The Eleventh Commandment

by Lutishia Lovely

  “Hmm . . . Maybe she should be the one to tell you.”

  “Don’t tell me she and Jack are divorcing.”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “Is it Sarah? Thomas? Or Jackson?”

  “No, their children are fine.” Yvette took the towel from around her neck and placed it in the duffel bag along with the weights. “Don’t tell her I told you and act surprised at the news.” A pause and then, “They’re having another baby.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Yvette said with a nod, smiling at the incredulity in Hope’s voice. “Sarah, Thomas, and Jackson are getting ready to have a little brother or sister.”

  “Oh.” It was the last type of news Hope expected and she didn’t know why hearing it made her feel bad. “That’s . . . interesting.”

  Little did she know, but “interesting” had just begun.

  Cy eased into the backseat of the town car, aching with weariness and more than a little ready to see his wife and kids. The trip to South Africa had been a challenge from start to finish: from losing the contractors his company thought they’d secured for the village rebuilding project to his flight home being canceled just moments before they were scheduled to board. He was tired, hungry, and horny . . . and not necessarily in that order. After a brief chat with the driver, he raised the partition and pulled out his phone. His first thoughts were of Hope, wanting to call her and to hear her voice. But his wife hadn’t been too talkative these days; an outward manifestation of the inner turmoil his seeing Trisha had obviously caused. He knew she tried to be understanding but every now and then her frustration would bubble to the surface. Can you blame her? No, Cy could not. He had to admit that given the circumstances, Hope had been more than patient. How would you feel if the tables were turned? He’d asked himself the question a thousand times and still didn’t have the answer. After a series of talks with her mother, Pat, Hope had come to Cy determined to trust him and see what was happening from his point of view. Their lives had returned to a slightly different yet peaceful kind of normal, and he’d tried to be as sensitive as possible, not emphasizing his dealings with Trisha, but not wanting to hide them either. And then there was the other conversation, the one where Hope had all but accused him of—Cy looked out the window, observing without really seeing the passing scenery as he remembered.

  Cy walked into the kitchen to find Hope juicing vegetables for what she called his morning health drink. “I talked to Trisha today.”

  “What else is new?” Hope mumbled as carrots churned in the juicer chute.

  “What did you say, baby?”

  “I said . . . what’d she say to you?” She placed another carrot into the chute.

  Cy moved closer so that he could be heard over the noise. “This is a good week—no nausea, better energy. She almost sounded like her old self.”

  “How nice.”

  Which caused Cy to look at her—really look at his wife. He placed a hand on hers, preventing her from stuffing another noise-inducing vegetable into the chute. “What’s the matter, Hope?”

  “What’s the matter, Hope?” she mimicked, as if channeling her four year-old child. Turning around, she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. “Oh, I don’t know, Cy. Maybe it’s just a little much for a wife to have her husband come bouncing into the room all chipper because his ‘first love’ ”—she said with air quotes—“is sounding more like her old self. Maybe she’s wanting you to visit her in New York, so you can help her feel even more like her old self!”

  What the hell? Cy did a quick calculation before he spoke. When was your last period? Cy spoke in a deceptively calm manner. Where was Hope’s compassion, her concern for a human being? “Would you prefer that I not say anything, that I not discuss with my wife how I’m feeling about someone I used to care about?” No answer. “I’m telling you, Hope, because I thought you’d rejoice in the fact that someone who’s dying is having a good day for a change. Referring to Trisha’s old self is remembering someone who was healthy, vibrant—okay, maybe I shouldn’t have said that—someone who wasn’t wondering whether the next breath she took would be her last.”

  “Oh, please.” Hope turned back around and added cabbage and celery to the juicer before throwing over her shoulder, “You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

  “And you’re being a bit selfish, don’t you think?” He began walking out of the kitchen.

  “Wait, Cy, your drink.”

  He stopped abruptly and turned around. “You drink it. So you can stay healthy.”

  The two didn’t talk that day, a rarity as their lives were generally peppered with frequent, quick phone calls, often just to ask a question or to let one know that the other was thinking about them. By the time Cy returned home they had both cooled off. Cy had also talked to his cousin who told Cy to look at the situation from Hope’s point of view. Which led to the question he’d been asking himself since: how would he handle it if it were her first love wanting her near? It also led to a second question. Is this right, what I’m doing? And a third. And fourth. How can I leave Trisha at what may be the end of her life? How can I just turn away? He’d entered the house not knowing what kind of reception he’d get. Hope had met him with open arms. They’d apologized to each other and sealed their “I’m sorry” with a night of making love. The next day they’d had a heart-to-heart about it. He’d agreed to only discuss Trisha on a need-to-know basis, and Hope had agreed to trust Cy’s faithfulness. For a while, the Taylor household had returned to a kind of normal. But even with her name rarely spoken, the situation with Trisha was often still the elephant in the room.

  Cy’s phone vibrated. He didn’t recognize the number, but the 212 area code told him it was New York. Immediately, he thought of Trisha and hoped it wasn’t some hospital calling with bad news. “Hello?”

  “Hey, man. What’s poppin’?”

  “Sim?”

  “Ha! Thought that number would throw you off. I bought a new cell phone and thought I’d get a new number to help me acclimate to my new zip code.”

  “So you bought the brownstone?”

  “No, I decided on the loft in Tribeca.”

  “Good choice, but I’m a bit surprised.”

  “I know, all of the renovations. But the contractor you recommended has assured me that he can have the work done in six weeks.”

  “That sounds reasonable. So what are you doing there now?”

  “I’m—Oh, wait a minute, Cy. This is my new business partner calling. I’ll call you back.”

  Cy reached La Jolla, tipped the driver, and was soon walking through his front door to a lovely sight. “Hope!”

  Hope, who’d been sitting in the living room surfing the net, was in his arms in an instant. “I missed you,” she said, after a prolonged kiss that said the same thing. She stepped back. “You look exhausted, baby. I can see dark circles under your eyes.”

  “This trip was a bitch, babe,” he said, taking her hand as he walked toward the stairs and their master suite. “Delays in construction, material delivery and—Never mind. I’d rather not even talk about that right now. The twins asleep?”

  “Yes, thankfully. Acacia caught a cold and now that she’s getting better I think Camon has it. They both kept me up almost all of last night.”

  “So I guess I won’t wake them up for a little fun time with father.”

  “Not unless you want to make their mother very unhappy.”

  They reached the bedroom. He turned to her and once again, pulled her into his arms. “I definitely don’t want to do that,” he cooed, his voice low and dripping with desire. “Because as soon as I shower off the tiredness from this trip, I’m going to show you just what I’ve been thinking about while I’ve been gone.” He started a slow grind against her, letting his arms fall until her booty was perfectly cupped in his hands. He squeezed one set of cheeks while kissing the other. Feeling himself begin to harden, he broke their embrace and began undressin
g. He set his cell phone, keys, and items from his pants pocket on the nightstand and then added his slacks to the shirt draped across the bed. “I got a call from Simeon,” he said from the en suite bath as he finished undressing.

  “Oh, yeah?” Hope had already showered and after taking Cy’s clothes to the hamper in their dressing room, climbed into the center of their custom-made bed. “What did he want?”

  “He’s moving to New York.”

  “Really, when?”

  “When the renovation on his loft is finished. In fact, he’s there now.”

  “Has he found a job there?”

  “I don’t know. He got a call in the middle of our conversation. He’s supposed to call me back.” Hope heard Cy turn on the shower. She reached for a catalog, idly browsing the selection of underwear and lingerie. Seeing a set that she thought sexy and knew Cy would love, she eased off the bed to retrieve her iPad and place the order. While across the room, Cy’s phone rang. At first she didn’t give it a second thought, but then remembering what he’d said about Simeon calling, she hurried over to catch the call. It stopped ringing in her hand.

  Darn it. Hope hit the screen and saw the missed call. 212. Hope hit redial, excited to talk to her cousin-in-law. Even though they hadn’t socialized often during her and Cy’s six years of marriage, she absolutely adored Simeon. He was smart and gorgeous and kept her laughing. At one time she’d thought about him for her cousin, Frieda. Too bad that didn’t work out. Simeon was one of the good ones.

  The voice answering on the other end abruptly brought her out of her reverie. “Well, if it isn’t my handsome cyclone! Are you back in the states?”

  “This isn’t your handsome cyclone,” Hope said, with the type of calm that’s found in the eye of the storm. “It’s his wife, Hope.” Silence. “You must be Trisha.”

  32

  Get Here When You Can

  Trisha closed her eyes against the reality of the moment. She had pushed all the strength she had into the chipper greeting that she’d meant for Cy’s ears. It had become her practice, trying to sound upbeat when they talked, when in reality she was anything but. The truth of the matter was that her health wasn’t getting better, but worse. The last round of treatments that her doctor had devised weren’t working and short of the intense and debilitating rounds of chemo and radiation that he’d recommended, options that guaranteed her only a few more months at best, Trisha’s end was rapidly approaching. She tried to keep these facts hidden from Cy because she didn’t want to worry him and she wanted the time he’d agreed to spend with her to be filled with living life, not thoughts of death. Given her prognosis, his next few visits needed to happen sooner rather than later. She wanted to see him as soon as possible, in hopes of spending as much time with him as she could. That’s why she’d called.

  After she recovered from the spasm of pain in her abdomen, Trisha responded. “Hello, Hope.”

  Hope’s chuckle was hollow and insincere. “Not as enthusiastic to talk to me, I see. But then again, I can understand that. It’s a bit awkward to speak to the wife of the man with whom you’re flirting.”

  “It was innocent, Hope, a pet name I used to call him. But you’re right. It’s inappropriate. I apologize.”

  Well, damn. Hearing the sincerity in her voice, mixed with something else, took some of the wind out of Hope’s angry sails. “Why are you calling?”

  Because time is running out. “Because I wanted to find out when Cy might be visiting New York. I need to see him.” The pain in Trisha’s heart brought on the pain in her stomach, a fact that was reflected in the breathiness of the last sentence.

  One minute cooing and the next sounding ready to die? Is this woman faking? Are both me and Cy being played? “Oh, so now we’re trying to sound sick. Where’s that sexy sounding voice you used just a minute ago?”

  “A front,” Trisha managed as she endured another stab of pain. “I know what kind of man Cy is, Hope, and don’t want him to worry. But woman to woman, and just between us, I don’t think I’m going to last much longer. I’ve decided not to endure the pain of chemo and radiation. I know this is incredibly selfish of me, but this is why I wanted to spend time with Cy. If I weren’t dying, it’s a request I’d never consider. But I’m only asking for a couple days, or weeks, Hope. Then you guys will have each other for the rest of your lives.”

  The honesty in her statement left Hope speechless, which is why she stood silent, clutching the phone, as a towel-clad Cy walked out of the bathroom, noted that Hope was on his phone. That was unusual; she didn’t normally answer his cell. And then he remembered his earlier comment. “Is that Simeon?” he asked, as he crossed the room to where she stood.

  “No,” Hope answered, handing him the phone. “It’s Trisha.”

  Cy locked eyes with Hope as she handed him the phone and started to walk away. He placed a hand on her arm, stopping her, and then put the call on speaker. “Hey, Tricky!”

  “Hey, Cy.”

  At the sound of her voice, Cy glanced at Hope. “How are you, Trisha?”

  “Oh, as I was telling Hope, a little tired tonight. But what I didn’t get to do is apologize to her for coming into your lives the way that I did. I knew you were married when I contacted you, Cy, and probably should have done this at the beginning, talked to her, made sure that she was okay with my talking to you. It was selfish of me and if I were in her shoes I’d be angry too. I’d like to tell her that I’m sorry.”

  “You just did,” Cy replied. The look he gave Hope was hard to read. “You’re on speaker.”

  “I appreciate your saying that, Trisha, and while I’ve tried to put myself in your place, I’m glad that you realize how this is from my side. I’m sorry for what’s happening to you. I know that being able to have closure at a time like this, to leave ... to not have regrets... is important. Cy is rightfully concerned about you, and wants to do whatever he can to make things better right now. I believe that that’s the right thing to do.”

  This time when Hope looked at Cy there was no mistaking the look in his eyes—adoration . . . and love.

  “So, Trisha, you’re doing okay?” Cy nodded as Hope gestured toward the door, then watched as she left the room. He walked to the suite’s sitting area, but paced instead of sitting down. “I can hear the tiredness in your voice.”

  “Yes, Cy, I’m very tired. And I received some news today that wasn’t the best.” Trisha relayed what she’d told Hope about the chemo. “I was hoping that work would be bringing you here soon,” she finished. “And that perhaps you could spend some time with me?”

  “I’ll make it happen,” Cy said without hesitation. “In fact, there’s somebody else who’d love to see you.”

  “Hope. Of course you’d bring her. I guess it would be too much to ask to spend that time with you alone.”

  “I wasn’t talking about my wife. I was talking about my cousin.”

  “Simeon?!”

  Cy laughed. “The one and only.”

  From the moment they’d met, Simeon and Trisha had formed a mutual admiration society. More than once she’d threatened to hook up with Simeon if she ever broke up with Cy. When the breakup happened, however, Trisha had disappeared from Simeon’s life as completely as she had from Cy’s, and like Cy until recently, Simeon hadn’t seen Trisha in a very long time.

  “Have you told him about . . . my illness?”

  “I did.”

  “Wow, Simeon. Just saying his name brings back so many wonderful memories. I’d love to see him again.” There was silence, as both Cy and Trisha thought of the time surrounding those memories and, given Cy’s marital status, some thoughts were more appropriate than others. Trisha’s interruption of these thoughts was well timed. “Where is he living now? Wait, don’t tell me he’s married with children.”

  “If I did, it would be a lie. Up until a month ago, he was living in Alaska.”

  “Stop it! You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “No.” Cy told Trisha a
bout Simeon’s job. “But as we speak, he’s in New York.”

  “Living here?”

  “He will be in about six weeks. I had an emergency happen with a project in South Africa, so an associate has been working on the businesses in New York. Things are crazy right now, but I’ll definitely be there when he gets moved in.”

  “I wish you could come sooner.” Trisha’s voice was soft, plaintive.

  “Why?”

  “Um . . . not feeling well.”

  Cy’s heartbeat increased. “When would you like me to try and come up?”

  “As soon as possible, Cy,” was Trisha’s immediate response. “I need to see you, to spend time with you as soon as you can.”

  33

  For Always

  Bo and Darius had just enjoyed a simple yet delicious dinner of salad, baked potatoes, ears of corn, and perfectly done steaks straight off the grill. It was a rare week when Darius’s schedule was light, void of rehearsals, meetings, or travel, and he and Bo had been taking full advantage. Last night they’d enjoyed front-row seats at a Jay-Z and Beyoncé concert and two days before that they’d treated themselves to twenty-four hours at Canyon Ranch, a luxury spa just two hours from Phoenix where they enjoyed mud baths, steam baths, and couple massages in a gay-friendly atmosphere. The food had been stellar and while they’d passed on the hiking trails, Bo had admired Darius’s taut backside when the physically fit producer/musician/singer/R & B star scaled the climbing wall. They’d laughed and loved and watched shooting stars while floating in a natural pool. Darius remembered all of the reasons why Bo was the love of his life and Bo almost forgot the reason Darius was being so attentive.

  Unfortunately, the ringing phone on the granite-countered bar separating the kitchen and the living/dining space was a constant reminder. The fool who fancied himself madly in love with Darius had been calling all day.

  Darius, who was helping Bo put away the food, walked over to the phone, checked the caller ID, then casually strolled back over to the dishwasher.