“One final thing.” I look back over the rest of the crowd. “Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I’d ever be up at this podium receiving such a prestigious award for doing what comes to me naturally—writing. But I know that I have been given a gift so that I can give back. And for this reason, I have decided to use the proceeds of this award and a portion of my book royalties to open a Helping Hands charity right here in New York. Unfortunately, recent news of young Black and Hispanic girls being kidnapped or going missing in the Bronx has been widely overlooked. It is highly suspected that these girls are being trafficked and no one outside of these communities is doing much about it. This must end, and I aim to use my voice, my money, and the resources I have available to aid in bringing these girls home and seeing that our communities remain safe places for children to grow up. Thank you for this,” I say, holding up the award and stepping back from the podium.
My breath catches when I see my whole table standing and applauding wildly, without caring what anyone else thinks. Then one by one more audience members rise to their feet and applaud. Overcome with emotion, I finally let a few more tears fall freely as I cradle the award in my arms. Once again, on shaky legs I step down off of the main stage and I’m greeted by strong arms. I have no idea how he made it from the table over to the stage in that short amount of time, but I’m grateful that he did.
Jeremy pulls back, cupping my chin. He looks deeply into my eyes. “You did good, doll.”
That causes more tears to fall and I let them, welcoming a feeling I only have whenever I’m in his arms, wash over me.
****
Jeremy
“That was one hell of a speech.” The words are said to my back, but I know the owner of that voice.
“Senator Nathaniel Roberts, how nice of you to join us this evening.” I smugly turn to greet the senator.
He’s standing a few feet away from me, at the exact, same height. His eyes are shooting daggers at me. He’s lucky Coral and Liam left just moments ago, needing to get back to the hotel for LJ’s next feeding. I scan over the crowd to see Andre is schmoozing with some other business associates.
“I’m just waiting for my date to finish speaking with her agent and sister. How can I help you, Senator?” I barely pay him a glance as I look down at the time on my watch. LaTasha is in the restroom with Camille and Stacey, which means she may be in there for a while. That agent of hers can talk a mile a minute.
“Coral’s sister?” Nate’s eyebrow lifts high.
I shrug not without saying a word.
“Don’t think I forgot what you did,” he says low enough so passersby don’t hear him.
“What I did? What exactly was that?” I know what he’s referring to, but I want him to say it.
“Don’t play dumb. Setting up my woman with that cousin of yours.”
At that I scoff. “Nate, you know damn well Coral was never yours.”
“I was working on it,” he shoots back.
“No. You were losing. You were always going to lose that battle for two reasons.” I pause and wait for him to ask.
“What might those two reasons be?”
“One, Coral has always belonged to Liam. That’s a fact of life whether they were together or not, they would’ve made their way back to one another with or without my help. And two,” I say, moving closer to him. “Coral could never give you what you need. You know it and I do too.”
His eyes narrow on me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know damn well what it means. Coral’s nobody’s sub. You could try to suppress it all you want, but you need someone who’ll submit to you. It’s your nature to be a Dom the same way it’s in me.” I continue to stare him down the same way he glares at me. Senator Nathaniel Roberts may be the all-American, articulate, well-groomed guy from the picture perfect family, but behind closed doors, he’s anything but. We both have been in this life for a long time. He’s even deeper in than I am.
“Hey, Nate, what are you doing here? Don’t you have some business in D.C. to tend to?” Camille sounds off behind me, alerting us of the women’s arrival.
I step back at the same time Nate does as well, his face morphing into a friendlier one as he sets his sights behind me. “I just wanted to congratulate the woman of the evening and my favorite cousin.” He steps around me to press a kiss to Camille’s cheek before grabbing LaTasha’s hand and pressing his lips to it. “A pleasure, Ms. Jones and congratulations,” he says, calling LaTasha by her pen name. “And you must be Stacey,” he greets. “Your sister speaks highly of you.”
Stacey’s brows crinkle in confusion, looking toward LaTasha.
Tasha quickly shakes her head.
“Oh! You mean, Coral.” Stacey concludes. “How do you know my sister, Senator?”
“We served together,” he answers swiftly.
LaTasha looks to me, knowingly. I had a feeling she knew about Nate and Coral’s little fling.
“Camille, I didn’t know Senator Roberts was your cousin,” LaTasha states.
“Ugh…” Camille waves her hand dismissively. “I try to keep it under wraps. Do you know how many women would hound me if they knew I was related to this man? They would drive me crazy trying to get hooked up. No, thank you!” Camille teases and we laugh.
“We’ll have to discuss how you’ve been cock blocking a brother later, cousin. Right now, I have a ride to catch to our nation’s capital. Ladies, it was a pleasure. Bennett,” he says my name with a tinge of scorn in his voice, resulting in my cocky grin.
I know he’s still pissed because he thinks I came between him and Coral. But the truth is the truth. She was never his to begin with, and it would have never worked between them. Neither one of them was what the other needed.
“I’m going to go grab my husband and head back to the hotel. Celebratory brunch tomorrow, right?” Stacey asks, looking at LaTasha and me.
“Eleven o’clock sharp,” I confirm.
“Great. I’m so proud of you! Congratulations again,” Stacey gushes and pulls LaTasha into a hug before sauntering off.
“What was that about?” LaTasha asks once Camille and Stacey depart.
“What was what about?” I play dumb.
LaTasha stops short in front of me, folding her arms causing her breasts to poke out even more. I grin, licking my bottom lip, imagining the taste of her soft skin. “Jeremy, the senator… He seemed mad at you for some reason.”
“Nothing important,” I say, reaching out a finger to caress the silky skin on her neck and chest. “I can think of about a hundred other things I’d like to do with you besides talk about Nate Roberts.”
“Only a hundred?” The way she bats her long lashes at me causes stiffening in my groin area.
“You’re in so much damn trouble tonight,” I growl, pulling her close to my side to make our way out to the waiting vehicle. I’ve got plans that will not be denied tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Jeremy
“You ready for this?”
I angle my head to look down at the woman next to me. The concern in her eyes warms me from the inside out. I feel her squeeze my hand and as she cups it in both of hers, steadying me.
“How could I not be ready with you next to me?” Where the hell did those words come from? Sure, they’re the truth, but that’s not what I originally meant to say when I opened my mouth. I bring one of her hands to my lips. “I’m ready,” I assure her as we enter the hospice doors.
It’s been three days since we’ve returned from New York, and LaTasha has not left my side since. Or maybe I should say I haven’t allowed her to leave my side. The only time she’s been back to her place was to get fresh clothes and spend some time with Coral and the baby. It feels unnatural to have her sleep anywhere besides my bed at night. Today she’s finally convinced me to come in and speak with my mother again, after receiving a call from the night nurse the previous evening on her worsening condition. Doctors are saying she may have
only have a month or two left to live, and LaTasha is insistent that I spend as much time with her as possible. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let anyone boss me around or tell me what to do with my damn time, but shit is different when she says it. So here I am.
“Oh, Jeremy, I didn’t know you were coming in today,” Ms. Watson, the director who happens to be at the front desk greets me with a smile.
“Hello, Ms. Watson, you’re looking quite lovely today,” I reply. “This is my girlfriend, LaTasha,” I say, ignoring the way her head snaps up in shock at the word girlfriend. It’s the first time I’ve ever introduced her as such, but again, it just feels natural.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, LaTasha.”
“Please, call me Tasha. Nice to meet as well.”
“We came for a visit. How is she this morning?”
“She’s much better this morning than she was last night. There was a little bit of a scare, but she’s improved now that she’s rested a bit. I think she just overdid it a little yesterday, trying to go for a walk during the day.”
I nod.
“I’ll walk you two back.”
I squeeze Tasha’s hand as we turn to follow Ms. Watson around the receptionist’s desk and down the long hallway toward my mother’s room. Along the way, we pass a large room with televisions mounted on the wall. A few residents are sitting inside the room with what I presume are their visitors. The look of sorrow on one woman’s face hits me in the gut as she looks down at an elderly man in a wheelchair, trying to feed him applesauce. My stomach twists uncomfortably with the knowledge of what this building holds. Not just the sick, but the dying. Most residents who come in here do not leave alive. I shake my head and turn my attention to the hallway ahead. We finally reach my mother’s room after making a right from the main hallway. Ms. Watson opens the door.
“Look who’s up this morning,” she greets cheerily. “You have a visitor this morning.”
“Who is it?” a paper thin voice asks, and for some reason it pains me to know that voice belongs to my mother.
“Jeremy,” Ms. Watson responds. “Oh, don’t worry about fixing your hair. You look fine,” she fusses. “Come on in, Jeremy and LaTasha.”
“Oh no. I—”
I pull LaTasha in the door behind me, cutting off her refusal. I have zero intention of leaving her out of this.
“Hi, Mar..um…Mo…Mar… Hello,” I greet, feeling too wound up to find the name that I feel more comfortable calling her. “This is LaTasha,” I introduce. “LaTasha, this is Marilyn, my mother.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Mrs. Bennett?” my mother repeats confused. “I was never a Bennett. Just call me Marilyn.”
“Sure thing, Marilyn.”
“I’ll leave you all to visit. My shift is about to end. I’ll be back in tomorrow night. All right, Marilyn? Enjoy your son and his girlfriend.”
I wait until Ms. Watson leaves the room and shuts the door behind her before I speak. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m no worse for the wear.” She shrugs a pair of thin shoulders.
I take in her appearance, seeing that her normally shiny hair has lost its luster, turning into a dull grayish-black color. Her skin is pale as well, and she has definitely lost even more weight since the last time I saw her, which was only a few weeks ago.
“Have you been eating?”
“You two sit down. It hurts my neck to have to look up at you standing there at the foot of the bed all stiff like that,” she says, ignoring my question.
LaTasha looks around the room before opting to leave me the chair closest to my mother’s bed. She takes the chair near the window.
I sit in the seat beside my mother’ bed. “Have you been eating?” I ask again.
She waves a bony hand, dismissing the question. “The food here is terrible. They feed me this bland crap all steamed or baked and tasteless,” she scoffs.
I know that’s not the full truth. This place has one of the best reputations in the state as far as hospices are concerned. They do serve mostly lightly seasoned food because many of the residents can’t stomach a highly seasoned diet.
“You need to eat. How else are you going to keep your strength up?”
She shrugs again, but its cut off when she begins coughing. LaTasha’s immediately at her side, bringing the oxygen mask to her face. It must have been on the side of the bed. My chest hurts and expands at the sight of LaTasha, consolingly my mother and rubbing her back as she patiently holds the oxygen mask to her face. A few minutes later her cough quieted down and she lays back against her pillows, looking exhausted.
“Maybe we should let you rest,” I say, standing.
“No!” she attempt to yells. “I mean…uh…please don’t leave.”
The pleading note in her tone forces me to retake my seat.
“We’re not going anywhere,” LaTasha announces from the other side of the room, and I’m grateful for it.
“Are you my son’s girlfriend?” My mother suddenly asks, eyeing LaTasha.
I stiffen at that question, ready to cut this little interrogation short if I feel my mother is about to get out of control or rude. Even in her weakened state, I still remember her curtness and dismissal of those she deems less than her; even me, her own son.
“Y-yes,” LaTasha answers smiling across the room at me. “Apparently, I am.”
That garners a laugh from me. Truth is, she’s much more than my girlfriend or my sub, but that’s a different discussion.
“Good. He needs a good woman in his life. Lord knows I wasn’t the mother he needed.” She sighs.
That little moment of self-awareness leaves me stunned.
“Facing death has a way of making one reevaluate their life.” She covers her mouth as she yawns, which turns into coughing. She quickly holds up her hand, halting LaTasha, who’s reaching for the oxygen mask. “I-It’s okay.” She soon quiets down, as this coughing fit wasn’t as bad.
“You need your rest,” I say. Feeling the need to do something, I stand and pull the covers up over her. “We’ll be here when you wake up.” That comment seems to settle her and she finally gives up the fight against sleep and closes her eyes. I continue to watch her silently for a few minutes until the steady rise and fall of her chest tells me she’s asleep.
“Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” LaTasha answers.
I can’t leave her yet.
“I was thinking,” LaTasha says just above a whisper as she stands by me at the bed. “You have a number of guest bedrooms in your home.”
I clench my jaw and close my eyes, wondering where she’s going with this.
“Maybe you should bring her home.”
I inhale deeply.
“I’m sure hiring twenty-four hour care would be just as much or even less than the cost of keeping her here.” She gestures around the room. “And I’ll help,” she commits, grabbing my hand.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that. She’s my mother,” I insist.
“I know you wouldn’t ask, but as your girlfriend, I want to do this for you.” She grins and bats her long lashes.
“When you put it like that,” I say, running my hand through my hair. I let out a huge breath, thinking of exactly what I’m taking on by having my mother in my house, living with me, and sleeping under my roof in her last few days of life. I’ve hated this woman for years. I wished I could have been born to anyone but her. I told myself for years I wouldn’t give her a second thought if I ever saw her again, but now here she is. Not only is she back in my life, but the woman I adore beyond measure is asking me to take her into the comfort of my home.
“It’s the last thing you’d think of doing. Believe me, I know the anger one carries around at a mother who’s wronged you in every way,” she continues as if she’s reading my thoughts. “But this isn’t just about her. I saw the way you looked around this place as we entered. You felt the coldness of it just as I did. And I don’t think you’d be a
ble to live with yourself if you let her die here alone.”
My Storm Page 21
