A Tropical Rendezvous: A BWWM Interracial Bad Boy Billionaire Multicultural Romance (African American Romance) (38 page)

Sunlight made him squint his eyes tightly as he wandered into the living room. At least there, the curtains were shut tightly keeping out the hot rays. Stacey sat curled up on the couch, her eyes transfixed on the television. The sound of gunshots were more pronounced now, making him jumpy.

“What are you watching?” He called.

Stacey jumped. Her wide eyes softened when she saw him, but she quickly turned off the tv. When she stood up, he could see that she was in different clothes then she’d been in before, the soft, purple cotton shorts showing off her shapely brown legs.

“I’m sorry, honey. I thought you were still asleep.”

Ryan nodded. “It’s okay. I’m starving,” he said as he kissed her waiting cheek.

“Well, you’ve only been asleep for a day so I don’t doubt it.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “A day?”

“You don’t remember,” she said shaking her head. “Please, make an appointment with Natalie today.”

He nodded, his mind far away. As he glanced at the coffee table, he saw the empty bottle of Scotch. Clearly he’d come back in to finish it off at some point, but he couldn’t remember doing it. He rubbed a hand over his stubbled face before heading towards the bathroom. Stacey was right. As much as he hated it, he had to call Natalie. Later.

Cleaned up for the day, he took Stacey out. They wandered around the mall, her hand slipped into his. The tension that resided in the house disappeared as they sat together with cups of ice cream in their hands. Stacey’s wide grin made him smile back at her. He could feel his heart speed up. There were no words to describe how much he loved her.

Stacey drove back as he closed his eyes in the passenger seat. His leg had started throbbing halfway through the mall. When they pulled up to the pharmacy, he hopped out. Ryan knew that if he asked Stacey to pick him up a bottle that she would refuse, but he needed it. The alcohol would numb the pain in his leg better than any drug ever could. When he slipped back into the car, she heard the clink of the bottle and looked over.

“What is that?” She asked pointing.

“Just a little drink,” Ryan replied, closing his eyes once again.

“Ryan, take it back.”

Something in his voice made him open his eyes to look at her. She was glaring, the anger burning in her eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

“I’m a grown man, I’m allowed to drink.”

“That’s not the point and you know it. You said you were going to make an appointment with Natalie. You said you’d stop drinking. You’re promising all of these things, but I’m getting nothing from you.”

Ryan could see the tears brimming on her eyelids. “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head quickly. “Sorry isn’t enough this time. If you drink that bottle, I’m leaving you.”

Ryan stared at her, mouth agape. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean it!”

His eyebrows furrowed. “That’s a horrible thing to say,” he grumbled as he opened the car door. He slammed it behind him.

“Where are you going?” Stacey called frantically.

“I’m taking a walk,” he said without turning around.

He could hear her calling after him a few times before she gave up. The sound of the car pulling out of the parking lot made him turn to watch her leave. From the way that she was driving, he could tell that she was pissed off. His hand gripped the plastic bag a little tighter.
She’ll be calm by the time I get home.
Ryan uncapped the bottle of scotch, took a drink and started on his way home.

Stacey had not calmed down. When he stepped through the door of their apartment, the living room was a mess. Baskets of clothes had been moved to the space, their contents spilled all over the couch and floor. He squinted his eyes to see better. They were his clothes. He moved back towards the bedroom quietly. Peeking his head into the door, he saw Stacey frantically packing a black duffle bag.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“Leaving.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you if you had another drink I was leaving you. I meant it,” she said as she stuffed a few more clothes into the bag. The distant sound of a car horn blew. “My mother’s here.”

Ryan grabbed her arm. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to go,” she tried to move past him, but he wouldn’t let go of her arm.

“Please, Stacey. Don’t do this.”

The woman sighed. “You’re a good man, Ryan. And I love you. When you get your problems sorted out, I’ll be waiting, but I can’t live like this,” she pried his hand from her arm before she pushed past him.

“Stacey. Stacey!”

The front door slammed, rattling the glass in the windows. Ryan sank onto the bed, buried his face in his hands. His life was spiraling out of control. The bottle in the bag shifted, hit his leg with a dull thud. He looked at the bottle, dropped it as if it were a snake.
She’s right. I have to change.

Ryan’s hand slipped into the pocket of his shorts where he found his phone. Scrolling through his contacts, he hovered above her name. Natalie Barns.  He put the phone down.
I can’t do it. 
Just the thought of having to share himself like that was enough to make him shudder. The image of Stacey walking away however was more than enough to make up his mind. He pressed the call button.

Natalie’s office was decorated in an array of paintings, cream furniture and vases. He settled onto the couch as she sat in her usual chair. A salad was in her hands. She apologized as she dabbed at her lips with a napkin.

“I could only schedule you during my usual lunch hour,” she leaned forward to shake his hand before returning to her salad. “Now, what’s been going on. You sounded really stressed yesterday.”

Ryan took his time explaining things to her; his nightmares, his drinking, the arguments with Stacey. Natalie had pushed the remains of her food aside halfway through to lean closer to him. When he was done, she leaned back in her chair.

“I know we discussed it before, but have you given anymore thought to the medication?”

“You know I don’t like that stuff. It makes me feel like a zombie.”

“How about a support group?”

“Bunch of guys sitting around, talking about their feelings? No, thank you.”

Natalie shook her head. “It seems that you don’t want to get better Ryan.”

“I do!”

“Then act like it,” she snapped back.

Ryan sighed as he sat up. His hands ran over his face as he looked away from her. He knew that she was right, but it was hard to open up about the things that gnawed into him every moment of every day. Finally, he sighed.

“Okay, I’ll do it.”

A smile spread across Natalie’s face. She leaned forward, laid her hand over his before she gave it a tight squeeze. The woman didn’t say anything as she walked to her desk to grab her prescription pad and the number to a support group. When she pressed the papers into his hand, he glanced at them.

“PTSD support center? Do they have to announce it to the whole world,” he mumbled.

“There’s no shame in needing help, Ryan. Anyone who says differently is the one with the problem, not you.”

Ryan shook her hand before leaving the office. Despite his protesting, it felt good that things were beginning to change. He felt for the phone that was in his pocket, but reconsidered. He would go see her in person. Ryan had always been a direct person, that wouldn’t change.

He drove the short distance to her mother’s house. The cozy, one story white brick house was quiet as he knocked on the door. For a moment, he thought maybe she’d gone out when the blinds shifted. A few moments later, a gray haired woman with a frown answered the door.

“What do you need, Ryan?”

“Stacey. Is she here?”

The woman looked him up and down. “She’s still really upset with you. Don’t you think you should give her some time?”

Ryan let out an exasperated sigh. “Please, can I just see her?”

The woman looked for a moment as if she wasn’t going to get her, but she sighed before she turned around, yelling for Stacey that he was at the door. The silent moments between were the worst as he waited for her to appear. When she did, she looked cautious. He could tell from the puffiness of her eyes that she’d been crying.

“I’m so sorry,” he said as he raised a hand to touch her face.

She turned away from him. “What do you want?”

“I just came by to tell you that I was sorry. I’m working on myself. I saw Natalie today and she gave me some new meds and the address to a support group.”

“That’s good. I’m happy for you.”

“So, you’ll come back home now?”

Stacey scoffed. “We’ve been down this road before. You go for a while, take your medicine for a few days, then you stop. I need to know that you’ll actually change this time.”

“Come on, I’m trying.”

She nodded, wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I know.”

“Come home then. I can’t do this without you.”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stepped back into the door. Ryan protested as she closed the door.

It took everything in Ryan not to lose his temper. He wanted to bang on the door, tell her to come out and talk to him. When he glanced at the window, he could see her through a space in the blinds. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. Ryan stepped off of the porch.

His first instinct was to get a drink, but he didn’t look in the direction of the alcohol as he picked up his medication. There was a part of him that knew Stacey was right. She’d been understanding, patient, but that had run out. Now, he would have to prove to her just how much she meant to him.

Days slipped into weeks without her. He woke up, puttered around the house until he couldn’t take the silence, then went to the park. The longer he went without a drink, the more he reconnected with the world. He talked with his friends, visited his family, but Stacey was always on his mind.

He tried so hard to keep clean, that when he relapsed it was harder than ever. Stacey refused to even take his calls. The only thing on his mind was the shape of her lips, her wide, hazel eyes, her soft hair. The man could feel himself wallowing, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself out of it.

A beard covered his jaw as he looked in the mirror. He ran a hand over it, but turned away. Stepping into his jeans, he pocketed his keys. The first thing on his agenda was another bottle. Even the thought made guilt shoot through his body, but his feet still propelled him towards the door.

His hand was on the doorknob when his phone rang. He fumbled for it, dropping things out of his pocket as he fished it out. The number wasn’t Stacey’s, but her mother. Instantly, thoughts that something had happened to her ran through his mind. He hit the answer button.

“Ryan! Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. What’s wrong?” He asked as he heard her sniffling.

“Come over right now, please. Something’s happened.”

Ryan didn’t bother saying goodbye as he ran down the steps to his car. He slid in, barely registering how quickly his heart was beating in his chest. He threw the car into drive, peeled out of the parking lot. As the streets flew by in a blur of honking cars, he couldn’t stop the worst case scenarios from flooding his mind.
Please be okay.
Trying to imagine life without Stacey was impossible.