frankly, even as a friend.”
Hurt flashed through London’s eyes, and for a moment, Logan wondered if he went too far. But it was nowhere as far as London went. Yes, she was still beautiful, but her heart was ugly, and he was glad he realized it before it was too late.
London twisted the ring on her finger. Moments, later, she held it out to him. He took it from her grasp. Her hands trembled. She quickly folded her arms and stared at him.
“I wish you well, London. But please do not contact me anymore.” He moved toward the door but stopped when she called out.
“You’ll regret this. Letting me go is a mistake!”
~*~
Michelle rang the buzzer to Juliana’s apartment. She tapped her feet. It was almost midnight, but she needed to talk to someone in person. Now if only Juliana would answer her door. She pressed the buzzer again then wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to steady her emotions by steadying her body.
A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal Juliana, dressed in her pajamas and yawning. Juliana’s eyes widened.
Michelle’s bottom lip quivered.
Juliana stepped aside. “Come in, amiga. What’s wrong?”
Michelle sunk into the plush white leather couch in Juliana’s living room. She bent her legs beneath her and buried her head in her hands. She couldn’t stop the waterfall that now cascaded down her cheeks.
“Oh, Juliana,” Michelle cried. “How could I have been so stupid? Logan doesn’t love me. He doesn’t even like me anymore.”
Juliana held Michelle and patted her upper back like a mother soothing a baby. She spoke in a hushed tone. “It’s okay. You’re not stupid. Maybe it’s just a misunderstanding.”
“You saw the picture. He’s engaged.”
“My pastor says you’re single until you’re married.”
She pulled back and frowned. “What does that mean?”
“It means they’re not legally bound to each other yet, so you still have a chance with Logan.”
Michelle’s shoulders shook. “No, I don’t. He loves her. Not me.”
“Are you sure?”
Michelle reached for the tissue box on the end table.
“Yes.”
Juliana frowned. “How can you be so sure?”
“Lip lock and the bling of that ring don’t lie.”
“I think you and Logan need to talk.”
Michelle wiped her eyes. “Why?”
“Because this could all be a misunderstanding, starting with what I saw in Annapolis. I’ve been thinking about it, and that woman he was with could have been his colleague.”
Michelle sniffed. “They were acting too friendly to be just friends.”
“I’m not so sure. I’ve seen Logan on TV. He’s pretty friendly. He was probably just being himself but in a very platonic way.”
“You saw Logan on TV?”
Juliana’s eyebrows lifted. She opened her mouth then closed it before opening it again. “Si, amiga. He’s the new evening anchorman for WJLA. You didn’t know?”
“I haven’t watched the news in months.”
“Well that explains it.”
Juliana paused. “So, what are you going to do? Because I think you should fight for your man.”
“We never defined our relationship. He’s not my man.”
“Well then, I think you should talk first, clear up all of these misunderstandings, then make your relationship official.”
“Why?”
Juliana grasped Michelle by the hands and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Because, amiga, I’ve never seen two people who are more meant to be than you and Logan. Call it best friend intuition. I’ve never seen you as happy and carefree as you are when you’re talking about him. Well, not including tonight of course.”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Michelle’s lips. “You think so?”
Juliana leaned in. “I know so.”
Michelle let out a laugh. It was a sound that she hadn’t heard from herself in weeks. Maybe Juliana was right. The least she could do was let Logan explain himself. She would call him when she was ready.
Chapter 20
Michelle woke with a start. Loud, angry voices reached her ears. She rubbed her eyes and pulled herself off the cold, wooden floor she’d fallen on when the voices startled her from her midday nap. The voices escalated. She followed the sound to the front door. One of the voices—a strong baritone—she recognized. Marcel. Oh, no. Who was he talking to? She unlocked the door and swung it open.
Marcel stood in their parents’ front yard in a shouting match with Dave and Diane, their new neighbors. She rushed outside and placed herself in between Marcel and the Rivers. “What’s going on?”
Marcel pointed a finger at the Rivers. “They think I was trying to break into our home.”
Dave spluttered. “Your home? This is your home?”
Marcel snorted. “What? You don’t think a black family can afford to live in this upper-class neighborhood?”
“That is not what my husband meant,” Diane said.
Michelle’s stomach tightened. She prayed for clarity and skill to be a good mediator. She turned to the Rivers. “I am so sorry about this misunderstanding.”
Another snort from Marcel. “This ain’t no misunderstanding, this is racial profiling.”
Diane placed her hands on her hips. “We’re not racists. Our grandbaby is black.”
Marcel laughed. “Oh man, this is rich. You going to tell me that your best friend is black now too?”
Dave’s eyes narrowed. “Now you listen here, son.”
“Son? I am not your son.”
Michelle took a deep breath and did something she rarely did. She shouted. “Everybody be quiet and listen!”
Dave and Diane stood with their mouths wide open. Marcel, well she would wait to look at him. She focused on the Rivers. “Dave and Diane, this is my brother Marcel. He moved out years ago, but sometimes he still visits us.”
Dave folded his arms. “Really? Then tell us why he was snooping around your house.”
Marcel leaned forward. “Because I lost my spare key. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Michelle turned to her brother. “Marcel, this is Dave Rivers and his wife Diane. They moved into our neighborhood a few weeks ago.”
Marcel folded his arms. “I can’t say it’s nice to meet you.”
Dave’s face reddened. “Come on, Diane. We don’t need this bad reception.” They started to walk away.
Marcel shouted. “Yeah? The feeling is mutual!”
“Do you have to be so rude?” Michelle’s hands shook.
“Do you have to be so naive? They thought I was breaking into our parents’ house just because I’m black in a rich neighborhood. If I were white, they wouldn’t have thought anything of it.”
“Yes, Marcel. That’s a possibility, because that’s the reality of the world that we live in, but Dave and Diane haven’t seen you before. Most likely, they were concerned neighbors, that’s all.”
Marcel’s nostrils flared. “See? This is exactly why I don’t want you dating that white boy. He’s brainwashing you. Do you think you’re going to escape racism just because you’re with him now? You’re still a black woman.”
She forced herself to stand strong. “I’ll have you know that Logan and I have not talked about race. We’re not even talking right now.”
“Good. It’s in your best interest.”
“I didn’t say we’re over. We’re just not talking right now. Why do you have to be so angry? Logan’s done nothing wrong to me or you.”
“Yet. He hasn’t done anything wrong to me or you yet. They cannot be trusted. Don’t you remember the incident?”
Michelle’s eyes clouded. She did remember the incident involving cops mistreating her brother and dad while Michelle and her Mom
sat in their family BMW praying for God to intervene. The police had pulled them over. Dad was driving. They ordered Marcel and Dad out of the car and pushed them to the ground. They interrogated them, claiming they were trying to cause trouble by driving slowly through a rich neighborhood. Only it was their neighborhood because they’d just moved in and wanted to take in the beautiful scenery of their new home.
The incident had added fuel to the fire that Marcel was already facing as a black man, and he’d never forgotten it. But that was two decades ago. Michelle and their parents did their best to forgive, release the injustices to God, and move on. But it was hard to forget when situations still arose in the news showing injustice against people of color.
She took a deep breath. “I cannot deny it was a traumatic experience for all of us. But you can’t continue thinking that all white people can’t be trusted. It’s not fair.”
“Fair? And mistreatment of black people in this world is fair?”
“No, it’s not. But remember, earth is not our home. We need to keep our focus on Jesus.”
Marcel slapped his thighs. He then took a deep breath. “It’s great that you’re trying to forgive, forget, and not hate anyone. You should win the Nobel Peace Prize. But I cannot forget how our people still deal with injustice everywhere we go. It doesn’t happen every day, but the threat of being judged negatively and mistreated is always there. Just like today with your new white neighbors assuming the worst.”
Michelle bit her lip. “I know.”
For a moment, Marcel stared at her. “I’m here to pick up a box containing a surprise for Mercedes. Mom said she left it on the kitchen table.”
Marcel walked into the house. She peered over her shoulder. Dave and Diane had long been gone. She was grateful that they didn’t call the cops and shivered as she thought of what could have happened if the police had been involved.
Lord, when will all the hate in this world come to an end? There’s so much pain, and as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve seen the hate our people have to deal with. I can see why Marcel is so mad. But Lord, please touch his heart, heal his hurt, and help him give Logan and other good people like him a chance.
Love in Pictures Page 8
