Last night in his hotel room, Layla sleeping beside him, Lewis had gotten a call from Freddy.
“She’s hating life without you, man. She’s ready for you to come back.”
“She said that?” Lewis said, pressing his cell phone tight to the side of his face.
“Yeah, said that she missed both of ya’ll and wants you two to come home.”
After the call, Lewis stretched back in bed, thumbed the volume on the TV back up two clicks, and thought about what his next move would be. He thought of calling Monica that second, telling her he was on his way home, but he didn’t want to seem frantic. He knew Monica knew Freddy would call him, so he wanted her to think he got the message but was still deliberating as to whether or not he wanted to come back.
He tilted his head, saw the time on the alarm clock: 10:35 P.M. Lewis would make her wait, go home tomorrow sometime during the day and tell her he accepted her apology and hoped she had decided to go ahead and say yes to his proposal. Lewis smiled to himself, his arms folded behind his head, his feet crossed at the end of the bed.
He wished he had not taken the ring back earlier today, but he had spent more than eleven thousand dollars of Monica’s money on it. He only did that because Lewis knew he would be able to pay it off once the house sold. Freddy’s uncle Henry said together, the two of them should clear around thirty grand.
But still, Lewis didn’t like using her card, didn’t like taking her money like that. He felt it gave her one more thing to hold over his head. Everything would be all right though, he thought, as he allowed his eyes to close. But Lewis had only slept until a little past 2:00 A.M.
He was up, out of bed, scooping Layla up as he had the other night when he took her away from Monica.
Now he was taking her back.
All he could think about while in bed was how much he loved Monica, how relieved he was that she still wanted him. He had jerked out of his sleep, realizing what a fool he was to be playing with her like that. Half an hour later, Lewis was at home. He carefully climbed the stairs leading to the bedroom he had been sharing with Monica.
The door was slightly ajar. His daughter still in his arms, he turned around, shouldered the door open, and backed into the room.
It was dark, but Monica was there. She lay on her side but was not asleep. Lewis heard her sobbing quietly. He walked around the bed to her, lowered himself to his knees, placing Layla beside Monica.
Monica opened her arms, took the child, hugged her, and kissed her face.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Lewis said, wrapping his arms around the two of them.
“No, I’m sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have walked out of here, but I need to know that you want to be with me. I know how bad you were treated when you were married. But I would never hurt you like that. I promise.”
“I know, Lewis.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
“I want you to marry me. I want you to be my wife.”
Monica was looking down at his sleeping little girl. She wiped a tear from her own cheek. Monica stared at Lewis for a moment longer than he thought was necessary, and then finally said, “Okay.”
Lewis took Layla to her room and put her to bed, then he and Monica made love. She cried some more, telling him she never wanted him to leave her again. He promised he wouldn’t.
They went to sleep in each other’s arms, and when Lewis woke up this morning, he had never felt more optimistic about their relationship. Then Monica walked out of the bathroom, half dressed for work, and said, “There’s something I want to tell you.”
Lewis smiled and sat up in bed, bare chested. “What’s that, baby?”
“I spoke with my ex-husband, and I’m going to be seeing him tomorrow evening.”