“I was the man.”
“And that entire weekend, whenever you introduced me to one of your teammates you’d say my name was Jasmine Kyles.”
“Just practicing.”
“Well if it makes you feel any better, I hate that I wasted so much time liking you. I’d rather have been loving you instead.” He smiles as she leans into him. They both look down at their daughter at the same time. “A marriage is hardly legal without kids,” she whispers to him.
“God, she’s beautiful,” he says.
“Looks just like you.”
“I know. That’s what makes her so beautiful.”
“Oh shut up.” They laugh.
I lower the bouquet of flowers I’m carrying, specifically picked out by Cadence, and back out of the doorway. I place the flowers on the floor by the door. Marlon’s already seen that picture of Jasmine and me. Laura’s already tried to blackmail him with it. But the man can sit here and joke and laugh about his and Jasmine’s past, knowing damn well that I was the man she loved all along. And she hasn’t a clue that he knows. He’s letting her keep her dignity.
I’m in love with this man’s wife.
She just had his baby.
I’m divorced.
I’m in love with my ex-wife.
She’s fucking with some clown named Demetrius Westlake.
Our son is living in our condo with her.
I’m living in Cadence’s condo.
My life is just fucked up.
Just. Fucked. Up.
“You okay?” my father says to me as everyone is walking out of the church.
“Yeah, just thinking.”
“Well I can see that. About what?” I look around and see that Winnie is walking and laughing with Danielle right now. They’re about twenty feet away from my father and me.
“I saw Jasmine last night. We met; we talked.” I whisper as he and I walk out of the church with the rest of the crowd.
“And?” he whispers back.
“We slept together.”
“Shit … and?”
“And here I am again, back at square one. I love her, Pop, that’s all there is to it.” I let out an exhausted breath as my father nods for us to walk off to the side of the church.
“She won’t go running her mouth will she? Tell Winnie about you two meeting?”
“Of course not.” I look around for Jasmine and spot her standing with Marlon, one of those shy looks on her face as she glances up at him through her lashes. “She loves him.” I nod towards Marlon.
“Jake, you’re the nostalgic type. Your head is always in the past. You’ve got to switch that son, you’ve got to think about the here and now. You’ve got to be present; here in the present is where your reality lies,” Dad says he tightens the scarf around his neck. “Because you’re poisoning your marriage with memories.” I close my eyes and nod. “And you’ve already killed your marriage once.” He slaps his hand on the side of my face and holds it there. “Look at me.” I open my eyes. “Don’t do it again. Stop thinking about the past. Those days are over.”
Jasmine
(marlon.)
“Hi pudding,” my dad says while he gives me a hug. After all the worry and phone calls, Nicky’s solo was a success. Now we’re standing outside of St. Michael’s; the Christmas play let out, the cameras are still flashing, and President Rossi is laughing grandly with a reporter. “I would like for you to cast a disparaging look onto your mother,” my father says with contempt. “She’s agreed to take full responsibility for our tardiness.”
“Shut your ass up,” Mom responds while buttoning up her peacoat.
“Mom!” I yell out.
“What, what happened?” She looks around.
“Marlon, I’ve got an extra ticket to the Celtics game,” Dad says as he and Marlon hug.
“Oh yeah, I’m there,” Marlon says.
“Good. I’ll bring the ticket; you bring the girls. I like them forty-five and up.”
“Oh shut your old ass up,” my mom says as she straightens Daddy’s tie. “You smell good.”
“I’ve switched colognes to a more exotic brand,” Dad informs her. “And who are you calling old?”
“Which brand?”
“I forget.”
“You’re not wearing your pearls,” Marlon leans in and whispers to me as my mom and dad start talking to Elise and Jax who just walked up.
“I’m not.” I move closer to him and wrap my arms around him. “They’ve had a good run, don’t you think? Time to retire them?”
“You’ve been wearing them for years now.”
“I think I need a new set. Maybe seven millimeters instead of five?” I wink at him.
“We can head to New York on Monday, go to Mikimoto. Have your grandparents watch the girls overnight.” He scans my face and I breathe in his scent. “Get a suite at The Quin.”
“Champagne?”
“Of course,” He whispers. I watch him look me over. Adrenaline rushes through me.
“You smell good,” I whisper back.
“I switched colognes.” He smiles.
“Which brand?”
“No idea. Something Tiffany smelled when we were walking past Nordstrom.”
“Tiffany’s four years old—you let her pick your cologne out for you?”
“She told me that since you were on vacation from the house, that she was the next one in charge.”
“Ah.” Wow, he looks good in that coat … those shoulders … my God. He moves a lock of hair from out of my face.
“Cold?”
“No. Comfortable.” He nods. “We need to talk.”
“We do.”
“Now?” I ask.
“Why not?”
“Okay. Should I start?”
“Were you cheating on me with him?” I guess he’ll start.
“I was cheating on him with you.”
“How long were you seeing him?”
“Two years before I met you.”
“And afterwards?”
“Until he married Winnie.”
“Which was?”
“Four years.”
“Damn.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
He exhales deeply, nods and looks around. I had been seeing another man the whole time Marlon was in college, while he flew me back and forth to New Orleans. While I sat in the bleachers watching his ball games. While he flew me into Philadelphia to meet his family. While he flew me into Aspen to stay at his parent’s cabin. While he flew me to Jamaica, Cancun, Hawaii and St. Lucia for our spring breaks. While he was telling me that he loved me and we were making love in his dorm, then his apartment, then his condo. While we talked of him moving to Boston to start his career. The entire time we were living our lives as boyfriend and girlfriend, I was seeing Jacob.
“So you loved him? Don’t answer that.” He puts his hand up to stop me. “Doesn’t matter.” He clenches his jaw. “Did you ever love me?” The question nearly knocks me over. “I’ve been wondering that for a while now. Ever since the first time Laura, you know …”
I’m in utter shock right now. For years I’ve been asking the same question about Jacob and Marlon’s been at his office, staring at paperwork, asking the same question about me? Did I somehow make it seem that I still loved Jacob?
“I’m offended.” I look up at him through my lashes.
“Why?”
“Don’t ever ask me if I loved you. That’s an insult.” He nods.
“So, you still got a thing going for him?”
“Why would you ask that?”
“You weren’t returning my calls, just spending your days at your grandparents’ house to see the girls. I didn’t want to argue with them there so I’d just call to speak to you. You’d refuse to get on the phone.” He inhales deeply and then exhales. “I know that I asked you to leave the night the photo was delivered but I called you that same night, apologizing. I was frustrated, Jasmine. All those memories from five years ago
came back and I was thinking that we had so much more to lose now. I don’t know … I shouldn’t have asked you to leave but when I begged you to come back you refused. I just thought that maybe you still had a thing for him and was relieved that I asked you to leave.”
“I was embarrassed about the photo, Marlon.” I brush a hand over his face. “I wasn’t happy that I was asked to leave my home. Trust me.”
“Well, Malcolm says he’ll handle it, let’s hope he does. His reach is a little farther in Boston than mine. If this was Philly, I’d have more control over this.”
“And if he doesn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry about it, Jasmine.”
“Okay.” We silently look at each other, both worrying about it. “I’ll understand if you leave me when the photo gets out.”
“I won’t be leaving you.”
“You may not have a chance to. I just might kill myself.”
“If the picture gets out, we’ll pick up and move to Philly. No big deal. Start over. This won’t make national news so there’s nothing to worry about.” He puts his hands in his coat pockets. God, I wish he’d wrap his arms around me.
“But your business is here. Your clients. Your connections.”
“Don’t worry about that. Let’s just worry about our family.”
“Okay.” Forget it, I won’t wait for him to hold me. I wrap my arms around him tighter and rest my head on his chest. Hug me, Marlon. “So we may be moving to Philly, huh?”
“I just need to make sure you’re comfortable wherever you are. That’s all I’m concerned about. Well, that and the fact that you may be unhappy. For the past few weeks I’ve been thinking that maybe you were bored at home. Or maybe you don’t think I appreciate you enough. Is that it? I always thought this life is what you wanted, but when you acted like you didn’t want to come home, I figured that maybe you didn’t want to be home for a while now.”
“The problem is that I do want to be home but I just feel I don’t get respected for it. Like I get judged for wanting to take care of my home.”
“By who, Jasmine?” I love the way he says my name.
“I don’t know … Danielle, Winnie and Rena and their new little crew.”
“Jasmine, Winnie doesn’t work either. And neither do some of Jacob’s sisters, if that’s the crew you’re talking about. And neither does Judge Carmichael’s wife, the governor’s wife, the First Lady of the United States. They’re not filing taxes but nobody respects them any less. You manage our home; you keep it running. It’s the reason why I’m rushing home from the office every day. I wanna be home. With you. With the girls. Speaking of the girls, you have no idea how much Tiffany and Pearl got on my nerves while you were gone. They kept fighting over this thing or the other. Every time Tiffany picked something up, Pearl wanted it. Then Pearl would run to me and say Tiffany wouldn’t share. I’d have to ignore her because I’ve figured Pearl out. We really need to teach her about taking things from others. And Tiffany, God bless her, she was so frustrated but refused to hit or shove her little sister. So she’d just cuss her out. I tried to sit them down and teach them about being nice to each other and that Martin Luther King would be upset with their behavior. He would have never snatched a turkey sausage out of someone else’s hand. And he would have never cussed somebody out if they snatched it out of his. I reinforced that he was non-violent. So, Tiffany listened to my story and took the non-violent approach to dealing with Pearl; she started gently licking her. This, of course, got under Pearl’s skin more than anything else in the world but what could Tiffany do? So if you see Pearl running around crying, she’s probably been licked.”
“Oh God …”
“I know. It’s been horrible, Jasmine. Come home.” He looks into my eyes. “Whatever we’re about to face, let’s just do it together.”
“Okay.” He leans down and kisses me and I swear I feel a shock fly between our lips. “I’m coming home,” I say against his lips. “That’s where I want to be.”
“And you may want to be prepared for that dinner with the Judge and his wife on Thursday. He told me that Dr. Burgess and his wife are coming too.” Marlon raises an eyebrow at me.
“That sounds like a formal invitation into The Board,” I say with a smile.
“That’s exactly what it sounds like.” He smiles back at me. This is our dream. This is what we’ve been working for.
“I hear you have to answer a two-hundred fifty question black history test and memorize all the verses to ‘Lift Every Voice and Sing’”.
“Piece of cake,” he says with a shrug.
“That’s what I say.” I wink at him. We have a silent exchange of smiles that feels a little school boy-school girlish. “With all the community work that’s involved with The Board I’m going to be, like, so busy.” I roll my eyes and suck my teeth. “I really don’t need the added stress.” I tousle my hair.
“Oh please, you’ll love every minute of it.”
“I will!” I jump up and wrap my arms around his neck. Marlon’s the only person who can pull my card. He laughs as he leans over and gives me a kiss on my forehead.
But he doesn’t hug me.
Jasmine
(to. forgive.)
“Here,” I say as I pass Tiffany a frozen yogurt cone. “Lick this.” She and Pearl start shimmying in the backseat as they get handed their cones. Suddenly they’re the best of friends.
“Sorry about that,” Marlon says as we pull out of Frozen Yogi Shoppe’s parking lot.
“I’m sure it’s just a thing,” I say to him as I turn around and adjust in my seat.
“Yeah.”
I look at him as he cruises down Gate Street towards the Blairs. Shirt, tie, cuff links, tailored coat, wedding ring on his finger. He’s hot, I’ve gotta admit. What makes him more attractive in my eyes is that he’s handsome and he’s a good guy. You don’t find that often these days. Toffee brown skin, 6’3”, solid. That’s him. He’s the kind of guy that you assume is full of himself but when you speak with him you find out that he’s actually full of life. Marlon’s a well-bred Philadelphian: a member of his own city’s black elite and a silver-spooner with a blue-collar work ethic. He grew up in a penthouse suite at the Ritz Carlton with his parents, brother and sister. He attended Catholic prep school, was an escort at debutant balls and ‘summered’ on Martha’s Vineyard, every year. He brings home fresh tulips for the vase in the kitchen window once a week, takes the girls to the park every Wednesday, will suffer through Iron Chef with me, and has even supported my fanciful dreams of writing my own cookbook. He’s perfect … for me.
For a few moments we say nothing as the sounds of Siriusly Sinatra flood through the car. This is the go-to station for us Boston parents who secretly rap along to Slick Rick and Wale on our spare time. And wouldn’t you know “Let It Be Me” by the one and only Roberta Flack comes on.
“Our wedding song,” I say to Marlon with a smile. He nods his head while his eyes stay focused on the road. Yeah, it’s going to take a miracle for him to ever get past me finally admitting to those four years of lying. He’s been going in and out of the ‘making up’ phase and the ‘still mad’ phase ever since we left church. We’re a frozen yogurt eating family so, when Marlon passed by the shop, he made a u-turn so that we could each grab a cone. He was making up. When the yogurt guy asked him what he wanted, he said, ‘Nothing but thanks anyway, it’s too cold to eat frozen yogurt.’ He was still mad. Marlon’s a patient man, sweetly positive and like me, sees the glass always half full. But he’s also a passionate man and a faithful man and just knowing that for four years I was in a deep and seemingly erotic relationship with another man is likely breaking him apart.
I turn and look out the front window, letting the song play out. For the duration of it we sit in silence as the girls smack on their frozen yogurt. Eventually we cruise up to a light as the next jazz song begins to play. This sitting silence
is the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been with Marlon. We’re the energetic, always making small talk, giddy type of couple. We aren’t silent. I’ve got to say something. What should I mention? The weather? Yes. I’ll mention the weather and how it’s so weird that it’s so cold and yet the sun is shining so bright.
“She’ll be over it soon,” Marlon says as he stares out the front window, before I can say a word.
“Who?”
“Tiffany. This is just a thing of hers, that’s all. She probably thinks it’s fun but after a while she’ll realize how dangerous it can become and she’ll get over it. I just hope that she doesn’t have to learn that the hard way. And I hope it doesn’t take much longer for her to learn it. I don’t want her to ruin her relationship with Pearl over something like this. And I know Pearl hates it and she’s pissed off and disgusted but give it a while and she won’t even think about it anymore. It’ll just be one moment in time that she’ll easily be able to compartmentalize so that she won’t throw away Tiffany and their entire relationship because of it … unless Tiffany decides to do it again.”
“She won’t,” I whisper. Shit. My heart races. Jacob won’t tell a soul, will he? No, of course he won’t. He won’t tell a soul. He loves Winnie. He wouldn’t do that to me. He won’t tell a soul. “I’ll make sure of it.” Marlon nods as the light turns green.
And now we’re off to the Blairs.
Jacob won’t tell a soul, will he?
Jasmine
(sisters.)
“It sucks being sisters,” Danielle says to me as we stand in the Blair’s living room—no. I’m sorry, I think Angie called it The Royal Ivory Room. A swarm of people are laughing and clinking glasses around us. There’s the sound of Christmas jazz being played by a live ensemble; namely, “What Child Is This”, a favorite tune of mine.
“It does stink being sisters,” I say back. We smile at each other. “FYI, Tiffany’s taken to licking Pearl now just to annoy her.” I take a sip of my mimosa as she takes a sip of her coffee.
“Ooh, I should hide this cup. Malcolm is a Nazi when it comes to me being under the influence of coffee while pregnant.”
Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) Page 17
