Forever An Ex (21 page)

I shook my head. “Not according to Quentin.”

“She really wanted to get away from him.”

I sighed. “I know that feeling. I know how devastated she is and that's why I want to talk to her. Because there's no need to be feeling that kind of despair. Remember, that's how Vanessa felt.”

Kendall and I sat as if we were giving our friend a moment of silence. And then, suddenly, Kendall said, “Stay right here.” She reached for her phone. She pressed a number, then I watched her smile before she stood. “Hey, it's me,” she said, turning her back so that I couldn't hear her as clearly. Then she strolled across the room; well, actually, Kendall kind of glided, because it didn't even look like her feet were touching the floor. “Can you do me a favor?” she said into her phone. A beat and then, “Can you find someone for me?” Another pause, then Kendall turned from the window and faced me. “Her name is Harmony.”

Now I frowned.

Kendall asked me, “Do you know her last name?”

I shook my head. “No, it's Mac something, but I don't remember.”

She nodded, then said, “No, we don't have a last name but she was a nurse at—”

“Cedars-Sinai,” I piped in.

Kendall repeated that and told whoever she was talking to that Harmony was from Detroit. She nodded her head a couple of times and said, “Yeah,” before she asked, “How long do you think it'll take?” A pause, and then Kendall said, “Great.” Then a few seconds afterward, she turned back to the window. And though she whispered, I still heard her say, “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

I'm telling you, all I wanted to do was jump up, grab Kendall's cell phone, and demand that whoever was on the other end identify himself.

When Kendall turned back around and did that stroll-glide thing toward me, I bunched my eyebrows together. “Who was that?”

“Someone who's going to get a number so that you can talk to Harmony.”

“What, you know someone who works for the CIA now?”

She grinned. “Almost.” Just as she tossed her cell onto the sofa, a knock came from the front door, stopping the inquisition I was about to perform. “Right on time,” Kendall said. As she danced across the living room, she spoke over her shoulder. “I ordered us lunch. We can eat on the deck.”

“Great!” I said as I watched her. This whole schoolgirl-giddy was not Kendall. And what was up with that call?

Even though I was dying to know, Kendall wasn't going to give up a thing until she was ready. But I could tell that my girl had some story. And, I couldn't wait to hear it.

 • • •

It couldn't have been more than a half an hour. I'm not kidding, not even thirty minutes had passed. Kendall and I were on the deck, snacking on grilled shrimp, crab cakes, and calamari and sipping iced tea. We hardly talked since neither one of us wanted to interrupt the music of the ocean. So we sat back and listened and watched a flock of seagulls stroll along the edge of the Pacific brine.

“Wait a minute,” I said, sitting up in the lounge chair. “Is that Catalina?” With one hand, I pointed across the bay, and with the other, I cupped my eyes to block the sun so that I could get a clear view.

“Yup,” Kendall said. “And if we stay out here long enough, we'll see a couple of dolphins out there just chillin'.”

I laughed. “You know, this is the life.”

She smiled.

“You deserve it,” I said. And then, as if I thought I might be able to get something out of her, I added, “You deserve this and so much more.”

Now a bigger smile, and just as she opened her mouth to speak, her cell phone rang.

Dang!

I watched her as she glanced down at the screen. Her joy was instant and she answered.

“You got it?” she asked. Then she nodded and handed the phone to me.

“Who is it?” I frowned.

“Harmony.”

I looked at her phone as if it were some kind of foreign object because something strange had just happened here.

“Take it,” Kendall said. “You want to talk to her, right?”

I reached across the table that was between our chairs and grabbed the phone. “Harmony?”

“Sheridan?” She sounded as surprised to hear my voice as I was to hear hers.

“Yes. I'm so glad to speak with you; I've been trying to reach you. How are you? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“Are you still in L.A. or are you in Detroit?” I asked.

There was a pause, as if she was hesitant to tell me anything. I said, “I only asked because if you were still here, I was going to say we should get together, but it's probably best if I just come out and tell you.”

“What? Has something happened to Quentin?” Her words were quick. Her concern for Quentin was so apparent.

It was clear; she still loved that man.

“No, not at all,” I rushed to tell her. “At least not in the way that you're thinking. But he's just devastated, Harmony. And it's my fault.”

“He told you that we broke up?”

“Yes, and I'm so sorry. That's not what I wanted to happen.”

“It was the only thing I could do after you told me the truth.”

“But the thing is, it wasn't the truth. I was wrong.”

A beat. “What do you mean?”

“Quentin is not with Jett.”

Another beat. “He told you to call me? He told you to tell me this?”

“No, he's probably going to kill me for calling you. And I probably should just stay out of this, but I can't because I caused it. The truth is, Jett is married. He's married to a woman.”

“What?”

“Yes. And that's why they were at Rendezvous, because the chef is Jett's friend and Quentin wanted to hire him for your wedding because he said you loved the food there.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

I could imagine the expression on her face, the way she weighed everything she'd just heard. “I know. I saw them and I jumped to a conclusion that was wrong. I should've never gone to you.”

“No, no,” she whispered. “I would've done the same thing. We're sorors.”

“I feel so bad because now I know that Quentin does love you.”

She sighed.

“Harmony, you have to give Quentin another chance.”

She didn't say anything.

“Please, at least talk to him.”

A beat, then, “I can do that. I can talk to him.” Another beat. “I'll call him.”

A wave of relief washed over me, but then I stiffened again. Would Quentin get mad if he found out that I talked to Harmony? Would Brock be mad, too? But I shook away those thoughts. I couldn't let anything stop me from doing the right thing.

“I really hope this works out for you, Harmony. I really do.”

And that was the end of our conversation. Even after Harmony hung up, I held Kendall's phone for a moment. I'd forgotten about trying to figure out how Kendall had made this connection. My thoughts were completely on what I'd just told Harmony.

“Do you think she'll listen to you?” Kendall said, getting my attention.

“I don't know.”

She took the phone from me and tilted her head. “What's wrong?”

I shook my head. “I think I did the right thing, but it doesn't feel good to me.”

“Well,” Kendall said, “you've done your part, now it's up to Quentin and Harmony.” Then her voice turned stern, and she wagged her finger at me. “But from this point on, you stay out of it, no matter what, right?”

I nodded. “I'll stay out of it, no matter what,” I said aloud. And then I repeated those words inside my head, over and over again. Repeated them until I believed them.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

I
couldn't stop thinking about Harmony.

On the entire ride home, my mind replayed our conversation. It was short, it was simple. I'd heard her relief, I'd heard her hope, and I'd heard her love for Quentin. I'd done what I had to do, right? So why was my stomach churning?

Maybe it was because I'd made all kinds of promises. Maybe it was because I knew Brock wouldn't be happy if he'd heard what I'd done. Maybe if I had the chance to do it all over again, I wouldn't have made that call and would've just left it alone.

But the deed was done and the bottom line was that I'd done the right thing.

I was still trying to convince myself of that when I pressed the garage remote, and once the door lifted, all thoughts of Quentin and Harmony left my mind. Brock's SUV was parked on the right side where it always was—when he was supposed to be home.

I checked the clock on the dashboard; it was only a little before three. Why was he home so early?

Grabbing my purse, I jumped out of the car with my keys in my hand. My husband never came home early. Something had to be wrong.

I rushed through the door that led to our house, then stopped.

Lost without you . . .

The soulful sound of Robin Thicke filled the house and the memories were instant. From the moment we were married, this was my favorite song. It was the song that we first danced to as husband and wife. Not that dance that we took in front of our wedding guests. This was the dance after everyone was gone, the dance that was for no one's eyes but ours. This was the dance we did without clothes, the dance that took me into ecstasy.

On our wedding day, we'd just said good-bye to our last guests and I was so exhausted. I had no idea how I would keep my eyes open for even another hour.

But then my new husband said, “I have a gift for you.”

We were both still decked out, me in my gown and Brock in his tux. I remember I asked him, “A gift? A wedding gift?”

He nodded, then took my hand and led me into the backyard. As we stepped outside, Robin Thicke sang through the speakers that Brock had set up in the backyard, but at that moment it wasn't the music that had my attention. It was the box that was large enough to hold a human body that sat in the center of the yard.

“What is it?” I asked.

Brock said nothing as he left me standing at the door. I watched as he opened the box and pulled out a massive mess of rope.

What in the world? That was the thought I had as I watched Brock dump the rope onto the ground, then he knelt down and began to untangle what looked like chaos.

But in only minutes, the mess became my dream. I clapped my hands like a kid at Christmas as Brock hooked the oversize hammock between the two oak trees.

“Oh, my God. You remembered.”

When we were considering which home to buy, I'd told Brock that I wanted a house with trees where I could hang a hammock and sway and sleep away the day.

But swaying and sleeping were not on my new husband's mind as he came to the door, took my hand, then led me to the hammock. Beneath those summer stars, he undressed me, slowly, planting soft kisses against every part of my skin as he disrobed me. It seemed to take too long for me, but once I was nude, I did the same to him.

Then, gently, carefully, he laid me in the hammock, and the exhaustion I'd felt a few minutes before was gone. Brock told me without singing a word how lost he'd be without me. He'd used his hands, his tongue, his legs, his . . .

Can't help myself . . .

Robin's voice interrupted my thoughts of that night and brought me back to the present. As I moved into the house, my steps matched the slow smile that spread onto my face. My glance swept through the living room, searching for my husband. But the room was empty.

How does it feel . . .

Now that I thought about it, now that I remembered our wedding night, I knew exactly where my husband was. I ran to the bedroom, and stopped at the door. My eyes searched once again, but again the room was empty. Stepping inside, I slowly walked through, peeking into the bathroom then checking inside both of our walk-in closets.

To know that I love you, baby . . .

Where was Brock?

As the song played through the surround-sound speakers throughout, I tiptoed through my home, expecting Brock to jump out of a corner at any moment.

I checked the family room. Nothing.

Lost without you . . .

I checked the bathroom. No one.

Can't help myself . . .

I checked the closets. Not a peep from Brock.

How does it feel . . .

I looked up toward the second-floor landing and placed my foot on the first step when I remembered.

Our wedding night.

My pace was slow, steady, in sync with the song as I moved toward the back of the house.

To know that I love you . . .

Inside the family room, the drapes were now open, as if Brock had been tracking me, and now he was ready to reveal where he'd been hiding. The sliding-glass door was open, too, and Robin Thicke's voice filled the backyard. Only Robin was not singing alone; he was singing a duet.

Brock sang, “‘Baby, you're the perfect shape . . .'”

He held out his hand to me and swept me into his arms. And we danced as he serenaded me.

“‘Lost without you, can't help myself, how does it feel to know that I love you, baby . . .'”

For minutes, I just swayed with him, savoring every second, locking it into my memory so that I could pull these moments from my mind when Brock was not here.

The music stopped, but Brock still held me, we still swayed, even though the song was over. But the rhythm was forever etched in our minds and we danced to our beat.

When Brock leaned over to kiss me, I was so ready to receive him. Connected, he backed me onto the hammock. And just like our wedding night, he told me once again how lost he'd be without me.

Only today, not a star twinkled overhead. Today, we made love under the bright beam of the sun.

As my husband held my hand and led me up the stairway to heaven, I thanked God that we were back. Brock and Sheridan Goodman were definitely back on track.

 • • •

We'd moved our dance into our bedroom, and now as the sun finally began its descent in the western sky, Brock and I lay together, my back to the front of him, a human spoon. I snuggled deeper into his embrace, just reveling in this time that was ours.

But in the silence, my mind was clear to hear the thoughts that had never really left me. The second guesses that now haunted me about my call to Harmony.

Should I tell Brock? I didn't want him to hear that I'd interfered from anyone else. I didn't want Quentin to once again come stomping into our home without Brock knowing first.

“Brock, there's something I want to tell you.” I rolled over to face him just as my cell phone vibrated from the nightstand. Twisting back around, I reached for it, then sat up straight when I saw my son's image.

“Christopher,” I said. “How are you?” It had only been four days since I'd spoken to my son. But when someone is upset with you, that anger made days feel like an eternity.

“I'm good, Ma. I'm good.”

There was a moment of silence and then I said, “I just want to say,” just as Christopher said the exact same words.

We both stopped. We both laughed. And Brock smiled.

Then my husband motioned toward the bathroom before he jumped from the bed.

“So, Ma, you go first.”

My ear was pressed to the phone, but my eyes were on my husband and his butt. His naked butt as he strutted into the bathroom. Even butt-naked my husband had so much swag. Naked swag. Nothing. But. Naked. Swag.

“Ma?”

“Oh! What? Sorry! I was distracted for a moment.”

My son repeated, “I said you go first. 'Cause you raised me right, and I always know, ladies first.”

That made me smile. “I just wanted to apologize for everything.”

“That's what I was gonna say, too,” Christopher said. “I shouldn't have gotten mad at you. I was just mad 'cause I knew Dad was hurt. But I need to leave that between the two of you. That's grown folks' business, right?”

I laughed. “Right. So . . .” I paused for a second. “Does this mean that you and Evon will reconsider and have your wedding?”

“No, Ma. And it's not because of you. All the planning, the wedding, it was just getting too big and Evon and I really want to do it this way.”

“Okay.”

“Don't be disappointed, Ma.”

I guess he heard how I really felt.

He said, “We're just gonna go off next weekend, and when we get back, we'll take you and Brock out to dinner.”

That was not enough of a consolation prize for me, but I said, “Okay,” anyway.

“Think of all the money you're saving.”

“That was never a problem.”

“I know,” Christopher said. “Then think about how much happier I am doing it this way.”

“And that's all I want . . . for you and Evon to be happy.”

“I am, Ma. Listen, I've got to make this run, but I'll catch you later.”

“Okay, I love you.”

When Christopher told me the same, I clicked off my cell, leaned back against the headboard, and smiled. I was still looking at the phone when Brock came into the bedroom.

“So, Chris is good?”

Again, my eyes took my mind away for just a moment, but I came back quickly. I did my best to look into Brock's eyes and not focus on other parts of him. I nodded. “We're back on track.”

Brock nodded as if he knew that I was talking about him
and
Christopher. My husband pulled me into his arms, but then leaned away from me.

“Oh, before Chris called, you said there was something you wanted to tell me.”

I looked into his eyes, thought about the call from my son, and brought my lips to his.

“Hmm . . .” he moaned.

And that was where I was going to leave it. I wasn't going to say a thing. Whatever happened with Harmony and Quentin was just going to happen. I just prayed that me and mine had been drawn into their lives for the very last time.