Santana lifted her chin at me and gave me that beautiful smile. “I said I’d take it as far as it needed to go, didn’t I?”
“Yes.”
“I’m a woman of my word.”
I smiled back at her and sat against my seat, resting my arm over her shoulders. The limo pulled to O’Hare International Airport, and we took the three-hour flight to Houston. It was midday when we arrived, and Santana had fallen asleep. I woke her with a kiss that she returned with a fiery passion.
I smiled against her lips. “We have arrived,” I said.
She yawned and stretched. That was one of the best naps I’ve gotten in a long time.”
I frowned slightly. “Have you had a hard time sleeping?”
Santana thought about her next words, and I could tell her response was limited. “It’s okay sometimes, you know, but I’m all right.”
I traced her features and couldn’t tell from her beautiful face if she was lying to me.
“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and rising from her seat. “Let’s go see Mama and Daddy.”
Exiting George Bush Intercontinental Airport hand in hand Santana, and I made our way to the Hilton Hotel and checked in. We didn’t stay there long opting to make a day of shopping while we were in her city. It was well around five o’clock when we headed over to her parents’ house. Although I’d wanted to take them out to a restaurant, Mrs. Summer preferred we come to their house for a home cooked meal. A man could never turn down a good home cooked meal.
When we pulled into the driveway, the British colonial revival home sat large and in charge on what appeared to be a few acres of land. I glanced over to Santana and peered at her.
“What?” She shrugged.
“Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Like?”
“You’ve never told me what your parents do for a living. This house is humongous.”
“It’s not bigger than your father’s.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said, sweeping an eye around the large columns that helped hold up the colossal structure.
“My father is a former marine, and my mother served ten years in the air force.”
I lifted a brow. “That’s quite a combination.”
“Tell me about it,” she said.
I parked, and we left the vehicle, making sure to grab the strawberry shortcake we’d had made for Mrs. Summers and a bottle of Brandy I was gifting to Mr. Summers. We announced our presence with the ring of the doorbell, and Mrs. Summers opened with an elated smile.
“Oh my God, come on in,” she beamed, pulling Santana in for a hug. Smoothly, Mrs. Summers rubbed a hand up and down her back and pulled me in next.
“How are you, Mrs. Summers?” I asked.
“I’m well, it’s nice to meet you finally, Josiah, I’ve heard so much about you,” she gushed.
“As have I,” a deep voice thundered.
We all turned our attention to Mr. Summers as he approached. He was a few inches taller than my six-foot-three. Just about the same height as my father. Broad shoulders and burly hands hung at his side. Swiftly, I shifted the bag I carried and held out a hand that he accepted with a snug shake.
“We’re glad you two made it safely. Come on back. Barbara has been pacing around the clock waiting for your arrival.”
We made our way to the large kitchen where I took the cake off Santana’s hands and sat it down on the counter.
“This is for you, Sir.”
I handed Mr. Summers the bottle of Brandy to which he responded, “How’d you know this was my spirit of choice?”
I gave a half-hearted grin and rubbed my chin. “Lucky guess?”
Mr. Summers grumbled a chuckle then looked to Santana.
“My guess is luck had nothing to do with it.”
I held my hands out, feigning defeat. “I tried.”
“Dinner is ready. I’ve already made plates, and they’re still warm if you both would like to take a seat,” Mrs. Summers said.
We gathered around the table, and I helped Santana in her chair then found mine next to her.
“I hope you don’t mind if I give thanks to the almighty,” I said.
Mrs. Summers perked and glanced at Mr. Summers.
“Go right ahead, son.”
I reached for Santana’s hands and linked them with her mother’s. As I prayed out loud, I inwardly asked God for direction. I couldn’t deny that my feelings for Santana had evolved into much more than I’d initially expected. Even over the last few weeks I’d saw and fell in love with her personality, her love for others, and the unrestricted way she gave herself over to me when we made love. Totally and complete. The significance of her willing to walk down the aisle and bring our agreement all the way to the altar was more than enough to make my love flourish.
Dinner with Santana’s parents was so enjoyable we’d lost track of time. Mrs. Summers had shown me just about every baby photo of Santana, and I must admit, the little plats sticking up on her head and her wide eyes were comical, so much so, that I doubled over in laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Santana had asked.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I said, holding my gut. “You look so alarmed with the wide eyes.” My guffaw grew, and she pursed her lips and rolled her eyes.
“Whatever,” she said.
“Aww, don’t be like that,” I said. “I still love you.”
Those three words slipped off my tongue with ease, giving Santana and me both pause. For what seemed like minutes, we stared at each other both going through our own torrent of thoughts. Not soon after, Mrs. Summers had taken our attention to another set of photos, and I’d even been able to get a look at her bedroom, which had not been changed since Santana had left the house. When Santana’s father pulled me to the side, I knew this was the part where he threatened my life should I do anything to hurt his little girl. And he did not disappoint, going so far as to show me his collection of guns.
We stood in his backyard as Mr. Summers put a rifle against his shoulder and let off shots at a paper target.
“Pretty nice,” I said.
Mr. Summers looked at me. “Think you could do better?”
“I wouldn’t say better, but I’ll give it an ol’ try.”
He handed me the rifle, and I held it against my shoulder and fired twice. One bullet eased into the paper target’s abdomen while the other exited through the heart.
Mr. Summers turned to me. “That’s a kill shot, son. Who taught you how to shoot?”
My pride was on display as I responded, “My father.”
Mr. Summers nodded slowly. “Can’t wait to meet him.”
“You will soon enough, sir.”
Mr. Summers glanced back to the porch and grunted.
“The ladies are watching,” he said.
I turned my attention and found Mrs. Summers with her arms crossed, rubbing her shoulders up and down. Santana stood next to her, looking like her younger version with a worrisome expression on her face.
“She thinks I’m taking you out to slaughter.” Mr. Summers chuckled.
“So did I,” I said, and we both gave a hearty laugh.
“Nah, you’re all right.” Mr. Summers patted me on the back, “Until you hurt my baby girl. Then you nor your daddy can save you.”
I agreed with a nod, knowing very well Mr. Summers would take me out if need be.
“I don’t plan to.”
Chapter Nineteen
Before leaving Houston, I gifted Mr. and Mrs. Summers two round trip tickets to Chicago. One for our engagement party and the other for our wedding. Santana had been set to begin her new job at the Chicago Chronicle, but due to our upcoming nuptials, Mrs. Hathaway had set her start date further back. Mrs. Hathaway had also apologized profusely about getting into my business—as I knew she would. I told her it was okay as long as she didn’t do that again.
Mrs. Hathaway made no promises, which let me know she would most likely dip her no
se into our business once more. Santana was okay with it now that she knew Mrs. Hathaway’s reasons. But I was still not accepting Mrs. Hathaway’s lack of response.
Another week went by before the engagement party. At the dinner, I could sense a sudden shift in Santana’s mood. It was interesting that whenever she felt tired, happy or troubled, I could feel the emotions drifting from her. This happened even if I were in another room. My mood would change, and I’d go looking for her only to find Santana alone on the front porch with her face to the wind or hiding out in the bathroom, pretending she was just freshening up. With each time I witnessed this part of her, I knew she was conflicted. And I understood why. Santana wasn’t alone. Although we both kept up this façade, it seemed we both felt the same but neither one of us spoke on it as the days continued to pass.
There were few nights that we spent without each other, at our respective homes. One of those times came the night before our supposed wedding. I’d gone over this whole ordeal in my head and wondered what the hell I was thinking. Was taking over my father’s company so important that I was risking Santana regretting what we were about to do? Would I regret it? I pulled myself to a sitting position and tossed my legs over the bed. Quickly, I stood and drug on a pair of jeans, forgetting my shirt to grab my keys and head out the front door. I drove across town with my mind abuzz, cursing myself for letting things get this far. The skies had been cloudy all day, and finally, it began to shower. It started slow, and then the heavy welts of droplets splashed against my car like a massive storm was on its way.
When I pulled in front of Santana’s house, all lights were off, and her car was gone. Still, I got out and ran through the rain to her door. I knocked with a fist, banging against the wooden frame, hoping she was inside to no avail. All was quiet, and it became more apparent that Santana wasn’t inside. I turned around and walked to the sidewalk, casting my eyes down the street. Where would she be at this hour and why? I worried that I’d ran her off and I’d never see her again. The thought twisted my gut and made me short of breath. My legs moved, and I was driving down the street desperately searching for her.
“Come on, baby, where are you?”
I cruised around corner after corner before coming to a local bar that sat on the edge of the street. I almost passed it when my periphery caught the image of her car. I hit the brakes, quickly pulling my car to rest beside hers. My heart hammered in my chest as I thought with relief that I’d found her. But as I made my way inside, I saw no sign of Santana—only a sprinkling of patrons. The tightness in my chest was back, but I composed my thoughts long enough to think straight.
Walking up to the bar, I spoke to the bartender,
“Excuse me. Have you seen a woman come in here about five-seven, brown skin, shoulder length hair, beautiful dark eyes?”
The bartender smirked. “Beautiful dark eyes, eh?” He looked around the place. “Well, she was sitting right there next to that stool you’re standing by. She’s only been gone about five minutes.”
I turned around and left the bar so quick that my movements turned into a sprint. I was desperate to get to her. Needing with no doubt to find her safe and make sure she never felt used again. Outside, I ran to the end of the sidewalk, and my heart leaped when I found her standing there walking in my direction. I crossed the street just as she looked up, and her eyes enlarged at my appearance.
“Josiah,” she said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes never left mine as I grabbed her hands and pulled her close.
“Don’t leave me,” I said.
She stared back at me, and I was lost in her.
“Don’t leave,” I repeated. “I know you have doubts. But I need you to stay, Santana.” We stood there under the downpour of the heavy rain accessing one another. The cyclone of wind pulled her closer, and I closed my mouth around hers in a kiss that was so charged I knew any moment we’d be struck by lightning. My arms cocooned her, and she responded, sliding her arms around my neck. My tongue traveled down her throat, and my heart beat rigorously in my chest. I was in love with her, and I never wanted to spend another second without Santana. It shouldn’t have taken me this long but I knew what had to be done, and I’d promised myself I would set things right, starting, now.
Chapter Twenty
Santana
The next day
The megachurch was filled to capacity, and everything from its interior to the layered cake had been designed with a one of a kind unique touch. My bridesmaids consisted of all my girls who were shuffling around me in circles, making sure I was perfectly put together. They had done all they could, and I had to admit the crème colored gown I wore was resplendent right down to the crème veil that hung over my face just short of my nose. My hair had been curled and twisted so elegantly that I was in awe of it.
This moment was everything I had hoped for, and yet, I… was… in… hell. The night before, I’d managed to talk myself into telling Josiah that I couldn’t go through with this wedding. I drove for hours before finally pulling over to the bar at the end of the corner two streets over from my home. Even the gin and tonic couldn’t calm my nerves enough to do what I needed to. Several times, I’d dialed his number only to backtrack and remove the digits from my phone. Would he hate me for going through it all only to back out at the end? My heart knocked against my chest as I felt weighed down by my indecision. I was in love with him, so much so, that no matter how this went I would most likely end up broken.
If I told Josiah I couldn’t go through with it, I could lose him forever. If I finished what we started, my heart would suffer knowing what we had just wasn’t real. I fought so hard with myself that I’d left the bar to take a walk, mildly noticing the rough winds and tumultuous rain that sunk into my skin. With my eyes straight forward but my mind in another place, I walked like a ghost, lost and looking for shelter. It was a sudden gust of wind that let me know I’d walked into a storm so urgent that I would be physically sick if I didn’t get out of it. The thought should have made me trudge back to my car. But it didn’t. Fact of the matter was, I was already sick. Mentally. I’d stop walking and had been standing still for seconds when my focus cleared, and I saw Josiah jogging toward me.
At first, I thought I saw an apparition until he was so close that the familiar scent I loved comforted me in knowing he was real. Immediately, I wanted to apologize and just get it over with. But the look of anguish in his eyes kept me silent.
“Don’t leave me,” he’d said. And although he begged, I knew once the words left his mouth, I was all in, even if I couldn’t have him the way I wanted him. I would never leave unless he pushed me away.
Standing in front of the full-length mirror, my eyes traveled up and down the mermaid styled dress, the pearls around my neck and in my ears, the red lipstick against my lips, and I wondered who I was. I remained a girl living a dream. A fantasy come true only outwardly.
“Okay, girl,” Desiree said, coming to stand next to me. “Are you ready? The music has started, and I’ve got to get in position.” I numbly nodded. “Are you sure?” she asked, concern in her voice.
I pulled my eyes away from my image and smiled at her.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
A broad smile eased across her face, and there was a knock at the door. Samiyah opened it, and my father entered. Seeing him made tears cloud my vision, and I trembled but didn’t speak. My dad walked up to me with his arms out, and I fell into them and cried softly.
“Sssssh,” he cooed. “Everything will be all right.”
“I’m scared, Daddy.”
“I know, you’re supposed to be. Your mother and I were terrified. For a minute, I didn’t think she’d make it out of the back room in our church.” He chuckled, and it made me wonder how Josiah was feeling.
I tried to straighten up and couldn’t help but be tickled at the sight of Desiree standing next to me with the makeup kit in her hand.
“All right now, this
is the last time I can do this, so no crying until your man sees you, girl.” She padded my face lightly to smooth over the slight mess I’d made with my tears. “Breath deep,” she said, and I did like I was going into labor. “Okay, gotta go, I’ll see you on the other side future Mrs. Rose.” She smiled and sashayed away.
My father linked our arms together, and we stood before the door.
“I love you,” he said.
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
The music changed. “That’s our cue.”
I put on a brave front with my head lifted and shoulders back. The doors opened simultaneously, and we walked out. Everyone stood to their feet when we entered. Oohs and Oh my God she’s so beautiful swirled around me in whispers. My eyes landed on Josiah standing dashing in an all-black tuxedo with a red tie. The suit fit his muscular frame with such definition that it was he that made the suit and not the other way around. My steps paused as my heart raced and suddenly I felt parched.
My father whispered, “You’re doing great. One step at a time.”
I smiled up at him, grateful that he was at my side. Doing as he said, I made it to the altar, and that’s when I noticed the microphone in Josiah’s hand. He stepped forward and reached out to me, cloaking the warmth of his palms with mine. He helped me to stand next to him, and the train from my dress was pulled around by my father.
At last, Josiah faced me. “You are the most beautiful person in this world. I’ve never seen anyone as radiant as you.”
I blushed but wanted to cry at the same time.
“Thank you, so are you” was all I could manage.
“Forgive me,” he said.
My brows crinkled, slightly confused by what he said. Then he released my hands and stepped forward, lifting the microphone to his mouth.
“I have an announcement to make.” Josiah glanced around the large mega church at all our attendees. “Actually, it’s more of a confession.”
I closed my eyes and held my breath. The church was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Fever (Falling For A Rose Book 4) Page 16