Love after Betrayal: An Interracial, Billionaire Romance Page 12

"Hmmm," Bria murmured again.

  "And I want to ride bareback on a Zebra through the Serengeti with pink stilettos on. Wanna come with?" Maya said, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared intently at Bria.

  "Sure," Bria answered.

  "Sure what?" Maya asked.

  "Huh?" Bria asked.

  "Exactly! You do realize you've just agreed to go zipping through the plains of Africa in hot-pink stilettos, don't you?"

  "What the hell are you talking about Maya?" Bria said, confused.

  "Apparently nothing you're interested in. Why did you want to come to a museum if your mind is elsewhere. You haven't really seen any of these amazing pieces, and more to the point, you haven't been listening to a word I said. What gives Bria? Things not so great with the green-eyed hunk of burning love you've been cozying up to the last month and a half?"

  "I was just thinking about how different my life was last time this year. It was a perfect beginning to a new year," Bria said. "I'd just made partner. Gunner and I were going to buy a house in Westchester so we could start trying to have a baby," she said," her eyes glued to the West African fertility figure they'd stopped in front of. "I was on top of the world. ... And then all hell broke loose. It's amazing how fast things can change in twelve short months."

  "You know what they say about plans: ‘You wanna make God laugh, make a plan.'"

  "Don't think I've ever heard that, but I've definitely lived it," Bria said, smiling sadly.

  "I know it's been a hard year, but you've persevered Bria. Your career is thriving. You've started dating again. And not just anybody. You have a gorgeous, rich man on the hook! You're getting on with your life. You should be proud of yourself."

  "Gunner called," Bria said as they slowly walked to the next piece of art, a power figure mask from the Democratic Republic of Congo.

  "When?" Maya sputtered. "And what the hell did he want?" she asked.

  "A few days ago. The anniversary of our breakup; it got to him." Bria read the inscription underneath the mask: The power figure is used as a protector of the village from evil forces and disease.

  She wished she'd had something like that to protect her marriage from the outside evil force that had destroyed it.

  "If he'da kept his dick in his pants, there wouldn't be that kind of anniversary," Maya said.

  "I think he knows that Maya," Bria said, strolling on to the next piece.

  "Why are you husband-splaining for him? I swear, it's like he has radar for when you might be on the road to happiness. He just swoops right in and shits on it," Maya said, full of disdain.

  "That's not true," Bria said. "It's only the third time he's reached out to me in the last year, and the last two times were emails – stuff that had to do with our divorce."

  "That's three times too many if you ask me," Maya said, putting her hands on her hips and prancing around like a sinner in church who'd been bit by the holy ghost. She assumed Gunner's voice, mocking Bria's ex-husband. "I'm sorry Bria. I didn't mean to put my dick in another woman Bria. I'm not the sorry ass cheater you think I am Bria. Give me another chance to ruin your life Bria."

  "You finished?" Bria said, her lips pursed into a straight line. "In case you forgot, we're in public," she admonished. "It's almost like you hate him."

  "There's practically nobody here," Maya huffed, looking at the three other patrons across the room engrossed in admiring the art pieces. "I hate what he did to you Bria. ... So what now?"

  "We're going to meet up," Bria said, bracing for Maya's disapproval.

  "Are you out of your ever-loving mind?" Maya said, guiding her to a bench so they could sit down.

  "Butt out Maya. You've made how you feel about Gunner very clear. I don't need another lecture."

  "But you're making a mistake Bria. Why would you want to go backwards when things are going so well? What is this pull he continues to have over you?"

  "He doesn't have a pull over me. I spent over half—"

  "Your life with Gunner," Maya interjected. "I know that script by heart sweetheart. Lord knows you repeat it enough. You're only thirty-five Bria. You have another forty, fifty, sixty years ahead of you. And at the rate you're going, you'll spend the rest of them pining over cheating-ass Gunner. The man went out, shoved his dick in another woman and had a kid on you. A kid! He produced a whole other human being," Maya whispered forcefully. "You've got this gorgeous, cultured, rich man salivating over you and you're stuck on weak-ass Gunner," she finished in exasperation.

  "Gunner is not weak and Carrington is definitely not salivating over me," Bria said, balling a fist in her lap. "Yes we spend time together when he's in town, but when I'm not with him, it's outta sight, outta mind. I never hear from him when he's in DC. This weekend, I haven't heard from him at all and I didn't last weekend either."

  "Oh," Maya said. "I had no idea. So that's why you didn't wanna talk about Valentine's Day," she said, almost to herself. "And here I was thinking you all were all hot and heavy."

  "We were, in a manner of speaking. We spent every weekend together for a month. Then, these last couple of weeks, he's just been ... absent," Bria confided, looking out the museum window at the lightly falling snow. She loved the first dusting of a snowfall. It covered all the flaws of the city, making everything pretty and pristine. She wished there was snow for her heart; something to cover all the hurts.

  "What do you mean absent?"

  "As in no contact, nothing," Bria said, as she recalled the month they'd spent together.

  There had been long walks through Central Park in the freezing cold.

  There had been brunches with one too many Bloody Mary's.

  There had been sake sipping after dinner in the cozy warmth of a tiny West Village bar.

  There had been fighting in bed over the spread out edition of the Sunday New York Times.

  One thing Bria had noticed the third week into their dating is that she didn't hear from him at all from Monday through Wednesday. He would always call on Thursdays when he got back in town though, and either pick her up from work for dinner and an evening of passion back at his place. That's usually where they spent the bulk of their time together, until Sunday afternoons when he'd fly back to DC. She'd go back to her apartment, and spend a lazy Sunday afternoon reveling in the time they'd together while looking forward to the next Thursday.

  Those first couple of weeks, she'd anticipated a call at least by Tuesday. But, it never came – until Thursday, when he'd call and solidify a time to pick her up that evening. The fact that she didn't hear from him Monday through Wednesday did bother her, as much as she tried to deny it. But, they were casual, and he did always call on Thursday and spend the entire time he was in the city with her, until he had to go back to DC. So she'd brushed those feelings aside and just went with the flow. After all, they were casual, right?

  Then, a couple of weeks ago, he had just stopped calling – on Thursday or any other day. His name or picture always seemed to be in the business or society section of a newspaper or blog, so she knew he wasn't ill or dead. This almost made it worse.

  They hadn't put a title on their relationship. It was too soon and things seemed to be going so well, so she didn't think it warranted one. But she did think they were dating. And dating warranted not disappearing completely with no warning, didn't it? Hell, she didn't even know anymore. She hadn't dated for two decades. Is this how things were done these days? Did people just float in and out of each other's lives at will. Is this what casual dating was. If so, she wanted none of it. She'd never pursued a man in her life, and she'd be damned if she'd start with Carrington Shelby – even if her body literally pulsed with need for him.

  "Pulling a disappearing act like that; that's not good," Maya mused. "He—"

  "It's a casual thing," Bria interrupted, "so this is par for the course, right?"

  "Is this why you're so keen to meet with Gunner? Because you feel like Carrington is rejecting you?" Maya asked.

  "Gunner has no
thing to do with Carrington."

  "The hell he doesn't," Maya responded.

  "This is all so new to me that I don't know what to think," Bria said, standing and ramming her hands in her pants pocket. "To be completely honest, yeah, it bugs me that I don't hear from Carrington when he's in DC. Gunner would never do something like that."

  "And there's no email or voice mail or social media contact? Nothing?" Maya asked.

  "You know I don't do social media, and no, there's no contact at all. None," Bria confirmed.

  "SORRY I RUINED OUR museum visit," Bria said, as she entered Maya's apartment. "And thanks for letting me come over. I really didn't feel like going back to an empty apartment. It seems weird to be there on a Saturday afternoon because for a full month, I've barely been home on the weekends until Sunday afternoon," Bria said, pressing her head against the pane of the cold window in Maya's living room. Last weekend, ironically the first weekend, he hadn't called, was devastating for more reasons than one.

  "Why don't you stay the night. We could rent Thelma & Louise – and theoretically slay the male species via a good ole chick flick."

  Bria smiled sadly, Maya's words barely registering. "I have a picture of mama on a shelf in my linen closet," she said out of the blue.

  "That's a strange place to put a picture," Maya said, not questioning her friend's such change of topic.

  "I know," Bria said. "I don't like the picture, so I keep it close but not somewhere that I have to look at it every day. Mama didn't really like taking pictures. I didn't realize until I was sorting through her stuff after she died that there aren't very many of her looking happy."

  "Why do you keep it out at all if you don't like it?" Maya asked.

  "Because it captures her essence. The few smiley ones of her look fake and forced. But that one – it's the one that's truest to who she was. There's an ever-present sadness in her eyes, but you can also see determination. I saw myself in that picture for the first time the other day Maya. It scared the life outta me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I don't want to turn into my mama; not that version of her. She was strong and determined, but she was deeply unhappy. My father wasn't good to her or for her. He did a number on her that she never was able to recover from."

  "Like Gunner did to you?"

  "No," Bria said slowly. "Like Carrington could," Bria said, hugging herself tightly.

  "I don't understand," Maya said, surprised.

  "Don't you see Maya – I know Gunner. And in spite of what he did, he's not a bad man. He did a bad thing, but he's not a bad man. I don't know Carrington. And from what I'm seeing, he's not someone I should waste my time getting to know. This casual thing is just not me." Especially now, she thought.

  "Don't throw the baby out with the bath water. You just started seeing the guy. It hasn't even been two months yet."

  "Wasn't it Maya Angelou who said that when people show you who they are, believe them? I've seen this relationship script Maya – with my own father. It never ends well."

  "Well how many times has he gone to DC?"

  "Every week since we met, except the first week. Even that was because it was the holidays and his father had recently passed. So he had business to handle here in New York."

  "I guess I see your point."

  "You guess?" Bria said, turning her head to look at her friend. "Wouldn't it bother you if some guy you were seeing disappeared on you?"

  "It would all depend on how much I liked him," Maya clarified.

  "I wouldn't spend so much time with him if I didn't like him," Bria confessed.

  "Maybe that's your problem. You spend too much time with him. Just because he calls when he's in town doesn't mean you have to see him. Ice him for a bit. See other people."

  "That's playing games, I don't have time for that. It's not me."

  "This is my fault. All my fault," Maya declared.

  "How?" Bria asked.

  "I didn't give you clear rules about how to conduct yourself in a casual relationship."

  "Please, enlighten me," Bria said, rolling her eyes. She couldn't be less interested in the rules of casual dating.

  "The number one rule is that he can't be the only one you're seeing. You gotta have options sweetie. Men's penises can sense when you're only sleeping with them like a bloodhound can sniff out a deer. So he probably figures he has you on lock down already. There's no more challenge."

  "I'm not trying to be a challenge. I just ... I just liked spending time with him. I looked forward to weekends again. He made me laugh out loud – like you do. And those eyes; they actually haunt me in my sleep," Bria smiled, biting her bottom lip as she cocked her head to one side, remembering how she'd wake up in the middle of the night sometimes, dreams of Carrington fresh on her brain as she wished she could will him to her side.

  "Oh God," Maya said getting up to come stand beside Bria. "I really am too late. You're already two sheets to the wind for this guy, aren't you?" she said, her eyes widening.

  "I am not," Bria objected, looking away from her friend's too-probing gaze.

  "Liar!" Maya accused. "Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't have feelings for him. ... Right here," Maya said, pointing the forefinger and middle finger of her right hand at her eyes.

  "You're being absurd," Bria deflected. "Besides, that's not why I came here."

  "You can lie and deny to me all you want, but you can't hide the truth from yourself Bria."

  Bria could feel the roots of her hair warming; the sensation of being uncomfortable slithering down her spine and settling in her stomach. She knew Maya spoke the truth, a truth she wasn't ready to fully admit. Yes, she had fallen for Carrington Shelby. But then there was Gunner – and so much more she couldn't tell her friend. So much more.

  "Back to Gunner," Bria said – anything to change the subject.

  "First his baby mama wanting to meet with you, and now him? So tell me – what in tarnation does he want?" Maya huffed.

  "Tarnation?" Bria smiled, glad she'd been able to change the subject. "Tarnation," she repeated. "You're sounding more and more like Dexter every day. You did say he was born and raised in the south, didn't you?"

  "Shut up," Maya protested. "Now really, what does the hussy and hoe humper want?"

  "Hussy and hoe humper? Oh lord you have lost your mind!" Bria howled in laughter, a snort escaping her nose. Only Maya could make her laugh like this at a time like this.

  "That's what I said."

  "Dexter is definitely rubbing off on you," Bria quipped.

  "Never mind Dexter," Maya said, not taking the distraction bait. "What are you going to do about that butt-in-ski ex of yours?"

  "I know you hate to hear it Maya, but our divorce still seems so unreal in so many ways – even a year later. I think I need to see him to get some clarity. I tried to tell myself that I didn't, but I do," Bria added, shaking her head, "Especially after I finally met with his baby mama. It took everything in me, but I did it. I understand her in so many ways now."

  "I can't believe you kept this from me. I thought you told me you changed your mind about meeting with her," Maya said.

  "I did ... and I changed it back," Bria explained. "She asked me something that could have knocked me over with the proverbial feather," Bria said, her insides churning from just remembering the conversation. "I still can't believe she had the nerve to ask me that?"

  "So don't keep me in suspense. What was it? And what do you mean you understand her in so many ways now?" Maya asked, her eyes fixed on Bria's face.

  Chapter 24

  TWO WEEKS AGO

  Bria looked at the woman coming towards her. Damn, she looked like a mode1! And not just any model – the inimitable Iman! She was young and achingly beautiful, a dead ringer for the African beauty. The only difference was that Marla's neck was even longer and more graceful than Iman's, if that was possible. Everything about her was long, lean and beautiful: legs from here to next week; straight, thick hair that
traveled over gracefully broad shoulders; and cheekbones that practically introduced themselves.

  No wonder Gunner cheated on your old ass, Bria thought. Any red-blooded male would have been hard pressed to turn whatever this ethereal creature offered down.

  Finally, the young woman approached the table Bria had taken near the back of the restaurant. Bria pressed her hands to her chest. Her heart was beating so hard she could see her blouse moving. She pondered why she was so nervous. She was the injured party in this whole mess; so why did she feel like the villain?

  Maybe meeting with her ex-husband's baby mama wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe Maya had been right when she'd advised her not to meet with Marla, and to let sleeping dogs lie.

  "Bria?" the young woman asked.

  Bria's mind snapped back to the present. "Yes," she croaked. "Marla?" she asked unnecessarily. Even though they'd never met, somehow she'd known as soon as the woman entered the restaurant that this was the woman Gunner had had an affair with. It was almost as if her beauty oozed, ‘I can take your man.' And that's exactly what she'd done.

  "Yes," the young woman confirmed, assessing Bria. "May I?" she asked.

  "Please," Bria said, indicating for her to take a seat.

  "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me," she said in a husky drawl. Even her voice was like sex on a stick, Bria thought.

  "I know you must be wondering why I wanted to meet with you," Marla started as soon as she sat.

  Doesn't waste any time does she? "That would be an understatement," Bria said out loud, the words coming out much more harshly than she meant. She'd given herself the ‘remain cool' speech before coming today; a speech she was dangerously close to forgetting.

  "I know it may sound like a strange request, but I need to know what hold you have over Gunner," Marla stated bluntly.

  "Excuse me?" Bria asked.

  "You have to know you still have power over him. Why won't you let him go?"

  At that moment, Bria knew her advice to herself was toast. "I don't know whether to slap the taste out of your mouth or feel sorry for you," Bria said, her heart hammering in her chest as her blood pressure slammed past the proverbial roof.