by Shelly Ellis
Because he told me he was.
He had claimed he was ready, though she had secretly worried that Terrence wasn’t the commitment type. A part of her had suspected that he would one day realize that monogamy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But she’d never thought he’d hurt her on this grand a scale, in this big of a way.
And Paulette was worried that I’d be the one to hurt him, she now thought bitterly.
Why had Terrence convinced her to come back if he was going to do this? He could have left her alone, allowed her to return to her work and the independent life she’d had before they’d met. Instead, he had asked her—no, begged her—to take him back, only to break her heart all over again, but this time worse than before.
C. J. didn’t know how long she had been standing in their kitchen, staring down at the brown-and-black granite countertop, before Terrence finally walked through the front door, shutting it behind him. He turned on the overhead lights and rushed toward her.
“Baby, I’m so sorry that happened that way. I never would’ve—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand, stopping him. “Don’t do it. I don’t need your apologies or excuses, Terry.” She raised her eyes to glare at him. “Whatever shit you’re trying to feed me, you can fuckin’ eat it yourself!”
“I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t cheat on you! I hooked up with Daphne when we weren’t together. It happened while we were broken up, when I went up to New York. I didn’t—”
“While you were in New York?” she repeated, frowning.
She remembered now that he had told her that a woman from his brief trip to New York had been trying to contact him.
“I think it’s someone from the modeling agency. I guess they can’t take the hint that I’m not interested,” he had explained casually when she asked him about a text on his phone screen one day. He had deleted it, and she hadn’t asked him any more questions. She hadn’t given it a second thought.
Because I was dumb enough to believe him, she now thought angrily, shoving back from the counter.
“So you hooked up with someone at the modeling agency?. . . Is that what you’re telling me? You made up that bullshit story about how she was trying to contact you to get you modeling again when she was really trying to tell you that you’re her baby daddy?”
He lowered his head, shamefaced. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t meet her at the modeling agency. I met her at . . .” He exhaled. “I met her at a bar in Midtown.”
C. J. stared at him, struck mute all over again. “Wait . . . Wait! You’re telling me she was some random chick you met at a bar?”
“I was . . . I was in a dark place, C. J. I was depressed and acting out. We’d . . . We’d had that fight and you had kicked me out of your apartment. I didn’t know—”
“Don’t you dare . . . don’t you fucking dare blame this shit on me!” she screamed, unable to control herself any longer.
She charged out of the kitchen toward him with tears pouring out of her eyes and down her cheeks. She shoved him with all her might, sending him back several feet, making him bump into the back of the leather sectional.
“Don’t you dare blame me, Terry!” She pounded at his chest. “Fuck you! Fuck you for not keeping your dick in your pants! Fuck you for being a liar, you son of a bitch! You son of a bitch!” she screeched.
She slapped him across one cheek then the other. He didn’t raise a hand to defend himself. Instead, he grabbed her wind-milling arms and held them at her sides. He held her against his chest, and she soaked his shirt and tie with her tears. When he wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of hers, she violently shoved back from him.
“Don’t touch me!” she sobbed. “Don’t touch me, goddamnit!”
“Baby, I’m sorry. I would—”
“Stop it with that ‘baby’ shit!” She wrenched free of his grasp. “Don’t try to placate me with any more of your ‘babe, baby, honey’ bullshit!”
He fell silent.
“You accused me of hooking up with Shaun and I didn’t. I stayed true to you even when you doubted me, Terry! And while we were broken up, I didn’t fuck anybody else. I didn’t get pregnant! And I damn sure didn’t dump something like this on you weeks before our wedding! I never . . . I would never do this to you!”
He slowly shook his head, still unable to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I am so sorry,” he kept mumbling.
She bit down hard on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, too—because I can’t do this shit anymore.”
C. J. grabbed her purse from where she had thrown it on the sofa and headed toward the front door. She didn’t know where she was going, where she would stay, but there was no way she was sleeping in the condo tonight.
“Wait! Wait, goddamnit!” he shouted, running after her, grabbing her arm.
“Let go of me.” She tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp but he held firm this time.
“No! No, I can’t lose you over this! We’re supposed to get married in two weeks, C. J. We can work this out!”
“No, we can’t.”
His face crumpled. Watching him, he looked like he was physically in pain, but the pain she felt was worse. C. J. felt like she was being ripped apart at the seams, like her limbs were being yanked in all directions.
“Dammit, I didn’t cheat on you! I’m not lying! I’ve told you everything. I . . . I know I fucked up! I made a mistake, a big mistake, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to spend my life with you. It doesn’t change how I feel about you!”
“But it changes how I feel about you! Don’t you get that?”
“Look, cuss me out all you want,” he charged, firing words at her, tightening his grip even as she tried once again pull away from him. “Call me every damn name in the book! I can take it. I’ll accept it!”
C. J. closed her eyes again.
“Hell, hit me! Slap me twenty more times if it makes you feel better—but don’t . . . don’t leave me! Don’t walk out like this! Don’t give up on us!”
It would be so easy to do as he asked, to take out her frustrations on him. She’d tearfully punch Terrence a few times and slap him silly. He’d let her weep before holding her and wiping away her tears. They’d kiss and the kiss would eventually turn into passionate makeup sex against the living room wall or on the sofa.
Yeah, that’s how it’ll probably play out, she thought with disgust.
But after the makeup sex was over . . . after they fell asleep and woke up in each other’s arms, she would have to face the reality of what had happened tonight. She would have to face the fact that Terrence was telling her the truth now, but he had lied to her all along about the Daphne woman who had been trying to contact him. She’d also have to accept that if Daphne was telling the truth and Terrence was the father of Daphne’s baby—he would have one messy drama on his hands.
This is not how C. J. had planned to start off their marriage. This isn’t what she had envisioned, and because life had thrown her this curve ball, she had to step back and seriously consider her next step. She had to take some time and space for herself even if it hurt him—and her—to do so.
“I didn’t say I was giving up,” she whispered. “But you do need to let me go.”
After some seconds, he finally did that—with great reluctance.
She then threw her satchel strap over her shoulder and headed to the front door.
“C. J.,” he called after her, “tell me what I have to do. What do I have to do to make this right?”
“You really wanna know what you can do, Terry?” she asked as she opened the front door. “Just leave me the hell alone!”
He grimaced just as she slammed the door shut.
Chapter 22
Evan
Evan knocked on the closed office door. He waited a beat for a response. When he heard nothing, he knocked again.
“Come in,” Terrence finally called out, and Evan pushed the door open.
&
nbsp; Terrence had occupied the office three doors down from Evan’s own for only four months, but he’d already given the room his personal touch. While Evan’s C-suite office was all glass, chrome, and clean lines—reflecting his no-nonsense approach to business—Terrence’s office was filled with chocolate leather sofas and ebony desks and bookshelves—reflecting Terrence’s laid-back, masculine style. The accents were simple but contemporary. The lighting was warm. Evan felt the same way when he walked into this room as he did whenever he had a heart-to-heart with his brother. He felt comforted.
Evan strolled across the throw rug to Terrence’s desk. Terrence’s back was toward him; he was staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Potomac River.
“So what’s this I hear from your boy Max about you canceling your bachelor party next week? He said he got a text from you saying to cancel it and you won’t call him back. I thought you were all geared up to . . .”
His words faded when Terrence turned around to face him. He cringed.
Terrence looked horrible! Bags were under his eyes and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. He wasn’t wearing a necktie. His shirt looked wrinkled, like he hadn’t bothered to iron it.
“What the hell happened to you? Are you sick?”
“No, I’m not sick.”
“Well, you look like shit! Is that why you canceled the bachelor party?” Evan asked as he lowered himself into one of the chairs facing Terrence’s desk.
Terrence slowly shook his head, looking dazed.
“Then what the hell happened? Talk to me!”
Terrence closed his eyes then opened them. He took a deep breath. “C. J. . . . C. J. left me, man.”
“What?” Evan cried. He stared at his brother, completely shocked. “You’re kidding, right? When did she leave you? When did that happen?”
“Friday night.” Evan watched as Terrence dropped his elbows onto his desk and lowered his head into his hands. The younger man tiredly scrubbed his face. “And I’ve been thinking about this shit all weekend. I can’t focus on anything else,” he said into his palms.
“Why would she leave you? You guys are only days away from walking down the aisle! Why would she—”
“Because I got somebody pregnant! Okay?” Terrence said, dropping his hands to his desk.
Evan went mute. His stomach dropped to his shoes.
“That chick who I hooked up with in New York . . . who had been calling me and calling me . . . I finally found out why she was calling.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed. “She had the baby two months ago. His name is Duncan. She showed up at my place Friday night to give me the news in person since I wasn’t returning her messages.”
Evan gritted his teeth. “Goddamnit,” he spat. “Goddamnit, Terry! How could you do this? How could you be so . . . so fucking irresponsible?”
“Look, the last thing I need is a lecture from you, Ev,” he said tightly, glaring at his older brother. “All right?”
“Why would you hook up with a stranger like that? Why didn’t you wear a damn condom? You know—”
“I thought I did! But I told you . . . I was drunk. So was Daphne! I guess my memory of that night isn’t as good as I thought it was.”
“So you might have worn one, then? Then the baby might not be yours?”
“Maybe,” Terrence conceded with a lazy shrug. “We’re doing a DNA swab test later this week. It should take a few days for the results. But none of that shit matters! C. J. thinks I was trying to cover it up. She thinks I lied to her and . . . and . . . now I don’t know what’s going to happen with us. She won’t return my phone calls or texts. I don’t even know where she’s staying! She told me to leave her the hell alone . . . to let her . . . let her do her own thing. I guess she needs time alone to figure this out, but . . .” He clenched his hands into fists then released them. “But I can’t! I can’t, Ev!”
“I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to do it, Terry.”
“But what if she decides to leave me?” he shouted. “What if she cancels the wedding and—”
“Then she cancels it,” Evan answered solemnly, “and you’ll have to respect her decision.”
Terrence’s face went slack. He looked close to breaking into tears.
“Look, I’ve been where you are, okay?” Evan rushed out, gazing into Terrence’s hollow eyes.
Evan had also been at the mercy of the woman he loved, hoping desperately that she would take him back. Miraculously, Leila had done it. She had forgiven him, but C. J. may not do the same.
“I had to wait. I had to pour out my heart and let Lee decide what she wanted to do . . . and you’ll have to do it, too, with C. J. You can’t force this, Terry.”
Terrence lowered his head again.
“Besides, it sounds like you have an even bigger issue to deal with now.”
Terrence looked up at him. He frowned. “Which is?”
“That you could be a father! You’ve got a little guy who’ll have to depend on you. That’s a lifetime commitment. You’ve got to be there for him!”
Terrence gradually nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
Evan rose from his chair. “It’s going to be okay . . . whatever happens.”
Terrence didn’t respond.
“I have to head back to my office for a meeting, but if you need to talk some more, I can—”
“I’m good.” Terrence held up his hand. “I’ll work through it. That’s what therapy is for, right?”
Evan laughed sadly. “Exactly.”
* * *
A minute later, Evan walked back down the corridor to his office, his mind now sluggish with worry.
Just when it seemed like things had finally settled down with his family, something else popped up. Unrest and upheaval were painful and consistent realities for the Murdochs. They couldn’t get away from it! He hoped, for Terrence’s sake, that this latest bout with C. J. would rectify itself, though he knew they both were in for major drama if Terrence turned out to be the baby’s father. Something like that could have a huge impact on their lives and future marriage. He hoped Terrence was prepared.
As Evan neared his office, he slowed to a stop.
He saw his assistant, Adrienne, talking to a woman standing near her desk. Though he couldn’t see her face from this angle through the glass enclosure, he knew instantly who the woman was. He would know that lean frame in a pink pencil skirt and the sun-kissed blond hair anywhere. Maybe she’d felt his eyes upon her, because as he drew closer, Charisse turned to face him. She grinned as he stepped through the doorway.
“Why, hello, Evan! Your secretary said I had just missed you. Glad you’re back!”
He warily eyed his ex-wife. “What the hell are you doing here, Charisse?”
In response, she raised her eyebrows and barked out a laugh. “That’s how you greet the woman you were married to for five and a half years? I can’t get a ‘Hello, Charisse! How are you, Charisse?’”
He glanced at Adrienne, who had returned her attention to her laptop screen and was pretending not to overhear their conversation, but he could tell that she was listening.
“Look,” he said, dropping his voice down to a whisper, “I have a very busy schedule today, and I don’t have time for your bullshit, so if you have something to tell me, say it quickly.”
“Fine. I was going to give it to you in your office privately, but I guess I’ll just do it out here, then,” she said as she shoved her hand into her snakeskin hobo bag.
“Do what?”
He watched as she pulled out her cell phone. She then pressed a button, and a voice erupted from the phone’s speaker, filling Adrienne’s office.
“Well, it looks like you’ve covered all your bases. Let’s hope for your sake you’re a convincing liar on the stand . . . that the jury will believe your account of what happened that night,” he heard Charisse say.
“I’ve never had a problem convincing people in the past,” Dante said before break
ing into laughter.
At the sound of his half brother’s voice, Evan stilled.
“I’ve been a lawyer for fifteen years, Charisse. I know how to work a courtroom. Jurors are bigger dupes than most! Put on a good enough performance and they’ll believe anything. Trust me, once I’m done with my testimony, Evan won’t stand a chance.”
Evan watched as Charisse pressed the stop button on the phone screen.
“How . . . how the hell did you . . .” Evan sputtered before falling silent, absolutely stunned.
She grinned. “Got time for me now?”
Chapter 23
Dante
“What the hell do you mean, you’re dropping the charges?” Dante yelled as he slammed his fist on the conference table, making a pitcher and tray of cups rattle. “Are you shitting me? You can’t do this! I want Evan Murdoch tried and put in jail! Do you hear me?”
The commonwealth’s attorney looked up from shuffling papers in his manila folder and gazed at Dante blandly. He then adjusted his wire-framed glasses, which were sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I heard you quite clearly, Mr. Turner, and I will ask you to lower your voice.”
“I can’t believe you guys are doing this. This is just . . . just outrageous!” Dante bellowed, ignoring his request. “It’s a travesty of the justice system!”
“It’s not a travesty. We simply were presented with new information and, therefore, are no longer able to move forward with the charges against Mr. Murdoch.”
“Bullshit! Bullshit!” Dante felt a vein throb along his forehead as pain radiated across his skull. The overhead lights felt too bright. He was having a hard time seeing straight. He narrowed his eyes and pointed at the balding, frumpy man sitting across the table from him. “The Murdochs got to you, didn’t they? Threw some money at you to get you to back down, and you just—”
“If you are suggesting that Evan Murdoch bribed me into dropping the case against him, I can assure you that is not what happened. I did it strictly based upon the new evidence that was presented . . . previous information that was not disclosed. I made my decision accordingly.”