by Naima Simone
“Trusting. In love,” Sophia corrected softly. Daring to move, to touch him, she scooted closer to him and placed a hand on his thigh. “You can’t be faulted for that.”
“Yes, I can,” he argued, but didn’t push her hand away. “Trust and love aren’t excuses for being a fool. For not taking care of business. For damn near volunteering to be used. That’s my fault.”
She lightly squeezed the hard muscle beneath her hand. She didn’t agree, but no amount of contradicting would change his mind. “I take it you confronted Shalene.”
“And she denied it, of course. At first. But when she realized I knew everything, she blamed me for stealing her dreams. Said I owed her. And I stood there wondering if I’d ever truly known her, or if she’d been wearing a mask the entire time we’d been together. If she’d ever been truthful with me, or if we’d always been living a lie.” He rubbed a hand over the hair framing his mouth and shadowing his jaw. “She left, and I fired my agent, sold the house I’d bought for us, and moved on. But that wasn’t the end of it.”
A hollow opened in the pit of her stomach, the dread filling it causing her heart to pound against her rib cage. Not for the first time, she regretted opening this particular door. She had a feeling what he was about to reveal trumped all he’d already shared.
“A week after she moved out, Shalene called and told me she was pregnant. Four months along. I was shocked, of course, but unlike when we were in high school, I welcomed the news. Yeah, me and Shalene were done, and I would’ve preferred to give a child of mine what I didn’t have—parents who loved each other and lived under the same roof. But a baby.” He paused, stared straight ahead. “It seemed like I was being offered a second chance at being a father. And this time I could provide for him or her, was in the right place in my life where I could offer a child the world. And be the father my own hadn’t been. So, for the child’s sake, I put our differences aside and concentrated on co-parenting with Shalene.”
Jesus Christ. A baby. He’d never mentioned… That pit in her stomach yawned into a chasm. She forced herself to concentrate on his words instead of the chaotic thoughts and emotions whirling inside her head.
“We had a son. It was the best, the happiest moment of my life. Holding him for the first time, hearing his cry. Until then, I’d believed my purpose in life had been to play ball. But in that moment, it all changed. I knew I’d been born to be a father to my son. Almost immediately, Shalene started playing games, using him to get things out of me, allowing me to see him on her schedule. When she demanded child support, I didn’t mind, though. I’d already planned to provide for my son. But I didn’t trust her, so I insisted on going through our lawyers to set up the payments and visitations. With child support, I had to take a paternity test, but I didn’t care. It was a formality. Only it wasn’t.”
His voice cracked, and horror filled her. God, no. He couldn’t mean…
“I entered my attorney’s conference room that morning thinking we were going to iron out a visitation plan, and I found out that he wasn’t mine. With four words—zero chance of paternity—I discovered she’d cheated on me, and I lost a son.”
“Zephirin.” It was all she could say. What words could she possibly utter that would ease the pain so obvious in his voice? Her heart hurt for him, cried for him.
“After that, I was so fucked up in the head, my game suffered, my team started losing faith in me, couldn’t depend on me to mentally show up. I promised myself then I would never allow anything or anyone else to screw with me like that again. She…stole something from me. My belief in people, my trust, my…” He shook his head. “And I don’t think I’ll ever get it back.”
Mouth as dry as a desert floor, she stared at him, unable to speak. Now she understood why, from the first night they’d met, he’d insisted on honesty. Why he deplored lies. They’d almost shattered his life, almost robbed him of his one security—football. And the person who’d betrayed him had been a woman he’d loved.
“You haven’t forgiven her,” she finally murmured. Just like he won’t forgive you once he discovers the truth. The warning whispered through her head, increasing the apprehension and foreboding pressing against her rib cage and leaving no room for air.
The sensual curves of his mouth firmed into a grim line. “It’s done and in the past,” he stated, voice flat.
That would be a no. The ticking of the clock counting down the time they had left together grew in volume, almost deafening her. Her heart kept time, the rapid pulse beating an urgency through her veins. An urgency she heeded.
Uncaring that only his shirt covered her, she crawled on his lap, straddling him. His semi-hard flesh nestled against her folds, and unbidden, that flame of desire that never really extinguished around him flickered to life. But, for the moment, she ignored it, cupping his face between her palms. The same heat licking at her simmered in his hazel gaze, mingling with the anger, and yes, pain. Though she had no doubt he would deny the pain.
“Do you remember calling me a romantic? You said I watched my eighties movies for the romance. And yeah, you got me there…though I will never admit it again outside of these walls. But there’s another reason I’ve always been drawn to them. It never fails that the good person wins in the end. Nerd, unpopular, misfit, misunderstood, different—doesn’t matter. They always triumph, and the assholes get what they had coming. I wish life was like that. But it’s not. Most of those bullies who made my life a living hell all those years ago have gone on to have successful careers, families, and seem happy. I should know; I checked on Facebook.” And even at work, Brian got away with giving her the shaft.
“Is this a pep talk?” He arched an eyebrow, skepticism filling his voice. But the shadows in his gaze had diminished.
“It is, and I never claimed to be good at them.” She glared at him but probably ruined the effect of it by brushing her mouth over his. “What I’m saying is life often sucks. People act like they’ve lost their damn minds. Those we love and rely on to be our soft landing place snatch the safety net out from under us. Your agent betrayed the trust you’d placed in him. Shalene turned into a…” Stupid bitch. A bitch because she’d wounded Zephirin so deeply. Stupid because she’d had this proud man’s heart and had been so cruel, careless, and selfish with it. And all for fleeting things like money and fame. “Anyway, we can’t control that, and we damn sure can’t go all Kill Bill and ensure they get what’s coming to them. But what we can control is us. Our spirit, our hearts, our actions, and reactions. We can let the hurt and bitterness pollute us, or we can let it go—let them go—and allow all the shit to teach us, not scar us.”
His only reply was the flexing of his fingers at her waist. And the piercing intensity of his scrutiny.
“You”—she grazed his bottom lip with her teeth, soothed the sting with the tip of her tongue—“are beautiful”—a kiss pressed to the top lip—“strong”—another to the corner of his mouth—“honorable”—and another to the opposite corner—“giving”—one more to his chin—“and hot as fuck.” At his grunt of laughter, she grinned. “Don’t ever change.”
Sliding a hand under her shirt, he cupped her breast, toyed with the piercing. Her breath snagged in her lungs, and the smoldering fire inside her flashed into a full-out conflagration. He leaned forward, caught her mouth with his, swallowing her whimper.
And as he rolled, and his big body covered hers on the couch cushions, his mouth closing over her nipple, one thought prevailed before passion erased all logical thought.
She had to tell him the truth.
Even if it meant losing him.
Even if it meant breaking her.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m feeling all flattered that you tore yourself away from your girl to come work out with me.” Dom shot Zephirin a grin as he pushed out of the gym door and into the late Saturday morning sunshine.
Well, sunshine might be a little generous, Zephirin mused, squinting up at the slightly overcast sky
. The rain hadn’t made an appearance all week long, for which he’d been grateful with the summer camp. But they were due. And like true Seattle weather, when the rain eventually did roll in, it would hang around for a few days as if making up for lost time before blowing back out to sea. Maybe it would continue to hold out for just a while longer. With a mandatory mini-camp next week, his time with Sophia would be a little more limited. He’d planned to take her to Central Cinema that evening. Not only did the movie theater offer full-service dinner, but they showed retro and classic films. Tonight’s showing? The Lost Boys.
He smiled, imagining her reaction.
“Oh fuck,” Dom muttered, heading down East Pike Street where the Capitol Hill gym was located. The small training center was nowhere near his friend’s Kirkland home, but Dom preferred the plain grittiness of the place. Claimed it reminded him of home. “You’re smiling for no damn reason. You, of all people. This thing with the model is more far gone than I originally thought.”
“What the hell are you talking about now?” Zephirin asked. Dom made it sound like he walked around with a puss on his face. He wasn’t that bad…was he? He frowned.
“Last time we talked about Giovanna Cruz, you were denying anything more than a hit-it-and-quit-it existed between the two of you—”
“I never said anything about a hit-it-and-quit-it,” Zephirin interrupted. Even when they’d agreed to only a night, he’d never considered her someone to be discarded like a used tissue.
“Oh that’s right. You planned on fucking her out of your system. My bad,” Dom amended.
Zephirin grimaced. That didn’t sound any better now than it had when Ronin had suggested it. And when he’d offered the same arrangement to Sophia.
“Now, you’ve been spending every evening with her. She’s slept at your place where, as far as we know, no woman has ever been invited, and you’re just smiling.” His friend added a mock shudder. “What the hell, man?”
“We’re…” His frown deepened.
“Hanging? Smashing? Screwing like demented rabbits?” his friend supplied.
“Are you serious?” Zephirin shook his head, splaying his hands wide, palms up. “Hell, I don’t know what we’re doing or what we are.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” Zephirin repeated with a snort. “Is that your Iyanla Vanzant imitation? Needs work.”
“Is this you trying to dodge the question?” Dom persisted.
“Was there a question?”
Dom studied him, eyes narrowed. “It’s like that, huh?” he asked after a long moment. “So when did it go from casual fucking to ‘I don’t know what we’re doing’?”
“I…” The denial hovered on his tongue, but he couldn’t utter it.
Because he couldn’t refute Dom’s claim that this thing between him and Sophia—arrangement no longer seemed like an appropriate term—had become more. He also couldn’t pinpoint the moment when it had changed.
Didn’t want to admit that acknowledging it scared the shit out of him.
This was supposed to be uncomplicated, straightforward lust and sex. A walk-away-no-regrets-or-backward-glances agreement. The last time he was involved with a woman, he hadn’t walked away…he’d crawled. And the thought of being that vulnerable, in pain, and out of control again had icy slivers of unease sliding through him.
And then he still couldn’t shake the feeling that Sophia harbored secrets. Or maybe secrets was too strong a word. But she held something back; she’d never explained what had been bothering her that night in the car. And he’d never asked her about where she’d been Thursday night when she’d been late to show up at the high school.
To another man, these things wouldn’t rise to the level of questionable. But he’d learned the hard way to pay attention to that instinct insisting something was not quite right.
“Hey, isn’t that your girl?” Dom’s question snapped him out of his thoughts. He paused next to the hood of his truck, but his attention was fixed across the busy street.
Zephirin scanned the buildings. A consignment shop, a skate store, a closed nightclub, and—there. In front of the deli restaurant a couple stood close to each other. The guy, several inches taller than the woman, lowered his head to hers and kissed her brow. She wrapped her arms around his waist, cuddling against him. When she pressed her cheek to his chest, Zephirin had a clear view of her face.
Sophia.
With another man.
When she’d told Zephirin she had to work for a few hours that morning.
A cold numbness spread through his body, paralyzing him so all he could do was watch as she tilted her head back and smiled widely up at the man who returned her grin. They appeared close, familiar. Intimate.
“Zeph,” Dom said, as anger started to burn through the paralysis. “He could be anyone—”
“Let’s go,” he bit out.
A scowl darkened Dom’s face, but he remotely released the locks on the vehicle and stalked around the front. Zephirin jerked open the passenger door and slid inside.
There was always an explanation. Always an excuse.
But he didn’t know if there was anything left in him to believe them.
…
Sophia yanked the front door to her town home open and grinned at the person standing on the other side of the threshold.
Giovanna returned the smile even as she spoke into the cell phone pressed to her ear. “Yes, Mama. I will.” Pause. Eye roll. “I just got to Fi’s house, so I’ll call you back.” Another pause and nod even though their mother obviously couldn’t see the gesture. “I will. Okay. Love you.” Lowering the phone with an exaggerated grimace, she laughed and threw her arms around Sophia. She returned the hug, squeezing her twin.
God, she’d missed her. Usually, they talked at least twice a day and saw each other three to four times a week. With Giovanna being out of the country, Sophia hadn’t been able to catch up with her best friend and closest confidante, and it’d been hell. Especially given the recent turn of events.
Sex-only arrangement with Zephirin.
Her job.
Falling for Zephirin.
Just the terrifying thought creeping through her mind had Sophia holding Giovanna tighter. And if there was a hint of desperation in the embrace, well… She’d never been able to hide anything from her other half.
“Hola, chica,” Giovanna greeted. “I need to leave the country more often so you can appreciate me when I’m here,” she joked. “But can I come in at least?”
“Oh shut up,” Sophia muttered, releasing her and, grabbing her hand, dragged her inside off the porch.
At one time, Giovanna had crashed in the two-bedroom, two-bath apartment before finding her own place. So when her sister headed straight for the kitchen and refrigerator, it was with the movements of someone who was comfortable and at home. Moments later, Giovanna gracefully dropped onto the couch, iced tea in hand.
“Mama said she loves you, and she’s expecting you at dinner on Sunday. She’s cooking arroz con pollo.”
Horror slid through Sophia. “No,” she gasped.
“Yes.” Giovanna shook her head. “I blame Papa for this. He should’ve told his wife a long time ago that her chicken and rice tastes like cafeteria mystery meat. Oh.” A wicked smile curved her mouth. “She’s also invited Red.”
“Which Red? There are a few Reds.” True. In their neighborhood, it was typical to refer to someone by their physical characteristics, and there were several gingers. Almost no one knew their real names; honestly, as far as most people were concerned, the nicknames were their real names. Skinny chick. Fat guy. Little kid with the big nose. That’s how the neighborhood identified them. Yep, charming.
“Flacito rojo.” Skinny Red, shortened to just Red in English. “Marcella’s son,” Giovanna supplied.
Sophia flipped through her mental Rolodex and finally settled on an image of a stout, bull-necked man with brick-red hair and ruddy skin. In his case, the “skinny” was definit
ely ironic.
“No.” Sophia groaned, covering her face. “Please tell me, not him. He has the personality of a potato. For the love of all that’s holy, why?”
Giovanna shrugged, the glass she lifted for a sip not hiding her shit-eating grin. “She thinks you two would make a cute couple. He has a job, comes from a good family, and would take care of you. Her words, not mine.”
“I think I’m coming down with the bird flu. Or mad cow disease,” Sophia complained.
“As if that’s going to work.” Giovanna snickered.
Relegating the upcoming torture of Sunday dinner to the side, Sophia shook her head and smiled at her sister. “I thought you were coming home tomorrow,” she said, curling up in the chair across from the couch.
Mirroring Sophia’s position, Giovanna tucked her feet under her thighs. “I was able to catch an earlier flight.” She eyed Sophia over the rim of her glass. “I tried calling you this morning to see if you wanted to catch breakfast, but you didn’t answer. So I took Raymond instead. And believe me, he was delighted with a free meal.”
Sophia didn’t doubt it. Giovanna had met the other man through their modeling agency. But last year, he’d semi-retired from fashion and had opened a gay nightclub in Capitol Hill. Though the club had proved to be a popular hot spot, his finances were still touch-and-go, so when the opportunity for free anything came up, he snatched it.
“Sorry. I would’ve loved to hang with you two, but I had to go to work for a few hours,” Sophia explained.