Another Woman's Man (24 page)

Yolanda's mouth fell open as she watched Beatrice approach while Reggie went bug-eyed with terror.

Cynthia turned to find Beatrice wearing a brown uniform that one of the groundskeepers would wear, except Beatrice's large frame was barely contained in the tight cotton fabric. Her large bosoms burst over the top of the zippered front.

So that's how the bitch got in,
Cynthia realized. She wondered if there was some poor gardener knocked unconscious somewhere on Glenn Dale's grounds, wearing only his T-shirt and boxers.

Cynthia watched as Beatrice came to a halt only a few feet away from the bride, groom, and the rest of the bridal party. Beatrice yanked off the brown baseball cap that was partially hiding her face.

“Reggie, what the hell do you think you're doing?” Beatrice bellowed with her hands on her hips.

“Now, Bea,” Reginald said, holding up his hands, “don't cause a scene!”

“Don't cause a scene?
Don't cause a scene?
” she screeched. Her head looked like it was about to explode. “You told me last night while we were in bed together that you loved me.”

Cynthia's eyes widened with shock. So did her mother's.
In bed together?

“And yet here you are, about to marry this . . . this two-bit heffa! You said we would be together until the day we died, Reggie!”

“Hey!” Dawn shouted. “Don't call my mama a two-bit heffa!”

“Yeah!” Stephanie yelled, holding her aching back while glaring at Beatrice.

“Enough of this bullshit,” Cynthia muttered and stepped forward. “Security! Where the hell is security?”

Two burly men in suits suddenly galloped into the room, looking confused.

Cynthia slowly shook her head in exasperation, then snapped her fingers at the guards and pointed at Beatrice. “Do your damn jobs and remove this crazy bitch from the premises—
now!
Or I'll have to take care of her myself!”

As the men stepped forward, Beatrice shoved her hand into the collar of her T-shirt and began to rifle around in her bra.

What the hell is she doing now?

Seconds later, Beatrice removed her hand from her bosom, revealing a petite .38 revolver. A few people gasped. Several shouted in alarm.

Cynthia felt as if she was going to pee her pants. She was at a loss for what to do next. Her worst nightmare had manifested in full living color.

“Stand back!” Beatrice turned and barked at the guards. “Stand right there!”

The men came to an abrupt stop. Panicked wedding guests, making their way toward the doors, halted.

Beatrice turned back around toward the front of the room. Tears ran down her plump cheeks, giving her raccoon eyes and smudging her foundation.

“How could you do this?” she sobbed. “How could you do this to me, Reggie? You know how much I love you!”

“Baby,” he said softly. “Put the gun down. We can talk about this if you put the gun down.”

Cynthia noticed out of the corner of her eye Stephanie's man, Keith, lean toward her brother-in-law, Crisanto, and whisper something into his ear. They both stood in the audience only a few feet away from Beatrice, who was still ranting. Cris nodded and a second later, Keith started to ease toward the aisle. Cris followed him.

Cynthia frowned.
What the hell are they doing?

“Beatrice . . . baby . . . I swear to you, if you—”

“Don't you swear a damn thing to me, you lying, cheating S-O-B! I'm telling you now, if you expect me to play second fiddle to this heffa, you've got another thing comin'!”

With a trembling hand, Beatrice raised her arm and pointed the gun at Yolanda.

“It's not happening, Reggie. I'll kill her and kill you rather than let that happen,” she said flatly.

“Oh, my God!” Yolanda gasped, taking a step back and dropping her lush bouquet to the stage.

“Damn it, do something!” Cynthia shouted to the guards, who seemed to be virtually frozen in ice near the doors. “Don't just stand there!
Do
something!” she squealed.

But the guards didn't do a damn thing. Cynthia could feel panic make the bile rise in her throat as Beatrice stopped trembling.

“Say good-bye to your heffa, Reggie,” Beatrice ordered.

Cynthia closed her eyes, preparing herself for the boom of gunfire, but instead she heard Beatrice scream and then a loud thump, followed by more shouting. Cynthia slowly opened one eye, then the other to find that Cris had tackled Beatrice. The fat woman now whimpered and writhed underneath the former NFL player. Meanwhile, Keith had one hand firmly pressed against the back of Beatrice's head, shoving her face into the red wedding carpet, while the other hand wrenched the revolver away from her.

“Got it!” Keith shouted. He opened the revolver's chamber and dumped the bullets onto the floor. “Everything's OK, everybody. It's under control.”

Cynthia dropped her hand to her chest and let out a long breath of relief.

So men can be useful after all.

“No, everything is
not
OK!” Lauren suddenly shouted.

Oh, Lord, what next?
Cynthia turned to her sister. “What? What the hell happened now?”

Her eyes settled on Lauren, who was clutching Stephanie's hand. Meanwhile Stephanie was holding up the hem of her gown, revealing the dreaded Keds. She also was standing in a puddle of water.

“Steph's water broke,” Lauren said. Her doe eyes were wide with alarm.

With that statement, all hell broke loose.

“I
know that I'm supposed to sound utterly sophisticated and blasé about this, but can I just say that I am
so excited?
” Madison McGuire gushed. “I feel like I could do cartwheels!” She paused. “Well, I would, if it wouldn't throw out my back.”

Dawn laughed as they strolled across the hardwood floors.

Gallery staff and contractors darted around the two women in a frantic effort to prepare for tomorrow night's premiere exhibit. The sound of drilling and hammering filled the massive room as workers hung the last few paintings and Lucite plaques on the walls. Tables were being set up along the front where the platters of hors d'oeuvres and wine would be served.

The gallery had been renovated slightly since Maddie had purchased it from Martin Sawyer months ago. She had removed some of the more extreme and off-putting industrial touches, but the space still had a huge presence that Dawn admired. Any lingering doubts Dawn might have had about leaving Templeton Gallery disappeared while she walked through this new space.

“You should be excited,” Dawn said. “Tomorrow is the first official showing at your gallery. It'll be a big night.”

“My gallery!
My
gallery!” Maddie shouted, clasping her hands together as she gazed around the exhibition hall in awe. “Oh, it's just surreal! A small-town girl like me having her own gallery? Who would have thought . . .” Her voice trailed off. She turned to Dawn, still grinning. When she saw Dawn's intensely focused expression, she frowned. “But you don't look excited. Is something wrong?”

Dawn looked up from her iPad, where she had typed her to-do list for the day. She had just added another item to the list. “No, nothing's wrong. It's just . . . Well, my job is to make sure that everything runs smoothly so that the gallery's first showing goes off without a hitch. Unfortunately, that means dealing with a lot of last-minute details that can include a lot of hassles. I don't usually get excited until the actual exhibit night.”

“Oh,” Maddie said, looking deflated.

And frankly,
Dawn wanted to add, but couldn't,
I haven't been able to work up much enthusiasm for anything lately.

Emotionally she was still exhausted by the events of the last few days.

First, it was her father's death. Then she heard news that her stepmother wanted to cut her out of the will.
Then
she had made the heartbreaking decision to sever all ties with Xavier. Dawn thought she couldn't possibly handle any more upheaval in her life—until that whole fiasco at her mother's wedding. Being held at gunpoint by one of the groom's crazy lovers hadn't been fun. But thanks to Keith and Cris's quick thinking, no one had gotten hurt—well, no one except Beatrice, that is. Being tackled by a former NFL player wasn't pretty. When Beatrice was finally dragged away by police, she had several bruises and a bad case of rug burn on her face to show for it.

Of course, as Beatrice was being shoved into the back of a sheriff's office patrol car, Stephanie was being driven away at high speed to the local hospital. She delivered her baby girl later that night after much pushing and screaming and
lots
of cursing at poor, beleaguered Keith. Zoe Hendricks entered the world at 8:58 p.m. weighing seven pounds, eight ounces. Stephanie said Zoe seemed to take more after her father in temperament since so far her little angel seemed tranquil and content, though Dawn bet only time would tell if Zoe would grow up to be a spitfire like her mother.
No one
who had Gibbons DNA had ever been described as “tranquil.” Dawn suspected that Zoe would bring her own mix of drama to the Gibbons clan when her time came.

You can bet on it,
Dawn now thought with a smirk as she and Maddie approached her office door.

“I don't know why I didn't realize you were so busy, Dawn! And look at me blathering on and on to you,” Maddie said, looking flustered.

“You weren't ‘blathering'! Besides, I can always make time in my schedule for you. You
own
this gallery, Maddie. Remember that! This is your baby, and if you want to talk to your gallery director or ask questions, you have every right to.”

“You're right. But even a gallery director needs some peace and quiet to get things done.” She patted Dawn on the shoulder and turned. “I'll let you get back to work. See you at the exhibit tomorrow night!”

Dawn waved. “See you!”

She watched Maddie head back down the hall. Dawn sighed and stepped into her office, going over her to-do list again. It would all get done. She knew it would. She just wished she didn't feel so down. Her dark mood made each day seem longer and each task seem harder.

“Gotta get out of this funk, girl,” she mumbled to herself before pulling out her office chair and sitting down behind her glass-top desk.

But she didn't know how. She was still mourning the loss of her father
and
the end of her short-lived romance with Xavier.

She glanced at the photograph of Herb that she now kept on her desk. It was a quick digital shot she had taken of him with her camera phone during one of their “dates.” He had been smiling and waving at the camera as he raised a cup of coffee to his lips.

Dawn ran her finger over the picture frame and gave a forlorn smile. She missed her father. She missed him dearly. She wished she could talk to him now and share her doubts and misgivings. She wished she could ask him if she'd made the right decision when it came to Xavier.

But I don't have him here now,
she thought, pulling her hand away from the picture frame.

She had to trust her own instinct on this one, and her instinct said to put as much distance between Xavier and herself as possible.

With that, she returned her attention to the stack of contracts on her desk, pushing her sadness and heartache aside for now.

“Dawn, are you busy?” Kevin asked an hour later.

She had asked him to come with her to Sawyer Gallery when she quit the Templeton. “Like I would ever let you leave me behind,” he had joked before also turning in his resignation.

He gently knocked on her office door and pushed it open now. “You have someone out here who'd like to speak with you if you have some time.”

“No more busy than usual,” Dawn grumbled with a frown as she tore her eyes away from her laptop screen. “Is it about tomorrow night's exhibit?” Her shoulders fell. “God, don't tell me it's the florist or the caterer coming in with some issue. I don't think I can take it, Kev!”

He shook his blond head. “No, it's not the florist or the caterer.”

“OK, well, at least there's that. Send them in, I guess.”

Kevin nodded.

“Oh, and Kev,” she whispered.

He paused. “Yeah?”

“Pop back in my office in like . . . fifteen minutes and make up a lie about how you really,
really
need me out on the exhibit floor. I don't want to get sucked into a long conversation. I've got too much to do today.”

Kevin nodded again, pushed the door open, and stepped into the hall. She heard him mumble something to someone in the hallway. Dawn busied herself with neatly arranging the stacks of papers on her desk. When she looked up and saw who was walking into her office with his head bowed, heat flared along her cheeks, chest, and neck. Her heartbeat accelerated.

Well, speak of the devil,
she thought.

“Hey,” Xavier greeted her softly as Kevin shut the door behind him, leaving them alone.

Xavier wasn't wearing a suit today. Instead, he wore dark jeans and a powder blue button-down shirt that was open at the collar. His curly hair looked a little shaggier than usual and he sported a five o'clock shadow. But despite his disheveled appearance, Xavier still looked handsome. He reminded her of what he looked like when she woke up next to him the morning after they spent their first night together. He reminded her of the heartache and disappointment she had experienced days later at the funeral when he acted as if she meant nothing to him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

She hoped her voice didn't betray how shaky she felt on the inside, because her skin, muscles, and bones felt like a quivering mass of Jell-O.

“I told you that I was going to check on you,” he answered, slowly walking toward her desk. “You haven't returned any of my phone calls, so I just decided to come and see you myself. I went to Templeton and the receptionist told me that I could find you here.”

“Well, you shouldn't have come.” She rose from the chair and glared at him. “I don't want to talk to you. I'd hoped you would take me ignoring your messages as a hint. But I guess not.” She stepped around her desk, giving him a wide berth as she walked toward her door. “Now I'll just have to skip the hints, be a straight-up bitch, and tell you to leave.”

“I quit my job at Allen Enterprises,” he blurted out, making her pause.

He quit? Why the hell did he quit?

“Sorry to hear that,” she muttered blandly, pretending to have little interest in his announcement. She turned the door handle.

“I cut off all contact with Constance and Raquel too . . . especially after I found out that they're planning to cut you out of Herb's will.”

“Really?”
she said as she swung the door open. “Well, you didn't have to do that on my account.”

He raised his hand and promptly slammed the door shut, making her stare at him in shock.

“Yes, I did,” he said. “It's the least I owe you.” She watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “Look, Dawn, I know I hurt you. And I know you're angry at me. It's well deserved. But I just want to—”

“Do what?
Apologize?
” she choked, trying to hold back her tears. She took a step back from him when he started to reach out for her. “Is that what you're about to say? Is that what you came here to do?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Frankly, I've had enough of your apologies. They don't mean a damn thing if you're just going to do it again.”

He cringed. “I never meant to hurt you, and I'm
not
going to do it again!”

“That's what you say now!” she chided as she opened her eyes and began to cry. “You always say that! But you can't please everybody, Xavier. When are you going to figure that shit out? When you're torn between disappointing other people or hurting me, your choice has always been clear, hasn't it? Well, you don't have to make that choice anymore. I've pulled myself out of consideration. So for the last time, go back to Constance! Make up with her and—”

“I'm not going back to Constance! I told you. I've cut off all contact with her! There's nothing between us anymore.”

“
Nothing between you?
I
saw
you two together at the funeral! I saw how—”

“You didn't see anything! What you saw was an act! I don't want to marry her and Constance doesn't want to marry me. She never did! The whole time we've been together, she's been fucking some other guy! She was
pretending
that she loved me to save face, to impress her father!”

Dawn paused again. She stared at him in amazement.
Constance cheated on Xavier?
“Bullshit,” she whispered.

“No, it's not bullshit! She told me herself, and I was just as shocked as you are. The Constance that I knew—that I've dated since I was nineteen years old—would never do that. But I guess I never really knew her.” He raised a hand to Dawn's cheek, wiped at one of her tears, and caressed her. “I never really knew myself either, Dawn. Because if I did, I would have ended it with Constance the moment I met you. What I felt for her is no comparison to how I feel when I'm around you.”

Her heart started to flutter at his words and his touch, but she ignored it, reminding herself that she had been sucked in by his captivating spell before and it had only led to disappointment.

“So things fell apart with Constance and . . . and now you've come here to collect the consolation prize?” she asked bitterly. “Is that it?”

“You're no consolation prize.” He cupped her other cheek, and despite the alarm bells that went off in her head, she didn't pull away. She gazed into his eyes, feeling herself sinking faster than the
Titanic
into those gray pools. “You're the
ultimate
prize, Dawn. You're the woman who's right for me. You're the one I want to be with . . . to spend my life with, if you'll have me.”

She was falling for it. The stone fort she had erected around her heart was being torn down piece by piece again despite her best efforts.

“You talk a good game,” she whispered, “but—”

“I'm not talking game. I'm not lying to you, and you know it. We should be together. You feel it, just like I do.”

And she did. Despite everything, she wanted him and it made her feel weak and vulnerable, which was everything she had been taught all her life never to be.

“Don't do this to me again,” she said desperately, feeling the tears tumble down her cheeks more profusely now. She licked her lips as she trembled, unable to keep up her cold front any longer. “Please, don't do this to me, Xavier. I can't . . . I can't take this. Not again. I know I come off as strong, but I'm not always! I can't—”

Xavier silenced her by bringing his mouth to hers. He moved his lips against her lips, coaxing them open, urging her to kiss him back. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly against him so that their bodies were plastered together and she couldn't get away from him even if she tried.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I want you and I love you.”

With that, the last wall fell.