Then Sings My Soul (The Langston Family Saga Book 2)

by LaShonda Bowman

  And if that weren't enough, Brock never showed up to the negotiations they were scheduled to have with a prospective buyer.

  Not that Omar was surprised. Brock hadn't shown up to work for days. He tried calling him several times. First, to find out what caused the blowup at the house. Then later, because he’d become worried. Brock’s voice mailbox eventually became full and the two times Omar drove to his house, he wasn't there. To say Omar was concerned would be an understatement.

  With Brock's history of alcoholism, Omar’s mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. He had to keep reminding himself that Brock had been sober for close to six years. Still, Omar couldn’t help but wonder whether what happened with Marisa was enough to cause a relapse.

  Omar exhaled.

  More than anything, the Brock and Marisa incident had him stumped. They’d never been fans of one another, but a physical altercation? Even years of their shared animosity hadn’t prepared him for that. And as much as Marisa hated Brock, Omar couldn’t understand why she hadn’t filed charges. She’d never been one to pass up an opportunity for retribution. Especially when, for once, she was in the right.

  He’d spent more than one sleepless night trying to figure it out.

  Finally, he decided to just give it to God. As much as he loved Brock like a brother, he had more pressing things to attend to. He had not one, but two children to parent now. And nothing, including Brock and Marisa’s inexplicable drama, was getting in the way of that.

  Once traffic began flowing, Omar looked at the clock again and took a deep breath. He'd have to get home and change his clothes like his name was Clark Kent, but there was still time to make it.

  Despite the problems at work, all he could think about the entire day was meeting Xavier. They’d talked on the phone a few times, but seeing him face to face was something else altogether. Omar wanted to touch him and see him laugh. He wanted to know every detail of his life. His likes and dislikes, hopes and dreams. He wanted to do and say and know so much, he had to keep reminding himself not to overwhelm the boy at their first meeting.

  Then there was Kristina.

  He couldn't help but hope she'd be there, too. His heart skipped at the thought of it. But he understood she had a lot on her plate. And he'd already decided that if she wasn't ready to start anything with him, he would back away.

  Not go away, but back away.

  He made the mistake of giving up on his feelings for her once and ended up in a marriage doomed from the start. He wasn't going to make that mistake again. Since he was seventeen, he'd only ever loved one woman. Then, he’d waited two decades before he even spoke to her again. Now, if he needed to, he'd wait another six just to convince her she was the love of his life.

  Omar pulled up to his house with that very thought on his mind, when he saw something completely unexpected.

  Brock's car in his driveway.

  Chapter 13

  No sooner than Omar got out of his Rover, Brock opened his car door and did the same.

  As Omar walked up to him, his heart sank.

  Brock was disheveled and his eyes had the glassy, unfocused look they always got when he’d gone on a bender.

  "We need to talk." Brock stumbled as he tried to approach Omar. If it weren’t for the bumper of his own vehicle, he would’ve been facedown on the in-laid brick of the driveway.

  "Oh, now we need to talk? Because I've been calling you for days with no answer. Not to mention you not showing up to the office. Not cool, man.”

  "I know, I know. I'm sorry. But—“

  Omar waved his hand and continued on to his front door. "We're definitely going to hash this out." He unlocked the door and stepped inside. Brock followed close behind. "You and Marisa don't get to come into my house and act like that and not explain yourselves. But now is not the time. I have somewhere to be."

  "This can't wait, Omar. Marisa's done mess you don't know nothing about."

  Omar exhaled and loosened his tie. “Not my problem, man. Not anymore. That’s why it’s called divorce.” He continued to the downstairs bathroom where he’d left his change of clothes that morning. “Whatever’s going on between the two of you is just that—between the two of you.”

  “It’s Chloe.”

  Omar stopped and stood stone still at Brock's words. He had an idea of what Brock was going to say, but he didn't want to hear it. More than once, he’d had doubts about his daughter's paternity, but by then, he'd already fallen for his little girl.

  Omar chewed at his bottom lip. He wasn’t stupid. And he wasn’t blind. But when he’d held that newborn in his arms, he promised he’d be a father that never left. And it was a promise that even DNA wouldn’t break. Besides, he never knew for sure one way or the other. He didn’t want to.

  "Trust me, Brock. I know my ex-wife. Whatever you have to say about her, I've already figured out. More than once."

  Omar took off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Brock stood in the doorway, only upright because he was supported by the door frame. There was no way Omar could let him drive home in his condition.

  "Look, man. You can stay here and sleep it off until I get back. And then we’re going to talk about this. All of it. Including you not showing up to a negotiation that meant millions to our company."

  Brock came in, dropped down on the edge of the tub and buried his face in his hands. Omar couldn't help but feel bad for him. He’d be there for him like he always was, but right now, it was more important that he was there for his son.

  “It’s so messed up, man.”

  "Just take it easy. It's gonna be okay. You're going to get through this."

  Brock looked up at him, his eyes red and watery. “But, Chloe… She’ll use it to take her away from you.“

  Omar stopped and looked at Brock’s distraught expression in the mirror’s reflection. Now it all made sense. The confrontation with Marisa and the repercussions it would have on Chloe and Omar was what put Brock over the edge.

  Omar buttoned up his shirt and put on his jacket. "Don't worry about Chloe. She's my daughter and I'll take care of her. Marisa will never be able to stop me from doing that."

  Omar turned and started for the door.

  Brock struggled to stand and follow Omar. “But that’s the thing. Chloe's not your daughter. She's mine."

  When Xavier stole another glance at his watch, he tried to be subtle so Kristina wouldn't notice. He didn’t succeed.

  "You don't think there was an accident or something, do you?"

  It had been like this for the past hour. About every ten minutes, she’d come up with another reason for Omar not being there.

  First, it was that he was probably running late at work. Then it was traffic. Then she wondered if he’d had car trouble. Next, she thought maybe he’d forgotten. After that she wondered if any roads had been closed. And now it was an accident.

  Anything but the one option she didn't want to consider: that Omar had second thoughts and changed his mind.

  Xavier took out his phone and dialed Omar's number for the eighth time that evening. And for the eighth time, Kristina watched him expectantly. But when he put his phone down, a grim expression on his face, she knew what it meant. He’d gotten Omar’s voice mail. Again.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't like to enjoy an appetizer while you wait?"

  It was the same server that had introduced himself when they were seated. She could tell the guy was trying to pretend he didn't notice they’d been stood up.

  Kristina gave him a weak smile and shook her head no. He nodded and refilled her glass of ice water. A few moments later, he brought another saucer of freshly cut lemons.

  "Maybe we should tell her to call the local hospitals. You know, see if he's been brought in."

  The “she” Kristina referred to was Tamia, who’d been calling Omar's office and house phone while Xavier called his cell.

  Kristina attempted to keep her voice steady and without emotion. When a tear escaped her eye, she gr
abbed her napkin from the table and turned to the side to dab at her cheek, not wanting Xavier to see.

  She was so angry at herself. How many times had she told Xavier and Pam and anyone else who would listen that this was more about Xavier than it was about her? And yet, here she was about to fall apart over being stood up. And at a dinner she wasn't even supposed to be at, no less.

  The last thing she wanted was for Xavier to see her break down. From the moment she realized that he existed, she felt like she’d been a disappointment to him. Yes, she had platinum records and Grammys and film awards, but all she could see when she looked in the mirror was the cocaine and the alcohol and the promiscuous behavior. She’d spent most of her life being a wreck, but the only people that knew how bad it was were her sisters. She wanted to keep it that way.

  She’d done her best over the past few months to turn her life around, naturally and spiritually, and she felt like she was making some headway.

  But now, instead of being the alcoholic crackhead, she was the desperate and pathetic woman, brokenhearted over a lost love. And she could tell by the way Xavier was looking at her that he felt sorry for her. That wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to take care of him, not the other way around.

  Xavier cleared his throat. "Maybe we should just go."

  It wasn't the first time he’d made the suggestion. But Kristina couldn't stop watching the door.

  "Just ten more minutes…"

  Chapter 14

  Omar felt like his mind had shut down.

  He tried concentrating on what Brock was saying, but he might as well have been speaking a foreign language. The words didn’t make sense, no matter how hard Omar tried to understand them. The phone on the side table, ringing and ringing and ringing, didn’t make it any better.

  "It wasn't like I had intentionally gone behind your back. I mean, you know how it's always been with me and Marisa. We can't stand each other. But Janae had just left me. I was so messed up, I ended up in a bar. That one we used to go to just off-base. Marisa was there. And that night…” Brock clenched his jaw and rubbed his hands over his head.

  Omar's head was swimming. He tried to steady it by leaning over and putting his face in his hands. The phone started ringing again.

  "She was a mess. She said she knew you were going to finally leave her once you got back from Turkey. That you had all but said it. She was crying and we were drinking. And I don't know… It just happened.”

  Brock paced back and forth in front of Omar. When the phone finally stopped ringing, Omar took a breath. He felt like he was going crazy.

  "I hated myself. And I planned telling you the minute you returned. But on your way back, during that stopover in New York, you called and said you two were going to split. You said you were telling her that night, when you got home. So I…" Brock shrugged. "I thought maybe I wouldn't have to tell you. I know it was wrong. I should've said something. But I couldn't. And then you guys ended up staying together."

  Omar had intended on leaving her. That was the plan. But when he got home, Marisa was like he’d never seen her. She was begging him for one last try and told him about how she’d loved him from the moment they’d met but felt like he never really loved her back. She asked him how he could end their marriage when he’d never even given it a chance. She asked, no, pleaded for just one thing. A six-month trial. One in which he’d actually try to be a husband to her and love her as much as she loved him.

  Maybe it wasn't a good idea. But he couldn't deny that she was telling the truth. If he’d ever had one major regret in his life other than Kristina, it was that he’d married Marisa when he knew good and well he wasn't in love with her. And she was right about him not trying. He had to take responsibility for that much. Instead of trying to make the marriage work, he went on deployment every chance he got. Because of that, he decided he’d give it his all for six months. In an effort to renew their commitment, they slept together that night. It was something that hadn't happened for the entire year prior. So when she told him she was pregnant a few weeks later, he had no reason to think the baby wasn’t his.

  But even later, when he began having his suspicions, he never guessed it was Brock.

  Never.

  “…and when I brought it up, she laid into me. She kept saying things like, ‘You were a crap son, a crap husband, and a crap best friend. Three guesses what kind of father you'd make’. She said you were the best thing that could’ve happened to Chloe and did I really want to take that away from her? She was right. I would be ruining both your lives. I knew that. And that's the only reason I kept quiet."

  "I need you to leave right now."

  Brock stopped pacing and looked at Omar. "Look, I can imagine how you’re feeling. You hate me. I don’t blame you. I hate myself. But I'm telling you the truth. I wasn't out to betray you. I know you’re the best thing that happened to Chloe because you're the best thing that happened to me. And maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but when Marisa told you that you couldn't take Chloe with you, I just snapped."

  Omar looked up at Brock, his eyes narrow and dark. "I asked you to leave."

  "But I—“

  The phone started ringing again and it was the last straw. Omar reached over and yanked it so hard, the cord ripped out of the wall. He threw the phone in Brock's direction with a force powered by the rage he could feel rising from the pit of his stomach.

  "Get out!"

  Brock opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He backed away and then left.

  Omar rubbed the back of his head with his hands. Christian or not, he wanted to break every bone in Brock's body. But that wasn't what mattered. The only thing that mattered was Chloe.

  He couldn't stop thinking about her. The way she poked out her little lips to give him a kiss every time she saw him. The way her long eyelashes shadowed her cheeks when she slept. The way she still snuggled in his arms to watch cartoons.

  How could she not be his daughter?

  But that was only one of the questions on his mind. Could Brock being her biological father affect his rights? He remembered the threats Marisa made. He glanced at his watch. He needed to call his lawyer. At the very least, leave him a message to let him know he would be waiting in his parking lot first thing in the morning.

  He reached for the phone and in a split second realized what a bad idea yanking it out of the wall had been. He got up and ran to the entryway table, where he’d left his cell phone and keys.

  He picked up his phone and when the screen lit up, he paused. Nine missed calls.

  Nine missed calls? What in the world could have—

  The dinner.

  Omar resisted the urge to send his phone flying across the room. It’d been on silent since the last meeting for negotiations. He hadn't thought to turn the volume back on. He tried calling Kristina but got no answer. He thought about leaving a message but it didn't seem right.

  Within minutes, he was out the front door and in his car. But by the time he arrived at the restaurant, Kristina and Xavier were long gone.

  Pam went into the kitchen the next morning, ready to go over the day’s itinerary with Kristina. But instead of her sister, she found her nephew at the breakfast nook, reading his devotional and eating cereal.

  "Well, good morning!"

  Xavier looked up from his Bible. He smiled, but she couldn't help but notice how distracted he looked.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt your devotion time. I'll be quick and quiet. I promise." She reached in the cabinet and pulled out a coffee mug.

  "Oh, no. It's okay."

  Pam put her mug in the pod coffee maker, inserted the pod and added water. As it began to percolate, she leaned over on the granite countertop of the kitchen island. "So, how did last night go?"

  Xavier's eyebrows furrowed. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped when Kristina came in. She walked over to Xavier and kissed him on the forehead. Then she turned to Pam.

  "What time is
the crew arriving?"

  Pam glanced at the kitchen clock. “In about an hour and a half."

  Kristina nodded and headed to the counter toward the coffee machine, just as it finished Pam's cup.

  "You can take that one if you want. I can make another."

  "Thanks." Kristina took the coffee, adding nothing, and went back upstairs.

  Pam repeated the process and once the coffee machine started working, she went to the breakfast nook and sat across from Xavier.

  "What happened?" Pam kept her voice low in case Kristina returned.

  “He didn't show."

  Pam’s face fell and she slid down in her seat.

  "To be fair, he had a good reason. But still…" Xavier pushed his spoon around in his cereal. "I can understand now why you were reluctant. You should've seen her last night. She was trying so hard not to cry. The only reason we waited as long as we did was because she didn't want to leave."

  “What do you mean, he had a good reason?”

  "He finally called late last night. I don’t know all the details, but some pretty intense stuff went down having to do with his daughter and his ex-wife. It's bad enough he thinks he's gonna have to fight her for custody."

  Pam raised her eyebrows. “Wow. I didn't even know he had a daughter. Or an ex-wife, for that matter."

  "Yeah, it's pretty complicated. Complicated enough that I told him I think we should wait on this whole reunion thing."

  "Really? It's that bad?"

  Xavier shrugged. "I just keep thinking about what you said about sobriety and it being a fragile thing." He glanced at the staircase up to the second floor. "I don't think he'd ever intentionally hurt Kristina, but with this custody thing, I don't know if it's the best time for any of us to be around each other. His ex doesn't even want his daughter to meet me."