Forever. (This. Is. Not. Over. Book 3) (23 page)

“It’s
yes
, sweetie,” I say to Tiffany before giving her another kiss on the lips.
Good job
. I then stand and smile at Mrs. Carmichael. “Yvonne! Nice to see you!” We pull each other in a hug.

“I know! I know!” Yvonne says as we part.

“It’s those dimples of hers that get me every time,” Judge Carmichael says as he points to me.

“Judge, how are you!” I say to him as we both lean in for a hug.

“Yeah, me too,” Marlon says as he waits for me to finish hugging the judge before taking me in his arms and hugging me so tightly I can barely breathe. But it doesn’t matter if I’m breathing or not, all that matters is that right now all I can hear is the sound of my heart racing. I smile up at Marlon, look right into his eyes and place a hand over his heart. His is racing just as fast.

Jacob

(
mine
.
)

             
“Jacob, this is Attorney D. West. Attorney D., this is my husband, Jacob Blair.” She smiles between the two us with satisfaction while I look at her like she’s lost her mind. Is Winnie’s ass crazy introducing me to this muthafucka by his pet name? And by the way, last I checked, I’m a fucking lawyer too.

             
“Demetrius. And nice to meet you,” he says to me. I turn to see him smiling ear to ear. Okay, so let me stop here. Allow me to explain something. I’ve always known Winnie has had a past. There’s no denying that. But she’s fucked around with men in our society so everyone’s discreet. Demetrius is no exception. He may be an Army brat turned Navy JAG. And he may have been born in Italy and traveled the world before taking up residence in Charleston, but he’s still in our society. He’ll never kiss and tell. I get that. But something about the fact that Winnie, my wife, has been with this man is pissing me off right now and I can’t tell you why.

Currently, we’re all in DC at a presidential ball. Winnie’s father, General Yates, is being honored by the president and his men for exceptional service. I wasn’t passing up the chance of flying into DC and being surrounded by potential clients.
You better not
, Winnie said when I told her as much. She’s about business. I like that about Winnie.

Tonight, she’s decked out in a black ball gown. Everything about her is perfect. Black hair, red nails, hazel eyes, cherry lips. Perfect. Winnie. I’m strapped in this tuxedo, admittedly proud to be escort
ing Winnie to this function, raking up connections as she introduces me to her military set. This has become my strength in the firm; raking up military clients. Malcolm has the Boston politicos in the bag, Nat has the business owners, I have the Boston armed forces. Legally, some of them may have to go to Demetrius Westlake since he’s an attorney in the armed forces but I’m the civilian lawyer they come to when they want to keep shit private.

Winnie just gave birth to our first child, Noah Ralph Blair or Ralphie as we call him. According to the constitution, for Ralphie to ever become the future president of the United States, he had to be born in US territory. My mother damn near put a gun to my head in order to get Winnie back to the States or to at least
have her give birth on the floor of the US Embassy in London. My father demanded we bring our asses back to Boston so Ralphie could be born a Boston boy. Luckily for both of them, Mac, Nat and I decided to come back to Boston for good a few months ago. London treated us well but we have American clients now and they need us on US soil full time. There’s only so much a fax or email can do when a client needs the face to face reassurance of his legal counsel. We parted ways with Cadence for good; he just doesn’t have the stomach to survive in our business. He’s currently in London with Lola and from what I hear their marriage is going through a rough patch. Could have something to do with Cadence’s penchant for
amour
as he calls it. It could also have something to do with Cadence’s penchant for Lola’s sister, also known as Malcolm’s former-fiancé, Laura. Either way, Cadence and Lola have been on rocky terms here recently, a surprise shift for a couple that I assumed had it all together.

M
ore surprising then Cadence and Lola’s marital strife was the day Winnie told me she was pregnant:

Win 1:45 pm
: Yo, you knocked me up. 

Me 1:47 pm:
Who is this?

Win 1:47 pm:
Haha!!

And so it was, nine weeks ago, that Gwyneth Anne Blair, gave me something no other woman in the universe could ever give me. My first child. I won’t lie, I worship the ground this woman walks on now.

“You smell good, Gwyneth.” Demetrius says. But back to this clown …

              “She does.” I say. He and I lock eyes with each other; his are taunting, mine are bored.
Attorney Westlake, get a fucking life and stop flirting with my wife. She comes home to me. I put my baby inside of her. He has my last name. She has my last name. Get the hell out of here with that bullshit.

“Demetrius, I tried to call and tell you about my son Ralphie but as soon as the call connected it
hung
right up.” Winnie says, a dash of humor in her voice. I shift my eyes over to her and see that she’s looking directly at me, a little smirk on her face. I smile at her and give her a wink.

“Is that right?” Demetrius says as a voice booms over the sound system, causing the band to taper their music off into silence. After a moment, we’re all asked to take our seats so that the ceremony can begin. “I’ll see you afterwards?” Demetrius says to Winnie as he begins to slowly back away from us. “I’d love to catch up.” Black guy, 6’2”, Navy lawyer, dressed in a tuxedo. What the hell does Winnie see in this guy?

“I’d love that too,” Winnie says as she gives him some girlish ass wave. Are you kidding me? He winks and turns around to walk away. “Well,” she says as she lets out a deep breath, “that was D. West.” I see her trying to suppress a laugh.

             
“Gwyneth Blair.” I say to her as I step up to her, pressing her body against mine. She drops her head back to look into my eyes.

             
“Yes. Can I help you, Attorney Blair?”

             
“Don’t get that muthafucka killed.” She lets out a light laugh before giving me a wink.

I was up all night with Winnie and her Braxton-Hicks contractions, so as I drive towards St. Michael’s with my family, I’m exhausted. The kids undoubtedly had an action-packed night at my parents’ home. By the time I picked them up this morning (since Winnie promised them breakfast) they were already complaining about wanting to take a nap. That’s the first clue that a child is truly exhausted, they ask
you
for a nap.

             
“We’re going to have to lay them in the church nursery,” Winnie says as she turns around and watches Ralphie, Harper and Beckett asleep in the back seat. I’m Dane, Winnie’s Black Irish, but all three of our kids came out with my darker skin, Winnie’s black hair and the signature Blair brown eyes … and people thought Mac and I were Italian.

             
“I’ll have somebody help me get them out the truck,” I say as I make a right turn.

             
“Okay.”

             
And then there’s silence. Nothing but the sound of Amy Winehouse coming through the speakers.
Love Is A Losing Game
. Winnie always did love Amy. Amy was reckless. Bold. Devil-may-care. Tough. And a hopeless romantic.
Finally, someone who I can relate to
, Winnie would always say when she read or watched another interview of the now reckless, bold, devil-may-care, tough, hopeless romantic, dead singer. Winnie was more devastated than a normal person should be when Amy died, obsessively talking about it for weeks. Ever since Winnie and I married, she’s always been close with my four older sisters. Sarah, Rachel, Eve, Leah and Winnie are known for their drunken bar stints where Malcolm, Nat and my brother-in-laws would have to pay off an owner, buy new jukeboxes or in one case, rebuild the bar from the bottom up … because they tore the muthafucka down. But at the end of the day Eve, Rachel, Leah and Sarah are pretending to be good. Winnie is not. Winnie wants to be herself. Her bold, devil-may-care, tough, reckless, hopeless romantic self. This is where Danielle and Rena come in. But I don’t want my wife to feel as though she has to travel outside of her own home to find someone who she can finally relate to. I want her to feel that kinship with me, her man. I may not have loved Winnie when I married her but the fact is that I love her now. No matter what I do. That’s what matters.

             
“I was thinking,” Winnie says, “maybe you can move to Cadence’s place. You know, just for another break.” Hell no.

             
“Don’t do this shit, Winnie.”

             
“What? I just think it would be best.” No, I’m not going through this again with her. I’m not going through another separation and another divorce. I pull over to the side of the street, in front of the W hotel and put the truck in park and watch as the valet approaches me.

             
“Attorney Blair,” he says with a nod before walking away. I give him a half wave and then look at Winnie.

“Winnie, I’ll never leave you. Okay? We match. We may love each other differently, but that doesn’t mean you love me better. You just love me crazier. Wilder. My love for you is more down to earth. More rational. More
balanced. It doesn’t mean that I love you less, I just love you differently. And that’s a good thing. Together, you and I are already bombs ticking slowly. If I loved you the same way you loved me, we’d have already exploded. You and I are the same person, the
exact same person
. There isn’t another person alive I can say that about. So you can divorce me every other year if you want, but when it comes down to it, you’ll never be done with me and I’ll never be done with you. So why go through all of this shit over a picture? Or over me loving another person before you?”

“The shit is hard, Jacob
,” she whispers as she looks away. And my heart sinks for her. I want to love her like she loves me, but it’s not possible. I do love her, but I can never love her the same way she loves me. She’s my second love, not my first. I’m her first love, not her second. I’m the type who will always have feelings for the first person he ever surrendered his will too. I can’t promise Winnie that I can ever stop loving Jasmine. I can’t even promise Winnie that I’ll stop sleeping with Jasmine because honestly, I want them both.

Every human alive has an alter ego. A good and bad side. Most people spend their entire lives searching for someone to fulfill the places that their husband or wife can’t fill. I see it all the time in my business. But like Rossi who has Cynthia, I have Jasmine. And I know it sounds bad, but I want them both. To want them both is human. To have them both is selfish. Unfortunately, I’m selfish.

But I do love Winnie.

“I love you, Winnie. I’m
not leaving our place. I’m not leaving you.” I watch her nod, still looking out of her window. I reach for her hand, take it in mine and kiss the back of it. “And I’m not letting you leave me.” She nods again. I place her hand back on her leg before turning to check on the kids again. Still asleep. Good. The last thing I want them to see is Winnie and I talking about divorce. I put the truck in drive and we’re off again. I look at Winnie and she has her eyes closed, her head resting against the back of her seat, her hands across her stomach.

“Is he kicking?” I whisper.

“He is,” she whispers back. I reach a hand over and rest it on her stomach. She places a hand over mine and guides me towards the kicks.
Knock. Knock.
Yeah, he’s in there. I feel for Winnie, I really do. She deserves better. But I’ll never let her go.

Unfortunately for Winnie, she and I will never be over.

I continue to feel my son’s kicks.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
The beat of his kicks feel different.

“Is that him?” I ask as I feel him kicking like clockwork now.

“No, he stopped.” She says faintly.

“Then what’s that pounding?”

“I don’t know, probably my heart.” She turns to look at me. “You can feel that?”

“Yeah … I can.”

Jasmine
             

(
the. bridge
.)

I know that Malcolm said he taught Nicky the Ray Charles version of
“Little Drummer Boy” but I have to say that Nicky sounds exactly—and I mean exactly—like Michael Jackson in his Jackson 5 days. The little riffs, voice tricks and everything! He’s really good!