Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) (17 page)

“As Laura’s parent,” President Rossi says as his phone begins to ring, “I am just astounded that she would say such a thing about a child. And now I’ve come to the realization that I just won’t rest until I do something to help Laura’s bitterness and
…” He looks at the phone, smiles and answers it. “Well,
hello
… with the family … Cynthia says hi,” he whispers to everyone before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room. Who’s Cynthia?

“I’m gone
,” Malcolm says as he heads towards the kitchen door where I’m sneaking a peek. I hurry and slide out of the way lest anyone see me.

“Well
, don’t drive upset,” Angie says. “Just sit here for a while and have some coffee and calm down.”

“I’m good
,” Malcolm answers.

“Son
—” Wynston says.

“I’m good.”

“Malcolm, I don’t want you driving upset,” Angie says.

“I’m fine,
Ma.”

Wow, Danielle’s new family isn’t so perfect after all.

Jacob

(
falling
.)             

Winnie and my wedding is a month away. I’m supposed to be here cutting things off with her, going the moral route. Being true to my own self, as Cadence suggested. When she opened the door to her loft, she smiled, rolled her eyes and said ‘I can’t believe we’re getting married in a month. Who said I was done getting dicked down?’ That made me laugh. That’s how she gets me. She makes me laugh. So here I am now.

“I used to date a black guy,” she says to me as she raises her leg in the air and inspects her toes. She’s wearing beet red shiny polish that matches her nails. “I feel like I should tell you that before we marry, just in case I scream out his name during an orgasm.” I laugh as I run a hand over her stomach. I’m lying on my side, next to Winnie. My future wife. She lowers her leg back onto the bed as the sound of Boston street cars honk below. “But it was puppy love. He and I were basically raised together; both born in Italy to military families that were from the East Coast. And no matter what, our families always seemed to get stationed together. From Italy to California to West Point. Never failed. To this day, he and my brother are best friends. The two of them used to go to Martha’s Vineyard during the summers with his family. From what I hear he’s stationed in Charleston now. Turned military. Navy.” Damn, she smells good. I kiss her on her shoulder. “Demetrius. That’s his name.” I watch her smile. Damn, she has nice lips. I turn her head towards me to kiss them. “Hung like a horse.”

“Oh yeah?”

              “Mm hmm.”

“Bigger than me?” I run a hand down her stomach and trail my fingers along her lower lips.

              “Surprisingly, you two are roughly the same size.” She spreads her legs.

             
“That’s a surprise?” I slide a finger onto her clit.

             
“Well, I’ve never had any luck with white guys in bed. None of them could surpass Demetrius.” She says frankly and with a shrug. She takes her hand and slides it between her legs, placing a finger over mine, moving it in circles over her clit. I do as suggested as she slides her hand away. “I was seriously about to give up on white guys and head down to Charleston is pursuit of D. West until—”

“D. West?”

“That’s my pet name for him.”

“Oh, you two have pet names for each other?”

“Absolutely.” She says as she closes her eyes and smiles, fondly remembering D. West as I circle her clit. “Demetrius Westlake. He calls me G. Yates.”

             
“D. West and G. Yates, huh?”

             
“G. and D., when referred to separately.” She says seriously. “But when referred to as a couple, we go by Got-Damn.” She continues to smile fondly.

             
“Yeah, whatever.” I slide my entire hand over her lower lips and enter her with three fingers. She spreads her legs wider.

“Circle my clit with your thumb while you do that.” She whispers. I do as I’m told. “Good job.”

“Did D. West used to do this?”

“He did.” We both let out a light laugh. “But he used to put his tongue where your thumb is.”

“Oh shit, easy as pie.” I ease on top of her and slide my tongue between her breasts, over her stomach, in and out of her navel and over her lower lips until it rests on her clit. “Fuck D. West.” I mumble out as I circle her with my tongue and enter her with my fingers. We both laugh as she places her hands on my head.

“Anyway, I was about to run down to Charleston and I told Laura and Dena-Jo as much. They both begged me not too, claiming that they had one more white guy that just may work out for me. Ya know, give me what I wanted.”

              “And that is?” I mumble out.

             
“A good lay.”

             
“Oh, okay.”

             
“Laura says that you may fit the bill since she claims that Malcolm usually licks her dry. Dena-Jo says Nat makes her orgasm twice each evening when he’s in town.”

             
“Impressive.”

             
“Yeah, they think birds of a feather flock together.” She lifts my head so that I can look her in the eyes. I give her a wink, she gives me a smile. Her lashes are nearly covering those hazel eyes of hers, her signature red lipstick is all over my dick and that perfect hair of hers is all over her head. She smells like musk and oil. Sexy. Without even thinking, I quickly slide up the bed and lay beside her. Reaching over, I put a hand behind her head and bring her mouth to mine. She leans into me, drapes her leg over me and slides her hand over my ass before giving it a squeeze. “I’m an ass girl.” She whispers against my mouth. “And you have a nice one.”

“I do ten to twelve squats per day.” I whisper back. She giggles against my mouth before I kiss her slow … my tongue against hers, my teeth tugging at her bottom lip, my mouth creeping along hers. Soft. I take another inhale of her before sliding my tongue back against her … gently … patiently … before catching myself. Within an instant, I inch back as if awakened from a nightmare and watch her open her eyes. What the hell am I doing?

“Jacob? What’s wrong?”

Jasmine

(
somethings
.)

“Well
, you sound upset,” I hear Danielle say into the phone. “Your mother’s worried about you driving like this.”

“Of course I’m upset, Red
,” Malcolm says, cranking the heat up and rolling our windows down while we glide down Charles Street. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Malcolm angry before. I look at him and notice his five o’clock shadow, square jaw and flexing jaw muscles. Oh boy, I hope Danielle never crosses him. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about with Marlon; he never gets angry. Bothered? Yes. But angry? Never. He’s quite composed—almost royal—in his disposition. He and I are a lot alike in that way. His dignified temperament is one of the things I love about him. Battles and quarrels are fought by commoners, not kings. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to live with someone who seemed as antagonistic as Malcolm just proved himself to be. It’s a little off-putting. He didn’t have to go and threaten Laura’s husband, he could have just done what Marlon would have done and ignored him. Plain and simple. Some people just aren’t worth your energy, especially common people. And let’s just face it, Lorenzo Gallo may be a senator but his family is
new
money. Common indeed.

             
“Just let it slide; you know how she is,” Danielle says through the phone. “And Lorenzo was just trying to help her out. That’s what spouses do; they do anything to help the other out. He knows Laura has problems.”

             
“No excuse.” Malcolm turns the corner, his face tight. “She’s on medication, she’s stable.”

“There’s something wrong with her, baby.”

“Red, there’s something wrong with everybody. Everyone has their something. So what does that mean? We’re supposed to let each other run around and flip off at the fucking mouth and do stupid shit just because of it? No. That’s not how life works. If you have problems, which if you’re human then you will, you have a responsibility to do everything you can to keep yourself together. And if you think your problems are bigger than you, too much for you to handle, then someone needs to step in and take your ass out of the picture.”

“Oh Malcolm … what in the world are you talking about? Taking people out of pictures … I think you’re going overboard here.”

“Am I, Red?”

“You’re being really tough on Laura right now.”

Is she saying this about the woman who sent that naked picture of me to a journalist at
The Globe
? Is Danielle serious? Laura has problems!

“She’s disrespectful
,” Malcolm says.

“I understand. But I don’t think you should do anything while you’re upset.” Wow … well this exchange is interesting
, to say the least. Wonder what got into Danielle? Usually she’s the one who’s full of redemptive fire. Malcolm takes a deep inhale and then a large exhale. “Better?” she says in a soothing voice.

“Yeah
,” he says quietly as he pulls up to a red stop light. “Where’s Nicky?”

“Right here, gargling with Listerine.” I watch Malcolm close his eyes, smile and let out a light laugh. “Put him on the phone.”

“Here, it’s Malcolm,” Danielle says.

“Hey, Pop
,” Nicky says.

“Why are you still up?” Malcolm asks.

“Opening night jitters.”

“You’ll be fine, trust me.”

“Well, now I’m worried about the bridge.”

“When I get home, we’ll work on the bridge. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I won’t let you get up there and not nail your notes.”

“Thanks. And don’t forget my tea. Tazo.”

“I’m on my way to get it now. See you when I get there.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah
,” I hear Danielle say as she gets back on the phone. “I was wondering, not that I care, but, do you think you can convince Jasmine to come tomorrow?”

“I can try
,” Malcolm says as he turns and looks at me. I look at him and then shrug before I roll my eyes and stare out of the windshield.

“It’s just that I feel that she and I are our own Lola and Laura. Ya know?”

“I get it.”

“Of course Jasmine would be Laura.”

“Of course she is, baby,” I snap my head around to look at Malcolm.
This is why I hate your wife
. He smiles but doesn’t look at me.

“But … maybe she and I can just move on
, or at least try to.”

“Either you’re going to move or not, Red. No such thing as trying to. All that means is that you’re still standing still.”

“Then we’ll move. At least, I will. I’ll move on and see if she will too.”

“I’ll try to get her to come to the play.”

“Alright … see you when you get home.”

“Alright, baby.”

“Love you,” she says in a near whisper.

“I love you too
,” he replies back in kind.

He ends the call and slides the phone in his pocket.

And for the rest of the ride back to the Ritz Carlton we don’t say a word.

Jacob

(
oy
.
)

“Jacob
,” I hear my father, Mayor Preston Blair of the City of Cambridge, say as he walks into kitchen of the Four Seasons. Do yourself a favor and please make sure you address him by his official title when you speak of him. Trust me, you don’t want my mother to hear otherwise. “Doesn’t look good for the groom to be away from the bride at their wedding,” he whispers as he pulls out a barstool at the steel countertop. Sure there are waiters and waitresses buzzing around, chefs hollering about shrimps and temperature checks but this is the Four Seasons. If there’s one thing you can count on it’s discretion. Me sitting here at the countertop amid
coq au vin
,
duck confit
and pork loin isn’t strange at all. In fact, one of the chefs casually pushed a shot of bourbon and a saucer of roasted duck in front of me because apparently they go well together. Everyone else is pretending they don’t even notice me in the room. I have yet to meet anyone’s eyes. I never thought I’d be happy about that, particularly on my wedding day. But trust me, I am.