Once it was time for AJ to go to bed, she wanted to be the one to pray with him and tuck him in. Surprisingly, AJ let her. Normally, he would let only Jamie tuck him in most nights. He would let me do it too, but only Jamie could wrap his covers around him the way he wanted. My mother stayed upstairs with AJ for a while. Jamie and I started to clean the kitchen.
“Your mother is a very sweet woman, Chyanne. Very nice,” he said to me as I handed him a plate to place in the dishwasher.
“Thank you. Lots of people say we look alike.”
“You do. Just like her. She’s just a little smaller, with bigger hair that’s a different color. Diana Ross has nothing on your mother’s hair, and it’s all hers,” he said.
I laughed lightly because it was true. “I got everything from her.”
“I guess the thing I want to know is why you never opened up to me about her, not even after I told you about my mom and what had happened to me.”
I looked over at him just as I stopped rinsing a plate. The red Georgia Bulldogs sweater he had on was covered with food stains from when he’d allowed AJ to paint his face with leftover food. That was their thing. After most of the food was eaten, Jamie would allow AJ to use what was left over to paint his face.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to open those old wounds I had. Not to mention, then I would have had to reveal why I hadn’t gone to see her and hadn’t responded to any of her old letters.”
“So you didn’t want a guilty conscience?”
“I guess.” I shrugged again, then turned back around to finish rinsing the plate. “But my conscience is still eating away at me, anyway. So . . .”
“Did you tell her about the baby?” he asked me after we’d stood silent for a moment.
“No. You and I haven’t even talked about the baby yet,” I said, handing him the last dish to put in the dishwater.
“Just so you know,” he said as he closed the contraption, “I never said I didn’t want the baby.”
“Yeah, but you never gave any indication otherwise, either. The look on your face when I told you about me being pregnant, Jamie . . . That really hurt me,” I told him.
“I know it did, Chyanne, and I’m sorry. But have you once stopped to think about how I’m feeling about having another child come into this world given what happened to me?”
I looked at him and saw the seriousness and even the fear behind his words, but he could have said those things to me from day one. Why did he have to make me feel like the news was unwanted? The baby was unwanted?
“Why didn’t you say this when I first told you?” I asked.
“Because I needed a moment to get my head together, Chyanne. I need a moment to go somewhere and formulate the right words so I wouldn’t hurt your feelings even more. You think I like seeing you hurt?”
I watched the way he moved his hands, the way his head moved when he spoke, and the way his locks swung around like wind chimes. The frustration in the air was palpable, but at least we were talking.
“No, Jamie, I don’t.” I sighed and took a seat on the stool at the island. I felt aggravated, and my hand rubbed across my forehead. “So now that I’ve gone to the doctor and it’s been confirmed, what do you want to do?” I asked him.
He was standing directly in front of me, looking down at me. “We take it one day at a time. We need to talk about some things that may occur with our child because of my family’s history with mental illness.”
“Family history?”
“Yes, Chyanne, mental illness runs in my family. A few years ago I signed Ashton up to start seeing a child therapist because he’d started acting out in school. So I’m saying, just in case our child starts to exhibit—”
“My God, Jamie. This is a lot,” I said, interrupting him.
“It’s a lot, but it’s a discussion that needs to be had.”
My eyes darted to the stairs when I heard my mother moving around upstairs. I heard when she pulled AJ’s door closed and started descending the stairs.
“We need to talk about this, Chyanne,” Jamie said to me, bringing my attention back to him.
I looked up at him when he took both my hands in his. “I know, and we will.”
I’d answered him by rote, not really sure what else to say. I had too much going on in my mind at one time. Jamie and I were fighting. My mom had just reappeared in my life, having been locked away for almost ten years. And on top of all that, I couldn’t help but think of Gabe from time to time. Not even the risk of Aric hurting both of us could enable me to keep my mind off Gabe. I needed some kind of balance.
“I’m ready when you are,” my mom said, causing both Jamie and I to look over at her.
She’d come down the stairs with her purse on her shoulder, already looking for her cancerous vice.
“Okay, let me just grab my coat and purse from upstairs,” I said to her.
She only nodded then headed outside to smoke.
“Chyanne, if you want, I can take her home,” Jamie volunteered.
I stood and shook my head. “No, I got it. I want to . . . see where she’s staying and talk a little more.”
He kissed my lips before pulling me into a tight embrace. I melted into the hug just like always, because it was comforting and familiar.
“Okay. We can talk more when you get back. Be safe, Chyanne. I love you,” he said with his lips pressed against my ear.
I remembered a time when that would have gotten me more wet and aroused than anything. Our intimacy outside of sex had always been a lethal aphrodisiac for me.
“I love you too, Jamie.”
Once I’d gone upstairs and got my purse, coat, and car keys, my mom and I left. I’d asked Jamie for some cash to give to my mother after I’d remembered her saying she didn’t have any on her. He’d given me a thousand dollars to pay for her room. Then he’d told me to give what was left to her. I actually thought my mother and I would talk more on the way to her hotel, but she was silent, said she just had some things on her mind. I tried several times, unsuccessfully, to get her to talk to me. It wasn’t how I’d pictured our first reunion, but I guessed the fact that I hadn’t mentioned her to Jamie or AJ had really gotten to her.
I drove down Tara Boulevard, then made a right onto a side street that ran between a CVS pharmacy and a gas station, as she’d instructed. Right behind the gas station sat a pink motel with aqua-blue doors. It was two stories and looked seedy, like hooker transactions went on there, along with bad drug deals. The sign read SCOTTISH INNS JONESBORO.
“Mom, this is where you’ve been staying?” I asked, looking at the red OPEN sign that glowed in the arch-shaped window of what I assumed was the office.
I was sure I was frowning, but only because I couldn’t believe my mother would lay her head in such a place. I pulled alongside an old, dingy white van that had cardboard for windows. Some guests were still up, because I could see lights on and shadows moving around in the rooms. A Papa John’s delivery car was pulling in behind me when I turned to look around again.
She unbuckled her seat belt noisily, then looked over at me. “Yes, this is where I’ve been staying. It’s all a felon could afford.” The sarcastic words and tone of voice were still there.
“Mom, that’s not what I meant. You can come back home with me. You don’t have to live . . . stay in this place.”
She pulled a cigarette from her purse, then pushed her car door open. She had one foot out before she turned back around to look at me. “I’m sure that would mess up the image of the life you’ve created for yourself, since I’m sure no one in your inner circle even knows who I am . . . not even my grandson,” she said before getting out of the car and closing the door.
I quickly unbuckled my seat belt, grabbed my purse and car keys, then jumped out of the car. She was walking up the long black stairs.
“Mom, wait. I’m sorry, okay?” I almost yelled, pulling my coat tighter around me, trying to shield myself from the wind. “I’m
sorry. I had to deal with a lot when you and Daddy left me.”
She turned around, the smoke billowing around her face when she blew it out. “And I didn’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I just had to sit in prison for the last nine years and wonder why my only child couldn’t understand that I did what I had to do, or her father would have surely beaten me to death.”
I couldn’t really tell if she was crying or not, but I knew I was on the verge of tears. “Look, Mom, we can talk about this back at the house. Just come back home with me—”
“No thank you,” she said. “I’ll be okay here. We can talk tomorrow. I’ll come back to your place then. Right now I want to go upstairs, have a drink, and go to sleep.”
“Well, at least let me give you some money.”
“I don’t want your money, Chyanne,” she said.
I stood on the sixth step and watched her unlock her room door.
“Mom—”
“Good night, Chyanne.”
I was left standing there in the cold, staring at her door as it closed. I walked to the office and paid her room up for the next couple of weeks. The office was just as cold and drab as the outside. The lowly old East Indian man behind the counter was clicking away on a computer that looked as if it was from the late nineties, and it smelled like moth balls. After I got the receipt, I asked for an envelope. My mother might not want my help, but I would give it to her, anyway. Since the rooms were dirt cheap, I slid the rest of the money underneath her door. As I walked down the stairs back to my car, my phone vibrated, alerting me to a text message.
It was from Aric. We need to talk when you get a chance, it read.
I waited to respond until I was in the car and all the doors were locked.
Okay. Will stop by later.
I didn’t know if I would stop by. I didn’t even know what we needed to talk about, but because I couldn’t focus at the moment, I just said whatever came to mind. For a while I thought about just sitting in my car to clear my head. I thought better of it, though, and decided to just head home. Home . . . I sighed. Did I really want to go home and then have to talk to Jamie about the issues plaguing our relationship? On top of the feelings I was harboring about dealing with my mother?
I looked down just as another text came through on my phone. Luckily, I was at a stoplight.
I’m okay. Just getting home. Wanted to let you know, like I promised.
I smiled. Thank you. Is your mom okay?
Yeah, she’s okay for now. Finally got her to go to sleep.
The light changed, and I just decided to call him instead. He answered on the first ring.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Hey. I was driving and couldn’t keep texting. Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked.
“As okay as a man can be who has just lost his father.”
Things were being moved around in the background. Music was playing, but I couldn’t make out what it was. There were times when I could hear water running, as if he was standing right next to the shower. He’d told me he had come home to shower and to be alone for a moment.
“I know the feeling.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Trust me . . . I do all too well.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You lose your father too?”
“Yes, fresh out of high school. Technically . . . I lost both parents.”
“Technically?”
“Yes, but we don’t need to talk about me. We need to make sure you keep your head on straight right now.”
“I miss him, Chy,” he said.
I could hear him blow out steam. His deep voice was heavier than it had ever been.
“I know you do.”
“I never got a chance to say good-bye. The last time I saw him, we were fighting. That’s the last memory I have of him, and I swear to God, if I could do it all over, I would.”
I wanted to reach out and hug him, wanted to let him know that I was there for him. I stayed on the phone with him as I drove. I tried to keep the conversation as light as possible so as not to burden him further. I even got him to laugh a little when I asked him if he missed me.
“Yes, I do, actually . . . ,” he said.
I stopped laughing and then swallowed slowly, a little embarrassed by his answer. “Stop playing. I was joking. It wasn’t a real question.”
“I gave a real answer.”
I chuckled lightly. “How do you miss me when I haven’t given you any reason to?”
“Trust me, you have and you did.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“So why are you sitting outside my house?”
After hearing him tell me he’d gone home just so he could shower and spend some time alone, I had started to make my way to his house instead of going home. I looked up to see him open the door. I could see the tiny blue light from the Bluetooth flashing in his ear. When he crossed his legs at the ankles, then slid his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorjamb . . . I knew I was in trouble.
“I came because I was worried about a friend,” I said, defending myself.
“And as your friend, I appreciate it.”
“So is that your way of telling me to leave?”
“No.”
“So should I come in to check on you?”
There was a small beam of golden light shining behind him, but the rest of the house was dark.
“Only if you feel like you should.”
I sat in his circular driveway, playing a game of Truth or Dare. I had no idea what the hell I was doing. Why in the hell was I not at home, talking to Jamie?
I turned the car engine off, then stepped out into the cold air. The wind immediately reminded me that I should have worn a bigger coat. I rushed forward with thoughts of Jamie and my mother on my mind, but my eyes were locked on Gabe. There was a big, stretchy beige rubber band holding his locks back. Even though there was a slight smile on his face, his eyes told that he had been crying. I could feel the inviting heat from his home as soon as I stepped up to the door. The thick mahogany door leaned against the wall behind him.
“I just came to make sure you were doing as well as you claimed to be. I needed to be sure,” I told him. “Losing a parent is hard, especially when you loved them as much as I think you loved your father.”
“How do you know how much I loved him?”
“I don’t think it would hurt as badly if you didn’t.”
Steam from my lips swirled around as I spoke.
“Want to come in?” he asked.
Chocolate-brown eyes peered down at me. His masculine frame shadowed me as he stood at his full height. The light blue button-down shirt he had on hung open, showing his chocolate chiseled chest. I was in trouble.
“If you want me to.”
Neither one of us was an idiot. We knew what was going on. At least I did on my end. I walked in when he stepped aside to invite me in. Images of the last time I was in his house flashed across my mind. When he closed the door and I felt his body heat on my back, I inhaled, closed my eyes, then exhaled.
Gabe
There was nothing like making a woman moan when she belonged to someone else. Yeah, I knew it was wrong, but I’d be damned if I could or would stop it. Chy belonged to someone else, but she was underneath me, writhing in pleasure. She took my mind off the fact that my father was gone, took away the pain of knowing that the last time I’d seen him was the last time I would see him. I needed that, wanted it, had to have it like it was my last breath.
Her head was back as my hands gripped her thighs, holding them just wide enough to allow me to long stroke her into another orgasm. When Chy orgasmed, she was like poetry in motion. Aric was right. Chy had a way of making a man feel like her body was a blank canvas, and it was mine to do with as I saw fit. The way she slowly and softly moaned my name made my dick harder.
She grabbed the back of my head and brought her lips to mine. Her kiss surpr
ised me. It was personal, which meant she was trying to make what we were doing special in her own little way. Kissing was personal. It meant that the intimacy level between you and the other person just went up a notch. Her kiss was deadly. It signaled the end of my and Aric’s friendship in that moment, because I was gone. It signaled the end of her and Jamie’s relationship, because no way could she kiss me like that and not feel the same thing, the same jolt of electricity that shot through me . . . making me hump my spine and pump in and out of her harder than before.
From the moment she laid her plush chocolate lips against mine, I’d been hypnotized. The way she would expertly work her tongue so that it danced with mine made me wonder just why the hell Aric had let all of this go and just why the hell Jamie didn’t have her locked in a damn basement somewhere. We were both naked, and her thighs slid against mine, causing friction as she moaned. Her body smelled like cocoa butter mixed with her natural pheromones.
I let out a satisfied groan as her hands trailed down and gripped that part of me that had slipped out because she was so wet . . . at least that was what I told myself. I had to pull out because the threat of coming was blinding me. She tried to guide me back inside of her, but I flipped her on top of me as my hands raked through her hair. Everything about her turned me on, even the texture of her hair. Her big doe-like eyes stayed locked on mine, allowing me to see how real the lust was between us. With her thick thighs wrap around me, I could feel the heat and the honey-like wetness soaking her thighs. My hands massaged her breasts before moving around to her back and sliding down to grip her lush backside. I could have died a happy man when she lifted herself just enough to use her hand to guide me inside of her.
“Wow . . .” That was all I could say when her tightness enclosed me and sucked me in. Her pussy muscles couldn’t be explained, not with the way they worked me. She had me biting down on my lips as I looked into her eyes. The way we sexed had been intense before, but nothing like now. Something had been missing for her before, and whatever that was, I was giving it to her now. She was giving it to me just like I gave it to her in return.
Tell Me No Lies Page 21
