The Complication

by Nia Arthurs

  New voices spoke.

  “Did you hear about Imani’s wedding?”

  “Yes,” the other replied. “I hear the fiancé guy’s still missing.”

  “I can’t stand people like her. I almost hope they don’t find him so she can get dragged to jail.”

  I covered my mouth in horror.

  “I hope she gets run over. Women like her should just die. They give us all a bad name.”

  “Poor guy. What was his name again? Amir? He was so cute too. He could have done better.”

  Murmurs of agreement followed.

  I swayed and clamped my hand against the side of the stall to keep from falling. My palm made a loud noise as it thumped the wall.

  “Is someone in here?” one of the women asked.

  I kept quiet, struggling to remain upright. My head was swimming.

  “Let’s go.”

  I heard the door swing as they all filed out.

  My stomach roiling, I remained in the bathroom for another ten minutes before stumbling out.

  As I moved down the hallway, everyone kept staring at me. I made it to my cubicle and tried to keep a straight face, but all I wanted to do was put my head on the desk.

  Around lunch, I went outside to escape the tenseness of the office and hid out at a hole-in-the-wall diner for an hour. When I returned, there were two police officers standing in the lobby.

  Before they’d even spoken a word, I knew they were there for me.

  I was paraded into the conference room, flanked on either side by the officers. Once again, my co-workers gawked at me, their eyes hurling accusations even though their mouths were silent. I felt like a condemned woman heading to the guillotine.

  The policemen held the door open for me and ushered me inside. To be honest, I didn’t remember much of the ‘interview’. The officers were polite. They asked questions about my relationship with Amir, the wedding, his friends and where I thought he would go.

  I told them everything.

  By the time the interview was over, I felt raw, exhausted and guilty. So guilty. It was going on three days since Amir disappeared and the more time that passed, the more I feared he wouldn’t be found alive.

  The police officers left and I returned to my desk.

  The office was so quiet, a pin could drop and it’d be louder than a scream. Not even the usual hum of the copy machine or the telephone ringing disrupted the silence.

  Everywhere I looked, I saw hostile faces and pointed fingers.

  Slut.

  Heartbreaker.

  Whore.

  Murderer.

  The labels hovered over my shoulders, shuttling out of the gazes that flickered to my desk and back. Choking, I jumped up. Every eye followed my movement.

  Clinging to composure by my fingernails, I strode briskly to the exits. I needed to get out of here. I couldn’t take this.

  “Imani!”

  “What?” I yelled, swerving around and glaring at Jasmine, the receptionist.

  She pointed awkwardly. “Something came for you.”

  I glanced to the side and saw a deliveryman waiting in the lobby. He walked toward me. “Are you Imani Davis?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is for you.” He handed over a single rose. “Here you go.”

  Stunned, I took it. My fingers shook. Was it poisoned?

  Jasmine stared curiously at me.

  I turned my back to her and checked the flower over. It was beautiful, delicate. The thorns had been cut so the stem didn’t hurt my fingers. I noticed a tag hanging from it and read the words.

  ‘You are brave.’

  I recognized Elliot’s handwriting.

  “Imani?” Jasmine’s voice was hesitant. “Are you going home?”

  I stared at the message and then at the door. “No.”

  She smiled.

  I went back inside, finished my hours and headed home where I crashed again and slept all night.

  The next day, I went to work. The deliveryman was waiting for me in the lobby. He handed over another flower. I blinked in shock and accepted it from him. Lifting it to my nose, I inhaled deeply, enjoying the sweet fragrance.

  Next, I glanced at the tag.

  ‘You are kind.’

  Another came for me at lunch. Just a single flower with a note.

  ‘You are loving.’

  Minutes before work ended, I got another flower.

  ‘You are priceless.’

  I put the flowers on a vase on my desk and glanced at them frequently. The words of affirmation resonated with me, especially when—everywhere else in the office—I received no such encouragement.

  Elliot.

  Was this his idea of pursuing me?

  I cracked a smile. It wasn’t half-bad.

  That night, I went to Portia’s apartment, expecting Elliot to call.

  He didn’t contact me.

  I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. In a sense, I was the one who’d told him to leave me alone, but I missed him.

  A lot.

  Should I reach out first? But wouldn’t that just be chasing after him again?

  “Stop sighing and just call,” Portia said suddenly.

  I tore my gaze away from the TV and stammered. “What?”

  “I’m trying to watch my favorite show and you’re ruining it with your lovesickness. Just call him.”

  I inhaled deeply and nodded. “Yeah. I should, right? Just to thank him for the flowers.”

  “Whatever excuse works for you.”

  I grinned and lifted my phone to dial when the screen lit up with an incoming call. My jaw fell.

  Portia saw my expression and laughed. “It’s Elliot, isn’t it?”

  “No.” I swallowed painfully. “It’s Amir.”

  Chapter 31

  IMANI

  Portia shot to her feet and jumped up and down, hissing, “Answer.”

  I nodded and picked up. “Hello?”

  “Imani.”

  Amir’s voice. He was alive.

  Relieved tears pooled in my eyes and I shrieked, “Thank God you’re okay. Do you know how freaked out everyone was after you disappeared? Have you called your mother?”

  “Yeah, I spoke to her.”

  I rubbed my forehead. “Good.”

  Silence.

  I swallowed the guilty lump in my throat. “Are… you okay?”

  He took a while to answer. “Not really.”

  I glanced at the clock.

  Ten p.m.

  “Where are you?” I swung my legs out of bed. Portia’s laser gaze dug into my back, but I ignored her and fiddled for my car keys.

  “It’s fine, Imani. You don’t have to see me.”

  “I need to check that you’re okay with my own eyes.” I pulled on a hoodie and placed the phone between my cheek and shoulder blade so I could zip it up. “Where are you?”

  “Home.”

  “I’m coming over.”

  “I’ll meet you at our park in ten minutes. That’ll work better.”

  I paused. Our park. It was the place where we had our first date. Where Amir proposed.

  “Imani?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you then.” I hung up. When I turned, Portia stood right behind me, her bright eyes causing me to smile. “What are you doing?”

  “Was it really him?”

  “Yes.” I strode past her and searched for my flip-flops.

  “Thank God.” Portia fell into the couch and clutched her chest. “Thank God.”

  Ditto, sister.

  “I need to see him now.” I stuffed my toes into my slippers and wiggled them.

  “Should I come with you?”

  “No, I’ll go alone.”

  “Okay.” Portia nodded.

  On the way to the park, my legs thumped against the floor mat. I dug my fingers into the steering wheel and tried to figure out what I’d say, if there was more I could say.

  I don’t want to hurt him even more than I already have.


  When I parked the car, I undid my seatbelt and took a few calming breaths. “All that matters is Amir’s safety. Everything’s going to be okay now.”

  I climbed out and started walking.

  Amir was waiting near the park bench where he’d proposed. The wind blew his long-sleeved white shirt and black jeans. He looked gaunt, but at least he was alive.

  I advanced softly, standing beside him and facing the Caribbean Sea. The water looked black and stormy. There was barely any moonlight to glisten on its waves. The soft chorus of coconut tree leaves brushing together filled the quiet.

  I wanted to ask where he’d been, why he’d ignored my calls, if he knew how much I’d worried. But I didn’t have the right to.

  Amir spoke after a few minutes. “I turned on my phone and saw all your messages.”

  “I called a lot, didn’t I?”

  He nodded.

  “Can I… can I ask where you were?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I slipped my hands into the pockets of my hoodie.

  “I heard my mom slapped you.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. She shouldn’t have hit you.”

  “She hates me right now so I can understand.”

  He squinted as if straining to see the stars in the cloudy sky. “I was angry… furious, but you know the funny thing? I wasn’t angry for long.” He rocked back and glanced at me with a tiny smile. “That’s strange, isn’t it? Maybe there was a part of me that knew this was coming.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You should be.”

  I flinched. “You can tell everyone it was my fault. And I’ll pay for everything that isn’t refunded.”

  “Okay.”

  There was a little twitch inside my chest because a part of me was hoping that he’d let that go. I wasn’t made of money here.

  With a deep breath, Amir offered his hand. I stared at it and then clasped my fingers around his. He pumped our hands once and broke it off. “I hope I don’t see you again, Imani.”

  “I hope you forget about me, Amir.”

  He bowed his head and walked off.

  I returned to the car and drove home thoughtfully.

  Portia would be on high alert back at her apartment, waiting for a full run-down. I knew that, but I needed space and silence. My best friend was too high-energy for me and I didn’t have the patience to deal with that.

  When I was almost home, I changed my mind.

  Space and silence was over-rated.

  I needed to talk to someone.

  I needed Elliot.

  Slamming on the gas pedal, I swerved the car around and drove to his restaurant. When I saw Elliot’s car in the parking lot, I breathed in relief. Jumping out of my vehicle, I sprinted across the concrete and banged on the restaurant’s locked door until someone came to investigate.

  Just like they had last time, the workers recognized me and let me in on sight.

  “The boss is in his office,” Bryan said, pointing up.

  I took the stairs and crashed through Elliot’s door. He glanced up, his eyes widening when he saw me. Before he could say a word, I blurted, “They found him. They found Amir.”

  “They did?” He rose, eyebrows high.

  “I just spoke to him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He hates me.”

  “Understandable.”

  “I owe him for the wedding bills.”

  “We’ll get as many refunds as we can.”

  I sighed, thinking of my bank account.

  “I’ll help out too,” Elliot added.

  “No way.” I jerked up. “You’re not paying for me.”

  “When we get married, your debt will be my debt too. I might as well get in front of that while I can.”

  “Married? We’re still fighting and you’re talking about marriage?”

  He smirked and strode around his desk. His cocky swagger made me narrow my eyes even as pinpricks of heat burst to life all over my body.

  Elliot stopped right in front of me so I had to roll my neck back to look into his face. He wasn’t touching me and yet he was affecting me all the same. It was then that I realized I was stupidly in love with this man. To the point of insanity.

  “We’re still fighting,” he said, “but you’re here.”

  “I am.”

  He cupped my cheek. His calloused thumbs rasped against my sensitive jaw.

  I shivered.

  “I missed you,” Elliot whispered, his voice raw and broken.

  “Me too.”

  “Did you get my messages?”

  I nodded. “All four of them.”

  “I had a week’s worth of them lined up.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Imani,” his thumb softly grazed my cheek, “I thought about what you said. And you were right. I haven’t been fair to you. I was blind and slow on the uptake and I should have made a move when I had the chance.” He slid his hand down my neck, down my shoulder, my arm, before finally resting on my waist.

  I vibrated like a violin string with every brush of his hand. My heart, overwhelmed with love and relief, cried out to touch him. To be near him. All of him. To share all of me.

  Elliot’s intense gaze undid me as he admitted, “I don’t want to live my life without you. I’ll never stop pursuing you even when we’re old and grey and wrinkled. I’ll make sure you know how much I love you, how much you mean to me, everyday.”

  “Just shut up and kiss me.” I leaped on top of him.

  Elliot staggered back, but he held on to me as well as his balance. I grazed my lips against his mouth, gently at first and then more urgently, unleashing my sorrow, my joy, my love, my regrets.

  We caressed and nuzzled and started undressing when a knock sounded at the door. Elliot leaned off me and I almost cried out from missing the weight and feel of him.

  “Boss? I need you to sign the invoice for—”

  “Tomorrow,” Elliot yelled, running his hands through his blond hair.

  “But Boss, if we don’t get it done now they won’t deliver the—”

  He growled.

  The voice outside went quiet.

  I pushed his shoulders so his legs no longer pinned me against the desk and straightened, fixing the shirt he’d almost gotten over my head. “Finish up here. I should head home anyway.”

  “Are you tired?” he asked disappointedly.

  “Tired? I’m thousands of dollars in debt, but I’ve never been more excited in my life. Do you know what just happened?”

  “What?”

  I slapped my hands together. “I just closed a chapter.”

  “Boss?” Another knock.

  I winked at Elliot. “Get your work done and then brace yourself. You’re not getting any sleep tonight.”

  Chapter 32

  Elliot

  Imani lay on my chest, her hair spilling under my chin and over my pillow. Her curls were soft and released a sweet, fragrance.

  Eyes closed, I rolled over and pulled her into my body, lifting my knees so I could spoon her properly. Burying my face into the back of her neck, I took a deep breath. Sweat and lavender. I couldn’t get enough of her scent.

  My lips found the base of her neck. I pressed another kiss on her shoulder, enjoying her soft murmurs. My fingers ran down her arm stopping at her stomach. I planned on impregnating this woman so many times in the future our house would be a mill of dirty diapers and baby formula. I pressed my hand over her belly, smiling when I felt her wiggle.

  “Elliot, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Go to sleep.”

  “I can’t. I need to pee.” She nudged my arm away.

  “Stop moving,” I ordered, my voice husky from sleep. “Ask me nicely.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Those words did not grant her any freedom.

  She pushed me. “Elliot.”

  �
�Fine.” I sighed and released her.

  Imani rolled away and sat up, moving easily to the bathroom. She didn’t bother throwing on a robe so I left my tired eyes at half-mast and watched her plump behind sway until she disappeared behind the door.

  That woman was fine. Crafted by Someone who knew what He was doing. My hands were made to hold that behind and I planned on doing so until my fingerprints were branded perfectly on each cheek.

  Counting down the minutes until she was back, I opened my eyes when I heard the toilet flushing. The door opened a few moments later and she tiptoed back to the bed.

  The mattress creaked as her weight pooled to the end. I opened my eyes, grabbed her hand and yanked her down so she couldn’t get away.

  Imani tumbled in beside me, laughing softly. “Again?”

  “Again?” I growled as I felt her mischievous fingers inching lower. “You trying to kill me, woman?”

  “You’re the one holding me like you think I’ll run when you’re asleep.”

  “Will you?” I murmured, settling my head into the pillow.

  She reached up and caressed my jaw. In the darkness, all I could make out was the outline of her lips and her soft eyelashes fluttering.

  “No,” she said.

  “Do you love me?” I whispered.

  “More than anything.”

  My heart expanded with warmth. “What do you love about me?”

  She chuckled. “I guess… I love how kind and funny you are. And how sweet you are to your grandmother.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She inched closer. “You know, how a man treats the women in his life is a good indicator of how he’ll treat you.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Mm-hm.” Her voice got lower.

  “Tell me more.” I grinned.

  She licked her lips. “I love that we were friends for so long. Even if we were silently lusting for each other.”

  “True.” I rested my forehead against hers. “I want to kick myself when I think we could have been enjoying this sooner.”

  “What? Sex?”

  “Love.” I grinned. “But that too.”

  “Maybe we would have ruined things if we’d gotten together back then.”

  “Or maybe not.”

  “We can’t change the past,” she murmured. “Didn’t you say that?”

  “I’m a wise man.”