Keep My Baby Safe

by Bella Grant

  She waited patiently for the slow elevator—the other reason she often took the stairs—walked in, pushed the button for four, and settled against the back wall to remove her shoes. The doors opened as quickly as a snail moved, and as she trudged down the short hall to her door, she smiled contentedly. What a great night, she mused as she walked through her door and turned to lock the three locks she’d installed herself after moving in.

  Sighing, she glanced around the apartment she rented, a small place she’d found when she’d decided to sell the house she had shared with Travis. The judge had awarded it to her in the divorce, and she’d managed to hold on to it for the first year. Her debt, though, had been nearly crippling because she was still gambling, so she sold the house before she could no longer afford it and put a nice dent in the money she owed. The guilt over selling the house had been great, but it had dwindled with time, just like she thought her love for Travis had.

  After seeing him earlier this evening, though, she’d felt a little more than merely lust. A lot more, actually. The man had been the love of her life and still was, but they’d destroyed each other. If she ever found another man to love, she knew that love would pale in comparison, and her heart broke with that knowledge.

  “Stop it,” she ordered herself as she tossed her shoes near the wall in her bedroom and began shedding her clothes as she walked to the bathroom. She looked at her reflection and saw the hint of sadness she’d been hiding all night. With a self-deprecating laugh, she pointed at herself in the mirror and said, “Get over him. You were fine until you saw him.”

  But she had never gotten over him. She thought about him at least once a week, usually briefly, but the thought still appeared. A random song, a restaurant on a commercial, even certain foods. The worst was when she opened her jewelry box for something and would see both her wedding ring, which he’d told her to keep, and the sapphire ring he’d bought her for her birthday on their last night together.

  She washed her face and brushed her teeth without looking in the mirror again. A fresh desire to look at the pair of rings stung her brain, but she refused to give in to it. The sadness would linger if she gave in to the impulse, and she needed to stop thinking about him, not stare at reminders of him. When she did look at her reflection again, it was with determination.

  She stomped to her bed and threw back the pale blue comforter to snuggle in her bed under the covers. Growling, she pushed them off again and hurried into the living room to get her phone, which she’d left on the table with her purse, and a glass of water for the nightstand. She plugged her phone into the charger since it was almost dead, lay down again, and thanked the gods for lengthy power cords.

  A little Facebook before sleeping, she decided as she opened the app and began to scroll. She and Alyssa had uploaded a handful of pics in one post, selfies that showed the two of them at the restaurant/bar where they’d eaten—and where she’d run into Travis—as well as two or three of them dancing at the club. Nothing inappropriate, no drunken shots. They were professionals and had to be careful on social media.

  With a smile at their silliness, she clicked on the notifications to see who had liked their pictures. They already had nearly seventy likes, and laughs, and loves, and several comments as well from friends and acquaintances. Her boss had liked the post, as well as his partner, Ronnie, who had also commented something about her snazzy outfit and wishing he’d had time to do her hair before she’d gone out for the night. Ronnie owned a hair salon and loved doing her hair because, as he claimed, she had the softest hair he’d ever had the pleasure of styling.

  She flipped back to the notifications and saw a friend request from none other than her ex-husband. Her stomach jolted, and her mouth fell open in a gasp. She remembered speaking to him about Facebook but hadn’t actually expected him to friend her that evening, if at all. She rolled over on her back to stare at his profile picture.

  She was incredibly disappointed that his profile picture was a landscape picture of some fabulous place he’d visited, she’d bet. She scrolled down but couldn’t see much until she’d accepted his friend request. She flipped back and accepted, then touched his profile pic again so she could do a little trolling. She looked through his pictures for nearly fifteen minutes without finding a single one of women she didn’t know. She wondered if, like her, he hadn’t dated much, had found no one he wanted to share his time with.

  “Yeah, right,” she said aloud as she continued to peruse his profile, chuckling at some of the memes he’d posted. The reason he hadn’t dated was the same reason they had divorced: his work. He didn’t have time for a woman, and she couldn’t imagine a woman putting up with never seeing him, especially at the beginning of the relationship. His success indicated he’d spent the last five years at his job.

  The profile picture was the only one that looked like a vacation spot, so she wondered if he even enjoyed the money he was making. Probably not, she thought, shaking her head as she leaned over to place the phone on her bedside table. After a quick drink of water to rehydrate, she clicked off her lamp and rolled over to sleep.

  And she fell asleep with Travis in her head, and when she dreamt, he was the man beside her, smiling brightly at her as he clasped her hand in his.

  Chapter 3

  Travis rose at seven sharp the next morning, regardless of the fact that Saturday had dawned rainy and dreary. He made coffee in his traditional pot, which he preferred to the Keurig nonsense because he would drink the entire pot before it cooled. He didn’t like the idea of making a brand-new cup every time he drained his. He filled his mug and wandered to his kitchen table overlooking the backyard, which was a wonderland of exotic plants, quaint fountains, and beautiful walkways he often traversed at three in the morning when he couldn’t sleep nor work.

  His home was located outside of the city on ten acres of land. When he had made his first million, he’d bought the old mansion for nothing and slowly restored it, doing what he could himself and hiring others for what he couldn’t. It had taken over a year to get the house to his specifications because he couldn’t work on it regularly while he was building his business.

  The house was kindly called a mansion even though it was the smallest one in what was loosely called a neighborhood. Most of the homes were acres apart and separated by wrought-iron fences that kept nothing in or out. His house contained five bedrooms, three full baths, and two half baths, which he’d thought was overkill until he’d noticed how far apart they were. His master bedroom, which was as big as the living room in the house he’d grown up in, had a balcony that looked over his backyard and its own bathroom the size of his bedroom at his parents’.

  Downstairs, the kitchen was state of the art so he could practice his cooking skills. He loved cooking, but he never did so because of his work schedule. Yet another thing to add to my list of to-dos, he mused as he glanced around the kitchen he so loved. He often worked from the home office he’d equipped with the newest technology and decorated with only his taste in mind. The living room and formal dining room weren’t finished yet because those were the rooms he’d use the least.

  He often sat in the kitchen or on one of the benches in the backyard and reflected on his life while drinking his coffee and staring out. He was ready to date. Seeing Diana, though, had thrown his idea of dating out of whack. Because he wanted to date her…which was insane considering how their marriage had ended. She couldn’t forgive him for chasing his dream, which he admitted now had taken him away from her too often, and he couldn’t forgive her for squandering their money in casinos.

  However, he did wonder if she had triumphed over the gambling as he was attempting to find a balance between his work and living a life. He’d always been grateful she’d turned to chance rather than drugs or alcohol, substances that would have ruined her life so much more than gambling.

  He sipped his coffee and stared at a squirrel scavenging under the oak trees for acorns, letting his mind drift to memories of Diana.
Spending time with her had been his favorite thing, and he’d tried to explain that to her. The reason he had worked so hard was to give her everything she deserved, but she had hated his absence. He wanted to apologize to her for that. With a shake of his head, he decided to rid himself of this maudlin attitude before he ruined a perfectly good Saturday.

  After pouring another cup of coffee to carry with him, he meandered through his house, intentionally avoiding the hideousness that was his unfinished front rooms, and into his office. He sat in the large, overstuffed desk chair and swiveled around to grab his iPad off the charger so he could enjoy a half hour of mindless scanning of news stories and social media. He pushed his mussed hair out of his face, wishing he’d grabbed an elastic band to hold it back. More often than not, people complimented his hair, but some days he missed the short style he’d worn for most of his life.

  His Facebook messenger app said he had a message, which he thought was strange. He almost didn’t open it because undoubtedly it would be someone he didn’t care to talk to. However, he hated the little red one in the corner so clicked on it. He never let his email fill up because he hated the clutter created by the red numbers.

  A message, the only one in the app, informed him that he and Diana Brooks were now connected. He was thankful he’d put his coffee down so he didn’t spill it when he suddenly jerked upright. She had accepted his request. He’d sent it as soon as he got home the night before but had gone to bed early because of the number of beers he’d consumed with Michael. Smiling, he sat back and navigated to her profile, deciding to see what she had been up to for the last few years.

  After twenty minutes of indulging in her beautiful face, he realized she hadn’t posted any pictures of men other than her boss, who he had researched immediately and discovered was gay. He felt a bit like a stalker, and the further he probed on her profile, the more obsessed he became. When he reached the six-year mark, he began to find pictures of he and Diana when they were together, and he sighed with longing at the happiness on his face and hers. They didn’t lose their happiness until the last six months or so of their marriage, and no pictures existed of them together during that time. She really hadn’t posted at all during that time.

  I miss her laugh, he thought as he found a picture of them taken by someone, he had no idea who. They were laughing, their heads thrown back and their mouths wide with merriment. The next picture he found of her was of the two of them again, another candid. He was staring at the camera, a stupid grin on his face which made him wonder if he’d been drunk. Diana, however, wasn’t looking at the camera. She was watching him, and the look of sincere love on her face nearly broke his heart.

  She never looked more beautiful than when she was in love, and I killed it, Travis thought as a pang of regret hit him in the chest. Sitting up, he set the iPad on his desk and put his head in his hands. They had been stupid—were still stupid—and he mourned the loss of their love like he would mourn the loss of a person. He thought he’d put those feelings behind him, but just the brief encounter with her had rekindled every burst of love he’d ever felt for her.

  Sitting up, he decided he’d send her a message. Maybe she feels the same way, he mused, his eyes closed as he sat back in the comfortable chair and let the idea wash over him. Her rejection would hurt should she not care for him anymore, but the idea of a renewed relationship with Diana gave him the courage to pick up the iPad to type out a message asking her if she’d like to go to dinner with him.

  Before he’d typed one word, though, his phone rang, and when he glanced at it, he frowned. He couldn’t ignore his mother, as much as he sometimes wanted to. The woman was adamant about his marrying again now that he was over thirty. She was dying for grandchildren. He picked up his phone and schooled his voice to restrain the annoyance at being interrupted.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, baby! What are you up to this morning?” she trilled, always so happy to talk to him. He felt a little guilty for letting the idea of ignoring her pass through his mind.

  “Not much, considering it’s only eight in the morning,” he responded with a laugh. His early morning habits had been inherited from Ayana Hodges, so they usually spoke in the morning rather than the evening.

  “How did your meeting go?” she asked, a smile in her voice.

  “Well, as usual,” he answered. “What are you and Dad doing today?”

  “The same thing you’re doing, baby,” she answered, her pet name the same as it had been when he was a toddler, a teenager, and a grown ass man.

  His brow furrowed. He had risen and headed to the kitchen during the conversation for more coffee, so his calendar wasn’t in front of him. “What’s that?”

  “Boy, I swear. You forget everything!” his mother admonished. “This is exactly why you need a wife.”

  “A secretary is more like it,” he corrected as he poured the last of the coffee into his mug and contemplated another pot as he shoved his hair back again. He loved the way it looked and refused to cut it, but it did drive him mad first thing in the morning before he pulled it back. “What am I forgetting and when am I supposed to be there? Oh, and where am I supposed to go?”

  “Jesus, boy, you have the memory of a goldfish,” she tsked, and he imagined her lips pressed together in irritation at his son.

  “Sorry, Mom,” he replied automatically as he grabbed the coffee and scooped more into a fresh filter he’d placed in the coffee pot.

  “What is all that racket?”

  “Making more coffee,” he answered.

  “Might try some water occasionally,” she warned, always concerned about the state of his health.

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Are you going to tell me where I’m supposed to be?” He hit the button to start the pot brewing and leaned against the counter rather than walk to his office to retrieve the mug he’d left in there. He’d hired a cleaning service to come in once a week to handle the hard stuff, and they had left him a note about the eight coffee cups in various states of mold in his office. An apology had been sent along with a bonus for the cleaning crew.

  “Always such a smarty,” she murmured. “You promised you’d attend the Save the Tatas luncheon this afternoon, remember?”

  “The Tatas?” he snorted. “What the hell?”

  “Breast cancer awareness, young man,” she corrected loudly.

  “Oh.” Travis was immediately contrite. “Sorry. I remember now. What time and where? I’ll be there with money in hand.” His mother was a survivor of breast cancer and a committed activist when it came to breast cancer research. She’d lost both her mother and grandmother to the disease.

  She chortled at his hastily offered apology. “One o’clock, and make sure you look good.”

  His suspicions rose as he listened to the final drip of coffee into the pot behind him. He turned and reached for another mug. “Why do I need to look good?”

  “Well,” she hedged, “you know you always look handsome, but there will be several young ladies there who I think you would find incredibly attractive.”

  “Attractive like actually pretty, or attractive like you want me to think they’re pretty?” he asked skeptically.

  “That is just plain rude, Travis.”

  “Mom, the last time you introduced me to an ‘attractive’ woman, her teeth nearly hit me every time she turned her head in my direction,” he reminded her, shuddering. The poor woman had looked like a beaver had somehow had a human baby.

  Ayana attempted to suppress her laughter but failed. “Yes, I’ll admit that was a poor choice on my end, but she really is one of the nicest young ladies I’ve ever met. And she’s from our tribe.”

  Travis rolled his eyes and thanked the gods his mother couldn’t see him. Since his childhood, she had told him stories of the great tribe from which they descended. His grandmother and grandfather were full-blooded Mosopelea and had nearly disowned Ayana when she’d married a white man, his father, Gus Hodges. Though she had chosen to marr
y outside the tribe, she had hoped he would find a nice Native American woman, even if she wasn’t Mosopelea.

  Against his better judgement, he decided to say, “So I ran into Diana last night.” Silence answered him, and he knew he’d made a mistake. “Mom?”

  “Did you speak to her?” Her voice had changed from the motherly love she always exuded to full-on malice.

  He cleared his throat and sipped his coffee to buy time. “Um, yes. Very briefly. I bought her a drink for her birthday yesterday.”

  “I don’t know why you would,” Ayana replied stiffly. “She kicked you out on her birthday. Nothing to celebrate, as far as I’m concerned.”

  Travis sighed as he prepared to defend a woman he wished was still in his life. “Mom, I was as much to blame for the end of our marriage. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”

  “She broke your heart. Therefore, as your mother, I will always hate her,” Ayana replied haughtily. After a moment of quiet, she continued in a sad voice. “She was such a nice girl, though.”

  He smiled at his mother’s kind heart. She couldn’t really hate anyone, though Diana was the closest she’d ever come to the negative emotion. “Still is.”

  Ayana gasped quietly and whispered through the phone, “You miss her.”

  “How do you do that?” Travis asked, not at all surprised that even through the phone his mother had known his thoughts.

  “The gods blessed some of our tribe with knowledge beyond what can be seen,” she intoned, then chuckled. “Or I just know my son. I know your heart, Travis, and you never stopped loving that woman.”