This Is Love

by Nana Malone

  Aniyah looked at the bauble on her finger. She loved to stare at it and often found herself doing so when they made love. Was that strange?

  “Denton?” she said softly. He did not answer. If he had decided to leave, he would’ve had to come her way. He was there, but ignoring her. Why?

  Aniyah placed her hands to her hips and stared up the spiral staircase that led to the single bedroom. The sky windows allowed a perfect view of the stars at night but captured all the heat of the Chicago sun during the day. She was glad they’d finally agreed she’d move out of her cramped apartment into his spacious loft instead of buying a house in the suburbs after the wedding.

  “Sweetheart? Did you hear me calling you?” she yelled up to the top floor. No answer. Aniyah gave in. She marched up the stairs. She found Denton in his bathroom. He’d remodeled the year before and the bathroom was almost equal in size to the bedroom. The entire room was covered in black granite with silver trim. Very masculine. He’d even gone as far as installing a black marble toilet that had an inside light so you didn’t have to turn on the bathroom light at night to find it. They would definitely have to redecorate.

  Denton stood before the tall mirror. He glanced at her reflection in the glass. He dismissed her and continued to swipe the straight razor across his jaw. Aniyah knew he was in one of his moods. She let go of her own frustration before she walked in and hugged his waist. He rinsed the shaving cream down the sink. She pressed her cheek against the strong arch of his back and enjoyed the warmth and body heat in her arms. She loved the smell of him after he had freshly showered and shaved.

  Denton was six foot two. He had deep brown skin, a dark thick mustache and silky black brows over eyes the color of honey. He was what she and her friends referred to as a metrosexual yummy, all the way down to his manicured nails and tailored business suits. He had more money and fame than any man in the business she’d ever dated. He was the best support system she ever needed financially, emotionally and, of course, physically. She’d fallen in love with him the day he stepped up behind her and offered to pay for her coffee. Tall, impeccably dressed and smelling of spice and sophistication, he had all the qualities necessary to disarm her usual instinct to avoid strangers. He was one stranger she’d love to get dangerous with. That’s why she’d patiently waited for this happiness of soon being his wife.

  “Did you even take the time to look at the seating chart?” she asked and peppered his back with light kisses. “You put your aunt’s dog as your other aunt’s husband.”

  “Aunt who?” he said and bristled.

  “Never mind, I fixed it. By the way, you still have to get fitted for your tux. They called and said you missed two appointments.”

  “I’m filming for the food and wine festival,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Well, you have to find time, sweetheart. And the fitting for your brothers is this Sunday—” The words trailed off into his uninterested silence. She let go of his waist and stepped back.

  “What’s up?” she asked. “You upset about something?”

  “You finished?” he answered and rinsed his hands.

  “What?”

  “Are you finished!” He wiped his face and then tossed the rag into the sink. He then turned on her as if she were some petulant child. His dark brows lowered and his eyes pierced in a way she found familiar.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “I swear, babe, when you get to talking about the wedding, you can’t stop running your mouth,” he said.

  She masked her hurt with a soft chuckle. But the barb stung. No, his words pierced. She felt it right to the center of her heart. She double blinked at him as he stared down at her.

  “All you do is talk about this wedding. Day after day. Nothing else ever comes out of your mouth.”

  “Why is that a bad thing?” Aniyah asked. “We’re getting married in two weeks.”

  “Why! Why? Because...” He paused. “Oh, hell, this is going to be hard.”

  Denton pressed his lips together and leaned back on his hands, which gripped the edge of the granite sink. He didn’t have to say the words. A woman knows. She knows when her man is happy. A woman in love can sense when her man is hurt or sad. It’s in his voice, his body language, his eyes. Aniyah had noticed the way he rolled his eyes when someone brought up the wedding, lately, and how he’d make love to her instead of talking about her dress or the caterers. What had she done wrong to bring them to this point? Love him?

  “Tell me. What’s the problem?” she asked and cringed at the pathetic, weepy way her voice surrounded the question.

  “I was going to talk about this at dinner. But we might as well get into it now,” Denton said.

  “Get into it?” she repeated.

  Denton wiped his hand down his face. He did this when he fought back frustration and weighed her reaction against his confession. She could feel her heart rupturing beneath her breast. Her breathing became labored and her throat incredibly dry. She kept swallowing. One thing was now clear. She hadn’t imagined the lack of interest Denton had shown since they began planning the wedding. She’d simply ignored it.

  “You know what, get dressed. We can talk about this after you cool off,” she said. She turned to leave but Denton caught her wrist. He pulled her back over to him. “I need to call my aunt. Stop—and, and, and...”

  “I love you, Aniyah. I do. But this—it’s too much, babe, even for me,” he said.

  “Fine. The festival is huge. You’re the top chef. Mega pressure. I get it. I’ll deal with the seating arrangement.” She gripped the sides of his face and gave him a soft kiss. “You have to get involved here, honey. It’s not just my wedding. It’s your day too. You have no problem telling me what you like, what makes you unhappy, how is this any different? Let’s not stress over it. Here’s what you can do...”

  “Stop talking,” he said.

  She did as he asked.

  “I don’t want to get married,” he blurted.

  She laughed. “Of course you do.”

  “Babe, I love you, I do. But marriage? I can’t. I really did think I could do this, but I made a mistake. Let’s take a break and then maybe we can rethink it, just a short break, a year or...”

  Aniyah slapped him. She’d never hit anyone in her life before. Her palm stung. Stunned, full of shameful regret, she shuffled back on her feet and nearly fell flat on her rump. She recovered and backed away from him. He didn’t react. Or maybe he did—how could she really know when she couldn’t see his face through her tears?

  Aniyah fled into the bedroom and Denton followed. “You asshole! You proposed to me. You told my aunt, my friends, you said...you said that you wanted to spend your life with me!”

  Aniyah took off in the wrong direction. She meant to head for the stairs. Instead, she stopped at the bed and put her hands to her face. Her misery felt like a steel weight chained to her heart. The proposal and every promise he’d ever made to her now on instant replay in her mind. She had heard and seen him give the performance of his life, clearly. Bravo! Denton Jones wanted her to be his wife. He’d said so. Now she had to believe he and his fake promises were all a lie.

  “You pressured me,” he said.

  She spun on him. Rage swelled in her like a nuclear cloud. She felt her cheeks and chest puff with indignation. Her nails cut into her palms from her hands being clenched into tight fists. “Pressure? I pressured you? I spent three years of my life making sure there was no pressure, you jerk!”

  Denton put his hands to his shaved head. “That’s not what I mean, sweetheart.”

  “What do you mean?” she shouted. “Say it! Say it!”

  “There are different kinds of pressure. Okay! You kept talking about getting married like it was the natural step for us. It isn’t. I love you, I do, but I don’t want to be married
to anyone. I thought I could do this because frankly, we’re hot together. Everyone sees it. And hell, call me a bastard, but I don’t want to give you up to another man. But I can’t get married! Not to you. Not to any woman. I need to be my own man.”

  The truth was the final blow. Aniyah refused to spend another minute taking in his nonsense. She ran for the stairs, but Denton stopped her. He tried to embrace her. The jerk even had the nerve to try to kiss her! She fought back. Who needed this crap from a man who was supposed to be her hero? Who needed Denton Jones? But the truth was she did. And that was what hurt the most. She had put all her dreams and faith into them and not herself. She’d been a fool. She shoved her way out of his arms and went down the stairs in tears.

  “Where are you going?” Denton shouted after her. “Don’t leave. Please, babe, let me explain.”

  Wounded with humiliation, she grabbed her purse and her car keys. When she tried to run for the door he had already reached it, blocking her only exit. She was forced to look up into his lying face, and the tears flowed.

  “You want space. Fine. You’re free, Denton. No pressure. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

  “That’s ridiculous! Save the hysteria for your acting classes,” he shouted. “This is why it can never work between us. I want a girlfriend, not a wife. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  “No. It means you don’t know me. I’m not settling for anyone who can’t commit to me. Three years and now you don’t know what you want? Get out of my way!” she said.

  With no other choice left, Denton finally stepped aside. Aniyah paused. “Mama,” she said softly.

  She glanced back to her mother’s pearls—she’d left them on the breakfast nook. She walked over and swept them all into a nearby small plastic baggie with extreme care. She didn’t bother with the wedding planning book or even the laptop he had bought her for Christmas. She had her mother’s pearls and that was enough. She wiped her tears and straightened her back. She walked out on the promise they’d made to each other and the man she’d been prepared to love for the rest of her life. And it hurt. What hurt more was the way he closed the door on her. She glanced back once over her shoulder and saw the look on his face. It didn’t mirror the pain she carried in her heart. It was a look of relief.

  Chapter 2

  “Aniyah? Sweetheart, are you in here?” Samantha called out to her.

  The door to her bedroom opened. Aniyah looked up from her tearstained pillow and tried to speak. Her voice was gone. So much crying and screaming through the night had exhausted her both mentally and physically.

  “Sweetheart. I drove through the night. Oh, honey, stop crying, I promise you will be okay.” Samantha walked over to the bed. Aniyah reached for her best friend and wept in her arms. She cried the last of her tears. At least for the night.

  “I’m sorry you had to leave your retreat. I’m so sorry,” Aniyah said.

  “Don’t be sorry. I was sick of those meditating robots. I’m just glad I broke the rules and checked my messages. Did you turn your phone off after? I’ve been calling.”

  Aniyah nodded that she had before she dropped back in exhaustion on her pillow. Her bed was covered in crumpled tissues. Her face was swollen from her grief.

  “Okay, start from the beginning.” Samantha tossed her purse aside. She sat on the bed as a doctor would for any despondent patient. But there was nothing Samantha could do to fix this. There was nothing anyone could do.

  “I told you already. He called off the wedding, Sam.”

  “You had a fight. That happens. He has the wedding jitters or something,” Samantha reasoned.

  “No. No. No! This wasn’t just a fight. He wanted out. He acted like I had forced him to propose. I feel so stupid. Three years with that asshole and he all but accused me of dragging him to the altar. I feel like someone died. It hurts in my stomach, my head, my heart.” She clutched her chest.

  “Hush now,” Samantha said. She looked down to Aniyah’s lap. “What is this?”

  Aniyah wiped her tears. She couldn’t speak. Her thoughts were clogged with emotion.

  “Oh, my, this is beautiful. Did you do this?”

  The gold necklace had four pearls on it. When she got home she’d spent the first six hours working on it. Being busy helped. It wasn’t the best work she’d done, but it was nice enough to preserve her mother’s pearls. “They were supposed to be on my wedding dress.”

  The tears came once more. Samantha knocked away the snot tissues and eased into bed next to her. She lay on her side and looked down at Aniyah. “It’s okay. I promise we will figure it out.”

  “I thought he loved me. I thought he was the one. He’s right. I’ve been the one pushing. For everything. What is wrong with me?”

  “It’s not a bad thing to fall in love. It just a hard thing to stay in love. A man has to want it in his life. If he doesn’t, then it’s best you find out now. Right?”

  “I guess,” she sniffed. “I put everything into this relationship. What am I going to do now?”

  Aniyah had dumped her entire savings into the wedding. The best acting jobs she gotten were through Denton’s contacts. After the proposal she switched gears and taken some voice-over classes. But that wasn’t a lucrative business for her.

  “What do you want to do? Talk to him? Call your aunt? Call your agent? What?” Samantha asked.

  “No. It’s over. And you know my agent is his agent. He won’t do anything for me. Probably will drop me before the end of the week.” Aniyah wept. “Do me a favor.”

  “Anything, sweetheart.”

  “I’ll need you to make some calls for me. Please. I can’t deal with anyone right now. Just...tell people...it’s over. The wedding is off.”

  “Okay, I’ll do that.” Samantha smiled. “We’ll figure it out.”

  * * *

  Aniyah passed a mirror. That was her first mistake. The woman reflected back to her was gaunt with bloodshot eyes. Her hair was tangled in knots that seemed to reach all the way to the roots. Her lips were chapped, and her eyes were swollen and puffy around the lids. She was stunned at the ashy, dull luster to her medium-brown complexion. She imagined that this must be what a corpse looked like after being abandoned to rot. Nearly two weeks ago her heart had been broken. Not enough time to properly heal.

  Aniyah picked up her cell phone and turned it on. That was her second mistake. After the breakup she’d gone radio silent. She wouldn’t even turn on the television. She just sat in bed and read her favorite books over and over while binge eating corn chips and mint ice cream. Samantha gave up three days in and let her mope, but then Samantha got an acting gig that called for her to return to Atlanta.

  Aniyah was alone.

  The phone vibrated in Aniyah’s hand. She had thirty-two new voice mail messages. She sat at her kitchen table and felt the tears welling in her eyes. When she looked at all the messages from caterers, reception halls, friends and family she expected to see a call from Denton. He should be begging for forgiveness by now. But there wasn’t one missed call from her ex-fiancé. There were no messages. He had truly abandoned her.

  Did everyone know? Was this what it was like to be left at the altar? The humiliation was debilitating.

  The phone rang in her hands. Startled, Aniyah looked down at an international number she didn’t know.

  “Ah, hello?” she answered.

  “Buon giorno! Am I speaking to Signora Jones?”

  Aniyah wasn’t sure how to respond. The person assumed she was married. Aniyah glanced up to the wall calendar to realize that yesterday would have actually been her wedding, February 11. In all her depression she had lost track of time. She had even managed to block out the day she was supposed to be married.

  “Hello? Hello, signora? Are you there?”

  “I—ah�
�I am. Who is this?”

  “My name is Gabriella, but most here call me Zia. When you arrive you are welcome to as well. I am calling to confirm your arrival to Camogli. We are excited for you and your new husband. The festival has already begun, but you will arrive in time for San Valentino! We have so much planned. What time will your flight land in Genoa? We will have driver sent for you.”

  “Flight...yeah, uh, I think I land at noon?” Aniyah said.

  “Va bene! We welcome your arrival. We welcome you. Ciao for now!”

  “Ciao.” Aniyah smiled. She had forgotten about the honeymoon. It was the only thing that Denton had paid for. She insisted on paying for her wedding, though he had offered. She wanted to prove her independence. Sure it took her forever to save for the expense, and right now every spare dime she had was spent. But it was her big day. She was determined to start their life out as partners no matter how much more money he made than her. They had planned to go to the most romantic place in the world: a small village called Camogli in Liguria, Italy, that held a big lovers’ event on St. Valentine’s Day. The private seafront resort, Mi Amore, catered to no more than twenty guests and was open to married couples only. And it would be the perfect getaway.

  Aniyah got up and found her old laptop. She opened it and crossed her fingers that it still worked. After ten minutes of trying, it connected to her email and she accessed the account. After a few searches she pulled up the itinerary. Her flight left in six hours. She called the airline to confirm her ticket was there. It was. Denton hadn’t canceled it.

  What should she do? Should she go? How could she go? Denton made considerably more money than she did and had paid for the first-class airline tickets and the expense of the resort in advance. She, however, wanted to do her part. The sad truth was she was broke. She and her aunt had spent lavishly on the wedding, and all of her refundable deposits were being held up. There was no time to negotiate the funds for a trip to Italy. No money. To her horror, the laptop blinked to a black screen, then a blue screen.