by Nia Arthurs
“Like what?”
“Annoyed. Offended. Angry.”
I’m all those things, but I’m even more agitated that he pointed it out. My feet shuffle on the floor. “You’re not really moving to Belize, are you?”
“You bet I am.” He gestures to the room by spreading his arms wide. “You’re looking at the second headquarters of Barton Industries.”
“Come again?”
His smirk becomes a full-blown smile. “Kent and I are working on the B-Jogger 2.0. I figured he wouldn’t want to leave his new bride to come work with me and since the mother of my child is in Belize, I thought it would be best if I moved the company here.”
“I get that.” I let out a breath. “But why did it have to be my building?”
“What? You don’t like that we’re neighbors?”
No. No, I don’t. The closer I am to Wilson, the more confusing things can get.
We made love, but we don’t love each other. We’re having a kid, but we’re not married. We’re doing everything out of order and it’s all messy.
I like having control, which means hanging out with Wilson in a prearranged environment where I can prepare myself emotionally and mentally for his presence.
This… is not what I wanted.
“Come on.” He takes my hand and gently leads me forward. Wilson’s muscles flex as he grabs a chair with one arm and places it in the corner, away from the commotion. “If you’re going to scold me, at least sit down while you’re at it. Have you eaten?”
I stare at him, confused by his thoughtfulness.
“It’s not a test, Zora. A ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ will do fine.”
“I was just making breakfast.”
“So you haven’t eaten?”
I shake my head.
Wilson glances over his shoulder and addresses the workers. “Keep going, guys. I’ll be back in a minute.”
A rousing chorus of grunts and ‘uh-huhs’ meet his statement.
Wilson drags me back to my apartment and closes the door. He studies the lock. “Don’t you have a deadbolt?”
“Why would I need a deadbolt?”
He scratches his chin. “You’re right. You’ll need a deadbolt and an alarm system.”
“For what? I’m not hiding a jade head in here.”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. Wilson moves into the kitchen and, with a hand on his hips, looks around. “Where’s breakfast?”
“It’s that.” I nod to the eggs.
He makes a face. “What is it?”
“Scrambled eggs with chopped ham, onions and bell pepper.”
“Why is it black?”
“What are you? Chef Gordon Ramsey? It’s my breakfast. You can save your judgment.”
He chuckles. “Sit down.” Wilson grabs the pan and slides the eggs into the garbage. “I’ll make you the best toast and eggs you’ve ever had.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I sit around the small table and watch him open all the cupboards in search of a bowl. “Top corner to the right.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” I lean back, letting the silence linger for a moment before I speak. “Did you really move here for the baby?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“I just… I thought we’d agreed not to make any major changes without discussing it with each other first.”
“Are you that upset that I’m here?” he asks, cracking two eggs into the bowl.
“It feels like you don’t trust me.”
His arm drops. “What?”
“Look, I get it.” I glance away before he thinks his opinion of me matters at all. “We don’t really know each other and yet we’re connected in such a huge way, but I told you before that I can handle everything on my own.”
“Of course you can.” Wilson stares me right in the eyes.
“Then why are you here?”
“The risk of miscarriage increases around the nine-week mark. Besides that, there are a ton of other complications that could happen. I didn’t want to be hundreds of miles away in case you—I mean the baby needed me.”
His words rob me of speech. Is he really that invested in this kid or is there something he isn’t telling me?
Wilson rubs the back of his neck and turns around to finish making the eggs. He whips up the meal in ten minutes flat and slides the plate on the table.
It smells divine, but I coach my expression so he can’t tell how impressed I am. Wilson looks too arrogant already.
“If that’s not the best scrambled egg you’ve ever tasted, I’ll grant you one wish,” he says.
My eyebrows hike. “For anything?”
“Anything.”
My, my. Someone’s confident.
I shovel a forkful of eggs into my mouth and straighten when the flavors roll over my tongue.
Wilson watches me closely, but after I take that first bite, he barks out a laugh. “Shoot. I should have made you bet something too.”
“It’s not that good,” I lie through a mouthful of eggs.
Before he can respond, there’s a knock at the door. A voice calls out, “Mr. Barton, where do you want this dresser?”
He slants me a knowing look. “Try not to stuff it all down while I’m gone.”
I stick my tongue out at his back and proceed to enjoy the best scrambled eggs I’ve had in my life.
When I’m done, I check the peephole again and notice that the deliverymen marching into Wilson’s new apartment have slowed to a trickle now. Is he coming back?
Not that I expect him to pop back over here. He must have his hands full putting his apartment together.
I glance at my own space. I’m not a messy person so even though I use my day offs to clean and do laundry, it doesn’t take me that long. Maybe I can help Wilson fix his place up.
My hand goes for the doorknob when a thought stops me. Why are you seeking Wilson out? Didn’t you say things could get complicated if you got too close to him?
It’s a good point and I turn away from the door.
But… he is the father of my child. There’s nothing wrong with getting a little closer.
I spin back to the door.
You had sex. How much closer do you want to get?
That’s a good point.
I linger in front of the door before chickening out and staying in my room all night watching Netflix. My eyes flit to the clock on my phone after every episode. It gets later and later, but Wilson doesn’t stop by.
After eight, I take the television off and slide out of bed. I’m shocked by how disappointed I am. It’s not like we’re friends. He doesn’t owe me anything. Wilson made it clear he’s here for the baby and nothing else.
“I’m such a mess.” I palm my forehead and squeeze. It feels like I’ve wasted hours trying to distract myself from an issue that shouldn’t even be an issue.
My phone buzzes on the pillow beside me. My heart skips a beat as I scoop it up, instinctively searching for Wilson’s name on the screen.
It’s not him.
AMAYA: Hey, we’re heading back home now. See you soon!
I groan and toss the phone away from me. Wilson being so near is going to complicate things and my life is already complicated enough.
No matter how kind or considerate he is, Wilson will never see me. All I am is an incubator. Life will be much easier if I remember that.
Chapter Nine
Wilson
By the time I’m finished moving, it’s after eleven, and I decide not to bother Zora in case she’s sleeping. I didn’t lease this apartment so I could be a stalker, but I meant what I said. If there’s an emergency with her or the baby, I want to be nearby.
My tired limbs melt into the sofa. The silence, after the thud of boots, the squeal of furniture being dragged around and the chaos of voices, falls on my ears like a gentle rain.
The apartment is nice. Nicer than I expected. It’s small, a little run-down, but there’s enough
potential in here to work with. I’ve already sectioned off the master bedroom and the office. Which is really all I need to function.
My phone rings. For a minute, I debate ignoring it since my arms are too tired to move. When the ringing continues, I force myself to roll over and grab my cell from the nightstand.
A glance at the screen perks me up. It’s a video call from Kent.
“Will!” Kent’s smile is all I can see until he pulls the phone back. The camera reveals a pixelated version of his familiar face. “Sup, man?”
“Hey, I heard you’re coming back home.”
“Yeah. Paris is great, but there’s nothing like waking up in my own bed.”
I nod. Since I’ve been travelling more often—for the company and for personal reasons—I’ve developed a new appreciation for staying put, growing roots. Zora being pregnant has underlined that need for stability.
“Everything good?”
“Yeah. How about you?”
“My body’s already trained to recognize Amaya even if my mind isn’t, but it’s still hard. If she’s not beside me as soon as I open my eyes, it takes longer for me to remember her.”
“That sucks.”
“It’s harder on her than on me. She can’t even go to the bathroom without being afraid I’ll wake up while she’s gone. I hate being a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, Kent. Amaya loves you, and holding in her pee so you can wake up without panicking every morning isn’t something she’ll complain about.”
“Exactly. That woman never complains. I’m thinking of inventing a mind-reading machine so I can see what she really feels.”
“Please do. We’ll go down in history and be set for life.”
Kent chuckles. “Anyway, I called to check if you were home. Amaya and I were planning to stop by before we came back to Belize. Maybe stay a few days with you. If that’s okay.”
“What?”
Kent hikes an eyebrow. “We can stay with Aunt Katrina instead. We don’t want to put you out.”
“No.” I sit straight up. “It’s not that. It’s just… I’m in Belize.”
“Right now?” Kent glances around. “I knew that room looked strange, but I thought it was my memory acting up. Wait… why are you in Belize? Is something wrong?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, but something did happen.”
Kent licks his lips. “Well?”
“I’d rather tell you in person.”
“Now I’m worried.”
“Nothing to be worried about.” I shrug. “In fact, it might even be considered good news. Sort of.”
Kent narrows his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”
“Never.”
I did lie to Kent. Last year. He was suffering from depression and tried to hurt himself because of it. He wrote everything down in his journal, but I tore out the pages so he could wipe those painful memories from his mind.
I thought I was doing what was best, but I actually created a huge misunderstanding with Amaya. After that, I promised Kent I would never deceive him. It’s a vow I plan on keeping until the day I die.
Kent’s expression turns grave. “I’ll talk to Amaya. We’ll come straight home instead of stopping anywhere else.”
“No, don’t do that. Mom will love to see you.”
“We’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Kent—”
“Later, bro.” He hangs up.
I stare at the phone. Amaya’s rubbing off on him. I can’t remember the last time Kent hung up on me so dramatically.
A tired smile blooms. I lean my head back and stare at the ceiling. Violet’s face wafts into my mind, and no matter how hard I try to brush it away she’s stuck there. Like burr on socks.
I wonder if she’s still staring at Kent’s pictures. Loving him. Missing him.
I wonder if she’s found some other poor sap to have sex with so she can pretend, for however long it lasts, that her heart isn’t breaking.
It’s funny because I know exactly what she’s going through. That pain, that emptiness in the pit of the stomach—I feel it every day. Because of her.
And yet, there’s nothing either of us can do to change who our hearts have decided to love.
Kent’s a lucky guy. Violet was always there for him, with her arms wide open, whether he needed a friend, a chauffer, or a cheerleader. I watched her be, for my cousin, everything I wanted for myself.
Not that I’m bitter. I’ve never resented Kent for having Violet’s affection. He’s always treated her like a sister and nothing more, but even if he hadn’t, I know that Kent is the better man.
He’s been through hell, and he still wakes up every morning with determination and strength.
Maybe I should be grateful that my cross to bear is unrequited love rather than amnesia. I wouldn’t be half as composed if my memories were wiped every morning.
With these thoughts on my mind, I roll to my side and drift off to a fitful sleep.
What feels like moments later, I wake up to the sound of thudding on the door. My jaw snaps up as I survey the sunshine dancing into the room. The light exposes all the work that’s still to be done.
I stretch and crack my back. Ten years ago, sleeping in the couch wouldn’t have affected me, but I’m feeling the stiffness now.
“Wilson?” Another knock. “Are you up?”
I recognize Zora’s voice and jump to my feet. When I sprint outside, I see her already striding down the hall.
“Zora!” I follow her. “Did you need something?”
Her brown eyes find mine. She’s stunning in white scrubs. The simple design is loose over her slim frame, but the color contrasts her brown skin beautifully. Her hair is clipped into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her face is free of makeup, but Zora’s naturally pretty and it shows.
While I’m giving her a once-over, Zora’s doing her own appraisal of me. A smile plays on her lips and she reaches up to cup my cheek. At the slight touch, my body explodes with desire.
I shift so she can’t tell just how much she’s affected me. The problem with me and Zora has never been lack of attraction. We’ve got sexual chemistry in spades, which is why her edgy sarcasm turns me on.
But giving into my baser instincts just because I’m heartbroken over Violet isn’t the path I want to take. Especially since that method is what got us in this mess the first time.
Zora removes her hand and smiles fully, completely unaware of my thoughts. “Did you sleep in the couch?”
“How did you know?”
“The sofa left an imprint. Try sleeping in the bed next time.”
Unbidden, memories of her in bed slip into focus.
I clear my throat and glance at my watch. “You’re heading to work early.”
“I’ve got a twelve-hour shift so I need to get there before seven.”
“That sucks.”
“Nurses have it rough.”
I nod. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
“No.” Her gaze slides away. “Since you’re here early, I called the OB/GYN and checked if she was free tonight. I set the appointment for seven thirty. Will that work for you?”
I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you want.”
“Great. See you then.”
“Have a good day,” I call to her back and then cringe when all she does is give me a backward wave. As I head back inside, I rap my knuckles on my temple. “Have a good day? You couldn’t think of anything else to say?”
I beat myself up for a good portion of the morning and then throw the rest of my efforts into cleaning up the apartment so it’s livable. When I’m done, it’s almost time to pick Zora up from the hospital.
I shower, change and hop into the rental parked downstairs. Now that I’ll be in Belize for a while, I plan on buying a car, but I want Zora’s input since she’ll be in the passenger seat most of the time.
The hospital is near the apartment so I find it in no time. Instead of texting
Zora that I’m outside, I head inside the building. I’m assuming we’re seeing the OB/GYN here, so it will save her the trouble of walking all the way to the parking lot.
The hospital is filled with patients. They all stare at me as I pass by and I realize the fact that I’m white, tall and bearded might be the reason since most of the patients have dark skin and are shorter.
The woman behind the information desk watches me and smiles sweetly when I stop in front of her. “Can I help you, sir?”
“I’m looking for Zora King.”
“Zora?” Her eyes widen. “You don’t look like you’re related.” She scans me from the top of my head to my toes. “Zora, you said? May I ask what you want to see her for?”
“No, you may not, Gretchen.” A voice calls out. I glance over my shoulder and find Zora striding toward me, her hands steeped in her pockets. Tendrils of her dark hair fall over her face. When our eyes meet, I note the exhaustion in them. “What are you doing here?”
“Don’t we have an appointment now?”
“Right.” Zora slaps a hand over her forehead. “I completely forgot. Just let me sign out. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.”
As Zora scrambles away, the nurse behind the desk leans toward me. “Are you her new boyfriend?”
“I’m…” My mind goes blank. Something tells me Zora wouldn’t appreciate me advertising that she’s my baby’s mother. “We’re… involved.”
“Well, I’m glad. You look much nicer than the other guy.”
“What other guy?”
Gretchen preens. I get the sense that she lives for gossip. “No one knows his name, but every few months he’ll walk in here demanding to see Zora like he owns her. One time, I overheard them talking and it seemed like he was trying to apologize for cheating on her.”
“Really?”
She nods. “But then, a year later, he was back. It seemed very unhealthy to me, but who am I to judge?”
The gears in my head shift. “Can you do me a favor Gretchen?”
“Anything.” She flutters her lashes.
I slip my business card out of my pocket and hand it over. “Could you call me if you see that man hanging around again?”
“Why? Will you beat him up?”
