Be My Always: A BWWM Romance (Make It Marriage Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Brendon wasn’t all perfect.

  “Kayla.” He steps closer.

  The air between us is charged.

  My heart thumps. “What do you want to know?”

  “What you told her.”

  “The truth.”

  “Which is?”

  “You can’t keep your hands off me.”

  His cheeks turn pink.

  It’s my first time seeing Brendon blush and it’s the cutest thing.

  “What else?”

  “The birthmark on your…”

  “Stop.”

  “She knew about that.”

  He scoffs. “She’s my mother.”

  “Yeah, she knows about it because she used to bathe you and I know about it because—”

  “Yeah, I get it.”

  My lip trembles.

  Messing with him is way more fun than it should be.

  “I also told her about that thing you do with your lip when you’re concentrating real hard…”

  “I can’t listen to this anymore.”

  “She complimented your stamina and generosity.”

  “Generosity as in…?”

  “Both ways.”

  “Ugh.”

  “I think she’s impressed.”

  He groans. “Kayla…”

  I laugh. “She’s setting up an appointment for me. To test my fertility.”

  “I warned you.”

  “It’s hard to say no to that woman.”

  “Trust me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I know.”

  “She’s surprisingly easy to talk to.”

  “Is that why you told her everything?”

  I smirk. “Are you embarrassed?”

  He takes my hand. Pulls me in. Opens his mouth—probably to say something about how he’s going to punish me later—when the elevator door opens and a man steps out.

  He’s tall and broad-shouldered—an older, more distinguished version of Brendon.

  Brendon’s hand tightens on mine.

  His eyes harden.

  “Dad.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. I try to ease my hand away from his.

  He holds tight and links our fingers instead. “Nice of you to show up.”

  “Well, I heard my wife’s about to kick the bucket so…” He shrugs. Blue eyes fix on me. “Who’s this?”

  Brendon doesn’t seem in any rush to introduce me—as busy as he is glaring daggers into his father’s head—so I stick out my hand and introduce myself. “Kayla Montgomery.”

  “Do you work here?” His eyes slip to where Brendon is holding me tightly.

  “No.”

  “Ah.” A grin spreads on his handsome face. He nods at Brendon. “It’s about time.”

  “Save the congratulations, Dad. And keep your eyes to yourself.”

  “She’s not my type.” He gives me a slow-once over. Tilts his head. Rubs his chin as he stares at my chest. “Then again…”

  My polite smile melts into a sneer.

  So much for a good first impression.

  Venus was right. The senior Mr. Humes really is a creep.

  The tension between the two men doubles.

  “Watch yourself.”

  Mr. Humes throws his head back and laughs.

  Just being in his presence disgusts me.

  I tug on Brendon’s hand until I’m free. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Brendon finally tears his gaze away from his father to look at me. “Kayla…”

  “Call me later,” I whisper.

  He nods.

  There’s something in his eyes.

  Shame?

  Frustration?

  He’s not proud of where he comes from, of half of his legacy.

  I wish I could kiss that look out of his eyes.

  For now, all I can do is slip away and comfort him again when he finds me.

  Thirty

  Brendon

  The elevator closes behind Kayla. I hold her eyes until the doors wrench her from sight and carry her to the ground floor.

  Then—and only then—do I turn my attention to Dad.

  He’s still smirking.

  That oily, I’m about to wreck your entire world smile.

  “She’s got a nice rack.”

  “Shut up.”

  “A black woman?”

  “That a crime?”

  “Just unexpected.”

  “Given your record, I assumed you didn’t discriminate.”

  “I don’t. I love me some black women.” He licks his lips. “Nice body. Sassy attitude. Nothing like ‘em. But you already knew that.”

  I frown.

  The last thing I want is my dad thinking we’re similar in any way.

  “Where’s your security team?”

  “At the office.”

  “Thought you didn’t travel without them?”

  Dad tosses his head. “Nothing would draw the paps faster than an entourage driving through town. I can make do for a couple days.”

  “You’re staying?”

  “Heard she asked for me.”

  “So?”

  He blinks. “So I’m here.”

  “When you say things like that, it almost sounds like a part of you still loves her.”

  “I do.” Dad’s eyes dim. “In my own way. She gave me you after-all.”

  My eyes widen.

  That’s uncharacteristically sappy.

  We don’t do sappy around here.

  At least, not me and Dad.

  I can’t remember the last time we connected over anything. Somewhere between the affairs and the frequent absences and the nights of mom crying her eyes out in her bedroom, I stopped caring for him.

  Figured the feeling was mutual.

  Dad clears his throat and walks ahead of me. “Now about your woman. Kayla, was it?” He strides forward and tosses over his shoulder, “She have a sister?”

  I scowl.

  Now that’s the George Humes that I’m used to.

  I’m forced to spend a lot more time with Dad over the next couple days.

  It’s infuriating and a real test in patience. Under normal circumstances, I’d try to keep as much distance from him as possible, but Mom’s deteriorating fast and she wants him here.

  Her mind’s in constant confusion thanks to the heavy meds she’s taking to counter-act the pain, but the wistful nostalgia is always present, on the tip of her tongue.

  She insists on rehashing old memories.

  Dad taking me fishing when I was seven.

  Her trip to Egypt twenty years ago.

  The day she decided to adopt Ariya.

  In her version of the past, we’re one big happy family.

  She’s either forgotten or intentionally ignoring the fact that Dad took me ‘fishing’ so he could visit his mistress.

  That her trip to Egypt was his way of compensating for the first sexual misconduct scandal that he managed to bury in everyone’s memory but his wife’s.

  That Ariya was adopted because…

  Well, we all know why Dad was suddenly interested in fostering a child.

  But I don’t say anything.

  Don’t burst the bubble.

  She’s happy.

  Even if it’s a lie, I want her to be happy.

  Time’s winding down.

  Sand falling through the glass.

  Bottom heavy.

  The doctors move in and out of Mom’s room, only to make her more comfortable.

  They’ve already told us.

  There’s nothing more that they can do.

  So I let Dad be.

  Allow him to fuss over her and coddle her like he gives a damn.

  Like he’s not a walking scumbag with a loose zipper and an addiction to satisfying the bastard in his pants no matter the cost.

  Even if the cost is his marriage.

  On the last day, I take Ariya out of school. We camp out in Mom’s room, me—reading one of her favorite books and Dad sitting in the corner doing wo
rk.

  Ariya curls up beside Mom, fitting herself between the wires and machines that have been brought in to keep her alive for just a little longer.

  She’s there when Mom closes her eyes for the last time.

  I’m holding Mom’s hand when she takes her last breath.

  Dad’s hunkered in the chair next to us when the machine beeps.

  Flat-lines.

  Just like that, she’s gone.

  But her body’s there.

  It’s still there.

  She still looks like the woman who made me breakfast, watched me while I slept and wiped all my tears when I needed her.

  Her eyes are shut, but they’ll open, right?

  The doctors are wrong.

  The machines are malfunctioning.

  They have to be.

  Damn.

  My mom…

  I can’t live without her.

  I can’t believe she’s gone.

  I don’t.

  I can’t…

  It doesn’t sink in until the funeral.

  Until they’re lowering her casket into the ground and asking me to throw dirt on top of the beautiful, varnished wood.

  Until Ariya starts sniffling.

  Until Kayla’s beside me, hugging me. Whispering that I’ll be okay.

  Chandra and Ollie are there.

  Zania and Teale.

  They’re all looking at me like this is it.

  Like Mom’s life is over.

  The pain…

  It sears me. Tears me from the roots of my soul.

  There’s sunlight above me, but the darkness is all around.

  I need to be strong for Ariya.

  Dad certainly won’t be.

  But I can’t hold myself up, much less find a way to keep her head above water too.

  That’s cowardly of me.

  I know.

  My fingers dig into the soft earth. I scoop up the dirt and then settle it into the hole where Mom will be buried.

  Suffocated…

  No, I can’t think like that.

  She’s not here.

  She’s gone.

  The tiny stones make a sound like rain when they fall against her casket.

  And then it’s over.

  I step back.

  Watch, eyes blurring with tears, as Ariya does the same.

  Then Dad.

  Then the workers are burying Mom until there’s nothing but soft earth and a tombstone.

  People are hugging me. Telling me it’s all going to be okay. That everything happens for a reason.

  I feel numb.

  Someone takes my hand.

  There’s a shock of warmth.

  It trickles from my fingers to the center of my chest.

  Ice thawing.

  Winter meeting spring.

  I glance at the fingers holding mine.

  Brown. Slender.

  Look up at Kayla.

  I almost smile.

  No wonder it felt so warm.

  No wonder…

  “Ready to go home?” she whispers.

  I swallow. “Dad expects me at the main house. My family will be there. Mom’s friends will—”

  “They won’t miss you.” She tugs me gently. “Even if they do, it doesn’t matter. You matter.”

  I matter.

  They drop like an anchor into my stomach.

  One of Mom’s last words to me before she passed.

  “You matter, Brendon. You’re always putting everyone but yourself first. Try chasing your own happiness now.”

  I push that out of my head.

  Ariya’s there in the car.

  We lock gazes.

  She looks away first.

  I should comfort her.

  I should say something profound.

  Something about how Mom was proud of her. She was.

  Or how it’s okay to hurt and that I’m here for her—always.

  The words get mangled in my throat.

  Instead, I squeeze her hand.

  Climb in the passenger seat.

  Kayla drives.

  No one says anything.

  We get home and Ariya’s the first one out of the car mumbling that she’s tired.

  I climb out next.

  Kayla takes my hand again.

  It’s warm again.

  We enter the living room.

  I fall into the sofa.

  Kayla kicks off her shoes. It’s a fluid motion. One that tells me she feels at home here.

  “I’ll get you some water,” she says quietly.

  I snatch her hand before she can leave.

  Wrap my fingers over her wrist.

  Test the theory that she’s the one providing the warmth that I need.

  She is.

  I yank her down into the couch.

  She stumbles into my chest, her black skirt billowing with the fall. I wrap my arms around her, hooking my hands at her stomach. Bury my nose in her hair. Press my chest against her back.

  Damn. She’s so warm.

  She’s what I need right now.

  I rest my chin on her head.

  Savor the way she fits against me.

  The warmth spreads all over, from the top of my head to my feet.

  I pull her in.

  Aching for more.

  More of that warmth.

  More of her presence.

  Kayla’s hand cups my cheek. “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay.”

  I’m not.

  “I can’t imagine how much pain you’re in.” Her fingers graze down to my shoulder. It’s like silk against my skin.

  I capture her hand.

  Press a kiss to her wrist.

  My chest rises and falls.

  There’s so much in my head, but at least I’m not numb.

  At least there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

  And it’s got a name.

  “Kayla…”

  “Tell me what you need.”

  I suck in a deep breath.

  “Tell me,” she demands.

  “You.”

  Brown eyes meet mine. Full of love. Full of tenderness. “Is that all?”

  I nod, my chin ghosting across her forehead.

  She’s in my arms.

  Where I need her to be.

  “That’s all.”

  That’s everything.

  Thirty-One

  Brendon

  The days flow by in a blur. Kayla wearing my T-shirt in the morning. Ariya at the breakfast table, munching on bacon and groaning about school. A new acquisition at work. Looks of pity and condolences that are still trickling in from Sol and the other workers who hate me.

  Dad reminding me about that underhanded contract he forced me to sign.

  Teale stopping by just to brag about his hot wife.

  The deafening silence in the house.

  My sister attempting to plow through every synonym in the dictionary for the words ‘I’m fine’.

  Kayla’s laughter on the other end of the phone after a long day at work.

  A night out with Teale and Ollie who are noticeably sedate after marriage.

  Another exhausting day at work. Dad stopping by with his new girlfriend, Mom still fresh in her grave. Venting to Kayla later, those brown eyes attentive and glistening.

  Another failed attempt to get Ariya to unpack her feelings. A long phone call with Kayla about whether or not I should get my sister to see a therapist.

  Realizing I’m the only parental figure in her life now that Mom’s gone.

  Stumbling beneath the weight of that responsibility.

  Trying to keep it all together while missing my mother.

  Everything is pressing me down.

  Grinding me into the dirt.

  But I have to keep moving.

  Breaking down won’t bring Mom back. Won’t solve any problems. Won’t keep me from feeling like I’m going crazy.

  One step at a time.

  It’s not like I’m alone.
/>   Kayla’s right there.

  Proving why Mom fell in love with her on sight.

  Exactly the way I did.

  My friends are stepping up too. Constantly volunteering to help pick up Ariya from school when I can’t.

  Like they did today.

  It’s Friday night. I get home late. Call upstairs for Ariya.

  There’s no answer.

  “Ariya?” I yell.

  There’s a door slam.

  It’s coming from my room.

  Weird.

  Ariya has her own bathroom.

  I take the stairs two at a time, knock on the door and ease it open. “Ariya?”

  Not Ariya.

  It’s Kayla, stepping out of my bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

  Her hair in a bun.

  A smile on her lips.

  My heart starts beating like crazy.

  My eyes flicker to her bare toes. Back to her eyes.

  Drops of water ease down her shoulder.

  I move toward her. Drawn to her.

  No, it’s more severe than that.

  I’m magnetically attracted to her.

  Anything that gets in my way will be sucked up or trampled.

  “Hey,” she says. “You’re home.”

  “Yeah.”

  Brown eyes stare intently. “Are you okay?”

  Kayla asks that a lot. About as much as I ask Ariya.

  “Yeah.”

  I am now.

  I am whenever she’s around. Most of the time, there’s so much crap in my head—work, family, stress—but whenever Kayla’s in front of me or in my ear or just breathing in my orbit, things shift.

  She claims my headspace.

  It’s hers, not mine.

  Not my worries.

  Nothing.

  Damn. I’m so consumed by her I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t in my life. Can’t imagine an alternate reality where we never met.

  “You look nice,” I murmur, stopping in front of her.

  She snorts. “I’m naked.”

  “Exactly.”

  She smiles.

  That…

  That right there is worth going to war for.

  “I’m assuming Ariya’s still at Teale and Zania’s.” I step forward.

  Kayla steps back. “You’d be assuming right.”

  “So…” I close the distance between us, holding her eyes, “you just snuck into my house—”

  “The housekeeper let me in.”

  "—got naked and took a shower in my bathroom…”

  “Because I was sweaty from working out. Ollie’s a task-master. I’m never going back to his gym.”

  Words aren’t working.

  My body’s going to have to get this point across.