An Unexpected Love (Women's Fiction/BWWM Romance) (7 page)

Valerie grabbed the piece of strawberry shortcake
from the kitchen counter and went into the living room. David sat on the couch
watching the nine o’clock news and smiling like the cat that ate the canary. Corrine
and the male newscaster spoke about some new plan of Mayor Parker’s. David
tilted his head, staring at Corrine as if she were dancing around a pole.

Valerie cleared her throat.

“Damn.” He jerked. “You scared me.”

He grabbed the remote and turned the
channel.

“Just bringing your strawberry shortcake.”
She held the cake out to him. “Did you want some milk?”

“No, this is fine, babe.” He took the
saucer. “Ooh wee. What did I do to deserve this lovely dessert?” He plunged his
fork through the foamy cream and strawberries. “You’re not having any?”

She cut her gaze to the television.

“No.” She faked a smile and sat beside
him. “I’m still full from dinner.”

“This is delicious, babe.” He licked cream
off his lips. “You haven’t made dessert in a while. Why tonight?”

She shrugged and played with her hair. “Just
felt like it. Why did you change the channel?”

He licked strawberry filling off his fork.
“Hmm?”

“You heard me.” She left her hair alone.
“You were watching the news and seemed to be having a lot of fun doing it
before I walked in.”

He sat back. “Are you getting at
something?”

“Nope.” She stretched her arm on the back
of the couch. “I happened to notice how much attention you were paying to my
sister and how you turned the channel when I came in.”

“I was watching the news,” he grumbled.
“Don’t start.”

“Start what?” She crossed her legs. “Sure
is funny how you were loving the news a minute ago and now…”

“Fine.” He turned it back and laid the
remote between them. “Happy?”

Corrine giggled at some lame joke her
co-anchor made about the humidity, breasts and all hanging out.

“I can’t believe they let her dress like
that to tell the news.” Valerie bounced her leg. “All of these newswomen dress
like tramps now. And they have so much makeup on its ridiculous.”

“Val.” David chewed. “Please cool it.”

“I’m just saying.” She pointed to the
television. “Is she there to tell the news or show her tits? Is that what she
has to do to keep her job?” She twisted a lock of hair around her finger. “Sad if
so…then again, she’s been flaunting what she’s got since the tenth grade.”

“Stop it. She looks fine.”

“I’m sure you’d know, the way you’re
ogling her.”

“For God’s sake.” He put another piece of
cake into his mouth. “For the last damn time, I was watching the news. Can I
please just eat my fuckin’ cake without a damn argument?”

“I just asked why you turned the channel,
David.”

“Let me just eat, please.” He focused on
what was left of his cake, cutting his gaze to Corrine along the way.

Val grimaced. “You’re attracted to her
aren’t you?”

“Oh goddamn, Val.” He slammed the saucer
on the table. “Just stop it, all right?”

She ignored him and pressed on. “You think
she’s pretty?”

“What the fuck?” He wiped his mouth with
the napkin. “Where is this coming from?”

“I saw how you were looking at her just
now.” She pointed to the television. “Watching the news, my ass. I bet you
can’t tell me one thing she said unless it came from her tits.”

“We’re not doing this shit tonight.” He
stood, snatched up the leftover piece of cake, and went into the kitchen.

She stomped in behind him. “Not doing
what?”

“Fighting.” He scraped the cake into the
sink. “I’m not having it tonight.”

“You think she’s pretty? Of course you do,
right? Hell, I know she’s a goddess.” She walked to him. “But I wanna know what
you
think.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Tell me what you think!”

“Yes, she’s pretty, damn it!” He moved
from the sink. “But that doesn’t mean I wanna fuck her.”

“Oh.” She gaped. “That’s an interesting
statement, David.”

“Val, please.”

“No, how did we get from me asking if
she’s pretty to you fucking her? You must wanna fuck her, if you thought about
it!”

“I
don’t
wanna fuck her.” He clenched his teeth. “I think she’s pretty, and
that’s it. Don’t try to turn this shit on me. You came into the room looking
for an argument, and it’s pathetic.”

He headed out of the kitchen.

Valerie marched behind him. “Get your black
ass back in here.”

He stopped at the kitchen sink and turned
around. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

 
“I’m
talking to you.” She put her hands on her waist. “You think I’m stupid? Maybe
you are when it comes to Corrine, but I’m not.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Come on, David.” She frowned. “Stop being
so dumb. I know you like running to Corrine for advice. You think she’s there
just to be there, but she’s not. She has it in for me, and she always has.
She’d use you to hurt me.”

“God.” He laughed. “Everything is not
about you, Val. I know that’s hard to understand.”

“Why did you mention you didn’t wanna fuck
her unless you want to?”

He held out his arms. “Maybe I
should
fuck her.”

“What?!”

“Fucking Corrine might be the only way to
get you to pay me some attention.”

“What do you mean?”

He stood by the stove. “The only time you pay
attention to me is when we’re arguing.”

She dropped her hands from her waist. “That’s
not true.”

“It is true! Shit, if you’re not talking
about a baby or arguing, it’s like you got no reason to talk to me at all.”

“David…”

“When’s the last time you asked me about
work?” He stood close to her. “I’m putting together one of the biggest ad campaigns
of my career. So far, you’ve said nothing about it.”

She went to touch him.

“I—”

“Do you even know what’s going on with me,
Val? I feel like a part of the furniture. Like something you
expect
to be here. Something you take
for granted.”

She leaned against the kitchen chair. “I
didn’t know you felt that way.”

“That’s my point. You’d know if you paid
me some attention.”

“You should’ve told me how you felt, David.”

“I shouldn’t
have
to tell you.” He gripped his head. “You’re so wrapped up in
everything
but
me that I’m not even
on your radar.”

He turned his back to her.

“You are on my radar.” She touched his
back. “You know I love you.”

Turning around, he said, “Then show it
like you used to, Val. You didn’t get upset just now because I was looking at
Corrine. You got upset because you’re jealous because she’s been there for me
when you haven’t.”

“You can sing Corrine’s praises all you
want, but it would be stupid to trust her. Must I remind you of what happened
to our baby?”

“Corrine did not push you down those
steps.”

“She did!” She waved her arm. “She’s
wanted you since I introduced your ass to the family. She hated it when we got
married, and she didn’t want us to have a baby.”

“It’s sick to think that way, Val.”

“It’s the truth. You can’t trust her.”

“Okay, say she
is
using me. Honestly, I don’t care. I’m so starved for attention
that I’m happy to get it any way I can. It feels good to have someone concerned
about me again.”

“She’s perfect?” She balled fists. “If you
think that then maybe you should just be with Corrine then.” She pointed to the
doorway. “Go on!”

“I don’t want to be with Corrine. I want
my wife back.” He grabbed her and placed his hands on her cheeks. “I want us
back the way we used to be. I want some attention, Val.” Tears filled his eyes.
“I want you to think about me sometimes and forget all the other shit.” He laid
his forehead against hers. “I love you so much, but I don’t know what to do. I
don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She kissed him. “I never
meant to make you feel unimportant.” She stroked his cheek. “You’re my whole
world. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“Then you need to start showing me that,
Val.” He pulled away from her. “If not, then I don’t know how much longer we’ll
last.”

He left the kitchen.

The next night, Patrick strolled up to the
front desk of the Wellington Center with a bouquet of white carnations.

“Gertie.” He smiled at the old,
large-hipped white woman behind the desk. “How are you?”

“Mr. Sham.” She stood. “How are you? I
didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to drop in and check
on Layla.” Then he waved the flowers.

“My, those flowers are gorgeous.” She swerved
her gigantic hips from behind the desk. “And may I say, I’m sorry about the
divorce. Around here, we assumed everything was great between you two. You guys
seemed like a fairytale romance.”

“That’s why it’s best not to make
assumptions from the outside.” He shrugged. “Is she in her room? I can go on
myself.”

“No, she’s at the party.” Her chubby
cheeks spread when she smiled. “One of the nurses is turning sixty today, and
the staff decided to do a little celebration in the rec room. Some of the
residents were allowed to attend.”

“Really? That sounds like fun.”

“It’s in the gym. I’ll show you.” She
skipped back behind her desk. “Just let me put my computer to sleep.” She hit a
button on the keyboard. “There we go.” She rushed to Patrick and took his arm.
“Right this way.”

He looked left and right, as they went
down one massive hall after another. They turned three corners then came to the
gym. The double doors were wide open. Instrumental Latin music and laughter
spilled into the hall.

“Whoa.” Gertie stopped in the doorway.
“They’re having a ball.” She laughed.

About thirty people occupied the small gymnasium.
A group of men, who appeared to be patients, sat on the bleachers playing
cards. Three women scrambled around, giving cake to people. Others danced in
circles and twisted to the festive music. A man, who appeared to be another
patient, danced with a woman who by her name badge, seemed to be a nurse or
some other attendant. A long table—covered with a paper runner decorated with
drawings of candles and birthday hats, and displaying a huge cake and bowl of
punch—sat in the center of the room.
 

“There’s Layla.” Gertie pointed to the
corner of the room.

Layla sat tucked away with a blond, white
guy. He whispered something in her ear. She laughed, nearly spitting out punch.
Patrick deflated as if all the breath he owned had leaked from him. He lowered
the flowers.

Gertie wobbled her head and clapped to the
music.
 
“Layla looks like she’s having
fun, doesn’t she?”

 
“Yeah,”
Patrick muttered. “That’s good for her.”

He tried to swallow, but there was a lump
the size of Texas in his throat.

The fast music ended, and a slow song
started to play. The blond guy set down their punch cups and held out his hands,
as if inviting Layla to dance. She bowed her head, took his hands, and they
started dancing. She placed her hand on his shoulder. He slid his down her side
and perched it on her waist.

Patrick clenched the flowers tighter.

They danced so close they seemed glued
together. The man stared into Layla’s eyes. She smiled back at him, in a way Patrick
hadn’t seen in years. Patrick gestured with the flowers.

“Who’s that guy she’s with?”

“That’s Cross.” Gertie smiled from ear to
ear. “They’ve really hit it off.”

“Have they?” Patrick groaned.

“Uh-huh. They’ve been stuck together like
glue since Layla got here. He’s the only one she seems to talk to outside of
Dr. Livingston or the nurses.”

“Cross?” Patrick whispered. “What kind of
name is that?”

“Go on in.” She pointed. “There’s plenty
of cake and…”

“No.” He pulled back. “I think I’d rather
wait until she’s through.”

“It’s no problem. You can mingle and have
a little fun too, if you want.”

“No.” Patrick kept his gaze on Layla and
Cross. “I’d rather wait and talk to her in private.”

He tried to fight the sadness of what he’d
seen, but it didn’t work. “She’s having fun. I don’t want to disturb her. I can
wait outside of her room.”

“Okay.” Gertie acted as if she sensed
Patrick’s apprehension. “If that’s more comfortable for you, that’s fine.”

Patrick looked at Layla and Cross one last
time and then went down the hall.

****

Layla followed Cross into the dark
courtyard.

“I don’t think we should be out here
without them knowing.”

“It’s cool.” He convinced her as they walked
down the steps. “I come out here all the time at night. They don’t care. We’re
not the craziest of the crazy.”

When he made another silly face, she
nudged him and said, “Stop. We can’t throw stones.”

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between us
and the people on the fourth floor, Layla. That’s why they’re shackled to their
beds and locked in.”

“Be quiet.” She nudged him again,
grinning. “They don’t lock folks down in here.”

They walked underneath the security lights,
which lit up selected spots of the courtyard.

“You’re talking about one of those
psychiatric hospitals like they show on movies,” Layla said. “I’ve never been
in one of those, thank God. Luckily I never got
that
bad.”

“I’ve been in one of those.”

She watched him as he walked. “Did I
offend you?”

“No.” He poked her arm. “A woman as
beautiful as you could never offend me.”

She grew warm like she always did when he
complimented her. “The party was fun. I’m glad I went.”

“I’m glad you went too.” He rubbed up
against her. “You smell good.”

She tingled, saying, “Thanks.”

“I wanted to tell you that when we were
dancing but didn’t know if it was appropriate.”

They walked to what seemed to be Cross’
favorite tree—the spot where he’d spread out the picnic for her.

She stood beside the tree. “Why do you
feel it’s appropriate to say now?”

 
“I
guess I wanted to say it so bad that I didn’t care.” He sat on the grass and
lay down, with his hands behind his head. “Come on.”

“Come on what? I’m not lying on that nasty
ground.” She touched her skirt. “I’d mess up my clothes. Plus, it’s
disgusting.”

“Who cares if you mess up your clothes?” He
leaned up on his elbow. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment to meet the
Obamas.”

Layla smirked. “Funny.”

He grabbed her and pulled her to the
ground. She stumbled as he pulled.

She continued to fight, “Cross.”

“Lie down and stop whining.”

He lay back down as she straightened out
beside him.

Layla was in awe as she looked up at the
sky. “Look at all those stars.”

“
Mmm
hmm.” Cross
pointed to them. “That’s why I like to come out here at night. I love looking
at the stars. I told you I was an outside person.”

The stars collided together, presenting a
chaotic collage of bright dots.

“It’s so beautiful,” Layla said.

“So are you.”

She wiggled against the grass. “Cross,
stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop saying I’m beautiful.”

“Why?” He propped up his leg. “You
are
.”

She turned over on her side, facing him. “How
come you don’t ever talk about yourself?”

He kept his gaze on the stars. “What do
you mean?”

“Every time we’re together, we talk about
me.” She put her hand under her head. “How come you don’t talk about
your
life?”

“I don’t know.” He turned over on his side
and faced her. “You got the prettiest dark brown eyes.”

“Don’t change the subject.” She pinched
his arm. “Tell me something about you. Tell me about your childhood.”

“I spent most of my childhood in foster
homes.”

“You didn’t have parents?”

“I was with my mom until I was eight. She
was an alcoholic. She could barely take care of herself, so she certainly
didn’t know what to do with a bipolar kid. She was afraid of me when I started
having the mood swings.”

“What about your father?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I never
met the man, and my mom didn’t even know his name.”

“What?”

He hunched one shoulder. “He was just some
guy she screwed one night when she was drunk, like she always was.”

“Are you serious? Your mother didn’t know
your father’s
name
?”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t joke about
something like this, Layla.”

“Cross.” She stroked his arm. “I’m so
sorry. It must be horrible, not knowing anything about your father. Do you even
know if he’s in Houston?”

“I don’t know anything about him. He could
sit right next to me, and I wouldn’t know him.”

She studied his empty expression. “That’s
so sad.”

“Hey, I’ve accepted it.” Then he made a
silly face.

“Here you go again. I’m starting to think
you use jokes and laughter so you don’t have to deal with things. I’ve noticed
that about you.”

“I just like to have fun. Life is too
short.”

“You were taken from your mom when you
were eight?”

“No, she gave me to the system. I told you
she was scared of me, and I don’t think she ever wanted a kid anyway. Being a
foster kid wasn’t bad at all. You know how on TV they make it sound like foster
families are always abusive or something?”

She nodded.

“That’s not true. There are many great
foster families. I lived with three different families. One was a black family.”
He chuckled. “Now
that
was fun.”

She smiled. “I’m glad you had a good
experience, at least.”

“When I turned eighteen, I went to college.
The rest is history.”

“Do you see your mother?”

“Yeah, she lives on Post Oak. We talk on
the phone now and then. We’re cool.” He scratched his head. “I don’t harbor any
bad feelings toward her. She had her own sickness. How could I expect her to
handle mine?”

“I’ve heard it can be rough being bipolar.”

“It’s very hard to deal with. One minute
you’re happier than can be, and the next you’re so angry you feel like you’ll
bust. Then you get so depressed that you wanna just lock yourself away and
forget everything and everyone.”

“It’s a different kind of rollercoaster,”
Layla whispered. “I think of schizophrenia as being like a rollercoaster
because you can’t control it.”

“People
choose
to get on rollercoasters. We didn’t choose to be bipolar or
schizophrenic.”

“You know how you said you investigated me
when I first got here? I’ve been asking around about you. You’ve been here six
months, and no one feels you need to be. I’ve heard the doctors would’ve
released you three months ago. What’s the deal, Cross?” She leaned up. “Why are
you here? Are you afraid to go back into the world? I can understand if you are,
but you can’t hide in here forever.”

He looked away. “I’m not hiding.”

“Yes, you are.” She put her hand on his
cheek and turned his head toward her. “You don’t have to be afraid. You’re an
extraordinary man. I’m convinced you can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Maybe I am scared.” He touched her hand
that lay on his cheek. “It’s funny that I can give others insight and
confidence. But when it comes to myself, I’m afraid of falling off that horse
again. I want a sure thing this time, Layla. I wanna know that things will be
all right.”

“There are no sure things when you have a mental
illness.” She took her hand from his face. “That’s what’s so hard to accept.
You need to get out of here and live your life, Cross. That’s what I’m gonna
do.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be so scared if I knew I
had someone on the outside who understood how it feels to go through things.”

“You do have someone like that.” She put
her hand in his. “Me.”

“You promise?”

 
“I
promise.”

He pulled her close as if he’d kiss her.

When he stopped, Layla asked, “What is
it?”

“I forgot you said you didn’t want me to
kiss you.”

“I never said that.” She stroked his hair.
“I said I wasn’t ready for a relationship. I never said I didn’t want a kiss.”

“You…” He turned toward her. “…you want me
to kiss you?”

“I’m not pulling away, am I?”

He leaned over her and planted his
succulent mouth on hers.