AFRICAN AMERICAN URBAN FICTION: BWWM ROMANCE: Billionaire Baby Daddy (Billionaire Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance) (Multicultural & Interracial Romance Short Stories) (174 page)

Billionaire Baby
Daddy Continued…

Chapter 3

              The next morning, I still wasn’t sure how I felt about things, but it seemed decided that we were still together. After the blow-up last night we had sex and spent the night asleep in each other’s arms.

              That was the routine these days. We each went about our days, fought, and had mind-changing makeup sex. I was less and less certain that this was the life I had wanted.

              I woke up before Christopher and gathered my photography supplies. I didn’t have any sessions booked today, I just needed a break. I wandered around the city, getting a few shots. I took the subway to my old neighborhood for lunch.

              The area was run down and people loitered wherever there was a free stretch of wall, with cigarettes or brown bags concealing malt beverages. A few children, who clearly needed a bath, a brush, and to be in school, were out playing. This was home.

              I stopped in at a small, nameless restaurant that looked like just a random door in the wall except for a small sign that stuck out above it. The letters had peeled off over the years, but any real local knew it was the spot Ms. Mae owned. She had been there for forty years when I was a kid. She may not have even owned it anymore, but it was still there and open.

              I peeked in and saw a few people eating fried chicken, fried okra, and other soul food. It was one of the few places in this part of New York that still felt like sitting in someone’s kitchen and having good, home-cooked meals.

              “Be right with you. Grab a seat,” a male voice called from the kitchen.

              I sat down and pulled out my sketch pad. I looked through the photos I had taken this morning and felt uninspired. My thoughts were affecting the perspective in my work. I reached in my bag again for a small pack of pencils. I began sketching the interior of the restaurant from the corner where I sat. I included the door, and the bench and long table sitting nearest it. When I got to people in the picture I made them faceless outlines, I guess because I felt like one, less a person and more an empty shell or form going through the motions.

              I didn’t realize someone had been standing over me.

              “That’s interesting. I think at least some of those people should be smiling, though,” said the male voice I had previously heard from a distance, now immediately in front of my table.

              “That wouldn’t be real,” I replied.

              “Why is that?” the man asked, taking a seat across from me.

              “That isn’t how my artist’s eye sees it,” I said simply.

              “Fair enough. My artist’s eye sees you enjoying something off menu. I’ll be back,” the guy said.

              I turned the page and wasn’t sure what to do on paper or in my life. I couldn’t stop thinking about fighting with Christopher again. At this point I didn’t remember as much what it started from or how it escalated to the point it did. Then again, I also couldn’t remember why I let it end the way it did. When we argued, I always wished we could just kiss, say I love you, and make the problem go away. To some extent that was what happened last night, but I didn’t feel like anything had gone away. I felt like we only put a pin in it until next time.

              Without realizing it, as I was thinking, I had sketched an extreme close up of eyes. No one but me could tell, but they were Christopher’s eyes. They stared at me from the page. I stared back, but I wasn’t sure what I was seeing.

              “Someone is in love,” the guy from before said, returning to my table with a plate.

              “What?” I asked.

              “The eyes you drew. They look like a sad man in love,” he said.

              “What makes you say that? Sad and in love?” I asked.

              “Just the way they look. I can tell they aren’t your eyes. Yours are beautiful, large, round, and also sad, but with long lashes and different eyebrows. These look like a man. The brows are thick and the eye doesn’t look enhanced with makeup like shading or something special done to the eyebrows,” he said.

              “But in love and sad?” I asked again.

              “I don’t know, maybe it is just because they are facing you,” he said.

              He grabbed my sketch pad and looked at the eyes again.

              “Yep, now that they are facing me they look a little angry,” he chuckled.

              I laughed a little too. It was his attempt at humor, I guess.

              “They must not like you,” I replied, taking back the pad.

              “Well, sure. Any man would be happier if his eyes were on you,” he said, clearly flirting now. “I’m Dane.”

              “Hello, Dane. I’m Alicia,” I said.

              “So, you must be new here. I haven’t seen you around. This is my restaurant, Mae’s, named for the founder, my aunt. Welcome to town,”

              “Not new, just visiting after not being here a while, but thanks all the same. It’s interesting to be back,” I said.

              Thinking on it, I didn’t really have anywhere I wanted to go now that I was here. The only family I still had in the area was my brother. I didn’t really want to see him anyway. The friends I had here were really more like acquaintances who shared the bond of not succumbing to the drug and thug life that surrounded us. Hopefully they had made it out, too.

              “So, you must be in town visiting family, then,” Dane said continuing his attempt at making conversation with the only person under forty in the room.

              “I may. Really I just needed a break from life, so I thought getting back to where I came from might remind me how good I have it now. So far, I just feel reminded that I’m alone,” I said, turning to a new page.

              Dane reached out and took my sketch pad before I could start anything else.

              “Eat. My food will take your mind off everything until the last bite. Then you will just think about how much you wish there was more,” he said cockily.

Chapter 4

              I finished the food and left a twenty-dollar bill to cover the meal and a tip. Then I gathered my things and left. As I started to walk away from the door, I heard it open and close again quickly.

              “I don’t get a goodbye?” I heard Dane’s voice as footsteps came to a stop behind me.

              I turned. He had followed me out of the restaurant holding my money in his hand.

              “Sorry, that was delicious. Goodbye,” I said.

              He caught my arm.

              “Look, I own this place, it does poorly, but well enough that I survive and have a few people on staff. Another cook and a dinner waitress just arrived. They can handle the handful of customers we might get. I told them I was taking the rest of the afternoon off,” he said.

              “Okay,” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

              “Here is your money back. Lunch was to cheer you up. Can I keep you company for a little while? My plans for the afternoon just changed.”

              I gave him a look. He seemed nice. A product of my environment who was trying to do okay for himself. His pants didn’t sag, and so far he had used complete sentences and not called me “boo” or “shawty.”

              “Alright. I’m just taking a few pictures. I haven’t felt inspired lately, so I thought some reminders of where I come from could help me remember what makes where I am so important,” I said.

              “I understand. I’m grateful each day to just have come this far. Aunt Mae wasn’t really my aunt. My mother was strung out on drugs. Mae used to see us sometimes in the evening on the streets after she’d closed up, and she would always give me something to eat. When my mother died and she saw me still on the street alone, she realized I was homeless. She let me live with her and earn my keep at her restaurant. When she passed, she left it to me,” he explained.

              “I didn’t know her well, but there was always a dash of love in her food. I guess she must have really loved people,” I said, unsure how to respond to his volunteered background information.

              “She did. She always said, ‘you can always warm someone’s heart by warming their belly,’” he said in an old lady voice.

              We both laughed.

              “What is your story?” he asked.

              “I grew up here. My dad was on the police force, killed on duty. My brother filled the role of bread winner by selling drugs, which he began using. My mom buried herself in church. Now she is buried in the local cemetery. I haven’t talked to my brother in a couple of years, so I don’t really know for sure where he is.”

              He nodded, and we walked in silence for half a block. I took a few pictures along the way. He didn’t seem to mind.

              I wasn’t really sure who had been leading our walk, but as it continued it started to get dark.

              “Here, let’s go in here and I’ll buy us some dinner. You look like you could use a drink, too,” he said.

              He opened the door to another hole-in-the-wall restaurant. This one was a little less run down than his and had a few more guests. Someone behind the bar waved at him. He waved back and held up two fingers. I guessed he was a regular.

              We sat down and soon two burgers and fries and two beers were at our table. As far as alcohol goes, I wasn’t much of a beer drinker, but I didn’t say anything. I could be for one day.

              We ended up drinking and talking at this place until they closed. As we stepped back out into the cold night air, I stumbled slightly. He caught me and put his arms around me.

              “Whoa, whoa, pretty lady. I’ve got you,” he said.

              I guess my reaction time was slow from drinking, because before I could think well enough to say no, he’d kissed me. He pulled away and smiled.

              “That was nice, but I have a boyfriend,” I said, somewhat slurred.

              “Oh, sorry. You were here alone. We spent the afternoon together. I guess I had the wrong impression,” Dane said.

              “No, no,” I said stumbling again. “It is my fault. He and I fought last night, and you were good looking and nice to me today.”

              I was drunk and rambling.

              “I’m sorry,” he said again.

              Then he kissed me once more. I kissed him back. We kissed into a cab and to his apartment.

Chapter 5

              The next morning I woke up to a headache and a note with aspirin and water on the table beside me. Turns out Dane’s apartment was above Mae’s. He wanted me to come down and have breakfast when I was ready. I just wanted to come down and find out this was all a dream.

              While I dressed, I rehearsed in my head the best way to tell him that the night had been a mistake. I wasn’t as concerned about his reaction as I was Christopher’s.

              “Hi, Dane,” I said, walking straight to the counter this time.

              “Hey,” he said, leaning forward to kiss me.

              I placed a finger to his lips as he leaned in, and he immediately leaned back.

              “I am sorry about last night,” I said.

              “No, it was my fault. You were drunk. You said you had a boyfriend. I shouldn’t have kissed you the second time since I knew that,” he said, stepping back and leaning against a table.

              “Well, drunk or not, I shouldn’t have let any kissing or anything else happen,” I said. “I love my boyfriend. I was just troubled from this fight we had. I guess now I see a fight is just a fight. Although, I don’t know what to say about last night.”

              “Well, if things ever change, I’m around,” he said with a sort of disappointed smile.

              I gave him a weak nod and smile in return. Then I started making my way back uptown to Christopher’s.

              In the cab on the ride over I mentally rehearsed my explanation and apology, but I didn’t see any scenario where this ended well. All I could see at the end each time was him yelling, me crying, and one of us leaving. Most likely me being kicked out, since the lease was in our name, but he paid for everything.

              As the cab pulled up, before I could even get all my things and out of the car, the door opened.

              “One moment, sir” I said without looking.

              The person waiting grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the car. Again, I was being kissed unexpectedly, but this time I knew the lips. They knew me. Christopher had been watching for me to return and his salty kisses showed every bit how much he loved and missed me.

              “Chris we have to talk; I have to tell you something,” I said, shaking my head and pushing him back.

              “No, no more talking. I love you. You left, but you came back. I don’t want to talk anymore. I just want us to be together. Tell me you love me and that everything is behind us, and we are going to move forward with our life. No more talk about your problems, my problems, or any of that garbage. Just
our
life,
our
problems, and our love holding it all together,” he said, gripping me tighter and closer to him.

              He held me tightly, hugging and rocking.

              “I love you, too, Chris,” I said. “I would like nothing more than to just have our life with our problems. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

              “Don’t be sorry. Be my wife,” he said.

              “What?” I asked, crying in shock of the greeting and now his new question.

              “Marry me,” he said, kneeling,

              The entire time I had not noticed the small box in his hands. While he was on one knee he opened it, producing a large diamond surrounded by smaller stones that made a heart shape around the one in the middle.

              “Christopher,” I breathed.

              “Say yes,” he demanded.

              “Chris,” I came to my knees with him.

              The cab driver got out of his car and came around to see what was happening. He smiled once he saw us and the ring between us.

              I cried, and Chris took my hands in his, then lifted my chin gently to look at him.

              “You’re my girl. I love you and I know you love me. I don’t know where you were yesterday or last night. That made me realize I couldn’t wait anymore to ask you to be by my side, forever and always,” he said gently.

              I touched his face and cried more, but softly.

              “Be my wife,” he urged once again.

              I couldn’t speak. I nodded and kissed him. He kissed me back as we stood, and he scooped me into his arms. He carried me into our building and straight to a bed covered in rose petals. He made love to me again, and I knew all I wanted was to be the woman at his side.

              I also knew his feelings might change if he knew about the mistake I had made.