THREE DAYS LATER

“I want to wear my hair all out, straight down my back,” Imani said, brown eyes bright as she looked up at the woman currently brushing her hair.

A smile spread over Regina’s face as she continued to brush the girl’s spongy black tresses. “Oh, I don’t know if you’re old enough for such a mature style just yet.”

“Other girls in my class wear their hair all out. The white ones and some of the black ones too,” Imani insisted. She was wearing a floral print dress and the natural-colored sandals Talaya had bought for her earlier in the summer. Her legs were crossed at the ankle as she sat on the floor between Regina’s legs.

The same way Talaya used to sit on the floor when her mother combed her hair.

“Well, I’m not their mother,” Regina replied and continued to brush Imani’s hair until she had it all smoothed back. Then she put down the brush and picked up a ponytail holder. Talaya watched from what she thought was the doorway or perhaps it was a window since the scene seemed to be framed in her mind. Regina continued to smooth her hands over Imani’s hair as she pulled the mass together to finally wrap the ponytail holder around it, circling the elastic band several times to ensure its tightness.

Imani frowned momentarily at the last tug of her hair and Regina smiled down at her. “You’re adorable,” she said. “And mommy loves you more than the moon and the stars.”

Talaya’s breath caught on those words, her heart pounded as she heard them repeated over and over in her mind until she finally had to look away.

But when her eyes focused again, it was on her mother once more. Regina was laying on her bed—the bed she’d covered in a soft blue comforter and pillows because she said the color made her think of the clouds and of heaven. Her mother always seemed to be thinking of the sky and all the things in it.

This time, Talaya didn’t stay in the doorway. She walked toward the bed, her steps feeling heavy as if maybe her feet were weighed down by something. There was an eerie scent in the air, something she thought she recognized but couldn’t really pinpoint. Besides, her mind was really focused on her mother. She was lying on her side, her back to Talaya.

“Mama,” she called to her in a soft voice.

In addition to working at the pediatric clinic, her mother made rounds at a world-renowned pediatric hospital which had been ecstatic to have her join them once they moved from Long Island to Houston. Sometimes those shifts at the hospital were in the middle of the night and Regina would come home mid-morning and fall into bed. She’d sleep for hours after that, so Talaya had learned to be quiet if she were in the house during those times. She was a teenager and not a small child at that time, so it wasn’t really a task to let her mother rest without doing anything to disturb her.

But today, she wanted to wake her.

“Mama,” she called to her again as she took another step.

A voice was screaming for her to stop, to turn around and leave and when she tried to lift her foot to take the next step it was almost impossible. She concentrated, looking down at her feet but seeing nothing but black, as if they weren’t really there. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to Mama.

She called to her again and struggled with the next steps until finally, she was at the side of the bed, close enough that she could reach out and touch. The comforter had been pulled up over Regina’s shoulder so that all Talaya could see was her mother’s ear and the soft curls of her hair. Regina went to the salon every six weeks for a relaxer, trim and style. Every two weeks she went to the same stylist for a wash and curl. To be clear, Regina’s hair was always done, just like her make-up and the clothes she wore when she wasn’t accenting everything with her white doctor’s coat, were stylish and made her look like the very important politician’s wife she used to be.

There was no scarf on Regina’s head and Talaya wondered why. Her mother never laid down without covering her hair and had taught Talaya to do the same. Except Talaya mostly wore her hair natural—especially after that night of the awards show—so sometimes if she had cornrows or just a puffy ponytail she could lay down for a nap without bothering with a scarf. But Regina never forgot, she never went without it. Talaya’s fingers shook as she extended an arm until the tips of her fingers brushed over her mother’s curls. “Mama, you forgot your scarf.”

Regina didn’t stir.

“Mama,” Talaya continued. “You’ve got to get up and get your scarf.”

Still, Regina didn’t move.

“I’ll get it for you,” Talaya said and started to walk away from the bed. But now, she couldn’t move her feet at all. And that voice that had been pleading with her to leave, now begged for her to stay.

“Stay smart, Talaya,” the voice whispered. “Stay honest and stay true.”

Now, Talaya’s hands trembled, her heart beat so fast she thought it might thump right out of her chest. “No,” she choked out the one word as pain began to soar from the depths of her soul to the tip of her tongue. “No.”

“You are the best thing I ever did, Talaya. The very best. Stay here, my darling. Stay here and be great.”

Those words played over and over as she turned slowly, her gaze falling on that bed once more. Only, her mother was no longer covered by that sky blue comforter. No, she was now lying on her back inside the pearlescent casket surrounded by cloud white, sky blue, and sunny yellow flowers. A hand flew to Talaya’s mouth as she sobbed, loud, heart-wrenching tears. And as she cried, she swiped her hands over her face in a pointless attempt to keep it dry. She sniffled and her chest heaved, then she smelled it again.

Blood.

She heard something dripping along with footsteps. Heavy footsteps. The stench burned her nostrils, it was so strong, so acidic.

There was no voice in her head now. No one recited the words that had been in the note her mother had written and left on the desk in Talaya’s bedroom. The note that was meant as Regina’s goodbye to her only child. The note that Talaya had stared at every night for six months after burying her mother. The note that was now neatly folded and in its original blue envelope, in the top drawer of the dresser Talaya used in Ridge’s bedroom.

The footsteps were growing closer and Talaya moved slowly to turn in their direction. She wasn’t going to hide behind the door this time. To lay in the bed and pretend to be asleep, pretend to be dead like her mother. This time she was going to face him, face the man walking toward her and whatever he planned to do to her.

But when she turned, he was just standing there, blood on the front of his white shirt and his black suit jacket. Splattered blood on the left side of his honey-complexioned face and down that side of his neck. Blood all over his hands and on the knife he still held. It dripped from that knife. Big, thick drops of crimson fell from the sharpest edge onto the floor. There was a puddle there now and the more the blood dripped, the bigger the puddle grew until it was up to Talaya’s knees, then her arms and up to her shoulders. Until she wondered if this were the moment she would drown in pain and misery, or…

Talaya bolted up in the bed gasped for breath and her heart thumped wildly. A scream threatened to bubble up through her throat but she slapped a hand over her mouth to keep it inside. She didn’t want to wake Ridge, not this time.

Tonight, he’d finally given in and taken something a little stronger for the concussion the doctors had also informed him he sustained in the accident. He had promptly fallen asleep afterwards. She didn’t want to interrupt his first night of pain-free rest. So, she hurriedly got out of bed, pushed her feet into her slippers and left the room.

As she moved through the hallway, she attempted to replay the dream-turned-nightmare in her mind. Wanted to recall it so that she could pick apart the exact moments that brought the fear back, had lodged it in her throat until she’d wanted to choke. Then, she thought better of doing that. To be precise, she recalled her latest therapy appointment instead.

“What do you think your subconscious is trying to tell you?” Vivica Chimery, her therapist asked.

“That I should probably be locked away somewhere instead of out here pretending I can have a normal life.” If there were one place she could admit that depressing thought, Talaya had known it was there behind the closed door of Vivica’s office.

“Maybe your perception of what’s “normal” is what needs to be addressed,” Vivica said in that soothing voice of hers.

Talaya raised a brow. “Normal meaning I’m not dreaming of killing people or being killed every other night. Normal meaning I can be with a man who loves me and not feel like I’m shortchanging him because I can’t get my shit together.” She huffed. “Normal meaning I’m not taking a handful of medications every morning just to keep from crumbling throughout the day.”

Vivica nodded. “What would you say if I told you to create a new normal?”

Talaya didn’t immediately respond and Vivica folded her hands in her lap. She sat about six feet across from Talaya in a matching armchair. Her notepad and pen were on the small table beside her and she had one leg crossed over the other. Big, red-framed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose and her natural hair was styled in shoulder-length two strand twists.

“What if normal for Talaya is being with a man who loves her so completely, she knows without a doubt that each time she awakes from those nightmares he’ll be there to pull her into his arms and soothe her fears away?” Vivica arched a brow. “What if Talaya’s normal is knowing that her willingness to continue with a process that helps to keep her grounded in the world she wants to thrive in, and to remain with the man she loves who has also opened his heart and mind to seeking treatment is a big achievement? And,” Vivica continued and moved one hand so that she could rub her finger over the inside of her opposite wrist, signaling to Talaya that she was now referring to the therapeutic reminders Talaya had there. “What if every step you’ve taken toward rebuilding yourself and rising from the ashes was so that you could soar into love and fulfillment?”

What if?

The question resounded in her mind as Talaya walked down the stairs in the dark. She hadn’t wanted to take the lift and risk the sound of it waking Ridge. On bare feet she passed through a foyer she now knew very well. The door she’d stood on the other side of ten months ago and tried like hell not to let her gaze fall to the sheet Ridge had held over his naked body was to her right. A ghost of a smile spread across her face even as a shiver of arousal coursed through her body.

She continued moving through the space that had come to be her home. The first time she’d been here she’d worn her Balenciaga knife pumps, the ones she’d used one whole paycheck to purchase. Upstairs, in a closet that the flat she’d lived in last year could easily fit inside of, she now had a wall of shoes—Balenciaga, Prada, Jimmy Choo, and other names she couldn’t recall. She had clothes and books because there’d been none of her favorites from her childhood in the library at the back of the house. Ridge loved history and art, which wasn’t surprising considering the collection he had throughout the walls of this place. So, the relatively small library had been filled with those books. But one of the first things she’d begun to change once he’d informed her that this was her home too and she could do whatever she wanted to be comfortable, was to have a second wall of built-ins constructed in the room. And she filled the shelves with books by Judy Blume, Sweet Valley High books, A Wrinkle in Time, The Skin I’m In and so many more that she’d spent the moments she wasn’t studying, getting lost in. On the rare evenings when she was in the house alone because Ridge was either at a late meeting or whenever his card games weren’t cancelled, he was with the guys or in the game room with Sage and Dino, she grabbed one of her favorite big mugs of hot tea and curled up on the comfortable couches she’d also added to the library. With one of those books in hand she was immediately transported to a time when her life was good, calm, happy.

Tonight, or rather in the early morning hours, she walked into the reception room—it had taken her a while to get used to calling it that as opposed to a living room as she had when she lived in the States—and felt another sort of serenity. Moving on memory alone, she cautiously made her way to one of the end tables and leaned forward to switch on the lamp. When golden light flooded that corner of the room, she took a step back and stared at the wall of portraits there.

“I love Black women. Each of these portraits represents a different Black woman on her journey through life. They represent the strength and resilience I’ve had the pleasure of seeing in all the Black women I’ve loved.”

She smiled at the memory of Ridge saying that. At how warm and proud it had made her feel to hear him declare his unyielding appreciation for the woman who gave birth to him and all the women who looked like her. This portion of the wall was filled with painted portraits, the newest one in muted colors that reminded her of the old 70s Blaxploitation movies her mother used to love. The woman in this one had big curly hair and wore large hoop earrings. She was standing with her head thrown back, eyes closed with a look of pure contentment on her face. Ridge said it reminded him of her.

He loved when she left her hair to its natural curls but as it had grown out in the past months and she’d started working at the foundation, she’d wanted a more professional look. Had wanted to make sure that she was portraying an image befitting Ridge Donovan’s fiancée and the director of the Donovan family’s newest foundation. She wanted to fit in to his world of privilege and wealth in the same way her mother had fit into the world her father had used as a cover for his true nature.

That thought brought an unwelcome wave of sadness. This room had been the beginning of a peace she’d longed for and hadn’t thought she’d ever find, a peace she was still struggling to maintain. So, she turned away from that portrait attempting to leave that thought behind. On the other wall across the room there were three relatively new large, framed photos. She walked over to that wall and stared up at them. They were from Uncle Bernard’s wedding, the one that had taken place last Christmas in Sansonique, before Trent had been shot.

Ridge wore a tailored black suit with a tie the same cranberry color as the CK Davis original gown she wore. They were a stunning couple with his brooding good looks and her…damn, she looked like a movie star, or at least a woman with a bank account that could keep her looking glamorous and fine as hell. The center picture had them posed in an embrace that resembled some of the prom pictures her classmates had shown her. She hadn’t gone to her junior or senior prom as those were her early years in Houston, the years she’d first begun to hide.

The two pictures on the side were of them in different poses, still couple-like, but more seductive, sexy. They truly looked amazing and butterflies began to dance in the pit of her stomach at the thought of how happy she was while taking the photos. Ridge had taken those moments before they’d gone out to join the family for the ceremony, to tell her he loved her. She’d admitted her love to him then too, even though she was certain she’d fallen in love with him in the weeks prior to that day. Still, she’d been floating on those words, enjoying the seemingly immediate acceptance from all his family and believed that she was experiencing her own happy ending.

“The engagement photo shoot pictures should be coming from the framers next week,” Ridge said from behind her.

She jumped at the sound of his deep rich voice and then calmed when he eased his arms around her waist. He pulled her back against his front and leaned in to touch his lips to her neck. There really was nothing like this feeling. In this moment, with this big strong man at her back, where for the last ten months he always seemed to be, was almost surreal. A dream she hadn’t allowed herself to dream come true.

“I want a child,” she blurted out and felt him stiffen behind her.

His arms loosened around her waist but she immediately grabbed onto them, pressing them tighter against her midsection. “Look at this wall of pictures,” she continued. “Do you just see us? Two people who weren’t even looking for each other, but who found one another just the same.”

“I…uh…yeah, but…” He stammered and she swallowed all the fear and worry that circled in the pit of her stomach like a raging storm.

It wanted to surface so badly, had begun in the depths of that dream-turned-nightmare. Those familiar emotions that had been attempting so fiercely to break her down in the past weeks were on double-duty tonight, focused and strengthened, ready to do whatever to keep her in a place of loneliness and despair. But there was another part of her, a part the young Talaya had hidden that long ago night as the Grammys were interrupted with that devastating news of her father’s betrayal. That was the part that had dared to dream big, that had been hopeful and enthusiastic about the life ahead of her, the possibilities, the rewards, the happiness. Tonight, or rather early this morning, Talaya knew she had to choose that part of herself to grasp and hold onto. Like the phoenix she had etched into the skin of her wrist, she had to choose to rise from the ashes, yet again, to embrace the things she’d once longed for and to soar into the fulfillment and happiness she yearned.

“What if there was more?” she asked, her voice trembling in those last words. “What if once those engagement photos come, you have them hung on this wall too? And then, we add more photos of us with a little Black girl who will grow up and represent one of those Black women you love and admire?”

When he loosened his grip on her this time, she let him. She didn’t resist when he kept her close but turned her until she was facing him, his hands now at her back, hers going up to flatten on his bare chest. He’d come down to find her without putting on a robe, not that he ever wore one of the half dozen he had upstairs in their closet anyway. He only had on his boxer briefs, even his feet were bare.

“What are you saying, Tee? Make it plain,” he told her. He stared at her pointedly, expectantly and with a touch of uncertainty.

She swallowed and then blinked, dared herself to falter now. Fleetingly she thought about turning her hands over so she could glimpse the word and the symbol on her wrists, to pull from that intentional encouragement like she’d done so many times before, but she didn’t. Not this time. She knew it was there and that was enough, but tonight, she was doing this on her own.

“I want to adopt a little girl,” she told him, her lips spreading into a smile as this time, excitement bubbled in her stomach. “I met her almost two years ago through the agency. Her parents are dead and she was physically abused by the first few foster parents we placed her with. She’s in a great home now, but that’s only temporary and because she’s a little older and there’s a medical issue that has to be revealed in her records, she hasn’t been adopted yet.” The words rushed out and she knew by the furrow of his brow that it was a lot for him to digest, but still, she kept going. “Her name is Imani and she’s adorable. She’s eight years old and smart and loves to sing and dance. Her laugh is absolutely contagious and she gives the best hugs.”

He put a finger to her lips and she stopped talking, her fingers balling into fists on his chest as she prepared to combat whatever negative thing he might be about to say.

“Breathe,” he instructed.

She blinked again, then did as he said. Taking a deep breath, she released it slowly, never taking her eyes off him.

He lifted a brow and said, “again.”

She obliged, letting the next breath have the desired effect of calming her racing heart just a bit and relaxing her shoulders.

“Now, come on over here and let’s sit down.” He pulled back from her but grabbed her hand in his and led them to the couch.

Again, she did as she was told, taking a seat right beside him on the couch. Only part of the reception room was illuminated by the lamp she’d turned on, but it was enough that she could see him clearly even though where they were now sitting was a few feet away from where they’d previously stood. Ridge continued to hold her hand as he angled his body so that he was partially facing her. “I need to tell you something,” he said and the moments of excitement she’d allowed herself started to falter.

“Tell me what?” she asked.

He cleared his throat and then it was his turn to take a deep breath and release it slowly. “I got a call from Renata’s mother.”

For a moment, Talaya was confused. Then the name clicked in her mind and her eyes widened. “Oh. Is everything okay? Did something happen to Khady?”

Khady Donovan was a name Talaya would never forget. The baby girl’s face was one that would forever remain etched in her mind. This was the child that had brought her to Ridge’s door ten months ago. She was the catalyst to Talaya finding the love of her life.

“She’s fine,” he replied and then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “She’s actually pretty cute. I mean, she’s a very sweet little girl. She just turned a year old over the weekend. I don’t have much experience with babies, but from what I saw she looked happy and healthy and I—”

With her free hand, Talaya touched her fingers to his lips, the same way he’d done her moments ago. “You saw her?” she asked when he went quiet. “When?”

He used his free hand to grab the wrist of hers that was near his face. Then, he closed his eyes and kissed her fingers. When he opened them again, his gaze locked on hers. “A few days ago. Monday afternoon.”

When she only stared at him, he continued. “The meeting with Khady was arranged after Renata’s mother called me last week and asked if I would come to her restaurant to talk. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted but I also couldn’t not go. It was odd and Sage was pissed because she didn’t have time to prepare for the meeting, but I wanted to go.” He sighed. “I guess a part of me felt like I needed to go.”

Talaya didn’t know where this was going but something in Ridge’s eyes had her speaking softly instead of raging because he was just now telling her all of this. “The DNA results, they were real, weren’t they? I mean, you didn’t have them altered just because you didn’t want to have a baby with a sex worker?”

He jerked back as if she’d slapped him. Then he removed both his hands from her and rubbed them down the back of his head. “I guess I deserved that,” he said but the frown marring his face told a different story. He hadn’t liked her question, but she hadn’t liked having to ask it, so she figured they were even.

“The rich playboy could certainly afford to make his troubles go away.” That statement was more somber than the…what? Had that been excitement she’d heard in his voice when he’d talked about Khady?

“I don’t know what to say.” She admitted. “I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me.”

He nodded. “Right. Okay. So, Renata’s mother, she asked me to call her Aida. She’s sick. Leukemia. And she wants me to take custody of Khady.”

The hits just kept on coming in spiky slashes of shock that now assaulted her. She fell back against the couch, stared forward at nothing and sighed.

“I reminded her that I’m not that baby’s father and she accepted that. She told me that Renata had wanted me to be.” He moved so he could lean forward and drop his elbows to his knees. “I think we all knew she wanted me to be the father. But you know what, Talaya? The really surprising thing, especially to me, was that for an instant, for the barest moment ten months ago, I’d wanted to be the father too.” He shook his head. “I mean, I was pissed that Renata would put my name on that child’s birth certificate without saying a word to me, and then put the baby up for adoption, knowing that I would be contacted. I was angry at the fact that I’d put myself in a position to be used in that way, even though I knew I’d used a condom each time I’d been with Renata or any other woman for that matter.

“But later that night after you’d first come here to ask me to sign away my parental rights, I thought, what if it were true. What if I was going to be a father? How would that make me feel?” He dropped his head then.

Talaya closed her eyes at his words. She clasped her hands in her lap and sat perfectly still.

“I never thought about having kids. I come from a big family so it’s obvious the Donovans love to procreate.” He gave a wry chuckle. “They love to fall in love and build families. Even those of us who fight love every step of the way, seem to always succumb to it, then as if that’s the moment when our lives really begin, we start to build on the legacy that was started long before us.”

She opened her eyes to see that he had turned his head back and was now staring at her. “Maybe I wasn’t ready last year,” he said. “I think I needed to find you first. To succumb to love before my life could really start.”

A gasp escaped her throat because words seemed to be trapped inside her mind. Or was it her heart? There was a part of her that wanted to ask why he was just telling her this now? Why she hadn’t known until this very moment that he wanted children? But she was afraid she already knew the answer to that.

“So, you were holding something back from me because you were afraid of hurting my feelings?” she asked. “Does that sound familiar?”

For a few seconds he only stared at her, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Ha. Ha,” he said, obviously recalling their argument from Monday morning when he’d been pissed that she hadn’t told him about the phone calls and text messages she’d been receiving. “Very funny.” He conceded with a nod. “But yeah, you’re right. I was a little leery about bringing up this topic since I knew what you’d gone through in an effort to stop what you thought was your tainted bloodline. I never want to hurt you, Talaya. Not by anything I say or do.

“I was going to tell you that night at the party, but then Yolanda showed up and things just spiraled from there. And once we were home the next day, well, you know what’s been the focus since that time—finding out why the DuPonts seem to be fixated on me.” He shrugged. “But the fact remains, I shouldn’t have come down on you for keeping things from me, when I was doing the same thing. But that all stops now,” he said.

In the next instant, he was sitting back on the couch and pulling her over until she was cradled in his lap. “No more secrets,” he said staring meaningfully at her.

She’d looped one arm around his neck and now reached up to touch the soft hair of his beard. “No more secrets,” she said. “But what do we do now?”

He reached up to place his hand at the back of her neck, then pulled her face close to his. “We figure this out together,” he said before kissing her on the forehead. “We talk about how we both feel about being parents.” Another kiss to the tip of her nose. “And then we decide how best to move on from there.” He kissed her lips.

She kissed him back. Just a quick closed-mouth kiss, but it was soft and reaffirming, so she did it again.

“You okay with that plan?” he asked as he brushed the tip of his nose against hers.

“I am,” she nodded and pressed her lips to his again.