by Briana Cole
“But I know you work late a lot,” Dorian pointed out. “Especially lately with the merger.”
“Well, she’ll have you there too.”
Dorian didn’t want to express how worried he was about that little arrangement. Not so much worried about Reagan, but about his damn self. How the hell could he resist this woman when she roamed where he ate, slept, and showered?
A nurse returned this time and ushered them back into another waiting room. This one was not as crowded and even had a little children’s play area. “You will have to go in one at a time,” the nurse, a young Hispanic woman, was saying as she handed each of them a visitor’s badge. “She is awake and somewhat responsive.”
“Can one of us spend the night so she doesn’t have to be alone?” Shantae asked.
The nurse nodded. “That would be a good idea. I’ll confirm with the doctor if it’s okay.”
They each took turns going back to see Reagan. Shantae went first, then Barbara. While each of them rotated in, Dorian sat in the play area, putting together puzzles with TJ. He seemed too preoccupied to know or even care what was going on with his mother down the hall. One of the joys of childhood: ignorance.
Dorian waited until Charles had returned from Reagan’s room before standing up to stretch. “I’m just going to show my face,” he told Shantae. “Then we can go.”
“I’ll probably just stay here for the night and have you come back and get me tomorrow.”
Dorian nodded before turning to walk down the hall. He didn’t know why he was nervous. A nauseated feeling settled in his gut, and part of him felt he should’ve skipped the visitation altogether. The other part had him still moving forward, his sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.
He paused outside her room. He really didn’t know what to expect, but he felt compelled to see her, if only just to make sure she was all right. That’s what he kept telling himself as he pushed the door open.
Reagan looked frail under the hospital sheets. Bandages were wrapped around each wrist and an IV dripped what Dorian assumed was pain medicine into her arm. The quiet hum and whir of machines buzzed from monitors on the side of the bed, in tune with the steady rise and fall of Reagan’s breasts.
At the sound of the door opening, Reagan’s head turned in Dorian’s direction. She forced a thin smile. “I wondered if you were going to make it back here to see me,” she said.
Dorian’s movements were slow as he walked toward the side of the bed. He wasn’t used to seeing her so . . . weak. Not the strong, dominating Reagan he knew. “How you feeling?” he asked, stopping a few steps away from the bed.
Reagan sighed and closed her eyes. “Sore. But better now that you’re here.”
Dorian ignored the comment. “Your sister said she wanted to stay with you tonight.” He figured she would appreciate the news, but he was surprised when Reagan sucked her teeth.
“Whatever,” she mumbled, opening her eyes again. She reached in his direction. “You can come closer. I promise I won’t bite you, Dorian.”
Dorian hesitated but took her hand and took a step closer, allowing his hip to rest on the side of the railing.
“Just ask me,” Reagan said, when he just continued to stare. “Go ahead.”
“Why did you do it?”
“The truth? Because of you.”
Dorian frowned. He had honestly expected the confession, but that didn’t make it any less shocking. “You don’t mean that,” he murmured at a loss for words.
Reagan laced her fingers with his and kept her gaze steady. All traces of humor had completely faded. “Dorian, I have loved you for years. Ever since Shantae started bringing you around. I know I was just a teenager then, but I’m grown now, and I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.” Dorian tried to pull his hand away, but Reagan held tighter. “I know it’s wrong and I know there is no way we can be together, but please, Dorian. After what we’ve shared, I can’t just go back to being your ‘lil sis.’ I’m not asking for much. Just a little time every once in a while. I promise it stays between us, and we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
This time, Dorian did pull his hand away and ran a hand over his face. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was in a hospital surrounded by machines and patients needing oxygen, he would have pulled out a cigarette.
“I thought you were leaving the other day. What happened?” He was partially stalling, but also genuinely curious.
“I couldn’t leave you,” Reagan admitted. “I wanted to, but I just couldn’t get on that plane. You were right. I have nothing to go to in Dallas. Everything I want, everything I need, is right here.”
“Is that why you did this?” Dorian asked, tossing a frustrated gesture toward her bandaged arm. “You slit your fucking wrists because, what? You remembered I’m married to your sister?”
Reagan lowered her eyes as tears seeped from her lids and glistened on her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Please don’t be mad at me, baby. I just . . . I don’t know. When you told me you had just had sex with her when we were texting, something in me snapped and I just got so sad. I can’t explain it. I promise it won’t happen again. Please,” she added, when Dorian remained quiet. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”
Dorian shook his head. “No, Reagan, I can’t agree to this. I’m not doing this to my wife. I love her.”
“But you told me you loved me too.”
“Reagan.” Dorian struggled to remain calm, but he could feel his irritation increasing with each passing second. Maybe Roman was right. She did have some mental issues. “You know that was in the heat of the moment. And you told me to.”
“So, you really didn’t mean it?”
“You know I didn’t.”
“Yeah. I know.” Reagan’s sigh was heavy. “I understand. I guess I just don’t see what there is for me to live for, then.”
Dorian’s blood chilled at the subtle threat. “What do you mean you don’t see what there is for you to live for? What about your family? What about TJ? You’re his mother.”
Reagan remained quiet, her eyes focused on the tiled ceiling above her head. Her face seemed glazed over like she was in some kind of trance.
Dorian stepped to her side again, his tone softer. “Reagan, please, just . . . don’t do anything stupid again. Promise me.”
Now she did look at him. “Can I have a kiss goodbye?”
“Reagan, please . . . just stop it.”
“Promise me you’ll think about what I said, and you have my word. I won’t do anything stupid.”
Dorian swallowed. If it meant keeping her safe, he didn’t see the harm in promising to consider her absurd proposition. It didn’t mean he had to act on it. His nod was slight, but Reagan’s smile deepened, letting him know he had apparently appeased her. For now.
Chapter Sixteen
“What’s all this?” Dorian entered the break room and spotted the catered lunch from a local BBQ food truck. Claudia had already laid out the spread of pulled pork, chicken, potato salad, baked beans, and Texas toast.
Claudia grinned, handing him a paper plate. “Remember I told you Ms. Davis said she would buy us lunch after you did your consultation with her?”
Dorian’s frown was replaced with a light chuckle. “I thought she was joking. She really didn’t have to do this. Can you please send her a thank-you card?”
“Will do. And,” she added, “she told me to tell you she left her unappreciative-ass husband. Her words, not mine.”
Dorian couldn’t help but laugh. “Good for her. In that case, send her a congratulatory card too with a little gift card so she can treat herself.”
Claudia pulled a two-liter of Coke from the refrigerator. “You okay?” she asked at her boss’s continued silence. “You seem a bit distracted lately. Anything I can do?”
It was true. Even still, Dorian shook his head. “Just family issues,” he admitted. Reagan’s attempted suicide was still heavy on his he
art. Nor did he know what to make of her little request. So far, she hadn’t brought it up again. But he would’ve been a fool to believe she would just drop it. Not after he had seen the great lengths she had gone in order to get his attention.
“Your mom okay?” Claudia’s eyes rounded in concern. She knew about his mother’s prognosis just like everyone else.
“Yes, she’s fine. Doing as well as can be expected.” He hated he hadn’t been back to McDonough to visit her in a while, so he was really just quoting Rochelle’s words at that point. Even with the Reagan situation sucking all of his time and energy, he knew it was no excuse. He needed to remember his priorities and stop letting that girl get him off his game.
“Well you need to un-distract yourself,” Claudia said. “Don’t you have surgery this afternoon?”
He did. A tummy tuck. He’d done the procedure so many times he was sure he could so it with his eyes closed. But still.
“I’m focused,” Dorian assured her. “Just need to get some food in my system and then I’m heading over to the hospital. I’ll be fine.”
Claudia nodded and gave his arm a light pat. “By the way, your sister called this morning. You were in a post-op visit.”
Dorian grimaced and struggled to keep from rolling his eyes. Yeah, he knew she had called. He had three missed calls on his cell phone too. “Thanks,” he said. “Why don’t you go get Pam so we can all dig in before this food gets cold.”
“And before Kenny brings his greedy tail up here,” she added.
A bell chimed, signaling someone had entered the office. Claudia sighed and rolled her eyes. “Too late,” she whispered. As if on cue, Pam poked her head in the break room.
“If that’s Kenny, you can send him on back,” Dorian said forking some potato salad onto his plate. “I figured he could smell this food all the way down in his office.”
Pam giggled. “No, sir, it’s a Myles Washington here to see you. He’s not on the appointment calendar.”
Funny how quickly he could lose his appetite. Dorian felt a bubbling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t been avoiding Myles so much as he had been “conveniently” busy every time his number flashed on the phone. But he had never come to the office before.
“Um, okay. You can send him back to my office. I’m coming.”
He didn’t mean to stall, but he purposely took his time collecting more food on his plate, even washing a few of the serving utensils that had collected in the sink. Dorian knew this wasn’t a social call, so he was anxious to hear what Myles had to say. Chances are it was all about Reagan. Even though Roman had told him to, Dorian still hadn’t mentioned to Myles just why Reagan was in the hospital. He figured he would leave that up to her.
By the time he made it back to his office, Myles was already waiting staring out at the magnificent Atlanta view outside his window. By the looks of the dusty jeans, Timberland boots, and hard hat, it was clear he had just come from one of his work sites. Myles owned a construction company, so it was not unlike him to be dressed down.
Dorian hesitated for the briefest of moments at the door before he entered. Might as well get it over with. “Hey, Myles,” he greeted, circling his desk with his lunch in hand.
Myles turned around, his face neutral. “What’s up?” He noticed the food. “Oh, my bad. I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch.”
“You’re fine. A patient brought it in. You’re welcome to some if you’re hungry. There’s enough.”
Myles shook his head. “I’m good.”
“So, what brings you over here?”
Myles gestured to the window. “I’m working right across the street at that SunTrust building,” he said. “And I wanted to stop by to see had you talked to Reagan.”
Dorian took a bite of his chicken sandwich, chewing to delay while he thought of an appropriate answer. “You haven’t talked to her?” he asked.
“Nah, man. I’ve called a few times. She keeps sending me to voice mail. I’ve been trying to check on her because she called with some bullshit about she didn’t think she deserved to live anymore. I’m worried as hell. And I’ve been calling Roman to see what he could find out, but you know he ain’t saying shit.”
Dorian relaxed. Of course, he was just concerned. That was to be expected. He wondered why Reagan wouldn’t just tell him instead of stringing him along. But again, that wasn’t his place either.
“She’s fine,” he assured her. “She’s at the house with me and Shantae until she finds her own spot.”
Myles seemed visibly relieved by the news. “Well, shit, why didn’t she just tell me that? She could’ve come to stay with me.”
Dorian shrugged. Yeah, he would’ve liked that better too.
“Well, what happened? Did she say?” Myles pressed.
“Nah,” Dorian lied without even thinking about it. “But you know that’s family stuff. The main thing is that she’s fine. Shantae is going to look out for her sister.”
Myles nodded. He looked as if he wanted to say something else but didn’t quite know how.
Dorian noticed the conflicting emotions playing on his face. “What?” he questioned.
“And you haven’t talked to her?” Myles asked. “She ain’t saying nothing to you about me?”
Dorian didn’t like how strangely he posed the question. What is he getting at? “I mean, we talk in passing,” he said, carefully. “I told you she lives at the house, so it’s not like I don’t see her. But other than that, you know I’ve been working . . .” He trailed off, still unsure if that was what Myles wanted to know.
Myles’s eyes dropped to Dorian’s cell phone resting on his desk. “I just don’t get why she’s not answering my calls,” he murmured almost to himself. He angled his wrist to glance at his watch and then turned to head for the door. “Can you tell her to call me when you see her this evening?” he asked.
“Yeah. No problem.”
“I appreciate it.” Then he was gone.
Dorian frowned after him, not really sure what to make of the visit. Something was definitely on Myles’s mind. He acted as if he were fishing for something. But what?
Dorian looked at his phone and saw he had another missed call. And it was Reagan’s number and picture displayed on his lock screen.
Chapter Seventeen
Dorian sighed, watching his wife’s head bobbing under the sheet. She felt good. Damn good actually. But for some reason, he just wasn’t feeling it. He never thought there would be a time that a woman, especially his wife, couldn’t please him. Maybe it was because Reagan was in the next room. Maybe it was because he wasn’t sure if she could hear their sexual trysts.
How messed up was his life? He couldn’t enjoy sex with his wife because he didn’t want to make her sister jealous.
“Babe, it’s cool,” Dorian said, resting his hand on Shantae’s head. “I think I’m just tired.”
Shantae looked up, her face creased in irritation. “Tired?” she echoed, doubtfully.
“Yeah. It’s been a long week.” It wasn’t really a lie. Work had been stressful enough, but it had damn sure been an exhausting week, trying to keep his distance from Reagan.
Of course she had taken Shantae up on her offer to move in after she was discharged from the hospital. She hadn’t gotten in Dorian’s way too much, except for the occasional body rub when they passed in the hall or the skimpy-ass clothes she wore around the house.
Dorian had caught himself watching her getting dressed once when she had left her door cracked. Thankfully, Shantae had come home from work and he had rushed back into his bedroom before either of them caught him.
Dorian hated having Reagan in the house. Mainly because he knew now more than before that it was only a matter of time before he was sexing her down again.
More than anything, she was always dialing his phone even though she never wanted anything. “I just wanted to hear your voice,” she would coo in the phone. “You act like you’re ignoring me at home.” Thing is,
she was right. And though the numerous calls could be misconstrued, she had managed to keep them clean and platonic for now.
Shantae rose from Dorian’s lap, letting the sheets pool at her legs. She hadn’t bothered changing out of her work clothes, so her white silk blouse was disheveled and her pin-striped slacks were around her knees, exposing the lace thong Dorian loved. Her hair was now standing over her head where Dorian had been running desperate fingers through it, guiding her pace.
“Well, I don’t know what the problem is,” she said. “What? You don’t find me attractive anymore or something, Dorian?” She got to her feet and began undressing.
“Baby, you know that’s not true.” And it wasn’t. Shantae still was as beautiful as ever, with her slim frame. But she was no Reagan. And he hated himself every time he compared the two.
“Yeah, whatever.” Shantae was now completely naked and she strutted into the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announced. “Can you order a pizza or something, because I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Sure.”
“Just get enough for us,” she added. “Reagan said something about going out tonight.”
Dorian was glad Shantae was in the bathroom so she couldn’t see his instinctive frown. “Out?” he echoed.
Shantae’s voice was drowned out by the running water, so whatever she said, he didn’t hear. Dorian got up and slid on some sweats and a T-shirt before making his way to the bedroom down the hall. It was closed, so he knocked lightly.
“Come in,” Reagan called from the other side.
He opened the door and caught her standing in the full-length mirror. She was certainly going out, judging by the cream turtleneck sweater dress she wore. Like all of her garments, it hugged her curves just right and stopped at her knees to give way to the camel knee-length heeled boots. She had accessorized with gold hoops, bangles, and a pendant, and she had let her curls hang wild and untamed at her shoulders. She looked damn good, and the smile at Dorian’s expression was evidence that she knew it too.
