Doin' Me (19 page)

He braced himself on his elbow and turned her chin toward him. “Please forgive me for placing you in this predicament. If I impregnated you, promise me you'll have the baby, even if you don't want it. All you have to do is have it, and I'll take it from there,” he pleaded. “Promise you won't have an abortion, even if you don't want me.”

From his desperate plea, Reyna sensed Tyson had his own demons to contend with. “If it comes to that, of course, I'll have your baby.” For her the request was a no-brainer. Relief washed over his countenance, and she stroked his beard with the back of her hand. “Just so you know, I do want you in my life and not only as my friend, but . . .” She paused to search for the right words.

“But there's still more you need to tell me,” he said, finishing for her.

She nodded. “There is. And I will tell you very soon. I just need to take care of some details first,” she said, thinking she needed to make sure Peyton had left the premises before giving Tyson the grand tour of the depressed remnants of his town house. “There's still that issue of being unequally yoked. I'm not sure if I'm ready to go back to religion and legalism.”

He snuggled closer. “Considering I just finished committing fornication and would probably do it again if I had a condom . . .”

She jarred his side.

“Hey, I'm just being honest.” He chuckled, then sobered. “I may not be the best witness right now, but try to receive what I'm saying. God doesn't desire the religion or legalism you grew up in. What He wants from us is a relationship. God is a loving father who loves us past our faults. Although I'm disappointed in myself, my actions tonight didn't surprise Him. He's not pleased, but He loves me and is waiting to extend grace and mercy. God loves Him some Reyna Mills. There is nothing you can do to make Him stop loving you, because there is nothing you did to make Him start loving you. There isn't a sin He won't forgive you for. You'll run out of sins before He runs out of grace and mercy.”

He lifted her chin. “I believe God has been speaking to your heart already and your resolve is dissolving.”

She buried her face against his chest, refusing to confirm or deny the call.

Kevin's whistle pierced the solace of Tyson's office after his friend shared relevant details of the previous night. As best friends and accountability partners, when they fell, they confided in one another and restored one another.

“I guess this means the two of you worked through your communication issues,” Kevin teased.

“Whatever, man. I feel bad enough. I can do without your jokes.”

“I couldn't help it. You were in such denial, I thought you'd never come around. Less than a week ago, you were still talking that ‘love comes later' marriage foolishness with Mylan. What happened?”

Tyson smirked. “As always, Reyna's drama happened, and I had to be there for her.”

Kevin's eyebrow shifted. “Really? You just had to be the one?”

“Man, you saw how messed up she was the other night at her mother's house, so fragile and helpless.”

Kevin helped himself to Tyson's supply of Reese's. “The purpose of these sessions is for restoration. That can't happen if the party in question isn't truthful. Attorney Stokes, do I need to remind you, you're under oath?”

Tyson threw up his hands. “All right. When she came to my office, I knew then I wasn't over her. Okay, I was relieved when Mylan dumped me. I love Reyna, and I
wanted
to be there for her. I wanted to make love to her. I just didn't mean for it to happen this way.”

Kevin tossed the candy wrapper into the trash and reached for another peanut butter cup. “I assume you confessed your love before you hit the sheets?”

“I'm not like you,” Tyson answered, referring to when Kevin had held Marlissa in limbo.

Kevin shrugged off the jab for the stall tactic it was.

“That's what got me in trouble. She asked me how I felt, and I started singing like a canary,” Tyson revealed. The two laughed. “Man, she had me so messed up, I didn't even think about a condom. It wasn't like I had one lying around, anyway.”

Kevin stopped laughing and whistled again. “Whoa, man. No condom?”

“It gets worse.” Tyson went on to explain how he had begged Reyna not to abort his child if she got pregnant.

Kevin sat contemplatively. “What's next? Does she share your feelings?”

With everything in him, Tyson wanted to answer in the affirmative. He wanted Reyna to love him so much. This morning he convinced himself she did, although she hadn't expressed the sentiment. She had admitted she desired more than friendship.

“I believe she does, but she doesn't trust herself. Plus, she's hiding something from me. This latest episode has depleted her self-esteem and confidence.” He saw that Kevin was staring at him. “I know. Sleeping with her didn't help,” he interjected when Kevin opened his mouth. “In fact, it may have caused more harm than good,” he admitted sadly. “But she needed me. No. I needed her. Actually, we needed each other.”

Kevin stood and extended his hand. “Both of you need the Father's help.”

Tyson bowed his head and joined his friend in intercession.

 

 

More than giggles bubbled out of Reyna as she drove into the subdivision; she was also singing “Baby, it's you.” She couldn't remember the last time a happy tune had flowed from her without the aid of alcohol. She was high, all right, but she'd traded in her old boyfriend vodka for a king-sized order of TFS: Tyson Fitzgerald Stokes. Like the words to Beyoncé's song on the radio, Tyson put her “love on top.”

What she had been longing for was right in her face. If only she'd listened to Tyson that day on the hill, she wouldn't have wasted her energy and resources on a loser like Peyton. She'd long ago acknowledged that she didn't love Peyton, never had, but had craved the attention. She didn't wish Peyton well, just gone.

Reyna parked Tyson's old BMW in the driveway and turned off the engine—glad she had accepted his offer to use it as a loaner until she could purchase a new car. Actually, he had offered to buy her a car, but she had flatly refused. Before leaving for the office, he'd packed her a Philly cheesesteak to go, which she ate for breakfast, then kissed her forehead.

She exited the vehicle. “God, I love that man,” she squealed as the sudden awareness cleared a path to a hidden truth. “Oh, my God, I love him,” she repeated countless times while hugging her body. “I've loved him for a long time.” She bubbled over with joy. “And he loves me,” she sang before skipping to the front door.

She paused before unlocking the front door and looked upward. She hadn't seen Peyton since chasing him and Laci with the poker. “Okay, God and 'em, I'm trying to do the right thing. I'd appreciate it if the dope fiend is gone.”

With caution she entered the town house. Quiet and a musty odor greeted her, but no Peyton. “Thank y'all,” she said, looking upward.

Relief and joy settled over her completely once she walked through every room and found no sign of Peyton or his handful of belongings. His travel bags were gone, and so were Tyson's coffee table and Persian rugs. The remaining artwork and wall coverings were also gone. He did leave a sink full of dirty dishes and an empty refrigerator as souvenirs.

Too happy to dwell on Peyton's antics, she simply sprayed air freshener throughout the house and cracked open some windows. It was Wednesday, the day to start a new chapter in her life. She started by tidying up what remained of the furnishings and making a list of damaged and missing items. She abandoned the notion that she could ever compensate Tyson, even if they settled on a twenty-year plan. Peyton had stolen or damaged over one hundred thousand dollars in merchandise, in addition to punching several holes in the walls.

By noon she was ready for a long hot bubble bath—a luxury she hadn't indulged in since the drinking increased. Afraid she'd fall asleep in the tub and drown while under the influence, she'd opted for showers.

Inside the master bathroom, she ran bathwater and poured in jasmine-scented bubble bath. She noticed the lit message light on the answering machine on the way from the master bathroom to the laundry hamper. She stopped and pressed the play button, hoping to hear Tyson's voice. Neither of the two messages were from him, but they gave her more reasons to celebrate.

“Reyna, it's me, your mother. Just calling to see how the night went. If you need me, call me.”

Reyna had called Jewel on the way from shopping with Tyson to say he would take her home after dinner. She'd lied, because that's what Tyson offered, but she hadn't planned to spend the night in Tyson's arms. When she'd made the call, she had every intention of having Tyson take her back to Jewel's, and then having Jewel take her home—anything to keep Peyton and Tyson from crossing paths.

She deleted the message and waited for the next message.

“Hello, Reyna. This is Paige. I hope you're feeling better. I've been praying for you. The entire office has. I have decided not to terminate you on one condition.” There was a pause. “I want you to enroll in an alcohol treatment program. Once you provide proof of enrollment, I'll allow you time off to attend classes, meetings, and counseling sessions. See you on Monday. Take care.”

Reyna fell back onto the bed, kicking and screaming, “Thank you! God and 'em, y'all is all right with me today!”

Instead of deleting the message, she saved it to play back later for Tyson.

The bubble bath wasn't nearly as soothing as in times past. Too many thoughts of Tyson and how he'd bared his soul and made love to her disturbed the aromatherapy's calming effects. She wanted him in the tub with her for a repeat performance. After ten minutes, she rinsed off and put an end to her frustration.

For the first time in weeks, Reyna admired the image in the mirror. She was beautiful—half-processed hair and all. Reyna danced in the mirror as Beyoncé's beat filled her. “Baby, it's you,” she sang while moisturizing her skin with jasmine body butter. She continued singing after slipping into her bathrobe and collecting more clothes for the laundry. When she checked the jean skirt pockets, the singing stopped, along with her heart. Inside the left pocket was a ten-thousand-dollar check from Tyson.

Sudden dread and shame engulfed and crippled her spirit as the revelation that she'd been used once again sucked the life from her. Although generous, Tyson had never given her money, and according to her reasoning, the only reason for him to secretly stuff money into her pocket now was to pay for services rendered—like Chase had. She didn't have the strength to stop the tears from falling, but she did, however, have more than enough anger and pride left to curse Tyson out. She stomped over and placed the check on the nightstand and then picked up the cordless phone with the intention of doing just that.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted when he answered his personal cell phone. “I was just thinking about you. I hope your day is going well.”

She stalled; most of her bravado evaporated as his concern reached through the phone line and soothed her aching heart.

“Reyna, are you there?”

“No matter what you think, I'm not some trick,” she blurted. “You can keep your money and your car.”

“Whoa! Hold on. Where is this coming from?”

“I found your little check. You could have at least left it on the nightstand, instead of hiding how little you think of me in my pocket. I guess I wasn't so perfect for you, after all.” She stopped before the depth of her pain poured out.

She heard heavy breathing on the other end and envisioned his face inflamed with a red hue and charcoal specks dancing in his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice calm, “last night you said you were broke and had lost everything. The check isn't for services rendered. It's to help you get back on your feet. I tucked it into your pocket because you're too prideful to accept it outright. I care about you too much to let you struggle when I have the resources to help, but if accepting money from me offends you that much, tear up the check.”

“Ouch,” she mouthed.

“And for the record, sweetheart, there isn't a price tag big enough for what we shared last night.”

Happy tears returned as she silently scolded herself for grouping him with a lying adulterer.

“Sorry for jumping to conclusions,” she squealed into the phone. “I like that.”

“You like what? The check?” He sounded confused.

“Hearing you call me sweetheart,” she explained. “It sounds nice coming from you.”

“Woman, you're an enigma I'll never figure out,” he said after a moment.

Reyna sat on the bed. “But you love me, right?”

“Yes, I do. And this is one of those death sentence moments.”

She laughed. “Thank you. You are so good to me.”

“Not as good as I'd like to be.”

She heard shuffling in the background.

“Sweetheart, I have to go. I'm scheduled for court in thirty minutes. Talk to you later.”

“Wait,” she yelled into the phone. “Can you come by this evening? We need to talk.”
It can't get any worse. Might as well get it all out now,
she thought.

“Are we going to have the discussion we need to have, or are you going to put up another smoke screen?”

“I promise to put all the cards on the table. You should eat before you get here. More than likely you'll be angry and lose your appetite once I you hear what I have to say,” she said nervously.

“Sweetheart, as long as we're honest with one another, we can work through anything.”

She sat motionless, pondering those words long after ending the call, until she heard a noise from the hallway. Before she could stand, Peyton appeared at the threshold, holding her purse.