Date Cute Marry Rich

by Alexis Nicole

  “My goodness,” I said as Trent helped me to step over the edge of the pier and onto the plank. “Is this yacht yours?”

  “It belongs to my family,” he said, following me. “But I take it out for special occasions.”

  Okay. There were two questions I had about that statement. First, who was his family? And did he really think that being out with me was a special occasion?

  Inside, the yacht was just like the ones I’d seen on TV, with mahogany wood throughout, leather sofas and chairs everywhere, and even crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings. We settled in the dining area, and that was the first time that I saw another person.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” a man wearing a white suit called out as he approached the table.

  “Hey, Joe.” Trent shook the man’s hand, then patted him on his back, as if the two were longtime friends. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “It’s good to see you.” Then the man turned to me. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Davenport.”

  Dang! Trent had really planned ahead. This man knew my name.

  I sat back as Trent and Joe discussed the brunch menu, and my stomach started growling just at the mention of all the dishes Joe said were waiting.

  “I’m sorry we won’t be able to take the boat out today,” Joe said. “The city ordinance won’t allow it as they start preparing for the holiday.”

  “Yeah, I knew that,” Trent said. “We’ll be fine just docked.”

  “Okay, then. Brunch will be right out, and I’ll be back with your mimosas.”

  When we were alone, Trent said, “I hope you will indulge in a little alcohol—champagne and orange juice?”

  I nodded. This man didn’t know me at all. “I love mimosas,” I said.

  “So,” Trent said, leaning back in his chair, “have I impressed you yet?”

  It must’ve been all that I’d just been through with Noah and what Chyanne was going through with Malcolm that made me answer his question with one of my own. “How many women have you tried to impress this way? On your yacht?”

  My question seemed to surprise him, and he stared at me for a moment before he chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve dated a few women, but no one has ever gotten this on a first date. I’ve never pulled out the stops this way before.”

  “So, why me?” I asked. I knew I sounded cynical, but could anyone blame me?

  He leaned forward and peered into my eyes. “Because you’re worth it.”

  I laughed, but Trent didn’t.

  “What’s wrong? You don’t think you’re worth it?”

  That was a good question. Of course I was worth it. Just because Noah didn’t know it, and none of those other guys I’d dated seemed to know it, didn’t mean I wasn’t worth it. Yeah, I was worth this yacht and a whole lot more.

  So, I smiled and sat back and decided to enjoy my time with Trent—no strings attached.

  As we feasted over a brunch of eggs and waffles and turkey bacon and grits and home fried potatoes and all kinds of fruit, Trent and I chatted like we were old friends. I told him all about my job and my desire to become a top designer. He told me about his investments and how this was actually a great time to be in real estate.

  “People think the economy is bad, but they don’t know that this is the time to get as much as you can. Real estate is at bargain basement prices. There’s lots of money to be made in this market.”

  We talked about our pasts—in terms of school. He’d gone to Harvard, which didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was that his father and grandfather had gone to Harvard as well. It was his grandfather, Richard Hamilton, who was the first real estate mogul in the Hamilton family, buying property in Harlem back in the 1950s, when that was unheard of for African Americans. His father, though, had taken a different route. He’d become a prominent surgeon, while Trent’s mother, who had also attended Harvard, was the CFO of one of the country’s largest banks.

  Impressive was the only word that I could think of, but it wasn’t impressive enough to keep my mind off of Noah. As Trent talked, I compared him to the man I was still in love with. I watched his lips move when he talked; his lips, which were thinner than Noah’s juicy ones, didn’t impress me. And I waited for his hair to sway like Noah’s, but that would have been quite a feat, since Trent was completely bald.

  The two men were nothing alike. Noah was creative and expressive. Trent was cerebral and contemplative. But he had a sense of humor, which was most important to me, and I laughed through the entire brunch.

  “Are you ready to get going?” he asked after we’d been there for about two hours.

  “Okay,” I said, though I hated to leave. I was surprised that we were leaving so quickly. Trent had told me to clear my Sunday, and I thought I was going to spend the entire day with him. But maybe he wasn’t as impressed with me as he thought he was going to be. Maybe he’d had enough.

  Trent helped me off the yacht, took my hand, and led me back to the limousine. With each step we took toward the car, I became more disappointed. Even though I was thinking about Noah, I was having a good time and I didn’t want the date to end. I didn’t want to go back to my apartment and sit and wait for a call to come—a call from Noah, which was never going to come.

  But then Trent climbed into the car with me. “Bob, you remember where we’re going next?” he asked the driver.

  “Yes, Mr. Hamilton.” And then the car took off.

  I twisted my head so that I could look into Trent’s face. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Can you do me a favor?” He grinned. “Can you just sit back, relax, and enjoy me?”

  I laughed. “Okay. You got it.”

  Thirty minutes later we were in the Brooklyn Botanical Garden, which was one of the places I had on my list to visit in New York.

  “How did you know I wanted to come here?” I asked, knowing for sure that I sounded like a kid, I was so excited.

  He shrugged. “A good guess.”

  I had read all about the fifty-two-acre specialty gardens, and I couldn’t wait to stroll through the landscape, ready to be inspired.

  “Where do you want to go first?” Trent asked, showing me the map.

  I knew exactly where I wanted to go. “The cherry trees!”

  He laughed as he took my hand. We strolled through the cherry tree gardens, and even though we’d missed the cherry blossom festival by a few weeks, the trees were still gorgeous and full. During our leisurely walk, we continued the conversation about our lives, and when he took my hand, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. We wandered from the cherry tree gardens, to the Japanese Hill-and-Pond Garden, then to what became my favorite, the Shakespeare Garden, which had more than eighty plants, all of which had been mentioned in Shakespeare’s writings.

  For hours we wandered and talked and appreciated the beauty of God’s hands all around us. But then, as the day’s heat bowed to the evening’s chill, my stomach began to rumble. We’d done so much walking, and now I was getting hungry.

  But it had been a great day, and by the time we got back in the limousine for Trent to take me home, I was happy that I’d made that call to him four days ago.

  “I’ve really had a good time,” I said once we were in the car.

  “I’m glad,” he said. “But you talk as if the day is over. It’s not.”

  I couldn’t imagine what we were going to do next, and so I asked him.

  “Have you heard of that new restaurant, Vibe?”

  “Yes,” I said, kind of excited. “They just opened. My friends and I want to go there, but I heard they have a waiting list that’s over three weeks long!”

  “Well, a friend of mine owns it, and we’re going tonight.”

  “Are you kidding me? Oh, my. Well, I have to get home and . . .”

  Trent glanced at his watch. “There’s no time for that.”

  “What?” I knew this man was not going to make me go to the hottest club and restaurant in the city dressed this way.


  He said, “Trust me.”

  “But . . .”

  He took my hand. “Have you enjoyed this day so far?”

  I nodded.

  “Good, then trust me.”

  “Okay,” I said right as the limousine stopped again, this time in front of Barneys. I couldn’t wait to see what Trent had planned now.

  The moment we walked in the door, two sales associates greeted us.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” the man and woman said at the same time. They both shook his hand, and I had a feeling that they knew him well.

  The woman turned to me. “Ms. Davenport, please come with me.”

  I stood still for a moment, as if I couldn’t follow instructions. Where did she want me to go?

  “Go ahead,” Trent said encouragingly.

  So, I followed her to a room already filled with shoes and dresses.

  “Mr. Hamilton thought that something here would be to your liking for your dinner tonight.”

  Okay, this man was going too far and not in a good way. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I was appreciative of all that he’d done for this day, and even now, bringing me to Barneys. But didn’t he know that I was a designer? I had a certain flare, a certain flavor that couldn’t be found on just any rack. And certainly couldn’t be found by a man who didn’t know me.

  But then I looked at the dresses. And I couldn’t believe it. It was like Trent had been in my closet. Every single one of them was something that I would have bought—if I could have afforded the prices. I chose my favorite, a mini Tadashi formfitting sheath. If Trent wanted to play, I was going to show him what he was playing with.

  I had just slipped into the dress and shoes when I heard “Wow!” right behind me. Turning to the door, I didn’t know why I was surprised to find Trent standing in the entrance of what was supposed to be a women’s dressing area. Like I said, I shouldn’t have been surprised. This man didn’t seem to follow any rules.

  “You look amazing,” he said.

  I knew I did. That was what I liked about the Tadashi line—if a woman had curves, they were going to show... in a good way. I let my eyes wander over him, taking in the black suit that someone had just sewn onto him, ’cause that was how good he looked.

  Trent took my hand. Then, with a thank-you to the sales associates, he swept me away, back to the limousine and to the fabulous Vibe on Fifty-second Street, and into one of the private rooms, where we feasted on steak and lamb and new potatoes. Then we went into the main room, where we danced and laughed, and laughed and danced, until my feet hurt.

  It was well after midnight when Trent walked me to my front door, planted a soft kiss on my cheek, and told me that he couldn’t wait to do this with me again.

  Neither could I.

  Inside my apartment I ran to the window to watch Trent and the driver pull away in the limousine, and then I turned toward my bedroom.

  My last thought before I fell asleep that night was, Noah who?

  Chapter 24

  Devin

  Dang! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so bored in my life. It was my Monday off, and I had absolutely nothing to do. It was the first Monday that I was alone; since I’d met Antonio, I’d spent every single Monday with him. He’d been able to use sick days and vacation days, but not today. He had important meetings with new teams who were interested in using his company, and Antonio had put in long, long hours last week, and I had a feeling it was going to be exactly the same thing this week.

  I sighed as I walked through the empty salon. All the stations were straight, all the towels had been washed, and the floors were sparkling clean. There wasn’t a doggone thing for me to do here.

  Plopping down in the chair at my station, I scrolled through my cell phone. See, this was what happened when your friends were just limited to a few. It wasn’t like I could call Skye or Chyanne. Both were at work, and truly, while I loved my girls, they both certainly had their own problems. It was too much drama for me.

  I still couldn’t believe what Chyanne had decided to do, because of how we’d been raised in the church and everything. But whatever, Chyanne knew that I was down and had her back. At least Skye was happy—for the moment. She was with this new guy, Trent, though she didn’t talk about him at all in the way she’d talked about Noah. I hoped that her heart still wasn’t with that cheater.

  I scrolled down to Leigh’s name. Heck, I’d even take some of her drama right about now. But she and Michael had taken my suggestion, and they were away in the British Virgin Islands, hanging out on the island of Tortola, trying to bring back that honeymoon feeling.

  I was truly by myself.

  I pushed myself up from the chair. I needed to stop this pity party and enjoy this time. When was the last time I had a chance to think without someone else in my ear? Shoot, and I was with my favorite person, anyway—me!

  So, I decided to walk back home. After locking up the shop, I took my time, wandering down Prospect Park West past all the trendy shops—boutiques, specialty stores, even restaurants—that made Park Slope such a desirable neighborhood. Even though I tried to slow down my steps, I was home in less than twenty minutes.

  Inside my apartment, I kicked off my shoes, turned on the fan, and stretched out on the couch. I didn’t know why I was trippin’; I didn’t have a thing to complain about. I was living the life! I was in New York City, in one of the best neighborhoods in Brooklyn; had my own shop, which was already turning a profit; had my best friends here in the city with me, even though they all had their major share of drama. And then there was Antonio.

  My Antonio.

  He was the part that I had never expected. He was the only part of this dream that I hadn’t prayed for. I didn’t want to be involved with anyone, not while I was building my business. But the thing was, I’d been wrong about that. Antonio actually enhanced my work. I was more focused because I was satisfied at home.

  I closed my eyes and imagined Antonio right here beside me.

  And then I began wondering something I’d never thought of before—what would it be like to have Antonio with me twenty-four–seven? Seriously, how wonderful would my life be if this man was by my side all the time?

  I sat up straight on the couch. Dang! It was clear that not only was Antonio all up in my head, but he had to be in my heart, too, for me to be thinking something ridiculous like that. Living with a man? Please! I was so glad to get out of my mama’s house, I didn’t know what to do. Having this place to myself was what I had dreamed about. It was stupid to think about being with Antonio all the time.

  But then I wondered, what was stupid about it? What would it be like, and if it was as wonderful as I thought it would be, why wouldn’t I want Antonio here all the time?

  That was it—the only thing missing from my life. I was going to do it.

  I was going to ask Antonio to move in with me!

  Chapter 25

  Chyanne

  Morning sickness was no joke!

  This was the third month of my pregnancy, and I just prayed that it would get better in the fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth month.

  Yes! I had decided to keep my baby. That was a huge decision, but I just couldn’t think about killing this baby inside of me. Just having that thought now made me put my hand over my stomach. So, I was going to keep what God had put inside of me. There must have been some reason why he allowed me to get pregnant—even in the middle of the sin of fornication. And actually, I’d been all up in the sin of adultery, too, without even knowing it.

  Oh, God! I was going to be sick again.

  But then the feeling passed quickly, and I held my face down in the sink and rinsed out my mouth, then splashed water onto my face. Reaching for a paper towel, I dried off, then stared at my reflection in the mirror. No matter what I did, my eyes still had nothing but sadness in them. I guessed it was because I still loved Malcolm, and it was because I just prayed that I was doing the right thing.

  I had actually decided to
keep this baby. I still couldn’t believe it, didn’t know how I was going to do it. But I would survive. I just had to put my big girl panties on and handle it.

  With my eyes still on the mirror, I pleaded to God: “Lord, I don’t know how I got here, but please see me through!”

  I straightened my clothes, smoothed out my jacket, then headed back down the hallway. I was ready to face the rest of my day. My thoughts were on how many times I’d have to run from Malcolm today, since my assistant had called in sick. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t here to protect me, but I didn’t really expect things to be that bad. Ever since Malcolm had come into my office to explain, he’d pretty much stayed out of my way.

  I stepped into my office but then stopped right at the edge. I stood frozen as I stared inside. I stood frozen as I stared at Malcolm’s wife.

  Her back was to me as she strolled in front of my desk, lifting picture after picture that I had displayed of my family and friends.

  Why was she here? Did she know? Oh, God, I didn’t want any type of confrontation. That was when I decided to just turn around, sneak out before she even knew that I was here. But I was too late. She turned around before I could.

  “Chyanne,” she said. “I was waiting for you.”

  Talking about wearing big girl panties! I took a deep breath, stepped into my office, and closed the door, though I wondered if that was such a good idea. I walked past Kayla and stood behind my desk.

  I looked into her eyes for a hint of what was to come and released a breath of relief—she didn’t look like a crazy woman ready to kill, though what I did see in her eyes was much worse. What I saw in her eyes was a sadness that matched the sadness that was in mine.

  Slowly, I sat down in my chair. I still hadn’t said one word to this woman. I didn’t know what to say. But then she started talking . . . and I just listened.

  “I met Malcolm when I was just eighteen years old,” she said. “And that man . . . he swept me off my feet. He was so charming and so debonair.”

  She had said only a few words, but I totally understood. I was older than she was when I met him, but not by much.