A Heart Not Easily Broken (The Butterfly Memoirs) (32 page)

Brian laughed. “Yeah, your mother says she owes me a big hug and your father promised a hearty hand shake. I plan on making sure they live up to their words.”

After everything went down, I not only told my parents about our relationship, I told them about my rape. Hearing how Brian fought Javan in retaliation won them over, especially my father. Now, a month later, they were flying in to spend Christmas in California, breaking my mother’s long-standing tradition of having the entire family home for the holidays.

“I still can’t get over the fact they agreed to stay at my parents’ house,” he said. “My mother is working my father like a drill Sergeant to get things ready for them. You’d think the president was coming.”

I laughed. When it came to entertaining guest, Mrs. Young had no problem making Mr. Young get things done. She did bark orders like a drill Sergeant.

“It’s not every day you meet your future in-laws,” I reminded him.

I appraised the fourteen-carat white gold band that boasted three Princess cut diamonds. The two smaller stones represented our lives before we met. The center half-carat stone represented the life we were building together. Brian found symbolic meaning in everything significant in our life. In fact, he found another charm for my bracelet. I already owned one heart, but this one was different.

This heart was broken in half and meticulously put back together, a healed heart.

He told me it symbolized what we had gone through. It served as a reminder that with love, constant communication, and work, our relationship could stand whatever threatened to tear us apart.

No matter how many more charms he gave me, this would forever be my favorite.

“Have you finished packing? Peter and Dylan are free on Saturday. Between the four of us, we should have you moved in a few hours.”

“Don’t forget Yasmine and Kaitlyn. They’ll be helping, too.”

“How’s Yasmine holding up? We haven’t talked much since that night.” Brian’s eyebrows creased in genuine concern. He was aware of the emotional trauma Javan had heaped on her.

“She puts on a brave face, but she’s hurting more than she lets on. Her reasoning is at least it was a short engagement. In her mind, four hours didn’t count.” I laughed lightly. “Now as far as me moving out, she’s counting down. My old room is across the hall from hers. It’s turning into her home office.”

“Home office?”

“For her business,
Dreams
. She’s been playing around with the idea for a while now. Since she has free time she’s decided to keep busy by focusing on getting it up and running. Her parents don’t know about it though. Oh and get this, Kaity is her assistant.”

Brian’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You sure you’re not going to feel left out of the loop, you know, not being with your girls?”

I studied the handsome profile of the man I loved with my mind, body, heart, and soul. His blue eyes still made my heart race whenever he looked at me.

“Let me think about it.” I feigned serious thought while ticking off fingers. “We’re engaged. I’m five months away from graduating with a D.V.M. behind my name. If all continues to go well I’m a shoo-in for the job I’ve worked eight years to get. Nala, my dear sweet orangutan, is slowly regaining her health. Um…let me see if I’ve missed anything.” I tapped my finger sarcastically on my chin. “Oh, yeah, my gorgeous fiancé has a job making mad money at a major recording studio. And to top it all off, we’ve just rented a house and are moving in together in less than a week. What is there to miss?”

Brian laughed heartily. “Okay, okay. You’re happy with me. Thanks, my ego needed that.”

“Oh, don’t get it twisted, lover. There’ll still be girl’s night out.”

“And I’ll be waiting, keeping our bed warm until you return.”

Our bed. I love the way that sounded.

“You’d better.” I leaned over to kiss him once we parked.

We emerged from the car. I stood by my side and waited for Brian to walk around and take hold of my hand and intertwine our fingers. We both stared at the brick building.

So many things had changed in the past month, yet our relationship had only gotten stronger.

Brian moved out of the house he and Javan shared the moment he was released from jail. He had a great attorney who got him out on bail the next morning. Because it was a first offence and he had no record, he received probation, community service, and couples’ counseling for rape victims, which we attended together.

Javan, on the other hand, had a different outcome. Because I had not reported the rape after it happened, there was no evidence. I’d thrown my torn clothes away and showered the moment I got home. With no rape kit, or visible physical damage, the District Attorney couldn’t build a strong enough case to prosecute. It became a matter of my word against his. In the end, Javan got out on bail and the charges were dismissed.  He lost his job as a psychologist, which was a good thing, and moved back to Georgia, his hometown. I could only imagine how many women he’d taken advantage of over the years.

My journey to healing began the moment I started seeing a rape counselor. My doctor had been right. Being able to confide in my counselor, cry, and express my anger allowed me to understand the events of that night were a matter of uncontrollable circumstances and not because of the bad decisions I made. It wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t my fault.

No matter how many times I repeated the mantra; there were times when I didn’t see it that way. Regardless, it was true. My determination to remain financially independent of the man who loved me didn’t cause the rape. Javan’s malicious intentions did.

“Are you ready?” Brian asked.

I squeezed his hand.  “Yes.”

Our weekly sessions with the counselor were exactly what we needed. If it weren’t for these meetings, I would never have known the depth of guilt Brian felt about what happened. He was slowly beginning to forgive himself for not seeing the signs suggesting Javan would become a threat.

One month down. We would continue to take these classes for as long as it took.

I peered up at Brian. The love I felt reflected back at me in his ocean blue eyes.  He raised our linked fingers to his lips, kissing the back of my hand.

Together we walked in, ready to take another step in building our future.

We hope you enjoyed

The Butterfly Memoirs book 1

A Heart Not Easily Broken

Here is an excerpt from book 2

Jaded

Prologue

Dear Diary,

They call me, Slut, ‘ho, easy… and a few other words that I refuse to even write on paper.

Since middle school, people have taken one look at my light skin, grey eyes, and the shape of my body and assumed that’s who I was.

Assume.

The first three letters of the word described them. How dare they judge me? Nobody is perfect.

It has never mattered what I’ve done in my life. Being the daughter of a bi-racial marriage has always haunted me. With my fusion of  graceful features I’d inherited from my white mother, the slender nose, cat-like eyes, vibrant smile, -and the take-no-shit attitude of my black father, people didn’t know how to deal with me.

Guys in school wanted to date me as if I were a trophy. Girls hated the color of my eyes and the texture of my hair.

Things got worse as I got older. Why? Because I love my body and I love sex.

But I
never
used either to earn money or favors from any man. I am a confident, educated woman who goes for what I want, regardless of what anyone around me has to say. If that means I want a good lay every now and then, I’m damn well entitled to it. But one thing I’d never be is a home wrecker.

My philosophy on love and relationships is simple, sex isn’t love, but it’s nice while you’re waiting.

Well, that’s what I used to think before the man I fell in love with trampled all over my heart.

And raped my best friend.

Love will never happen for me. No man will ever understand me. The real me.

Not my parents, not my brother, not even my best friends.

My life, my experiences – both good and bad - are what define the real me.

Yasmine

Chapter 1

“Dad is going to kill you for being late with this week’s report again.”

My younger brother’s words went in one ear and out the other as I typed furiously. “Why don’t you do it then, Brandon?” I spared him a glance.

He sat in the chair opposite of my desk with one leg across his knee, tapping out an impatient rhythm on the bottom of his shoe. When he frowned, he looked just like our father did when he was disappointed.

“It’s not in my job description. As Assistant Manager, my job is to ”

“
Assist the manager, which is me. I’m busy. Therefore, it would be in both of our interest if you performed your job duties and assist me.”
My stare was meant to intimidate.

Brandon, of course, ignored it.

He sighed heavily. “Yasmine, I love you and would do anything for you, but this is ridiculous. If you were working on anything else I would. This,” he waved his hand at the papers scattered across my desk, “has nothing to do with the hotel and everything to do with you. I’m not covering your ass this time.”

I stopped typing and glared at him. “Then if you’re not helping, stop bitching about it and get the hell out of my office.”

Brandon blew out a deep breath. “Yasmine, you have family obligations. Mom and Dad put you in charge of this hotel because of your superior business and customer service skills. You’re supposed to be training me to manage the new location.”

I groaned. Hearing about the third Phillips’ Family Inn was not on the top of my list of things to talk about. I appreciated the family business, especially since we went through so much to open the original location twelve years ago. Since graduating college, I’d been in charge of the daily ins and outs of the second location. I ran the place as if it were my own. However, it was not what I saw myself doing five years from now.

I had my own dream, which didn’t have anything to do with hotel management.

For the past year, arrangements to expand the bed and breakfast chain had been in the works. Opening the third Phillips’ Family Inn was months away.  I applauded their work. In fact, their example inspired me to follow my own dream.

Besides, after all the pain I experienced in the past two months, I deserved to have something to call my own. Lately, it seemed no matter which way I turned, everything dealt with someone else’s wants and needs.

The phone in my office rang. Both of us looked at it. Brandon checked the time on his watch, a smug expression on his handsome face. I loved my brother, but sometimes, I wanted to slap him silly.

“Are you going to answer that?”

I rolled my eyes. “Phillips’ Family Inn, this is…oh, hi, Dad.”

“It’s after three-thirty. You’re late again,” my father said, irritation in his voice.

I winced, ignoring my brother as he mouthed, ‘I told you so’.

“I know. I spent most of my day trying to locate someone to cover Ms. Rose…again.”

Brandon muffled a laugh. I wasn’t lying, only embellishing.

Ms. Rose has been a family friend since before I was born. She’s in her mid-sixties and in no hurry to retire. My father met her thirty years ago when he worked as a bellhop at one of L.A.’s oldest hotels. Ms. Rose worked in housekeeping, which is the same thing she does here. When my parents opened the hotel, they offered her a job as Head of Housekeeping. She did a great job…on the days she came to work.

“What’s the problem this time?” my father sighed.

Oh, where to begin?

“Apparently a pipe burst in her apartment building, flooding the apartment next door. The apartment complex manager advised her to keep an eye on her floors in case it spread to her place.”

“Hmm,” he huffed.

“I called everyone who had the day off, but nobody was available. In the end, Susanne came in even though she’s on vacation. It’s going to cost though.”

“How much?”

“Time and a half pay in addition to her vacation pay. She worked for six hours.”

My father groaned.

Personally, I didn’t understand why Ms. Rose continued in our employ. Whenever I suggested she retire, my parents shot me looks as if I suggested firing grandma. I loved Ms. Rose, but constantly re-writing the schedule because of her absences took up too much of my time and was unfair to the other employees.

“Sorry, Dad, I did the best I could. The only other option involved Brandon carrying a bucket and doing the job himself.” I smiled; he shot me a look that said, ‘yeah right’.

“I need those reports, ASAP. Your mother has an appointment with the accountant in the morning. She needs to review everything before the meeting. If it doesn’t get here soon, she’s going to be upset.”

Oh boy. Dealing with my mom when she was upset is not a pretty sight. I could already imagine her grey-blue eyes staring at me in disappointment if she needed to reschedule.

“Yes, sir. You’ll have them tonight.”

Brandon shook his head when I hung up the phone a few minutes later.

“It will be there.” Ignoring him, I typed up the last few lines of my business plan and hit save. My attention went to the research information on my desk.

The plan was for my business,
Dreams
. For as long as I could remember, I lived for fashion. I stopped dressing up Barbie dolls and began designing outfits for my cousins. The ones I was allowed to play with anyway. I had plenty of cousins. Since members of my mother’s side of the family didn’t approve of her marrying my father because he was black, I rarely spent time with them.

It was a shame. I was nearly twenty-eight-years old and rarely spent time with my mother’s parents because of their prejudiced attitudes. Our skin was considerably lighter than our fathers. We spent more time with my father’s side of the family. They welcomed Brandon and me with open arms. I guess having skin darker than our mothers helped, despite our obvious Caucasian features.