He deleted her message without calling her back and turned on his computer to get to work. He ignored the two women as they haggled over colors. When they had compiled several options, Denise left, but Theresa stayed behind.
“Is everything all right?” she asked. Malik wasn’t acting like himself. He was oddly quiet and much more reserved.
“Everything’s fine,” Malik replied, typing an e-mail.
“And Peyton?” Theresa inquired.
“We’re good.”
“Then your mood must have something to do with your being at odds with Andrew,” Theresa deduced. When Malik glanced up at her, Theresa knew she’d hit her mark. “You should talk to him, Malik.” Theresa came forward and sat in front of him.
“It won’t change anything.”
“But it might make you feel better. I know you don’t like being on the outs with him.”
Theresa was right about that. It had certainly stuck in his craw that they hadn’t seen eye-to-eye on Joe. They’d rarely spoken since their disagreement. Malik would love to be able to talk to Andrew. “And you know why.”
“I do, and I can’t much blame you,” Theresa said. “But don’t let a difference of opinion come between the bond that you and Andrew share. Joe Johnson isn’t worth it. Promise me you will fix this rift.”
“I will.” Malik crossed his heart. That’s why he adored Theresa. She took no prisoners.
“All right, well my job here is done,” she said and left the room.
Peyton arrived to the center later that evening for her weekly Sister-to-Sister session with the young African-American and Latin women in the community. She was a little early because she was hoping to catch Malik before he left, but when she got to his office it was already locked. When did Malik Williams, workaholic that he was, actually leave on time? And was he avoiding her?
Bummed, Peyton proceeded to the lounge, but caught Theresa on her way out. She was putting on her coat and locking up her office when Peyton came forward.
“Peyton, how are you?” Theresa kissed her cheek.
“I’m good,” Peyton replied. “I was just on my way to my Sister-to-Sister meeting.”
“You’re doing such a great job with those girls,” Theresa said. “Several mothers have praised your efforts.”
“Thank you, Theresa. That’s so great to hear.”
Theresa glanced at Malik’s door. “I take it you were looking for Malik?”
“Oh, yes. I thought I’d say hello before the meeting, but it looks like I’ve missed him.”
“He said he needed to leave early to take care of some personal business. It’s a shame you weren’t here earlier, you could have seen some of the paint and carpet samples we picked out.”
“Samples?” Peyton was crushed. She’d thought Malik wanted her help with decorating. She was sure Malik had asked for her assistance. Hadn’t he said he was color-blind?
“Our contractor had some great selections for us to choose from,” Theresa gushed. “Just wait until this place is done. It’s going to be a whole new center. Well, I got to go. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Theresa rushed down the hall, leaving Peyton with the distinct feeling that Malik was giving her the cold shoulder.
After a short train ride, Malik arrived at Dante’s. Dante was seating several customers when he came in. “Hey, Malik,” Dante said, smiling, “you have someone waiting for you.” Dante nodded in the direction of one of the booths where Andrew sat waiting.
“Thanks, Dante.” Malik patted him on the back and walked towards the booth and slid in.
Andrew nodded. “Neutral territory, huh?”
“I thought it was best,” Malik said. Dante’s was a safe haven for him.
“Malik,” Andrew began, “I’m sorry—”
But Malik interrupted him. “I’m sorry too.” He never meant any disrespect to Andrew. He held his mentor in high regard. There was no one he respected more, except maybe Quentin and Dante.
“I’m sorry if you felt I undermined your authority,” Andrew said. “That really wasn’t my intention. I know what Joe Johnson did to you and your mother, and you have every right not to want to accept money from the man. I guess sometimes I get on my moral high horse.”
“Sometimes,” Malik answered.
“So we’re friends again?” Andrew extended his hand.
Malik shook his hand. “We never stopped being friends. As a matter of fact, I’ve needed to talk to someone.”
“Really? What about?”
“Joe. Peyton. Everything.” Malik sighed and lowered his head. He paused. He had to talk to someone. “I…I’ve been having those nightmares again.”
“Like when you were younger?”
Malik nodded. “Seeing Joe again has brought all those old fears and memories bubbling to the surface. And the sad part about it is that I’d like to talk to Peyton, but I can’t. She grew up in a loving home, surrounded by a family that loved her.”
“Why not tell her?” Andrew asked. “I’m sure she’d understand.”
“Because she’d see me as less of a man,” Malik answered honestly. “How can I admit to being abused? How can I admit that my stepfather used me as a punching bag and not become less in her eyes?”
“Malik, you couldn’t control what happened to you. You were a child.”
“I know, I know. But this is different. Peyton is an amazing woman. She’s smart and beautiful and sexy and kind. She deserves a man that can open up himself to her completely, and I’m just not sure that I can do that. I’m damaged goods.” He had so many psychological issues to deal with—much more than the average man she’d encounter.
“That’s not true, Malik. You have a lot to offer,” Andrew replied, “and I think you’re selling Peyton short if you don’t confide in her. Tell her what happened. Didn’t you just say that’s she’s kind and understanding?”
“She is.”
“You and I both have seen her volunteer. She gives of herself so freely to others. What makes you think you’d be any different?”
“I don’t know.” Malik shrugged. Maybe deep down he thought he wasn’t worthy of having a woman like Peyton Sawyer. Maybe on a deeper level, Joe Johnson’s claims that Malik would never be anything, never amount to anything, never be worth anything, caused the words to sink in.
“Trust me, I’m right.” Andrew smiled. “You’ll see.”
After her meeting was over, Peyton called Malik on his cell phone and this time he answered. “Hey, stranger,” Peyton said, trying to sound nonchalant.
“Hey, baby,” Malik replied.
“Are you at home?” Peyton queried. “I was leaving the center and thought, since I was in neighborhood, I’d stop by.”
“No, I’m not, but I’ll be there in about five minutes.” Malik was just exiting the subway station and walking down the block to his brownstone.
“All right, I’ll see you in a few.” Peyton hung up. She said goodbye to the security guard and headed out the door. She just hoped that when she arrived things would be back to normal between the two of them.
Malik opened a bottle of wine. The wine was to help him relax so he’d appear mellow by the time Peyton arrived. He wasn’t nearly there yet, when she rang his doorbell. When he opened the door he found Peyton smiling.
“Hi.” Peyton came inside and started removing her wool jacket. Although she was angry with him, even in jeans and a cashmere sweater he could still stir her senses.
“Here, let me help you with that.” Malik eased the coat off her shoulders with one hand while holding the wine goblet in the other.
“Do you have another one of those?” Peyton asked. It had been a long day and she could sure use a glass.
“I sure do,” Malik said, “but first…” He circled his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.
When they parted, Peyton sensed Malik was putting forth a good effort to appear like all was normal, so she played along. She f
ollowed him down the hall to the kitchen, where he took a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and poured her a glass. “Here you are, my dear.”
Peyton accepted the wine and drank deeply. She hopped onto a bar stool at the breakfast nook and stared at Malik. He obviously wasn’t going to address the fact that he’d left Saturday morning without saying goodbye, nor returned any of her calls. “I told you my parents were coming, right?”
“Oh, yeah,” Malik said, leaning against the stove. “I remember you mentioning it.” He wasn’t ready to meet her parents yet, but Peyton was so excited he didn’t have the heart to tell her no.
“They’ll be staying in my guest room,” Peyton said. “So unfortunately, there won’t be any sleepovers while they’re here.”
“I understand.” Malik nodded. “I would never disrespect you in front of your parents.”
“Oh, okay.” Peyton laughed derisively and sipped her wine. “I’m glad to see you won’t miss me.”
“Of course I’ll miss you.” Malik walked over to the bar and stood between her legs. “I’m just honoring your request.”
“Right,” Peyton said, nodding. He was probably looking forward to some distance.
“C’mon, let’s go listen to some jazz.” Malik pulled her off the stool and towards the living room. “I got this great CD from this guy off the street.”
Peyton laughed. Malik was always supporting the underdog. She just wished he showed the same support to their relationship.
They spent the remainder of the evening lounging on the couch before retiring to bed. She would have to get up and run home and change in the morning before her afternoon class. She’d just wanted to try to connect with Malik and see if he’d open up.
After brushing her teeth with the spare toothbrush she kept as his apartment, and washing her face, Peyton climbed into bed wearing one of Malik’s old T-shirts. He held open the covers so she could slide in under the cool sheets next to his warm body. Her bottom nestled comfortably against his groin, but despite how good it felt, Peyton was still bothered by Malik’s odd behavior and decided to confront him.
She turned over and Malik’s dark brown eyes focused on hers in the shadows. “Why did you leave so early on Saturday without saying goodbye?”
“I had a lot of errands to run.”
Plausible excuse. “You didn’t return my calls today.”
“It was busy at the center. It was one crisis after another. Are you upset with me?” Tension ebbed and flowed off Peyton’s entire body.
“Yes, I am,” Peyton said, leaning over and turning on the nightstand lamp. “You ignored me. I don’t appreciate it.”
“I’m sorry, Peyton. I had a long day. Can’t we just go to sleep?” Malik asked.
“No, we can’t.” Peyton didn’t like his exasperated tone, and she sat upright. Malik followed suit. “Because there’s more to it than that. There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“There’s nothing going on.”
“Good heavens, Malik!” Peyton jumped off the bed and spun around to face him. “You’re lying. Why do you continue to leave me in the dark? Why won’t you let me in? Why won’t you let me into your life?”
Tears welled up in Peyton’s eyes. “If you’re having a bad day I want to know about it. If something or someone has upset, you can talk to me. I want to help make it right for you. Don’t you know that you don’t have to go through life alone anymore? I’m here for you, and not just with my body.”
Malik hung his head low. “I’m sorry, Peyton. I’m trying. I’ve never been in a relationship before, so this is all new to me.”
Peyton came over to his side of the bed and kneeled in front of him. “At some point, you have to take a risk. Don’t you think it’s time for you to finally let someone inside here?” She pointed to his heart.
Malik shrugged and Peyton could see the wall around his heart shutting her out. “Maybe you want more than I can give.”
Peyton sighed. “Fine, then I’m going to go home.” Peyton rose to her feet. She loved him, but she wasn’t sure he was capable of reciprocating that love, and it broke her heart.
“What are you talking about?” Malik said with some panic. “It’s late. Come back to bed, Peyton.”
Peyton shook her head. She would like nothing better than to fall asleep with Malik’s arms wrapped around her—but at what cost? She had her own heart to look out for. “Not tonight.” She went to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door behind her. She turned on the running water to block out the sound of her crying.
Peyton emerged fully dressed fifteen minutes later and found Malik sitting on the edge of the bed, having another glass of wine. “I called a cab,” he said.
“Thanks.” Peyton headed to the foyer to gather her belongings. She was putting on her coat when she heard Malik walking up behind her barefoot, and she spun around.
“Peyton, I think you’re an incredibly smart, sexy woman.”
“Why do I have a feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming in there somewhere?” Peyton asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Malik sighed. “I think we need to take a break.”
“You don’t want to see me anymore?” Peyton felt as if a knife had just been sunk into her heart.
“Peyton…things are just moving too fast.”
Peyton shook her head, and despite her best efforts, a single tear escaped from her eyelids. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Why was he doing this? Had she really been so far off the mark? Why couldn’t he let her in his heart?
“Peyton, please say something,” Malik begged.
A horn honked outside. Walking over to the window, Peyton pulled the silk curtains back and saw a taxi waiting on the street. “The cab’s here.”
“Call me when you get home, please?” Malik said, gulping the last bit of wine.
Peyton nodded, grabbed her satchel and unlocked the door, but something held her back. She turned and stared deep into Malik’s eyes, hoping he’d beg her to stay, beg her not to walk out the door. But he didn’t, and so she quietly closed the door behind her.
As he watched the taxi pull away, Malik realized that he was letting the best thing that had happened to him slip through his fingers because he wasn’t capable of getting close to anyone. Had Joe Johnson damaged him from ever loving and being loved by another person? Malik threw the empty wineglass across the room and it smashed into the fireplace, shattering into tiny little pieces.
Chapter 13
“I feel like a fool,” Peyton told Amber as she sobbed on her couch the following evening. They were in their pajamas and had already finished off a small cheese pizza and half a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. “I bought his save-the-world routine, hook, line and sinker.” She’d fallen hard for Malik. A man who didn’t want her love. Was she really so desperate for comfort and affection after David’s death that she had fallen for the first man that had shown any interest in her?
Amber handed Peyton another Kleenex so Peyton could blow her nose. “I warned you about trying to save wounded birds.”
“Thanks a lot, Amber.”
“No, seriously. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Peyton. What makes you so unique is your ability to open up your heart and give so freely. You’re not as closed off as the rest of us. You’re kind and giving, and if Malik Williams can’t see that, then it’s his loss.”
“Well said,” Peyton said, sniffling.
“Give it time,” Amber said. “He isn’t the only fish in the sea.”
“But he’s the only fish I want,” Peyton sobbed.
Amber laughed. “Oh, how I love you, Peyton.” She pulled her best friend into a hug. “And I will get you through this. Scouts honor.” She crossed her fingers over her heart.
“Q, what are you doing here?” Malik asked when Quentin stopped by the center at midweek and found him, along with most of the administrative team, in a temporary office setup in the gymnasium.
“Dante told me you were down and
out the last couple of days, so I thought I’d come and check on you—see how things were coming along with the renovation,” Quentin replied, stepping over the extension cords that were running along the floor to the outlets. “Miss Theresa.” He passed by the older woman who was on the phone and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Theresa smiled back at him.
“As you can see,” Malik said, motioning around the room, “we’ve been displaced. They’ve already started painting the administrative offices, but we had to keep Loretta up front.”
“When will they be done?” Quentin asked. “And do they need any help?” Quentin was willing to pitch in if it meant the crew would get done quicker.
“No, no, no, they’re fine. Richard’s hired the best. And the contractor assembled a fine team of painters. The painters have already done the first coat and are working on the second, which should be done by the end of the day.”
“What about the floors?” Quentin asked, sitting down on the last step of the gymnasium bleachers. The entire reception and administrative office floors were ripped up.
“The carpet and tile will be done over the weekend. And then they’ll touch up painting, once we’re all moved back in.”
“Sounds like everything is going swimmingly,” Quentin replied, rubbing his goatee.
Malik wished he could say the same about every facet of his life. He hadn’t spoken with Peyton since she’d left his apartment in the middle of the night. Half a dozen times he’d picked up the phone to call her, but what could he say? She wanted more than he could give.
“And Peyton?” Quentin asked.
Malik rose from his seat and climbed up to the top of the bleachers to keep people from listening to his private business. Quentin followed and sat down next to him.
“Did you guys have a fight?” Quentin queried.
“We’re taking a break,” Malik replied. “Peyton’s been pressuring me into talking about my past, and then wanting me to meet her folks. And she accused me of not letting her in, of being closed off emotionally.”
This Time for Real Page 13
