“What do you mean that’s it?”
“Let me ask you a question,” she countered. “How many people did you have to call before you got to me?”
I opened my mouth, but words failed me.
“Exactly,” she concluded before I had a chance to answer. “If it took you three days to narrow it down to me, you have way too much going on. And honestly, I don’t need that energy in my life. So, I did my due diligence by letting you know. But I’m in the middle of something so have a good night.”
“But—”
“Goodbye, Bradley.”
“Ja—”
The call had been disconnected before I could finish saying her name. The silence in the kitchen was deafening. I closed my eyes to try to collect my thoughts.
“Don’t say anything about this shit to anyone. Jamila doesn’t want anyone to know.” I opened my eyes and stared at Roman. “You can’t tell B.”
His face twisted angrily. “Nah, I don’t like that. I don’t keep secrets from my wife.”
“This isn’t your secret to tell, Ro. This isn’t even my secret to tell.”
He growled in frustration and stormed out the room. I shook my head and looked at Malik.
“I won’t say anything,” he assured me. “But wow, man… what are you going to do?”
My heart felt like it was going to beat right out of my chest. “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
*****
Chapter 3
“What are you doing?” Roman asked me from the phone that Malik was holding in his hand.
I knew I should’ve waited until I was on the road to tell them my plan. But I made the mistake of texting them on my lunch break that after two days of ignoring my calls, I was going to Jamila’s house to talk to her. They’d given me a bunch of reasons not to go. When I told them I’d made up my mind and that I was going after work, Malik showed up to my place with Roman on speaker phone in order to convince me not to do it.
“I’ve already told you what I’m doing. I’m going to her place to talk to her,” I explained again as I put my duffle bag on the floor of my passenger side.
“If she isn’t trying to talk to you on the phone, why would you just show up to her home?” Malik asked. “How do you think this is going to play out for you?”
“She said she wasn’t feeling your friendship and she doesn’t want to talk to you, so she damn sure doesn’t want to see you,” Roman pointed out. “And what the hell am I supposed to say when Jamila calls B and tells her that my homie just showed up at her house like a fucking stalker?”
I turned around roughly. “This isn’t about you or B! This is about me!” I snapped.
“We’re just worried about you and about how this whole thing will play out,” Malik pacified.
I climbed in my silver Jaguar F-Type but didn’t close the door yet. “Jamila doesn’t want her parents to know yet. She doesn’t want anyone to know yet. So, she’s not going to call B. She’s not answering my calls, but I texted her and told her I was coming. So, it’s not like I’m popping up on her unannounced.”
Malik gave me a resigned look. “Just looking out for you man.”
“I get it. But I’ve already decided what I’m going to do. It’ll be what it is.”
He nodded. “It’ll be what it is.”
“I just don’t—” Roman’s voice was interrupted when Malik took him off speaker phone.
“Do what you need to do,” Malik told me, extending his fist until I bumped it. “Let us know how it plays out.”
I nodded, slamming my door shut.
With my music turned up, I drove two hours and fifteen minutes to Jamila Lee’s house. Situated in the cozy suburbs of Richland, Maryland, her house was bigger than I was expecting.
“Does she live alone?” I muttered aloud as I pulled into the driveway behind her red luxury sedan.
The vanity plate said ‘J-Mila’ so I knew I had the right place. But I wasn’t sure if she was home or not.
Or if she’s alone.
Grabbing my bag, I hoisted the strap over my shoulder. Pulling out my cell phone, I called her as I walked to the front door. She didn’t answer. I called again as I knocked.
Bradley Simon: I’m outside. Please answer your door.
The door swung open a minute later. “Are you kidding me?” Jamila groaned with a shake of her head.
“Can I come in? Please,” I pleaded with her, my hands together in prayer. “Please. I just want to talk to you.”
She crossed her arms under her chest. The movement pushed her breasts up in the black silk tank top and I did everything in my power not to watch. I kept my eyes focused on her face and the longer I stared at her, the more she glared.
She is gorgeous, I thought.
Even as she scowled at me in silence, there was something undeniable about her. It was the flawlessness of her caramel skin and the way her full lips seemed to be in a perpetual pout. It was the fire that was in her dark brown eyes and the softness of her long, thick hair that refused to be completely straight. It was the perfect smile that made her entire face glow. And it was definitely the way her rounded hips were only a preview of the ass she carried behind her. Her breasts were beautiful, but her ass was perfect. And I was unable to resist her.
Rolling her eyes, she sighed and took a step back. “Fine.”
“Thank you.” I walked in.
After she closed the door behind me, she pointed to the corner. “Take your shoes off here please.”
I took off my sneakers and placed them next to a similar pair in a smaller size. “I see we have the same taste in shoes.”
“I noticed.”
From her tone, I knew the conversation probably wasn’t going to go the way I’d hoped.
She pointed at my bag. “You can leave that there, too.”
I dropped my duffle next to my shoes. Following her down the hallway, I passed a living room and a dining room. I barely looked around because I couldn’t stop staring at her ass in those black silk pajama pants.
When we entered the brightly lit kitchen, she glanced back at me. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yes, thank you.” I ripped my eyes from her body and pretended I was looking around. “This place is nice, Jamila.”
“Thanks.” She went to the refrigerator. “Lemonade okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.”
She handed it to me and then took a seat at the breakfast bar where she had a plate of fruit. Staring at me, she ate the pineapple that was on the fork. She chewed it and after she swallowed, she cleared her throat. “What’s up?”
I sat down next to her at the other end of the bar, leaving a seat between us. “What’s up?” I repeated incredulously. “I’m here to find out what’s up with you!”
She nodded slowly. “Like I told you on the phone, I’m pregnant.”
Don’t say is it mine. Don’t say is it mine. Don’t say is it mine.
“And it’s mine?” I blurted out and then kicked myself as I watched her expression.
She gripped her fork, and I could see that the thought of stabbing me with it crossed her mind.
I lifted my hands. “I just mean—”
“Oh no,” she interrupted. “I know exactly what you mean.” She put down the fork and blotted her mouth with a napkin. “You have me all the way fucked up if you think you’re going to come into my home—uninvited, mind you—and question my integrity. Unlike you, I didn’t need to run through a list of who it could be. So, to answer your question, yes, I’m sure it’s yours. And now, you can get out of my house.”
I immediately felt like shit. “I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry now. You reacted exactly like someone like you would. I knew who you were when I met you. And I for damn sure knew who you were when I ran into you a few months ago. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’d drive all this way to ask me if it’s yours.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant,” I backtracked quic
kly. “I was just wondering how… I mean, I know we used protection every time and we were…careful. How did this happen?”
“You know condoms aren’t infallible, right?”
I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m fucking up. Can I please start over? Because this is coming out of nowhere and I’m just trying to… I don’t know. I want to understand. Please. I’m not questioning your integrity, Jamila. I’m just trying to wrap my mind around everything. It’s a lot,” I admitted. “I don’t mean any disrespect. I really don’t.”
Picking up her fork, she stabbed a green grape and ate it quietly. Seconds turned to minutes. The fact that she didn’t mention kicking me out again was a positive sign. But the silence was killing me.
“When did you find out you were pregnant?” I asked quietly.
She stabbed another grape. “Five weeks ago.”
“How far along are you?”
“Thirteen weeks.”
“When did you decide you weren’t going to tell me?”
“Five weeks ago.”
“Why?”
She made a face. “Look at how you’ve responded.”
“Well, what made you change your mind?”
“Once I made peace with my decision, I thought you deserved to know even though you didn’t need to be a part of it.”
“Why would you assume I didn’t want to be part of it?”
“Again, look at how you’ve responded,” Jamila replied.
I ran my hands through my hair. “Look, you’ve had five weeks to process all of this. I’ve had five days. And most of that time, you weren’t talking to me,” I explained, throwing my hands in the air. “And I wasn’t asking you if it was mine to be disrespectful. I was asking just to be sure before I invested any feelings into what you were saying.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “Okay.”
“I’m serious. Fuck”—I gestured toward her— “you could have any man you wanted so it wasn’t a slight against you. I just wanted clarity. I just wanted to make sure.”
She ate more fruit, seeming to consider what I was saying. “Okay.” There wasn’t the same bite to her tone. “Well, asked and answered. I’m carrying your child. You’re the only person I slept with in the timeframe I conceived. Okay?”
“Okay.” I stared at her. “This is wild.”
She rolled her eyes. “My thoughts exactly.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Yeah.”
“Well I’m here for you. Whatever you need,” I told her.
Her brows furrowed. “That’s not necessary. Like I told you, I wanted you to know for informational purposes. You don’t need to do”—she waved her fork in my direction— “whatever this is.”
“I’m not doing anything, but letting you know that I’m here. I got you. I showed up here because you’re pregnant and you just… stopped talking to me.”
“I let you off the hook,” she clarified.
“What if I don’t want to be let off the hook?”
Jamila ate the strawberry and then put the fork down as she chewed. Turning toward me on her stool, she crossed her legs. “Bradley, this baby was completely unplanned, but I am in a place in my life where I’m ready for this. I’m thirty-four and I can take care of myself. I don’t need someone like you playing games, you know? This is my life and I like my life a certain kind of way.”
I was offended, but I wasn’t exactly sure why. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re not exactly the type someone plans to have a baby with. You’re sexy and fun. You’re a good time. Isn’t that how you described our time together?”
I licked my lips but said nothing.
She continued, “At Bianca’s bachelorette party, a month before I even met you, I was warned to look out for Easy at the wedding and that Easy has a sexy charm. I was told that you were a good friend, but they would never hook you up with anyone they care about because you don’t commit.” She put her hand on her stomach. “This is a commitment.”
Hearing her thoughts on me and how my reputation preceded me was powerful and it stung. But as she spoke, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from hers.
“You don’t really know me,” I replied, silently wishing most of what she’d said wasn’t true.
“You’re right. I don’t know you. But I don’t do someone running in and out of my life and I won’t have that for my kid either. I don’t have time for a lot of back and forth. I don’t do drama or bullshit. And I’m not saying that you are all drama and bullshit, but I am saying that sleeping with a bunch of random women creates drama and if you’re lying to any of them about what the future could be, that’s bullshit.”
I inhaled sharply. “I’m direct and honest about who I am all the time. I don’t lie to get what I want.”
“So am I. And that’s why I’m letting you off the hook. This is a commitment that I want.” She patted her belly. “I want this. It isn’t the way I planned it, but everything happens for a reason and I’m playing the cards that life dealt me.”
“A baby doesn’t just affect you, Jamila. It affects both of us.”
“It doesn’t have to.” She lifted her shoulders. “And from what I know of you, it may be easier if it didn’t.”
“I’m not going to have a child out here that I don’t know and that I don’t take care of.”
“And this is what you want?” she questioned.
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What’s done is done.”
We were both quiet as she eyed me suspiciously.
“Like I said, you don’t know me,” I reiterated.
“And you don’t know me,” she returned. “So again, I’m letting you know that it’s okay to not be involved. You don’t have to change your life because we made a mistake. And I’m not saying that’s all you’re about. I’m just saying that it took a while for you to figure out who could possibly be texting you that they’re pregnant with your kid.”
She is not going to let that go, I see.
“Jamila, I understand that you only know me in one way. But I’ve never been in this situation before so don’t base how I would be with this”—I gestured to her stomach— “on the limited amount you know of me.”
“I hear what you’re saying. And I’m telling you, if this isn’t what you want, leave me to do it on my own. I’m more than capable.”
“I have no doubt. But this is my kid, too. So, if you’re having this baby, we’re having this baby.”
She sat up a little, still holding my gaze. “Hm.” She bit down on her bottom lip. “What do you want, Bradley? To co-parent?”
“I want you to get to know me and allow me the opportunity to get to know you. Let’s start there.”
She tore her eyes from mine. “Fine.”
A smile pulled at my lips. “Fine.”
She looked at the clock, just as it moved past eight o’clock. “What hotel did you book?”
“I haven’t yet. It’s Friday night. I wasn’t completely sure you’d be home.”
She rolled her eyes. “You drove up here with nowhere to stay? You know there’s a big festival happening this weekend, right?”
I frowned. There was a lot more traffic than I anticipated, but I didn’t realize it was for the inaugural East Coast Music Festival. I was so caught up in the pregnancy that I forgot about any and everything else. “That’s this weekend?”
She nodded. “Yeah. And it’s cheaper to stay out here than it is to stay downtown so these fill up quickly.” She speared her last piece of fruit before standing and taking her plate to the dishwasher. “I’m about to watch a movie. You can stay here if you’d like.”
I smiled at the back of her head. “I’d like that.”
“I’ll show you to the guest room,” she offered, walking across the room.
I was glad she had her back to me. I recoiled hard and pulled a face. Guest room?
*****
Chapter 4
After
Jamila gave me a tour of her three-bedroom suburban home, I dropped my bag off in the guest room and took a shower.
“I’m about to press play,” she yelled from the living room.
I headed downstairs in a pair of grey sweatpants. I had my shirt in my hand, but I didn’t put it on yet. I was desperate to get in her good graces and I knew she would have a hard time resisting me if she could preview the things I knew for a fact she liked about me.
“Ugh! Put on a shirt,” she huffed as soon as I walked in the room.
My eyebrows flew up as I quickly pulled on the white t-shirt.
Well damn. That didn’t go as planned.
“I was going to,” I mumbled. “I just was rushing because you said you were about to start the movie.
She gave me a side eye until I was fully dressed and sitting on the other end of the couch.
“What?” I feigned confusion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I know what you’re trying to do.” Turning her head toward the TV, she picked up the remote and hit play. “It’s not going to work.”
Fifteen minutes into the thriller, we were both on the edge of our seats.
“The husband did it,” she commented.
It was the first thing she said to me since the movie started. I looked over at her and while she was staring at the screen, I took in the spread of her nose, the fullness of her lips, the sharpness of her cheekbones, and the curvature of her neck and shoulders. The thin strap that kept her top on her beautiful body had fallen off her shoulder and I couldn’t stop thinking about how that thin piece of silk shielded her bare breasts from my eyes.
“You don’t agree?” she wondered, pulling me from thoughts that made my dick rock hard.
I adjusted myself as I stared at the screen. “No, I think they want us to believe it’s the husband. I think it’s the best friend.”
She scoffed. “The best friend was with her when she got the first phone call.”
“Yeah, but did you notice how she went to the bathroom a few minutes before the phone call came in? She could’ve called someone. I think she set the whole thing up. Something about the way she moved… I don’t trust it.”
Heartless (Heartache) Page 5
