Never Again Once More

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Authors: Mary B. Morrison

BOOK: Never Again Once More
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Also by Mary B. Morrison
SOUL MATES DISSIPATE
WHO’S MAKING LOVE
JUSTICE JUST US JUST ME
Never Again Once More
MARY B. MORRISON
DAFINA BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
http://www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
This novel is dedicated to my soul mate Pernell Bursey, to everyone who does not know his or her biological parents, and to my niece Delisia Melvina Noel. Although another family adopted you, Delisia, we pray one day you’ll know you have an entire family who loves you, especially your mother—my sister—Debra Noel. Your adoptive parents asked that we have no contact with you, and we’ve honored that request. Your birth given name was changed, and unfortunately we don’t know your new name. Delisia, you have a wonderfully humorous brother Omar, four aunts, two uncles, fifteen first cousins, and, of course, your mother eagerly waiting to bond with you, my love.
Acknowledgments
I give thanks to God for blessing me with the courage to pursue my literary passion. Each time the road ahead darkens, the Lord sends my guardian angels to shine a redeeming light, reminding me my humanitarian purpose is forever greater than myself. I express gratitude for Reverend Dr. Elouise D. Oliver and my Oakland East Bay Church of Religious Science family for guidance and motivation.
Thanks to my wonderful son, Jesse Bernard Byrd, Jr., for his unconditional love and support. To the superwoman who catapulted my dream into a reality, I’m eternally grateful for my editor, Karen Thomas. I must thank my agent and backbone, Claudia Menza, for never being too busy. I immensely appreciate my Kensington family: Walter Zacharius, Steven Zacharius, Laurie Parkin, Joan Schulhafer, Jessica Ricketts, and Mary Pomponio, thanks a million.
A special love note is extended to one of the world’s greatest writers, E. Lynn Harris. Thanks for your quote, but more importantly I value your unsolicited kindness and words of encouragement through my former self-publishing endeavor and present novelist career.
When all I had was my poetry book,
Justice Just Us Just Me,
God sent me a best friend and brilliant publicist, Felicia Polk. After
Soul Mates Dissipate
was released, He blessed me with Rodrick Smith, and no greater duo than Smith and Polk exists in public relations. I also thank L. Peggy Hicks of TriCom for organizing my tour, because she is the top diva of literary promotions. I thank my supporters: Patrik Henry Bass of
Essence
magazine, Glenn R. Townes of
Upscale
magazine, Dr. Jeff of WLIB, Cliff and Janine of KJLH, and a host of others.
I love each of my siblings with all my heart. Thanks for being my foundation: Wayne, Andrea, Derrick, and Regina Morrison, Margie Rickerson, and Debra Noel.
I’m blessed to have fantastic friends. Thanks to Bennie Allen, Linda Gayle Brown, Michaela Burnett, Marilyn Edge, Kendra Hill, Vanessa Ibanitoru, Brenda Jackson, Naleighna Kai, Gloria Mallette, Marcus Major, Karen E. Quinones-Miller, Carmen Polk, Exavier B. Pope, E. C. Rhodes, Ronald Salaam, Joseph Smith, Simone Smith, Carl Weber, Kenneth Williams, and my mentor, Vyllorya A. Evans, for your unwavering support.
Last but sincerely not least, I thank the distributors, booksellers, book clubs, and you the reader because you are the wind beneath my words.
And so it is,
Mary Beatrice Morrison
Prologue
W
hat did love have to do with anything?
If Jada Diamond Tanner had the answer, she’d be richer. After parting from her soul mate, no relationship was quite the same, including her ten years of marriage to Lawrence Anderson. While her body moved forward pushing her life ahead, Jada’s spirit remained with Wellington. Like a child insistent upon staying with his father after a divorce, her spirit said, “Naw, you go ahead. I’ll wait right here for you.” Although Jada loved Wellington, his infidelity rendered love insufficient to preserve their engagement.
Whosoever said, “If you love something, set it free. If it returns . . .” must have not known Wellington Jones. Not as Jada did. He tasted like a sweet caramel candy square slowly melting in her mouth, trickling down her throat into the depth of her intestines, flowing through her bloodstream into her receptor cells. He was her life-support system. Undeniably, his rib had become a permanent part of her anatomy. Each of her taste buds savored the richness of all his bodily fluids. Whenever their lips merged and their tongues danced to rapid heartbeats, Altoids’ wintergreen freshness iced her insides like frozen sickles embracing a snow-covered roof. With magical touches, Wellington’s mere presence sent chills up Jada’s spine.
If you love something, set it free. Set it free
echoed repeatedly. Day after day the words rebounded like a basketball bouncing off the edge of the rim. Less than an inch away from scoring, Jada had desperately wanted to reunite with her soul mate, but couldn’t find the emotional fortitude. Year upon year
set it free
resounded.
The best sex they had shared came after their first relationship-threatening argument. The warmth of his nine-inch rod penetrating her moist womanhood was all of a sudden a memory. But near the end, Jada had to credit Wellington for trying to keep her when he asked, “Where do we go from here?”
She had already given their unresolved issues countless consideration. The most logical solution remained the same, so Jada stood firm on her final decision and replied, “I’m still in love with you, Wellington. You will always have a place in my heart. I don’t know where we go from here. But I do know I’ve renewed my lease on life. I have a business to start and a plane to catch to Los Angeles. Maybe I’ll call you. Maybe I won’t.” Watching Wellington walk out of her Oakland Hills penthouse for the last time was by far the hardest thing she’d ever done.
Jada was adamant, but when she boarded that plane the next day, she could have worn a white straight jacket instead of a black leather blazer. The more she told herself, “Don’t call him. Be strong,” the weaker she’d become. Both of her Myers-Briggs personality tests—taken five years apart—resulted in an ISTP (Introverted, Sensing, Thinking, Perceiving) rating. Jada was a terrific analyst and businesswoman, and great at following up on unresolved issues. Diva should have been highlighted as one of her qualitative traits. Even the “Brain Works” test rated Jada perfectly balanced. Maybe she was too balanced. Her left brain discounted the right, and her right conflicted with the left, which explained why she had such difficulty deciding whether or not to stay with Wellington. Professional decisions were much easier than personal choices.
Trying to bamboozle her way out of depression, Jada initiated conversation with the elderly man seated next to her in first class. The moment the aircraft landed and the captain turned off the fasten seat belt sign, she powered up her cellular phone. The left brain keyed in zero zero one to call Wellington so the right brain could tell him she’d be on the next plane back to Oakland to be with him forever, but she was obsessively thinking and couldn’t convince herself to press the talk button. Jada’s heart grew so heavy at times she could hardly breathe. Short, quick, and frequent intakes of oxygen accompanied mucus buildup in her nostrils that intensified tears, migraines, and nausea.
Had she ended their relationship to avoid looking foolish? Jada’s best friend Candice had warned her Wellington couldn’t be trusted. Jada masked a happy face because Candice was meeting her at the gate at LAX, and Candice harbored no sympathy for her breakup with Wellington. Would Candice have accepted the same advice about Terrell? No man had ever slam-dunked Jada, and she wasn’t about to let Wellington set a precedent.
Before Jada could yell, “Time out!” the referee—Wellington’s evil mother Cynthia Elaine Jones—called a foul on her when it should have been a charge because Melanie Marie Thompson knocked her down, ran her over, and literally scored with her man. And Broom Hilda had twitched her nose to cover up a lie because she wasn’t Wellington’s biological mother; the lying bitch was his aunt. Allen Iverson stripped his opponents over a hundred times in the playoffs, but this wasn’t the frickin’ NBA. Stealing was a crime. So why did Jada feel as if she was the one serving the life sentence?
By moving from Oakland to the Los Angeles area—over five hundred miles away from the scene of the crime—hopefully her emotional wounds would mend. As she faced every challenge, Jada had grown secure knowing Wellington was only a phone call away. The distance that existed between them: one hour by plane, five and a half by car, one heartbeat by spirit. Close enough but yet far enough, too.
Jada ignored the voice inside her head that whispered, “Go back. Take that chance on love because life is one huge risk, and each day you screw up, if the Lord allows you to see another, you have at least one more opportunity to get it right. Your entire existence is an audition, and you are forever rehearsing until you take your final bow.” A melody interjected, “Don’t wanna be a fool never again.” Luther Vandross’s lyric was emotionally correct. No way was Jada going to bend her backbone and flop into Wellington’s arms like a desperate woman afraid she’d never find another man to worship her inner beauty as though she were a true Nubian queen and make love to her sweeter than all the chocolate in Willy Wonka’s factory.
Like liquid cement solidifying, Wellington’s renewed loyalty gradually reinforced their foundation. Over time they became very best friends. Secrets that should have been shared only with God, Jada also confided in Wellington—except one thing.

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