Love Redeemed, Book 4 (52 page)

“Azmir, that’s a lot to be
giving her,” Yazmine admonishes. And while I know, I give a stubborn shrug.

My eyes arrive at my gorgeous wife who is downing a piece of buttered bread as though it’s her last meal. I don’t think she chews it before swallowing and going for another to butter
as she carefully examines the dinner menu. From across the table, I observe Samantha’s pensive stare at Rayna. Yazmine is chatting with Erin when the waiter arrives with our drinks.

“Yes!” Rayna cheered under her breath. “I’m starved.”

“Erin, would you like spaghetti or chicken fingers?” Rayna asks Erin, knowing that although the restaurant doesn’t have a children’s menu, Mario, the sous chef, will fry Erin chicken fingers and fries.

“Spaghetti,” Erin answers.

We all place our orders and nothing’s unusual except for Rayna’s request for so much food. She orders fried ravioli and calamari for an appetizer, and chicken francaise, as well as eggplant parm for dinner. That’s enough for two people. No one mentions it and I wouldn’t dare question her need of such heavy foods. However, I do notice Yazmine giving Samantha a knowing smirk in passing before continuing her conversation with an animated Erin. I sit back and sip my drink.

Women are peculiar creatures.

We
chat while we wait for our food and well into dinner. Rayna’s digging in her meal, seemingly preoccupied with consuming every morsel. Yazmine and Samantha offers their appraisals for the food, which delights me.

“So, Azmir, honey, you own ‘dis place?” Samantha inquires.

“Partly,” I share. “The other owner is the head chef.”

“Oh, nice!”
Samantha beams with joy.

“What made you buy ‘dis Italian place, beloved?” Yazmine asks.

“This broad I was dating at the time fell in love with Mario’s crème brûlée,” I answer casually. Rayna’s head pops up and she squints her eyes. Finally, I have those piercing brown irises on me. “It was a no brainer from there.” Though Rayna was my motivation for agreeing to invest, I’d also believed the new vision for this place was viable.

Minutes later, when Rayna has
run through about half of each plate, she comes up for air. We sing happy birthday to Yazmine and wait for her tears to slow so she could blow out the candles. Then she opens her birthday gifts from Rayna and me; a new gold stud nose ring and a family ring that holds birthstones of Yazmine, my deceased father and me. Yazmine seems to love it and I have Rayna to thank for the gift ideas. After that ordeal, Yazmine and Samantha happily engage in conversations that sometimes includes Erin. It amazes me how these two women who were once complete strangers have cultivated a bond the way they have. They are truly companionable, looking out for each other.

Suddenly,
I notice Erin pivot over to Rayna, rubbing her belly as she chants, “Baby. Baby. Baby.”

Rayna’s hands frantically shoot up to cover Erin’s little ones, and her eyes are about to pop out of her head.

“Erin
!” she whispers forcefully in an admonitory manner. 

“Oh, so it’s out?” Yazmine asks excitedly. “I can’t believe y’all finally gon’ tell us on my birthday.” She turns to Samantha and cheers, “You was right, Sammy; we gon’ be grandmommies!”

Yazmine proceeds to high five Samantha. However, Samantha holds trepidation.

After a few beats, Samantha murmurs, “You
ain’t tell him, did you?”

My eyes
swing over to Rayna whose mouth is agape and her eyes are just the same. I can see her go rigid in her seat. She immediately goes into sputtering, “No…Erin has a teacher…her teacher is pregnant and shared it with the class. She does this to all women now!” she explains anxiously. Then she turns to me, “It’s just a phase that kids go through! I swear…ask her,” she urges.

Needing
to ask a small child about matters concerning my wife seems quite incredulous to me. I won’t be asking
anybody
shit regarding my wife. I glance down at her belly that now has a little bulge, but that could easily be because she full from all the food she’s just inhaled. My thoughts are racing.
What was Samantha right about?
I throw a glance back over to Samantha who, along with her daughter, is holding her breath. Yazmine’s eyes deliberately retreated minutes ago. It hits me that Rayna hasn’t touched her wine.
Shit!
All of a sudden, I can’t remember her last period.

When we’d had sex that night at the marina, after leaving Redondo Beach, it was in the shower. I’d figured that was the best place considering her condition. Now that I think about it, I didn’t see any blood. I was expecting it, but dismissed it knowing I’d never had sex with a woman while she was menstruating, so I didn’t know what to look for.
Could it be because she wasn’t bleeding after all?
But she hadn’t been expecting me that night in Redondo Beach to put on a fucking tampon as a front.

You’re buggin’ the fuck out, Divine!
Rayna would never keep this from me.
Would she?

I know the answer.

My eyes shoot back over to my wife who is now visibly shaking. My glare is sharp and well-intended. I am sure to be unequivocal in my inquisition, annoyed that I’m being revisited by flighty, timid, conniving Rayna Brimm.

“
No. I prefer asking you.” My eyes scan her small waist once again before I ask, “Are you pregnant?”

Rayna

Is there something about that restaurant that begs my secrets out of the closet?

I ponder this as I walk into the apartment. I
immediately hear Azna running towards the door, trotting the same pace as my racing heart. I’m bracing myself for this showdown with Azmir. When we abruptly ended dinner at
DiFillippo’s
, Azmir left for the marina and I returned Princess Erin to Amber and Brenda before meeting my seething husband at home.

As I enter into his office, I can hear Azmir finishing a conversation. His daggering eyes pin me in place.
Crap!
This isn’t going to be good.

“Tomorrow morning will be fine. I’ll see her then. Yeah…
Thanks again for agreeing to this at such short notice,” he mumbles then hangs up.

“Azmir,” I try to cut him
off at the path. “I know what you’re thinking and—”

“You couldn’t possibly know what I’m thinking. And you damn sure haven’t a clue as to how I’m feeling, so let’s get th
at shit straight now.” His brow line is hiked, telling of anger. Brooklyn is definitely in the house and I feel like I’m being pushed out of his ring of trust.

I exhale and find my eyes rolling. “I was going to tell you.”

“WHEN?” he shouts. I try to hide the tremble of my frame.

“If you would
give me a minute, I can give you the timeline of all of this—”

“Fuck your timeline
!” he barks as he jumps from his chair.

Azmir treks toward me, but not to me.
Man, what I would do to have him curl his strong arms around me right now.
I’ve been emotionally crazed for weeks now. Instead he goes over to the small table in front of one of the built-in book cases and retrieves his iPad mini.

“Your timeline never includes me or my feelings,” he
grates as he stands, towering over me. The coochie-creaming smile that is now most sinister crests his luscious lips shoots straight to my groin.
Yes! I’m thinking about sex in the same moment I’m fearing my husband’s wrath
. This must be the pregnancy. As I’m fighting to keep my tears at bay, all I can think is
he smells delicious
. “But this time I have a say. This time I know you’re carrying my baby and you will not be haphazard about it. No more secrets for you. No more incommunicado decisions. The game has changed.”

“Azmir, it’s not like that,” I try again to get him to reason.

“Oh, really?” he snorts, then he cocks his head to the side and pushes his tongue into his molars. “Is that why you inconspicuously inquired about me counting your cycle? Was that to gauge if I was on to you or not?”

I wet my dry
lips with my tongue. My eyes squeeze shut. “Yes and no,” I mutter.

“Yes and n…” he repeats, studying my response.
His eyes are cold, harsh. “I choked you yesterday! Do you know how fucked up I feel…because you couldn’t tell me that you’re pregnant?”

He
then moves behind me and leaves the office. I don’t know what he meant by that statement, but I do know I want to hurl over and bawl my eyes out. I feel slighted and ill-targeted. He didn’t even let me tell him that I wasn’t keeping this from him. My shoulders sag as I make my way to the bathroom to shower. I move without motivation and when I arrive at the bed to turn down, I see Azmir isn’t in his usual spot in the sitting room, working on his next acquisition while watching several sports channels on one screen. I make it all the way to my pillow before the first tear falls.

The following morning,
I’m awakened by faint sounds of clanks and banging. I sit up from the bed and can swear I hear voices out in the hall. I shuffle from beneath the covers, disturbing Azna’s sleep, and make my way out the master suite. As my steps progress out of the room, the noise and chatter becomes louder and clearer.

There are several men
dressed in coveralls, holding measuring devices and tools that I can’t name, coming in and out of the guest bedroom that closest to the master suite. One nods as we pass each other. I peek inside the room to see what all the ruckus is about to find it nearly empty, the men stripping it bare. I can’t recall Azmir telling me about any repairs being done. Instead of asking the beefy men their business here, I decide to go and look for the man of the house. As I make my way to the front of the apartment, alongside one wall of the corridor, I see at least half dozen shopping bags with
Vivienne Westwood London
printed across the front in gold. I’m only familiar with the name from Michelle’s baby shower. I shake my head and continue my stride. 

I don’t find him until I’m in the
antechamber of the great room. His broad back faces me and I can see from his posture that he has one arm wrapped across his abdomen and his other hand pinching his chin. His legs are tall and thick in his stance, clad in basketball shorts and sneakers. I can tell he’s been for a run already.
What time is it?
I can tell from his stance that he’s conversing with someone considerably shorter than he is.

As if he can sense me, he glances over his shoulder
and I can see the mood flip in his eyes the moment he recognizes me. Azmir shifts so that I have clear view of the older mocha skinned woman who’s wearing fancy medical scrubs. She’s somewhat robust and middle-aged. Her smile appears as she registers my presence.

“This must be her,” she states rather than question
, and I can see her eyes behind her spectacles zooming in on my belly.

I cross my arms over my abdomen, feeling exposed. I’m still in my pajamas and haven’t even washed my face yet. There are strangers all through
out the apartment that is rarely visited by strangers. I notice Azmir’s gaze goes soft when it lands on my belly, but is hardened once it arrives back at my face. A pang runs through my chest.

“Yes,” Azmir confirms. “Ruby Mae, this is my wife, Rayna Jacobs.”
His intonation is more mechanical rather than a gushing newlywed, introducing someone to his bride.

“Hi, Mrs. Jacobs! It’s a pleasure to meet you two
.” Her shoulders rise and her upper torso caves in simultaneously, signaling her excitement as she treads towards me and places her hand over my belly.

I flinch and my eyes shoot over to a pensive Azmir
who suddenly cannot show me his eyes.

“Azmir
, who is this woman?” my tone is curt and I don’t care. I smell something foul in the air.

“This woman, Ruby Mae, is your nurse. She’ll be at your healthcare disposal from now until you deliver to ensure optimal health for you and the baby.” Azmir’s CEO mien appears.

WHAT?

I take a mental breath, not want
ing to lose it in a house full of strangers. Azmir is being unreasonable. I really don’t know how we’ve arrived to this battlefield because it’s all happened so quickly. I’ve lost my pace in the race here. 

“Why is it n
ecessary for me to have a round-the-clock nurse?” I shake my head, expressing my incredulity.

“Well, given your history of…miscarriage I feel it’s necessary
,” he utters firmly. That stung. Bringing up my past failure is just mean.

“This is ridiculous! I just got rid of one bodyguard only to get another?”

“I’m just doing what’s right for the baby,” he states coolly.

“And what about what’s best for me…for my mental health? Are you concerned about that at all?”

“You have you to look out for,” he grates. “I have to look out for me and my child. Somebody has to.”

I cup my mouth. Okay, this is on another level. He’s waging war.
There is no warmth in his tone, no comfort in his sexy baritone.

“Pardon, Mr. Jacobs.
” One of the construction workers walks up to Azmir and asks, “A word about the flooring…”

Azmir nods and murmurs, “In a minute,” rather clinically.

“And who are they? My cell builders?” I sneer.

“No, they’
re from a boutique in Orange County, stripping and prepping the room for a nursery.”

“Nursery?” I gasp. “Azmir, you don’t even know my due date.
We don’t even know the sex of the baby. This is way premature!” I’m feeling light-headed.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Ruby Mae takes me softly at my right arm and
left shoulder. “You look a little pale.” I bite back asking her to remove her hands.

I feel like I’m losing it. My stomach is turning over, my bladder is full, and my head is spinning. I try to take a few breaths before I soil the Italian marble I stand on and corroborate his
adamancy of me needing medical care. This isn’t my loving and patient A.D. He’s turned into someone cold and defensive…against defenseless me. I need his warm arms, not his arctic disregard. His only concern seems to be this baby and not me. A baby that I’m still adjusting to having been conceived.

“Azmir, what are
we doing?” I sigh while holding my whirling head.

“
I’m
taking control. I have it now…as your husband and the father of that baby,” he points to my belly. “I
now
have a say.”

“Yes, you do
! You’ve always had a say! I’ve never challenged that!” I scream.

Ruby Mae gently takes hold of both
shoulders now, attempting to push me away from the line of fire. “Mrs. Jacobs, you should really lie down and refrain from overexerting yourself. It can affect the baby.”

“You didn’t? I’ll be damned if you didn’
t,” Azmir continues, ignoring her plea. “Last summer you didn’t even tell me that I was a father, even if for a few weeks. You took that away from me! You will
not
have that opportunity this time!”

His words sear me. Suddenly, he doesn’t regard me as a partner. I’m feeling like someone he has to protect his child from, someone he’s protecting himself from. In
this instance, his fear is palpable.

“We can work through this together.
Alone! You can trust me to do the right thing this time,” I beg with Ruby Mae’s warm hands, still gripping my shoulders.

“I don’t relish taking that risk.” His eyes are empty. His voice is
unkind. His soul is absent of his words.
This isn’t my Azmir.

I have to think and think quickly. I must change the course of his anger. It has to happen now or we’re pretty much doomed. There’s no way that we can move
forward disjointed. This isn’t partnership; it’s coexisting. I don’t want it. Not for me or this man who I love fiercely. I’m desperate now, my mind is running, rapidly flipping through words and phrases to make him see that I’ve changed and we can do this parenting thing together. I have to get back on the inside of his realm of trust. Now!

“I’m scared, too,” I bite out forcefully, just above a whisper.
Azmir slightly jolts in my direction, his luscious mouth goes slack. “I’m afraid the one thing, besides me, that you’ve been consistently clear in desiring, I can’t provide.” I suck my tears back, afraid of letting them spill only to be rejected. I’ve always feared his indifference. It’s been something that he’s not been known to express when it comes to me. He’s loved me without limits. That’s all I know of this man, so in contrast to what I’m feeling in this moment.

“Azmir, I want this. I want to share this experience with you. I want to give you an extension of yourself from my loins. I want to give you the family you haven’t had in years. I want this baby to look like you. To persevere like you. To be a warrior just like you.
I want this
. I’m not afraid. Not anymore. Not like before.” I choose to quote the lyrics to the Quincy Jones song he shared with me last summer. I now feel it. They’ve become the theme of my soul regarding our love.

Azmir suck
s in a breath and his eyes go wide as stares at me for moments long. I’m panting, beckoning him with my eyes. I feel exhausted and my bladder is now completely full. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I have to pee. I also need to eat because I feel my stomach toiling, reminiscent of the morning sickness symptom that have recently let up. I don’t want to go back there anymore. I turn and gait down the hallway and into the master suite, swearing if Ruby Mae comes into my bedroom I’m going to cuss her out.

After using the bathroom,
suddenly I feel the need to shower again. I’ve been in here for a few minutes, soaking my bruised ego when I feel his strong arms encircle my waist. Azmir buries his face in my neck and I feel the breeze of his cool breath hitting my sensitive skin.

“Where’s your crew?”
I ask mordantly.

“I’ve dismissed them all feeling we need to discuss a few things first. I’m sorry
,” he murmurs quietly. My frame instantly melds into his, warming to his soothing words.

There is silence for
long minutes as we stand under multiple cascades, wrapped in each other.

“I’m scared,” he
eventually speaks hoarsely into my ear.