by Tina Martin
His lips curved into a smile as he accepted her handshake. “Deal.”
“And please, call me Savannah. Ms. Ellsworth sounds so…ancient.”
He laughed. “Okay, Savannah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, then chewed on her lip.
_________
He couldn’t resist any longer. He had to check his phone. Grasping it into his palm, he saw that she’d called too many times to count and left plenty of messages. He heard her teary voice in the first message say:
Please call me back, Harding. Please.
The second message came one minute after the first one:
I don’t want this to be over. I love you and you know how complicated this is for me. I want a life with you. I want a family with you. Harding, please don’t do this to us. Please, don’t.
The sound of her voice – the distortion, the sadness – made his heart feel more pain than actually taking off his wedding ring and leaving it there at her house. But if he didn’t take a stand, didn’t move on right now, he probably never would. The marriage, the relationship had grown toxic. Red flags he should’ve seen in the beginning were now bigger flags – ones he could see clear as day, but in the beginning, when relationships are just starting out, a person has a tendency to overlook those warning signs. He’d been guilty of it:
Harding returned to her office the next day to find her sitting behind her computer, on the phone, probably with a client. He stood at the door for a moment, thinking that the pink blouse she had on went well with her luscious brown skin tone.
She glanced up, saw him and threw up her index finger, then waved him on inside. Wrapping up the call, she looked at him and made the gesture with her hands that whoever she was talking to was a yapper and she was trying her best to end the phone conversation.
He smiled. He didn’t know why he got a kick out of watching her work or wanting to help her coordinate her life and get her weaned off of Post-Its, but here he was, and for some reason, he couldn’t explain, he liked being here.
“Sorry about that,” she said hanging up the phone. “My client is quite loquacious.”
“Hey, they pay the bills. Sometimes you have to let them vent.”
“You’re right about that,” she said. She looked him up and down. Today, he had on a pair of light blue jeans and a red and black chambray shirt. He looked rugged and yet still had a business feel to him – not all stuck up like those stiff attorneys who always clamored for her attention. “Why are you standing there with your hands in your pockets? Come on over here and show me a thing or two.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, feeling his gut clench when she stood up. She had on another hip hugging skirt – a cream colored one with matching shoes. And she smelled delicious, probably had on some expensive perfume he couldn’t pronounce. He took her seat and placed his large hand on her computer mouse. After finding her calendar, he was surprised to see a full schedule of meetings. Every day for the entire month, there were meetings booked – the only exception being weekend days.
“I thought you said you didn’t use your calendar,” he said looking up at her.
“I don’t,” she replied, resting her forearm on his firm shoulder to get a better look at the computer screen. “Those are all meetings.”
“Set up by you?” he questioned. It was then he realized how close her face was to his.
She glanced at his lips and automatically licked hers. “Yeah. I set up some of them. My paralegal does the majority of them, though. Oh, and I can’t forget my father’s secretary. She goes nuts setting up meetings for the most ridiculous reasons.”
Harding chuckled. “Is that right?”
“It is,” Savannah said, standing straight up again. “Once, she set up a meeting for us to remind her when we noticed the toilet paper and paper towels were getting low in the restrooms.”
“She could’ve sent that in an email.”
Savannah slapped Harding on the shoulder with the back side of her hand. “That’s what I said. I like you already.”
“Hey, dear, are you joining us for lunch?” her father asked, peeping around the door of her office. “Oh, I thought you’d finished up in here yesterday, Harding?”
“Yes, um—”
“I asked him to do something for me,” Savannah said, cutting Harding off.
“Is there a problem?” Alistair asked.
“No, Dad. Everything’s peachy. Just something I needed.”
“So, are you coming to lunch with the team?”
“No. I’m meeting Jemisha for lunch today.”
“Oh. Well, tell her I said hello.”
“I will.” When her father walked away, she said, “Sorry about that. My parents like to monitor my every move.”
“That must be a pain.”
“You have no idea.”
He smiled then said, “Let me see your cell phone, and if it’s locked, unlock it for me, please.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said giving him a salute.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did, but it’s cool. I like a take-charge kind of man. Looks like you and I are going to get along just fine, Harding.”
_________
He sighed heavily. She’d allowed her parents to control her life back then, and they were doing the same thing now. What would be the point of going back to Charleston to undo what he’d done? He’d still be unhappy. Still miserable, waiting for their lives to begin. Waiting for the day when she was no longer afraid of her uppity parents and what they thought of her.
Don’t go back, Harding. It’ll be the same ol’ problem. You may as well just let it go. Let her go.
He started the car and reluctantly continued the remainder of his journey home.
Chapter 6
With tears in her eyes, Savannah cried on the phone with her friend Jemisha. “He actually broke up with me.”
“What?”
“He’s gone, Jemisha. He left his ring here and all…said he couldn’t do it anymore.”
“I’m so sorry, Savannah. I’ll come over there and sit with you for a little while.”
Savannah sniffled. “No. I’m a mess. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”
“No. I don’t want company. I just want to be miserable. All by myself.” Tears steadily streamed down her face.
“What happened exactly?”
Savannah blew her nose. “Two weeks ago, I saw Harding.”
“Where? At the hotel you always meet him at?”
“Yes. There. He told me then that if I didn’t tell my parents I was married to him, he was breaking it off. I knew he was tired of waiting, Jemisha, but I didn’t think he would actually leave me.”
“Girl, I don’t think you need to panic. He’s probably just frustrated.”
“You’re right. He is frustrated, but he’s also serious. He said he was going to file for divorce.”
“Then you know what you have to do, Savannah. Tell your parents about him. Stop keeping him a secret for goodness sakes and tell them.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid they won’t approve of him. How do you think that’s going to make him feel if they don’t approve of him?”
“Honestly, I don’t think he cares. I know I wouldn’t. He cares about you, but you’re too caught up with what your parents think of you. Gosh, Savannah. All your life you’ve been their puppet. Aren’t you tired of them controlling your every move?”
“You don’t understand, Jemisha, and you won’t understand until you’ve lived it. My parents aren’t like your parents. They will write me off and pretend I don’t exist if I don’t play by their rules.”
“Okay, you have a man who loves you. Walk away from your parents. Make a life with Harding.”
“I shouldn’t have to choose between my husband and my family.”
“You’re right. You shouldn�
��t have to, but unfortunately, this is what it’s come down to, Savannah.”
Savannah covered her eyes with her hands again. It’s ironic how when relationships end, you find yourself thinking about the better times and how good things used to be in the beginning. She remembered the first time she and Harding actually went out:
“Sorry we had to drive all the way over here to Mt. Pleasant,” Savannah said. “I can’t risk running into anyone who knows my parents.”
“It’s fine,” Harding told her, glancing at the menu.
“I’ll give you some gas money if you need it.”
He looked up at her. “I don’t need gas money. I’m no Benz-whippin’ lawyer, but I can afford a tank of gas.”
“I guess you can with that geeky stuff you do for a living, huh?”
He smiled. “Exactly. I’ve turned my skills into a business. I have my own business back in Wilmington.”
“Wow. Dad found you from Wilmington? You must be the real deal.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Wilmington is like six hours from here. Dad could’ve easily hired a company in Charleston to do the work.”
“True, but your pops wanted the best, so he hired me.”
A smile slowly appeared on her face. She liked the confidence in him. Returning her attention to the menu, she decided she would order the mandarin salad.
He kept it simple and ordered a cheeseburger and fries.
“I hope my father reimbursed you for your travel.”
“He did. He paid me well and put me up at The Charleston Hotel and Resort in downtown.”
“Nice,” she said. “How long are you staying?”
“I have two more days of work, then I’m back home.”
“Oh.” She felt a loss, although she tried not to appear disappointed. She wouldn’t mind if Harding stuck around a lil’ longer so they could get to know each other.
When the food arrived and they’d tasted their meals, Harding asked, “How is it—you know—working for your parents?”
She growled.
He laughed.
She giggled too and said, “Okay, it’s not all that bad, but my parents just make it difficult with their watchful eyes on me. I can hardly make a move without them asking me where I’m going or what I’m doing. It’s like they’re scared I’m going to make a mistake and do something to knock them off of the pedestal they jumped on.”
“That’s normal, I guess. Our parents want us to succeed in life. It’s only natural.”
“True enough, but they can’t referee my every move. Besides, they watch me like a hawk because they don’t want me to do anything to make them look bad. It’s not like they’re trying to protect me. It’s more about protecting themselves and their image.”
“So, they don’t let you go on dates? That’s why we had to drive clear across town?”
“Um…something like that.”
His brows lifted. “And you put up with that?”
“Well, I’ll put it like this…they don’t want me to go on dates with other men—just the man they’ve chosen for me. They want me to date him, but he’s totally not my type.”
“And who is your type? Are you one of those prim and proper girls who like bad boys?”
“No. Not really. I like real men. A man who isn’t afraid to work for what he wants.”
“I see.”
“Like you, Harding. You’re my type.”
He held her gaze for a moment, then said, “You barely know me.”
“I know I like you. I know we’re attracted to each other and I know I haven’t felt an attraction with anyone the way I feel one with you.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“And what do you suppose we do about that given our situation and all? I live in another state.”
She shrugged. “We can talk on the phone and get to know each other better.”
“Being completely transparent with you, I don’t think I’d be good at a long distance situation,” he said.
“Why not? We haven’t even given it a try yet.”
He took a sip of soda and said, “You’re forthcoming, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“Is that how all you attorneys are?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know. I just like what I like and I like you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Really.”
“That’s funny,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because when you first saw me in your office, you looked like you wanted to kill me.”
“I did. I can’t stand it when someone sits at my desk. I’m sure you feel the same way when you’re at your office.”
He nodded. “Okay. You’ve got a point.”
“But as I was saying before you attempted to change the subject, there’s something about you that I like. That I want to explore. I get good vibes from you. I feel this incredible energy between us, Harding. I know you feel it, too.”
He laughed and shook his head at the same time. He’d never met a woman like her, but he liked her. Liked her candid approach. Women were more upfront with men nowadays and she wasn’t the exception. She also wasn’t an ordinary woman. That, he could tell right away.
“How old are you, Savannah?”
“Thirty. You?”
“Thirty-six.”
“I should’ve probably asked this already, but are you seeing anyone?” she inquired.
“No. You?”
“Definitely not, unless you’re counting yourself.”
He smiled. “Then I guess you are seeing someone.”
She beamed beautifully, so much so that he wanted to reach across the table to stroke her soft cheek. From the progression of things, it looked like he’d be doing a lot more than that sooner rather than later.
Chapter 7
A few days passed since Harding had spoken to anyone in his family. That’s why, today, after he left the office, he headed straight for his mother’s house. The thick, hearty aroma of collard greens and lemon-pepper chicken slapped him in the face when he opened the front door. He hoped she would be in a better mood by now. She was furious when they parted ways a week ago at Zoya’s celebration dinner.
“Mom, where are you, beautiful?” he asked on the way to the kitchen. He could sure use a rational listening ear and a home-cooked meal right about now.
“Oh, don’t come in here trying to sweet talk me, boy,” Florence said, then took a playful swat at him with a kitchen towel. He leaned down, embracing his apron-clad mother. He, as well as Mordecai, had gotten their height from their father. Their mother was about five-foot-six. Amira and Zoya were slightly taller.
He let his mother go and said, “I owe you an apology.”
“No, you don’t,” she said, returning to the stove with a spoon.
“I do. I should’ve told you I contacted my half-brothers. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t want you to talk me out of it.”
“And I probably would have tried,” Florence admitted.
“I know.” Harding pulled out a chair and a sigh of relief left his mouth when he sat down at the six-chair dinette in the kitchen.
“So you met them? Your brothers, I mean?”
“Yes. I did.”
“And?” she asked, stirring the pot of greens.
“And they look just like me and Mordecai. We look like we could have the same mother and father. They look that much like us.”
“Your father definitely had some strong genes,” Florence said, then stared off in a daze like she was reminiscing. “Hey, do you want a plate of food while you’re here?”
“Do you really have to ask? Of course, I want a plate.”
Florence chuckled and took two plates from the cabinet. She prepared a plate for the both of them then sat down opposite of him, watching him eat like a starved maniac. “When are you and Savannah going to sit down and have a good home cooked meal together?”
; “You know the deal with that. She’s still trying to get her affairs in order with her job and her parents.”
“Humph,” Florence groaned. “Has she ever cooked a meal for you?”
“She has. Remember this past summer…she spent the weekend with me. I invited you and the family over. She cooked lasagna.”
“Lasagna…” Florence shook her head. “A man needs a good nutritious meal…not all of those misplaced carbohydrates. Go on over there to the stove and get some more of those greens, son.”
He chuckled, standing. “Yes, ma’am.”
When he was back to the table, she said, “You don’t talk much about it, but I feel like it’s taking a toll on you?”
“What’s that?”
“Being so far away from Savannah.”
“Ma—”
“Don’t try to convince me otherwise because I have a sense for these kinds of things. Tell me what’s going on with you and Savannah.”
He took a sip of water, cleared his throat, and still holding his fork above the collard greens on his plate, he glanced up at his mother and said, “We’re not seeing eye-to-eye on a few things.”
“What things?”
He dropped his fork and sighed. “I love Savannah.”
“I know you love Savannah, and she loves you back.”
“Well, I um…I broke up with her.”
“You did what!” Florence said, dropping her fork in her plate and placing a hand on her chest.
“Mother, she’s not ready for marriage. I’m convinced.”
“Did she come right out and say that?”
“No.”
“Then what makes you so certain?”
“Because she’s still in Charleston, still making me promises of when our lives are going to begin and nothing ever pans out. I’m tired of being her hidden, secret husband. Tired of meeting her at a hotel because she doesn’t want anyone in her hometown to see us together.”
Florence’s face twisted. That’s when Harding knew he’d said too much.
