by Tia Sirrah
∞∞∞
WE LAY ON OUR backs while catching our breath. The heat from the fireplace warmed our nude bodies, and Quentin found a thick cushioned blanket for us to lay on. I stared up at the ceiling, completely stunned. "Holy shit," I said, still gasping for air. "I forgot how good you were at that."
"I forgot how fucking sweet you taste."
"You should write a pussy eating manual. Seriously. I know someone in publishing who can make that happen." We both cracked up laughing until our sides hurt. "I'm kidding. But for real, were you a lesbian in your former life?" That got us laughing even harder, and I snorted, causing me to immediately cover my face with my hands, in embarrassment, when another unwelcomed snort escaped.
"You're so cute," he teased, nuzzling his mouth into my neck.
"Don't tease my snort. You know I can't help it."
"I love your snort. I love everything about you."
I buried my fingers in his hair. "I've missed this, Q."
"I've missed you calling me that," he said, before rolling on top of me.
"I've missed you calling me your princess." I looked up at his gorgeous face, and my heart did a little dance. "I've missed feeling whole."
"I've missed feeling. Period."
I trailed my fingernails along the additional scar on his chest. "When did you do this?" I asked with concern in my eyes.
He blinked down at me and gave a sad smile. "The day you left the beach house."
"Any more scars?"
He shook his head. "I was in a bad place for a while. But that was the only other time I self-inflicted pain."
I furrowed my brow as I ran my nails along the light stubble on his jaw.
"I'm okay. Really. I was young and reckless. I know how destructive and dangerous that behavior was. I just wanted to feel something other than the pain I felt when I gave you up. But over the years, I've been content with not feeling anything at all. Until now." Quentin angled his face into my touch and kissed the palm of my hand. "I love you, Princess. You have my heart. The whole fucking thing."
"I love you too. You've always had mine, and you always will."
We kissed. It felt like a first kiss, and a last kiss wrapped up in one. And it felt like a promise of more kisses to come. But it also felt like a kiss of betrayal, since there was still something I was keeping from him. I planted light kisses along his throat, before trailing my tongue up to his mouth. When our mouths connected again, he rolled over with me in his arms, allowing me to straddle him on top.
"You're it for me," he said, as he tucked a few locs behind my ears.
"And you're it for me."
He let out a sigh, before wrapping his arms tightly around me and nuzzling my head to his chest.
We stayed like that until we fell asleep.
Chapter 28
FATIMA
"I HAVE TO TELL Quentin about us. About what we did."
Hunter leaned back against the railing of his houseboat, with his hands in his pockets. "You think that's a good idea?"
I stood beside Hunter, facing the opposite direction, admiring the other equally luxurious houseboats around. He squinted his eyes from the blinding sunlight as he looked down at me, and I looked up at him. "I can't lie to him."
"I know," he sighed. Hunter turned around, and we stared out at the sea together. "Let me tell him."
I shook my head. "It has to come from me."
"Blame it all on me. Tell him you were drunk, and I seduced you."
"You know that's not true."
Hunter's sky blue eyes met mine before he swept his eyes over my face. "This is happening, huh? You and him?"
"It is. I really love him." A silly grin spread across my face, as it did every time I thought about my future with Quentin.
"Can't say that I'm surprised."
"Really?" I propped a shoulder against the railing and faced him.
He shrugged a shoulder. "He loves you. Always has. It was only a matter of time. That's why it was wrong of me to—"
"Don't do that. I can't let you take the blame for what happened. There were two willing parties in my bed." There was an uncomfortable tension between us. One that didn't use to be there before we slept together. I cleared my throat and wrapped my arms around myself as a sudden chill from the air sent a shiver through me.
"Are you cold?" Hunter rubbed my shoulders and arms with his hands. "You wanna go inside?"
"No. I'm okay." I smiled at up at him. His eyes flitted to my lips. I looked away. "I'm going to tell Quentin tomorrow." I took a moment before voicing my greatest fear. "What if he leaves me again?"
"He's not going to leave you."
"I can't lose him. Not again. I love him."
"You already said that."
I was taken aback by the slight bite in his tone. "Yeah, well..." I cleared my throat again, and he dropped his hands from my arms. "I, umm, better get going."
"Sure. I've got some things to do anyway. So…"
"So…I'll see myself off." I reluctantly leaned in for a hug, which Hunter did not reciprocate. "Goodbye, Hunter."
I hurried across the boat towards the dock. Hunter caught up with me with long strides and took my hand. "I'm sorry."
I allowed Hunter to stop me, and I turned to face him with a brave smile on my face. "It's okay. Me too." Tears pricked at my eyes as I looked up at him. His silky raven hair blew carelessly in the wind, and his blue eyes sparkled like glass.
Hunter hesitantly pulled me into an embrace. "Goodbye, Fatima."
I relaxed into him. I leaned my head against his chest and wrapped my arms around him for the last time. "Do you think you guys will be okay?"
"Don't hold your breath on that one," he joked.
My eyes began to water, and I squeezed them shut. "Fuck."
Hunter cupped the side of my jaw with his hand and angled my face up to his. "It's alright. Quentin and I will…settle things."
"Settle things? What does that mean?" I was mortified. "You're not talking about fighting, right?"
"It wouldn't be the first time," he chuckled as if that were remotely funny. "Don't worry about us. Focus on you and Quentin."
"If there's still a 'me and Quentin' when it's all said and done." I shook my head and took a shaky breath. "I hope you two can remain friends. No matter what happens with Quentin and me."
"Maybe, maybe not. It's rather difficult for us to remain friends when I'm in love with his girl."
The air left my lungs in an instant. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't talk. Couldn't move—until I realized I was still in Hunter's arms. I backed up from his embrace and shook my head vehemently. "Don't say that. Please."
Hunter let out a humorless chuckle and shoved a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry if that makes you uncomfortable. I know that's the last thing you want to hear."
"Quentin's one of your best friends. And I—I'm nobody."
"You're everything." He clarified as he took a step closer. "I've loved you since the first time I saw you in Mrs. Kessler's English class, freshman year. But like Quentin, I was too self-absorbed to make a move." He clasped my jaw with both hands. "I thought you'd always be there, once I was done fucking around. But he beat me to it."
"Hunter." I placed my hands over his. "You're a great guy. Perfect, even. But it's always been Quentin."
He let out a frustrated and defeated sigh before our foreheads met. "I know."
"I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. You two were made for each other." The pads of his thumbs caressed my cheeks, and my arms found themselves around his waist.
This was goodbye. We did this. We ruined any possibility of us ever being friends, the moment we kissed in the back of that cab. "Take care of yourself, Hunter." I pressed my lips to his for one last kiss, before turning and walking away.
"You too," I heard him say as I stepped out of his houseboat and onto the dock.
Chapter 29
FATIMA
QUENTIN AND I AGREED to meet after his trial. Af
ter talking to Hunter the day before, I couldn't let another day go by without telling Quentin what happened between us. My nerves were wrecked, and I barely slept a wink due to over analyzing different scenarios on how Quentin would react. The pep talk I gave myself as I drove to Discovery Park didn't help one bit. And as soon as Quentin and I were together, my courage was nonexistent.
Quentin laced his fingers through mine as we walked down the Brown Foundation Promenade, across the limestone path. Despite the chill in the air, it was a beautiful day. 100-year-old oak trees shaded us from the bright sun.
"Have you decided whether or not you're going to sale the beach house?"
"I've decided to keep it. It'll be a nice getaway for us, especially during the summers."
I hadn't gone to the beach house since we were teenagers. "I remember that place having the most amazing views," I said dreamily. "Your work commute must have been brutal, though."
"About an hour and a half, maybe two. Depending on traffic."
My eyes widened. "Wow. I don't have the patience. But then again, if I had your Ranger Rover Autobiography, I wouldn't complain. A 5L Supercharged V8 with 510 horsepower? Yeah, I don't feel bad for you. Not one stinkin' bit," I teased, as I fake-glowered at him.
"I'm not complaining, but it's nice to be downtown now."
We both chuckled, but it soon died down, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake. Something was off between us, and I briefly wondered if Hunter had beat me to it and talked to Quentin. Or maybe someone saw me on Hunter's houseboat the other day and told Quentin. I quickly dismissed my speculations. Quentin didn't seem angry. He appeared anxious, like me.
I was driving myself crazy with fear, so I decided to spit it out. "I have to—"
"There's something—."
We began speaking at the same time.
"I'm sorry. You go first," Quentin said.
"No, it's okay. You go." Please. I needed more time to get my nerves together.
"Maybe we should sit," he said, gesturing to a nearby park bench. The somber expression on his face had me freaking out a little. And I suddenly knew that he was about to tell me his secret.
"What's wrong?" I sat down and looked up at him expectantly.
Quentin sat down beside me. "There's something I have to tell you."
"Okay." I folded my hands in my lap to keep them from shaking. This was bad. Really bad. I could feel it.
Quentin leaned forward, lacing his hands behind his head, as if stilling his nerves or summoning courage from within, before repositioning upright and turning to face me. "It's about your mother."
That was unexpected. "What about her?"
"What do you know about the robbery?"
I swallowed. "Umm, okay. Well, my dad and I only talked about the details once when I was thirteen. He told me that she'd been killed on the side of Thompson Road. She most likely pulled over due to a flat tire. I assume she was on her way to see your dad because she had just left our house with her suitcase after telling my dad she was leaving him. The detectives on the case believed that her killer robbed her at gunpoint before shooting her to death." I paused; the next details were harder to say out loud. "Once in the head and once in the stomach."
Quentin scrubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. The things he told me next turned my entire world upside down.
∞∞∞
"BREATHE, FATIMA." QUENTIN PLACED his hand on the back of my neck and forcefully lowered my head down to my lap. My pants were coming faster, and it felt like I was having a heart attack. Clasping my mother's ring tightly to my chest, I desperately tried to steady my breathing and focus on Quentin's voice.
"Oh, God." A sob escaped my throat. I buried my face in the palms of my hands and let the tears spill out.
"Baby, I'm so sorry." Quentin's voice was strained and desperate.
"Why?" I croaked. "Tell me why!" I pleaded.
"My grandfather knew about the affair and had offered your mother three million dollars to leave my father. She refused the money and told my father what happened. He was furious and had it out with his old man, telling him that Faye was pregnant with his child and that they were going to run away together. That's when my grandfather decided to take matters into his own hands and…" Quentin scrubbed a hand over his face. "My grandfather was a very powerful, vicious man with a lot of connections."
"How long have you known this?"
Quentin looked grim. "My father told me after your graduation party before I met you at the beach house."
It all made sense now. "You've known for almost ten years? How could you keep something like this from me?"
"I should have told you. I know. It was fucked up."
"You damn right, it's fucked up! Why didn’t you tell me? Was it to protect your grandfather's legacy? So that no one would know that he was a monster?" I was shouting now, as angry tears drenched my face.
"What? No!" Quentin rose from the bench and crouched down in front of me, taking my hands in his. "I wasn't protecting him. I thought I was protecting you. I didn't want to hurt you like that. But I'm telling you now because we can't go any further until you know the truth. And I want us to go all the way. Marriage, kids—the whole nine. I'm telling you now because I'm honoring the blood oath we made under that old tree when we were fourteen years old. We promised that we wouldn't keep secrets from eachother—no matter what. And I broke that promise. But I swear to you, I’m never going to break that promise again."
I emptied myself with cries. My mama was gone, and his family was to blame. I was angry, stunned, and completely shattered. I sobbed uncontrollably as Quentin uttered apologies and pleas while kissing my hands and wiping my tears. And without any warning, Quentin stood to his feet and scooped me up in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Princess. I'm so fucking sorry," he kept saying over and over as he held me tight in his arms.
"Is she okay?" I heard someone ask.
"She'll be fine," Quentin bit out as he carried me down the promenade.
I sobbed into the crook of his neck, like a helpless, weak woman. This wasn't fair. My mom didn't deserve to die, and neither did her unborn child. One that Quentin and I shared by blood. "This will break my dad all over again."
Quentin stopped in his tracks. I lifted my head and realized we were at his car. "I'll talk to him," he offered.
"No. And put me down, please." He reluctantly obliged and set me to my feet. It was all sinking in, layer by layer. The man I loved was the offspring of vile, despicable men. Men who had destroyed my family. "Are you sure your father didn't have anything to do with this?"
"I'm sure. My father loved Faye. He sacrificed everything to be with her."
"How do you know he's not lying to you?" I quipped. I searched my purse with trembling hands for my keys.
Quentin winced and hesitated before saying, "I trust my father." That sent a thousand knives through my chest. And there it was, folks. The line had been drawn in the sand, and unfortunately, fatefully, tragically, we were on two different sides.
I dropped my keys, and we knelt at the same time to pick them up. Quentin grabbed them first, and our eyes met as we both crouched close to the ground. "I see," I answered coldly, before snatching my keys from his hand. Standing to my feet, I watched as Quentin's eyes slid shut as if he were in physical pain, before rising to his feet. I could feel him beckoning me to look at him, as I avoided eye contact. "I gotta get out of here," I said, turning to walk away.
"Wait." There was a frantic plea in Quentin's voice as he grabbed me by the arm. He knew, like I knew, that this was over.
"Let me go. Please," I pleaded through fresh tears before finally looking up at him.
His nostrils flared, and his eyes shone brightly. He looked tortured and anxious, and his grip tightened around my arm, causing me to pull away forcefully. "Please, Princess. You're —"
"Don't call me that. Not now." I was on the verge of falling apart—nearly a second away from crumbling.
"You're in n
o condition to drive. Let me take you home."
"I need time to process all of this. Without you. I'm sorry."
Quentin looked down at his feet and nodded. "Okay," he finally said before pulling me close to him and crushing my body to his. He nearly suffocated me with his hug.
"Damn it, Q." I cried against his chest. I cried for my mama. I cried for my dad. I cried for me. I cried for us.
Minutes passed before he slowly released his hold on me. "I'm going to check on you soon. Okay?"
"I'll call you."
"I love you."
I wiped my tears from my eyes. "Bye, Quentin."
I turned and walked away, leaving him behind.
Chapter 30
FATIMA
MY DAD KNEW ALL along that foul play was involved. Though it further explained his apprehension over my relationship with Quentin, it perplexed me that he didn't try to seek justice for my mother's death.
"What else did Quentin tell you?" my dad asked. I'd just finished relaying what Quentin had told me earlier that evening.
"What do you mean, what else?" There was silence on the other end of my phone. "Dad," I warned. "You've kept enough secrets from me, don’t you think? Just tell me. What are you talking about?"
"We discussed some things at your graduation party, and I said some things out of anger about your mother."
"What things?"
"He didn't tell you anything about our conversation?"
"Jesus, dad. No." My frustration was growing by the second. Laying back on my bed, I pressed my palm to my forehead. "Wait. Did you two talk about what happened to her?"
"No, Babygirl. Not exactly. But I made some comments about his father being responsible. I could tell he had no idea what I was talking about." I groaned in agony. "Babygirl, I've never had anything against Quentin, personally. But I don't trust his family because of what happened to your mother. They're dangerous."
"I know, dad. But Quentin's not like that."
"There is no way you can be in a relationship with this man. Especially now that you know what his father did."