Comfort of a Man (Arabesque) (8 page)

B
rooklyn’s head tossed in abandonment among her soft pillows, mistaking them for soft clouds of ecstasy when the alarm blared. Her hand flailed out and smashed the clock’s off button. The memory of her true location seeped into her consciousness and an ache of disappointment filled her. She’d dreamed of being entangled in Isaiah’s strong embrace again last night.

Last night, he’d worn a handsome, cream-colored ensemble that reeked of sophistication, class, and style. It had been the second time in a week she’d ran into him and the second time her body had committed mutiny against reason.

Sighing, she struggled to forget the way his eyes
had softened as they focused on her, and how his voice caressed her skin like the smoothest of silks. The man had the strangest effect on her—to the point where she questioned her logic for pushing him away.

Then she remembered: she couldn’t handle another heartbreak or another life-altering disappointment.

The phone rang. Groggily, she sat up and answered. “Hello.”

“What’s this about you not letting my son visit me this summer?” Evan demanded. “Does this have anything to do with that new boyfriend you’ve got stashed over there?”

Tuesday looked to be an echo of Monday, she thought as she peeled back the covers on her bed. “I see
your
son called you this morning.”

“Damn it, Brooke. I’m not going to just sit by and let you ruin this summer for us.”

“Don’t threaten me. According to you and your team of attorneys you can’t
afford
to have him with you this summer, or did you forget about your sudden bankruptcy?” At his long punctuated silence that trailed her question, she stood from her bed and shook her head.

“Evan, I’m not trying to be the enemy. I just want to be able to pay the bills around here. I’m tired of fighting—with you, with Macy, and even with Jaleel.”

The silence over the phone stretched with unbearable tension before Evan’s exhalation filled the line. “I’ll bring you a check when I pick Jaleel up on Friday,” he said.

Brooklyn leaned against the frame of the adjoining bathroom as a small level of triumph and relief rushed through her. “Thank you.”

In the Gwinnett Hospital cafeteria, Yasmine couldn’t stop laughing when Isaiah relayed the details of his business dinner with Macy Patterson and her fiancé. In fact, her hilarious reaction allowed him the ability to find the humor in what had happened—however small.

“You have to be pulling my leg,” she said, wiping the corners of her eyes. “You must be making this stuff up.”

“Truth is stranger than fiction.”

“Apparently.” She chuckled again, yet one glance at his fading smile and she struggled to become serious. “I’m sorry. It isn’t funny.”

He rolled his eyes and attempted to smile again, but the end result resembled a lopsided grin. “No. It’s funny in a sad sort of way,” he confessed, and then shrugged. “It’s just…”

She studied him. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

He thought about it for a long moment and then hesitated to answer.

“Come on. You can tell me,” she goaded. She slid her hands across the table and settled them atop his.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he nodded in reflection. “I’m intrigued with everything about her.”

A broader smile bloomed across Yasmine’s face.

Isaiah caught the twinkle in her eyes and groaned. “Don’t give me that look,” he said, easing down in his chair.

“What look? This is great news. It’s the best news. We have to find this woman and tell her how you feel.”

He held up a slender finger. “Problem: she’s not interested in me.”

She coiled back with a frown. “You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I?” he countered. “Let’s look at the facts. Six months ago, she disappeared without a trace after the most incredible night of my life. Four days ago she rams into my car and then treated me as though I was the last person on earth she wanted to see. Then last night, she damn near ran me over trying to get away. None of these things leads me to believe she’s interested in pursuing a relationship.”

“Hmmph. Sounds to me like she doesn’t know how to drive.”

He laughed despite his deepening mood. “I have more important things to worry about than someone who…”

Yasmine watched him as she waited for him to finish his sentence. When it was apparent that he wouldn’t, she attacked with a different angle of persuasion. “I’ve never known you to give up,” she said in manufactured awe. “Especially when you want something.”

The blunt challenge struck the bull’s-eye of Isaiah’s pride as his head bobbed in agreement. He wanted
Brooklyn Douglas; there were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. But how he’d go about getting her, he hadn’t a clue. “All right,” he said. His mind scrambled for an idea. “I’m going to go for it.”

Yasmine patted his hand and gave him a superior nod. “Good boy.”

Wednesday morning, Brooklyn arrived at Conner’s Realty, shocked to find her desk covered with long-stemmed roses. The other women in the office cast curious glances spiked with friendly jealousy. When she plucked the accompanying card from a plastic stem, it was hard for her to hide her shock.

She reread the card several times and then stared at the large crystal vases monopolizing her desk while a smile crept across her features. “Yes, it does.”

On Thursday, a golden gift box with an elaborate red velvet bow sat in the middle of her desk. No one in the office saw who’d delivered it. With great trepidation, she unwrapped the box. She smiled when she withdrew a beautiful snow globe. She shook the small orb and watched the artificial snow swirl around a miniature image of New York. Also inside the box was Isaiah’s
business card and on the back was the instruction for her to call his cell phone.

She was tempted.

Later that day, Isaiah took his mother home. It was a great relief to see her back where she belonged. And she wasted no time trying to clean, cook, and dig in her garden, but at every turn, Isaiah was there insisting that she rest. So he was left to cook, clean and, heaven help him, dig in the garden.

Hordes of Georgia’s friends came by to check up on her. A few of them dropped hints for Isaiah to meet either their daughters or granddaughters. He told them all that he wished he had the time. But any mention of him returning to Texas was accompanied by his mother’s frown.

While running errands, he kept his cell phone nearby. When the last guest finally left, he rested a few minutes from the swirl of activity. “You have a lot of friends.”

“A person can never have too many,” she said, patting his hand.

Out of habit, he retrieved his cell phone from his hip and checked for messages.

“Don’t tell me you’re already eager to go back to work,” she said, watching him.

He smiled and shook his head. “Believe it or not I haven’t thought about work for a few days.”

Disbelief covered her face as she waved off his
comment. “That’s like saying Dr. King never had a dream.”

Isaiah laughed and eased closer to her on the sofa. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Georgia smiled. “You rest now. You’ve been ripping and roaring all day. I’m getting tired just watching you.”

“Thanks. You’re a good mom.” He eased back into the chair, and then cocked his head onto her shoulder.

She chuckled and he enjoyed the melodious sound.

“Did she call today?” she asked.

His spirits dipped, but his resolve kicked in. “Not yet.”

She laughed and continued to pat his hand. “Don’t worry. She will.”

He chuckled at her misplaced confidence. “How do you know?”

“Because she’d have to be crazy not to.”

Jaleel lay across his bed and tossed a baseball into the air with one hand and then caught it in his gloved one. He’d often performed this routine when he needed to think or when he wanted to mentally separate from his parents. Today, he wanted and needed to do both. He was tired of being ignored and used by his parents, whether they meant to do it or not.
Why couldn’t things go back to the way they used to be?

He was also tired of being angry—with his parents, with Macy, and most of all with himself. Sneaking
Theresa over after curfew had been a mistake. He wished he could talk with her, but since that night, her parents had grounded her from seeing him or even talking on the phone. The pain and embarrassment he’d caused his mother was unforgivable. The worst part was he had no explanation for why he couldn’t apologize. Instead he’d antagonized her and undoubtedly made her cry.

Jaleel stopped tossing the ball as he felt his own tears surface and slide to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just somehow always did.

This morning his mother wanted to discuss what had happened between him and Theresa and he had had the embarrassing chore of telling his mother he was no virgin. However, it was his first time attempting to have sex in their house. His honesty was rewarded with a flash of disappointment and disapproval. Then the discussion turned toward protection.

When he revealed his father had bought him a few boxes of condoms that he kept in his top drawer, he thought he’d win brownie points for having the foresight of discussing the matter with his dad, but instead his confiding with his dad hurt her. He would never learn the rules of divorce.

Frustration erupted in him. How much longer did he have to wait for both of them to come to their senses and get back together?

“No matter,” Jaleel whispered, and then willed his
tears to disappear. This summer he had a plan and, if things went the way he hoped, they would once again be one big happy family.

R
ain accompanied the dawn of Friday morning to the great relief of Atlanta citizens and their dehydrated lawns. But this was no ordinary shower; the blinding sheets of rain held every potential of becoming a hazardous flood—a good enough excuse for Brooklyn to try and work from home.

Jaleel had surprised her by bolting out of bed at 6:00 a.m. instead of sticking to his customary noon hibernation. She woke up and fixed him a hearty breakfast, undoubtedly the last one he’d get for the summer, seeing how it was no secret that Macy couldn’t cook.

By seven, Jaleel had dragged a large duffel bag into the living room and looked as though he was shipping out for war.

Brooklyn pretended her son’s eagerness didn’t bother her and even tried to convince herself she was looking forward to the summer break. In truth, she didn’t want him to go.

Jaleel walked into the kitchen and stared in awe at the feast before him. “Are you expecting an army?” he asked. A smile split his lips.

Then she truly noticed the mountain of biscuits, pancakes, sausages and eggs she’d prepared. There were bowls of grits, oatmeal and gravy—and she’d also fried a pack of bacon.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I might have gone a little overboard.”

“Yeah. Just a little.” He laughed and sat down at the table.

Brooklyn poured herself a cup of coffee and joined him. “So, I guess you’re excited?”

“I suppose so.” He shrugged, careful not to meet her stare as he piled food onto his plate.

An awkward tension cloaked mother and son while one tried not to ask too much and the other avoided straight answers.

“I want you to promise to call if you need me to come get you for any reason,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, more on autopilot than anything else.

Brooklyn couldn’t explain the wave of sadness and guilt or her undeniable fear of spending the summer alone. Trying to keep the conversation on safe ground,
she thought it best to run down the items he needed. “Did you pack enough underwear?”

She laughed at the incredulous look he gave her. “Sorry. It’s hard turning the mother thing on and off,” she offered as an excuse.

He smiled and made her day.

An hour later, as she placed the dishes in the dishwasher, the doorbell rang.

Jaleel bounded down the stairs.

Brooklyn’s heart sank. She dried her hands and went to join her son just as he opened the door.

“What are you doing with a tux?” she asked, pointing to the suit draped over his shoulder.

Evan walked through the door.

Jaleel shrugged, but a smile quirked his lips. “Dad rented it for their engagement party.”

Brooklyn turned hard eyes toward Evan. “What engagement party?”

Yasmine popped up at Isaiah’s mother’s home some time after lunch and was bursting at the seams with news. “I finally met with Ms. Macy Patterson today for lunch,” she announced, and then stopped in her tracks when she noticed Isaiah was wearing an apron.

“Don’t say a word,” he warned, and then waved for her to follow him into the kitchen.

“Never a camera around when you need one,” she muttered, with suppressed laughter.

Once in the kitchen, he resumed slicing and dicing onions on a cutting board.

“I never knew you were handy in the kitchen.” She grabbed a mitten and peeked inside the oven.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He chuckled, turning away from the counter to stir the sauce on the stove. “Tell me about your meeting.”

Yasmine laughed and closed the oven. “Businesswise it was a boon. Her company is practically salivating over the prospect of working with Rotech.”

“That is good news.” He nodded though it wasn’t the information he wanted to discuss. He glanced at his best friend and waited with strained patience for her to continue.

Instead, Yasmine took her time helping him stir the sauces and sniff everything she came across.

“Well?” he finally asked.

“Well, what?”

“You two didn’t talk about anything else?” he probed.

“Oh.” Yasmine smiled slyly. “She did say something about her total embarrassment over what had happened the other night at dinner.”

Isaiah waited—and waited—then asked, “Is that it?”

Yasmine laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Quite the eager beaver, aren’t you, Romeo?”

“Why don’t you stop playing around and just tell me what I want to know.”

“At first it was kind of difficult getting information out of her, but after a couple of drinks, she loosened right up.” She eased onto a stool next to the counter.

“And?”

“And, she was once your Juliet’s best friend—that is until Macy stole her husband.”

“She said that?”

“Not in so many words—but yeah. Frankly, I think these people need an all-expense-paid trip to
The Jerry Springer Show.
”

“That bad?”

Yasmine cocked her head as her eyes rolled upward. “You know, now that I think about it, you two have a few things in common. Her husband left her for her best friend and your girlfriend left you for your uncle. This would be like two rejects finding eternal bliss.”

Isaiah’s jaw dropped as surprise colored his eyes. “Rejects?”

She shrugged, and then laughed. “I just call it like I see it.”

“Sticks and stones.” Isaiah scraped the diced onions into the saucepan. As he talked, his grin slouched to one side. “What else did she say?”

“That she wasn’t looking forward to playing baby-sitter to her fiancé’s son all summer. According to her, she’s not the motherly type. And after listening to her for the better part of the afternoon, I have no trouble believing that.”

Isaiah tuned her out. “Son?” he repeated, unable to explain his flicker of surprise.

“Yep, so if this works out, you’re looking at a pre-packaged family,” Yasmine informed him somberly.

Isaiah laughed. “Well, the way things are going, I don’t think that’s a real possibility. She hasn’t called yet.”

“Then call her.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m bordering on harassment as it is.”

“What? We’ve only sent flowers and a snow globe. What’s a phone call—at least one, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m starting to feel like I’m begging.”

“You are begging.” She met his stare with a serious expression.

“I never beg,” he answered in equal measure.

Yasmine shrugged. “If you say so.”

Friday night, Brooklyn had invited Toni over under the guise of a girls’ night out. In secret, she held every intention of hosting her own pity party. When Toni entered the house and followed her to the kitchen, Brooklyn told her the news.

“What do you mean ‘engaged’?” Toni questioned in the same deadpan voice that Brooklyn had used earlier with Evan.

Brooklyn could only manage a casual shrug of her
shoulders. “That’s what he said.” She popped open a bottle of wine. “Drink?”

Shock lingered in Toni’s expression. “Is that the strongest thing you have?”

“Unfortunately.” She turned and opened a cabinet for the wineglasses. “Was that a yes or a no?” she asked before pouring.

“It’s a yes.” Toni plopped her purse down on the breakfast bar, and then eased onto a stool. “Engaged?”

Brooklyn nodded and filled the glasses to the rim before handing one to her friend. “The way I see it, the two snakes deserve each other.”

Toni eyed her. “Have you been in that robe all day?”

“Didn’t see a need to get dressed,” Brooklyn answered with another shrug. “My life is going to hell in a handbasket anyway.” She took a deep gulp.

Toni’s glass halted midway to her lips as she studied Brooklyn again. “You’re not still in love with him, are you?”

Brooklyn choked, but managed to get the wine down her throat; however, her eyes glossed and a severe cough plagued her for a few minutes afterward.

Toni’s delicate brows rose with heightening interest. “Are you all right?”

“I’m f-fine.” Brooklyn wasted no time pouring herself another glass.

“Good. I’m still waiting for an answer to my question.”

Setting the bottle down, she placed both hands against the counter, imprisoned Toni’s gaze, and leaned forward. “Let me be clear. I am absolutely, positively over Evan.”

It was Toni’s turn to shrug. “Then it’s no big deal that he’s getting married.”

“Of course it’s a big deal. He’s getting married before I am—and to her!”

Toni leaned back. “I see.”

“He doesn’t deserve to find happiness first.” Brooklyn’s body deflated. She grabbed her wineglass and the bottle and shuffled out of the kitchen.

Toni stood and followed her to the living room. She stopped at the sight of so many flickering candles. “It looks like a shrine in here.”

Brooklyn ignored the comment and dropped onto the sofa. “Life isn’t fair.”

“Whoever said that it was?” Toni asked, joining her. She gingerly eased out of her pumps, sighed with relief, and then turned her attention back to her depressed friend. “You’re right. The two snakes deserve each other and whatever misery they bestow on one another.”

The alcohol worked its magic and numbed Brooklyn’s throbbing temples as well as the stabbing ache in her chest. “You’re completely missing my point.”

“What
is
your point?”

She worked her mouth, but her brain seemingly forgot the English language.

“Yeess?” Toni took her first sip.

Brooklyn’s body deflated again. “I don’t know. I just feel this huge injustice. He has the great career, all our money, Jaleel’s undying love and adoration, my best friend—”

Toni cleared her throat.

“My ex-best friend.”

“Thank you.”

A corner of Brooklyn’s lips flickered upward, and then disappeared. “And now, he’s racing down the aisle of happily-ever-after or at least happy until someone with a firmer ass comes along.”

Toni popped her on the arm. “Stop it. There is absolutely nothing wrong with your ass.”

A bark of laughter reverberated throughout Brooklyn’s body and she knew that she’d done the right thing by inviting Toni over.

“Look,” Toni said, settling back against the fluffy pillows. “If anything, this should tell you that it’s time to start searching for someone for yourself as well. The past is the past and there’s nothing you can do to change any of it. But at least you’ve learned some valuable lessons.”

Brooklyn acquiesced with a slow nod of her head.

“I say you call that hunk from New York and start your own torrid affair, relationship, whatever. All work and no play make Brooklyn a lonely woman.”

Cocking a brow in the middle of her friend’s moti
vational speech, Brooklyn turned toward Toni. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean, great sermon, but I don’t see you exactly practicing what you preach, reverend. When was the last time you were out on a date?”

“What difference does that make? We’re talking about you.”

“You’re being a hypocrite.”

“I haven’t transformed my living room to look like some holy sanctuary while pouring my sorrows into a bottle of wine.”

Brooklyn swiveled her head and rolled her eyes heavenward. “Whatever.”

Toni laughed as she leaned forward to set her glass down on the coffee table. “All right, if you must know, I went out with Brian Olson last night.”

Curiosity tickled Brooklyn’s brain as she glanced back at her friend.

Toni waved off her inquisitive stare and began providing answers before the questions were hurled. “He works with me at the firm. Brilliant attorney, lousy in bed.”

“You slept with him?” Brooklyn turned toward her, wrapped in her friend’s story.

A sly smile dominated Toni’s features. “Now who’s trying to be a hypocrite?”

Flustered, Brooklyn again didn’t know what to say,
but at Toni’s laugh, she smiled again. “Well, at least mine wasn’t lousy in bed,” she said, sticking her tongue out.

“Which brings us back to my point.” Toni reclaimed her glass. “Call Isaiah.”