The Ex Files (9 page)

“Watch it, Kendall.”

“Where was God when Sabrina and Anthony were f—”

Before she could say the word, Edwin held up his hand, stopped her from cursing. “I won’t have that kind of language in here, young lady. I won’t tolerate it and neither will God.”

“Like I care what God thinks.”

“You think God wasn’t there when it first happened with Sabrina and Anthony? I can tell you that God was right there, saddened by the whole thing. Just like He was there when your mother and I went through our problems. But God can heal. He was the reason your mother and I stayed together.”

“Bad example, Daddy, because obviously God didn’t do as good a job for me.”

“He’s still there for you. He’ll give you the strength to handle this.”

“I don’t need God.” She grabbed her purse. “I don’t need anyone.”

“How can you say that? When you were raised with Him?”

She marched to the door.

He said, “So you prefer to hold on to your anger?”

She paused, her hand on the doorknob. “It’s no longer anger, Daddy. It’s hate.” The door crashed against the wall as she swung it open. “You’d better tell Sabrina to stay far away from me.”

Inside her car, she couldn’t steady her hands; the steering wheel shook with her emotions. She sat, staring at the home where she’d once felt so much love.

The living room curtains fluttered; her father came into view. She turned the ignition and backed out of the driveway, screeching the tires as she pulled away.

For twenty-five minutes, she gasped, and moaned, and cried—but only on the inside. Through her grief, she could see her husband, smiling, her sister, smiling. In her mind, even her father smiled. And she wanted to weep. But, she would not cry.

Her head and her heart ached by the time she hit the garage remote on her Malibu home. Miles separated her from her father, but distance couldn’t keep away his words.

They’re engaged
.

And then…

You have to find a way to make peace
.

Well, peace was not what she wanted. It was official—Sabrina and Anthony were the enemy. And there was only one way to handle their kind of duplicity. It was the law of the streets where she’d grown up. You paid for betrayal with your life.

V
ANESSA

It felt as if she might never sleep again. This was the third night that she hadn’t been able to close her eyes for more than a couple of hours of restful slumber.

Vanessa rolled to the other side of the bed and inhaled Reed’s lingering scent. She pushed her head into his pillow and sobbed into the space where, for the last twelve years, her husband had rested his head next to hers. How was she supposed to make it through this night, tomorrow night, or any night? She was filled to the top with pain.

Her cries continued until she wondered if her tears would wash away his memory that still remained, though slight, on the sheets.

She wiped her eyes, raised herself up, and swung her legs onto the floor.

It was then that she heard his voice.

If we buy this bed, you’re going to need a ladder
.

The sound of him in her mind almost made her smile as she remembered the words he’d spoken six years before.

“This bed is too big for you.” He’d teased her almost every day.

As she slid from the bed now, she closed her eyes, willing her mind to give her more. She needed more. When nothing else came, she rushed to his closet, slid aside the mirrored door, and inhaled. She lifted the sleeves to one of his shirts and breathed in more of him. For minutes she stood, stroking his clothes, resting in his memory.

It wasn’t enough.

Even though the house was darkened by the midnight hour, Vanessa didn’t turn on any lights as she roamed from her bedroom into the guest room that doubled as Reed’s office. She sank into the soft leather of the high-back executive chair she’d bought for him last Father’s Day. He’d been shocked with surprise.

“A Father’s Day gift? Why?”

“We may not have any children, but you’re the best uncle and godfather and big brother there is. Happy Father’s Day, sweetheart.”

Now, as her fingers caressed the computer, she remembered, that’s how it had always been with them. They made up their own rules, their own traditions. He’d bring her flowers because it was Tuesday. She’d cook a five-course meal because it was his “forty-second and a half” birthday.

“It’s just you and me, baby,” he said often. “There’s the world, and then there’s you and me.”

Which was why this didn’t make sense to her now. He would never leave her to tackle this life alone.

She jumped from the chair and dashed back to their bedroom. From the nightstand, she pulled out her Bible and opened to the first page of Song of Solomon, where she’d tucked the note.

She already knew the words by heart; she’d memorized every crooked line and every scratch that Reed had etched onto the paper. As her eyes wandered over his words, she tried to catch a clue, tried to imagine what he’d been thinking, feeling.

Vanessa, I had to do this…for me. I will always love you. Reed. P.S. Please don’t be mad
.

That was it. Not even twenty words. Not even an explanation. Nothing to help her understand.

“Why didn’t you take me with you?” she cried.

She waited in the quiet dark for his answer. But only the still of the night surrounded her, and finally, she returned the note to its place and set the Bible next to Reed’s photograph on the nightstand.

She picked up the frame that held his picture. Just his photo could make her heart swoon. Reed Martin was the walking definition of a man; he was tall (six feet two inches), dark (the same color as the walnut armoire in her mother’s living room), and handsome (in a strong African way.) He was her Mandingo. Yet in the end, he hadn’t stood like a warrior.

She slid under the covers. Only two hours remained before the light of dawn would appear. Could she make it for two more hours?

You can make it
. It was her heart that spoke.

But always, her head responded,
If you do it, you won’t hurt anymore
.

“God,” she began to pray, “it does hurt; it hurts too much. I can’t do this. I can’t live without Reed. He was the man you gave to me to live the rest of my life with and I’m not supposed to be here without him. Lord, please take me, too.”

You can make it
.

Her heart rocked her with those words.

You can make it
.

Soothed her, calmed her, until she closed her eyes. And for the first time in three days, she slept.

K
ENDALL

With a long yawn, Kendall tossed her garment bag into the backseat of her Jeep. She closed the door, then pressed her weight against the car. Last night she’d seen the clock tick past every hour. But still, when the day’s first light hit her bedroom, she’d jumped up, needing to get away from her thoughts of revenge, which were so thick, they carried their own stench. She hadn’t even taken time to dress, deciding to shower and change at the office.

Kendall zipped her sweat suit jacket before she pressed Open on the garage remote, but before she took two steps, she stopped, frozen. Just stared. At the black Jeep that was edged against the curb across the street.

The window lowered. Seconds ticked. And then her face was in full view. Her sister sat stiff; then slowly, the corners of her lips curved slightly upward. Sabrina opened the door, stepped out. But then, moved no closer.

The cold concrete of the street separated the sisters.

Kendall remembered the last time she’d seen her sister—in her bed, next to her husband. Naked. But today, Sabrina wore clothes befitting the nickname that her father had given her. While Kendall was his “baby girl,” Sabrina was Edwin’s “golden girl.” And today, she looked the part. Her naturally bronze-colored hair, cut in layers, framed her face and almost matched her complexion. Her winter white swing jacket hung to her knees, partially covering her white jeans, and cream-colored stiletto-heeled boots peeked from beneath the hem. Sabrina looked like gold.

It was Sabrina who moved first—and her steps pushed Kendall toward her car.

“Kendall, wait!”

“Get away from me, Sabrina,” Kendall growled. She jumped inside her Jeep, slammed the door, and turned over the ignition.

“Please,” Kendall heard her sister cry. “I want to talk to you.”

Kendall revved the engine.

They’re engaged
.

She took one glance at her sister in the side mirror.

It was the law of the streets—you paid for betrayal with your life
.

She shifted gears, then shot out of the garage like a bullet.

Sabrina screeched, stumbled, and fell backward. Landed on the lawn with a thump and a scream.

Instinct, guilt made Kendall stop. For seconds, nothing. Then slowly, Sabrina moved. Rolled over and pushed herself up. The golden girl was soaked with wet blades of grass.

This time when the sisters stared at each other, it was the tears in their eyes that matched.

The Jeep’s tires screamed as Kendall punched the accelerator to the floor, and with her eyes still on Sabrina, she backed away. With her remote, she closed her garage door and then sped from the sight. In her rearview mirror, she kept her eyes on her sister. Stayed with her eyes trained on Sabrina even as she got farther and farther away. Stayed with her eyes on the mirror until her sister was no longer there.

A pile of messages sat on Kendall’s desk, but she hadn’t returned one call, hadn’t responded to one e-mail. Hadn’t taken care of any of the projects that were stacked high in her To Do box.

All she could do was rest. Lay her head on her desk and hope that sleep would rescue her from the recurring sight of her sister, screeching, falling.

You paid for betrayal with your life
.

The knock on her door didn’t make her raise her head—only the sound of his voice did.

“Kendall, I want to talk to you.”

Sabrina had sent him, she was sure of that. At least he wasn’t the police.

“Do you have a few minutes to step out?” Anthony asked. “Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee.”

She frowned. Wondered why he wasn’t ranting and raving and promising to have her arrested for trying to kill his betrothed. “Why would I want to have coffee with you?”

“Because we need to talk.”

“Why not talk here?” She shrugged. “We don’t have to go out for you to see that the knife you stabbed me with is deep in my back.”

He sat, unmoved, not surprised by her words.

She said, “Sabrina couldn’t get to me, so you thought you’d give it a try?”

“Sabrina really wanted to talk to you, Kendall,” he said with more concern in his voice for her sister than she wanted to hear. “She’s been so upset….”

“Why?” Kendall pushed away from the desk, paced behind it. “She’s getting everything she’s wanted. She’s going to marry the man she went after.”

“You know it wasn’t like that.”

“The only thing I know is three hundred and sixty-five days ago I was married to you. And now I’m not. Because of my sister.”

Anthony sighed. “Do you think we did any of this to hurt you?”

“No, actually, I don’t think either of you has a heart big enough to care if I’m hurting.”

“That’s not true. It’s because of you that we waited until the divorce was final.”

She laughed. “Waited? Anthony, the ink hasn’t even dried on those papers.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know how sorry we are.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

“Believe it, that’s why Sabrina wanted to talk to you.”

Still no mention of my attempt at murder
. “Tell her to save her breath.”
And her life
. “Tell her to stay away from me.”

“She wants to make peace with you. So do I.”

“Sell that to someone who’s buying.”

“So you’re going to spend the rest of your life hating me? Hating your sister?”

Her glare gave him her answer, and she returned to her chair.

“That’s a lot of anger to live with, Kendall. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” She opened a folder from the pile on her desk. “I’m not your wife anymore.” She glanced down at the papers and jotted senseless notes on the blank page. When minutes passed and Anthony hadn’t moved, she threw down her pen. “Why are you here? Is it for some kind of atonement? Am I supposed to cross my heart and pass on my blessings to you and my sister?” She folded her arms across her chest. “That’s not going to happen.”

“All I want…is for you to forgive me.”

“For what, not loving me?”

“We can’t help who we love, Kendall. I just want…I just wish I could lessen this pain for you.”

She held up her hand. “Look, I’m tired. I’m tired of this and you and Sabrina. And even my father. So, unless you want to talk about business, there’s no reason for you to be here.” She paused. “And there’s no reason for you to come back.” She stared at her ex, dared him to say more.

When Anthony finally stood, she added, “And please, no more goodwill missions. Not from my ex-husband. Nor from my ex-sister.”

“I pray that’s just your anger talking.”

“Pray what you want. But I’m tired of being part of this sick trio. I’m done discussing it, thinking about it, even knowing about it. You and Sabrina, do what you have to do. And I’ll take care of me.”

“Please, Kendall. Find a way to get rid of this bitterness. Or else I’m afraid you’ll spend the rest of your life with regrets.”

“I already have lots of them.”

The moment he left her alone, she rushed into the bathroom adjacent to her office. She leaned over the sink, rinsed her face with the hot water, burned away the image of Sabrina. What she’d told Anthony was true—she was done. Never again would she depend on anyone for love or life. From now on, it was all about her. No connections.

She dried her face, clicked off the light, and went into her office to take care of her business.