Forever An Ex (17 page)

Chapter

Twenty-Four

T
his was the absolute best part of my life.

That was my thought as I glanced across the dining room table at Evon. What a wonderful Sunday this had been. Church, and then I spent the afternoon with my future daughter-in-law while Brock and Christopher hung out together.

Perfect peace.

Well, except for that little bit of dread that still hung over me—that dread that was all about Harmony.

It had been eleven days since I'd met with her and I was still genuinely worried. Some of it had to do with her being my soror, but most of it was because I knew the sorrow that she was probably going through. I could imagine her pain as she made her decision about what she was going to do.

All I could do was pray for her. Just about every day. I prayed that she found a place of happiness, whether that place was with Quentin or not.

“So, do you really like the design?” my future daughter-in-law asked me.

I took myself away from my thoughts and once again studied the sketch that Evon held out for me to see. I already knew that this child was talented, but I guess I didn't know how much.

My son's fiancée was a Harvard-degreed fashion designer who'd already started her own label and sold her designs to small boutiques. She was having more than modest success, was making a name for herself throughout California, and had already received two offers from major designers to intern on their teams. But she'd optioned to stay independent, and as I stared at the dress she'd designed for me, I knew why. This jeweled one-shoulder, Empire-waisted chiffon piece was just gorgeous.

“It's beautiful,” I said. “My very own LaCroix design.”

She filled the room with her smile.

“I'm just a little worried, though,” I said.

Evon always glowed like she was the personification of sunshine, but right then that smile faded away. “What? Is there something you don't like? I can change anything. I really want you to be happy. This is all about you and . . .” She talked so fast, she didn't give me a chance to say anything.

“Wait, hold on.” I laughed. “I don't want you to change a thing. I'm just worried that this dress is so amazing that I might outshine the bride, and I don't want to do that.”

“Oh.” She exhaled and laughed with me. Then, more seriously, she asked, “Do you want to see my dress?”

“Have you finished it already?”

“Just about, but I have a sketch here.” She reached into the portfolio that rested on the chair.

“I thought you didn't want anyone to see your dress before the wedding.”

“I don't,” she said as she pulled out another sketch pad. “But you and my mom aren't in that group.” She smiled when she turned to me. “I want you to see it.”

Now, I'd seen my share of amazing wedding dresses: Vera Wang, Carolina Herrera, and plenty of others. But this sleeveless sweetheart neckline, with the fitted jeweled corset bodice, coupled with the flowing satin skirt was by far the most beautiful wedding dress I'd ever seen.

In that moment I imagined the whole scene that was two and a half months away: Evon walking slowly down the aisle as Christopher stood at the altar. If I was crying now, I'd be a blubbering fool on that day. And I couldn't wait!

“Do you like it?”

It was only when I heard her voice that I realized I hadn't said anything. I turned to Evon and didn't care one bit that I was crying. “It's so beautiful. You're going to be a gorgeous bride.”

“I hope so,” she said. Even though tears made her eyes glisten, Evon still wore that smile and lit up the dining room. “I can't wait to get married.”

“Every little girl's dream, right?”

I was surprised when she shook her head. “It wasn't mine. I wasn't sure that I would ever get married.”

“Really?” I said. That was hard for me to imagine. I would've thought this gorgeous chocolate young lady had guys falling at her feet. Her beauty was natural—from the long locks that hug beyond her shoulder to the smooth richness of her skin. No part of her was fake; not her hair, her nails, the color of her eyes. What young man wouldn't want a beauty like her?

“I didn't date much,” she said. “To be honest, I didn't date at all. I went out here and there, but the guys all saw me as super-religious since I wasn't having sex. And on top of that, I was the nerdy, smart girl who would rather study than go out anyway.”

“Oh,” I said, hating the fact that there had ever been any unhappiness in her life. I knew that she'd had it tough growing up in one of the roughest areas of Oakland. It was just her and her mom, who worked many minimum-wage jobs to give Evon everything that she could.

“But it was okay,” Evon said as if she knew some of the sorrow I was feeling for her. “I was blessed. I was never bullied or anything. It wasn't that the kids didn't like me; it was just that I wasn't noticed all that much. Christopher is my first real boyfriend and I can't believe that we're getting married. He's made me so happy, Mrs. Goodman.”

I wondered if my son knew how blessed he was. I had a feeling that he did since I'd raised him right. “You know what? We're going to have to do something about that.”

Her eyebrows almost came together; she didn't have a clue as to what I was talking about.

I said, “About you calling me ‘Mrs. Goodman.' I think I'd prefer ‘Mom,' if that's all right with you.”

A beat passed and then suddenly, Evon raised her hands and pulled me into a tight hug, and I held her, too. I already had two of the best children in the world. It was amazing to me that God felt that I deserved the blessing of a third.

When she released me, the tears that had been teetering in the corners of her eyes spilled out and rolled down her cheeks.

I laughed. “Okay, we're gonna have to get cleaned up,” I said, using my thumbs to softly wipe away her tears. “Or else my husband and your future husband will come in here and wonder what in the world has us sitting here sobbing like babies.”

“I know.” She laughed, too. “It's just that all of this is so special to me. You helping me plan the wedding, and especially you and Mr. Goodman helping us pay for it. Christopher and I were just going to go away and—”

I held up my hand, stopping her. “That was never going to happen as long as I am the mother. Brock and I are thrilled to help you and Christopher. This is our gift to you.”

“Thank you.” Her voice was filled with gratitude.

Glancing at my watch, I said, “Brock and Christopher should be back any minute.”

“Do you think they found Mr. Goodman's tux?”

“I'm sure they did, though I had a feeling they just wanted an excuse to go out shopping. But even if they didn't find it, there's still plenty of time.” I patted her hand. “Don't worry about that.” Pushing back from the chair, I said, “I'm going to dash and change so I'll be ready to go when they get back. I'm starving.”

“Me, too! And Crustaceans is one of my favorite restaurants.”

Yup, this was the absolute best part of my life. A day with my daughter-in-law and then dinner with the four of us. What could be better?

Just as I stood, the doorbell rang.

“Brock must've forgotten his key,” I said as I rushed to the door. My face had to be covered with all the joy I felt from spending this time with Evon when I pulled the door open. “What happened?” I began. But then my smile went straight away.

Quentin stood on the other side of the threshold with a scowl so deep I half expected him to start roaring. He stomped past me, pushing his way into my home.

“I cannot believe you, Sheridan!” he shouted.

“Quentin.” I only said his name to give me some time to think. Because it didn't take any special kind of intelligence to figure out why Quentin was in my home on the edge of rage.

“I cannot believe you did this to me,” he yelled. “Do you really hate me this much? Did our divorce affect you so much that you've turned into a vindictive . . .” He paused and the name he wanted to call me rested right on the tip of his tongue. I was sure the only thing that stopped him was that I was the mother of his children.

My heart hammered against my chest so hard I had to take a couple of quick inhales to keep breathing. “Quentin.” All I could think to say was his name.

It wasn't until this moment that I realized I hadn't played this tape all the way through. I didn't know why it hadn't occurred to me that Quentin would one day come knocking on my door. I don't know, maybe I thought that Harmony wouldn't tell him where she'd heard about him and Jett. Or maybe I thought that he would never come over here, because what would he say? He couldn't be mad at the truth.

Finally, I said, “What are you talking about?” just to give me more time. To figure it out and see what he knew.

His face stretched like my words surprised him. “Is that how you're going to play this? Like you don't know what's going on? Well, let me tell you,” he said, taking two steps closer to me.

The anger in his eyes made me take two steps back. But I could smell the stench of his fury. Over Quentin's shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Evon, standing in the cut between the dining room and the entryway. She was so still that it was only because she was standing that I figured she was still breathing. Her ever-present smile was gone, though her eyes were still bright. But now they shined with tears and fear.

I needed to calm Quentin down, but he moved back and forth, stomping hard, like he was digging a ditch with his feet.

He screamed, “I'm talking about you going to Harmony and telling her some nonsense about me and Jett.”

Well, the jig was definitely up now. Not that I didn't already know what Quentin was talking about. But I knew now that it wasn't just some theory on his part. He had all the facts.

“Quentin, calm down,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I leaned and glanced over his shoulder, giving him the hint that we were not alone.

He turned, saw Evon, but then turned back to me as if seeing her meant nothing. Her presence didn't do anything to calm or soothe him.

“I cannot believe this, Sheridan. I cannot believe you told Harmony to leave me!”

“Whoa!” I said, holding up my hands. “I never told Harmony that.”

He stomped right up to me and pointed his finger in my face. “You're a liar. You know what you did, you b—”

“Uh, Quentin, you need to slow your roll and back up off my wife.”

I don't think there'd ever been a time when I'd been so happy to hear my husband's voice. Turning around, I saw him, holding two shopping bags that he gently, slowly placed on the floor. His eyes were stuck on Quentin, and the way my husband moved, so deliberately, I knew that if my ex made one wrong move, Brock would be all over him.

Christopher stood next to Brock, frozen for a moment. Then he rushed to Evon. “Are you okay?” he asked as he pulled her into his arms.

She nodded, but didn't say a word. I wasn't surprised. She was in such a state of shock she probably would be mute for weeks.

“What's going on here?” Brock said, coming to my side.

“Ask your wife,” Quentin barked.

All eyes turned to me. And I had no idea what to say.

Brock said, “Sheridan?”

I knew I had to speak then. I said, “Quentin's under the impression that I had something to do with him and Harmony breaking up. But I didn't.”

“Oh, really, Sheridan?” The way he shouted, everyone faced Quentin. “You're going to stand here and lie?” He turned from me and looked at Brock. “Just so you know that I'm not crazy, Harmony told me that your wife met with her just so she could tell Harmony that I was involved with Jett.”

The eyes shifted again; every pair was back to me. If I could've, I would've clicked my heels three times and headed to Kansas.

It was Brock's stare that I felt the most. His brows framed the confusion in his eyes. “Sheridan?”

“Let me explain,” I said quickly. “Harmony called
me
,” I told Quentin, because Brock already knew that part. “At first, I told her no.” That statement
was
meant for Brock. “But then she called again and I felt so sorry for her. She was confused, she needed someone to talk to. So we met.”

“And you told her to leave me.”

“No! All I told her that day was that you were a good man.” I paused. “Ask her, she'll tell you that's what I said.”

“So then how did you get from there to where you told her to leave me?”

“I never told her that.”

“You told her that I was having an affair with Jett.”

“I didn't say that either. I just told her that I saw the two of you together.” When Quentin gave me a bitter chuckle, I added, “I told her that I saw you at Rendezvous.”

Brock moaned, and I knew the two of us were going to have a big discussion tonight. But the thing was, everybody could be mad if they wanted to, but all I'd done was report what I'd seen. Quentin was back with Jett and he was playin' Harmony just like he'd played me.

“I just told her the truth,” I added, and glared at Quentin. I was tired of standing there being the one who was wrong. “She'd been wondering if you were still gay, if you would be with a man again. And I just told her what I knew.”

“You don't know anything!” Quentin said. He closed his eyes, held his head in his hands for a moment, then released a long breath. He pointed his finger at me, but then put his hand down when Brock took a step forward. With a much softer voice, he said, “I shouldn't have to explain myself to anyone.” He looked from me to Brock, then to Christopher and Evon. “But it seems that no matter what I do . . .” He paused and I swore there were tears in his eyes. He looked straight at me. “I'm not with Jett. Jett's married.”