Love Takes Time

by Adrianne Byrd

  Quentin lowered his hand and tried his best to smile. “You know me too well.”

  His cousin shrugged and leaned back in his chair, but he still waited for his answer.

  “Maybe it was my pride,” Quentin confessed. “At least at first. I mean she’s beautiful and is literally splashed over every major magazine.”

  “So she was a conquest?”

  “Yes—no.” Quentin thought it over. “I’m not sure. I just know that I can’t get her out my head.”

  Xavier sipped his drink. “So what did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I just went on about my life. Did what my daddy told me. I married Elizabeth. Not Lizzy or Liz or even Beth.” He smirked at his cousin. “She hated nicknames.”

  Xavier laughed heartily. “I remember the marriage. I was invited to the wedding. Remember? Course, I was surprised it lasted as long as it did. Six months is nothing to sneeze at.”

  “I thought so.”

  “It was pretty funny…at least on my end. My brother thought you wouldn’t last past the honeymoon.”

  Quentin chuckled. “I almost didn’t.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Well, at the hotel, there was this one chick—”

  “You know what? I don’t even want to know.”

  Xavier laughed, tossing up his hands. “You might want to look into therapy.”

  “All right. I admit it. It’s not easy for me to be faithful to one woman.”

  “Then why stress over this Alyssa. By all accounts, it would have ended the same way as all the others.”

  Quentin fell silent. He brooded.

  “Okay,” Xavier said, seeing that angle wasn’t getting him anywhere. “Your divorce was years ago. Why didn’t you just look Alyssa up?”

  “I did…eventually. But by that time, someone had beaten me to the punch—my overprotective brother, Sterling.”

  Chapter 13

  Three years ago…

  Sterling couldn’t remember the last time he was sick. It might have been as far back as elementary school. That wasn’t the case today. Today he felt like he’d been run over by a Mack truck. His head ached, his eyes watered, his throat felt scratchy, and he coughed so much he was sure everything would be all right once he finally coughed up his pesky lungs.

  More importantly, he just wished that someone would take him out of his misery. Buried beneath a mountain of blankets, while a humidifier filled the room with Vicks VapoRub, Sterling thought that he had finally found the perfect spot in the king-size bed where he could drift off into a nice NyQuil coma when his phone rang.

  Groaning in agony, Sterling tossed a pillow over his head and tried to block out the world. “Leeeave meee aalooone,” he whined.

  Whoever it was wouldn’t leave him alone. They would just hang up and call back instead of leaving a message on the answer machine. Finally to prevent himself from going insane, he shot out an arm and snatched up the phone.

  “Whaaat?”

  “Sterling?” Toni questioned. “My God you sound awful.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “What do you want?” He wasn’t interested in being cordial and at this moment, he just wanted to hurry and get off the phone and return to his deep sleep.

  “I forgot the code to the gate.”

  He frowned. “You’re here?”

  “Yes. It’s me and the kids, we brought you some soup.”

  The kids. They were the ones who’d gotten him sick in the first place. He was on the verge of telling her to go away when the idea of soup caused his stomach to rumble. But wouldn’t that mean he would have to get out of bed? Frankly, he’d rather starve than move. “I don’t know, Toni. I really am feeling kind of beat.”

  “Which is why you need someone to take care of you.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “C’mon, Sterling. It’s freezing out here. Buzz us in.”

  “All right. All right,” he said after another series of groans. He punched in the code for the gate and then tried to hang up the phone, but after several failed attempts, he just dropped the handset and let it dangle by the cord attached to the phone on the nightstand. He told himself to get up, but damned if he could manage it. His limbs had to weigh at least a thousand pounds.

  He started drifting back off to sleep when he heard the sounds of children bursting into the house.

  “Uncle Sterling! Uncle Sterling!” Kerry’s voice screeched down the hallway.

  “Where are you? Uncle Sterling?” Denzel called. The sound of his little feet racing against the hardwood floor did elicit a weak smile.

  In the next second his bedroom door burst open and Kerry announced, “He’s in here!”

  Sterling pried open his eyes just as Toni entered the room and flipped on the light switch. It was like a million daggers stabbing the back of his eyes. He squeezed them shut again and moaned, “Cut it off. Please. Cut it off.” He grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his head.

  Kerry launched up on the four-poster bed. Her bony knees stabbed him in his sides.

  “Oof.”

  “Uncle Sterling, what’s wrong?” she asked, prying the pillow away and slapping her hand against his forehead. “Momma, he’s hot.”

  “I want up,” Denzel complained.

  “Here. I got you,” Kerry said, grabbing his arm and tugging him onto the bed.

  Now it was his nephew’s turn to start crawling all over him like he was a human jungle gym.

  “Oh, Lord. You guys are killing me,” Sterling mumbled. But the kids paid no heed to his protest.

  Denzel reached up and lifted his uncle’s right eyelid with his finger. “Are you trying to sleep, Uncle Sterling?”

  “I was.”

  “Kids, please leave your uncle alone. He doesn’t feel well,” Toni said.

  The delicious scent of chicken noodle soup wafted through the bedroom and Sterling’s stomach growled.

  Kerry and Denzel erupted into giggles.

  “How did you do that?” Denzel asked, dropping his ear against Sterling’s belly, and waited for a second growl.

  “Goodness. How long have you been in here like this? That Vicks stuff is singeing my nose,” she complained. She also pressed her hand against his forehead. “You are burning up.”

  “Just go away and leave me here to die in peace.”

  She laughed. “Talk about being a big baby. You and Jonas have that in common when you’re sick.”

  “Where’s my pillow?”

  “Kids, climb down. Kerry, go in the kitchen and see if there’s some orange juice in the refrigerator and pour your uncle a glass.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said, jumping off the bed, and racing out of the room.

  “Why don’t you feel good, Uncle Sterling?” Denzel inquired. “Here. Take Mr. Wiggles. He’ll make you feel better.” He shoved his tattered teddy bear under Sterling’s arm. “He always makes me feel better, doesn’t he, momma?”

  “That’s right, baby.” Toni kissed her son’s cheek. “C’mon, Sterling. Sit up. I want you eat some of this soup.” She shut off the humidifier and then glanced around. “Where do you keep your serving trays?”

  He huffed and tried to think. “In the kitchen.”

  “Denzel, go tell your sister to bring me a serving tray.”

  “Yes, momma.”

  Toni helped him down from the bed and then watched him race out of the room.

  “Kerry!”

  “Denzel! No yelling,” Toni shouted after him.

  Sterling’s head exploded. Were they there to help him or kill him?

  “Do you have a thermometer?” she asked, busying herself around the room.

  “Bathroom, medicine cabinet.”

  She headed to the bathroom, tsking under her breath. “Why didn’t you call and tell me that you were sick?”

  “Really. It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said, trying to pull himself up. “It’s just a cold.”

  “Humph!” She walked back into the room. “You look
like death warmed over.”

  “You know you shouldn’t try so hard to make me feel better.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” She smiled. “Now open your mouth.”

  He complied and she shoved the thermometer under his tongue.

  “Now, see. This is why you need a woman around. You need someone to take care of you when your Superman suit is in the cleaners. It’s okay to admit you need someone. Trust me. I had to learn the hard way.”

  “We’re not back on that are we?”

  “Of course we are. It’s waaay past time for you to settle down.”

  He shook his head. “I swear you are sounding more and more like my mother.”

  “Well, have you thought that maybe your mother is right?”

  Sterling rolled his eyes.

  “I mean I don’t understand why you’re still single. You’re handsome, rich, kind. Women should be throwing themselves at you.” She cocked her head. “Maybe they are and you’re just not noticing them?”

  “Relationships are complicated,” he said.

  “But rewarding,” she countered. “Trust me. I used to put up a lot of roadblocks myself back in the day.” As if suddenly remembering their brief relationship, she felt her gaze jump up to his, and the room filled with an awkward tension.

  They were saved by the beeping thermometer.

  “My gosh. You’re really burning up.”

  “I wanna carry it,” Denzel whined out in the hallway.

  “Here,” Kerry said. “But don’t spill it.”

  “I won’t.” And then a second later. “Ooops.”

  Toni rolled her eyes. “Sounds like I have another mess to clean up.”

  A few minutes later, Toni had Sterling propped up in bed with his breakfast tray and a hot steaming bowl of soup and half a glass of orange juice. At his side, his niece and nephew argued over the TV remote while Toni scampered around picking up.

  “I wanna have it.”

  “No.”

  “Uncle Sterliiinng…”

  “It’s okay, Kerry. Let him have it.”

  None too happy, she let her brother take the remote and switch the channel from her much-beloved Disney Channel. Now they had to endure Denzel going from one channel to another at warp speed.

  Sterling really didn’t care. The soup was hitting the right spot as far as he was concerned and he couldn’t stop from moaning with every spoonful. Absently, he glanced up at the TV and caught sight of a familiar face.

  “Whoa. Whoa. Go back. Go back.”

  Denzel looked confused with the order.

  Sterling reached over and gently claimed the remote and flipped back a couple of channels. He landed on a talk show and a smile spread across his face. “Well, I’ll be.”

  Alyssa Jansen smiled broadly back at him through the television screen.

  “Ooh. She’s pretty,” Kerry said, plopping on her belly and cradling her head with her hands. “I like her hair.”

  “So,” the television hostess asked, “do you have any advice to the young women out there that might want to get into the modeling business?”

  Alyssa’s luminous smile sparkled. “Well, first I would suggest the young ladies think really long and hard about it. It’s harder than it looks. Then if it’s something that you really want to do then the name of the game is to get with a good reputable modeling agency.”

  “I have a juicy question I’d like to ask,” the pert hostess said.

  Alyssa shifted in her chair, but her smile remained.

  “With being one of the most sought-after models in the industry right now, do you have anyone special in your life?”

  An adorable blush crept into Alyssa’s face and Sterling found himself smiling at the television screen.

  “C’mon, girl. You can tell us,” the hostess coerced in her best sister-girl persona. “We won’t tell nobody, right?”

  Everyone in the audience cheered.

  The camera cut back to Alyssa whose embarrassment grew by leaps and bounds. “There’s…someone,” she admitted.

  “Oooh,” the audience chimed in unison and then broke out into a round of applause.

  “Can I watch Disney now?” Kerry asked.

  “Sure.” Sterling handed her the remote, but his mind remained on Alyssa. Whoever she was seeing, he was one lucky son of a bitch.

  Chapter 14

  “I can’t believe you lied on national TV,” Tangie laughed, following Alyssa through the door of her swanky Malibu home. In the past few years, the dynamics of the best friend’s relationship had changed. Tangie had gone from being her assistant to being her agent.

  “What—you thought I was going to tell the whole world that I haven’t so much as been on a date in ten months?” Alyssa laughed. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “Well whose fault is that?” Tangie harped. “I’ve been telling you not to take every job offered for a while now.”

  “That’s because you don’t see the big picture,” she said. “These jobs are what’s going to help launch my new clothing line next year. The more money I put into it and not the investors, the more control I have.”

  “And when will you have time to promote the perfume line?”

  “Don’t worry, boss. I have it all under control,” she said, heading into the kitchen. “Just call me Superwoman.”

  Tangie settled a hand against her waist. “All right, Superwoman, where’s your man at?”

  “Fine. You made your point.” Alyssa pulled open the refrigerator and removed a prepared meal left by her nutritionist that would undoubtedly have about the same amount of flavor as it had calories. “So what do you suggest I do, Dr. Love? You’re the one with the ring on her finger. How do I go about finding Mr. Right?”

  “Well, he certainly isn’t going to just pop up and ring your doorbell,” she chastised.

  The doorbell rang.

  The women glanced at each other with a “who’s that?” look.

  It turned out to be the UPS man. While Alyssa signed for her delivery, she and Tangie exchanged bemused looks.

  “So,” Tangie said, crossing her arms, “how long have you been a deliveryman?”

  The driver, who couldn’t take his eyes off Alyssa, puffed out his chest. “Four years.”

  “Thank you,” Alyssa said, handing back his electronic pad and then gently closing the door in his face.

  “See? That’s why you can’t get a man.”

  “He had a wedding band on.”

  “But is he happy?”

  Alyssa’s head rocked back with laughter. “Girl, you ain’t right.” She marched back to the kitchen.

  “Don’t underestimate married men. They’re the only ones up in the club acting like everything is everything.”

  “What is your married butt doing up in the club?”

  “See what I mean?”

  “If that’s what you and Craig call a marriage, then no thank you.”

  “I give up,” Tangie said, tossing up her hands and then retrieving a bottle of wine. “Want some?”

  “Sure. Why not?” She picked through her cold bean and alfalfa concoction. She sat quiet for a moment. Except when Tangie came over, her house was always quiet. In her head she remembered the time when she seriously considered going after Quentin when she knew that he was heading toward the altar. It had been a moment of weakness. After all, Quentin had been a childhood fantasy and it was like dangling a carrot before a starving rabbit. “Maybe I should get a dog or something?”

  “A dog is nice.” Tangela poured their wine. “But it’s not a man.”

  “Dog, man. Man, dog.” Alyssa shrugged, smiling. “What’s the difference?”

  “If you don’t know, then you’re worse off than I thought.”

  Alyssa just smiled sheepishly.

  “The problem is that you’re too picky. This one is too tall. That one is too short. This guy lives with his mother and that guy looks in the mirror too much.”

  “A woman should never compete with a
man hogging a mirror.”

  “Have you forgotten where you live? Ninety percent of the men are either models or actors or want to be both.”

  “And I don’t want to have anything to do with any of them.” She frowned and took a bite of her food. “I want a regular Joe. I don’t think I could ever be with someone in this business. I can see myself with a regular pencil pusher.”

  “Numbers and spreadsheets, huh?”

  “Maybe a lawyer.”

  “There’re lawyers here.”

  “There’re slimeballs here,” Alyssa corrected.

  “That’s what I said.”

  Alyssa shoved more alfalfa sprouts into her mouth. “I know one thing. Once I make the transition from supermodel to businesswoman, I’m going to start eating real food. People are going to do those ‘Where are they now’ searches and see me looking as big as a house.”

  Tangie laughed.

  “I’m serious. Do you know how long it’s been since I had fried chicken, macaroni and cheese—hell, peach cobbler.” She groaned and collapsed against the counter; her eyes rolled back.

  “You could cheat every once in a while.”

  Alyssa sat up. “Can’t. One slip and I’m afraid I’m a goner. And visiting my dad is just like slow torture. He always cooks enough food to feed the entire state of Georgia. And then I’m standing there like an idiot chomping on carrots or celery while everything smells wonderful. Once, I did sneak a butter roll and I swear I had an orgasm.”

  “That is so sad. And I’m going to put that in my TMI file, if you don’t mind.”

  “The bottom line is there’s something to retiring on top in this industry. Cindy Crawford did it, Iman, Tyra Banks.”

  “Whatever, girl. I guess that means that I better pump up my list if I’m going to be losing my top client.”

  “Yep. I’m going to be a regular businesswoman and soccer mom.”

  “You keep skipping steps. You have to be a wife before becoming a soccer mom.”

  “We keep coming back to that, huh?”

  “Afraid so.”

  She sighed. “Dating would be a lot easier if men weren’t allowed to talk.”

  “Amen.” Tangie lifted her glass for an impromptu toast.