Love Redeemed, Book 4 (25 page)

“I’ve used sex to temper you. I’ve withheld it to punish you. I’ve manipulated it even to humiliate you and make you feel as powerless as I was feeling in your world at the time. I did it because I could…because I knew that no matter what my motives were, you’d enjoy it to a fair degree
.” Rayna shifts nervously in her seat. “But recently I’ve realized that I don’t need to use sex to win you over. You made it clear very early on that I only need to give you time and stability. It may have been a late realization, but I get it now.”

My
gaze makes its way to her confused eyes. She’s scared, I can tell.

“
I just don’t want that to be the theme of our relationship. While sex—good sex…” I chuckle and hear Pastor Edmondson snicker under his breath. “…is key in what we’re about to commit to, it’s been an inappropriate weapon that I believe I’ve used against you for much of our relationship. We can hold off for the purpose of demonstrating control over ourselves in that manner.”

Rayna’s eyes flutter. Her mind is turning over my words and I’m sure the prospect of holding off from sex
—great sex. I won’t push her. I’ve put it out there, now the ball is in her court.

“We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight,” I murmur softly to her.

A part of me—a very rational and practical part of me—doubts my proposal. I’ve never denied myself much, especially sex. I didn’t have to; I’ve always had an abundance of offerings. But this isn’t about me. I’ve fucked around and fallen in love with a woman who’s an extremist. Everything she does, she goes full steam ahead. She needs this. And I need her. I just hope that I can execute my proposal with as much ease as I’ve offered it.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rayna

Azmir and I d
o talk that evening over dinner and agree to “delay gratification,” as he’s proposed. He told me he understands that I need it and he’s right. I need to make sure I sacrifice something in exchange for time. I have my hidden reservations about marrying a man I’d known less than a year when I accepted his proposal. I need a bit of traction in the undercurrent I’ve acceded to since Azmir’s entered my world.

Who cares
about abstinence in the 21st Century?

I d
o. I care about my being holistically. I know that I’ve harbored a lot of junk within over the years. This is the walk I’ve decided on to heal myself and I will go full throttle. And when we’ve gone over the conduct of single men and women in previous sessions, self-consciously I’ve wondered would our relationship be less complicated, less intense if we didn’t indulge ourselves in the haze of passion that’s possibly clouded our judgment and prevented us from getting to know each other properly.

I wonder
.

Maybe we
’ve rushed into that aspect of acquainting ourselves rather than discovering pertinent details such as our family history, past hurts, and experiences that’s shaped us into the individuals we are today. How did we come to be as drawn to each other the way that we are? Removing sex for a pair like Azmir and me could determine a lot.

The
what ifs?

What if Azmir and I walk into this thing knowing every secret we
’ve guarded, every demon that’s haunted us, every bone of the skeleton that makes up our pasts? There are so many things that I haven’t shared with him. So many details that remains in my nightmares, but I dare not speak of them in the light of day. As hypercritical as it may be, I need to counterpoise those secrets with a cleansing process that can only strengthen us in this monumental commitment we we’ve been embarking on.

I can
’t lie and say I don’t feel a twinge of self-disappointment in that Azmir had to push my hand at this decision. It’s just that I could never ask him to make such a sacrifice when we aren’t even of the same belief system. I couldn’t have pushed his hand in this because this is personal. The renewing of my heart and mind has been my personal decision.

How lucky
am I that I have a man who agrees to entertain my faith. Azmir said that if it would make me feel any better, instead of putting it out there officially, we can just use short-term goals to lead us up until the day. Secretly, I don’t know if we’ll make it a day, but I’ll roll with his idea and give it a try. We’ve gone extended periods before, but much of that was before living together.

Ironically, work assist
s with our commitment. Azmir’s travel picks up again. He’s barely home, and sometimes I wonder if it’s by design. We speak every day, most times several times a day. It’s become weird, but enjoyable to experience him over the phone. It’s like dating someone virtually. Because we have limited face-to-face time, the telephone and texting thing breathes new life into our communication. I’m learning more of what a day in the life of A.D. Jacobs is like far beyond what those weekly itinerary emails Brett sends over. Azmir’s truly a engineer. I also learn odd intimate facts such as when Azmir experienced his first orgasm with a girl and how he learned to find a woman’s G-spot. Yes, that type of conversation leaves me feverish.

The first two week
s of this commitment, Azmir stayed home about three nights and traveled the remainder. My workload changed in pace as well. In our monthly full staff meeting, Dan Smith announced his latest endeavor, which is working with scientists in creating state of the art prosthetics.

Dan believes
it’s time to revolutionize the world of prosthetic medicine. And he proposes going all out with his new devices, starting with looking for funders, licensing, finalizing the patent, researching more limitations in prosthetic rehabilitation, product placement, profession buy-in, and all those things that one needs to bring a product to consumers. In doing this, Dan explained, he’ll be pulling back from attending and his typical academic obligations such as speaking engagements. The kicker was when he assigned extended roles to the room, mine being research for this venture and most of his presenting at conferences. This sucks considering I have to pull back from attending to accommodate his request. It reminds me of that scheduling nightmare I’d undergone after taking so much time off after losing Michelle.

Dance class always relieve
s stress for me. Jimmie cracks the whip during rehearsals for our next dance exhibit. We’ve been doing a dance interpretation for the
Vagina Monologues
with a group of readers from UCLA in February. It’s a different take on the historical production. My dance troop will do an interpretive dance to the reading that a student will recite. I’m assigned the Angry Vagina. It’s fun and I learn a lot about the many plights of women and the feminine experience.

Bible study continue
s with my subgroup. The girls are still obnoxious and outspoken, but everyone agrees about the messages. One thing that hasn’t change with this group of women is the stares and silent questions I get whenever we’re dismissed and John, my muscle, is waiting on me. I hate this guard dog thing like I do maxi pads. However, Azmir isn’t relenting on his decree back in the fall of me having security with me at all times. For the most part, John has faded into the back like wallpaper, like when I’m out shopping or in church where there’s lots of people around anyway. But at times like this, when his massive presence can’t be ignored, it’s an embarrassing annoyance.

When February arrive
s, I still haven’t decided on my wedding gown. I wake up at nearly four in the morning on a Wednesday with the revelation. I shoot right out of my bed, out of breath with “My wedding gown!” echoing in my brain. What woman remembers her wedding gown just three weeks before the day?

RAYNA!
That’s who!

I immediately
grab the cordless to call Azmir, who’s in Boston. It’s just before seven there, but I need a sounding board. I’m halfway sure that he’s awake and about his day.

“Yeah, baby?” he pants
, obviously out of breath.

“What are you doing?” I nearly scream into the receiver. All types of frightening
images running through my head.

That’
s one of the many fears you suffer while on a celibacy track: your man seeking release elsewhere. During the day, when all your good senses are employed, you can convince yourself of the unlikelihood of that. But during the night, when your body craves him considerably, and all you have is his lingering fragrance from his side of the bed, making your legs quiver, your mind easily capitulates to that fear.

“I was working toward my
fifth mile on the elliptical when your call came through,” I can hear the veiled defensiveness in his tone. “Is everything okay? It has to be almost four over there.”

Okay, now I hear alarm.
And feel guilt, you insecure girl, you!

I wet my dry lips as I squeeze my eyes in disgrace.

“Yeah…everything’s fine,” I answer sheepishly.

“Well, there has to be a reason you’re not soundly sleeping at this hour.”

“I was awakened by a reminder.”

“Reminder? What’s that?”

“It’s when you’ve forgotten a huge detail for likely the biggest day of your life,” I provide.

After a few moments of contemplation, Azmir mutter
s, “My wedding ring? I told you I was good with the two-toned set you sent me a picture of a couple of weeks ago, and that I’d take care of it.”

“No. No, I know. Not that.”

“Then what?” he’s losing patience.

“My gown,” I
exhale. “Azmir, I don’t have a gown.” Speaking it sounds sillier than thinking it. I can’t believe I’ve forgotten, demonstrating my non-girlie existence. He’s probably going to see it as evidence of me not being 100% committed to the idea of marrying him.

“Do you have something in mind?”

Of course not. “No. I don’t even know where to begin,” I sulk aloud.

“I’ll send you the number to the wedding planner, Tessie Bell in West Hollywood. She should be able to provide you a few references.”

I exhale again. Azmir is always there to save the day. I could kiss him right now if he were here. Or drop to my knees and worship him with my mouth, something I daydream about…daily.

God, I miss this man!

Suddenly, I hear noises in the background.

“Who are those people?” I hear bursts of laughter, and someone sounding like they
’re firing off orders.

“Other patrons of the gym. I just told you I was on the elliptical. They don’t have this type of equipment in the rooms at this hotel,” he
informs sardonically.

I sigh
loudly at my ridiculous implication. “Yeah…you did.” I’m stuck. From here there’s no comeback or a turnaround. My insecurities have reared. Celibacy is hard.

“Hey,” he calls
out.

“Yeah?” I shriek
, knowing that quickly he’ll change the course of this conversation.

“When I get home, let’s go out. Somewhere nice.”

“O-okay,” my voice is trying to settle itself. “That sounds great.”

I miss him so much. I kn
ow him so well, I understand in this moment he’s considering just how much he misses me. I know Azmir well enough to know that he’ll never fully articulate it. He isn’t a man of many mushy words. They only pour when I’m way out in left field and he desperately needs to center me. I guess I’m not as bad as I thought this time.

“Call me later?”

“Yes. Of course,” I promise.

“Indeed
.” And I know that’s it.

That
’s the end of this conversation.

Azmir

“So, how soon are you trying to make this transition?” I ask.

“I don’t know, Divine,” Michael answers before chucking a forkful into his mouth. He chews as he considers his words. “I was thinking I’d use your advice from tonight to decide that. I mean, the money is there and there are a few developers knocking, so I guess that call needs to be made now.”

“Well, let me know if I
can be of further assistance. I have a few people that I can link you with to make sure you maximize each endeavor,” I offer.

We’re staying here, at the
Four Seasons
in Boston where I’m doing my last leg of the
Mauve
campaign until after my wedding. I made sure to include a friend of mine, Michael Brooks, while in town. He’s a record executive, based out of New York, and in town himself. He’s been trying to get up with me for a few months, so I invited him and his wife, Sherina, to dinner. Michael wants to start to engage in varied investments to expand his portfolio. I’ve been pretty successful over the years and he’s appreciated what I’ve been able to accomplish.

Earlier,
I’d seen Dawn and Shayna, who are on this particular promo leg with me, en route to the restaurant. They were looking for a place to eat and asked about my plans. Since it isn’t exactly a business, I invited them. We’ve had three events in this vicinity alone in a four-day period. It’s been monumental.

“Yeah, and when you need public relations services, look no further,” Dawn advises then licks her top lip
, making it a seductive pitch. Her lips are a glossy red, unusual for her.

Visibly uncomfortable, Michael adjusts himself in his seat. Dawn and Shayna
have been pretty much quiet throughout the meal, only making small talk with Sharina as far as pleasantries go. Shayna’s eyes flick over to me then quickly to Sherina. It’s clear that Dawn’s pitch has just made her uncomfortable as well. Michael pays Dawn a polite nod.

Sharina squares her shoulders and asks,
“So, Divine, what’s this I hear…you’ve gone and got yourself a wonderful lady? Is she the reason for the new beard?”

Sharina’s obviously picking up
vibes at the table because that sure sounds like leveling question, inconspicuously directed to Dawn. I’ve known Sharina longer than I’ve known Michael. She grew up in Queens with a cousin of mine and our families are pretty close, though Sharina and I aren’t exactly in touch. She used to work for Uptown Records back in the ’90s and we knew many of the same people from the industry, including her husband, Michael, who interned there.

“Divine has had someone sink their hooks into him
and has him growing hair on his face?” Michael carries the joke. They are funny as hell, acting as if Tara never existed. I wonder if word has gotten out that far.

“
Something like that,” I murmur as I pat my face. “It’s only temporary, though. Anyway… How did you hear that?” I ask Sharina, totally ignoring Michael.

“Lenny. He was in town for Liz’s graduation
from cosmetology school a few weeks ago,” Sharina replies. “He said he’s met her and she’s drop dead gorgeous. He mentioned you saying, you’ve
never
come across a woman who can hold a candle to this one.”

Sharina thr
ows Dawn a chasten glance when pronouncing the word
never
.
Don’t start, Sharina.
This is all odd considering Sharina’s never even met Rayna. I guess some women can simply smell blood in the water.

“Ms. Brimm is quite lovely,” Shayna chimes in, attempting to insert some
tactfulness.

The waiter comes to offer coffee, to which we all decline. I ask for the check to be charged to my account. Michael thanks me after vehemently advising it
isn’t necessary since this meeting was initiated by him. Even so, I’ve been so busy lately that it’s taken months to finally sit down with him. I’m sure Sharina tagged along simply to keep in touch. I’m glad she did. They start gathering their things to leave.

“Oh, so, this means you two will be at the big day
in a few weeks?” Dawn asks as she positions her wine glass to her face, drawing attention to her mouth.

“I’m sorry…what big day?” Michael asks
just after standing.

“Big day?” Sharina follows with a dubious glare
as she goes for her ticket for her coat that was checked.

What the fuck
…

“Yeah, not everyone is invited because it’s such an exclusive affair, but seeing how close the two of you seem to be to Mr. Jacobs, it’s fair to say that you’re excited to see him get married.”

“Azmir, you’re getting married? Lenny didn’t mention that!” Sharina gasps.

I loosen the collar of my shirt.

“Yes. I’ve not exactly made the date public, but the announcement went out months ago,” I answer.

“We’ve not gotten an announcement or an invitation,” Sharina croaks. I see Michael smirking behind her, I’m sure his thoughts are mirroring mine right about now.
Women and their catty ass antics
.

Sharina opened the floodgates for this covert attempt of leveling Dawn. And Dawn swooped down, dropping jewels to demonstrate to Sharina that she d
oesn’t know me as well as she’s alluded to by boasting about my fiancée.

“Rina, my beloved is a very private person. She isn’t familiar with the industry you and I practically devoted our adolescence to
,” I explain as I stand. “I’ll tell you what, the next time you guys are out in L.A., look me up and we’ll have dinner. And I have the perfect restaurant in mind. My lady’s palate is partial to Italian just like yours. I’m sure you two will hit it off.”

“Oh, yeah! She already sounds like a kindred spirit,” Sharina beams. “Okay, we’ll do that.”

We say our goodbyes, but I don’t leave the table. Michael and Sharina leave first and Dawn and Shayna are just behind them when I say, “A moment with you two, please.”

Once we’re all seated at the table, the tension is so thick that you can choke on it.

“What the fuck was that, Dawn?” I ask, keeping my voice low. I’m acutely aware of my sour mood over the past couple of weeks. It’s precisely what happens when you go so long without ass—ass that you’ve grown addicted to.

Dawn’s brows lift innocuously. “I was simply extending the conversation. I’d easily gotten the impression they were close acquaintances to you once the business talk had ended
.”

“Dawn, just because I
invite you out to dinner with friends of mine on a whim doesn’t give you the liberty to discuss matters of my personal life.”

“It was a personal dinner
—”

“Make no mistake, Dawn, ain’t shit about us personal,” I interrupt her right away, still keeping my voice soft, as I am speaking to a woman. “For
Bacote & Taylor’s Planning and Public Relations Corp.
this was a business casual meal. It’s always business between us. If you do not subscribe to that etiquette then there will be no more opportunities of this nature.”

“You invited us to dinner, Azmir,” Dawn argues.

“It’s always business,” I repeat. “Had you played it cool and maintained your professionalism, Michael would have inquired about your presence at this meeting during a private conversation, at which time I would have possibly plugged your services. He, being under my influenced, would have considered your
professional
presence tonight and possibly called you up for a consult.”

“I’m sorry, Azmir. I can understand your perspective. It won’t happen again,” Shayna offers.

“Excuse me?” Dawn snaps her head to Shayna. “This is the second time you’ve apologized for me professionally. Let’s make sure you understand it will be the last. Even you admitted to feeling slighted for not being invited to Azmir’s wedding. Am I lying?”

“Dawn
!” Shayna calls out on a gasp. She gets up, excuses herself and then leaves the table.

I c
an’t believe the contents of Pandora’s box. Neither do I have the time to examine them. I stand from my seat.

“I’m going to forget the last minute of this conversation
. I advise you to remember the first few.” I slowly turn as to not attract any more attention to our table than what’s been established.

“Shayna knows I’m in love with you
,” Dawn murmurs. “Does
she
?”

I turn back toward
s the table and observe Dawn twiddling her fingers, staring straight ahead.

“Pardon me?”

“Shayna knows I’m in love with a man who is about to marry another woman. Does Rayna?” Dawn’s eyes then make their way to meet mine. “Shayna says it’s a purely physical attraction and that I shouldn’t dwell on it. She’s wrong. There’s so much more to you than your physical features. It’s everything.” She exhales before returning her gaze ahead. “Rayna should be concerned. Very concerned.”

“Rayna has no reason to be concerned. Ever,” I state
vehemently because it’s true.

Dawn’s head jerks over to me and her eyes fill with emotion. But she slowly nods, saying something that I hope is
,
I’ll let it go
.

I leave her at the table and take to my suite upstairs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rayna

Friday, I enlist the help of the only semblance of a friend I have—Chanell—to visit a bridal boutique with me. I went to one yesterday alone with little success.

So today, w
e’re in Beverly Hills at one of the two boutiques Tessie, our wedding coordinator, recommended. While visiting the first one yesterday, I established the style of gown that I’m in the market for. The gown specialist told me I have the ideal frame for a mermaid/trumpet or column/sheath. I’m more drawn to the mermaid cut, and I want something with simple straps or strapless. I don’t want a lot of fabric, just something simple and less traditional. Now that it’s known that I won’t recite my vows within the four walls of a church, I feel free to be as eclectic as I wish.

The gown I
considered at the first boutique, after three and a half painful hours of discussion, measurements, and selections was a beautiful ivory, Chantilly leaf lace, sweetheart gown with cascading snowflake lace. I was able to try on a sample and adored the delicacy of the fabric that lay well against my skin. I was tired and hungry, and quickly decided on it until I thought to ask the price. When I asked why was it so expensive the specialist explained that it was a 2013
Oscar de la Renta
runway design. Although I’d fallen in love with the cathedral veil that it was paired with, there is no way that I’m asking Azmir to foot the bill for a gown that would only be worn once. And it’s well out of
my
price to even consider.

When I told Azmir about it
last night he accused me of being scrimpy. I corrected him by saying I was economical. He may have been a millionaire for almost two decades, but I’ve never been even close.

So, I’
ve come to the second boutique Tessie offered today. As I’m flipping through the catalogue the bridal specialist provided, Chanell can’t hide her girlie excitement.

“Yo, ‘dis shit right here proper, Rayna!” she shrill
s with little regard to her surroundings.

I mean, this i
sn’t on par with the uppity boutique I visited in Beverly Hills yesterday, but this exclusive spot in Orange County is nothing to sneeze at either.

“Oh, yeah?” I push
out noncommittal.

She screams
that every five minutes. And I’m, of course, aggravated out of my mind with too many options to choose from. In the recesses of my mind, I chide myself for not dreaming bigger in my former years. If I’d been your typical female who had every detail of her wedding and family planning laid out in my mind at least, I wouldn’t be here today, fingering through the fourth catalog in search of my
happily ever after
gown.

“Yeah, Rayna! Word bond! Just come check this shit out. It’s mad cute and lacy. You know, your type
,” Chanell called over.

My finger stop
s on the bottom of the page and my eyes roll over to her across the walkway. “Really? And exactly what is my type, C? Please inform me,” I challenge her.

“You know…bourgeois—but cool as shit…” she clarifie
s. “…but, yeah, definitely bourgeois.”

I
’m temperamental from this mind-numbing task already. I don’t have time for Chanell’s soft jabs.

“What makes me bourgeois, C? The fact that I
know how to spell the word and can tell you its origin?”

“
Maybe. No. I mean, I don’t know.” Chanell pauses before inoffensively shrugging her shoulders. “You prissy as hell, is all.”

“Prissy how?”

“Rayna, man, look at where the fuck we at!” Her eyes go big as her head swings gesturing to the boutique. “This is where you prissy fucks shop. It’s all good though. You still my girl, don’t trip.”