by Untamed
Suddenly filled with remorse, I placed my head in my hands. “I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, but I’m just so frustrated with people looking at me as if I have a third eye in my forehead.”
“Forget those people and what they think. It ain’t nobody’s business but yours. You don’t owe nobody nothing, so it is what it is. Personally, I admire you. It takes a strong person to deal with someone who is HIV positive, and you handle yourself with grace and class. On the humble, I really respect you.”
His words etched a blush on my face. “Now, that game was very tight.”
He playfully pushed me. “Get the fuck outta here.” He laughed. “Again, that wasn’t my game, but I’ll take that compliment.”
Becoming aware of the time, I glanced at my watch. “Shit, my break was over ten minutes ago.”
“Yeah, that’s why I was looking for you.”
“Well, aren’t you going to chastise me for being late?”
He stood up and looked down at me with lust-filled eyes. “Do I get to spank you?” he asked seductively.
Giggles escaped me, and my cheeks instantly deepened in redness from blushing. “Oh my God.”
He pointed at me. “Now, that was my game.”
Standing up, I gazed into his smoldering brown eyes. “It sure as hell was.” I winked at him and turned to leave.
He followed me out the door. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said once we were in the hallway.
Turning, I looked up at him. “I know. Maybe one day I’ll answer it for you.”
He laughed. “Maybe I’ll get the answer I’m looking for.”
“Maybe, Mr. Randall. Maybe,” I said as we went to finish up our rounds.
Chapter Five
Charice
The atmosphere in the house had been extremely tense since our surprise visit from Lincoln. Come to find out, everything that he’d said was true to form. He had signed a contract with the Giants and was moving to New York. When Ryan verified that information, he cursed harder and louder than I’d ever heard. I knew he wanted to keep Lincoln far away from me, and I couldn’t blame him. Not even a full year ago, I was about to marry that man. I guess I would be a little crazy about the idea, too, if I were in his shoes.
Hell, I had my own reasons to stay away from Lincoln. Yes, as you may have guessed, my baby girl, Lexi, was really fathered by Lincoln. I’d actually found out I was pregnant when Charity was first admitted into the hospital. At the time, I had every intention of telling Lincoln; however, my focus had to be on Charity. With the way our breakup went, I just couldn’t stomach being around him while battling to keep myself together for my daughter.
When Lincoln left me, I felt like my world had ended, literally. I loved him with my heart, body, mind, and soul. I’d given him everything in me that only Ryan had once consumed, and my love for him had taken over every possibility of me falling for Ryan again. I loathed Lincoln for what he did to me. I was at my lowest point when he left me, and it was further compounded by the illness and subsequent death of my daughter. Even after Ryan and I got married, it took a minute for me to give my all to him because of my feelings for Lincoln. Now, with Lincoln being on the same team, it posed all kinds of problems. There was no doubt that he and Ryan hated each other, and personally, I didn’t want him around me or our daughter.
The reason Ryan and I became as close as we did—besides the obvious reason of our daughter fighting for her life—was because he was the first person I told about my pregnancy. I expected him to go ballistic, but he was extremely calm and understanding. He stepped up as the protector that he is and really focused on me, so that I could be as healthy and as stress free as possible given the circumstances. That was what made me fall in love with him again. Ryan had proven to me that we were meant to be a family, and I decided to give our love another go.
I also decided that since Lincoln did not appreciate the family that I was willing to provide for him, then he didn’t need to know about Lexi. I mean, really? Was I supposed to sit back and be like his other baby’s mother, Lauren, and not get any physical, emotional, or financial support from him? Hell no. I’d played that part with Ryan for far too long, and I wasn’t about to play it with Lincoln.
The only person that brought me joy and kept me grounded was Ryan. He made me feel like life was worth living again. He gave me the courage to continue being a great mother to our boys and to appreciate the blessing in my pregnancy. Therefore, Ryan and I agreed that we would raise Lexi as our daughter. I didn’t need or want a thing from Lincoln Harper, and Ryan didn’t want Lincoln involved in our lives, so it just worked.
Now, looking back on everything, I couldn’t even believe I’d actually fallen for Lincoln and chosen him over Ryan. I’d always regret that moment. Always. It took a long time to get Lincoln Harper out of my system, and I’d be damned if he was going to bulldoze his way back into my life.
On my way home from clothes shopping for Lexi, I noticed a moving van parked in front of a house three doors down from mine, with movers unloading boxes. I drove down to the house.
“Excuse me, who is moving in here?” I asked a mover through the opened passenger-side window of my car after I pulled over.
One of the movers stopped and smiled at me. “The great Lincoln Harper. He’s going to be on the greatest team on Earth now. I know those Cowboys are going to be upset! First, we got Ryan Westmore, and now Lincoln Harper.”
My heart instantly plunged down to my toes. How the hell could he honestly move on the same street as Ryan and me? How heartless was this bastard? Why did he need a big-ass house like this anyway? He only had one daughter. Okay, well, two daughters—but only one that he knew of that would visit him. He wasn’t married, and it was not like he needed the space for his family. They lived in New York. He could’ve purchased a two- or three-bedroom condo in the city.
“Looking for me?” Lincoln’s voice resonated in my ear from my driver’s side.
Startled, I jumped and clutched my chest. “You scared the shit out of me!” I gasped then removed my shades before turning off my car.
He kneeled down so that we were eye level. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just pulled up behind you and saw that you were in front of my house. It’s good to see you again, Charice. I’m so glad that we get to be neighbors.”
I rolled my eyes. “Why are you even here? You’re one man. You don’t need a house this big,” I fussed, ignoring his greeting.
“Is that any way to treat your neighbor? Geez, you’ve been in New Yitty too long. You’re already losing your Southern hospitality,” he joked.
“No, I haven’t lost my Southern hospitality. I just don’t feel like being hospitable to you,” I sneered, putting back on my shades.
He chuckled softly. “It really doesn’t have to be this way. Look, why don’t you come inside, have a drink with me, and take a tour of my house? We are neighbors. We should learn to get along with each other.”
Was he serious? Anger swelled inside of me, and I started my Mercedes McLaren to leave. “I would rather drink a bottle of ammonia and sit in the county hospital ER than to share anything—especially my time—with you.”
He put his head down and then looked back up at me with sadness. “I’m sorry that you feel that way, ma.”
No. The. Fuck. He. Didn’t. That one word triggered me. I glared at him. “Don’t call me ma. Don’t ever call me that again,” I warned.
“Charice, from the bottom of my heart, I swear I’m sorry—”
“Have a nice life, Lincoln. Enjoy your house but stay away from mine.” I drove off, leaving him standing in the middle of the street. Bastard.
Chapter Six
Lincoln
Watching Charice drive off was yet another dig in my heart. It was moments like those that really got to me. Why did I still have to love her after all this time? I’d put everything into my season with the Cowboys to make up for the agonizing pain I was feeling on the inside. Sti
ll, it could not take away the fact that my heart longed to be with the only woman I’d ever truly loved. Charice. I couldn’t escape her. She invaded my thoughts and my dreams. At any given moment, my mind would drift off, just thinking about her. Every night I went to bed, I dreamt of her. At first it bothered me, but now it was just a part of my nightly slumber.
I remembered everything about her. Everything. I remembered how my fingers felt running through her long, thick, mahogany hair. I loved the way she used to caress my face after we made love. Her smile was innocent and infectious. I missed seeing her in my wifebeaters and jerseys and the way her luscious Georgia peach booty would bounce in short shorts. I missed how she would shyly play with her hair and bite on her bottom lip. I remembered how she’d close one eye and flutter the other while tilting her head back as she reached her climax from our lovemaking. I missed her dancing, her laughter, and the way she used to make me feel like there could be a hundred sexy men in the room and she’d only be focused on me. I missed the nutritious meals she’d made me, the advice she’d given me on my portfolio and my non-profits. I missed her intellect, her charisma, and her style. I missed the way she had a no-nonsense attitude while still allowing me to be a man. I missed—her. I more than missed her. I loved her.
Charice had been through so much, and I could’ve beaten myself for not being there for her the way I should’ve been. I felt like such a coward, and in a lot of ways, I was. When Charice really needed me to be there for her—the way I promised I would—I’d abandoned her and all the love she had to offer me.
As I grabbed my suitcase out of my SUV, I wished that Charice had come in and allowed me a chance to apologize to her. I needed to say it a lot more than she needed to hear it, but she had left me standing there, looking like the fool that I was.
“Excuse me, Mr. Harper,” one of the movers called out to me, breaking my train of thought. I turned to face him.
“Yes?”
“You have a visitor on your back patio.”
“Thanks.” I wanted to be alone to sulk in peace, but now I had to entertain an unknown houseguest. “Why don’t you fellas take about an hour break and come back?”
“You ain’t said nothing but a word. Yo, fellas, break time,” he called to the other four men. “Let’s roll.” They jumped in the truck and left.
I walked to the back. Ryan was sitting on my patio furniture, drinking a beer. He had a scowl on his face as he cleared his throat of the strong taste. He leaned forward and looked at me eye-to-eye.
“Stay away from my family,” he ordered.
Look at this nigga, I thought. I couldn’t help but to laugh. “You’re over here. I’m not at your house. And just why are you on my property without my permission? That’s called trespassing.” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“If you don’t stay away from Charice, you’ll have more to worry about than trespassing.”
“She chose you, right? So why should you feel threatened by me?”
He jumped up, angered. “I’m not threatened by you.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, feigning shock.
Ryan walked up so that he was directly in my face. His jawline was tight. “If you even think of coming between Ricey and me, I will not hesitate to beat your muthafucking ass.”
I laughed loudly, staring right back at him just as seriously. “Trust me, dawg. The Lincoln you ran up on the day you found out about Ricey and me is not the same Lincoln standing here now. Nawimean? You made damn sure of that. So, if you step this way, I will fuck you up, and that’s a promise, bitch.”
“No, you made damn sure of it, you trifling muthafucka! And ain’t shit stopping me—”
“Get the fuck away from my house,” I interrupted, getting angrier by the second. “I’d hate for the number one running back in the league to be out this season due to knee injuries.”
Ryan stepped back and gave a derisive laugh. “I wish you would.”
I walked up to him and pointed my finger into his chest. “In case you forgot, you’re in my state now. Nawimean? This ain’t Atlanta or Dallas, bruh. Please believe me when I say you don’t want it with me. Now, I’m gonna tell you this one last time. Get the fuck off my property.”
Ryan put his hands up to concede this round and began to walk off. “Just so we are clear that this is your property, and the house down the street is mine. The house, everything and everyone in it, are mine,” he threw over his shoulder menacingly.
I laughed. “Okay, whatever you say to make you sleep better at night is cool. Just remember this, though. I was never a rebound fiancé, but you are definitely a fallback husband.”
Ryan stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. “Like we say in football, a win is a win no matter what.”
“And a bitch-ass nigga will always be a bitch-ass nigga no matter what.”
“Bitch-ass niggas gotta learn it from somebody. I learned from the best.”
“Have a good day, neighbor.”
“You too. We should do this again real soon.”
“Most definitely. Make sure you bring Charice with you next time. I’d love to show her all the rooms in my house. She can help me break them in . . . I mean decorate them.”
Ryan looked at me as if he could spit fire, and his eyes were dancing with anger. “Last warning. Stay the fuck away from my wife.”
I smiled devilishly. “Sure.” I shrugged, throwing my hands up. “But you might want to tell your wife to stay away from me first. Seeing as how she just left here about two minutes before you showed up. Have a good one, bruh.” I walked into my house without bothering to wait for a response.
I needed to take a nap to clear my mind. The last thing I wanted to do was take away my focus. That meant not exchanging in senseless arguments with Ryan. I knew coming into this that it would be hard to restrain my temper, but I had never in my life wanted to kill someone until the day I showed up at Ryan’s house and actually saw him and Charice as a couple—a married couple. It was official. I hated him. More importantly, I hated what he’d managed to get away with. But in due time, he would understand that what goes around comes right back around again.
Karma, old friend, is a bitch, I thought as I stretched across my bed for a short but much needed nap.
Chapter Seven
Aldris
I was a good man. Sure, I’d made my fair share of mistakes in the past, but I was a good man. Yes, a great deal of my mistakes came by way of cheating on Jennifer, but still, I had made amends for my actions, even if not directly with her. I’d gone to church and leaned on Christ while becoming an active member. I may not have been doing everything right by fornicating with Lucinda and shacking up with her, but I only did that—well, the shacking up part—because I knew she’d be my wife. As for the premarital sex part, well, everybody has a vice. At least I was faithful to her and wanted to make her my wife. I never said I was a perfect Christian, and if you find one, please point them out to me so I can tell you in awe that you’ve met God.
After messing over Jennifer and meeting many wrong women, I was happy God sent Lucinda my way. I tried to get everything right after getting it wrong. I took care of her and Nadia. I loved them and treated them like the queen and princess they were, and I took care of all the household expenses. We went to church together, we prayed together, and we played together. We were a family.
Even when Lucinda and I got in disagreements, I’d walk away and let us both calm down. Even if I was right, I found a reason to apologize because I wanted Lucinda to understand that I truly loved her, and if I was wrong, I went above and beyond to make it up to her. They were my world, and I would give my life for them.
Like I said, I was a good man, so why, for heaven’s sake, was I being slapped with a paternity suit? The possibility of being a father was something I looked forward to sharing with Lucinda. So why now? And why me? And why the hell didn’t Jennifer tell me this sooner?
Wasn’t there a loophole for karma, especially if you changed
your life around? Perhaps some old college buddy clued her in to the fact that I was getting married and she wanted to get even, or maybe she just felt like fucking with me after all these years because she had a grudge. Maybe she was on some female liberation and revenge conquest. I just refused to freaking believe that I got her pregnant and she didn’t tell me. I absolutely refused to believe that.
Even if it was true, how could this chick—yep, I said chick for lack of a more appropriate word—keep something as precious as a child away from me for all these years? I just couldn’t believe she’d be that heartless and vindictive. Being hurt is one thing, but denying a parent their rightful relationship with their child is downright scandalous. I didn’t want to believe that Jennifer could be that person, no matter how badly I had hurt her.
While at work, I impatiently waited for my attorney’s phone call. So much was on my mind that by 5:00 p.m. I still hadn’t finished my work, and it had taken me an extra hour just to submit my daily reports. When the call finally came, all I could think about as I listened to him feed me a bunch of shit I really didn’t want to hear was, this child is not mine.
“What do you mean I have to take the paternity test?” I asked my attorney as I toyed with a pen on my desk.
“Aldris, I understand that you feel this child is not yours, and you have justifiable cause to feel this way. However, it doesn’t dispute the fact that you’ve been court ordered to do so. She’s paying for this herself, and the law requires that you comply,” my attorney advised.
“So, I want to take my own test with people I trust.”
“You’re more than welcome to pay for any others that you want, but you still have to take this one.”
“How will I know it’s not rigged?”
“The courts are sending you to their facility, not one chosen by Jennifer. Therefore, no one has privileged information about the facility or its staff. Aldris, let me just shoot this to you straight. I can assure you no one there gives a damn about you or your situation. It’s just their job.”