Have Your Cake

by Roi, D. S.

  “God dammit,” he bellowed.

  “Asher. Language.” His outburst didn’t shake her.

  “To fuckin’ hell with my language.” He swiped his hand palm down across his midline. Gritting his teeth, he paced a few steps away before doing an about-face. “I’m tired of you and the Wilmington name. How many god damned times do I need to say I’m sorry, Mother? How many apologies do you need? I may have smeared the Wilmington name, but I didn’t ruin it. I didn’t do any more damage than David, or you and Gerald.”

  “Don’t talk about your father that way.”

  “Why? You shouldn’t give a rat’s ass about Gerald. You damn well didn’t when he was alive.”

  Sally gave a full out huff. “Your father and I had an arrangement.”

  “I’m aware,” he said.

  “What we did was private, Asher. We weren’t out parading around town, throwing ourselves into the hands of the law. Your snooping could have ruined everything your father and I worked for.” She approached him with heat in her glare.

  “I don’t consider lying on your back much work, Mother.”

  The slap echoed through the kitchen and threatened to bring water to his eye. When he honed his sights on Sally, her hand was pressed to the tiny dip of her throat between her delicate collar bones. Her eyelids fluttered while she tried to recover from the shock of her actions. He let the moments tick by while she fought tears.

  “Love requires sacrifice. It is not always comfortable or traditional by everyone else’s standards. But, I did everything your father asked me to do.” Her voice quivered. “It takes great love to do those things, Asher; to suffer the humility of being given to those men.”

  “Then pardon me if I don’t want to participate in one of your matchmakings, considering your idea of love.”

  “Your father was well aware of every sacrifice. Duties performed to bring comfort and connections to this family by prestigious esteemed individuals.”

  “Who cheated on their wives,” Asher spat.

  Sally stepped closer, all but getting directly in his face. “What we did, what we built, was a legacy to pass down to you boys. I did everything to ensure you and David would have a better life, a better love than Gerald and I. It was all for you.”

  He surveyed the conviction in her stare and shook his head. “No. Don’t place the burden of a marriage you chose on me. What you and Gerald did was for you. Both of you. Not for me. Certainly not for David.” He pivoted from her to walk off.

  “Our love secured your upbringing.” Her voice shifted him back to her. Sally stood with her thin long-boned hand curled into a fist pressed at the center of her chest.

  “Wrong, Mother. The home I remember was love-less. Void of caring. The expectations of Gerald filled our home; drove David and me out. His prerequisites got David married to one of your perfect picks. Where did it end up?”

  Sally had turned stark white with his words. She shook her head. “No.”

  “Yes, mother. Take a look around. The old Wilmington dynasty is over. Gerald’s legacy has fallen. There is no perfect son to mold into whatever fantasy you and he put together in your minds. This is what’s left now. Me. Josh. You. “ He counted them off with his fingers. “We are the new Wilmingtons.” He straightened himself and marched off a few paces. His mother’s silence indicated he’d struck a cord. He reached the doorway but turned back. “You harp about what I’ve done to bring us down. Your social club’s only concern is about being associated with David’s troubles or my mistakes. It’s time to find new friends, Mother.”

  “No,” she whispered. “You will not rip status from me.”

  “Status?” His brow furrowed. He took an empathetic step her direction. “Will you listen to yourself? David has three more years to his prison sentence. What are you gonna do when he gets out? What do you tell your friends about your perfect son then? You need to stop living in the past with your snob-nosed society and look at what I’ve done. What I am doing. I built Wilmington Estates and Wilmington Weddings from the ground up. I put you through school so you could be a part of it. Gave you the opportunity to use a talent you’ve always had and Gerald ignored. Your weddings are sought after and featured in bride magazines around the country. Together we’ve changed the Wilmington name into something new. Something loved. You don’t even like Garrett.”

  “Judge Garrett,” she corrected.

  “What the fuck ever, Mother. He’s a leach, a user, a god damn property lawyer making his wealth by stealing from rich women.”

  “That’s not true,” she croaked.

  “Really? Are you certain? Because every woman he’s bedded has ended up poorer after leaving him. Check his damned record. You aren’t the only gold digger in these woods.”

  “Asher!” Sally’s body jerked with response to his insult.

  “Wake up, Sally. You can actually work for your comfort and you do a damned good job at it. Don’t you think this judge might only be interested in you because you finally have something worth taking?”

  “We are obligated—”

  “No, Mother.” His interruption ground out with enough force to make Sally clam up. “You are. You’re obligated to ignore happiness. To seek prestige. I won’t live a loveless life with one of your picks. Cyana is an excellent woman.”

  Sally’s brow knit. “Then you should leave her, if you care so much.” Her voice croaked with emotion.

  He straightened and placed both hands on his hips. “Is that what you did for Pops? You left Herman for his own good, so our name wouldn’t smear his?” He shook his head and scrubbed his face with a hand before letting it drop to his side. “If Cyana is my thrill, then what the hell is Herman to you?”

  She sucked in a breath and trembled, unable to look at him. “You couldn’t possibly know how I feel about Herman.”

  “You’re right, but I’d like to find out. And, I won’t let the opinions of other people stand in my way, including yours, Mother.” He took a long breath, satisfied he’d stunned her into silence and scored one for Pops. “I’m going to find Rebecca. She’s not the only one who needs to take a damned walk,” he said before stalking out of the room.

  20

  Asher checked his phone for the third time. The end of Monday was miserable after Sally and Rebecca left the house. Now, Tuesday was shaping up to drag along uneventfully, making Asher wish it was the wedding day. At least then he’d get a glimpse of Cyana.

  Heat from his irritation seemed to hover around him. He’d apologized about Sally’s behavior, but Iona refused his calls. She was polite, asking him to keep communication on a professional level until further notice. Cyana must have been pretty torn up about Sally’s intent to take business from Huffing Kitchen. He shoved the device back in his pocket, wondering, once again, why he hadn’t offered to replace Cyana’s phone.

  Because if I had, she’d have gotten away from me. He shook his head at how well his ingrained selfishness worked. Growing up a rich brat had that side effect. He was well aware of his stubborn quality and leveraged his will well. He’d gotten his hands on his shy beauty, only to have her wounded by the Wilmington obligation to stay picture perfect.

  All the more reason to remain alone. The thought twisted his gut. Sally could be right. With his shaded past, it may not be the best option to have someone as sweet as his little baker associated with him. Damn. Huffin Muffin was a great idea he was certain he could back. Adding her baking skill to the Wilmington services would be a hit in streamlining wedding celebrations.

  He heaved a breath and clamped his jaw. There was more on the line than Cyana. Did he screw up his chance to nab Huffing Kitchen as his seasonal restaurant venture by getting involved with her? She hadn’t made it a mystery why she’d ended up at the Milway. What was he thinking the first time he saw her and discovered she was Mama Huffing’s daughter?

  I’ve gone and done it this time. He gritted his teeth; raked a hand through his hair. His first chance at a restaurant partnership and
he’d screwed it up before he had a chance to make an offer. Herman’s gonna kill me.

  “Senor Wilmington, where would you like the bar?” Miguel yanked him out of his brooding.

  The breeze should have woken him from his fret while he held the door open for Miguel’s crew to unload the rig parked in front of the Milway. Only now did he notice the heavy scent of rain mingled with rose and gardenia.

  He glanced up from the porch where men were marching past him with padded dining chairs and tables, portions of the bar and spools of fabric. The wind had increased with the looming storm, threatening to green up the lawn one last time before the wedding. The large magnolia bushes along the cobblestone drive swayed in the saturated gusts. He blinked and turned to Miguel.

  “Put it next to the kitchen. We’re gonna set it against the wall there and bring it out to the double doors so folks can grab a drink comin’ or going,” he said.

  The increased moisture in the air had the men hustling to get all the items inside ahead of the storm. Memory pinched at the ache in Asher’s chest. His mind wandered back to meeting Cyana, standing in her hoodie while the sprinkles dropped around her. The passion they shared at the lake and in the Colonial room during the heavy rain shunted a wave of yearning through his body and straight to his cock. Damn if he hadn’t replayed the sight of her coming in his head at least fifty times a day. He was addicted. Plain and simple.

  “Vamanos!” One of the men shouted in alarm.

  Asher ripped from his reflections with a curse. He needed a doorstop on all the entryways and exits before the wedding. Mostly, he had to focus on something other than his Cyana. The crew hustled inside with the last of their load. A crack of thunder clapped and lightning ripped across the sky.

  Iona set a bowl of kale and white bean soup in front of Cyana. Her stomach growled from the scent of it through the yoga workout with Mama. The lengthy “Mm” left her throat from the memory of how clean and flavorful Iona’s soups always were.

  “Gotta have a taste of home with the weather out there,” Iona said, setting Mama’s bowl down.

  “Thanks, baby,” Mama said, still engrossed in the laptop.

  “Mama, eat!” Josiah clambered up his high chair.

  Iona rolled him closer to the table and took her seat. She set her phone down and proceeded to blow on spoons of soup before instructing Josiah on how to chew what she shoveled in his mouth.

  “He’s still inclined to swallowing right off, I take it?” Cyana asked.

  “You know our boys have always liked my cookin’,” she said.

  Cyana laughed. “Girl, everybody likes your cookin’.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Mama agreed.

  Iona laughed. “Yep, seems like Asher and Rebecca still want to give Huffing Kitchen a go.”

  “Really?” Cyana asked.

  “I meant to ask you what you did to that boy. He’s been blowin’ up my phone. Girl, we may have to replace yours today at this rate.”

  She shrugged. “Not in the storm.” The memory of his kiss and intensity of his need in the Milway fridge warmed her. The sensation was followed by the heavy dread of not being able to talk with him after Sally’s performance.

  Somewhere, her heart wanted to believe he was different from his mother; someone other than what Sally wanted him to be. But, she could be projecting her desires on his personality because of her feelings. What had she seen in him that could speak differently? A crack of thunder solidified the pending doom of a downpour.

  “Don’t miss the flash floods in the iceberg, do ya?”

  Cyana pointed her spoon. “Iona, Chicago is not an iceberg.”

  Iona smiled and grew quiet a moment to feed Josiah enough bites to keep him calm. “Okay, so what are you gonna do about your white boy?”

  “What do you mean?” Cyana shrugged.

  “Come on, Ce Ce. You’ve not been yourself since leaving the Milway. Don’t try and pretend like you’re not sweet on him.”

  Cyana sighed. “That’s the problem.” She paused long enough to spoon a heaping amount of soup in her mouth. She finished the bite. “It’s so crazy. I knew he’d be trouble the moment I looked him over.”

  “Um-hum, the biceps and the buns. Sucked you right in,” Iona declared.

  Mama laughed, entertained enough by the girl talk to close the computer.

  “I wish it was simple, but…” Cyana shook her head.

  Mama’s brow knit. “What is it, baby?”

  “His eyes, Mama. It was like you said. They were so kind and happy. I tried to think maybe it was because I haven’t paid much attention to the guys around. I’ve never seen that kind of joy in any other man but Eric.”

  “Girl, you just didn’t have any around worth paying attention to,” Iona interjected.

  Cyana nodded before shoveling in another huge bite.

  “You really are fallin’ for this man?” Mama asked.

  “I think it’s too late for falling, Mama,” Iona said.

  Cyana groaned. The Huffing women had become very open about their relationships after Jamal went to jail and left Cyana and Eric with no place to call home. Iona and Mama knew her well enough to read through any defenses she would try to raise. It wasn’t worth an attempt.

  “I’m so scared,” she said. Her level of defeat rushed out in a sigh.

  “Scared? Honey, what do you have to be scared of?” Mama asked.

  “I don’t know. Society. Introducing Eric to any man in my life. Being hurt again, like with Jamal. You heard Iona. He’s violent.”

  “I didn’t finish reading those articles, Ce Ce. Even as fuming mad as Asher was when Sally stepped all over our toes, I didn’t get the impression he would hit. Rebecca watched the entire show with us, as if it was commonplace for those two to go at it.”

  “Well, I don’t expect him to be aggressive towards his mother,” Cyana protested. “Ugh. She makes me so mad I just have to leave if she’s around or I’ll rip her eyes out. I certainly don’t want to be seen as Asher’s,” she placed her spoon down and formed air quotes, “help.”

  “If you really like this man, then none of it matters.” Mama grasped her hand when it settled on the table. “All those family members who disapprove won't be spending time with ya’ll. You won't see them every day. Some may cut themselves out of your life. Trust me, honey. Your daddy and I went through it.”

  “Really mama?” Cyana asked.

  “Oh, yes. Grandma Gertrude hated my guts with a passion.” Mama’s brow knit. She shook her head in true Huffing fashion. “Treated me like old dirt, not fresh dirt. You hear?”

  Cyana gasped. “No, Mama.”

  “I know you girls wouldn’t be able to tell by the way she loved on y’all growing up. But, before you came along, his family had shut your daddy out completely ‘cause of me. Your daddy didn’t like it. Not one bit. Gertrude said she didn’t want nappy heads hanging ‘round, if you know what I mean.”

  “Mama, that doesn’t make any sense. Daddy was half black. Grandma Gertrude had to lay down for a brother at some time.”

  “Yeah, but it was ol’ rich blood. You know. Not some commoners who didn’t know who their ancestors were like me. Your grandpa was old military, too. Brought up on the islands and not born from dirt like my people. Them rich folk don’t see island people as true black no way. Not slave black, ‘cause the Brits own them.”

  “Oh, god. What year is it? Are we still living in the dark ages?” Iona placed her hands on her forehead dramatically.

  Mama chuckled. Cyana was well aware of the bigotry of the south. Closet bigots is what Mama came to call them. They were alive and well all over Dixie. The type of people who thought it was just fine if blacks married into other families, but not theirs. She recalled growing up around daddy’s family. There didn’t appear to be too much bias, but she remembered they tended to dote over Iona a lot more. Cyana figured it may have been a color thing due to Iona’s light skin tone, but she didn’t stop loving her sister because of
how other people acted.

  “How did everything change?” Iona asked.

  “Everything didn’t change, baby, but things did get better as you girls came along. Yo’ father established his house as an environment of love, laughter and acceptance.” Mama squeezed Cyana’s hand before giving it a pat. “And boy, did he ever stick to it. Stuck to it so much, no one in his family could deny the joy having his girls around him brought. It’s hard to look down your nose at real love. Love is wonderful. If you look down your nose at it, then you have an evil heart.” Mama patted her hand. “Now that’s the truth. I know Sally Wilmington may have a hard edge, but I didn’t sense an evil bone in her body. No ma’am.” Mama gave her head a slow shake. “A woman who dotes over those boys as much as she does only has their best interest at heart. Even if it’s misguided and a bit overbearing.”

  Her mother had always read people well. “I don’t know, Mama. Family is so important. I wouldn’t want Asher to sacrifice relationships with his family. It’s crucial to have people who love and support you. It seems like Asher doesn’t have much to gain from being with me.”

  “Then have some fun, sweetie. Asher didn’t ever appear to be the kind of man who didn’t know what he wanted. Seems to me he was always right set on what he got. Since it’s you, I don’t think he’ll let go quietly. Besides, you’ve been without since Eric was born. I’ve been worried about you, locked away from the world with your blinders on only my grandson. I appreciate the good mothering you give him, but it comes at a price to your happiness.”

  She thought about Mama’s statements a moment. “I was lying in the bed at the Milway, and Jamal came back to haunt me. I can’t tell you the last time I thought of that ghost, but,” Cyana shook her head slowly. “I don’t pick men well, Mama. Life is less painful and complicated without them. I’ve learned my lesson. I should stay away and take care of my boy. I want this wedding over so I can go back to Chicago and forget this whole,” she waved her empty spoon around, “thing ever happened.”