The One I've Waited For

by Mary B. Morrison

  My fingers were covered in blood.

  “Ow!” Pressing against my temple, I cried dialing the person who was always there for me. I placed the call on speaker, and red fingerprints coated my smartphone.

  “Hey, Alexis,” James answered.

  Crying louder, I heaved repeatedly, then pleaded, “Please come take me to the hospital. I think I’m losing our baby.”

  “Hang up and call an ambulance. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “I’m not sure what’s happening. Something doesn’t feel right.” That was true. “Please, James. I need you to come now!” I went to the bathroom, plopped down on the toilet.

  “Babe, we have to go or we’re going to miss the opening,” a woman’s voice resonated in his background.

  James told me, “I’ll be on standby, Alexis. Call me when you’re sure of what’s happening.”

  Bracing my hand on the vanity, I stood. “Don’t bring that bitch with you.”

  Sarcastically, he replied, “That bitch is my fiancée.”

  What the hell? For real? “So you’re marrying my ex-girlfriend and y’all doing this shit while I’m pregnant with your child?”

  “Babe?” Chanel whined.

  “James. Ow! Please!” My voice faded. “You need to tell her this is serious.”

  Calmly, he replied, “Sure, Alexis. Whatever you’d like. You’ve got your money, house, cars. You don’t need us. All you do is manipulate the people who love you.”

  “Babe. Motown,” Chanel said. That bitch was always whining.

  “Tell that ho, ow! To go slide down a different pole!” I shouted, hoping she’d hear me. “I think the baby is . . . !” In part, the pain made me holler.

  Keeping it one hundred, James had been nothing short of fantastic to me. Chanel too. I hated that they were happy and I wasn’t.

  “I’m here for my child, Alexis. Keep me posted. Oh, and thanks for introducing us.”

  Why the fuck he had to say that shit? “Don’t do this to our child. I think the baby is . . . Ow!”

  “We love you too, Alexis. I gotta go. Bye.”

  I cried aloud. “Why? Why me? I can’t do having a baby by myself. I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this.” If James didn’t care about my being in pain, how would he respond to me feeling like I was in labor?

  Life was about choices. Holding on to my phone, I had to get myself to the hospital. I walked to the top of the staircase, looked down. Oh, my, God!

  My inner thighs were red. The stream down my legs to my feet was slimy. Touching my vagina, my fingers were covered in blood. My body swayed back and forth. I gripped the left handrail tight as I could.

  “Lord, please. I’m scared.”

  I took one step. Made it halfway. Stopped.

  Leaning forward, I swayed backward staring down at the remaining stairs. I had to make it on my own. My cell rang. I answered. Faintly, I said, “Help me.”

  Not sure of what was happening to me, my fear escalated.

  “Hey, dude! What’s up?”

  Everything in front of me was blurry as though clouds floated over my pupils. I tried to move my feet. Told myself if I could sit, I could slide down the steps on my butt. Squatting, the sharp pain in my stomach felt like someone had stabbed me.

  Maybe God was punishing me for what I’d done.

  “Hey, dude. You answered by mistake?” he asked.

  It was my brother. I tried to scream, “Help!” I couldn’t hear myself.

  “Dude. I’ma hit you up later.”

  No. God. No. God. I’m sorry.

  Mustering everything inside of me I yelled, “Spencer! Help me!”

  Oh God. Another pain stabbed my belly button. The phone slipped from my right hand, tumbled to the floor below. A throbbing pain in my belly felt like my uterus was trying to escape my body.

  God, forgive me. Please don’t let me . . .

  I reached for the rail to catch my fall.

  As I tumbled in slow motion, every wooden step felt like concrete. Hitting the bottom, I couldn’t move my arms, my legs, or my head.

  “Dude! Dude! Dude! I’m on my way!”

  I prayed, God, please. If one of us has to die, let it be me.

  CHAPTER 38

  Benjamin

  Inspired to do the right thing, I was ready to step it up.

  I stopped at the jeweler on Peachtree Street, picked up the $8,000 amethyst infinity ring with a princess-cut solitaire. “Man, this is beautiful,” I said, imagining how it would look on her finger.

  “She’s a lucky woman,” the jeweler said.

  Truthfully, I said, “I’m the one that’s lucky.”

  In and out the liquor store, a bottle of chilled champagne was on my front seat. Next, I dashed into Lenox Square mall, went to Macy’s, where Gena Lavigne had my package waiting. I purchased a pre-wrapped bottle of perfume that came with a cute tote bag, then headed to the last location on my list of errands.

  “Here you go, Mr. Bannister, two dozen long-stem roses in a crystal vase. I only put a little water so you don’t get your car all wet,” my florist said, then explained what I already knew about how to cut each stem on a slant. “You normally get red but pink is a good switch. Women like nice surprises. Pink signifies love, gratitude, and what all women want, and that’s appreciation. Your wife will enjoy these.”

  No need to pray for her to love me more. I hoped she didn’t kill me when I told her I’d made up my mind.

  Parking in the driveway, I managed to cradle the vase in my right arm. The other items were in the complimentary tote on my shoulder.

  I knocked on the door. “Special delivery.”

  If my lady’s mouth could stretch to her beautiful firm breasts, I was certain the gap would be wide enough for the doorknob to fit. “Happy early anniversary,” I said, kissing her sweet lips.

  Jumping she cried the same as she’d done each time I’d brought her a bouquet. “These are absolutely gorgeous, baby. Thank you. Thank you, Thank you. I love you so much for always thinking about me, baby,” Arizona said, scooping the arrangement out of my arm.

  Following her to the kitchen, I removed the bottle of champagne, left the ring inside the bag. “We have to celebrate.”

  There was a price a smart man paid for his mistress’s consideration. I was giving respect where it was reciprocal.

  “Our anniversary isn’t for another few days. So you’ve made your decision already?”

  Nodding, I told her, “Yes, I have.”

  “So you told her?” she asked.

  I smiled, staring at Arizona. Her deep brown eyes glowed with joy. Her lips were painted a seductive flaming red. She only wore that color at home and for one reason. The second I saw her smile, I knew I was getting my dick sucked real good. The sleeveless mid-thigh dress was tapered to her breasts, waist, and hips. My manhood started rising at the thought of softly licking her body all over.

  The decision I’d made was harder than my dick. There were three more people I had to tell. Soon.

  Your woman, your wife, your family, and your mother come first. Heard that from my father and grandfathers all of my life. They’d told me stories that their father and grandfathers shared with them about the sacredness of fidelity.

  I’d dedicated my marriage to pleasing my wife in and out of bed and she refused to suck my dick even after I begged myself into embarrassment. What about my happiness? Mercedes had been officially relieved of her wifely duties.

  All of them.

  Removing the perfume from the tote, I gave it to Arizona. “It’s not nearly as sweet as you.”

  She cried unraveling the paper, sprayed a little behind each ear. “This is why I love you.”

  I took the gift, placed it on the counter. The tote rested on my shoulder. “You deserve more. This is a new beginning for us.” I braced my hands on her butt, pressed my lips to hers, then I closed my eyes.

  I never wanted to forget this moment.

  “I have to leave for a momen
t but when I get back I’m going to take a nice steamy bubble bath. I want you to oil every part of your sexiness. Put on some jazz and the hottest lingerie you have. I’ll be back shortly.”

  “You don’t have to go home to her right this minute, do you?” she asked, unbuttoning my shirt.

  Leading her to the bedroom, I placed the tote on the dresser. The parting amethyst gift for my wife could wait. I wanted to go but . . . Mercedes wasn’t going anywhere.

  My wife could wait. I let Arizona undress me. Why didn’t my wife pamper me this way? Wasn’t as though she had to do this all the time, but having a wife meant I shouldn’t have to go elsewhere to release myself.

  After I followed Arizona’s command to “Lie down,” she removed my shoes. Let them fall to the floor. She disrobed me, my socks and pants preceding my underwear.

  I covered my dick right before her open mouth reached my head. “I’ve been running all day, baby. I can’t let you do this. I’ma shower first,” I said, torn between sticking to my original plan or letting things unfold naturally. I wanted to penetrate Arizona the second after I’d officially ended my marriage.

  Arizona leaned over, picked up a bottle off her nightstand. Pouring oil into her palms, she massaged from my ankles up to my knees. Her fingers gripped my thighs.

  “Relax. I want to reward you by showing how thankful I am,” she said, climbing on top of me.

  Watching her sexy painted lips, I started salivating at the thought of devouring her plump pussy. Holding her perky breasts, I squeezed her already-hard nipples. She slid her hot, wet pussy juices up and down my shaft.

  “Can we go all the way?” she moaned. “The walls of my vagina feel like they are going to combust, baby.”

  I told myself I deserved this moment. Hell, I was thirty living like an old man with a wife and twins. Would Arizona become like Mercedes if we had a baby together? Women had a way of changing after they got a ring.

  The touch of her nails along my stomach made me close my eyes.

  “Aw, man. That feels amazing. Do it again,” I said, moaning.

  “You think we’re going to be a good married couple?” she asked.

  I stared up at her. The passion between us had grown more intense over the two years we’d been together. My father would be greatly disappointed if he’d overheard that question. Sex with Arizona was undeniably better than being with my wife simply ’cause she’d never denied me.

  “I love you,” escaped my mouth. The first time I’d spoken those three words to my mistress, words that were once reserved exclusively for my wife, I knew I was in trouble.

  “Love you more,” she said. “But you didn’t answer my questions.”

  My dick wanted action that I wasn’t ready for. Rolling her off of me, I answered, “I’m not sure.”

  “I know. You’re legally married and I’m . . .” She paused. Exhaled. Continued, “I don’t know what I am.”

  What if I changed my mind about divorcing my wife and impregnated Arizona? Cumming inside of her wasn’t worth the risk.

  Sliding her tongue from my nipple to my dick, she sucked the head, then glanced up at me. Sucked a few more times, then asked, “Am I your pre-fiancée?”

  My dick felt amazing. I held the nape of her neck. Watching her mouth lower over my shaft, I applied enough pressure to redirect her attention. Right or wrong, cheating or not, Arizona’s head game felt like I’d seen the bright white light people who’d died and came back described. I concentrated on the overwhelming sensation.

  I still had to go handle my unfinished business. The question now was, when would I make it to my other home? Enjoying the moment, I didn’t want to cum too fast.

  “Slurp. Slurp. Slurp,” was all I wanted to hear.

  My legs started trembling. She sucked harder. Faster. Slowed her pace. Sped up. Tapered off.

  Bracing my palms on opposite sides of her head, I yelled, “Ahhhhhh! Shit!”

  I swear I couldn’t hold out any longer. It felt ridiculously amazing. I wanted to pull out but didn’t have the willpower to ask if she was ready for me to unload. My nuts fired three fast squirts, then two more rounds of cum down her throat.

  “Ahhh!” Arizona screamed.

  My wife picked up the tote from the dresser. “What do we have in here?” she said, opening the ring box. Mercedes slid the infinity band on her right ring finger. Her wedding ring was appropriately placed. I liked her loose and wild curls. The blue halter was more Alexis.

  “When you’re done playing house, Benjamin, you have a wife and two children at home. Oh, and don’t ever buy me pink roses.”

  Mercedes took short, quiet steps out of the bedroom. We heard the front door close.

  “Why didn’t you say something to her?” Arizona asked. “That’s my ring!” she said, getting out of bed, then yelled, “Why did you give her a key to my house? Are you crazy?!”

  I pulled her back in. “We must’ve left the door unlocked.”

  “I never leave my door unlocked,” she complained. “I want her arrested.”

  “No one is going to jail. I’ll get you another ring.” I wasn’t spending another eight grand. Mercedes would return the jewelry to its rightful owner. Me.

  “Get me a locksmith first!” Slam! The bathroom door closed. I heard Arizona crying.

  The decision I’d made was no longer harder than my dick.

  Putting on my clothes, I stood on the opposite side of her bathroom door. “I’m going to talk to Mercedes. I’ll be back.”

  “And bring back my ring!” she shouted.

  “No problem” were my last words.

  CHAPTER 39

  Sandara

  A man who’d kept his promise meant the world to me.

  “Sandara, I have an emergency meeting. I won’t be at the courthouse this morning,” Bing said, making my heart drop.

  I stood. Paced in front of a wooden bench in the hallway staring at my phone. First my dad disappointed me all my life. Now the man who had impressed me, said he’d be there for me, couldn’t make it. I wanted to hang up and go home. Maybe his being a no-show was a sign not to trust any man.

  “I switched you to a young, capable attorney. Delvin Brown has done his homework on Blackstone. Call me soon as the judge dismisses the case.”

  It was eight thirty. “Okay” was all I’d said.

  A friendly face approached me extending his hand. “Hi, Sandara. I’m Delvin Brown. Looking forward to representing you.” The deep tone was accompanied by a firm shake as he focused on my eyes.

  “I hear he’s arrived. Gotta go,” Bing said, ending our call.

  Suit. Tan. Shirt. Tan. Shoes. Brown. Skin. Tanned. No tie. Ice blue irises. No mustache, no beard. Full brows. Thick lashes. Black hair long in the front, parted on the left, swooped to the right, shaved in the back.

  “Nice meeting you. And thank you for representing me.” I noticed two piercings, one in each ear but no jewelry.

  Admiring Delvin’s professional attire and demeanor made me feel important. Not because he appeared Italian and black. He was a runway delight.

  Black arrived dressed the best I’d seen him since we’d met on the lawn at a concert at Wolf Creek Amphitheater. I was twenty-one. He was thirty-six. We turnt up—danced, sang, got drunk off of my raspberry vodka. Should’ve enrolled for my sophomore year at Baylor instead of having my first child. Black had said education was a waste of time and money.

  Maybe that was true for some. Not having a degree didn’t keep me from becoming a successful model.

  Blue jeans, hard-sole shoes, and a short-sleeved button-down blue striped shirt. The hairline to his spiked afro was clean as usual. His sideburns connected to a thin line that trailed to his goatee. Black stroked his chin. Stared me up and down. Gave Delvin a, “Hmph,” then told me, “Get ready to break me off that Porsche,” in front of the attorney.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Blackstone. You need to respect my client,” Delvin said with authority.

  Delvin’s posture was ere
ct, shoulders back. He stood about six-two, two inches shorter that Black but Delvin’s demeanor made him appear taller.

  “You’ll find out in a minute, bruh. Don’t let the Sunday school swag fool ya.” Black flipped my bow in my face. “Sandara is my bitch, bitch.”

  Delvin stared at Black without blinking, then said to me, “A forty-year-old wannabe pimp with no job or employment history trying to eat at your expense. This hearing won’t take long. Let’s go inside.”

  “Fuck you, you fake-ass lawyer,” Black lamented.

  “Did I mention limited vocabulary and illegal activities?” Delvin said. Holding the swing door for me, Delvin allowed me to enter the courtroom first.

  “Thanks,” I said. Glancing at the other people, I felt we were overdressed.

  I didn’t see nor did I expect to see Tyrell’s or Ty’s father. They’d threatened to file for child support but once they learned I had legal representation, they went back to being silent dads. Guess they thought the judge might find out they were selling weed.

  Mercedes had told me to wear off-white and nothing revealing. My puffed sleeves tapered above my biceps with a wide band. My buttoned-up blouse had a big pussy bow that drooped. The pencil skirt stopped right above my knees. I wanted to wear my red pumps but put on the beige ones and carried a matching designer clutch purse. I’d smoothed my hair back into a bun. The black-framed glasses were for effect.

  If Black hadn’t filed these papers I would’ve freely shared with him. He could’ve driven the Porsche or the Bentley I was about to upgrade to. I sat in the front row.

  Black squatted next to me. He whispered, “You sho’ you wanna do this?”

  He was the criminal. Not me. Should’ve asked himself that question.

  Scooting over, I didn’t answer him. He moved closer. Delvin glanced at me. I pleaded for help with my eyes, then lowered my head as Black kept calling me a bitch and a whore.

  Remy warned me he’d act an ass. Actually, I thought he’d raise his voice or choke me like he’d done at my apartment.

  “You need to move,” the bailiff told Black.

  My eyes shined as I connected with Delvin. The closed lip curve of my mouth was a sign of relief.