by Xyla Turner
Portia deserves someone like that too. I think every woman should, at least once in life, have a man that will move heaven and earth to make you happy. I sense you are that guy for her, and though she may not think that I do, I want that for her. Edward loved his daughter beyond the stars, and I know he would definitely approve of you taking her hand in marriage. This letter is such an old-fashioned way to communicate, but that’s how Edward was. Ice Cream Fridays, walks on the beach, and dates included looking at the stars and making wild wishes. I did that for him, and he always gave me what I wished.
Congratulations and if she says no, because that is a real possibility, just wear her down. She chose you for a reason, so I think you will have success.
By the way, the next time you want to communicate, you can just email me at [email protected].
My best,
Michelle Vivian Lane
First, it was one tear, then five, and they kept coming from my eyes as the page grew blurry.
“Portia,” Duncan’s voice rang out with alarm as he took the paper from me and pulled me into his arms with a viper grip. “Do not cry. I did not mean to upset you.”
My heart was beating ninety miles per hour, and I could not seem to catch my breath. My body continued to jerk, and tears continued to flow involuntarily. I began to hyperventilate. Duncan quickly picked me up, holding me close to him, and took me to the bedroom. He sat down, held me tight and rocked me.
“I’m here,” he kept repeating. “I’m here.”
Then he began to recite the constitution, and I nearly burst from crying into laughter at his sweet gesture. I’d forgotten about ice-cream Friday’s and those walks on the beach. My father doted not only on my mother, but on me too. He would have mother tucked close by one side and me in the other during those beach walks. He was, indeed, old fashioned, but so great at the same time. Edward Lane was the best, and he was no longer here. I stopped thinking about what I was going to do without him and tried to focus on my job and living life, but there was, no doubt, a major void. For the first time, I realized it wasn’t just for me, but my mother too.
Once I calmed down enough to speak, Duncan loosened his grip after I muttered that I couldn’t breathe.
Then he said, “I was not aware that you had meltdowns too.”
At that juncture, I burst out laughing and began to cry again. Not because of the immense sadness that I had previously felt about my father and mother, but with happiness, because Duncan might have been one of a kind, but he was my kind, and I loved his complicated ass, dry humor, and the other idiosyncrasies about him.
“I’ll marry you, Duncan.” I told him.
His response.
“I know.”
Great. I guess it was already a done thing.
Instead of arguing with the man, I kissed him on the lips, and like he always did, he bit my bottom lip; and forty-five minutes later, we found ourselves re-heating our breakfast.
Chapter Nineteen
Duncan
For the first time in a long time, I was awake, and Portia was sleep. We were watching, like we always did, a show on television before going to bed, and with ten minutes left of the show, I heard light snoring coming from my shoulder. Her head still lay there, where she had passed out from her meltdown earlier in the day.
I knew, all too well, that a meltdown could drain me for the rest of the day, or even a few. But that had not happened in a while, since I learned to manage them better, and Portia had been extremely helpful. In her bag, she had a pamphlet about supporting loved ones on the spectrum. Last month, I saw her reading an eBook about a similar topic. She had not shared any of these things with me, but I knew she was steadily acquiring how to support me best.
This reinforced why I felt the grip of my chest when I first saw her. I knew she was special, and in my own way, I knew she was for me. She was walking around talking to Richardson’s son as if he were an adult. A two-year-old boy was having a semi-intelligible conversation with this pretty woman. He grabbed her earring, and she spoke to him as if he would understand her threat. She did not treat him like a child or different, not in any baby voices or in a slow, measured pace. Not my Portia; no, she treated him like she does everyone.
Like a human.
It is going to take six months, five days, three hours and twenty-three minutes before Portia Lane will officially be mine.
Chapter Twenty
Portia
Duncan mapped out his scheduled visits to Rhode Island, along with his stay in the district. Since my job was in the DMV, that is where we began to look for homes to purchase. According to him, this was a must, because he needed to have a home with his wife.
The wedding was all on me because Duncan did not want anything to do with the planning and preparations for the event, which I vowed would be small. That was before his parents got involved because it would now happen in Rhode Island, with their whole community. When I shared this with Bernie, she was cracking up laughing and thought it was all fun and games until her water broke. I had tried to prepare Duncan as much as possible with the change in schedule that this would cause, but oddly enough, it was Trent who looked ready to have a meltdown.
Apparently, Bernie had complications and Trent was in there barking at the staff. I mean, losing his shit. All I could hear him saying was, “My wife better be alright.” This had me on edge too, as I was pacing and trying to calm him down. Duncan, on the other hand, was holding the sleeping Junior as all the commotion was happening, and just like my man’s normal reaction, he was unbothered.
Trent finally calmed down when he realized he was causing Bernie to stress. She was able to convince him that he didn’t want to cause the doctors and nurses to panic. When that finally registered, he was able to be productive and help his wife deliver their baby girl, Bonnie April Richardson.
Trent insisted that their daughter is named after Bernie. The middle name was the same as his mother’s, who had passed away two years ago but was instrumental in Trent and his family coming to some reconciliation. This was a great idea to have her legacy live on through her granddaughter.
Bonnie was seven pounds and one ounce. She had all ten toes and fingers, and the little girl looked like Trent, but with a nice little tan. We thought she was absolutely beautiful, as we looked at the picture Trent texted to our phones. Shortly after, the new father emerged with a huge smile on his face. Junior’s nanny also showed up to take him back home, since he wouldn’t be seeing his new sister.
Duncan, reluctantly gave him to her, which had me cracking a smile. Trent too. He showed us the video and pictures of the baby and then sent us on our way. The next day, Duncan stayed home in the morning because his routine was completely off, and he needed to reset. Sex always worked and we both enjoyed it. This was an added bonus.
Charles served as Duncan’s best man and Trent was his groomsman. Bernie was my Matron of Honor and oddly enough, Sophia was a bridesmaid. She proved to be a great ally, once her crush of Duncan passed.
The wedding was not small. Actually, it was the grandest event that the entire state of Rhode of Island had ever seen. Thankfully, by the time Sandra Morgan finished with everything, all I had to do was show up and fit into my dress. That woman was a high-society mogul, if I had ever seen one and the wedding was flawless because I think even the flowers knew not to get in that woman’s way.
Duncan had shared with me after we were married, that he had a long conversation with his mother. There were some things that he was able to process and there were others, that he did not understand. What the man did gather from the conversation, was that she didn’t throw his father away because of Duncan. She loved him, though she did not always express it in the right way, his mother loved him.
My mother in her own way loved me, but it was different, and I had to terms with that. It might not have been the happy ending that I expected when I drove down to Virginia that day, but it was still an ending of sorts. What that event did d
o, was solidify Duncan in my heart.
That was the day, I fell in love with that man. He was different, sure.
But a different kind of perfect.
And just for me.
The End.
Don’t close the book yet.
First, thank you for reading Duncan. I hope you fell in love with him, as I did. He was different than my normal Hero, but oh, so perfect. I want to hear from you! Okay! Talk to me about him, because I really want to know how he resonated with you. See below to find out how.
WAIT…I have a lot of BONUS things that you MUST SEE.
First, do you want to know Trent and Bernie’s story? Click here!
Second, do you want to see Duncan’s survey that he gave to Portia? I dare you to give it to a potential/or significant other and see how they respond?
I have Across the Aisle Swag that you can buy: BlackHairMatters shirts, mugs, pillows, bags, etc.
Here are a list of questions from the book that would be perfect to answer in a review or book club meeting?
Get a sneak peek of Senator James…maybe you can find out what woman he was in the garden entertaining! KEEP SCROLLING!
If you want to chat about Trent & Duncan, click here.
Also, do you want to find out more about Lisa and Rich? Perfect, Across the Tracks is available here.
Do you want to know where Steel, the club that Bernadette was a member? Click Here for Warren (Short Erotica)
Duncan’s Survey
Needs Assessment: Portia Lane
Estimated Minutes to Complete the Survey: 11 minutes and 32 seconds
Download Survey: Click Here
What type of detergent do you use? (Please list the brand)
What kind of deodorant do you use? (Please list the brand)
What kind of body wash do you use? (Please list the brand)
What kind of shampoo and conditioner do you use? (Please list the brand)
What do you prefer, relaxed clothes or work clothes?
What electronics do you need for your personal grooming and the brand?
Do you wear perfume and what kind?
Do you sleep with the covers on or off?
Do you need a hairnet when you cook?
Do you wear a shower cap?
Do you fear your hair getting wet?
What kind of hair care product do you use? (Please list the brand)
Do you wear skirts and dresses most of the time?
Do you wear pants most of the time?
What season of the year do you like best?
What was your favorite memory from childhood?
What motivates you to work harder?
Do you know how to ride a bike?
Do you like extreme sports?
If you had to go back to school, what major would you study?
What is your favorite drink?
What are your favorite televisions shows?
What are your favorite books?
Do you like paperback or eBooks?
What is your favorite animal?
What do people know you for?
If you had a brand, what would it be?
If you could do anything, what would that include?
How do you relax after a hard day of work?
Do you like to fly?
What your favorite mode of travel?
Do you like kids?
Would you adopt?
Are you okay with not having children?
What is your favorite food?
What is your favorite restaurant?
Name the foods that you do not like?
List activities that you would like to do, but haven’t done yet?
Who is your favorite artist?
What person or group would you like to see in concert?
Do you enjoy Broadway shows?
What does your nightly routine include?
What does your morning routine include?
Do you have a specific toothpaste that you like?
Do you use an electric toothbrush or manual?
Are you a coffee or tea drinker?
What snacks do you enjoy?
What is your favorite dessert?
Do you prefer to drive or be driven?
Do you like urban or rural living?
What is your favorite movie?
Who is your icon?
Are you a dreamer or a realist?
Do you have sides that you sleep on a bed?
Do you bring your own bags to the grocery store?
Do you manually wash dishes or use a dishwasher?
Do you use paper or plastic straws?
What does your ideal date look like?
Where do you want to retire?
Would you ever open your own business?
Do you know anyone with special needs?
Would you move to Rhode Island?
What are your views on owning versus renting?
Do you need glasses?
What are your favorite seasonings for food?
What is your favorite color?
Who is your favorite superhero/heroine?
What does a man have to do for you to marry them?
Book Questions
Please post your answers in a review (preferably), on my Facebook page, in an email, or join the Across the Aisle Discussion Group (You get the first look on everything, Trent, Duncan, James & Lucas)
Do you know anyone in your life that is like Duncan?
What are the things you love about this person?
Do you think Portia was judging him harshly at the beginning of the book?
What are your thoughts about Portia’s style of management?
What are your thoughts about Duncan’s way of expressing himself?
What did you think of Duncan’s mother? Any transformation?
What did you think of Portia’s mother? Do you know anyone like that?
Why do you think the author left the relationship the way it was?
Have you had a mother-in-law completely take over your wedding?
How do you think Trent will be with a daughter?
(Keep reading for this answer) What do you think is going to happen with Mr. James Klinger and Trish?
SWAG: Across the Aisle
Trent started something with the Black Hair Matter’s Campaign. Now that Duncan is a full supporter, you can be too. Get your #BlackHairMatters Swag now on the Xyla Turner website:
Here are examples of what is available.
Coming soon! Shower Caps
James: Chapter 1
(Subject to Change)
Trish
It was too hot to catch the train in the middle of July in Washington, damn, D.C. sweat was profusely pouring down my back, my thighs were running together creating heated friction that had nothing to do with mating. My underarms grew sticky and since I just shaved, it was also itchy. Apparently, I put too much Vaseline on my feet because they began to slide towards the front of my sandals.
The block of ice in my water bottle had long gone and the damn delay that just flashed in orange digital letters went from twenty minutes to forty minutes.
The orange line was always backed up and I was at Landover for goodness sakes. It was near the beginning of the line, which allowed me to have a good seat, relax before the long day of work and have some peace and quiet before everyone crowded the small space we used for transport. I sent another email to my supervisor, with a picture of the delay, so she knew it was not a joke as I was never late for work. This was not a habit that I entertained nor one that I had a lot of tolerance for.
Lateness.
The crowd on the platform had grown larger and at the moment, people were positioning themselves closer to the edge, so they could get a seat when the train finally came in thirty more minutes.
“Excuse me, Miss.” An unfamiliar male voice called from behind me. “Do you live around here?”
With one eyebrow raised, I slowly looked over my shoulder to see who was talking an
d if they were addressing me.
“Yes, you.” I heard, which had my body turning all the way around to face the person who dared speak to me in such a manner. Asking someone if they lived around here was personal. Again, this was Landover, Maryland. A fifteen-minute ride into North East D.C. and ten more minutes before you hit South East.
“Me?” I asked with a dare in my voice. “You’re talking to me.”
Before me, stood a handsome man, with tanned shading, a deep set of grey eyes, chiseled chin and cheekbones that rivaled a professional model, his features were sharp, but not the Wall Street type. His hair was short, combed back but in an urban, white Mohawk upper style.
A smirk morphed on his face, as he looked me dead on the eye, “Talking to you, sweetheart.”
My head started to shake in annoyance automatically.
“Can’t be talking to me. I don’t answer to sweetheart.” I replied and turned to continue to stare at the open space across from the tracks.
That was one thing about Maryland, there were lots of open land with wild weeds, grass and I’m sure many critters in all varieties. The Landover Station was no different. It wasn’t a pretty scene, but it was another thing that I wanted the city council to do something about.
A small chuckle could be heard but I continued to ignore the man.
“Ma’am, my apologies. I meant no disrespect. Do you live in the neighborhood?” He seemed to be back to his original question.
I didn’t reply, but I could see him in my peripheral vision. I kept facing forward and mentally wishing a train would arrive and pull me from this misery.
My vision was blurred suddenly and that was when the waft of cologne assaulted my nostrils. Another man joined him, well, he squeezed by the crowd to stand next to intrusive one. This one had a clipboard in his hand had several pens placed flat under the silver slip at the top. He was shorter, had a little more of a belly to him than the other physically fit one that was dressed in a dark suit on one of the hottest days on the East Coast. This guy was black and looked as if he was D.C. born and bred. Neat locs were pulled in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck, his light blue shirt was tucked into his khaki shorts, black socks that stopped at his mid-calf and black tennis shoes.
