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Authors: Yahrah St. John

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BOOK: This Time for Real
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“All right, I'll see you in a few.” Peyton hung up. She said goodbye to the security guard and headed out the door. She just hoped that when she arrived things would be back to normal between the two of them.

 

Malik opened a bottle of wine. The wine was to help him relax so he'd appear mellow by the time Peyton arrived. He wasn't nearly there yet, when she rang his doorbell. When he opened the door he found Peyton smiling.

“Hi.” Peyton came inside and started removing her wool jacket. Although she was angry with him, even in jeans and a cashmere sweater he could still stir her senses.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Malik eased the coat off her shoulders with one hand while holding the wine goblet in the other.

“Do you have another one of those?” Peyton asked. It had been a long day and she could sure use a glass.

“I sure do,” Malik said, “but first…” He circled his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. He dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers.

When they parted, Peyton sensed Malik was putting forth a good effort to appear like all was normal, so she
played along. She followed him down the hall to the kitchen, where he took a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and poured her a glass. “Here you are, my dear.”

Peyton accepted the wine and drank deeply. She hopped onto a bar stool at the breakfast nook and stared at Malik. He obviously wasn't going to address the fact that he'd left Saturday morning without saying goodbye, nor returned any of her calls. “I told you my parents were coming, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Malik said, leaning against the stove. “I remember you mentioning it.” He wasn't ready to meet her parents yet, but Peyton was so excited he didn't have the heart to tell her no.

“They'll be staying in my guest room,” Peyton said. “So unfortunately, there won't be any sleepovers while they're here.”

“I understand.” Malik nodded. “I would never disrespect you in front of your parents.”

“Oh, okay.” Peyton laughed derisively and sipped her wine. “I'm glad to see you won't miss me.”

“Of course I'll miss you.” Malik walked over to the bar and stood between her legs. “I'm just honoring your request.”

“Right,” Peyton said, nodding. He was probably looking forward to some distance.

“C'mon, let's go listen to some jazz.” Malik pulled her off the stool and towards the living room. “I got this great CD from this guy off the street.”

Peyton laughed. Malik was always supporting the underdog. She just wished he showed the same support to their relationship.

They spent the remainder of the evening lounging on the couch before retiring to bed. She would have to get up and run home and change in the morning before her
afternoon class. She'd just wanted to try to connect with Malik and see if he'd open up.

After brushing her teeth with the spare toothbrush she kept as his apartment, and washing her face, Peyton climbed into bed wearing one of Malik's old T-shirts. He held open the covers so she could slide in under the cool sheets next to his warm body. Her bottom nestled comfortably against his groin, but despite how good it felt, Peyton was still bothered by Malik's odd behavior and decided to confront him.

She turned over and Malik's dark brown eyes focused on hers in the shadows. “Why did you leave so early on Saturday without saying goodbye?”

“I had a lot of errands to run.”

Plausible excuse.
“You didn't return my calls today.”

“It was busy at the center. It was one crisis after another. Are you upset with me?” Tension ebbed and flowed off Peyton's entire body.

“Yes, I am,” Peyton said, leaning over and turning on the nightstand lamp. “You ignored me. I don't appreciate it.”

“I'm sorry, Peyton. I had a long day. Can't we just go to sleep?” Malik asked.

“No, we can't.” Peyton didn't like his exasperated tone, and she sat upright. Malik followed suit. “Because there's more to it than that. There's something you're not telling me.”

“There's nothing going on.”

“Good heavens, Malik!” Peyton jumped off the bed and spun around to face him. “You're lying. Why do you continue to leave me in the dark? Why won't you let me in? Why won't you let me into your life?”

Tears welled up in Peyton's eyes. “If you're having a bad day I want to know about it. If something or
someone has upset, you can talk to me. I want to help make it right for you. Don't you know that you don't have to go through life alone anymore? I'm here for you, and not just with my body.”

Malik hung his head low. “I'm sorry, Peyton. I'm trying. I've never been in a relationship before, so this is all new to me.”

Peyton came over to his side of the bed and kneeled in front of him. “At some point, you have to take a risk. Don't you think it's time for you to finally let someone inside here?” She pointed to his heart.

Malik shrugged and Peyton could see the wall around his heart shutting her out. “Maybe you want more than I can give.”

Peyton sighed. “Fine, then I'm going to go home.” Peyton rose to her feet. She loved him, but she wasn't sure he was capable of reciprocating that love, and it broke her heart.

“What are you talking about?” Malik said with some panic. “It's late. Come back to bed, Peyton.”

Peyton shook her head. She would like nothing better than to fall asleep with Malik's arms wrapped around her—but at what cost? She had her own heart to look out for. “Not tonight.” She went to the adjoining bathroom and shut the door behind her. She turned on the running water to block out the sound of her crying.

Peyton emerged fully dressed fifteen minutes later and found Malik sitting on the edge of the bed, having another glass of wine. “I called a cab,” he said.

“Thanks.” Peyton headed to the foyer to gather her belongings. She was putting on her coat when she heard Malik walking up behind her barefoot, and she spun around.

“Peyton, I think you're an incredibly smart, sexy woman.”

“Why do I have a feeling there's a ‘but' coming in there somewhere?” Peyton asked, folding her arms across her chest.

Malik sighed. “I think we need to take a break.”

“You don't want to see me anymore?” Peyton felt as if a knife had just been sunk into her heart.

“Peyton…things are just moving too fast.”

Peyton shook her head, and despite her best efforts, a single tear escaped from her eyelids. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Why was he doing this? Had she really been so far off the mark? Why couldn't he let her in his heart?

“Peyton, please say something,” Malik begged.

A horn honked outside. Walking over to the window, Peyton pulled the silk curtains back and saw a taxi waiting on the street. “The cab's here.”

“Call me when you get home, please?” Malik said, gulping the last bit of wine.

Peyton nodded, grabbed her satchel and unlocked the door, but something held her back. She turned and stared deep into Malik's eyes, hoping he'd beg her to stay, beg her not to walk out the door. But he didn't, and so she quietly closed the door behind her.

As he watched the taxi pull away, Malik realized that he was letting the best thing that had happened to him slip through his fingers because he wasn't capable of getting close to anyone. Had Joe Johnson damaged him from ever loving and being loved by another person? Malik threw the empty wineglass across the room and it smashed into the fireplace, shattering into tiny little pieces.

Chapter 13

“I
feel like a fool,” Peyton told Amber as she sobbed on her couch the following evening. They were in their pajamas and had already finished off a small cheese pizza and half a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. “I bought his save-the-world routine, hook, line and sinker.” She'd fallen hard for Malik. A man who didn't want her love. Was she really so desperate for comfort and affection after David's death that she had fallen for the first man that had shown any interest in her?

Amber handed Peyton another Kleenex so Peyton could blow her nose. “I warned you about trying to save wounded birds.”

“Thanks a lot, Amber.”

“No, seriously. Don't be so hard on yourself, Peyton. What makes you so unique is your ability to open up your heart and give so freely. You're not as closed off
as the rest of us. You're kind and giving, and if Malik Williams can't see that, then it's his loss.”

“Well said,” Peyton said, sniffling.

“Give it time,” Amber said. “He isn't the only fish in the sea.”

“But he's the only fish I want,” Peyton sobbed.

Amber laughed. “Oh, how I love you, Peyton.” She pulled her best friend into a hug. “And I will get you through this. Scouts honor.” She crossed her fingers over her heart.

 

“Q, what are you doing here?” Malik asked when Quentin stopped by the center at midweek and found him, along with most of the administrative team, in a temporary office setup in the gymnasium.

“Dante told me you were down and out the last couple of days, so I thought I'd come and check on you—see how things were coming along with the renovation,” Quentin replied, stepping over the extension cords that were running along the floor to the outlets. “Miss Theresa.” He passed by the older woman who was on the phone and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Theresa smiled back at him.

“As you can see,” Malik said, motioning around the room, “we've been displaced. They've already started painting the administrative offices, but we had to keep Loretta up front.”

“When will they be done?” Quentin asked. “And do they need any help?” Quentin was willing to pitch in if it meant the crew would get done quicker.

“No, no, no, they're fine. Richard's hired the best. And the contractor assembled a fine team of painters. The painters have already done the first coat and are working on the second, which should be done by the end of the day.”

“What about the floors?” Quentin asked, sitting down on the last step of the gymnasium bleachers. The entire reception and administrative office floors were ripped up.

“The carpet and tile will be done over the weekend. And then they'll touch up painting, once we're all moved back in.”

“Sounds like everything is going swimmingly,” Quentin replied, rubbing his goatee.

Malik wished he could say the same about every facet of his life. He hadn't spoken with Peyton since she'd left his apartment in the middle of the night. Half a dozen times he'd picked up the phone to call her, but what could he say? She wanted more than he could give.

“And Peyton?” Quentin asked.

Malik rose from his seat and climbed up to the top of the bleachers to keep people from listening to his private business. Quentin followed and sat down next to him.

“Did you guys have a fight?” Quentin queried.

“We're taking a break,” Malik replied. “Peyton's been pressuring me into talking about my past, and then wanting me to meet her folks. And she accused me of not letting her in, of being closed off emotionally.”

Quentin nodded in agreement.

“You think she's right?”

“Yes, I do,” Quentin stated emphatically. “You don't let many people in, Malik.”

Malik's throat began to tighten. “Why can't I leave the past in the past? Why do I have to dredge up all those painful memories?”

“Because maybe, just maybe, it's time you finally started talking about it.”

Malik shook his head. “I'm just not cut out for all this relationship drama like you are, Quentin.”

“I think you're doing yourself and Peyton a dis
service,” Quentin responded, “if you don't see where this leads…” It was time Malik stopped running and faced his past. “I remember how hard it was for Dante and me to connect with you when we were kids. You were angry and you didn't trust anyone. But eventually, in time you let us in. But that was different. We were your boys and we had each other's backs then, but we're not your girlfriend.”

“That's certainly true.” Malik laughed.

“I know that might be hard for you to admit,” Quentin said. “It was just as hard for me to admit that Avery was the one. But you've never been with a woman for this long. There has to be something more there.”

“Such as?”

“Love. Have you ever considered that you've fallen for Peyton, which is why it's so hard for you to open up?”

Malik's brow furrowed. “Love, no. It's definitely not that. I care for Peyton, but I don't think I even know what love is.” Outside of his love for Quentin, Sage and Dante, Malik hadn't known love.

“Ah, Malik, my friend,” Quentin wrapped his arm around Malik's shoulder, “you're in deep denial. That's why I know you've got it bad.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” Quentin replied, because he saw it in Malik's eyes; he was in love with Peyton.

 

“Oh, Peyton, your place is fantastic,” her mother stated when she walked into her daughter's apartment on Thursday morning. “The hardwood floors, the big windows that give plenty of light. It's really quite a find, my dear.”

“If you discount that it's in Brooklyn and my job is in Midtown Manhattan,” Peyton replied, “then yes, it's
great.” She'd tried to maintain a cheery outlook, even though she felt bleak. She hadn't the heart to tell her parents or Jude about her breakup with Malik.

“But the amount of space you get, honey, is priceless,” her father commented.

Peyton smiled. Her parents looked no different than they had a few months before when she'd left Cleveland. Her mother was just as beautiful as ever, with salt-and-pepper hair and a smooth complexion. Her father was equally handsome in Peyton's eyes. Listening to her father's rendition of “My Funny Valentine” on his saxophone was enough to bring anyone to tears.

“It's a good thing you're staying here,” Jude said, bringing the suitcases into the apartment. “My studio is no bigger than this living room, and I pay a mint. But it's close to the action.”

Lydia smiled. “We wouldn't expect any less of you, Jude. You know your father and I are dying to see your play later this evening.” She'd finally accepted that her baby boy was an actor. If he was happy, that was all that mattered to her.

“But first I'm going to show you all around Manhattan, and then later we'll come back and change before Jude's play,” Peyton said.

“Sounds great,” her parents replied in unison.

“Well, I have to get to rehearsal.” Jude kissed his mother's cheek and hugged his father. “Thanks for brunch. I'll see you all tonight.” He waved and was out the door.

Peyton spent the afternoon showing her parents the sights of the Big Apple: the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center and the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Afterwards, they enjoyed a prix fixe three-course dinner in Times Square before seeing Jude's show. Her
parents hadn't mentioned Malik, which was a good thing; but the next morning Peyton's luck ran out.

 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” her mother said, entering the kitchen as she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She kissed Peyton on the cheek. “Mmm, the coffee smells great.”

“It's hazelnut. How'd you sleep?”

“Wonderful,” her mother said, grabbing one of the cups Peyton had set out and pouring herself some coffee.

“I hope you don't mind sitting in on my class today.” Peyton flipped over the ham-and-cheese omelets she was preparing on the gas stove. “I have one later this afternoon.”

“Of course not, darling,” her mother said. “I'd love to see you in action.”

“Good. Then I can show you NYU's campus.”

“And does our day include a stop at the community center?” her mother asked. “I'm dying to meet your beau, Malik.”

“Umm, I'm not sure about that.” Peyton kept her back to her mother. She busied herself finishing her parents' omelets, then began making one for herself. “He's really busy right now, remodeling the center.”

“Oh, that doesn't matter.” Her mother came behind her, rubbing her back. “I don't mind roughing it. It's not like you and I haven't done it before, like when we helped Habitat for Humanity.”

Peyton sighed. There was no way she was going to get around it; after she'd raved about Malik, her parents wanted to meet him. “Why don't we see how the day goes?” Peyton didn't turn around when she spoke.

“And how are my ladies this fine morning?” Her father came into the kitchen looking clean and fresh in a polo shirt and pressed khaki pants.

“Oh, we're just fine,” Peyton answered. She slid her omelet onto a plate and put two slices of bread in the toaster.

“We're sitting in on one of Peyton's classes, and then we'll be meeting her new beau,” her mother gushed.

“Hmm, sounds good to me.” Her father headed straight for the coffee and poured himself a cup.

After breakfast the morning flew by. Her parents attended her afternoon lecture and toured the campus. While they took a break at Washington Square Park, her mother inquired, “Is now a good time to stop by the center?”

Peyton had dreaded this moment since they'd arrived, but she had no choice, she had to play along. She'd gotten herself into this mess, but how in hell was she going to get herself out of it? “Of course.”

Peyton entered the Harlem Community Center with trepidation. She hadn't seen Malik since she'd walked out on him, and he hadn't called her either. How would he react to their showing up unannounced? Would he come out and meet her parents? If not, she would have a lot of explaining to do.

“This is it,” she said, swinging open the front door.

Peyton found the reception area completely redone. The floors had been stripped of the tattered, worn carpet and replaced with multicolored Berber carpeting that could easily hide stains. The walls had been repainted in a warm tan color, far from the original faded antique white. New upholstered chairs, classy lamps and sleek brown coffee tables were sprinkled throughout.

“Looks like the remodeling is coming along nicely,” her mother commented as she and Peyton's father came in behind her.

Peyton introduced her parents to Loretta. “Hi, Loretta, is Malik in his office?

“If you want to call the gymnasium his office, then yes,” Loretta responded. “Go on back, Peyton.”

They stepped around the carpenter that was inside the hallway gluing down the carpet, and headed to the gymnasium. She found Malik, Theresa and several other staff members in the gym. He looked as handsome as ever in jeans and a T-shirt. As soon as he saw her, he rose from his chair and walked towards them.

“Malik Williams, this is my mom and dad, Lydia and Ron Allen,” Peyton said. She was shocked speechless when he pulled her into an embrace and lightly brushed his lips across hers. Peyton was momentarily taken aback and stared up at him.

“Hey.” Malik smiled down at Peyton to reassure her, gazing into her eyes. He could see the anxiety lying in those brown depths. It was obvious she hadn't had a chance to tell her parents about their breakup. Being this close to her reminded Malik just how much he missed her. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Allen.” He extended his hand to Peyton's father.

Her father returned his handshake and said, “You too. We've heard a lot about you. And might I say, this is quite an operation you have, son.”

Malik nodded in agreement. “You have no idea. Has Peyton shown you around?” he asked, lightly touching the center of her back.

Peyton wasn't sure what to make of Malik's behavior.
Isn't that what she wanted him to do?
So why did it disturb her how easily he could fall into the boyfriend role? Had he been acting with her too?

“No, not yet,” Peyton said, turning to Malik. She tried to read his face, but couldn't.

“Why don't I give you a tour of the facilities?” Malik walked them towards the exit. “There's a lot to see.”

Malik showed Peyton and her parents the Olympic-size swimming pool and pointed out the adjacent, remodeled locker room, the computer and game rooms, and then brought them to the kitchen.

“It's not much,” Malik commented. “But as soon as we get the permits we'll be knocking out that wall—” he pointed to the back wall “—and expanding it to accommodate more people. We'll also be adding a food pantry.”

BOOK: This Time for Real
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