by Nia Arthurs
Now more than ever, we need to keep those physical boundaries. After mulling it over, I’ve decided that I want to pursue Violet again. More intentionally.
To convince her that she has nothing to be jealous or wary about, I need to keep Zora in her lane. Forge lines. Build walls. And never cross them.
The most we can ever be is friends and—from where I’m looking, even that will be a stretch.
But I’m not complaining. Mom’s favorite line growing up was ‘if you make your bed, you have to lie in it’. I didn’t just make my bed. I broke it. And now I have to take responsibility.
My telephone rings, disturbing my thoughts.
I pick up. “Tracey?”
“Mr. Barton?” My elderly receptionist always speaks to me in running sentences as if she’ll forget what she has to say if she doesn’t get it all out at once. “Remember you have a flight in an hour. Your bag’s all packed and waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Tracey,” I say after puzzling through the gist of her message.
I hang up and then pull my cell phone out of my pocket. Violet’s picture stares back at me. I run my thumb over her pale cheek, pretending I can feel the texture of her lily-soft skin.
Violet’s dark hair and brilliant blue eyes demand attention wherever she goes, but it’s especially striking when captured in a camera lens.
Photography was a hobby of mine, and Violet was my favorite subject. I have a hard-drive filled with pictures of her. In my weakest moments, I look through all of them, regretting what could have been.
But I haven’t done that for a while. Not since last year.
Violet came to Belize, expecting Kent to be his usual self and found him completely transformed by Amaya’s love. She came running back to me. Sort of. We’re not into labels. Something I’m going to change as soon as I get back from Belize and have a nice long chat with her.
I dial her number just to hear her voice. When she picks up, my heart expands. “Hey, Vi. You busy?”
“No, I just got through with a client. What’s up?”
“I’m heading to Belize in a few. You want me to bring back anything? Except the usual Marie Sharp pepper, of course.”
“No. I’m good.” Her tone is subdued.
Strange. Violet’s usually full of energy. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Have a nice flight.”
I hear a click and realize she hung up. My instincts warn that Violet cutting our conversation short isn’t a good sign, but I don’t want to acknowledge the warning.
Maybe she’s just in a bad mood today. Maybe she doesn’t want to act unprofessional in front of her client. There are a million reasons she’s being cold.
For now, I need to see Zora and finalize some things then I can fly right back and make my relationship with Violet official.
My flight to Belize is uneventful, as usual. I work on the way and only close the laptop when the flight attendant announces that we’re making our descent.
I flip my window shade and admire the groves surrounding the small airport. The sunshine slices through the foliage. It’s a gorgeous display and I get excited just staring at it.
When we land, I disembark and zip through customs. The woman behind the window knows my face and strikes up a conversation as she stamps my passport.
By the time I drag my suitcase through the exits, I’m in a much lighter mood.
I slip my shades on to help adjust my eyes to the glare from the cars parked in the lot across the street.
Coconut trees rise from the concrete. The sky is even bluer on land than it was when I was in the plane. If that’s possible. A stiff wind blows hot air beneath my T-shirt.
Chatter rides the wind. Taxi men lounge on the side of the building, their black eyes sharp and focused on the tourists streaming out of the double doors like hunters waiting to seize on their prey.
I look for my favorite driver and, when I realize he’s not there, wave another man over. He takes my bags. With a forced American accent, he welcomes me to Belize and gives me a ‘complementary tour’ on our way to the city.
I just smile and nod. The truth is I’ve been here a hundred times already. Kent chose this place at random last year, but when he decided to stay I visited him frequently.
I consider myself an honorary Belizean. Rice and beans is my favorite dish and I’ve tried making it a few times in my own kitchen.
Reggae and dancehall music clutter my IPhone and I, like any self-respecting Belizean, can safely drive the streets no matter how crazy traffic is.
Amaya’s also taught me a few phrases in Creole, and I can understand the language better than I speak it.
By the time my self-proclaimed guide stops in front of Queen Hotel, I realize that I’ve learned far more about Belize than I thought I had.
After paying him, leaving an extra tip for the tour, I walk into the hotel and greet a thick, buxom woman with dark skin and dark brown hair.
“Uniqua,” I greet with a smile.
She tosses her head and nods. “Wilson! I’m glad you arrived safely. Your room is ready.”
“Tell me something.” I lean over the counter. “How do you get more beautiful every time I see you?”
She ducks and giggles. I wink at her and straighten intending to walk away, but she calls me back. “Oh, Wilson. Someone’s been waiting for you in the café. He asked that you meet him there right away.”
I turn back around. My thoughts race as I struggle to figure out which of my acquaintances in Belize would wait for me. “Who?”
“He said his name was,” she glances around a stack of papers on her desk, “here it is. Thomas King.”
Thomas?
My eyes widen. “Where did he say he was?”
“Uh, the café.”
I whirl around and sprint to the café. Through the glass walls, I spot Thomas sitting in a chair at a table crammed into a corner. His head is down and he’s staring at a cell phone in his hands.
The moment I step inside, the bell above the door jangles and Thomas glances up. His brown eyes narrow when he sees me. I swallow. He’s menacing and I’m instantly concerned.
What did he drive all the way here to discuss?
My funeral?
“Thomas.” I dip my head.
“Wilson.” He sets his dark hands on the table and clasps them. “Nice to see you again.”
That’s a lie and we both know it.
I clear my throat and fall into the seat across from him. “Is Zora okay?”
“She’s fine. Still reeling from the fact that she’s pregnant.” He glares at me like I made the baby on my own. “But she’s getting there.”
“I’m glad.”
Silence falls between us. I hate awkward pauses almost as much as I hate squirming, but here I am. Involved with both.
I glance at my watch. “Is there something else?”
“What do you plan on doing about the child?”
“That’s what I came to discuss with Zora.” I study him suspiciously. “We’ll figure it out on our own, but I’ll do right by the kid.”
“How are you gonna do right by my sister?”
I blink. “What?”
“Zora,” Thomas’s jaw clenches, “she’s been through a lot. Life’s never been easy and she had to grow up fast.”
Is he blaming me for that too?
“Despite how we might look, we’re a traditional Caribbean family.”
“Meaning?”
He leans closer, his eyes focused on mine. “Meaning, if you knock her up, you marry her.”
“M-marry?”
“I told Zora I’d fix this.” He arches an eyebrow. “Make an honest woman of her and maybe I’ll forget you conceived a child under circumstances with dubious consent.”
“Dubious… are you accusing me of assault?”
“I never said that.” Thomas shrugs, but the implication rings loud and clear.
“I didn’t assault Zora.” I rise from the table and stare him d
own. “I’ll let this slide because you’re Zora’s brother, but the next time you threaten me or my reputation, I won’t be this gracious.” I reach for my wallet and slap a twenty on the table. “Have a frozen coffee. It’s on me.”
Thomas half-rises from the table like he’ll come after me, but I just ignore him and stride away.
Chapter Six
Zora
I’m grateful my scrubs aren’t fitted because my stomach bulge has become a full-blown beer belly. At least the morning sickness hasn’t been as bad lately.
Thank God for small mercies.
Getting pregnant was not a part of the plan, but every day the reality of it soaks in a little further. Maybe by the time I’m ready to give birth, it won’t be as shocking.
I bop my head to the music pouring from my phone as I rummage through my closet for something to wear. Wilson and I are supposed to meet tonight, and I need an outfit that says ‘classy baby mama’ rather than ‘nervous one-night-stand who didn’t sign up for this’.
We’ve texted a bit since Amaya’s wedding, but it’s clear Wilson isn’t too thrilled about this pregnancy. Or maybe I’m the one he’s not too thrilled with.
I’m sure if Violet had his baby, Wilson would be over the moon. He’d probably paste it all over social media. Shout it from the rooftops. Hire a freaking blimp to float over a stadium with the words ‘we’re pregnant’ fluttering from a banner.
I’m jealous, but not because I want his affection or his love. There’s not even a flicker of hope that such a thing is possible for us. Wilson’s been honest from the start. He has eyes for Violet only.
As a girl who’s been cheated on multiple times, I respect that dedication. I just wish I didn’t have to feel like the evil villain crushing their love story beneath my spiky red heels.
Why can’t I be the Cinderella, rather than the evil, knocked up stepsister?
My music cuts out, replaced with a blaring ring. I pad to the dresser and lean over, spying Thomas’s name on the screen.
I’ve communicated more frequently with Wilson than with my brother this past week. Whether Thomas was intentionally avoiding me or just busy on his quest to ‘fix’ my life, I didn’t bother him.
I pick up. “Hello?”
“Are you home?”
“Yeah.” I glance at my hair in the mirror. The strands are wound around curlers and protrude like an alien skull. “But I’m kind of busy.”
“Doing what?”
I resent his nosiness but answer anyway. “If you must know, I’m meeting Wilson tonight. We’re having dinner.”
“Like a date?”
The frustrated sigh escapes despite my effort to hold it back. “No, it’s not a date, Thomas. It’s more of a… business meeting. Look, I appreciate your concern but I’m a big girl. I don’t need to explain everything to you.”
“Then explain this. Were you drunk when you slept with Wilson?”
“What kind of question is that?”
“Were you?” he presses.
I hesitate because, again, no girl wants to discuss the details of her sex life with her big brother. “Thomas…”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I wasn’t drunk. I was a little tipsy, but not to the point where I couldn’t think for myself. Why are you asking me this?”
Thomas curses. “I spoke to Wilson today.”
“What? Why? What did you say?”
“I told him to marry you.”
The strength leaves my legs and I fall to the edge of my bed. My nails dig into the fluffy comforter. “Are… are you crazy?”
“Do you have a better idea? At least if he marries you I’ll know the baby will have two stable parents in his life.”
“Thomas, you can’t fix this by forcing Wilson to marry me. Have you thought of the effect it will have on the kid growing up with two people who don’t love each other? That’s just as traumatizing.”
“It’s better than not having a father.”
“Stop. Just stop projecting your own insecurities on my unborn child.”
“Are you blind, Zora? What happily ever after are you hoping for? News flash, there are none. Your options go from bad to worse at this point.”
“How uplifting.”
“This isn’t my insecurity talking. These are facts backed up by research. All you have to look forward to is financial, emotional and mental strain. You’re going to take care of a human being alone, even though you didn’t make him alone. Does that seem fair? I did what I had to for your future.”
“I made a mistake, okay? I get that. Actions have consequences and I’m living proof, but a shotgun marriage is not the answer.”
“Then what’s your answer, huh? Should I watch you struggle to date with a child while Wilson goes gallivanting around with some other girl? Should I watch your body change and get stretch marks while he doesn’t even get a scar? Should I let him get away with this because of your pride?”
“Yes, you should, Thomas. It sucks that his body won’t change and his reputation won’t suffer from having a kid out of wedlock, but I’m not trying to fight society’s stupid double standards. I just want peace. Okay? Can I have that?”
“That’s all I want for you.”
“Then forget about this marriage thing. It’s not going to happen, and if you were going to present that to Wilson you should have spoken to me first. I’m the one who’ll have to live with him.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I blow out a breath. “I need to go.”
“There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy, Zora. Believe me.”
“I do,” I whisper and then hang up.
My conversation with Thomas sucks all the wind out of my sails. Before, I was anxious about my meeting with Wilson. Now, I’m dreading it.
How can I look him in the eyes again knowing my brother tried to pawn me off like a mail-order bride in the Wild West?
I switch my modest black gown with puffed sleeves and a knee-length hemline to a soft rose pantsuit. The suit makes me feel more powerful and aggressive. Less like a damsel, more like the knight.
There’s not a doubt in my mind that Wilson shot down my brother’s marriage proposal on the spot, and the last thing I want is him pitying me because he thinks I’m desperate.
Despite Thomas’s fears, I can handle this on my own. It’s time to rebuild my image. After all, the appearance of a strong, independent woman is all I have.
I head downstairs, stop on the sidewalk and strike my power pose when I hear tires crunching over gravel. A sporty little Jeep parks in the space next to me and my next-door neighbor pops out.
My arms fall as I sheepishly wave. “Mrs. Jensen.”
She adjusts the glasses on her flared nose and shoots me a disapproving look. “Zora.”
My smile cracks when she stares me down and finally disappears inside. I rub my temple and wince. How embarrassing.
A moment later, another car approaches. This time, I don’t even bother with the power pose and just stand still, waiting to verify the identity of the driver.
The door pops open and Wilson steps out. He’s dressed in a white button-down shirt and jeans. Dressy casual. It works on him. Way too much. My heart does that little thudding thing it always does when faced with an attractive man.
I hate that Wilson still appeals to my body, but all I can do is pretend that night never happens and hope I get over these pesky, superficial feelings eventually.
“Why are you waiting outside?” he asks. “I was going to walk up.”
“I needed some air.”
“Oh.”
I study him. His expression is mild, if not curious. There’s no hint that he’s holding Thomas’s marriage threat against me.
Wilson gestures to the boxy SUV. “Shall we?”
“Sure.”
We move toward the car, but after a while, I realize he’s walking in the same direction. I freeze and then glance at the driver’s side door, which
is blaring open. “Um, am I supposed to drive?”
“No, Zora.” He cracks a handsome smile as he opens my door for me. “This is your seat.”
I’m a little thrown off by the gallant gesture. No past boyfriend has held the car door open for me, and I have no idea why Wilson—a man I’m not dating—would break that streak.
As soon as he slides in behind the wheel, I turn to him. “Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” he asks absently, focusing on driving out of the parking lot.
“Open my door.”
He gives me a little glance. “Can’t I do that?”
“No, I guess. Yeah, if you want.”
That small smile again. What’s going on here? Did he accept the marriage proposal? Or is this some plot to curry my favor so he can ask for something big at dinner?
I gasp. What if he wants me to sign over all my maternal rights to him and Violet so they can raise the child together?
“I’m not giving you the kid.” I blurt. My hand falls protectively over my stomach. “In case you’re wondering.”
Wilson laughs. “What? Where did that come from?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I counter his question with one of my own.
“Can’t I be nice to you?”
I study the planes of his face and the black beard that makes him look like a lumberjack. “I know Thomas visited you today. I know what he asked for.”
“So?”
“Aren’t you angry? Or at least annoyed?”
“No, and even if I was, that’s between me and Thomas. It has nothing to do with us.”
I let out a breath. “In case you’re worried, I don’t want to marry you. If you were the last man on earth, I still wouldn’t marry you.”
He smirks. “Noted.”
I settle back in my chair, feeling lighter. Wilson and I have never really had a deep conversation. At least, not one free from arguments. He’s being carefree and jovial around me, the way he is with Amaya and even Diandra.
It makes me happy. Gives me hope that, in the future, we can be cordial if not full-blown friends.
“So where are we going?”
“Well, I was going to take you to the park near the hotel. Kent swears he and Amaya had great conversations there, but I changed my mind.” He slides his gaze over my outfit. “So I’m taking us to Paparazzi’s instead.”
