Forever An Ex (8 page)

“Me, too,” I said just as the knock came on the door.

“That's Dad!” Stepping away from me, she swung the door open.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bobby said to Angel, and then looked up at me.

I crossed my arms.

To Angel, he said, “So, you're ready, kiddo?”

“Yup!” She turned back and hugged me again. “Thank you, Mommy. Thank you for letting me go.”

I blinked as fast as I could to keep my tears away and kissed the top of her head over and over. Truly, I didn't want to let this girl out of my arms, but then I had to. “You have a wonderful time,” I whispered.

The tears in my eyes made her hesitate, so I pasted the biggest, silliest, toothiest grin on my face. That was when she grinned, too. I nodded at Bobby, and he gave me a sad smile before he led our daughter away.

Right after she stepped over the threshold, Angel turned around and I gave her a finger wave. Then I closed the door.

Those last moments had literally taken my breath away, exhausting me so much that I didn't have the energy to hold back my tears anymore. So, I just let them flow.

As I cried, I kept telling myself how ridiculous this was. Angel was just going away, just for a little trip, just for a week.

So why in my heart did I feel like my daughter was gone and was never, ever coming back?

Chapter

Nine

T
he thing about drinking alone is that I feel like such an alcoholic.

But what else was I supposed to do? Noon was still hanging hard with Brett. And Sheridan and Kendall only drank on special occasions. Though if I called them, I might be able to convince them that this was certainly an occasion when something special was happening.

But since Noon was busy and I hadn't called my girls, it was just me and my colored girls' wine, as Noon liked to call my Moscato.

I raised my glass for another sip, and that was when I noticed that my glass was empty. Thank God I didn't have to go far. I just picked up the bottle from the floor and filled the flute. Once I had my wine in place, I leaned back on the couch and went back to flipping through the photo albums.

From the moment Angel was born, I'd been an old-­fashioned mother. I took pictures of everything. Every moment of her life was important, so I had thousands of pictures. Most were digital, but I had hundreds printed out and stuffed into albums. There were eleven albums in all—one for each year of Angel's life.

I'd already been through the first four books, crying over every memory. And now that I was on her first days in kindergarten, I was bawling so loud I was sure that a neighbor would soon call the police.

Each photo drew me deeper into my depression, made me feel like I was attending a memorial.

Somewhere beneath my wine, I knew that I was being a little extra. But I could blame it all on the alcohol and Caroline. That devastating combo was lethal.

Then, the knocking began. At first I thought it was in my heart, then my head, and finally, I realized that it was the door. That made me frown so hard my forehead hurt.

Since the concierge called up all visitors (well, except for Bobby), I figured one of my nosy neighbors had heard me crying and was just checking before they dialed 911.

My plan was to rush to the door, but when I stood up, the floor rocked and it took a moment for the ground to steady. Then I staggered to the front of the condo and yanked open the door.

And there stood Bobby. With his gorgeous, grinning face.

“Hey, you!”

Talk about memories. That was the way Bobby used to greet me when we were in love.

But I couldn't focus on the past because I was trying to figure out the present. “What're you doing here? Is Angel all right?” I peeked over his shoulder as if I expected to see my daughter right behind him. But when I didn't see her, fear washed over me. “Oh, my God! Did something happen to Angel? Did something happen to the plane?”

“No, no, no!” he said, holding up his hands and trying to answer all of my questions at once. “There's no problem. They got off all right. Everything's good. I just came back to check on you.”

“The plane took off?” I asked. Before he could even answer me, I busted out in tears. “She's gone!” I sobbed like a drunken fool.

“Awww, Asia, come on.” He stepped inside, and when I turned back toward the living room, he closed the door and followed me.

I wondered what I looked like to Bobby as I stumbled across the floor that rolled like the ocean's waves. But do you think I cared? I was just relieved that I made it all the way to the sofa.

When he got to the couch, he picked up one of the empty bottles. “Seems like you're having a party.”

“Yeah, a pity party.” I paused for a moment. “I didn't want her to go, Bobby,” I whined.

He placed the bottle on the side table, then sat down so close to me that our legs touched a little. “Why not?” he asked me softly. “For the life of me, I can't figure out why you were against this.”

“ 'Cause she's my baby.”

“She's not our baby anymore. She's growing up.”

“But this is the first time she's been away from you or me for so long.”

He nodded. “I thought about that. But Caroline's going to take good care of her. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, acting like she's Angel's mother,” I said, speaking louder than I wanted to but having a hard time keeping my voice down. “But she's not. And somebody needs to tell her that!” Then I reached toward Bobby. “Baby, give me your phone so I can call your wife. I wanna tell her that she's not Angel's mother and she better recognize.”

Bobby gently grabbed my hand as I tried to pat down his jacket in search of his cell. “Maybe we shouldn't tell her that right now. Maybe we should let Caroline get to France, let her take care of our daughter, and then when she gets Angel back here safely, we can have that talk with her.”

I squinted, then wagged my finger at him. “You got a point. 'Cause she better take care of our daughter.” With a long sigh, I leaned back on the couch and rested my head on the cushions. “I don't know why I feel so sad. I've been crying ever since you and Angel left and I can't stop.”

“Well,” he said, glancing at the empty bottle of wine, “drinking probably doesn't help.”

“What else can I do?” I cried.

“I understand you feeling sad. I mean, you've spent the last eleven years raising her into this fantastic young lady.”

I sat up. “You think so?”

“Oh, my God, I am so proud of Angel. She's smart, she's talented, she loves to study, she has her priorities straight. Think about who she is. That's all because of you, Asia.”

I shook my head. “You know I didn't have nothin' to do with that. That's all you . . . and Caroline. You guys treat her like she's mature.” I repeated Angel's words. “You have all these sophisticated conversations with her and . . . I've done nothing.”

“You've done a lot more than nothing; you've done the important work. Who recognized her talent so early, and got her into all these classes?”

“I'll give you that. But it was mostly because when I was a kid, I wanted to take ballet and I wanted to take acting lessons. But my grandmother hardly had enough money to feed me.”

“Well, you don't have to worry about money anymore.”

I nodded. “I don't because of you.” I leaned forward and covered his hand with mine. “Thanks for that.” My voice quivered. “Thank you for taking care of me.” Then I sobbed more drunken tears.

He pulled me to him and held me until I was too weak to cry anymore. And then, just like Christmas, all of a sudden his lips were on mine. It was a gentle, easy kiss. Well, it started that way. But then it flipped. We went into full-fledged tongue-waltzing, hands-exploring, voice-moaning mode. For a moment I broke away and did that little thing with my tongue in his ear that used to drive him crazy.

It still did 'cause he cried out my name and shoved me back onto the couch. When he rested the full weight of his body on top of me, I spread my legs welcoming him.

After that, I can't tell you what happened. One minute, I had my clothes on, and the next, everything was off. A minute after that, he was naked, too. Then right there on that couch, we joined together the way we used to, the way we had so many times before.

I hadn't had Bobby in six years, but nothing had changed. We did this horizontal waltz as if we'd danced just yesterday. The weight of him was so familiar, his kisses were so wonderful, and the way he stroked me and made me his once again . . . I'm telling you, I jogged right up the stairway to heaven!

It was wonderful . . . until it was over.

Slowly, Bobby lifted himself off of me, still panting.

I could feel it coming; he was about to jump up and begin ranting. He was going to blame me and my colored girls' wine for what he'd just done.

But then the corners of his lips twitched and spread into a smile. And when he leaned over and pressed his lips against mine once again, I knew he was back . . . we were back.

We lay there in each other's arms until I heard Bobby's soft snore. With as much wine as I'd drunk, I would've thought that I would be asleep, too. But our making love was like a dip in cold water. I was aware, I was awake.

As Bobby slept, I gently rolled away. He stirred a little, but when I was sure that I hadn't awakened him, I tiptoed out of the living room, then sprinted up the steps.

All of my energy was back, and it was a good thing because I had to move quickly. Inside my bedroom, I rushed to my dresser and searched through every drawer for that container Noon had given me long ago.

It took a couple of minutes, but I found it, hidden between two pieces of lingerie. Moving to the other side of the room, I opened my nightstand drawer, took out the matching container with my real birth-control pills, and put the container with the fake pills in the drawer.

I wasn't sure what to do with the real pills, but finally, I tucked them inside my purse. I'd get rid of them in the morning.

With a smile on my face, I sauntered back down to the living room and stood over Bobby. He felt my presence, and when he opened his eyes, it took him a moment to remember. But when he looked up at me, every single memory came back to him.

I sucked in my stomach, put one hand on my waist, and posed, standing there in all of my naked magnificence.

And when Bobby reached for me, Noon's Plan B was in full effect.

Chapter

Ten

W
hen I tell you it had been nothing but four days of joy, I am not lying. After that first night, Bobby didn't go home. I mean, he did go to his house to change on Sunday, and then he came back with a few things. But after that, we were always together.

Our life was just like it used to be. We'd wake up in the morning sometime between seven and eight, have sex, then jump into the shower together so that we could make love there. After that, I'd make him breakfast—if you counted toasting a couple of bagels breakfast—and we'd make love one final time before he left for his office.

By six or seven in the evening, he was back. And every day I met him at the door, wearing nothing more than my purple Prada pumps. Then, after we made love, I'd serve the dinner that I'd ordered in from one of Bobby's favorite restaurants and we'd eat, we'd talk, we'd watch movies . . . and have sex for the final time of the day.

At night, that was the best time. It was slow, it was long, it was love.

I was wearing Bobby out, but I was just trying to secure my place—double insurance. Getting pregnant, and then having Bobby so caught up he would never see our baby as a trap.

Of course, I'd always known that I had topped Caroline in the bedroom, but like Noon said, that hadn't been enough before. So this time, every time had to be special. We made love everywhere—from the kitchen to the massage chair in my beauty room. And I used everything—my hands, my mouth, and my legs in ways that made Bobby say, “Damn, girl,” every single time.

We'd just finished one of those times . . . on the staircase. I'd caught Bobby by the door right as he was leaving for work. I was still wearing nothing but my nightie, and when I pushed him down on the steps and went to work, he didn't have any choice but to lean back and enjoy.

I didn't stop till he cried out my name. Then I stood up, leaving Bobby still sprawled out and panting. “Damn, girl,” he said.

With the back of my hand, I wiped my mouth. “Do you think you can walk?”

“Just barely.” He blew out those words.

I got a washcloth from the bathroom, cleaned him up, zipped him up, then sent him on his way.

At the door, he whined like a teenage boy. “I don't wanna go.”

I laughed. “But your big meeting is today, remember? There'll be more of that when you come home.”

All he did was shake his head as he walked out. It didn't even bother me that he hadn't kissed me good-bye. He . . . and his body . . . were still distracted.

Once I was alone, I strolled up to my bedroom and checked my messages. It was just barely after nine and Noon had already left six voice mails. I chuckled and punched her name into my cell; she picked up on the first ring. “You better have a good reason for not calling me back for four days.”

“I do.” I paused. “Plan B is in full gear.” Then I pulled the phone five inches away from my ear.

It took a couple of seconds, but just like I knew she would, Noon screamed. “Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?” she asked over and over again.

I laughed, told her to be calm, then told her how it all went down. “I'm serious, Noon, I had no intention of doing this. I didn't want Bobby, but once I had him . . .”

“Is it as good as you used to tell me?”

I lay back on my bed and kicked my feet in the air. “It's better. Oh, Noon, it doesn't even feel like we've ever been apart.”

“Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore because once you get pregnant, there's no way Caroline will stay with him.”

That was my prayer. “I just hope Bobby won't be mad,” I said. “Though he won't be able to blame me because I make sure he sees me taking my pills every morning.”

“You're still taking your birth control?”

I couldn't believe Noon asked me that. Like I was dumb or something.

“Of course not. I still have those fake pills you gave me when I was thinking about getting pregnant with Scott,” I said, referring to one of the many boyfriends I'd had in the last six years.

“Girl, those things are probably stale by now.”

“They are, but it's just candy.”

She laughed. “Girl, aren't you glad you changed your mind about using them with Scott?”

Just the thought made me shiver. “Don't even speak that out loud. I'm using them now with the man I'm supposed to. I'm just concerned that I might not get pregnant quickly since I've been on the pill for so long.”

“Don't worry about it. Just get that man into bed as much as you can.”

“I'm gonna keep him in bed till Angel and Caroline get back.”

“I guess I won't see you till next week.” She laughed, but then suddenly she sighed. “I'm really happy for you, Asia. This is the way it should've always been—you, Bobby, and Angel.”

“Awww . . . thanks for saying that. The truth is, Bobby Johnson is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and this time I'm going to keep him.”

We exchanged good-byes before I clicked off the phone. Standing there, I thought about all that I'd been through with Bobby: from the way we'd met when I was just eighteen, at an invitation-only party that welcomed the new Lakers to Los Angeles, to how we'd slipped into a comfortable relationship, to having our baby, and then finally breaking up. It had been a long journey, a hard journey, but nothing good came easy.

All that mattered was that now, finally, we were about to do that forever thing.

I gently tossed my cell onto my bed, spun around, and stared into the eyes of Bobby.

I gasped. “Oh, my goodness,” I said, pressing my hand to my chest. “You scared me.”

My heart was pounding, but not because I hadn't heard him come in, and sneak back into my bedroom. My fear came from not knowing how long he'd been standing there.

His expression was solemn and stern and I tried to recall every word I'd said to Noon. We'd talked about the birth-control pills, about getting pregnant, and about getting it done before Caroline came back. If Bobby had heard all of that, or any of it, it was over.

I swallowed hard as he stepped toward me. His eyes stayed on mine and I tried to come up with all kinds of good lies. The best defense was being the first with a good offense, so I opened my mouth to tell the first lie. “Bobby, I—”

Gently, he covered my lips with two fingers. “You are so sexy,” he said.

“What?”

It wasn't until his eyes roamed over my body that I realized that I was standing there still in my see-through black nightie.

“So sexy,” he repeated. “That's why I had to come back.”

“But . . . but . . . but . . .” I couldn't get my words together because I was still recovering, just now realizing that he hadn't heard a thing. “But what about your meeting?”

He shook his head. “I kept thinking about that thing we just did on the staircase . . . I want to do it again.” He wrapped his arms around me. “And again.” He kissed me. “And again.”

As he pushed me down onto the bed, I thought about this meeting. This meeting was the reason why he couldn't go to France. This meeting that he was now blowing off . . . because he couldn't get enough of me.

 • • •

I have no idea how many times Bobby and I had watched this movie, but
The Best Man
was perfect right now. This movie was full of eye candy for women, but I hardly noticed Morris, or Taye, or Terrence, or Harold. None of them had anything on my man. He was the best of all of them, wrapped up into one.

Yes, my man! That's how it felt as we lay in the bed, wearing nothing, chomping down on popcorn, sipping soda, and laughing at the movie.

As Bobby stuffed his mouth with more kernels, I imagined that this was our life for real. All that was missing was Angel, propped in between us. And our newborn, of course.

“What're you thinking?”

I looked up and into Bobby's eyes. “What?”

He tossed a kernel of popcorn into my mouth. “You looked so far away. What were you thinking?”

“Nothing, really. It's just that it's so wonderful to be here with you.”

He leaned over to kiss me, but before our lips could meet, his cell phone rang. And a millisecond later, mine did, too. We frowned at each other, then Bobby moved to the left side of the bed and I rolled to the right.

When I saw Angel's number, I grabbed my phone so fast.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I said, at the same moment that Bobby said the same thing.

For a couple of seconds, I was confused. Had Angel done a three-way? And then it hit me—Caroline had called him at the same time.

“Mom!” my daughter shouted as if she thought I couldn't hear her.

“How are you, baby? Are you still having a good time?”

“Yes, yes, yes! It's even more fabulous than when I talked to you the other day. We went sightseeing and I love the architecture. All of the buildings are old and there's so much history.”

“Are you taking a lot of pictures?”

“Yes, and . . .”

I loved hearing from my daughter, but I wanted to and listen to what Bobby was saying. But the way he was hunched over and whispering, I couldn't hear a thing.

“Mom . . . did you hear me?”

I tuned back in to Angel. “I'm sorry, honey, the connection is bad. What did you say?”

“I said that I really want you to come here with me. Remember you said you wanted to travel this summer?”

“Yes, baby.” Right away I had new thoughts. Of me and Bobby and Angel together in Paris. That trip would be our honeymoon. “Maybe that's what we'll do.” And then I couldn't help it when I asked, “Where's Caroline?”

“She's right here; she just called Dad. She wanted to know how his big meeting went today.”

I wondered what Bobby was going to tell his wife.

“Well, it's really late here,” Angel said. “We're getting ready to go to bed.”

“Okay, I'll see you on Saturday.” And then I said, “I love you,” right when Bobby said the same thing to Caroline.

Damn!

I clicked off my cell, but didn't turn around. I was afraid of what I might see in Bobby's eyes. Right in the middle of our love nest, the call had come in. To remind me that there was another woman . . . his wife.

When I finally twisted around in the bed, Bobby had already turned around and was looking at me.

“Angel?” he said.

I nodded.

“Caroline?” I asked.

He nodded.

“They're having a good time,” Bobby and I said together.

Then we smiled, but I pulled my glance away from his. It wasn't like I didn't know that Caroline was there. Caroline would always be there . . . until she wasn't. It was my job to get rid of her.

But now that Caroline had come into our space, what would Bobby do? How was he going to play this? How did he feel speaking to his wife when he was butt-naked in my bed?

“Asia.”

He called my name softly and I forced myself to look at him. Moving on his hands and knees, he inched toward me. Like a tiger stalking his tigress, he crept toward me, placing one limb in front of the other.

Slowly. Steadily. Seductively.

Earlier, Bobby had called me sexy, but can I tell you that nothing was sexier than this man crawling to me. And when we lay down together, it was like my mind said,
Caroline who?
'Cause I couldn't think, I couldn't speak.

All I could do was surrender.