The Billionaire's Reluctant Pregnant Bride: A BWWM Romance (15 page)

He winks. “Coming right up.”

I get out of line and take my seat by one of the aqua couches by the door. Kate should be getting here soon. I stare absently out the window. It’s such a bright day. I reflect on how blessed I’ve been. My family is so supportive—
both
of them. I got a new sister and mother in addition to a new love. The flood of memories that have been rushing back sometimes scare me, but I’m happy for that too. I can’t wait to start the next chapter of my life.

“Tachell?”

I look to my side to find a beautiful man with mocha colored skin and a shaved head. His chocolate brown eyes grow glassy as he takes me in.

Since I came here so often, it isn’t surprising that someone would recognize me. I was going to have to get used to this as I got out more.

“Hi,” I say warmly.

He gulps, taking a seat next to me. “It’s true, isn’t it? You don’t remember anything.”

“Sorry, I don’t. Who are you?”

“Your mother has been screening your calls. Your brother has been determining who it’s alright for you to see and who you shouldn’t see. They have been keeping us apart.”

Oookay. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to start at the beginning. Who are you?”

“Clarence,” he whispers.

Oh. “So
you
cheated on me.”

“I am so sorry, baby,” he whispers, going in for a hug. I scoot down to the end of the couch, putting up my hand. Thankfully, he takes the hit and stays on his side.

“Tachell,” he croons, “It wasn’t my fault. I just didn’t feel like we had what we used to have. You were so distant, so focused on your work. I missed you. I only went to her because I loved you so much.”

Alright. This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve never heard in my life. I mean, maybe I had before I got amnesia, but I
sure as shit
hope that’s not the case because
this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in my life.

I cheated on you because I loved you so much? Really? REALLY!?!?!?!?

Did I mention that this was the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in my life? Because, guess what.
It’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in my life!

If the pizza here didn’t smell so damn good, I woulda lost my appetite.

“Look, I can explain—”

I stand. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Tachell—”

“No, really, I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t feel anything for you, okay? I don’t know what we had before because I don’t remember, and thank God I don’t, because it makes me sick to think that you might have used a line like that on me in the past and that it might have worked.”

“Don’t be stubborn, baby.”

“Yeah. I’m stubborn. Stubborn enough to not take back a cheating, lying, sack of shit. Good day, sir.” I cross my arms over my chest.

Just then, tattooed sexy pizza man behind the counter shows up, a rag over his shoulder, frowning, meaning business. “This guy bothering you, Tachell?”

“Hey, I’m a customer,” Clarence says.

“Yeah,” tattooed sexy pizza man replies, “And I don’t like it when people bug my other customers. You got ten seconds before I throw your ass out of here.”

“Tachell,” Clarence cries desperately.

“Nine,” Asian dude says.

“I know you’re with him! Preston Easterbrook,” he sneers. “You don’t know what you’re getting into! You don’t remember what that man did to you! Did to
us!”

I know I shouldn’t ask. I know it’s stupid. But I have this nagging feeling that this guy might know something that I haven’t been told yet. Preston keeps saying he’s so bad, and I just don’t see it. Despite myself, I ask. “What do you mean? What did he do?”

“He kicked you out of your own apartment!” he yells. “He has been trying to control you your entire life, but you just don’t see it. I know you don’t like being restricted, Tachell. I know you deserve better than me, but shit, you deserve better than him too!”

Just when I’m about to tell him to stuff it, I remember.

Oh God.

He’s right.

Not about me taking him back. Clarence can go to hell.

But he’s right about Preston Easterbrook.

The man is a manipulative asshole. He’s been trying to control me for years.

And once, he’d succeeded.

Chapter 18

Tachell - Memory

It’s so hot outside it’s like I’m walking through chicken noodle soup. My hair is a mess. Those hours I spent a few days ago at the salon? Oh, big waste. I’m tempted to shave my head. Maybe wear a scarf. I think I could pull it off.

I wonder if Clarence would be into it. But, no. He likes it when I take the time to make my hair look nice. In fact, if I didn’t straighten it, he complained. Men could be so difficult to deal with. But I shouldn’t complain. Things weren’t perfect between us, but they were nice. And, most importantly, I trusted him.

I walk up to the small apartment we share. It’s been difficult. I’ve been working two jobs—one a as a waitress, one doing data entry for a stock brokerage firm—and on top of that, trying to find to time to paint. I’ve been painting a lot at home, which makes it hard for Clarence. He’s been job hunting and he still hasn’t found anything. When I’m painting at home, he complains because he says it takes up too much of my free time. Sometimes, he even says I should just give it up, settle down, get a nice office job somewhere. I could be a good secretary. It would be easy. Less stressful. I’d have more time to spend with him.

I know he means well, but painting was my dream and I wasn’t going to give it up. The fact that he kept trying to get me to give it up was one of the few strains in our relationship.

Well, actually there were a few others.

Like the fact that he felt like dishwashing was demeaning to him, so he wouldn’t take the job, but I had been through all that and was now a waitress. Things felt uneven sometimes. But I loved him, and I know that he loved me. We were going to work it out.

I walk up to the glass doors of my apartment and try to buzz myself in.

It doesn’t work.

What the hell?

I use the intercom and ask the front desk. “Hey, Karen?”

“Is that you, Tachell sweetie?”

I frown. Her voice is still sweet as usual, but it sounds a bit strained.

“Yeah. I’m trying to get in and I can’t.”

I hear a sigh. “I’ll come down. One second.”

Why won’t she just buzz me in? Before I can ask, the line’s dead. I hop from foot to foot as I wait for her. Finally, I see her coming down the stairs. She opens the door but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I tried to call you at work, but couldn’t get through. Clarence said that you were at work. Unfortunately, your phone isn’t working—”

Yeah. It was disconnected a few weeks ago. We were even having trouble making rent, but thanks to this new data entry job we’d be fine for a few more months.

“What’s up?” I ask.

She takes a seat in one of the chairs in the lobby. “You might want to sit down for this, hun.”

I do take a seat, but I can’t help but ask, “Why?”

“The building sold.”

“What? When?”

“Last night. Apparently, the new owner ran an inspection this morning and found contraband in your room.”

Oh shit!
“What?”

“A hamster.”

Alright, everyone knew I had a hamster. I let him run around in his little ball in the hallways. “What the hell? This is about Ivy?”

She nods.

“But Ivy is fine!”

“Ivy’s not fine, not according to the lease you signed.”

“But everyone knew about Ivy. There’s never been a problem.”

“That was the old owner. Not the new one, Easterbrook Management.”

Easterbrook! My eyes fly open.

“Tachell?” she asks, obviously concerned by my sudden rage.

“Don’t worry. I’m gonna fix this,” I tell her, standing.

I leave the building and bust out my phone.
Oh, he was gonna get it!

I pace as it rings once. Twice. Oh, the bastard’s going to make me wait, now? He knew I would call him. Is he dodging me?

“Hello Tachell.” I hear his voice, sinful as chocolate. The kind of voice that always seems to elude to something dark and carnal, even when he’s saying banal shit like
hello
to someone he just evicted.

Not that I’m noticing, because I’m not. He isn’t sexy, and he isn’t making me think about sex. Especially not sex with him. I’m merely explaining how other girls react. It’s purely an observation.

I scowl. “So you know it’s me,” I say in an accusatory tone. “You were expecting my call.”

“I have caller ID.”

Well, duh. Most people did.
Do not get distracted.
“What the fuck are you trying to do?”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about—kicking me out of my apartment!”

“Is this about the rodent infestation in my newest acquisition, 35C?”

“It’s a hamster!”

“It’s a rodent. It could get out, breed, and take over the building.”

Take over the building? Did he really think that the plotline to a shitty B horror film could play out in one of his apartments? “Its a
hamster
. It would have to find another
hamster
. And it’s adorable. You’d only be so lucky to have a hamster infestation!”

“I’m sure that the city’s public safety and health committee would love to hear your theory.”

I actually stomp my foot and raise my fist to the sky. “You can’t do this to me!”

“Look, I understand that you are upset.”

“No shit I’m upset!”

“Look,” he continues professionally, “there is an apartment I have that allows hamsters. You could move in today.”

I frown, lowering my fist. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. It’s a bit out of your price range, but since I evicted you and you need a place to stay, I am willing to pay the difference.”

“I’m not taking a handout from you!”

“Don’t think of it as charity. I’m simply making it right.”

“I still don’t believe you. There’s something else going on here. Why not just let me stay in my own apartment?”

“Well, there is one thing. It’s not so much of a catch as a technicality.”

I grit my jaw. “What is it?”

“You can’t have anyone else on the lease.”

“What the hell?”

“So your boyfriend will have to find other accommodations.”

Why the hell does he sound so smug about this? Why does he sound so
proud?
“What is your deal with Clarence?” I hiss.

“He’s not good enough for you.”

“And how is that any of your business?”

“I’m your brother’s best friend. I have your best interests at heart.”

“Which is why you’re kicking me out of my apartment. Because
this
is what’s best for me.”

“I’m only kicking you out if your boyfriend is with you.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You want to control my sex life because you’re a fucking control freak!”

“I don’t want to control your sex life.”

“Liar.” It totally sounds like he’d love to do just that.

“I’m not going to give you away to someone unless he’s worthy of you. Clarence is not. He’s a drain on your heart and your art and you know it. You’d be much better off without him.”

“That is not for you to decide. I’m in love with Clarence.”

Preston sighs. “Maybe, but he doesn’t deserve your love.”

“Oh, and you know who does?”

“I know it isn’t him! If you don’t like this arrangement, you and Clarence can always move in with your brother.”

WHAT??? I hang up. “Fuck!” I yell, just barely suppressing the urge to throw my phone through the front window of my apartment building—well, ex apartment building.

No. I can’t do that. It will just make me look like an impulsive asshat. Instead, I had to expose the true impulsive asshat.

Preston Easterbrook.

He was having lunch at
Red Cloud
, the hottest sushi restaurant in town
,
just as he did every Tuesday. How do I know this? Because Reggie sometimes accompanied him, and I’d been invited a few times. I did not go, of course. Even the promise of free sushi couldn’t make me willingly spend a few hours with that dreadful man.

I walk right past the hostess to the back of the restaurant. She follows behind, telling me to stop. But I don’t until I’m in his private room in the back.

I rip open the screen door. Preston is sitting on a tatami mat behind a beautiful ink painting of three mountains.

“I am sorry, Mr. Easterbrook. I could not stop her,” the woman says.

“It’s fine, Sakura. I’ll take it from here.”

She looks at me. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Thank you for your concern.”

Sakura bows and backs off.

I take off my shoes, glaring as I step into the room. Slowly, I shut the sliding door behind me.

He folds his hands on top of the table. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You really gonna pull that shit with me?”

He folds his hands on his desk.