Date Cute Marry Rich

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Date Cute Marry Rich Page 11

by Alexis Nicole


  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Devin said. “You’re not going to cry when I don’t know what we’re crying about yet.”

  He poured a glass of wine, handed it to me, and I burst right into tears. I couldn’t help it.

  “What?” Devin asked as Skye came up onto the couch to hold me again.

  “She can’t drink.”

  “Why not?” Devin frowned. And then his eyes got wide. Slowly, he put the glass down. “You’re pregnant?”

  I nodded because I couldn’t speak. Tears were coming out of my eyes too fast.

  “Get out. Is that what this Code Red is about?”

  “Yes,” Skye said.

  I got myself together enough to say, “No. It’s not.”

  It was Skye’s turn to frown.

  I said, “It’s about the fact that my baby’s father, Malcolm . . . is . . . is married.”

  “What?” my friends said at the same time.

  I took a deep breath, then told my friends about all that had happened since they’d seen me off to the gala. When I got to the part about Malcolm’s wife, they both leaned forward, as if they were sitting on the edge of their seats, watching some Academy Award–winning movie.

  “When she introduced herself, what did you do?” Devin asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing. I just told her it was nice to meet her.”

  “Hmph! I would’ve snatched that weave right off of her head.”

  “It’s not her fault,” Skye said.

  “That’s right. I’m the other woman!” Just saying that made me start crying all over again.

  This time Devin joined us on the couch, and both of my friends held me.

  Devin said, “Well, I think what we need to do now is just figure out a way to kill Malcolm.”

  “Dang, Devin!” Skye said.

  “Don’t jump on him. I’ve been trying to figure out the same thing. But I’m not sure that I’m a good enough lawyer to get myself off.”

  My two friends tried to laugh, but it didn’t sound as if anyone was happy.

  “So, I take it you didn’t tell him that you’re pregnant?” Skye asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  I shrugged. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  “Have you spoken to him at all?” Skye continued her questioning, as if she was the attorney.

  “No.”

  “What?” Devin jumped up. “He hasn’t even called you?”

  “No, no. I mean, yes. He’s called. About one hundred times. Telling me that he wants to explain. But I haven’t answered.”

  “I’m surprised that he didn’t try to come over here.”

  I shrugged; I had been thinking the same thing. “I don’t know what to say about Malcolm anymore. It’s like I never knew him.”

  “Well, I know one thing,” Devin piped in. “You need to get yourself together. Ain’t no reason for you to let a man take you out of the game like this.”

  “Devin’s right,” Skye agreed. “You can’t sit at home forever. What about work?”

  This was why I’d called a Code Red. I knew my friends would be able to get me to do what I hadn’t been able to talk myself into.

  “Get up,” Devin said, pulling my hand. “Go in there and take a shower,” he demanded. “Skye, you help her,” he continued, as if he was in charge. “And then I’ll hook your hair up, and we’ll all go out to dinner and figure this thing out.”

  I stood, not only because I had no choice, since Devin had grabbed my arms. But I also stood because my friend was right. I couldn’t afford to miss any more time at work, and I didn’t want to stay locked up in my apartment anymore. Plus, I had a baby growing inside of me and decisions had to be made. I couldn’t make any decisions, locked up in here, lying down and crying all day.

  So, I moped into the bedroom, with Skye right behind me. It was time for me to get my life back.

  Chapter 20

  Skye

  It was amazing the way life changed so fast. Just a few weeks ago Chyanne, Devin, and I had gotten together to celebrate Chyanne winning her first case, and we were all on top of the world. But now Chyanne was so far at the bottom that I didn’t know what was going to happen.

  Chyanne still didn’t know what she was going to do, but at least Devin and I had gotten her cleaned up and out of the house last night. Then she’d called me this morning—she was going to work. I hung up from her only after she promised to call me as soon as she got home from work.

  But the thing was, I was exhausted. I hadn’t taken a sick day since I’d started work, and right after I took that call from Chyanne, I called my boss, disguised my voice, told her that I had some kind of bug that I was sure would be over in twenty-four hours, then rolled back over in the bed.

  Now, two hours later, I had finally made my way into the living room, but as I curled up on the couch, I looked straight at the sketch that Noah had done of me.

  I still couldn’t believe it—it looked just like me, and I couldn’t figure out when he’d done it.

  “I caught a little bit here, a little bit there,” he’d said to me. “Every time I’m with you, I capture another facet of you, your loveliness, your peacefulness, your joy. I had to put that down on canvas.”

  “But . . . when? I never saw you sketching me.”

  “You’re in my mind all the time. Your image is always in my head.”

  Even now I sighed as I thought back to those words. That was the moment that I knew for sure that I was falling in love with this man. He was just so wonderful, unlike Malcolm.

  I shook my head. I wasn’t going to sit here and waste my day off thinking about Chyanne and how horrible Malcolm was.

  Yeah, Noah. That was where I needed to have my attention, especially since he already had my heart.

  I glanced up at the sketch again and realized it had been two days since I’d seen him. Noah and I never got to spend much time together during the week because of my schedule.

  I got the idea and jumped up at the same time. What had I been thinking? I had a day off. How many hours could I spend with Noah? I couldn’t get to the shower fast enough. But it was there, under the spray of the water, that I began to think about what this day would bring.

  Even though we hadn’t spoken the words to each other, I was in love with Noah, and it was so clear that he was in love with me. So, what was I waiting for? Maybe it was time to commit myself fully to him. Maybe it was time for us to sleep together.

  That thought was still in my mind as I got dressed. I’d never taken sex lightly and, really, still had the same values that my parents had instilled in me as I was growing up. Sex before marriage was not the best of things. But now that I was with Noah, I felt different. It was so clear to me that Noah and I were going to be together. It just felt right.

  Yeah, this was the time. Today was the day. And the best part was that Noah didn’t even know it.

  I checked myself out in the mirror before I left my apartment. My jeans and halter top were casual enough, but sexy. And easy to get off—that was important. Outside, I stopped at the deli on the corner and purchased Noah’s favorite: a pastrami sandwich. Next, I grabbed a bottle of white wine and glanced at the cheesecake that I knew that Noah loved. But then I decided that he didn’t need any dessert—I would be more than enough for him.

  I smiled all the way down to his loft, imagining what it was going to be like to be with Noah fully. I was nervous—I admit that. But nervous in a good way. Nervous in the excited way. I didn’t have anything to be afraid of. I loved every part of Noah’s body. And, I was in for some good stuff, because sometimes when we kissed and he pressed up against me, I could tell just how much he wanted me.

  Talking about getting hot and bothered! Just thinking about what was to come had me ready. Stepping out of the cab, I glanced up at Noah’s window—not that I expected him to be looking out. He was working.... I was sure of that. Well, he was just going to have to stop for a while.
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br />   Inside the building, I could already hear the music coming from his loft—John Coltrane. That was interesting. I didn’t know he worked to music. But I guess there wasn’t a lot that I did know about his work, since I was usually at work myself at this time.

  At his door I took a deep breath and knocked. I waited, then knocked again.

  The door suddenly opened, and I grinned. “Surprise!” I stepped past him before he could stop me, but then I stopped myself.

  It was hard for me to wrap my mind around the scene in front of me. In the middle of the room stood a woman, an attractive woman with her arms folded, looking me up and down.

  At least she was still dressed except for her shoes; she was barefoot.

  It took me only a couple of seconds to take in the scene—the flowers, the candles, the plates from which they’d eaten on the floor. And still, John Coltrane played in the background.

  My chest was hurting from the way my heart pounded, and I turned to Noah with so many questions. But I couldn’t get anything out. Finally, I cried, “Noah!”

  “Skye,” he said, taking steps toward me. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

  It was probably the fact that that was the first thing he said to me that made me flip out. I threw the little sandwich I’d bought for him right at his head. He ducked, and it was a good thing, because the bottle of wine was right after that. The bottle crashed onto the hardwood floor, spilling all over the place.

  “Skye!”

  Behind me, ol’ girl said, “Uh, Noah, I think I’m gonna get out of here!”

  I whipped around and faced her. “You better!” I screamed.

  “Skye!” Now Noah was on top of me, as if he was afraid that I might take a swing at the woman. And he was right, because I was two seconds off her butt.

  She rushed out of there like the loft was on fire. Well, I guess in a way it was.

  “How could you do this to me?” I asked Noah the moment we were alone. “I came over here to surprise you. To bring you lunch,” I screamed, pointing to the sandwich on the floor. “To spend the day with you.”

  “You should’ve called.”

  “What? Is that all you have to say to me?” This time I did start swinging, but Noah caught my wrists.

  “Why are you acting like this?”

  “Are you kidding me? I find you up here with another woman and . . .”

  “So.”

  So? Oh, it was on now. I tried to wrestle away from his grasp, but he held me tight.

  “Listen to me,” Noah said.

  I calmed down only because I had to.

  He held me as he explained, “I care for you, Skye, but we weren’t in a committed relationship.”

  “What?”

  “We’ve never established being in a relationship,” he said. “We were taking it slow, seeing where things go, but we were both free to see other people.”

  “That’s not what I thought,” I said weakly. “I thought we were together.”

  He shrugged. “We are . . . in a way, I guess, but I’m not ready to commit to anyone.”

  Noah must have seen it in my eyes—my defeat. And he let go of my hands. I stood there as still as stone as he continued.

  “I’m sorry, Skye, if you thought this was more than it was. But trust me, you don’t want to get serious with me.”

  How could he say that?

  “I’ve been there once. I tried to be committed. And my fiancée cheated on me. My heart’s not ready to go there again.”

  I wanted to tell him that I wouldn’t do that to him, that he could trust me with his heart.

  But then he said, “And, really, we’ve only known each other a few weeks. I’ve been seeing Monique”—he pointed to the door—“for a lot longer than I’ve been seeing you.”

  Those were the words that crushed me. Our relationship flashed through my mind. I thought about how we met, how he’d been so kind, so sweet, so loving. I thought about the way he’d kissed me and touched me as if he cherished me.

  But all of that had just been a man getting his freak on.

  Then I thought about the way I’d come over here today, fully prepared to give myself to him. My humiliation was complete.

  First, Chyanne and now me.

  I guess we weren’t ready for the big city.

  I grabbed my purse from the floor, and without looking at Noah, I walked across the room, trying my best to keep my head high. At least I wanted him to think that I still had some dignity.

  “I really do care about you, Skye, and I would really like for us to stay friends.”

  Friends? How could I be friends with him? Why did men think they could be selfish and then attach “I want to be friends” to the end of things and we’d accept that? I didn’t say anything and kept walking.

  “I’m sorry,” Noah said right before I got to the door.

  I wiped my tears away before I turned around to face him. “You sure are.”

  Outside, I just let the tears fall. That was probably why the first cab that rolled down the block stopped.

  “Are you all right, Miss?” the man with the turban asked me over and over.

  I didn’t bother to answer him. I didn’t feel like talking to any man.

  Inside my apartment I curled up on the couch and wondered what would’ve happened if I had just stayed here today. But I hadn’t, and now I knew the truth.

  We were both free to see other people.

  Those words that he’d spoken played over and over in my head. No, we weren’t! If we were, I would’ve gone out with the first man who’d come along. I would’ve gone out with Trent.

  Trent. Trent Hamilton.

  I sat up, rummaged through my purse, and his card was exactly where I had tucked it inside the pocket.

  Now all I could think about were the flowers that he’d sent me. Wasn’t that just yesterday? Yeah, yesterday, when I’d told him that I couldn’t go out with him because I was seeing someone else.

  I laughed, though I was hurting inside. And it was because of that hurt that I decided to make the call.

  Chapter 21

  Devin

  God had given me the wrong mother! And He was probably laughing about it. For real, I had the wrong mother, ’cause Juanita Williams was not supposed to be related to me in any way. No! Juanita Williams needed to have a daughter. Yeah, a daughter who was perfect and caused her no grief.

  And a daughter who was as nosy as she was.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mother; I did. It was just that we weren’t all that close. So, what was she doing sitting up here in my brownstone in Brooklyn, in my kitchen, complaining about this coffee that I had just made for her?

  “Are you surprised, Devin?” she asked me for the one hundredth time.

  Hell yeah, I was surprised. I had no idea who was knocking on my door at seven o’clock in the morning, and I had started not to answer it. But I had crawled out of bed, slumped down the stairs, opened the front door to “Surprise” and Juanita Williams standing on my steps.

  I must’ve stood there for five minutes with my mouth open.

  “Ma! What are you doing here?”

  While I let her in and closed the door, she explained to me how her group of church members and friends, known as the Getaways, was on its way to Italy.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

  “’Cause I didn’t want you pretending that you weren’t going to be home,” my mother said like she knew me. “And I’m only going to be here a couple of hours. I booked my flight so that I have this six-hour layover, though that doesn’t give us much time.”

  Six hours? That sounded like a lot of time to me.

  “So, are you surprised, Devin?”

  Oh, yeah, I was surprised. But she was lucky that she wasn’t the one surprised. On any given night, Antonio could’ve been up in here. And what would my mother have said then? Not that she didn’t know and not that she made a big deal about my being gay. But I could just tell that
she wasn’t happy about it. She never talked about it, never asked me a thing about my life. I was sure that every night she was on her knees, trying to pray my gay away.

  “So, how are the girls?” my mother asked.

  After she hadn’t seen me since the holidays, and after just talking to me about five times in the last six months, this was her first question to me? See what I was talking about? Juanita didn’t want to know a thing about what was going on with me.

  “They’re fine,” I said, though everything about Chyanne ran through my mind at that moment. I guess “fine” wasn’t really the right way to describe my girl right now, but what was I supposed to do? Tell my mother the truth—about the married man and her pregnancy? I don’t think so!

  “Either one of them married yet?”

  “No, Ma!” I said, as if I thought that was a stupid question. “You know we just got here. And if they had gotten married, it would’ve been back home with Reverend Davenport.”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She took a sip of her coffee. “So either one of them engaged?”

  I sighed. “No, Ma!”

  “Those girls better get moving. Neither one of them is getting any younger.”

  I didn’t have anything to say. And that was too bad, because the silence between my mom and me lasted for at least five minutes. That was just how it was with us. We loved one another but didn’t have anything to say to each other.

  Five minutes of silence and then, “So either one of them dating anyone serious?”

  Dang! My mother still didn’t have a thing to say about me. I guess I should’ve seen that as a blessing, but I didn’t. Why had she come over here, anyway? What time was she supposed to leave?

  “So, are you going to show me your shop?” she asked.

  I guess that was as close as she was going to get to my personal life, which made me happy and sad at the same time. “Yeah,” I said. “Let me get dressed.”

  I tried to take as much time as I possibly could getting ready. I had to find a way to use up some of the hours. When I got back downstairs, my mother was still right where I left her.

 

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