by Pamela Yaye
“I love you, Warrick, and I want to marry you.” When his face broke out into a smile, her heart surged with hope. Encouraged, she continued. “How do you feel about getting engaged this year? My birthday isn’t for a few more months, but I was thinking we could have a little party for our friends and family and announce our engagement then.”
Warrick shifted in his chair. “Do we have to have this conversation now? Lou Dobbs is about to start, and President Obama’s going to be discussing his stimulus plan for corporations.”
Crossing her arms, she slanted her head to the right, studying him with dark, narrowed eyes. He was kidding, right? Watching CNN was more important than discussing their relationship? Instead of going off on him, she replied calmly, surprising herself. “Our future is important to me, Warrick and I want to know where we stand. Is marriage part of our—”
“Babe, we’ve only been back together for a few months. What happened to spending time together and just enjoying each other’s company? Those were your words, remember?”
“Don’t you want to get married?”
“Of course I do, Tangela. You know how much I want to marry you.”
“When, Warrick? When?”
“Soon. Once things quiet down at the office—” “I’ve heard that one before,” she quipped, rolling her eyes.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”
Clutching the sides of the chair, she pushed herself to her feet. “I’m beginning to wonder why we even got back together,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “We want different things and there’s just no getting around it. I wish I’d been smart enough to realize that earlier, instead of letting you talk me into something I knew wasn’t going to work.”
“But I love you.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough.”
The silence was so loud, Tangela couldn’t hear herself think.
“Let’s discuss this another time. You’re upset, I’m tired and it’s late.”
Water swam in Tangela’s eyes. Her ears ached, but she could hear the irritation in his tone. She was having déjà vu. No, it wasn’t a feeling. They had had this conversation before. Sorry she’d ever said anything, but committed to seeing the conversation through, Tangela asked why he was scared of settling down. “What are you so afraid of, Warrick?”
“I’m not scared of anything, but while we’re on the subject, did you know that eighty percent of couples who get married before the age of thirty-six are divorced within three years?” He had the nerve to look pleased with himself. “There are a lot of benefits to waiting.”
“You expect me to wait around for the next five years?” The thought was absurd. She wanted to have kids—lots of kids, and at twenty-nine, time was starting to run out. Celebrities could pop babies out at forty, but she knew from talking to her physician that most women couldn’t. From the beginning, she’d been open and honest about what she wanted. Marriage, children and family mattered more to her than anything, and she wasn’t prepared to take any more chances. All she’d ever wanted to be was a wife and mother, and now Warrick was taking that away from her—again. She was hanging on to a dream, a fantasy, a hopeless aspiration of becoming his wife, and it was time she woke up. “Why did you pursue me if you weren’t ready to get married? You know how much having a family means to me.”
“I don’t like being bullied into things, Tangela. And in case you forgot, I’m the man in this relationship. Not you.” His acrimonious words pierced her flesh. “You don’t get to call the shots and dictate what I can and can’t do.”
Tangela frowned. That wasn’t Warrick talking. It sounded like something that jerk Quinten would say. Had the boozing womanizer been poisoning Warrick’s mind? Never married, and wary of long-term relationships, Quinten shared useless statistics and quotes he read in girlie magazines and encouraged his friends to play the field. Was that what this was about? The guys had ribbed Warrick about being “whupped” and now he was exerting his control and independence. As if I don’t have enough problems, she thought, annoyed. Now I have to contend with his pride and ego.
“Next you’ll be asking me to trade in my sports car for a minivan,” he said with a snort.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Gesturing with her hands around the artfully decorated living room, she glared at him. “You don’t expect to raise children here, do you? A penthouse isn’t a suitable place for kids, Warrick. Eventually, we’d have to move.”
For a long moment, he didn’t speak. “Let’s not argue. We had a great evening and—”
“Are we getting engaged this year or not?” she demanded, cutting him off. Refusing to be sucked in by the tender expression on his face and his dreamy voice, she pursed her lips together to keep from yelling at him. “I’m not issuing an ultimatum, or making demands. I just want to know the truth. Where is our relationship going?”
“Move in with me,” he proposed, leaning forward in his seat. “I love having you here, and we’re practically living together already.”
“You’ll live with me, but you won’t marry me.”
“I’m not pressuring you, Tangela. If you don’t want to move in, I can respect that.”
“And marriage?”
“Let’s give it some more time. We’ll discuss this again in a few weeks, I promise.” He shrugged. “For now, that’s the best I can do.”
“That’s the best you can do?” she parroted. “Warrick, this isn’t another one of your business deals. This is my life you’re talking about!”
Taken by surprise by her outburst, Warrick sat there quietly, watching her. Pride kept him rooted to his chair. He felt a mournful sinking in his heart as he watched the woman he loved. He wanted to go to her, wanted to comfort her, but he didn’t have the courage to admit that he was scared. Scared their marriage would fail, scared she’d walk out on him again. Tangela was his life, but he wasn’t going to propose because she’d ordered him to. He would do it his way, in his time. “I’m beat,” he began, trying to defuse the situation. “This weekend, when we have clearer heads and more time, we’ll discuss—”
“Why won’t you commit? Don’t you love me?”
“More than you will ever know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
After killing himself at the office for ten hours and spending the last three hours at the theater, he was in no mood to get into a verbal sparring match with her. “Tangela, let’s be real. You’re not ready to get married. You want to wear skimpy outfits, stay out all night with your friends and flirt with other guys.”
“I’m having fun, Warrick. I’m not going home with anybody or compromising myself, either.” Her voice faltered, but she recovered. “I know what this is about. You’re jealous. My life used to revolve around you and now I have hobbies and interests and you can’t handle it.”
He scratched his cheek. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it? Then why do you get angry every time I go dancing with my girlfriends? You don’t hear me complaining when you’re out with the guys.”
“That’s because you’re busy trying to make a love connection on those stupid dating Web sites.” It was a boneheaded thing to say, but Warrick didn’t realize his error until he saw her eyes fill with tears. Her bottom lip quivered, and when Tangela snatched up her jacket, he noticed her hands were shaking. “I…I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean it.”
Sniffling, she glanced frantically around the room. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I’m happy living with you without the permanency of marriage.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving before I say something I’ll regret.”
“It’s too late, Tangela. You already have.” Spotting her purse under the table, he picked it up and chucked it on the sofa. “Go ahead, run out of here like you always do.”
“I’m not a child, Warrick. I’m not going to stand here and let you berate me.”
Glaring at her, his heart beating out of
his chest, he rose to his feet. “Every time we argue, you run off to Sage’s house and blab about what I did wrong. You know how that makes me feel? Like a joke, that’s what.” Impenitent about his strong language, he continued. “You want a fifty-thousand-dollar wedding with all the fixings, but you won’t invest time into improving our relationship. It’s one day, Tangela. One day. What about the next thirty years? Are you prepared for the challenges and hardships that might come down the road? That’s what matters. Not, some overpriced designer gown.”
“Don’t you dare attack me for wanting to have a beautiful wedding!” Lips trembling, she wiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Finally! Finally, I have people in my life who truly care about me. People who have been there for me when I needed them most. I just want everyone I love to be there on my big day. What’s so wrong with that?”
Warrick watched her for a long moment. “How am I supposed to believe you’re in this for the long haul when you bail at the first sign of trouble?”
Her eyes iced over. This time around, she wasn’t going to break down or slink away in the middle of the night. She’d leave with her emotions in check, her head high and her pride intact. “Warrick, you’ll never have to worry about my commitment to this relationship, because I won’t be back.” Her vision hazy, she stumbled down the darkened hallway, threw open the front door and rushed into the waiting elevator.
Chapter Nineteen
The Boeing 747 was at its cruising altitude, and passengers were watching the romantic comedy playing on the overhead screens. In an hour, the plane would touch down in San Diego and Tangela would officially be off the clock. Back sore and muscles tight, she dropped onto a seat at the rear of the plane. Thankful for the darkness of the cabin, she stretched out tired legs, crossing them at the ankles.
In these quiet, uninterrupted moments, Tangela couldn’t help thinking about Warrick. Their ill-fated relationship hadn’t even lasted six months this time around. It was spring, her favorite time of the year, the time when Warrick usually surprised her with a romantic trip to a warm, exotic locale. A sharp, crippling pain racked her body as his words reverberated in her mind. How am I supposed to believe you’re in this for the long haul when you bail at the first sign of trouble?
Trying to channel her thoughts, Tangela searched the pocket of the seat in front of her for a magazine. Nothing but the flight-safety card. Her study notes were in the bottom of her tote bag, but she didn’t feel like reviewing the test questions anymore. Her interview was next week, but she’d been studying nonstop since applying for the Flight Operations position at the end of last month, and she desperately needed a break.
Tangela closed her eyes and tried to wipe out the memory of Warrick’s kiss from her mind. Shivering, her body breaking out into a cold sweat, she felt his moist lips and tongue gliding up and across the back of her neck. It was easier to pretend that Warrick hadn’t touched a piece of her soul than to admit she’d lost the only man she’d ever loved—again.
She was fast losing control; tears dribbled down her cheeks like the raindrops streaming down the side window. She’d gone into this relationship with her eyes wide open. Warrick didn’t force her into anything. She’d willingly given her heart to him, and although his rejection stung, she wouldn’t blame him. The news of Cashmere and Theo’s engagement, Mrs. Harris’s spiteful comments and her own insecurities had gotten the best of her and instead of taking a step back and assessing her true motives, she’d gone off half-cocked and demanded he marry her.
“This must be my lucky day,” a husky male voice said.
Opening her eyes, she shot bolt upright in her seat. Hoping the businessman didn’t see her tearstained cheeks, she wiped her face, then adjusted her uniform. “Mr. Kewasi? I didn’t know you were on this flight.”
“I came on late. I was held up at customs,” he explained, chuckling lightly. “I travel a lot for business, which always raises suspicion with security. How is Warrick doing?”
Tangela lowered her gaze to her hands. It had been twelve days since they’d broken up, but she hadn’t told anyone yet. Not even Sage. The less people who knew the better. And since it was easier to lie than tell Mr. Kewasi the truth she said, “He’s fine. Work’s been keeping him real busy.” She couldn’t resist saying, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but Warrick was really disappointed when you signed on with another firm. He was really looking forward to working with you on that condominium project.”
Mr. Kewasi leaned against the seat. “I was all set to sign with Maxim Designs and Architects, and then one of my business associates in New Orleans told me that Warrick employs second-tier construction companies.”
“That’s a lie,” she argued, shaking her head. “You know Warrick. He’s a meticulous, hardworking architect who expects excellence from all his employees and staff.”
“Yes, that’s the impression I had of him, too, but once I heard about his involvement in the Urban Development project and all of the complaints from unsatisfied home owners, I—”
“Complaints? What complaints?” The plane pitched to the right and Tangela gripped the headrest to keep from falling over. The seat-belt light popped on and the pilot’s soothing voice flowed over the intercom.
“We’re passing through some heavy wind,” First Officer Andrews explained. “We’re asking that everyone remain seated until the seat-belt light is turned off. Thank you.”
“I’d better use the lavatory before I get tossed to the floor!” Mr. Kewasi chuckled heartedly. “It was nice seeing you again, Tangela. Please give Warrick my best. I think he’s a fine young man who’s destined for greatness.”
He is great, isn’t he? she agreed, wishing things had turned out differently between them. Warrick was an accomplished businessman, too cute for words and had an amazing capacity to love. They wanted the same things out of life, so why had their relationship failed a second time?
Reflecting on what Mr. Kewasi had said earlier, Tangela wondered if Warrick knew the harm Lyndon had caused. He deserved to know what was being said about him. For a split second, she considered calling him. Before she could warm to the idea, reason kicked in. They were through. And though she longed to hear his voice, she couldn’t call him, no matter how much she was hurting inside.
“Tangela, quick! Turn on the TV!”
Crawling out from under her blanket, Tangela pressed the cordless phone to her ear and patted back a yawn. Sage had the day off work and had insisted they meet at the Rejuve Spa. “A girls’ day of pampering,” she’d announced when they’d spoken yesterday. “We’ll get beautiful, then have brunch at the House of Blues. It’s karaoke night!”
While Sage had jabbered on about her new pain-in-the-ass client, Tangela thought back to that chilly morning in November. The morning she and Warrick had gone to the gospel brunch. Could their date have been any better? They’d laughed, danced and sung along with the choir. Weeks later, she still remembered how nervous she’d felt when he’d taken her into his arms. God, he’d smelled good. A combination of patchouli, musk and grapefruit, a scent both soothing and invigorating. And a perfect depiction of Warrick James Carver.
Sage’s voice drew her attention back to the present. “Put it to channel eight. Hurry!”
Bending her arms like a pretzel, she swung her legs out in front of her, yawning as though she hadn’t slept in weeks. Her interview wasn’t until three o’clock, but it wouldn’t hurt to review her employee handbook again. “Sage, I don’t have time to watch Spotlight Tinseltown, and for the fifth time, I don’t care who George Clooney’s sleeping with.”
“This is serious, Tangela. A roof collapsed in New Orleans!”
Her tongue went numb.
“Warrick’s name has been all over the news. Apparently, Maxim Designs and Architects were hired to design the building four years ago and…”
Mouth dry, her heart racing with dread, she hit the power button on the remote. CNN was on commercial break, but the local news was ca
rrying the story of the horrific building collapse in New Orleans. Thirty-five people had been taken to hospital and half of the victims were small children. Live footage of the Truman Enterprises building was followed by video of Jacob Carver’s limousine speeding down the driveway of his lavish Seven Hills mansion.
“When did this happen?”
Sage relayed what she’d heard on Fox News. “Apparently members at Bethesda Gospel Tabernacle were getting their praise on when the ceiling started to crumble. Seconds later, larger, bigger pieces of concrete fell to the ground.” Her voice was laced with awe. “Talk about bringing the house down, huh?”
“It’s a wonder more people didn’t get hurt.”
“As you can expect, pandemonium broke out. Most of the injuries occurred as people raced to get out of the church, not from falling concrete.”
“I can’t believe this is happening.” Bethesda Gospel Tabernacle was a refuge for abused women and children and Tangela adored Reverend Massey and his kindhearted congregation.
“The investigation hasn’t even begun, but the media has already determined that Warrick and his father are to blame.”
“Warrick’s team designed the building, but they didn’t build it. Lyndon’s construction company did.”
“And everyone knows what a cheap bastard he is.”
“The Carver family has done exceptional work in New Orleans, but no one’s come forward to defend them. It’s awful. They’ve pumped more money into the Lower Ninth Ward than any other company and even—”
Tangela jumped up. She had to do something. Warrick wasn’t to blame for the building collapse. They weren’t a couple anymore and they hadn’t spoken since their breakup, but she couldn’t sit back and let reporters drag his family’s good name through the mud.
Pulling on a white V-neck sweater and jeans, Tangela glanced around the bedroom for her keys. She knew the truth and it was up to her to make the world listen. Warrick and his dad cared about those families and she’d sooner die than stand back and let the media crucify him.