Heartfelt

by Danielle Allen

  “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

  The air left my lungs and my heart lurched in my chest. Closing my eyes, I felt the stress, anxiety, and worry ease out of my body. But the tightness in my chest cavity made it hard to breathe.

  God, I love her.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she repeated.

  And I believed her. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of security that I’d spent so much of my life missing.

  Running my hand down my face, I choked out the question that I decided I wouldn’t ask her. “Will you…will you come to the funeral with me?”

  The question spilled out of me before I could stop it. I felt open, exposed. But the need to have her by my side was too great.

  “Of course,” she answered without hesitation. “When is it? I’ll let Nina know tonight.”

  “The wake is on Friday. The funeral is Saturday. Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me.”

  I stood up, wiping the last remaining droplets of water from my body. “What are you wearing right now?”

  The change in subject was abrupt, but I knew it wouldn’t be unexpected. Bianca’s throaty laugh confirmed that she understood and it made me smile.

  “I’m wearing that paint splattered t-shirt that you left here last weekend.”

  Pulling on a pair of basketball shorts, I joked, “Again? Didn’t you have that on Friday night?”

  “Shut up!” She giggled. “I can’t help it. I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too. I think it’s sexy that you’ve been wearing my t-shirt all weekend. You should send me a picture.”

  I padded across the hall to my office.

  “You want a picture of me in your shirt?” Bianca’s sexy voice oozed through the phone and heat flooded my system. Plopping down in the leather desk chair, I powered on my computer and then reclined back.

  “I want a picture of you every single day we aren’t together.”

  “I’ve been in long distance relationships before, but I’ve never missed anyone the way I miss you. I wish you were here. Not being able to look you in your eyes or touch you whenever I want is… It’s intense,” Bianca admitted quietly.

  “I feel the same way. Long distance is rough.”

  Too rough, I thought, feeling that heaviness in my chest again. The last time I was in a long distance relationship—

  She cleared her throat, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s change the subject.”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah. Tell me about the event you had at Pho last night.”

  My fingers flew across the keyboard as Bianca told me about the art exhibition. Her voice was bursting with excitement as she detailed the duties she was responsible for over the course of the event at Pho Gallery.

  Her supervisor, Nina Lowe, was known for her extravagant events and inventive style. My representative, Charlotte Spence, was often contacted about having her clients participate in Nina’s exhibits. It would only be a matter of time before Bianca and I would be working together professionally again. As she spoke, my pride in her grew.

  “And after I came up with the adjustments so quickly, she said I was going to take her job soon! Nina Lowe said I was going to take her job soon! And then she said that she wants to see how I do on my own for the next event. So by the end of the year, I’ll be putting together an entire exhibit on my own,” Bianca concluded giddily.

  “I’m not surprised, B. You’re good. Really good.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” I clicked a few more buttons so that an email confirmation would be sent to both me and Bianca. “You’re naturally talented and you have an eye for art, detail and design. Your time is coming. Working under Nina is a formality. You are a curator.”

  She was quiet for so long that if I hadn’t heard her breathing, I would’ve assumed the call was disconnected.

  I opened my mouth to speak when she murmured, “So this is what support feels like.” She paused. “Feels good.”

  Sadness laced her voice. It was faint, but it was there and it hurt my heart. I hated when she was anything, but happy.

  “You know what else feels good?”

  “I can’t stand you,” she laughed, all traces of sadness gone.

  The loud, throaty sound soothed me in ways I couldn’t explain. The weight of the world seemed to lift off of me.

  She really does make everything better.

  I would do any and everything in my power to make her feel just as good as she makes me feel.

  It’s the least I could do.

  Logging out of my email account, I sat back in the chair and let my head drop back. “Check your email.”

  “Okay, hold on.”

  Closing my eyes, I could almost visualize her climbing out of her bed and strutting across the room to get her laptop. I could see her in just my t-shirt and nothing else. Although I waited patiently, listening to the soft click of keys as she typed, my mind was consumed by thoughts of her round ass peeking out from under the hem of my shirt.

  Lost in the fantasy of running my hands over her smooth skin, my dick twitched at the thought.

  “Ro!” Bianca squealed, interrupting my thoughts.

  My eyes flew open as if I’d been caught fantasizing.

  “Thank you!”

  Laughing to myself, I stood up and left the room.

  “You did not have to do this! I can pay for my own flight,” she continued.

  “I want you to come with me so I paid for you to do it.”

  “If I have access to this blood money that my parents give me in exchange for whoring me out, then I want to use it for good.”

  I balked before a deep chuckle rumbled out of me as I collapsed on my king sized bed. “Whoring you out? Did you really describe going to the parties that your parents throw as whoring you out?!”

  “Yes and I stand by the comparison. I don’t know what’s worse: my parents being snobby, condescending, pompous, money hungry assholes or me for being dependent on their money.” She heaved a loud sigh. “Speaking of, not this Friday but next Friday, our presence is being requested at The Brownstone.”

  I shook my head. Instead of calling it her parents’ home, she referred to it as ‘The Brownstone.’

  “That sounds fun,” I joked.

  “Yeah. Right,” she retorted with a dry laugh. “But they’ve paid for me to be in attendance. The only thing that will make the evening tolerable is having you by my side. You don’t have plans that week, do you?”

  “I’m just giving a special lecture at Virginia Commonwealth University on Thursday, but besides that and getting some painting in, I’m free.”

  “Wait, what?” Bianca screeched. “That’s amazing!”

  I smiled, letting her excitement fill me. “Thank you.”

  “Are you excited?”

  “Yeah, I am. But I’m more excited about seeing you,” I replied honestly.

  “Is that why you purchased this ridiculously expensive ticket? I don’t need a first class seat! I don’t want you spending this kind of money on me. Even if you are a famous, big time artist, I don’t want you to blow it all on me.”

  “If it’s on you, I’m not blowing it.”

  “I’m serious, Ro. I don’t want—”

  “If I have the money to take care of my woman, I’m taking care of my woman,” I joked, interrupting her to stop the direction the conversation was going in.

  She groaned with laughter. “The feminist in me is cringing right now.”

  I laughed along with her as I rolled onto my side. “But you fell a little harder for me, didn’t you?”

  “Do you know how much you sound like Easy right now?” she deadpanned.

  “No, I don’t!”

  “You do and it’s gross.”

  I chuckled. “Anyway, how’s Amber and the baby doing?”

  “Chunk is so good! He doesn’t cry that much which is a blessing. They are moving out soon and I was hoping they
would be able to stay in Chelsea. There’s a unit coming available in my building and then across the street, there’s an even better unit that’ll be on the market in the next couple of weeks. She talked to her boyfriend and they couldn’t afford it. So they are moving to Brooklyn and taking my little Chunk with them.”

  As Bianca’s voice went up an octave as she cooed over the cuteness of the month-old infant she called Chunk, I breathed a sigh of relief that I was able to change the subject successfully.

  I knew I’d have to tell her about my trust fund. And I planned to do it sooner rather than later. But it didn’t seem like an over-the-phone conversation and when we were together, we spent our time enjoying each other’s company. And with her complicated relationship with wealth, it wasn’t an easy subject to broach.

  Even though Bianca enjoyed the lifestyle her parents’ money provided her, she rejected what it represented. After her parents sold the house in Virginia, their relationship became even more strained. Telling her that my trust fund probably rivaled hers was going to take time.

  And at least two bottles of her favorite wine.

  ----------

  Chapter Two

  I stifled a yawn as I rolled over in bed and shut off my alarm clock. Without opening my eyes, I debated if I wanted to get out of bed. Although I needed to go for a run, I wasn’t ready to let go of the dream I was having. But the harder I tried to chase the dream, the more I forgot.

  Opening my eyes slowly, I stared at the ceiling for a minute recalling the last little bit of the dream that I could remember. It wasn’t much, but I remembered Bianca was there and that was enough to put a smile on my face.

  Okay, time to get up, I thought as I stretched my naked body across my king sized bed before throwing the white sheets off of me.

  Pulling on a t-shirt, the shorts from the night before, and sneakers, I jogged down the stairs. As soon as I opened the door, the slight chill in the air woke me all the way up. With my keys in my pocket, I cast a look around the quiet neighborhood before closing the front door behind me. I turned the knob several times to ensure it was locked before I took off.

  Jogging down the street, I inhaled and exhaled easily, despite the chill in the air biting my lungs. With each step, my body warmed up and my mind became clearer. Acknowledging a neighbor who waved as he jogged past me, presumably finishing his run¸ I looked around again.

  That’s odd.

  There usually wasn’t anyone in the park when I arrived. When I got to the park at the end of the street, I looked around again and saw a blonde ponytail bouncing toward the trail. I stopped in my tracks.

  Hannah?

  I hadn’t seen Hannah Webb in months and I had hoped she had moved.

  God, I hope it’s not her.

  Shaking my head, I put my earbuds in my ears and took off running down the paved three-mile trail. As my feet hit the pavement, I didn’t think about the upcoming funeral, Bianca’s parent’s party, or possibly having to deal with the jogger who looked a lot like Hannah from behind. As I passed the woman who looked like Hannah from behind, I didn’t turn around to confirm if it was her or not. I just kept running.

  With my mind cleared completely, I just focused on the beat that pulsed in my ears. Pumping my arms and legs faster, I focused entirely on the ache I felt in my muscles and the burn I felt in my lungs.

  When I finished, I moved in a wide circle with my hands clasped on top of my head, trying to catch my breath. Sweat dripped from my forehead and I didn’t bother to wipe it. After my cool down, I turned to head back home.

  As my breathing normalized and my heart stopped pounding, a realization hit me.

  Elizabeth is pretty high-strung, but she seemed eerily calm when we talked Friday night…almost like she was heavily medicated or she was prepared for this to happen. But if she knew he was sick, wouldn’t she have said something to me about it? And if she’s dealing with his death with medication, that can’t be good. Something is not adding up.

  Ever since I flew to California to hash things out with William and Elizabeth, my relationship with them had improved. I talked to them at least once a week. It wasn’t perfect, but I was trying.

  But I could’ve tried harder.

  Running my hands down my face, I climbed the steps to my house. Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I unlocked the door.

  “Roman!”

  Before I walked in, I heard my name being screamed throughout the neighborhood. I turned around and saw Hannah running up the street, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her.

  My first instinct was to continue into the house, but I didn’t want to be rude.

  “Hi Hannah,” I responded when she stopped in front of my house.

  “Hi, how are you?” She was breathless as she made her way to my porch, stopping at the bottom step. “Where have you been hiding? I see you go running even earlier nowadays.”

  Purposely ignoring the rest of her statement, I replied politely, “I’m fine. How are you?”

  “I’ve been better. I’ve put on a few pounds.” She lifted her tank top to expose her flat belly. Her skintight black pants sat low on her hips and when she turned slightly so I could see her ass, she continued flirtatiously, “I don’t mind a few extra pounds back here. And I know you don’t either. You like a big, round ass don’t you? Something to grab on to, you know?” She winked. “But I want to make sure I still look good in a string bikini.”

  As I stared at her heavily made up face, I could see in my peripheral vision that she had lifted her tank top higher, exposing her low cut sports bra.

  Looking away from her to scan the neighborhood, I barked sharply, “Hannah, put your shirt down.” Resuming eye contact, I glared at her. “I’m not interested in you. And I have a girlfriend.”

  She rolled her eyes. “So? It’s not like you’re married.”

  I shook my head. “Go home.”

  She flashed a conniving smile. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  I felt my anger bubbling up to the surface and before I could open my mouth to speak, she added, “I won’t tell Easy either. Or maybe I will tell him. That would drive him crazy. I might tell him we had sex even if we don’t.”

  “Hannah, this will be the last time I speak to you so I want you to understand when I say this: fuck you. Don’t disrespect my girlfriend, my relationship or my best friend again. You don’t fuck with people I care about.”

  Hannah’s face contorted in shock before she took a step back. “I, uh… I didn’t mean…”

  Turning around, I walked in the house and slammed the door behind me.

  “What the fuck is wrong with people?” I grumbled as I went to the kitchen to get a bottle of water.

  Hydrated, but frustrated, I threw the empty water bottle in the trash can with more force than I intended. I didn’t get riled up about much, but Hannah pushed all of my buttons.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I entered my bedroom and immediately went to my iPod docking station and pressed play. Turning the music up loudly, I stripped out of my sweaty clothes, kicking them in the general vicinity of the hamper. I barely stopped moving as I made my way into the bathroom for a shower.

  In thirty minutes, I was freshly showered, dressed and in my car. I stopped for a bite to eat before heading to Art House. Finishing my cheeseburger in the car, I watched as Aniko strolled into the building, with her long black hair swinging behind her.

  Aniko Maki was Monroe Daniels’ newest assistant. After firing Meredith, Monroe hired a timid woman who couldn’t keep up with the demands of the job.

  Or rather, the demands of Monroe.

  She lasted through the summer before Monroe got rid of her. Two weeks later, the fast-talking Aniko started.

  “Hi Roman!” Monroe called as soon as I got out of my car. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in weeks!”

  Looking over my shoulder as I headed toward the front door, I greeted her in return. “Hey.”

  I heard her heels clicking against th
e walkway as she hurried to fall into stride with me.

  “You didn’t forget about the event tonight, did you?” Monroe sang happily.

  I did.

  “What event?”

  “Roman! The charity event!” She ran her hands through her red hair. “How could you have forgotten?”

  I opened the door for her and then followed her in.

  “Because I’ve been busy and I didn’t plan on attending.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrugged and continued to the elevator. “Not my scene.”

  Hitting the elevator call button, I blocked out Monroe’s voice as she droned on about the event excitedly. When the elevator door opened, she followed me in.

  I know I haven’t seen her much since I’d spent so much time in New York over the last month, but I don’t know why she would assume that anything has changed. I still don’t want to talk.

  I opened my mouth to stop her when she said the last thing I expected her to say.

  “Meredith came by this morning,” Monroe blurted out, blinking up at me.

  My mouth snapped shut.

  I can’t deal with her crazy ass again.

  The door opened and neither one of us moved. “I thought you made it clear that she wasn’t to come back to Art House.”

  “I did.” She glanced around nervously as the door closed with us standing on opposite sides of the unmoving car. “I told her we weren’t going to get a restraining order if she just stayed away from you and Art House.”

  “So after six months she decided that she didn’t have to adhere to that anymore?”

  The elevator started descending back down to the first floor as I waited for Monroe’s response.

  “I know. I was just as surprised and horrified as you are. I mean, she embarrassed me and my business! I trusted her and she pursued her ridiculous crush in the most ridiculous of ways!” Her voice started to sound shrill. “I worked too hard to make a name for Art House!”

  “So what did she want?”

  “She wanted a letter of recommendation. I told her I’d let her know by the end of the week. I wanted to speak with you about it. I hadn’t seen you in a while, but Aniko said you came in late Friday night so I knew you were around. You hadn’t returned my calls so I knew I’d have to try to catch you in passing.”