Safe Space (Book 1)

by Tiffany Patterson

  I flinched at that comment, realizing after all these years he still just saw me as Jason’s kid sister. I don’t know why that realization hurt, but it did. “It’s okay. I can—”

  “Nah, it’s not okay. Plus, I’m parked over there too. Let’s go.” He sounded as if he simply expected me to follow along.

  I rolled my eyes, not exactly able to refuse since my car was parked in the garage, and I needed it to get home. “Fine, I’ll let you escort me to my car, but only because you were so nice about it.” I’m pretty sure the sarcasm was evident in my tone. He simply chuckled that deep laugh, and there went those damn goosebumps.

  “What level are you on?” he asked.

  “Top level; it always has the fewest cars.”

  He smirked at me as he guided me toward the elevator in the garage. As soon as the doors closed, the mixed scents of vanilla, patchouli, sandalwood, and a few others I couldn’t identify hit my nostrils. The man smelled good as hell. I bit the inside of my cheek and stared up at the numbers as they lit up to keep myself from moving closer just to sniff him. Thankfully, Xavier remained silent, but I could feel his eyes on me. I needed to get off that damn elevator. I damn near leaped off when the door chimed and opened at the top level of the garage. Without looking back, I sped up and walked as fast as I could in my heels toward my car. I began digging around in my bag for my key fob.

  “This is me right here,” I said as we approached my car, in hopes that he wouldn’t wait for me to get in. Being so close to him was doing something silly to my senses. Or maybe I was just tired after a long day. Whatever it was, I needed some space from this man.

  “Niiice.”

  I heard the admiration in his voice and smiled inwardly as I peeked over my shoulder at my cherry red Tesla Model S P90. She was my pride and joy. “You like?” I questioned playfully.

  “Definitely. Was almost my choice as well, but I opted for the Model X.” He tilted his head to the row of vehicles on the other side of the garage. I turned, looking behind us, and noticed the white Tesla Model X SUV.

  “Show off.”

  His grin sent butterflies fluttering low in my belly, and it was time for me to get out of there. “Thanks for walking me to my car. It was good seeing you.” I grazed my finger along the door handle for it to emerge. Opening my door, I turned and smiled back over my shoulder to not appear too rude at my hasty exit. There, that damn dimple was staring at me.

  “Anytime. Drive safely,” Xavier’s deep baritone instructed. He stepped back and put his hands in his pockets.

  I tossed my bag and suit jacket in the passenger seat when I got the distinct feeling someone was watching my ass. And since Xavier and I were the only two people in the garage, I knew I had to be imagining things. To make sure, though, I took another quick peek over my shoulder as I lowered myself into the driver’s seat. Sure enough, I saw Xavier’s darkened gaze lingering on my rear end, which was encased in a plum, knee-length skirt. My outfit, of course, was modest enough for the office, but my size-twelve curves were hard to miss. I rarely felt insecure about my body those days, but to see Xavier looking at me like I was a damn snack had me shaking my head in disbelief. I really must’ve been imagining things. I’d known this man since I was a pre-teen. He’d never given any sort of indication that he was interested in his best friend’s kid sister. Even when I’d made it pretty obvious I’d had a major crush on him in my teenage years.

  Getting in my car, I shook those thoughts loose and prepared myself for the drive to my condo. I waved at Xavier, who’d remained, waiting for me to pull off. As I did, I watched him in the rearview mirror, peering at my car for a few moments before making his way to his car. Not until he was out of my line of sight did I release a sigh. That man could make a good girl go bad. I laughed to myself as I turned on Emeli Sande’s “I’d Rather Not” to remind myself what happens when I decided to fall in love. No thank you to that.

  Chapter Two

  Chanel

  I retrieved my I.D. from the attendant at the gate that surrounded the community where my father and Marjorie lived. As I passed inside, I observed the luxury homes, each a different style than the previous one. My father and Marjorie had moved into this community right after they’d married. After passing over a few winding roads, I finally came to their street. After parking directly across the street, I sat for a few minutes, taking in the splendor that was my father’s home. It was smaller than what could be called an estate, no doubt a downgrade, since neither he nor Marjorie had any young children living with them. The two-story house was outlined in dark tan brick and stone siding, with a low-sitting, dark brown roof. The bright greenery of the grass and colorful flowerbed that outlined the walkway spoke of the weekly landscaping services they paid for. From the outside, it looked like the perfect place for an older couple with lots of room for grandkids.

  As soon as I stepped out of my car, I noticed the front door open, and my beautiful sister-in-law appeared. My smile was instant as I observed her petite five-foot-three-inch frame, an inch shorter than me. Her caramel skin shone, highlighted by the dark blue sleeveless sun dress she wore. Her hair was pulled back in a bun.

  “It’s about time you showed up. I wasn’t a hundred percent sure you’d make it,” Tori admonished as I greeted her with a hug.

  “Hello to you too. I ran into traffic on the way over,” I lied.

  “Un-huh.” Her honey eyes skimmed me from head to toe. “Lying ass,” she snarked.

  I rolled my eyes playfully. I liked Tori. She and Jason had been married for the last three years and had a set of two-year-old twins, Amalia and Jason Jr.

  “Don’t start with me, Tori. Where's my niece and nephew?”

  “In the living room with their daddy and grandfather. Marjorie’s in the kitchen supervising the catering staff. Food should be ready soon. You missed hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Oh, damn.” I snapped my fingers, sarcastic.

  Tori shut the door and we headed toward the living room, which was off to the side, a few feet past the foyer.

  “Auntie Nel!” Amalia shrieked as soon as she saw me.

  I snatched her up as soon as she was within arm’s reach and planted a big kiss on her chubby cheek. Amalia was a few shades darker than her mother, closer to my skin tone, and looked more like her father, which meant she looked a lot like me. Often when I was out with her and Tori, I was mistaken for her mother.

  “Hello, my little angel. I missed you.” She giggled and clapped as I nuzzled her little neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

  “Down! Down!” she yelled, pointing toward the floor.

  I placed her back on the floor, expecting her to go back to whatever she’d been doing, but instead, she grabbed my hand. “Come! J. J. see you.” She pointed to her brother, who was playing with toy cars on the rug.

  “Hey, sis!” Jason greeted, standing, towering over me with his six-foot build. “You’re late.”

  “So your wife already informed me,” I stated, looking around the room. We were the only ones in there.

  “Pops and Marjorie went to check on dinner. It’ll be ready soon.”

  “Cool.” I shrugged.

  “How’s work?” I questioned Jason, as I had nothing else really to discuss.

  “Busy, you know how it is. Or you would know if you’d quit bullshitting and come to work for the firm that bears your namesake,” he scoffed.

  I rolled my eyes over to my sister-in-law, who’d gotten down on the floor with the kids, gathering their toys together.

  “Jason, leave your sister alone. You know that’s a sensitive topic,” she intervened, winking at me.

  I smiled, grateful.

  “Sensitive for what? I’m just saying, how the hell do you carry the name Combs, Esq. and not come to work for the very law firm that started it all? The top firm in the city, I might add.”

  “Jay, give it a rest, would you? I just got here.” I was starting to get annoyed. Thankfully, before my brother could go on, we we
re interrupted by giggling in the hallway.

  “Elliott, stop! We have guests,” a feminine voice purred. As they rounded the corner, Marjorie and my father were cheek to cheek, laughing and playful. The smile on his handsome face was effervescent and one I’d seen sometimes, but never directed at me. I swallowed down my bitterness and plastered a smile on my face just as his eyes left his wife’s and fell onto me.

  “Chanel.” His voice held a questioning note in it. “You came.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Marjorie invited me.”

  “Yes, yes. She informed me.”

  I nearly took a step back as he made his way over to me, gripping me by the shoulders, and placed a kiss on my cheek. The move was so quick, I barely had time to realize what was happening until he was back at Marjorie’s side. My father rarely showed me any affection. I didn’t know whether to be surprised or leery. I briefly wondered if he’d heard about me taking on Michele Wyatt as a client, and he was trying to butter me up. I certainly wouldn’t put it past him. He didn’t become one of the best lawyers in the nation by playing fair.

  “Hi, Chanel. I’m glad you came,” Marjorie began. “The chef has fixed a wonderful feast, so I hope you’ve brought your appetite.”

  “You missed hors d’oeuvres, so you should be hungry.”

  I wasn’t sure if my father was being snarky or just making a comment, so I simply nodded.

  “Let’s head back to the dining area, shall we?” my father encouraged us, placing a kiss on Marjorie’s cheek, then grabbing her hand to lead her down the hall. Tori and Jason each grabbed one of the kids, and I followed suit.

  Not for the first time, I admired the earth tones and desert style decorations of the house. Marjorie was originally from Phoenix and brought that desert feel into her decorating when she moved in with my father. We entered the dining space that was separated from the kitchen by the huge counter that was currently being used to place the cooked food and serving trays. I watched as Jason and Tori placed the kids in their high chairs, and then my brother pulled out a chair for his wife. I remained taken aback at how affectionate he was toward Tori. Lord knew, he’d never treated any of his past women with the same level of affection. I grinned, happy for them.

  What caught my attention was when I turned and noticed my father pulling out Marjorie’s seat and patiently waiting for her to sit. Once she had, he took his place at the head of the table. It took me a second to realize I was the last one standing, as I’d been too surprised at his continued open affection to move.

  “You going to sit down?” Jason’s smart-ass tone was the only thing that made me realize I was looking like Boo Boo the Fool while everyone else took their seats.

  “Chanel, you working on any interesting cases down at that second-rate law firm?” Jason began.

  “Oh, no!” Marjorie interrupted before I could think of a comeback, holding up her hand. “Jason, you know the rules at the dinner table.”

  “Rules?” I asked, my eyes darting between Marjorie, Jason, and Tori.

  “Yes, no talking business or work at the dinner table,” Tori explained.

  I scoffed openly at that, but looking around, I noticed everyone was on board. Even my father, who’d remained silent. “So, you don’t talk about work at the dinner table? Like, ever?”

  “No.” Marjorie shook her head. “Not if we can help it. There are so many other things we can talk about. Why spend the precious hours we have together discussing work?” She shrugged one shoulder.

  I looked toward my father, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the exchange.

  “Marjorie’s right,” he finally spoke up. “Work is great, but there is life outside of business.”

  After that comment, you could have knocked me over with a feather. My father spent my whole damn childhood telling my mother he couldn’t spend much time with her or me because he had some big case, or more important matters to handle. I swallowed the lump of regret in my throat when I, once again, noticed my father grab Marjorie by the hand and press a kiss to the back of her palm. I’d become so preoccupied with my thoughts, I barely noticed the salad that now sat in front of me.

  “Tori, tell us how your art class is going?” my father asked.

  Tori was a stay-at-home mom to the twins, but had recently begun taking art classes at a community college after encouragement from my brother. She’d always loved art but had never studied it, choosing to pursue a degree in the sciences. She worked for some years before getting burnt out, being one of the few black women in her workplace. She and Jason made the decision that she’d be a stay-at-home mom when she got pregnant. I was glad my brother still encouraged Tori to have her identity outside of being a wife and mom.

  I listened as she told us about her art class and a drawing competition her teacher was encouraging her to enter. Soon enough, the table was immersed in multiple conversations, with my father and Marjorie discussing their recent vacation to the Maldives and Jason proudly declaring that both his children were making progress learning their ABCs and counting past ten. For my part, I remained mostly quiet, marveling at the way conversations seemed to flow around the table, and none of it involved discussions on litigations or contractual agreements. That, I could’ve kept up with. This other stuff? These conversations were those of a...family. This family banter, I wasn’t expecting. So I kept to myself, only speaking when spoken to, or playfully engaging my niece and nephew.

  More than once, Marjorie’s giggles grabbed my attention, and I stared at the interactions between her and my father. I saw the way he would incline his head when he’d make a comment that was for her ears only, or the way his lips tightened in concern when she discussed her passion for scuba diving. He openly told the table how he disliked her diving because of the possibility of danger underwater where he couldn’t get to her. Marjorie gave him an admonishing look, and I swear I almost dropped my fork when he gave her a bashful look in return.

  I plopped my back against the wooden dining chair, stunned. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. But when I looked back at Jason as he spoke to Tori, then back at my father, I saw it. These were two men completely in love with the women they’d married, and the four of them were a family.

  I couldn’t get the hell out of there fast enough.

  “Leaving already?” Marjorie questioned my back as I headed to the door, hoping to make a quiet exit.

  “Uh, yeah. I have to stop at the office to pick up a couple of files from work to look over this weekend.”

  “It’s pretty late,” she frowned, looking at her wrist watch. It was close to nine p.m.

  “Not too late. The office is open.”

  “Chanel, are you leaving?” my father called out as he emerged from the hall.

  “Yeah, she said she has to go pick up some work files.”

  He frowned at me. “On a Friday night?”

  Oh, this was rich. Was this not the man who used work as an excuse to get out of practically every one of my childhood school plays or recitals or whatever the hell I was involved in?

  “Yeah, well, can never work too hard. You would know, right, Dad?”

  He looked stunned for a second, and I was ready for him to make some snide comment in return. That way, at least I’d have a reason to feel the way I was feeling. Instead, he got a look in his eyes that I’d never seen before.

  “Right. Just be safe driving and let us know when you get in, okay?”

  I nodded and, not forgetting my manners, turned to Marjorie. “Thank you for inviting me. Dinner was wonderful.” I nearly choked on the lie. I hadn’t even tasted any of the roast duck and rice pilaf that we’d had. I’d remained in too much of a state of shock throughout the entire meal to taste the food.

  I retreated to my car, feeling like the twelve-year-old little girl I’d just behaved like. As I started my car and pulled off, I tried to figure out what the hell made me act like that. By all accounts, my father had been upbeat and even welcoming toward me. Work
was hardly discussed, and the few times it was brought up, it was Jason who’d been more irritable at my decision to work at a different law firm, not my father. I exited the gates that guarded their community and instead of turning right for the highway that led to my own condo, I went in the opposite direction. I had no particular destination in mind. I’d lied to Marjorie about having to stop at my office. Any files I needed over the weekend I could easily access from my laptop or tablet at home. I drove around for about thirty minutes, trying to figure out where I could go, when I remembered a restaurant Gabby and I had been to a few weeks prior was close to that side of the city.

  Grant’s was a soul food restaurant that also had plenty of vegan options, which was why Gabby chose it in the first place. On Saturday nights, they had live jazz bands, but there was constantly music playing. I pulled into the parking lot, noting the number of cars. It was a Friday night, so I figured the place would be packed. Thankfully, there was a seat at the bar, which I opted for instead of a table.

  “What will you have, beautiful?” the cute, young male bartender asked as soon as I sat down.

  “An amaretto sour, please.”

  “Coming up.” He winked at me, definitely turning up the charm to earn his tips for the evening. As long as he kept the drinks coming, his tip would be well worth it. I observed the nearly packed restaurant before turning back to the bar. The nineties R&B music playing in the background and low lights gave the place a calming and homely appeal. I bet many of the couples were there on their first or second date. It was a place people went to relax, get to know one another and eat good food.

  “Here you go, beautiful.” The bartender handed me my drink.

  I took my first sip and let the sweetness soothe the back of my throat. “Perfect,” I informed him.

  He smiled, then walked away to prepare a drink for another customer. Aaliyah’s “At Your Best” came on, and I found myself thinking back to the evening I’d just had at my father’s. I stared off into space as the feelings of anger, resentment and loneliness attempted to bubble to the surface.