In the Land of Milk and Honey Page 20

  Time went on, and a year later Dina passed away from lymphoma. She was the closest thing to a Mom I’d had, and I took the hit as hard as he did. We consoled each other and cried together; that’s when Zack decided I was the girl for him. It seemed like he began to view me as a living extension of his lost grandmother, and a replacement for his then unrequited love, Violet.

  Zack pursued me relentlessly after that, even turning down a baseball scholarship to stay behind while I finished high school. He’d take me out and talk about our future while I just frowned and wondered where he’d gotten all these ideas. The attention was flattering, but I knew in my heart I was always runner up to the girl he wanted first. I couldn’t settle for that. A life as a slightly less desirable fill-in.

  When I was awarded a scholarship and moved to the city to follow Violet, Zack was crushed and angry. We had a huge fight before I left, and we hardly spoke on my rare visits home. Though he’d call occasionally late at night with a sad voice and tell me how he found a house I might like or about a job I might want.

  Zack wanted me to come home and marry him and live a happy quiet life. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t considered it at times. It seemed like the easy answer; become a CPA, move home with Zack, and watch him mow the lawn from my kitchen window. Simple. Then I got pregnant.

  Violet and I didn’t tell anyone about it, including my father, because her plan was to terminate and try to get things back to normal. Then Jill snuck me out of Violet’s apartment in the middle of the night and took me to her brother, August. I was in no condition to protest, and my mind was almost on mute during those final months, but I remember him begging me to carry the child to term because he wanted to adopt it.

  I asked him why he would want the child of a nobody school girl and whatever riff-raff man who’d had sex with me while I was living on the street. August said the baby deserved a chance, and he may never get another opportunity to have a child. That’s when he told me he was gay. At the time he was secretly in a long-term relationship with a man named Olivier, who gave him an ultimatum; but August chose us. He chose me and the baby we didn’t know. He paid our bills and catered to me as I shuffled lifelessly around; broken, ruined, and disgusted with myself.

  I ended up having an early emergency C-section, and I was out for a few days due to a bad reaction to the anesthesia, but when I woke up, there was August proudly cradling his new son. He asked me if I wanted to hold him as a goodbye. Reluctantly, I said yes. When I held him, he smiled at me. I never let my son go again.

  Violet argued, saying I was keeping the baby over a case of gas, but I pleaded and she slowly paid August back for the expenses and delivery—and August unwound the adoption. It didn’t take her long to understand.

  The worst part was I was so in a bubble with my new little baby, I never apologized to August for disrupting his life and keeping the baby I said I’d never want. Still, he became my biggest supporter and helped me get on my feet so I could do this on my own.

  Deciding to keep Tristan was the easy part—then I had to tell everyone else.

  My father and Zack drove up as soon as we told them. My dad furiously said I could have stayed in Virginia if my ambition had been to become a teen mom. But, he fell for his grandson as I had. Zack mourned on the sofa for days while I nursed my newborn. Then he proposed, insisting I move back home with him and he’d raise Tristan as his own—but I knew it wasn’t right. I didn’t love him in that way, not in the way he deserved. So instead, he moved to New York and started bartending. He wanted to open his own bar, and finally, last year, August helped him get loans. And for the rest, we all chipped in as investors.

  I got out of the cab and headed for the bright lights of Zack’s club Exodus, or X, as “the scene” people called it, to have a conversation that was almost five years in the making. The club was packed, as was to be expected on a Saturday night, and I wove my way through the swaying bodies trying to block out some of the loud music coming from the DJ booth.

  I spotted Zack in his corner booth surrounded by a few scantily clad girls, and I smiled as I approached his table. He was wearing black jeans and a black vest, showing off his muscular arms and chest, with a chain dangling from his pocket. He looked like a total badass, and when he saw me he smiled hugely but then caught himself.

  “Excuse me ladies,” he said suavely as he scooted the women on his left out of the booth and rose to welcome me.

  “Hello, Zackary,” I greeted amusedly as I looked up into his deep, warm brown eyes, and they twinkled a little as his lip tugged in the corner.

  “Gabrielle, I’m so glad you could join me. You look delicious tonight,” he crooned huskily, leaning down to kiss my cheek lingeringly.

  “And you as well, Zackary,” I replied, fighting my grin at his cheesiness.

  “Ladies, we’ll need some privacy,” he said with a wink to the few women still sitting in his booth. They all gave me the stink eye as they slid out and strutted away.

  “Have a seat,” he offered, and it looked like he was fighting a smile of his own as he laid a hand on my lower back, ushering me in the booth. Zack slid in after me and then drew closed the velvet privacy curtain of the booth, grinning into the crowd before it closed completely.

  “Can’t we meet at a coffee shop like normal people?” I asked as I took in the Moroccan lantern that hung over the polished dark walnut table I’d designed. He said this was the only time and place we could meet when I’d called.

  “Ah, you know how it is, Bree. I’m in this place twenty-four seven these days. I think it owns me rather than the other way around,” Zack complained exhaustedly, but I could see the excitement and pride in his face when he nudged the curtain open for a glance.

  I smiled. “Do women really fall for this?” I reached over and fidgeted with the multiple silver chains around his neck.

  “Yes, I’m peacocking and this, Bree, is plumage,” he replied seriously and then his lip quirked up because he knew how ridiculous that sounded.

  “Hey, don’t hate the player, hate the game.” He smiled, swatting my hand from the chains. I pursed my lips—Zack was definitely spending too much time with Ian.

  “You promised me no more tattoos,” I remarked, noticing a new inky phoenix on his forearm, wings extended in rebirth and flight. He had quite the collection. “I liked your natural look just fine,” I said, channeling Dina.

  “I know you did,” he admitted with a sheepish grin and then it fell. “You just didn’t like it enough,” he added with a slight edge. I smiled weakly, not wanting to dredge up more than I had to tonight.

  “You haven’t been around in a while,” I transitioned. “Everyone misses you.”

  “What are you talking about, Bree? I see Ian three days a week at the gym, and you and Violet just mauled me outside the playground two weeks ago!” he said, lightening the mood in classic Zack style.

  “You know who I mean,” I replied. His eyes softened a little.

  “I know. Tell the little guy I miss him,” he admitted and looked down at his folded hands on the tabletop. “What did you want to talk about? I know you didn’t come all the way uptown just to guilt trip me.”

  “No, that’s not why I came,” I said, staring at his entwined fingers and the championship ring from our high school’s baseball team he still wore.

  “What’s up Bree?” he asked concernedly as he leaned forward across the round table. “Spill.”

  I took a deep breath and stared at the red and black velvet damask wallpaper Violet had selected.

  “I found Tristan’s biological father,” I said finally, turning back to Zack.

  His mouth fell a little bit open. He stared at me with widened eyes for a few beats before he sat back deeply in his seat, letting his square shoulders slump. He didn’t speak for a while as he gazed at the inner lining of the velvet, and I watched the spice-colored glass lantern twirl a little on its chain, sending prisms of coriander light on his proud cinnamon features.

&n
bsp; “I guess it was inevitable,” he commented as he took a deep breath and ran his hand on his scalp. I nodded as I looked into his eyes, which were a little glassy. “Coulda’ been us, Bree,” he exhaled with remorse and bitterness. “It could have been good. Really good.”

  “I know,” I replied as I stared hard into the eyes of the only man I’d ever come close to loving. Strong eyes. Reliable eyes.

  “I tried, you know I did,” Zack continued, frustrated, in an unsteady voice, as his eyes began to well. “So fuckin’ hard,” he finished, hanging his head and his voice cracked.

  “I know,” I whispered as I watched him swallow hard and stare at the lining again. When his wet eyes met mine again, he gave me a thin smile and shook his head with his brows pinched together.

  “It’s just…why’d he have to be so damn blonde?” he added with a forced chuckle, and I laughed a little, too.

  “Hey, now, that’s my son you’re talking about,” I chided, feigning offense, thankful for Zack’s levity.

  “Yeah, your son,” he replied soberly with a deep exhale. “So, who’s the lucky guy?” he asked bitterly, and I had to look away.

  “Just some guy,” I answered, because it in that moment it didn’t matter who the guy was, he could never be equal to Zack. There was no way to answer that without hurting him more. He nodded.

  I reached into my purse and pulled out a little blue envelope. “I brought this for you,” I smiled as I slid the little blue envelope across the table.

  He flipped it over in his hands a few times before pulling out the card inside and reading it silently. Then he chuckled.

  “That’s really fuckin’ cute, Bree,” he commented as he grinned up at me, and I smiled back proudly. “Fuckin’ adorable, actually.”

  “Thank you. I got some new hole punches that cut out those little dinosaur shapes and the ribbon was a bargain,” I said excitedly as I reached across and pointed at my homemade handiwork. “So you’ll be there?” I asked sincerely, meeting his gaze.

  “Sure, Bree,” he replied, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes; he wasn’t coming.

  I felt the urge to get out of there and grabbed my purse. “I’d better be going,” I announced as I began to slide out of the seat.

  ‘You want me to walk you out?” he offered as he stood up and pulled back the curtain.

  “I’m fine,” I assured him. “You look like you’ve got your hands full anyway,” I jested, tilting my head towards the pack of tigresses headed his way.

  He looked down at me and smiled again sheepishly. We both knew this wasn’t really him.

  “Love you, Bree,” he spoke sincerely, wrapping me in a tight hug, lifting me off the ground.

  “Careful,” I exclaimed. I could feel my skirt riding up.

  “Bye, Bree,” he said as he let me down. I kissed his cheek lightly before I turned and navigated through the dark, noisy club. I could feel his eyes on me as I made my way out.

  The air outside was nice and calm against the vibrancy of the club, so I decided to walk for a while. Too many heavy things were looming, and time alone to think was a rare commodity.

  I’d rounded another corner, lost in thought when I heard shuffling footsteps in the distance behind, and the sound of a lighter flicking. I loved walking in the city, it was special at night and I never got the chance, but this wasn’t my usual neighborhood. I stepped to the curb, deciding it was time to get a cab and head home. As I craned my head both ways, I heard the sound of running.

  Chapter 15 - A Streetcar Named Desire

  Three street kids approached, running, two male one female. As soon as I turned to see them and step out of the way, they were at me. One snatched my purse strap right off my shoulder, and I pulled it back. I tugged, frantically, foolishly, and then let go. I stumbled forward, catching myself narrowly on a light post. I was looking down at my broken heel when I saw headlights and heard the sound of brakes halting right off the curb beside me.

  “Get in,” I heard the English accent brusquely command and turned to see Daniel leaning across the back seat of a black limo, pushing the door open.

  Stunned, my eyes darted to the sound of the teens running, and then to Daniel, his brows lowered over livid eyes. I looked around and saw a homeless man sitting ahead with a pit bull on the unfamiliar dark street, suddenly horribly shaken. I removed my shoes and dashed towards the car.

  I slid in, reaching to pull the door, but he deftly leaned across, the fabric of his blazer swishing against my chest and held the door firmly. I gave him a confused look, really wanting to get the heck out of there, but he arched an impatient brow and I dropped my hand, and he swiftly snapped the door closed in on me. He leaned back to the opposite side of the black bench leather seat and hit a button, the intercom to the driver on the other side of a glass partition.

  “Ms. Valentine’s,” he directed curtly. As the car pulled away, Daniel sank deeply into the leather of the seat and towards me, his broad shoulder brushing mine and his legs stationed wide apart. I sat pin straight, still on edge, crossing my legs at the ankles to keep them from shaking. He distracted himself with the phone in his hands, poised, scrolling through emails indifferently, but the tension radiating off him was dense.

  “Thanks,” I murmured with a furrowed brow, finally processing I was grateful for the ride considering I was now moneyless, but suspicious as to what he was doing alone on a side street, uptown on a Saturday night. He looked a little tired but as handsome as ever in a black suit and shirt with the collar undone.

  “You’ve always had a taste for danger, haven’t you?” he grudged, with an edge.

  “Some things can’t be predicted,” I countered warily, adjusting in my seat, moving further away from his warm body. I gazed out the dark window.

  “That may be true as well,” he conceded, I frowned further. We rode in silence for a while, bumping along the city streets while I calmed some.

  “Can I ask you something?” I said finally, turning to his profile illuminated by the soft blue light of the phone, just in time to watch his eyes dart from my exposed thigh back to the screen.

  “You may,” he replied, “although I may or may not answer.”

  I huffed lightly, thinking about how to ask something that had been percolating in the back of my mind since the night he’d implied I might want revenge against him. At the rate we were going, I didn’t know if I’d get another opportunity to ask.

  “When we met, did we do anything…illegal together?” I probed cautiously, needing to unblemish my conscience.

  “Yes,” he replied, and I watched his jaw line tighten, brows pinching together.

  “I figured as much,” I said quietly, disappointed in the weak girl I was then. I stared outside the limo at passing cars.

  “Does that bother you?” I snapped to face him, hearing the taunt in his tone, to find his green eyes locking me in. “That you’re not incorruptible?”

  “Of course,” I defended, incredulous, and then turned contemplative. “I forgive myself for the past, but I know how to move on. There’s nothing worth staying bitter over.” I’d decided that long ago.

  “I’m jealous of that trait,” he said in a low voice, and his eyes seemed entirely unfocused on the phone’s screen. Whatever they were, these thoughts weren’t happily recalled tonight.

  I swallowed. “You’ve…given up all your vices now?” I asked, trying to get to the bottom of the drug use.

  “I’ve never had a vice,” he corrected me. Then he pursed his lips, before he turned, taking me in, with a tug playing in the corner of his lip. “Well…maybe one.”

  “Right.” Sex. Equal parts annoyed and uncomfortable, I turned away. “You missed the karate tournament,” I said, switching subjects. I felt him tense next to me, back on his device. “And you haven’t responded to the birthday invitation. It’s kind of a big one. He’s turning five,” I explained, referring to the blue invitation I’d put in the mail to him days ago. “You’re welcome to come.” />
  “Is that what you want?” he asked, turning his face to me as he stared hard into my eyes. His face was too close, so I shifted away again, but his body seemed to follow.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s the right thing to do,” I replied sharply and leaned away again because he smelled too nice, something natural, of man and strength and body.

  “I thought you were trying to convince me?” he said, but his eyes were softer now, searching.

  “It would be nice, yes,” I admitted quietly. He nodded and looked down at his phone as if I’d answered wrong.

  “I don’t expect you to be father of the year, but you could at least attempt some sort of effort,” I said.

  He pocketed his phone. “I was never meant to be a father,” Daniel announced.

  I bristled. “Well, you are one, so play the hand you’ve been dealt. I didn’t get pregnant by myself, and these consequences and responsibilities belong to us both. I’m not saying that for my sake.” I drilled my gaze into his, feeling my nostrils flare, ready for resistance, but his hardened features became peaceful.

  “Or maybe I can only have them with you?” he questioned, as if in wonder, and as much as I resented him, the statement was a warm bath, soaking into my bones; stunning me. After a moment, his eyes fell to my lips. I felt a rush of adrenaline in all its forms. Everywhere. Then his eyes flicked to mine—I couldn’t think. “I think you should let me find out,” he said, eyes meeting mine, and his tongue slid along his bottom lip and glistened in the dim gold interior light in the most captivating way. He slowly leaned towards me, and his eyes were burning with something I didn’t recognize as he let his gaze drop to my lips. He paused right before meeting my lips, my breathing heavy on his cheek, and his eyes darted briefly up to mine for consent.