by Nia Arthurs
I run my hands against my trousers. “Great. I love their food.”
Awkwardness descends because, even though Wilson didn’t state it outright, he suggested that I’m overdressed. Which makes me feel self-conscious. Again.
I can’t be the only one uncomfortable here. “Have you talked to Violet yet?”
“Uh… no.” Wilson fumbles over the steering wheel. “It’s been a crazy week. Haven’t really had the time. She’s busy too.”
“I didn’t see her at the wedding. She must be very busy.”
“Yeah.” Wilson frowns.
Violet was invited to the wedding and sent her regards, but we both know why she didn’t show up. It must suck loving someone so much when they don’t care about you the same way. At least in my situation, I know exactly where Wilson’s loyalty lies.
Feeling sorry for him, I change the subject. “Have you seen Amaya’s photos from the honeymoon? They look like they’re having fun.”
“Yeah.” Wilson visibly relaxes. “Kent’s situation is… unique. I honestly didn’t think he’d ever find someone who would be able to understand and not be overwhelmed by his amnesia.”
“Amaya’s the definition of unique.”
He slants me a look. “Was that a compliment or…?”
I laugh at his confusion. “That was a joke.”
“I hope the kid doesn’t get your sense of humor.”
“Excuse me? I slayed my primary school talent show with my stand up comedy. You have no idea who you’re talking to.”
Wilson chuckles. “You did comedy for your school’s talent show?”
“Damn straight. Everyone sang and danced, but the teachers always put me last because they knew I’d deliver.”
Wilson’s face is getting red now. “Stop. Please, I can’t breathe.”
I grin at him, my heart loosening for the first time since I learned I was pregnant.
Thomas is wrong. We’re taking the long route, but both Wilson and I are going to get our happily ever afters someday. I believe it.
Chapter Seven
Wilson
I prepare to head home the next day, more confident that Zora and I will be able to work everything out. The dinner last night felt less like a war zone and more like two mature adults planning for the future.
Sounds dry, but it wasn’t. Zora managed to crack me up several times. She’s crazy, but in a way that reveals her vulnerability rather than a need for attention.
I’m glad I composed myself before the date instead of blasting my frustration on her the way I wanted to after Thomas’s surprise visit. Zora was visibly shocked by how calm I was, and she let her walls down because of it.
I’m glad I got to see her—the real her that’s snappy, sarcastic and blunt but without the razor sharp edge she’s had during our past encounters.
My phone alarm blares, warning it’s time to leave.
I give my hotel room one last sweep before I grab my duffel bag and head to the foyer. Uniqua isn’t at the desk today, but I spot another familiar face lounging on the edge of a couch in the lobby.
“Diandra?” I stride toward her. “What are you doing here?”
She hops to her feet and gives me a quick hug. Dressed in a T-shirt and shorts with her long hair dangling to her back, Diandra looks like a teenager. The smile on her dark face automatically brings a grin to my own.
“Zora mentioned you were worried about getting your rental back to the dealer before missing your flight.” She offers her hand, palm up, for my keys. “So I’m here to help.”
“Zora sent you?”
“You have no idea how many errands I’ve run for her just because I’m free on the weekends.”
The fact that Zora was thinking about me makes me smile. “I appreciate that, but you didn’t have to.”
“I want to. We haven’t really talked since, well, you know. I figured we could have a nice chat on the way to the airport.” She wiggles her fingers. “Keys, Mr. Barton?”
I fish them out of my pocket, but snatch them back just before giving them over. “I’ll drive.”
“Suits me.”
The moment we get into the car and I turn the ignition, Diandra swerves and pins me with a stare. “Have you told Violet yet?”
“Why are you and Zora so interested in my love life?”
“Because we have nothing better to do, duh.” She slaps my arm gently. “I’m going to take that as a ‘no’. How did things go with Zora yesterday?”
“Good. Surprisingly. I thought this whole situation would be a lot more dramatic, but she’s handling it well.”
“Trust me. She’s probably freaking out on her own, but she won’t let anyone know it.”
“You think?” I glance at Diandra.
“I know. Amaya and Zora are a lot alike. It’s why they couldn’t stand each other at first.”
“No way. Amaya’s nothing like Zora.”
“Maybe she’s not as brusque and prickly, but they both have an obsession with hiding their burdens and pretending they have it all under control. Zora keeps people at arm’s length so they can’t hurt her. And if they get too close, she hurts them first.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Are you sure you should be selling insurance? Sounds like you should be a shrink.”
“Psychology is a passion of mine. I majored in social work during college, but I had to drop out.”
“Oh.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Back to Zora, don’t assume she’s okay just because she’s not crying or screaming at you. There’s a lot beneath the surface that she doesn’t show.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And with Violet…”
“What now?” I focus on the road. “You analyzed her too?”
“You’re a great guy,” Diandra says quietly. “She’d be crazy to pass you up.”
I let out a breath, realizing I was on edge waiting for her to warn that Violet would reject me. It’s a reality I’ve considered myself and not one I need confirmed by someone I met a year ago.
“Got it.”
Diandra slows in front of the airport doors and drives off to get my car back to the dealer.
I board the plane and try to focus on work, but I’m too nervous. Today is the day I tell Violet about Zora.
Vi and I have been through so much that one paltry conversation shouldn’t faze me. But it does.
I remember the first time I met Violet. Kent had just moved in with us. He was quiet and depressed, and he got sick often.
I used to drag him outside and tried to coax him to play with me. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But I never stopped trying. I hated seeing my little cousin so withdrawn.
One day, Violet came bouncing down the street. She was all raven hair, floppy ears and gangly limbs. Seemed like her purpose in life was to follow Kent and me around and annoy the heck out of us.
Our shared distaste for Violet is one of the reasons Kent was so quick to smile again, but I was definitely the leader when it came to hating her.
Then I grew up.
We got to junior high and girls weren’t annoying to me anymore. I started noticing Vi, but had no idea how to handle my feelings so I just ignored her instead. When she did come around, I was extra mean to her so she and Kent never knew how I felt.
She still put up with us though. Called us friends. Hung around. We managed to keep our dynamic and my feelings were safely locked away.
Until I got to high school and realized I wasn’t the only one noticing Vi. It seemed like every red-blooded male with two working eyeballs was trying to hit on her.
I put up with it as long as I could—which amounted to about three weeks. Before our first homecoming, I asked Violet to be my girlfriend.
She told me she needed to think about it and I waited in torture for three days until she finally slipped me a note accepting my proposal.
It was the best three years and six months of my life. We were the school’s ‘it’ c
ouple. Not that I cared about the label. Violet was my everything. As long as I had her, the world could crash and burn and I’d be okay.
A few weeks before graduation, my world did burn but it was Vi who started the fire.
‘I can’t be with you anymore,” she said beneath the bleachers in the gym. ‘The truth is… I like Kent. I always have.”
She ripped my heart out. Clear out of my chest. I saw it beating in her pretty little hands before she dug her fingernails in and squashed it. To make matters worse, I couldn’t even hate the guy she chose.
So I had to lick my wounds. Find a way to live without her. But I never found another girl who could make me feel the way Violet did.
And I tried. So much and so recklessly that I got some nasty infections. The health scares forced me to stop sleeping around, so I turned to making my business a success and worked tirelessly with Kent to build something Violet would notice.
Still, when she came back into my life, it was to fawn over my cousin.
I wanted to be jealous, but I couldn’t. Kent was suffering from amnesia, slowly dying from brain trauma and she was the only one who could pull him out of the house and coax him back into the world.
So I swallowed my feelings again and tried to be friends with Violet. I told myself this was our new normal and that I could never be with her.
But then I got another chance. When Violet found out how much Kent loved Amaya, she ran back to me. I accepted her with open arms.
We’ve been dating on and off for a year, but each time I try to make things official, she’s shied away from me.
Now, I plan to get an answer from her no matter what. With a kid on the way, I need to start taking a hard look at my future. And I can’t imagine a future without Violet in it.
The moment the plane lands, I catch a taxi to Violet’s apartment and text her to let her know I’m on my way.
My phone pings with her reply.
VI: I’ll be here.
Not the rousing welcome I was expecting, but then no one can interpret the tone of a text message for certain.
I stop at a flower shop on my way to her apartment and purchase a bouquet of roses—her favorite. Gift giving is her love language, and I’m prepared to do whatever I have to so that Violet becomes mine.
A few minutes later, I stop in front of her room, adjust my collar and then knock on the door.
It swings open, revealing Violet dressed in a silky, pink robe. Her black hair falls over her shoulders, blue eyes fixed on me. “You’re here.”
“Hey.” I let out a breath. “You look stunning.”
Her eyes fall to my hands. “Thanks. What are those?”
“They’re flowers.”
“And?”
“Oh, they’re for you.” I hold the bouquet out to her.
“Thanks.” She takes it and then thrusts it on the ground.
“Hey!” I start to protest, but she yanks me inside and presses her body against mine.
“Come here,” she murmurs before smothering my lips in a kiss. I wrap my hand around her waist and enjoy the feel of her, immediately falling into the rhythm of her caress.
I planned on talking to Violet before we did anything else, but this is a nice distraction.
We end up on the couch. Violet’s already taken my shirt off and I’m working on slipping her robe off those silky shoulders when I spot her phone on the stand.
It’s open to Kent’s page. There’s a picture of him with Amaya in Paris. She’s kissing his cheek and he’s looking at her with a sparkle in his eye.
The sight washes over me like a bucket of ice-cold water. I push Violet off.
She moves her hair back with one pale hand, her cheeks flushed and her robe hanging off her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Vi, why are you doing this?”
“Having sex?” She climbs on top of me, a roguish grin on her face as she fumbles with my belt. “Because I want to.”
I palm her shoulders and force her away. My heart is shuddering in my chest. My nose flares. I’m still attracted to her, but my body isn’t in control. My head is clear for the first time in months.
“Do you even care about me?”
“Will…” She chuckles incredulously. “Why are you spoiling the mood? Don’t you want me?”
“Yes, Violet. I do. I want all of you, but I’ll never really have it, will I?”
She glances away.
My voice turns husky. “Were you just using me this entire time?”
“I needed to remember. What it felt like to be wanted. And you’ve always been great at that.”
My heart hardens. I grab my shirt and slip it back on.
Violet groans. “Will, don’t be like that.”
I walk to the door where the roses I was so excited to give Violet are scattered on the ground, the fragile red petals crushed beneath our feet.
I stare at the flowers and then at Violet. “Find some other guy to stroke your ego. I’m done.”
“Will, come on! Will!”
I slip out of her apartment and slam the door behind me. As I stalk to the lobby and head outside, I realize my heart is bleeding and leaving an invisible trail of crushed rose petals behind.
Chapter Eight
Zora
“What? Wilson is here?” I drop my spatula in the pot of scrambled eggs and hiss when the splatter hits my apron. I dot at the mess with the end of my shapeless grey dress. “He’s early.”
“So you didn’t know?” Diandra’s voice squawks through the phone speakers.
“We agreed he’d come for my first prenatal appointment but that’s not for a few days.”
“I knew it was strange. When I dropped him off at the airport two weeks ago, he said he wouldn’t be back until the end of the month. I was wondering if you two had talked about moving up the schedule.”
“No. We haven’t talked at all.”
“As in he hasn’t even called since then?”
“Nope?”
“Facebook?”
“No.”
“Text?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Why not?” Diandra sounds horrified. “Are you fighting again?”
“No. I told Wilson I would only bother him if there’s a problem and so far, the pregnancy has been smooth sailing.”
Well, I’ve been sick every morning, but that’s to be expected. Apart from the nausea and the fact that almost every woman at my work can tell that I’m pregnant, not much has changed.
“He should at least check on you,” Diandra murmurs. “Maybe that’s why he’s moving down here, so he doesn’t have to worry from afar.”
“Move? Who said he was moving?”
“Last week, Wilson emailed me asking if I could recommend a realtor.”
“He’s buying a house in Belize? Are you sure the realtor’s not for Amaya and Kent?”
“Kent wants to stay in Amaya’s bungalow since it’s already familiar to him. Most of his things are there too. And even if they wanted to move, they wouldn’t ask Wilson to ask me.”
I lean against the counter and soak in the news. Why didn’t Wilson ask me to help? Why Diandra? I thought we were closer than that. Does he still not trust me even though I’m having his child?
Diandra senses my hesitation and laughs sheepishly. “Oops. Maybe it was a surprise and I spoiled it.”
“Maybe.”
“Sorry for bothering you on your day off. What were you doing?”
“Nothing much. Thanks for calling, Diandra.”
“Anytime.”
We hang up, and I set the phone on the counter next to my pan of scorched eggs. My thoughts race so fast it’s hard to settle on one.
At our last meeting, Wilson expressed interest in being more involved in the baby’s life. He convinced me to let him tag along during doctors’ visits and left strict instructions to call him if there was an emergency.
I insisted I’d be fine on my own, but he threatened to draft up a contract if I wanted to
put up a fuss.
I thought his desire to take care of me was cute, and it made me eager to show that the street ran both ways. Which was why I asked Diandra to help him out with the rental car.
We were on a good path. So why is he withholding information now?
I hear a thud outside and frown. After checking that the stove is off, I run to the door and rise on the tips of my toes so I can investigate. Through the peephole, I spy deliverymen scrambling around like ants.
Looks like someone’s finally moving into that empty apartment.
I shrug and take one step away from the door when the conversation with Diandra crashes into my head.
Wilson was asking for a realtor.
My jaw drops. “No, it can’t be…”
I’m rushing into the hall before I can convince myself that my instincts are wrong.
The door to the apartment across from mine is wide open. A deliveryman smiles at me as he emerges with an empty box in his arms.
I barge past him and sprint inside, skidding to a stop when my eyes land on Wilson.
He’s standing in the middle of the living room, bringing order to the chaos. His brown T-shirt strains against his muscular chest and dark jeans clad his thick legs. He runs his fingers through his black hair, mussing it further.
“The sofa goes there,” he says, brown eyes focused and arms gesturing. “Leave the lamp on the table for now.”
I tiptoe deeper into the room. “Wilson?”
He turns, his gaze colliding with mine. “Hey, Zora.”
“‘Hey, Zora’?” I advance on him and hiss, “What is all this?”
“This? It’s furniture.”
“I know what it is, Wilson. What does it mean?”
“Is that another rhetorical question or…?”
I grab his arm and lead him to the side. “When were you going to tell me you’d bought a place in my apartment building?”
“Oh? So it’s your apartment building now?”
I meet his smirk with a dark glare. “You should have told me.”
“I knew you’d react like this.”
