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“It’s not as simple as that,” I said.
“Really?” Carla asked. “Because I thought it was as simple as if you love someone, you marry them. If you don’t love someone—”
“I’ve learned that life isn’t as easy as black and white, right and wrong. Being in love or liking someone. There are so many shades of gray, Carla, complicating everything.”
“You’re justifying,” Carla said in a singsong voice.
“But how can I accept his help and not marry him?”
“With a ‘thank you very much for your help, but I’m not in love with you.’ You and Lewis stayed friends after your relationship ended the first time. I’m sure you’ll remain friends if you tell him the truth now.”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “Lately I’ve been thinking that love is overrated.”
Carla laughed. “Love is overrated? This coming from the woman who has always been seeking the real thing? Hell, when you came back from the Bahamas, you had such a glow. And when Chaz came to visit you here, I’ve never seen you happier.”
“And Chaz dumped me, remember? That’s exactly why I say that love is overrated. No offense—I know some people find the real deal—but for others, maybe it’s enough to find someone you like a lot, someone who makes you laugh. Someone who won’t break your heart.”
“Chaz is going to come around,” Carla said. “I really believe that.”
“I wish I could believe that, but he was very clear. He couldn’t accept any form of dishonesty. I left him a couple messages, but he hasn’t called me back.” My throat grew thick with emotion, my heart heavy. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get over him.”
Carla patted my hand. “Oh, sweetie.”
“Which is exactly why I need to marry someone I’m not head over heels in love with,” I went on, trying to push my sad feelings aside. “Lewis and I can have the passion in the bedroom without love. I think it’s a win-win situation.”
“I saw the way Chaz looked at you,” Carla said, her voice encouraging. “It was obvious how much he loved you.”
I swallowed. Hard. I didn’t want Carla talking about Chaz—it was too painful to remember what I’d shared with him. “It’s over,” I said simply. “He made that very clear.”
“But it doesn’t have to be,” Carla insisted. “Not forever.”
“Carla—”
“A man wants to know a woman’s crazy about him,” she said. “Just as much as he’s crazy about her. I say you fight for him.”
“I tried that. It didn’t work, remember?”
“You called a couple times. Maybe you need to call twenty times. One hundred. Whatever it takes to prove to him that he’s the only man you’ll ever love.”
I lifted my left hand, showing the enormous engagement ring Lewis had given me.
“I’ve got nothing against Lewis,” Carla said. “Except that you couldn’t trust him to be faithful.”
“But that’s the thing. He’s really changed.”
“Fine. Let’s say he has. If you could return from a date with him and be glowing the way you did after you’d met Chaz, I would wholeheartedly support any union between you and him. You’re a terrific girl, Vanessa. You deserve nothing less than to spend the rest of your life with a man you’re passionately in love with.”
I held up a hand to stop Carla. “Stop, please. I’m confused enough already. Besides, I have the problem of Tassie Johnson. Lewis can make it go away.” I wouldn’t know for sure until after the meeting, but I was hoping that with a big check, Tassie would choose greed over her fight with me. And the only way for me to come up with that kind of cash was Lewis.
What else could I do? I had resolved to think of my daughter’s happiness instead of my own. Thinking of my own happiness had resulted in dating disaster after dating disaster. Personally, I was ready to close the door on my heart once and for all and deal with being a good mother. And being a good mother meant keeping my home for my daughter.
“I’ve given my opinion,” Carla said. “I’m not going to browbeat you with it.”
“Thank you.”
“Because the truth is, whatever you decide, I’m going to support you. I just want to see you happy.”
“Thank you.” I leaned forward and hugged Carla. “That means a lot.”
“You were there for me when I had my marriage crisis. The least I can do is support you.”
Only a month earlier, Carla had contemplated an affair. I knew she didn’t really want to do that, but she’d been missing her husband terribly, who was in Iraq on a tour of duty. Thankfully, she’d come to her senses and not jeopardized everything that mattered most to her.
“Have you heard from Paul?” I asked.
Carla’s face erupted in a grin. “Just this evening, actually.”
“And how is he?”
“He’s doing well. He misses me like crazy, as I do him. And with every day that passes, I don’t worry as much. The worrying was making me go insane.”
Didn’t I know it. The big issue that had had Carla very worried—and in my mind, thinking irrationally enough to even consider an affair—was her fear that Paul would die in Iraq and leave her a widow. It was a completely natural fear, and all any of us could do was pray for Paul’s safe return.
“I’m counting down the days until he gets back,” Carla said. “As soon as he’s home, we’re going to Disney World.”
As I watched Carla’s face light up as she spoke, her earlier words got me. The whole bit about being passionately in love with your partner and deserving nothing less than that.
Seeing the love in her face made me believe in the ideal. Wish for it in my own life.
Before I got lost in thoughts about Chaz again, I got up from the sofa. “Let me check on my little pumpkin.”
I walked down the hall to Carla’s room and peered inside. Amani and Rayna were lying on the bed, a comforter covering them as they watched the television.
Rayna smiled when she saw me, but didn’t make a move to get off the bed. “I watching Barbie,” she said.
I padded into the room. “Yes, I see that.” I eased onto the bed beside my daughter and kissed the top of her head. “Is it a good movie?”
“Shh!”
“Oh, okay then.” I giggled as I got up. “I’ll let you watch the rest of your movie, then we’ll go home.”
I went back out to the living room, where Carla was still on the sofa. She had the television on to CNN and was absorbed in a story about a missing girl in Omaha.
“This is so scary,” she said, turning to me. “The father was so pissed over losing custody that he took his little girl and took off. No one knows where they are. The mother is devastated.”
“Of course,” I said, only half-interested. Carla was addicted to television. Soap operas and CNN. While she didn’t say so, I figured she watched CNN all the time for any news about fallen soldiers.
“Do you mind if I head upstairs to shower, then come back down to get her?” I asked.
“Sure. Go on.”
I left Carla’s and headed upstairs to my place. In my bedroom, I stripped out of my suit.
That’s when I noticed the red message light flashing on my phone.
I went around to the side of my bed where my phone was and punched in the code to check my voice mail.
“Vanessa, this is Cynthia Martin. I tried you at work, but you’d already gone. Call me back. It’s important.”
Cynthia then rattled off her number, but it wasn’t necessary. I’d committed it to memory. I called her back immediately.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Cynthia. I’m glad I—”
“This is Cynthia Martin. I’m unable to take your call right now, but leave me a message, and I’ll be sure to get back to you.”
I frowned, but left a message letting Cynthia know that I was home now, and that she could call me anytime.
Then I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
As I climbed into the tub, I was both excited and scared. Excited at the prospect that Cynthia might have gotten the dirt I needed, but scared that she hadn’t.
I wished she’d said either way what she had learned. The suspense was killing me.
I showered quickly, hoping she returned my call soon. She had to have good news for me.
I wouldn’t allow myself to think anything else.
7
I called Cynthia Martin no less than five times the next day when I was at work, and was completely dismayed when I got her voice mail each time. How was it that the woman had called with news, but now wouldn’t get back to me?
Every time my phone rang, I hoped it was her calling. All but one time I answered it, it was someone calling regarding my work. The one non-work-related call had come from Lewis, who’d let me know that he’d put in a call to both the lawyers he’d mentioned the previous night and was waiting to hear back from them.
I glanced at my wall clock. It was ten minutes to five. Disappointed that the whole day had passed without a word from Cynthia, I frowned.
And then my phone rang. I snatched up the receiver before it could ring a second time. “Vanessa Cain.”
“Hey, Vanessa. It’s Cynthia Martin.”
“Cynthia,” I said, my heart filling with hope when I heard the reporter’s voice.
“I’ve got news for you,” she practically sang.
“You do?”
“Yes. And you’re going to like it.”
I pumped my fist in the air and mouthed the word yes!
“Can we meet this evening?” she asked.
“Name the time and place.”
“How about the Barnes and Noble on Kendall Drive? We can meet in the Starbucks café.”
“Sounds good.”
“I can be there around five-fifteen.”
My office wasn’t too far from that bookstore. And if I met Cynthia now, I wouldn’t have to go home, only to head back into downtown Miami later. “I’ll be there.”
“See you then.”
As soon as I replaced the receiver, I quickly finished with the file that was on my computer and logged off. I slipped into my slingbacks, which were beneath my desk, and collected my purse. Then I hurried out of my office, saying a quick goodbye to the co-workers I ran in to, before heading to the bank of elevators.
Hardly able to contain my excitement, I all but danced around in the elevator, ready to spring through the doors the moment they opened on the ground floor. I watched each floor light up during the descent, and inwardly groaned every time the elevator stopped on a floor other than the first.
About three minutes later, I was the first to get off the elevator when it landed on the lobby level. I caught Edgar’s eye immediately. The building’s long-time security guard raised his hand in greeting and offered me a meek smile.
I’m not sure what kind of look I leveled on him, but I know it wasn’t pleasant.
“Come on,” Edgar said as I neared the security desk. “Are you going to be mad at me forever?”
In reply, I scowled at him.
“Vanessa…”
Edgar and I weren’t close friends or anything, but I hadn’t expected him to betray me the way he had. Edgar was a friend of Rayna’s father, Byron, and had told him about my involvement with Chaz Anderson. Because of that, Byron had shown up at the restaurant where I’d been having lunch with Chaz, confronted me about not wanting to “lose” his daughter—thereby exposing my lie about Rayna’s father being dead—and that had been the end for me and Chaz.
“Come over here and talk to me,” Edgar urged, motioning for me to go to him.
I paused, debating what to do. But after a moment, I sauntered toward him. Reaching the security desk, I blew out a heavy breath and stared down at Edgar.
“Yes, I’m going to be mad at you forever,” I said. “Edgar, how could you have told Byron about me and Chaz?”
“I already told you. Byron said he’d changed—given up the gambling, you know? I know that was a big problem for you guys, and I figured, he seemed like he was telling the truth. And doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”
Byron was a compulsive gambler. It was one of the reasons that our relationship was doomed to fail. I didn’t know about his habit until we’d already been involved about a year, and when I found out he was in debt to bookies for thousands, he always had what seemed like a reasonable explanation for how the situation had gotten out of control.
Every time I asked him how the “situation” was going, he told me he was working off his debt. I believed him. And then I noticed that some of my jewelry was gone. Like a diamond-and-emerald necklace my father had given to my mother that I’d received after her passing. At first, Byron swore that he hadn’t taken it. Then, he claimed he “borrowed” it.
I never saw it again, or any of the other jewelry he’d taken. I still remember thinking that the reason he was so upset that I was pregnant was because of the money it would cost to raise a child—money he was happier spending on placing bets.
“It was up to me to decide whether or not he deserved a second chance,” I said to Edgar.
“I know. But he kept telling me how he’d changed, and was talking about how much he wanted a relationship with his daughter, that he was ready,” Edgar went on. “But that you wouldn’t give him the time of day. Then there was that article in the paper about you and Chaz, speculating that you’d get married.” Edgar shrugged. “I felt I had to say something.”
