“I don’t understand,” Roman said in a clipped tone. “We both want each other and we’re consenting adults. Why deny yourself when it’s clear your body wants me?”
Shantel looked down and could see the outline of her puckered nipples through the sheer dress she wore. She wanted to die from embarrassment, but instead she used anger to hide her vulnerability. “That line might work for you with your other women, Roman Lockett, but not with me. I won’t have another one-night stand with you or an affair or whatever else it is you’re looking for. Not now. Not ever. Go find your date.”
Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the art gallery.
Six
“I really believe your son will like it in Atlanta, Tim,” Roman told Curtis Jackson’s father, who’d accompanied him for a drink on Friday afternoon during the league’s combine in Indianapolis. Roman was trying to get him over to his way of thinking. He’d even dressed casually in khaki pants, a polo shirt and a sports coat. He knew Tim thought him something of a stuffed shirt and he wanted to appear friendly and approachable. “Atlanta is a great city and has a lot to offer in terms of culture and black history.”
“I understand all that,” Tim said. “But Curtis would be far from home and I’ve seen and heard the stories of young men who get caught up in the game, Lockett. I want my son to stay grounded, which is why I can’t guarantee you he’ll sign with the Cougars.”
“Surely you see the advantages in going with a black-owned team, Mr. Jackson. We pride ourselves on treating our players like family and they’re paid handsomely. In addition, they are cared for by my brother Julian, one of the top sports doctors in the business, and marketed by my sister, Giana, who’ll help ensure they get the best endorsement deals. We are a one-stop shop.”
“You talk a good game, Lockett, I’ll give you that.”
“Call me Rome,” he said with a smile. “All my friends do.”
Tim nodded. “It’s going to take a lot more than smooth talking to convince me, Rome. Actions speak louder than words.”
“Then please, allow me to invite you down to Atlanta before the draft in April. See our fair city. Come meet my family, so you’ll know your son is in good hands. I promise you, you won’t be disappointed.”
Tim pointed at him. “All right, Rome. I’ll take you up on it.”
“Excellent.” Roman gripped his hand for a shake. “My assistant will contact you soon and make the arrangements.”
He watched the older man walk off and once he was gone, threw back the whiskey he’d been nursing. After discovering the older man didn’t drink, Roman certainly wasn’t going to overdo it in his presence. Tim already had nerves about him and he didn’t want to give Curtis another reason to consider a different team.
“How did it go?” Giana asked, sliding onto the barstool Tim had vacated. She and Julian had accompanied him to the combine, but his brother was nowhere to be found. Gigi looked sophisticated in a red power suit with ankle pants and a lace cami, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.
Roman glanced at her. “How do you think?”
“You always knew he was going to be a hard sell,” Giana replied. “You just have to convince him we’re the best game in town.”
“Like you’re going to convince Wynn Starks to pay for billboards advertising his sports drink at the stadium?” Roman inquired. He knew his sister had been trying to get a meeting with the elusive billionaire bachelor for weeks and had been as unsuccessful as he’d been with winning over Tim.
Her dark brown eyes narrowed on him. “You sound like you don’t think I’m up to the task, but then again, why should I be surprised? You and Daddy always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Underestimate me,” Giana said, rising from the barstool, “but don’t you worry. I’ll prove you wrong and land Wynn Starks.” She sashayed away as swiftly as she’d come, leaving Roman to chuckle at his feisty sister.
She reminded him of another spirited lady he’d been unable to forget. Shantel had dressed him down the night he’d run into her at the gallery a month ago and her words had stayed with him. He couldn’t blame her for her reaction. He’d been a jerk, thinking they could pick up where they’d left off as if nothing had happened. He’d slept with her and crept out, as she’d said, like a thief in the night, leaving a note behind. It was no wonder she wasn’t interested in giving him a second chance.
And he’d respected her wishes.
He’d thought of her often, though, wondered if he should call or text her, but he was certain she wouldn’t respond and Roman didn’t do failure. Not of any kind, which was why he had to figure out how to get Curtis to sign with the Atlanta Cougars.
Otherwise, his father would never step down as general manager of the organization and he would forever live in his shadow.
*
“I think he blames me, Dr. Wilson,” Shantel’s client stated as she sat in her office that afternoon. Alma Stevens looked terrible. Her blond hair hung limply to her shoulders and didn’t appear as if she’d washed it in days. Her usually well-dressed client wore sweatpants, a T-shirt and a hoodie.
Shantel wished she was wearing such comfortable attire. The last few days she’d felt tired and lethargic. This morning she’d barely made it out of bed even though she’d gone to sleep early. Her stomach had been upset and she was not feeling her best, but she’d come to work because she didn’t want to let Alma down. She felt like the woman was on the edge of a possible breakdown.
“We’ve talked about this, Alma. You mustn’t think this way.”
“How can I not, when Brian and I both know I’m the reason our babies can’t make it?” Alma cried. “It’s my womb,” she clutched her stomach, “that’s incapable of carrying them to term. This last one, I went on bed rest after the procedure, hoping to have a better outcome, but after three months…” Fat tears slid down her plump cheeks. “It hurts so much, Dr. Wilson.”
“Have you considered other options?” Shantel asked gently. She’d been hoping to broach the subject to Alma’s husband, Brian, but he’d refused to join in the therapy. Maybe he was too proud to admit he, they needed help.
“You mean surrogacy?” Alma’s voice rose slightly. “Or adoption?”
“Both are viable options.”
“I don’t want anyone else to carry my baby!” Alma cried. “I want to!”
“It’s all right, Alma. Please calm down. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. I feel like a failure and inadequate as a wife. I can’t give my husband the one thing he wants more than anything.”
“More than you?” Shantel leaned over to her side table to pull out several tissues and hand them to Alma. She couldn’t imagine that to be true, but Alma shrugged.
“Maybe.” Alma blew her nose. When she finally glanced up, her eyes were rimmed with red. “The other night I told him I’d leave him so he could find a woman capable of having children. He didn’t say anything, Dr. Wilson. He sat there stone-faced. It broke my heart.” She cried into her Kleenex. “I wished he would say he wanted me no matter what.” She shook her head. “But he didn’t.”
Shantel got up from her seat and went over to hug the young woman. She knew she was supposed to maintain some professional distance, but she couldn’t bear to see the woman in pain and not comfort her. “It’s okay, Alma.” She rubbed Alma’s back as the woman shook with grief. “It’s going to be okay.”
As their session was ending, nausea struck Shantel. She barely made it to the restroom. Luckily it was gone quickly and she was able to resume her schedule.
Her partner, Martin, knocked on her door and poked his head in. “Everything okay?” he inquired. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem a bit out of sorts.”
“It’s nothing,” Shantel replied. “Just something I ate at lunch.”
“If you think that’s all it is…”
“What else could it be?” Shantel replied. She would get some rest tonigh
t and then head to McDonough for her nephew Christopher’s baptism tomorrow. With her family’s love and a whole lot of good cooking, she would be as right as rain.
*
“It’s great to finally have you home for a visit, baby girl,” George Wilson said when Shantel came home to McDonough the following afternoon. The baptism was tomorrow and she’d wanted to come a day early to spend time with her father and siblings.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t driven over from Atlanta as early as she would have liked. When she’d woken up, she’d struggled with nausea and thrown up last night’s pizza. After a hot shower and sips of ginger ale and crackers, she’d finally been able to hit the road. There was no way she was missing seeing her baby nephew.
“I told you I’d be home soon.” Shantel accepted her father’s warm embrace as he led her inside the house.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t sure,” he responded. “Come on in. Have you lost some weight?”
Shantel glanced down at the simple floral sundress she’d chosen to wear. Usually it clung to her curves, but now it hung off her. She supposed she had lost a few pounds the last week or so with the stomach bug. “Maybe a little.”
“C’mon, I’ll fatten you right up. Mrs. Mabel made your favorite pound cake with fresh strawberries.” He walked her to the kitchen, dropping her luggage in the hallway as he went. It sounded good, but Shantel’s stomach churned.
“Mrs. Mabel?” Shantel inquired, sitting down at the kitchen table as her stomach rebelled. She knew her father had been spending time with the widow, but was there more to their relationship?
“Yes, darling,” her father replied, sitting across from her. “She and I have gotten closer.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize things had gotten that serious,” Shantel replied, but should she be surprised? It had been nearly a decade since her mother had taken her own life. She couldn’t expect her father, who was still in his prime, to be alone. She wouldn’t want that for him because she knew was it was like.
Over the last month, she’d thought about Roman Lockett often and what might have been. The night of the art gallery opening, he’d been willing to sleep with her, but then what? After he’d tired of her, he would cast her aside for the next woman who came along. Shantel refused to be used no matter how much her body might ache for the satisfaction Roman could provide.
“Shantel?” Her father broke through her thoughts. “Where did you go just now?”
She shrugged. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m happy for you, and if spending time with Mrs. Mabel is what you want, then go for it.”
He reached across the short distance between them and cupped her cheek. “Thank you. I was worried that after your mama, you might not accept another woman in my life.”
She patted his hand. “Mama’s been gone for years, Daddy. There’s no reason for you to stay in this big house by yourself, paying homage to ghosts of years past. Live your life.”
“I would say the same to you,” her father responded.
Shantel frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Who was the last man you’ve dated, Shantel? I mean seriously dated.”
“You know who. Bobby.”
“Shantel, that’s nearly a decade ago. You need to take your own advice and move on with your life. You’re young. You can have a full, rich life with a husband and whole slew of babies.”
She shook her head and rigidly held her tears in check. “Daddy, I’m just not sure I’m mother material.”
“Why not? Because of your mama’s mental health issues?”
She nodded. She wasn’t sure she could ever bring a child into the world after what had happened with her mother’s mental illness. Shantel didn’t want to risk passing that down to her children.
“Why would you think the worst?”
Shantel shrugged, feeling distracted. All this talk of babies made a thought flit through her brain.
When was my last period?
The front door sprung open and in poured Shantel’s brothers Terrance, Frank and Bernard, and their wives, Lisa, Charlene and Monique. They had five nephews and nieces between them. The newest addition to the family was Frank’s son, Christopher, who was born a mere two weeks ago.
Immediately, Shantel reached for her nephew. He was the cutest thing, with chubby cheeks, dark brown eyes, soft chocolate skin and a head full of hair.
“It’s so good to see you, Shantel,” Charlene said. “But are you sure you’re okay? You look a little green around the gills. Was the drive to McDonough too much?”
Shantel swallowed the bile rising in her throat and nodded.
“Why don’t we get you settled for a laydown?” Charlene fussed over Shantel like she was one of her children, but at the moment Shantel didn’t care. She could use a little looking after from her family. She shouldn’t have stayed away so long.
When they made it to the guest room, Charlene pulled back the quilt on the bed and motioned her forward, but Shantel couldn’t hold back and rushed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
Afterward, she dampened a washcloth and pressed it to her forehead. When she glanced in the mirror, Shantel was horrified by how bad she looked. She was going to have to slap on makeup before her family figured out something was wrong with her.
She came out of the bathroom and found Charlene sitting in the chair next to the bed. “How far along are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re pregnant, right?” Charlene asked, holding the covers so Shantel could slip underneath the quilt. “I mean, I was like that with my first. They call it morning sickness, but it was all day sickness for me, but after the first few months it went away. I kept a steady stock of crackers in my purse.”
“I’m not pregnant,” Shantel said as she crawled into bed.
Charlene gave her an incredulous look. “Forgive me, Shantel, but if there’s one thing I know after bearing three children, it’s pregnancy. When was your last period?”
“Please, Charlene. I don’t want to do this.” Shantel shook her head.
“Shantel.” Charlene sat down beside her on the bed and chastised her. “You also can’t put your head in the sand. If you’re pregnant, you have to start eating right, taking prenatal vitamins and go for your first checkup.”
“You don’t understand, Charlene. I can’t be pregnant. I was only with the man one time. One night.”
“I’m afraid that’s all it takes.”
Wasn’t there some small part of Shantel that had known pregnancy was the explanation for her nausea, loss of appetite and sensitive breasts? But she’d ignored the signs because she hadn’t wanted to accept that five weeks ago, she’d had sex with Roman Lockett. They’d used condoms each and every time though they were known sometimes to fail. How was it possible she’d screwed up so royally?
Tears streamed down her cheeks and she began to sob. Charlene didn’t judge her; she held Shantel in her arms until she cried it out.
When it was over, Charlene handed her some Kleenex to wipe her face. “You’re going to have to get a test and find out for sure, but if you need anything I’m here for you.”
“Thank you.”
But Shantel didn’t need a test to tell her what she already knew. She was pregnant with Roman’s baby.
*
The next morning, Charlene came to the house under the guise that she wanted to talk with Shantel about a friend in need of counseling, but that was far from the case. She’d gone to the grocery store and obtained pregnancy tests.
“I brought a few,” Charlene said, holding up the brown paper bag after they’d retreated to Shantel’s bedroom and closed the door. “In case of any false positives.”
Shantel accepted the package. “Thank you.” She grabbed one of the boxes out of the bag and read the instructions. Then she glanced at the bathroom door. Once she went in, there was no turning back. She wouldn’t be able to hide from the truth.
“Go.” Charlene urged Shantel on. She did as ordered, taking the
entire bag with her into the bathroom. She chose one of the tests and reluctantly peed on the stick.
Then she waited.
Hoped.
Prayed for a different outcome.
But in the end all four tests were positive.
She was indeed pregnant.
Charlene knocked on the door. “What’s happening? What do they say?”
After washing her hands, Shantel opened the door and held up one of the sticks. “They say I’m pregnant.”
Seven
Shantel stared through the window of her office on Monday as the world passed by. It seemed the same, but had changed dramatically. She hadn’t been prepared to see the two lines on the pregnancy stick this weekend. She’d steadfastly told herself that her illness could be attributed to a bug or something she’d eaten.
But a baby?
She had never wanted a child of her own, but now that it was here, she had to face the truth. And her own fears that someday, a child of hers might become unwell like her mother. She’d heard it all her life. Whispers in the small town about her “crazy” mother. Shantel and her brothers had been mocked, but her brothers hadn’t cared. They’d told her to ignore the bullies. It’s just words, they’d said, but Shantel had always taken it to heart. She hadn’t been able to shrug it off, not when she’d needed someone to talk to, to confide in about becoming a woman. But her mother had been incapable of being there for her. Shantel had to muddle through puberty mostly on her own, with a little help from the school nurse.
It had been terrifying, but she’d pulled through. She’d become a psychiatrist to help people like her mother with their problems, all the while worrying that she might turn out like her mother herself. She’d graduated with a master’s degree in psychology with a concentration in mental health. Then she’d gone to medical school and done a four-year residency. It had been a long road, but a rewarding one.
She’d taken pride in being responsible. And now, she’d gone and gotten herself knocked up by one of the biggest players in Atlanta. Roman Lockett had only wanted her because she was an anomaly, different from the women he usually encountered. He hadn’t wanted to get to know her, except in the biblical sense. As much as she’d wanted to be with him, Shantel had known it was a mistake. But they’d created something precious.
Consequences of Passion--A sensual pregnancy romance Page 5
