The Rhyme of Love (Love in Rhythm & Blues Book 2)

by Love Belvin

  She stood when I arrived, Laura’s frame seemed smaller than I remembered. When she pulled me into a firm embrace, she damn sure felt tinier than I ever considered of her.

  “Gosh, I’m so glad to finally see you, kiddo!” She pushed me back, holding me at the arms. “You look so…glammed. You’ve lost a lot of weight—not that you were overweight, in my opinion!” she motioned for me to sit on the bench. Laura couldn’t kill her beam. “You look amazing, Wynter.”

  “Thanks, Laura.” I smiled as my eyes roved all over. “Who would’ve thought of this big ass park?”

  Her shoulders lifted as she laughed. “Me!” she waved her hand with her brows elevated, then bit her bottom lip.

  “And who in the hell knew you lived in Sparta?” My head bounced back, expressing shock.

  When I shot her a text yesterday, telling her today would be a good day to meet, I was blown away when she told me she, too, lived in Sparta.

  Unable to stop smiling, she nodded. “My grandfather built our colonial just a few years before my mother was born. It’s been in our family ever since. Small, but paid off.” She nudged me with her arm affectionately. “And thank goodness, considering I’m a public servant.”

  I laughed. “Oh, whatever, Laura. You know you make that bank.”

  “Blah.” She shrugged. “It’s all a matter of perception.” I offered a dry grin. “Listen, I’ve been trying to reach out to you for months now.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I sighed. “I’m sorry about that. It’s been a damn rollercoaster ride since the day I quit. Stuff that’s too vivid for books.”

  “Maybe a romance novel.” She smiled brightly and nudged me again.

  The more I considered it, I’d never seen my former supervisor so damn giddy. We’d always been cordial. She was pleasant to me, even mentored me greatly. But the nature of our job left no room for pleasantries around the watercooler. So, here was a side to Laura I never knew.

  I took a deep breath. “Romance novel,” I exhaled, tossing my eyes at the kid with burnt orange hair swinging from bar to bar.

  “Well, that and that manager of your husband’s. I’m sorry for his loss, by the way.”

  “You know about that?”

  Laura blushed as her head nodded profusely. “Sweetheart, it’s been prime news. Murdered by a West Coast music executive? Please.” She scoffed.

  If that’s what they wanted to call True Blue. I thought he was nothing but a gangster in the industry, even more so than Mike Brown. But the detectives finally gathered enough evidence to arrest True two nights ago. Raj had been getting calls left and right and so had his publicist. People wanted his reaction to the news.

  I nodded. “That’s been a small part of it, but yeah.”

  “I think Ragee’s cute.” That beam broadened again.

  I dropped my head to the side. “Laura, you checking for my husband?”

  She fell into a laughing fit, her torso flying back. “Oh, my! Could you imagine?”

  No, I couldn’t… I shook my head, looking around.

  “Well, anyway. Congratulations. I’m so happy for you. I didn’t know you were dating, much less a celebrity. But I was glad to learn you found happiness outside of work. You were my best counselor, Wynter.”

  With a sincere, but crooked smile, I thanked her. “I appreciate that, Laura. The work challenged me. Brought out the good and the bad.”

  “Do you miss it?”

  I shook my head. “I would say I miss the challenge I was presented with by each client, but to be honest, I think I’m up against the biggest one of my life.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yup. And I have a feeling it’s going to keep me busy for a long while.”

  “Well, marriage can do that to you.” She sighed. “Heck, it should. It’s that one baby that never ages out. The one you have to protect, love, nurture, have patience with, and fight for until…” I looked at her to complete the thought. Laura’s sapphires were cast into the distance. “Just until.” She shrugged. “You know?” We locked eyes.

  “How long have you been married?”

  She laughed. “For as long as I can remember.” I found that funny, too. “Twenty-seven years, and it’s been quite a ride.”

  “College sweetheart?”

  “Nooooooo…” she growled. “Absolutely not. Dan was met on the job.” Her smile turned desolate. “And happiness hasn’t consistently progressed with the years, but our strength together has.”

  “That sounds glum.” I chuckled nervously.

  Raj and I may have still been fake, but legal man and wife; however, it was clear we’d be together…as lovers and friends, indefinitely. I needed encouragement, not another sad love song.

  “You know…” she trilled, “it kind of isn’t. It’s sort of a naked honesty after you’ve shaken off your ideas of marriage. You’re what…twenty-seven?”

  “Twenty-nine.”

  “Okay. Twenty-nine. What you’ve brought to your marriage are all the perceptions, beliefs, and expectations of marriage you accumulated since you were able to appreciate the tradition of it. I don’t know much about Ragee, but I imagine he’s your age—”

  “Older.” My thumb pointed toward the sky as I made a silly expression. “Way older.”

  “Okay.” Her head bounced from side to side. “That makes my point even that much more sound. He’s bringing the same thing: All of those ideas and views of marriage. Was he raised by two parents…one? Did he see healthy marriages…was divorce seen in his upbringing? Monogamy? Religion, childhood trauma, family dynamic—the whole gamut. All of those factors plant seeds in our minds, so when we decide to get married, they’ve taken root and come alive in how we conduct ourselves in the marriage.”

  I slid my hands in the pockets of my jacket, slightly chilled. But she had my attention now.

  “The definition of happiness is skewed at that point. So now your partner is up against all of these false expectations, which are negative forces. It impacts your commitment to your partner and weakens the vows you made to each other.” Laura’s eyes were as clear as the waters I’d just left in the Caribbean, and so was her theory. “It impedes your perception of happiness, but if you stick in there…serve the vows, your bond as man and wife will strengthen. Sometimes strength, not perceived happiness, can get you through a stormy night.”

  Silence rested over us for a minute. Her words echoing in my mind.

  “What if you go in knowing you have your work cut out for you? What if”—I lowered my voice—“you knew your spouse had demons that couldn’t be slayed overnight, possibly in a lifetime, if he didn’t use the right tool?”

  Her eyes swung into the distance at an ice cream cart making its way up the curvy walkway. “Depends. What kind of demons are we talking?”

  I wasn’t quick to reply. Raj’s business wasn’t mine to tell. But I also understood a part of Laura’s life experience. We were numb to judgment when it came to Raj’s predicament.

  I cleared my throat as my eyes skirted around. “Childhood trauma.”

  That could have been a number of things.

  “Then I’d be the tool.”

  My eyes hit her in enough time to see hers land on me.

  I let out a labored breath. “But why? Who would choose that as their forever? You know what those cases can turn into. You know how ugly it can get. How unforgiving it can become if not properly addressed.”

  “You know what counseling is?”

  I shook my head. “Help?”

  “A tool. All counseling is, is a method used to identify a problem or problems, and in many cases, conquer it. You have those skills.” Her head shook softly as she peered at me directly in the eyes. “Be the tool.”

  “Easy for you to say after twenty-seven years on the scoreboard.”

  “Married to a man with so many demons, most of which were incurred by trauma.” Her eyes shifted over to me again. My face folded. Then Laura sat up, brushed down the front of her thighs, and exhaled.
“Dan was falsely accused of rape at twenty-one. His parents had no money, so his public defense did the shittiest job on the case, and it cost him a fifteen-year sentence, three of which he completed. Lucky for the guy, a community-based legal defense team picked up his case, appealed it, and won. His sentence was overturned, and Dan was freed. But not unscathed.”

  My jaw fell. I didn’t know what to say.

  Laura’s regard traveled into the distance again. “His first eight months in there, he was beaten and sexually assaulted six times. Six times. The last time was so bad, they tossed him in solitary confinement for his protection for nearly a year.” She scoffed bitterly, “Can you imagine what that does to the psyche of a promising college football star? Sheesh,” she spat. “I don’t think Dan had ever been in a fist fight with kids his age before prison, much less with a man doing hard time.”

  “But you saw past that.”

  With a snort, she shook her head. “Every day, I look past that brokenness in his eyes. We fought for years to have his sex offender status lifted. Rightfully, it should have been when he was released, but you know how the system works: against you, not for you. You know he still wakes up, drenched in sweat, kicking, and swinging? I got deathly afraid at one time, because he’d taken up martial arts, needing to learn how to defend himself, although the trauma period has past.” Laura appeared lost in her thoughts.

  “But you grow stronger each day,” I muttered, accepting it.

  Her sapphires were on me again. “Together.” Her smile was dry and face pink. “Anyway,” she exhaled, slapping her thighs as her spine straightened. “I didn’t mean to spill my marital woes onto you. I’ve been wanting to see you to congratulate you.”

  “On getting married?”

  She shook her head. “On knowing your worth and leaving. I can give you a list of those who get burned out but won’t leave for whatever reason. Then they become useless. Just a drained soul there to collect a check. You beat the odds. You did what was right.” She patted my knee.

  “You’ve been calling me all this time to say that?” My tone was wry.

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “I did. But I guess… I guess I needed the closure. I really liked you, Wynter. I saw so much of me in you, which is why it killed me to deliver the news of the pay cut. It’s why I encouraged you to stay even after. The program needed strong, unsullied soldiers like you. I wish I had ten of you. My life would be so much easier.”

  A bitter laugh shot from my stomach. “I thought you were trying to get me to come back.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, no!” Her head swung from left to right. “Well, maybe the first two weeks.” We laughed. “But after that, I just wanted final words with you. You’re so strong, Wynter. Solid, you know? That was your first blow up, and even then, you didn’t cry. You pushed back.”

  She stood and reached for my hands. “I’m glad to have met you, sweetheart. And I’m grateful you allowed me this.” Her eyes gazed up to the winded trees. “I got more than I intended.”

  My forehead stretched. “Like what?”

  “I got confirmation you were my spirit animal. Women who can love broken men, who fight alongside them to make them whole are a dying breed. We’re a unique design. Specialty solider. If we never cross paths again, just know you aren’t alone. Sometimes it makes those stormy nights a tad more bearable.” She patted my hands and smiled. “Be well, Wynter.”

  “You, too, Laura.” I gave a neck bow then watched her walk away. “Hey, Laura!” I called behind her. She turned to face me over her shoulder. “I cry…now. He’s brought out a new emotion. He taught me a better way to weather the rhythm of blues.”

  With a slow rising smile, Laura tossed me a wink and was on her way.

  I’m about to blow…

  I couldn’t hold on any longer. Not with the way her nails dug into the skin on my back. Not with her pussy slipping on and off my dick at this rhythm. Our skin smacking. Her tits bouncing, and her face tight and strained. She usually liked to wear a slick grin when I was inside her, being cheeky.

  But tonight, she was different. Wynter had been less vocal, yet more expressive with her body. She kissed me more, clung to me tighter. She watched me more intently. Maybe it was because we were in my bed here in Sparta for the first time in over a month. At first it was scary, but in no time it became about us. Especially when she said she wanted me on top.

  And now, she was rolling her hips. Flexing her thighs and arching her back, taking me deep inside. I felt her walls, sensed every clench of her pussy. Tasted every acceptance on her tongue. Licked the chocolate of her areola.

  That was it. It was happening. My balls contracted and spine went straight as my seeds shot through me, squirting into her.

  “Oh, god, Raj!” she breathed out faster than my clogged ears would allow me to hear.

  Her sex began banging onto me, driving me crazy as I piston into her sweetness. I spilled and spilled with her going ape beneath me until my whole body tensed and planked over her. My body reeled, head spun as she pulled it down and kissed me with all tongue and breaths. She wouldn’t stop and her thighs lifted and tightened behind me, pulling me to press my full weight on her.

  “Baby, I’mma hurt yo—”

  Wynter deepened the kiss, silencing my caution. With that move, she made us one orally. She slowed the pace, but that didn’t lessen the intensity. I could feel myself throbbing inside her, my body confused. Lost between deflation and crescendo.

  But I liked it. There was a level of intimacy to it—not her usual style, but I was still getting to know Wynter. She’d been a wonder, changing my views day by day.

  A sniffle.

  My eyes flew open. It was hard to focus this close to her. But even in the dim room, I could see tear tracks at the sides of her face.

  I pulled my tongue from her, but Wynter wouldn’t let me lift my head so I could see her better. Our lips remained pressed against each other.

  “What’s the matter?” my voice cracked from the late hour and rehearsing for the tour for fourteen hours straight.

  Wynter didn’t answer at first. Her hands moved, nails pulled out of my skin, causing me to flinch. I was sure I’d need first aid back there. But I wasn’t tripping, especially when those soft, little hands swept down the goosebumps to the bottom of my back. She climbed back up slowly. But when she made it to the tender area, I lifted.

  “What’s the deal?”

  Wynter licked her lips and rolled her head to the left.

  “You haven’t asked about my L.I.T. deal.”

  Man…

  I’d thought about it over the past few days, but it’d been crazy with preparing for the tour. We cranked up the stage production, selected dancers, and booked musicians. The tour kicked off in two weeks and I’d be gone a whole six weeks. To be real, I’d been struggling with having to be apart from her for that long.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to be…” I didn’t know how to apologize for being insensitive to a woman, but I was sorry.

  And that’s when I saw more tears. Wynter covered her face, her torso vibrated.

  “Wait…” I tried pulling her hand down, but she wouldn’t let me. “Wait, now…”

  When she sniffled and tried to catch her breath, I waited, wedged between her thighs.

  “I’m sorry, Wynter.” Panic set in. “Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Since when have I been capable of doing that?

  “It’s not that!” she groaned, but in a whisper.

  Okay. Now we were getting somewhere.

  “Then what is it?”

  Taking in a deep breath, she wiped her face again. But her eyes went to the nightlight off the balcony, cutting through the curtain.

  “I love you.”

  My face stretched and chin dipped. I was so confused.

  Wynter nodded her head, affirming her words while biting her top lip.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I’m in love with you.” She beg
an to cry again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be!” she shouted, squeezing her thighs then groaned. “Like you said in Minnesota: Just don’t make me regret it!”

  She was dead serious, but I couldn’t help my smile. My heart beat a new rhythm. She’d finally caught up. I reached down to kiss her lips.

  Pulling back the bottom one where that mole always got to me, I asked, “Then why you start off talking about L.I.T.?”

  My mouth went below and nipped her chin.

  “Because I’m angry,” she whispered.

  I traced my tongue around the area my teeth just clamped then asked, “Why, Blue?”

  “Because you were going to let me sign with them.”

  My head shot up. “What’s wrong with the deal?”

  “It’s exclusive.”

  “You’d be busy, though. They’re signing up artists, lotta dope ones, too.”

  “But they’re not Ragee.”

  My face went tight.

  Wynter swallowed. “Why would I sign to a major just to fight with other—more experienced—writers when I can garner all the experience at home? With a master?”

  A master…

  I breathed out a chuckle. “I ain’t no master, Wynter. I just love music.”

  “In more than one aspect. You can write, play, and arrange.”

  “And you wanna do that with me?”

  Her head nodded hard and fast as she sucked in air.

  A chilling breath cleared my lungs, forcing my eyes to close.

  His hand was clenched over mine as we rode in the back seat of his SUV. The bumpy streets made us rock, but our regard remained out the window. Mine was blindly. It had been a long day, and for me, one requiring great patience.

  Two Sundays after our getaway, Raj invited me to his church, Redeeming Souls for Abundant Living in Christ, in Harlem for their eight a.m. service. That was interesting. It was there that I witnessed the church boy for real. Raj clapped, danced, waved his hand, and even sang. That last one wasn’t a stretch, but to say he was a professional recording artist, singing in the pews amongst laymen was an entirely different experience.