by Tiya Rayne
“You can’t have love if the end goal isn’t marriage?”
“Isn’t that what everyone’s end goal is? What’s the point of it all if not for marriage?”
“Marriage is a piece of paper. One you file to let everyone know you are tied to another being. Hell, it was designed to align two people for the benefit of their families. It was a business transaction. And like most things in history, some asshole took it and made it some sanctified right that all of a sudden has the power to exclude others.”
I find myself speechless. Not just because of his words, but because this is the most sound and reasonable thing I’ve heard him say since we reconnected. I remain silent, still in complete shock at the sense he’s making.
“Forever with someone has shit to do with walking down an aisle and pledging a bunch of lies in front of a preacher. Forever is a mental commitment. I can be more committed to you without a ring and those papers than most husbands today,” he goes on to say.
“Yeah, you say that now, but what happens when we have our first disagreement? When I do something you don’t like, or don’t say the right words? What happens when the fun stage is over and all of a sudden you realize the person you are with isn’t perfect?”
This is what he doesn’t understand. Everyone is great at first, but talk to me about forever after ten years. Hell, even three.
That’s when it all breaks down. When time goes on and you have to rely on something more than sexual attraction. Dick is great, but it won’t keep me from feeling unappreciated or unheard in a marriage. Sex, no matter how great, won’t make them stay.
He pulls his car up to the curb down the street from my shop. However, neither of us make a move to get out. Seth turns off the car and faces me.
“Perfection isn’t real. No one is perfect. That’s where you went wrong, it’s why your marriage failed.”
“Oh really, and now you’re a marriage counselor.”
He shakes his head. “No, I just see bullshit and I call people on it.”
I scoff. “Like you know love. Isn’t that emotion beyond your grasp?”
“I don’t have to grasp the emotion to understand it.”
“Really,” I challenge. “Tell me, when’s the last time you’ve even been in a relationship?”
He pops his neck and his jaw tenses. “You don’t know enough about me to ask that question.”
“I could say the same to you.” I shake my head and flick my gaze upward. “I don’t have to sit here and listen to you mansplain to me what I did wrong in my relationship.”
I hiss before I lay it all on the table. “Look, I wasn’t perfect, but I gave that man seven years of my faithfulness and what did he give me? A baby out of wedlock.”
His eyes bulge and I hope he feels like shit for what he said earlier, but it’s Seth so I doubt it. Now that it’s out there, I continue. “I was willing to give him my forever and he tossed it in my face like it was worthless. So, excuse me if I don’t have the energy or the desire to put myself out there again. Relationships are exhausting and I have more important things to worry about.”
“They’re exhausting because you’re trying to be perfect. You want to know how to make a relationship last forever?”
“Oh, please, tell me your great ways.” Apparently, sarcasm is another one of those things he can’t grasp.
“Love and finding your forever is about realizing and accepting the other person’s shit. One simple question, can you live with their flaws, that’s it? That’s the secret to forever. It’s not about finding the perfect love. It’s about finding an imperfect person and making love perfect.”
The car is surrounded in silence again. Not even the outside noise seems to be able to break this bubble we’re in.
Seth is brash, obtrusive, he still lacks boundaries, and he’s candid as hell, but I’m learning he’s also very intelligent.
“My brother likes you, Lia.” His gaze is fixed to something outside the window, but his attention is still in this car. “In our work, we don’t get to plan for forever. We only get the right now.”
He turns those intense gorgeous eyes back to me. “He isn’t perfect. He gets wrapped up in work and sometimes forgets to call. He overthinks every damn thing, can’t see for shit without those glasses, and can’t cook to save his life. He’s imperfect, but he deserves happiness, even if it’s for a short while.”
He tucks a stray hair behind my ear and his fingers linger on my cheek before he takes his hand back to his side of the truck. His concern and his love for his brother are clear, but there is something in his eyes. Something right beneath the surface. I want to call attention to it, ask him why his eyes don’t match the pleading in his words.
However, before I can muster up the courage to ask, the speakers start to ring. Seth blinks a few times before turning to the steering wheel and hitting talk.
“This is Seth,” his calm voice rumbles through the car.
“Twin, where the fuck are you?” The other guy on the phone seems to be really upset.
“I’m in my car, but I’m not alone,” he says quickly like I often have to when Grams calls.
“Hawk’s in trouble. They’re being followed,” the voice on the other end dips, letting me know he’s worried. “Zel just sent me a text, your GPS says you’re close by. I’m stuck doing Church business. Many is with me, I need—”
“I’m on my way. Send me the coordinates.” The phone disconnects and I’m already opening the door to climb out. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” Seth quickly says. I wave him off.
“Go. I’ll check in with Lucien later.”
He nods, but for the first time since I met him, I see fear in his eyes. I don’t know who this Hawk and Zel are, but he really cares about them. I slam the truck door.
He pulls away from the curb, making a U-turn in the middle of traffic. A car comes to a screeching stop to keep from running into him. I watch his taillights until they disappear.
Chapter 21
The New Friend
Malia
* * *
I grind my hips to the music as Emory cheers me on. We’re in the kitchen tonight, cooking together. She giggles when I bump my hips into her.
“You didn’t know your mama could dance like this, did you?” I tease.
She shakes her head no and does this little arm dance I’ve seen children do often. I cheer her on proudly.
“What is going on in here?” Grams voices causes us to spin around to face the doorway.
I click the music off on my phone, silencing the kitchen. “I thought you were out hanging with friends tonight?”
She’s been spending a lot more time with her old work buddies lately.
“I was, but I’m old, and ten o’clock is the new midnight.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “Well, we are having roasted garlic and pepper potatoes, grilled chicken breast, and steamed asparagus,” I say, taking the top off of my steamer. “Go ahead and wash up for dinner.”
I direct my last statement to Emory who nods and skips out of the room. I busy myself, placing the food in plates.
“Hm,” Grams starts. “I guess whatever had your panties in a twist these last three days has been resolved.”
I cast a glance at her over my shoulders. She’s leaning against the doorframe.
“My panties were not in a twist.”
“Girl, please. You were moping around here like you lost your best friend.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I continue plating the asparagus. It’s best not to encourage her, denying or confirming will only make her dig deeper.
“Oh, I see. That’s what it was about. The new friend.”
“Do you want asparagus?” I continue to ignore her.
The sound of her chuckle draws closer. “Remember in fourth grade, you came home all excited about meeting some pretty eyed boy?” I freeze for a split second, the spoon halfway to her plate. “You talked my ear off about him, didn’t even care about the other
stuff that happened that day. Then when you went back to school he was moved away like a bunch of other kids, you moped around here so long, your sour mood killed all my plants.”
I huff. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Oh really? My elephant ears still haven’t come back.”
I burst out laughing and she joins before slowly getting serious again.
“What happened, baby girl?”
I turn around to face her before leaning my hip against the kitchen counter. “Maybe I like this new friend more than I thought. And maybe I should rethink my stance against dating?”
“Well, look at that. The heavens have smiled upon us. I’ve only been telling you this for the last two years, but I guess I didn’t have that little thing swinging between my legs to give my words value.”
“It isn’t like that. Someone pointed out to me that maybe I went about things wrong the first time.”
“Did they tell you how your expectations were too high for a man who couldn’t even shoot a gun?”
“I wanted what you had with Pop and what mom had with my dad.”
She leans back and looks me up and down. “Baby girl, I told you the good stories because they were good. And for most days, your grandfather and I had a wonderful marriage, but honey there were days he almost didn’t make it to the next.
“We argued and disagreed all the time. He hated my job and wanted me to give it up. I despised his mother and his wide hip sister and watching that man chew was the equivalent of nails across a chalk board.”
I laugh out loud. She takes my hand in hers and I focus back on her.
“Yet even after all that, I loved him. I loved every single flaw the man had and he loved me the same. That’s what love is. Knowing what flaws can be accepted and which ones can be toxic.”
“But love is so exhausting.”
Her brows dip together. “What are you talking about?”
“I feel like I’m always giving everything I am to make the relationship work, and in the end, it never does. You heard Trenton that day, what if there is something wrong with me?”
“There is.”
My mouth falls open, her brutal honesty isn’t what I was expecting. “Wow, way to be gentle, Grams.”
“Something is wrong with you because you lose who you are in relationships. Since when did you not want to have kids?” she asks. My eyes widen? I don’t even ask how she found out about that. “Running around behind that sorry man, giving up your dreams of being a mother for him. That was your problem. You give up too much to make your relationships work.”
“Look at what all Mom sacrificed. You said no one wanted her with Daddy.”
“Yes, Rissa sacrificed, but she never lost herself. That’s the difference.”
She releases my hand and takes a step back. She’s right. I’ve always known I had this problem.
I get so caught up on having this perfect relationship, I sometimes make sacrifices of myself to make it work. Even giving up my time, my energy, and in the case with Trenton, my desire to have kids. I would have never found true happiness, because I wasn’t even my true self.
“Tell me the truth, were Mama and Daddy as happy as you made them out to be?”
She chuckles. “Those two were like fire. You couldn’t get too close to them without burning. They loved each other so much they forgot there were other people in this world who needed them.” She cups my cheek in her roughened hand. “That was their only flaw.”
I already knew I had been with Grams the night my parents were killed. Grams always made it sound as if they had dropped me off before a date night, but hearing her talk now, I don’t think they were coming back for me.
“Do you think they would have regretted loving each other if they knew how it would end?”
She chuckles. “Heavens no.” We both laugh. “Sometimes, two people are so meant to be, not even time, or distance will stop them. Your parents burned like fire for a short time, only long enough to make a wave in the world, and then they left. Sometimes in life and in love, all you’re allowed is a small window. You need to make that window count.”
They say if you hear something more than one time in a day, fate must be talking to you. Clearly, fate is speaking.
“You sound like Seth.”
“Is Seth the new friend?” She lifts her salt and pepper brow to her hairline.
I brush my hair behind my ear. “No, Lucien is the friend, Seth is his brother.”
“Is Seth coming over?” My daughter’s tablet asks. She’s standing in the kitchen with an excited smile on her face and her tablet clutched in her hand.
“No,” I reply quickly.
“Wait, Munchkin has met this brother and I haven’t even met the friend?”
“Only by accident.” I turn back to my job of plating the food.
“He’s so funny, Grams,” the tablet replies.
“Well, then I need to meet him.”
I shake my head, no way will she meet Seth. Their two strong personalities would definitely clash.
Chapter 22
This is Seth
Malia
* * *
I silently close the door to Emory’s room. She finally fell asleep after reading a few chapters in her favorite book. I slip into my room and close the door behind me, my thoughts still on the conversations of today.
I wasn’t lying to Seth when I told him I like Lucien. Everything I said about him is true. There definitely is a connection between us. The last three days without talking to him were pretty miserable. Honestly, I could have easily called him when he didn’t call me.
As soon as the thought crosses my mind, I grab my phone and carry it to my window seat. Plopping down, I call Lucien’s number. It rings four times before he answers, only it isn’t Lucien.
“This is Seth.”
“Seth?” I look down at the phone again to see if I somehow dialed the wrong number. “Why are you answering Lucien’s phone?”
“Little brother is still working, and whenever someone calls and can’t get him, the calls are forwarded to my number.” He sounds slightly distracted and there’s a lot of pinging in the background.
“What is all that noise?”
“I’m in the middle of a shootout, Candy Girl.”
I roll my eyes, men and their stupid video games. “Look, I’m not going to hold you. I was calling to check on Luc.”
The phone goes silent. The noise in the background stops suddenly. I again pull the phone from my ear, this time to see if I dropped the call.
“I’m guessing my pep-talk worked?”
I lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes. “It wasn’t only you. My Grams has been trying to get me to see reason too.”
“No, I’m positive it was just me.”
“Shut up.” I laugh. “When do you think I’ll be able to talk to him again?”
He heaves a breath through the phone. “He won’t stay away from you long. Trust me.”
“You sound so sure.”
“Oh, I am. My brother is exactly like me. When we want something, we will stop at nothing to keep it. And I know if it were me, and you were mine, I’d burn this bitch down to have you.”
That feeling is back, the pulsing feeling that leaves me breathless and tongue tied. It’s the same feeling that attacked me the night in my store when he pinned me against the wall. I have to close my eyes and count to five before I respond and even then it’s breathy.
“Good thing, I’m not yours then.”
His soft chuckle doesn’t help. “Yeah, good.”
“I have to go. Tell Lucien I called.”
“Goodnight, Candy Girl.”
“Goodnight, Seth.” I click the phone off and inhale.
Time for a long shower.
Chapter 23
Would It Matter
Malia
* * *
I’m awoken from a deep sleep but can’t quite figure out what woke me. I lie still in my bed, trying to l
isten for any noises. Only silence. Kicking off the cover, I climb out of bed and pad downstairs for a drink of water. The conversation with Seth still in my head.
The clock on the stove reads three in the morning. I grab a water out of the fridge and toss the contents back, the sound of floorboards creaking makes me freeze. I quietly place my bottle down before heading out into the living room where the sound originated.
There’s no one in the room so I check the front door. It’s locked. Turning to head back upstairs, I come face to face with the barrel of a gun. I freeze, fear making me motionless.
It’s hard for my brain to look past the open barrel of the gun, but when I do, I spot the hooded figure holding the weapon. He’s tall, maybe six and a half feet with shoulders like a linebacker. His entire face is shrouded in darkness.
He doesn’t speak, only holds the gun to the middle of my head. Part of me wants to scream and beg, but I don’t want to draw his attention away from me and up those stairs where my child is sleeping. For now, I remain silent.
“Aren’t you going to beg?” he asks in a deep male voice.
“Would it matter?” I doubt it would and he knows it wouldn’t either. He wouldn’t be in here if it did.
At that exact moment, my greatest fear comes to life. The floor creaks for the second time tonight and standing at the top of the stairs clutching her rabbit is my daughter. I gasp, the man turns to see what I see. Then catching a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, I turn my head right. The gunman’s attention must have been grabbed at the same time.
He grabs my throat and spins me into his chest, using me as a shield. Now his gun is aimed on my eighty-year-old Grams who happens to be holding a gun of her own.
“You don’t want to do this, son,” Grams warns.
The hooded man doesn’t reply, but his grip on my neck tightens as he shields his body with mine. He starts to back away and Grams follows. Emory takes a step down on the stairs.