Gregor’s body language told her how difficult this was for him. The urge to comfort him grew intense. She fought it with all her might.
He continued. “When things happened that I couldn’t handle, I’d shut down. It was what I knew. I would retreat into my shell like a turtle in hiding. And when I was there, it was always hard for me to come out. My ther—” Gregor stopped abruptly but continued a second later. “My therapist says it’s a self-preservation mechanism.”
Therapist. Wow. She was stunned he’d shared this with her. A part of her softened.
Gregor eyed her intently, like he expected her to have a negative reaction to him seeing a therapist? She wished more people—especially black men, who often carried the weight of two worlds on their shoulders—would seek the professional help they needed instead of holding so much inside. She thought no less of Gregor for seeking professional help.
“Why did you hesitate to share the fact that you’re in therapy?”
“It’s not something I go around advertising. Until this moment, I’ve never even admitted it to myself. I disguised it as talking to an old friend.”
Zahra studied him for a long moment. “Is that all your therapist had to say? Nothing about ego? Pride? Stubbornness?”
“He may have mentioned something about pride being a catalyst for destruction.”
“Sounds like a smart man.”
Gregor closed the distance between them. “I’m not perfect, Zahra.”
“I never needed you to be. Yet, it seems like you expect perfection from me.”
“To me, you are as perfect as perfect can get. You’re the closest I’ve ever gotten to perfection.”
Zahra glanced away, wanting to pretend his words hadn’t touched her, when they truly had.
Gregor placed a hand under her chin. This time she didn’t pull away.
“You changed my life, Zahra. You believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. I love you, Zahra Antionette Hart. I. Love. You. And I’ve never been surer about anything in my life.”
Nope, she refused to allow his words to penetrate her shell.
“For as long as I can remember, my looks, then my money, then my fame have been my blankets. You stripped that all away. All that was left was me. The real me. Gregor Denton Carter. You make me feel as if that’s just enough. That I’m enough. Just me.”
For someone who wasn’t good at expressing himself, he was doing a damn good job of it. “How do I know, Gregor? How do I know that the next time we approach stormy weather, you won’t shut down?” How could she live with such uncertainty?
“You can’t know, Zahra. And I can’t convince you. All I can do is ask you to believe in me again. I’m asking you to trust that I’ll never again do anything to jeopardize us.”
Zahra took several steps back, turned and lowered her head to her engagement ring. Behind her, Al Green’s “Let’s Stay Together” began to play. She turned. “Is this supposed to influence me?”
“In one of your books, you said the perfect song could soften a heart,” he said.
Zahra cursed the tender sentiment that swirled inside her, turning her hardened heart to mush. “That was in reference to my characters and their love story.”
“Baby, we are a love story. We’re just waiting for our happily-ever-after.” He captured and lifted her left hand, then eyed the diamond on her finger. “You still love me, Zahra, or you wouldn’t be wearing your ring.”
She never said she’d stopped loving him. “It’s stuck,” she said with mild humor in her tone.
“That means fate has spoken. You’re stuck with me.” He tossed his phone aside and cradled her face between his hands. “Being in this kind of love, Zahra, is like an emotional minefield for me. But I’ll risk life and limb every single day just to be with you.”
She swallowed the swell of emotion lodged in her throat.
“Stick with me, baby. Stick with me, and I swear I’ll make you the happiest woman alive.” Moments later, he lowered himself to one knee. “Zahra Antoinette Hart, will you find your way back to me? Will you forgive me? Will you love me? Will you spend your life with me? Will you make me whole again?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation, because she wanted to feel complete again, too.
Gregor’s head dropped, and he exhaled heavily as if he’d been holding his breath. A second later, he came to his feet and snatched her into his arms and held her tight. “God answered my prayers,” he whispered into the crook of her neck. “I’ll love you for a lifetime.”
She knew he would.
Epilogue
Eight months later...
Zahra didn’t know what was up when her wedding planner directed her into a chair placed in the middle of the dance floor. Several seconds later, Gregor and all of his groomsmen appeared, forming a line in front of her.
“What’s going on?” she asked no one in particular.
When Marvin Gaye’s “Pride and Joy” started to play, Gregor stepped out from the formation and started to lip-sync the lyrics, his groomsmen serving as background singers. The room erupted in cheers. Zahra cupped her hands over her mouth in disbelief and smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.
These burly men, fresh off a Super Bowl win, moving in synced perfection, was a sight to see. Clearly, they’d had a great deal of choreography. But when?
When the song got to the line where Marvin sings he worked seven days a week to give his woman all his money, Gregor and the guys formed a circle around her, reached into their pockets, pulled out wads of cash and showered her with hundred-dollar bills.
The room went bonkers.
A couple of minutes later, the music faded, and Gregor extended his hands toward her. When she took his hands, he helped her to her feet, then pulled her into his arms. Their first dance song, Stevie Wonder’s “Ribbon in the Sky,” began to play. They swayed back and forth, staring deep into each other’s eyes.
“That was beautiful,” she said.
He kissed her gently. “You’re beautiful.” He kissed her again. “This is the second-best night of my life,” he said.
“What was the first?” Zahra assumed it was signing his first NFL contract.
“Meeting you a second time.” He shook his head. “I fall in love with you over and over again every second. How is that even possible? I owe Leona.”
Zahra smiled as she recalled how Leona had confessed that the Lake Lamont mix-up had not been by error. Unbeknownst to her husband, Thad, she’d orchestrated the entire thing after overhearing him planning for Gregor’s arrival at the house. Yeah, she owed her meddling agent, too.
“Mrs. Carter,” Gregor said.
His words pulled her back to reality. “I love the sound of that,” she said.
“So do I.” He rested his forehead against hers. “No one has ever loved me the way you do. I wish you could read my mind, so you could see how much I love you.”
“I don’t need to read your mind. I already know how much you love me,” she said.
“How?”
Zahra smiled. “You made me Zahra freaking Carter. And I’ll wear the title like a badge of honor. This is our story, our happily-ever-after, and it’s written with love.”
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from Forever Mine by Donna Hill.
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Forever Mine
by Donna Hill
Chapter 1
Alonzo Grant tugged in an exhausted breath and rotated his tight shoulders. The clang and tingle of pots, china and silverware being gathered by his stellar team punctuated the air that still held the aromas of the five-course meal that he’d created and supervised specifically for tonight.
The last of the high-profile guests finally drifted toward their Porsches, Mercedes, Lexuses and Escalades. Red-jacketed valets moved with gazelle-like grace, speed retrieving cars and presenting them to their owners. The party, or what Academy Award-nominee Kevin Palmer called “an impromptu gathering of a few close friends” at his London townhouse, had mushroomed from dinner for an intimate twenty to a whopping one hundred. So of course, Kevin called on his longtime friend Alonzo to prepare and execute the menu fit for his A-list friends and wannabes. Fortunately for Kevin, chef Alonzo Grant had flown in a week earlier to spend some time with his on-again, off-again lady of the moment, Cheri Lang, while she was on break between filming.
“Lonzo, man, you outdid yourself tonight.” Kevin stood in the threshold of the main hall where the party had been held.
Alonzo slowly unbuttoned his signature white jacket with his initials, AG, etched in black letters on the left side of his chest. A shadow of a smile curved his mouth. “Anything for you, Kev. Frat brothers till the end.” He clapped him on the arm. “But next time,” he said, pointing a long finger in his friend’s direction, “try to get the head count earlier than the morning of your event.” He shook his head in wry amusement.
“I know. I know.” Kevin held up his hands in subjugation. “Totally apologize. Everything was all last-minute. Who knew I was gonna get an Academy Award nod, and that you would be in town?” He grinned, snatched a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, filled a flute for himself and one for Alonzo. “The stars were aligned—no pun intended.”
“Helluva performance in Dreamers.” He tipped his glass toward Kevin, then took a sip. “You deserve it.”
“Thanks, man. Still can’t believe it.” Kevin took a long swallow from his glass. “No sooner than the nomination came in, my phone starts ringing with offers.”
Alonzo chuckled. “You always did walk under that lucky charm.”
“I do have some talent,” he quipped. He rested his weight against the wall. “One of the calls came from none other than Ryan Carrington.”
Alonzo’s brow lifted. “The Ryan Carrington, that directed Fishburne and Jackson in Interboro?”
Kevin flashed his money-winning smile. “The one and only.”
Alonzo bobbed his head in approval and raised his hand for a fist bump. “Making friends in high places.”
Kevin tapped his fist against Alonzo’s. “He wants me to come in and see him, said he has a project he’s working on and thinks I’ll be perfect.” His grin made his brown eyes crinkle in the corners.
“Now that’s news. Congrats. No matter how it shakes out, you made an impression on him.”
“You’ve met Ryan, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, a few times at different parties that I catered. I did a small one for him about a year ago. Doing something bigger for his upcoming birthday.”
“We’re all done, Mr. Grant.”
Alonzo glanced toward the door. Jasmine Cole, his head chef and right hand, untied her apron. “’Scuse me a minute, Kev.” He crossed the room to where Jasmine waited. “Couldn’t have pulled this off without you,” he said and smiled down at her. “You’re a miracle worker.”
“You know how to put a great team together, Zo. And in a hurry, at that.”
“With you as my wingwoman,” he said, winking, “can’t go wrong.” Because of all his travels and his connections, he’d built a stellar team of cooks and servers that specialized in everything from delicate patisserie to down-south soul food, dinner for two or two hundred and everything in between. At a moment’s notice he could gather some of the best in the business to pull off an event. Of course, he had his core team that—when it wasn’t an out-of-the-country emergency—were his go-to crew, with Jasmine as the lead.
He took a thick envelope out of his pocket. “Everyone’s check is inside. I added a little something extra for all the last-minute craziness.”
“I know they’ll appreciate that.” She took the envelope.
“What time is your flight back to the States?”
“Eleven. Can’t wait. A full week to do absolutely nothing. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll order in every day!”
They laughed.
Alonzo leaned in and lightly kissed her cheek. “Rest well and safe travels.”
“When are you returning?”
“I thought I’d stay in London another week. See some sights.”
She gave him the side-eye. “You and Cheri?”
“A gentleman never tells. Good night, Jasmine.”
She squeezed his bicep. “See you when you get back. Try to stay out of trouble and out of the headlines.” She turned and walked toward the door.
He pressed his hand to his chest. “You wound me,” he called out to her retreating back. She waved a hand in dismissal.
Time out of the spotlight would do him good. His brothers, Montgomery and Franklin, ragged him constantly about his status as a ladies’ man, which was almost on par with his culinary skills. His face had landed on the cover of every food magazine worth its salt and pepper, right along with Entertainment Weekly, People and Us magazines. The fact that he basked in the spotlight and there wasn’t a camera that didn’t love him only added to his aura. But in a million years he would have never guessed that his childhood love for cooking would one day find him as master chef for actors, athletes and entertainers all over the globe.
Alonzo returned to where Kevin was finishing off his drink. “I’m gonna head back to my hotel.”
“Sure, sure. I’ll walk you out.” He draped his arm across Alonzo’s broad shoulders as they walked to the front door. “I can’t thank you enough, man.”
“Don’t mention it.” He tipped his head and lowered his voice. “Seriously, don’t mention it. I don’t need word getting out that folks can treat me any old way,” he chuckled. “Mess up my MO.”
“The secret is safe with me.”
They shared a hard handshake and pulled in for the one-arm brother hug. “Take it easy, man, and congrats again.”
“I’ll probably see you in a month or so, for Ryan’s birthday bash. He invited me.” Kevin grinned.
Alonzo chuckled and shook his head in amusement. “See you then.” He jogged down the four steps and walked along the pathway that led to his rented car.
It was nearly midnight. He’d been on his feet since before eight, and tired didn’t begin to describe how he felt. It took all his concentration to remember to stay on the correct side of the road. The drive from Kevin’s townhouse was barely twenty minutes to the Crowne Plaza where he was staying, b
ut it already felt like hours.
He considered calling Cheri, have her spend the night in his room instead of hers, work out the kinks, but he didn’t have anything left in the tank. Cheri Lang was an up-and-coming actress who had a few small parts to her credit. Her current film role as an FBI agent—that brought her to London—could be her breakout role. At least that’s what she kept saying when she sweet-talked him into coming to London, promising that during her downtime they would get together. It really wasn’t a heavy lift to convince him. England was one of his favorite places and getting to spend time with Cheri was a plus.
But right now, what he really needed was sustenance. As crazy as it was, he was starving. With all the food for the party, he didn’t actually eat a full meal but only taste tested each of the dishes for quality. He made a quick left and drove in the direction of his favorite all-night restaurant. Warren Hobbs, a classmate of his, had packed his US bags, relocated to merry old England and opened the best Italian restaurant outside of Italy. They’d met when they were both students at the Castello di Vicarello in Tuscany, having already begun to build reputations as top chefs after their intense training at the International Culinary Institute in California. Anytime he visited England, he made it a point to stop in and check on his friend.
By the time he arrived, all he could think about was Warren’s signature dish, tortelli with ricotta and spinach, a recipe he’d mastered in Tuscany and then put his own special spin on it; the secret to which Alonzo was determined to uncover.
He eased into a vacant spot two doors down from the restaurant, cut the engine and hopped out. When he reached the glass front of Hobbs he stopped short. Seated just beyond the plate-glass window was Cheri with Dominic Logan, her leading man. For a moment he stood there in disbelief, watching. Unless they were role-playing as a couple that couldn’t keep their hands off each other, they were definitely more than two actors out for a nightcap.
Then Came You ; Written with Love Page 33