Love Redeemed, Book 4 (35 page)

No! Why?
“Twenty eight thousand,” I murmur sheepishly.

“That’s some bread for a kid. What did he do for a living?”

The first tear slips. I feel shame like never before. I’m embarrassed by my former life.
But I didn’t know any better.
I was young and that was my environment. I knew nothing else.

“Sold crack,” my voice tremble
s.

Azmir d
oesn’t speak. He withdraws from me. Again. How can I blame him? I’ve just dropped another bomb about my less than stellar past. I feel classless. Grimy. No better than the monster O was when he slang his powder to my mother behind my back. However, no amount of abasement can make me forget the promising world I’ve created. I took charge and changed my environment, my course. My life. For Christ’s sake, I just got married. I’m no longer that misguided teen who was scared and abandoned.
I’m strong and formidable
.

“Azmir, say something,” I beg
, barely able to speak.

“What do you want me to say?” his voice
is calm. I feel no emotion in it, and that concerns me.

I pivot in my seat towards him
. “Tell me how you feel having learned something like this about your wife? What is this new piece of information going to do to us?”

He d
oesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. His eyes don’t roam. Typical A.D. equanimity at play. It’s long minutes before he murmurs, “It’s not news, Rayna.”

“
W
-what?” In all honesty, I gave up on hearing back from him so I don’t trust my ears. “I didn’t hear that.”

He turn
s to me. His eyes fill with something even in the darkness of the truck, only extraneous lights glaring into his face. “The murder, O, J-Boog…not news to me.”

I d
on’t understand. I’m thrown.
He knows about my past?
How could this be possible?

“How is that possible? I’ve never shared this with anyone, but Michelle,” I ask, feeling like the carpet
is being pulled from underneath me.

We pull int
o the marina and Azmir still hasn’t answered me.

Manny receive
s us in the side lobby and I quickly wish he were a less jovial Roberto. Manny’s extremely loquacious and dotes heavily on Azmir. He always has questions, forcing your attention elsewhere. Tonight, he’s no different. He greets gleefully and chews on the weather, latest game scores, and his usual inquiries about Azmir’s businesses. I manage a polite smile, Azmir a tad more, though it’s clear he isn’t in chatty mood.

When we mak
e it up to the apartment, Azna comes running to me. I drop to my knees to greet him. Azmir heads straight into his office with purposeful strides. I rise to my feet, prepared to continue with my query. But before I make it to his door, he comes back out with a file and drops it in my hands. I look up to read his expression, but he gives nothing away. Without thinking, I open the folder.

Within seconds, my back hit
s the wall as I cover my mouth.

“Where did you get this from?” I probe on a shaky breath.

“I have a team of investigators. A man in my line of work—”

“WHERE DID YOU GET THIS FROM?” I scream, anger bursting in my belly.

“I have a team of investigators, Rayna. You know this,” his voice is even, but I know he’s brewing himself.

I don’t care; he’s
breached my privacy. I go back to the file and note pictures of Akeem and O—mug shots specifically. Police reports and news articles of the arrests, the little girl’s funeral images, and statements dated that July night long ago.

“
Is this even legal?” I yell. “Because it sure as hell isn’t moral. Azmir, you have no right to this information. None of it concerns you.”

“
You concern me!” he roars. “And since you’ve mentioned morality, where does that put you on the curve when you can’t even tell me outright about this ordeal from your past?”

“
How am I supposed to tell you something horrific, huhn? When is the appropriate time to have you reply that I’m not the type of baggage you want to take on?”

“You should have told me, Rayna!”

“When? On the bleachers at she
Staples Center
? Before or after I’d hung up with Michelle, letting her know that I was still alive?” This is all pouring with sarcasm. I hope I won’t regret using when he claims to have fallen in love with me in a form of mockery in a fight.

“Don’
t give me that shit! You’ve had plenty of time to share this pertinent information!”

“
When?” I snap. I toss the file down the hallway. “When did I have a chance? You just kept coming back...you wouldn’t stop! When I ran, you kept chasing me. And then I fell into the possibility of putting all of...” I wave to the pile of disrupted papers scattered across the floor. “...that behind me. Why would I tell you? You saw the horror. You’ve obviously acquainted yourself with my mess—”

“Because I was marrying you!” Azmir’s eyes
goes wild with what feels like resentment. “You think I’d walk into this shit with blinders?” his brows furrow. “It was bad enough that I damn near walked into an engagement with them. You think I’d go into a life with you without knowing your ghosts?”

My breathing hitche
s. He’s referring to my announcement of Akeem being in prison the night before we left for Tahiti.

“
You wake up some nights calling some dude’s name, and for months I’ve been too afraid to ask about it, fearing you’d hit the pavement!” He snorts, “Now I know the tale behind J-Boog!”

“
I would’ve told you. I’m getting better at talking!” I scream into his face.

“
Fuck waiting! Do I look like the type of man who waits for shit to come together, Rayna? Am I the type of man that waits for things to fall into his lap? Huhn?” I don’t know if that’s rhetorical, but I’m certain of the answer. “The worst part of having things kept from you is the waiting!”

“
So, what...I was going to happily share that I’d dated a d-boy, took his money, and skipped town? Yeah, right!” I scoff. “This would have never made it here.” I lift my wedding rings to him, feeling prematurely victorious in this battle. Confident that he’ll see it from my perspective.

Azmir cock
s his head to the side, glaring at me with incredulity, taking his time to speak. “I knew about the ten grand to Sebastian…you got the first ring,” he takes a step closer to me. “I learned about the
d-boy
, the murders, the money…you got the second one with my fuckin’ lifelong commitment to love, honor, respect, and protect you.” He’s now just inches away, bent down and over into my face, steeping anger emanating. “I’m still here!” He pushes his index finger into the floor as he howls, forceful breaths of venom hitting my face. “
I
don’t fuckin’ run!”

Azmir h
olds his scowl and proximity as I observe his erratic breathing and flared nostrils. I’m rendered speechless. I’m still angry, still feel violated, but that’s pushed to the side by his expressions of being left…by me. 

“
But what you won’t get,” his voice, now terrifyingly lower, is hoarse and pouring with some strange emotion. “…is to lie, run, and keep shit else away from me.” His eyebrows rise, “It’s
our
fuckin’ bubble now—not just yours! It’s
our
lives, feelings, and privacy that get insulated, no longer yours alone.”

He st
ands in this position for what feels like minutes long, awaiting my rebuttal, I guess, something that won’t come. He’s left no room for it. I stand in place, rigid with embarrassment, anger, rigged with disappointment in myself—self-debasement, shame. When he turns for his office, I almost expect to feel the door slam, but that never comes. Azmir carefully closes the door, leaving me to reconcile my demons. Alone.

For days after that fight
, I’m peppered with regret. Azmir’s bone-chilling homily still echoing in the darkest places of me. Though I’m still tender from his infraction, more than anything I’m feeling that I let him down once again. Worst of all, I don’t get the chance to properly apologize or try to explain my perspective with a cooler head.

~~~~~~~~~~

The following day, after our fight, Azmir leaves for New York City to attend a memorial for Christopher Wallace, something that he’s had regular attendance at and almost didn’t make because of our honeymoon. I chose the date. It’s exactly like A.D. to not make me aware of such a meaningful event to him so that he could meet my request. Also in typical A.D. fashion, he invited me to attend with him weeks before our wedding. I declined, not wanting to miss too many days from work. I now challenge my decision.

It’s been two days since he
’d left and I’m dealing with a new type of blues: missing my husband. As cynical as this may sound, I’ve developed a new bond with him since exchanging vows. Perhaps it’s from spending so many days with him after being apart for weeks. Maybe it’s all of the picturesque scenery of the Pacific. It could be the galvanic exchange during our lovemaking sessions.
My god!
They’ve been powerful—from the first time I jumped him, the day after the wedding, waking him from a sleep to feel his steely girth inside of me. Each experience was just as electrifying as the last, if not more. Each day I awakened on my honeymoon, I questioned the reality of it all.

And now, I’m alone
, feeling like the other half of my soul is missing. Azna aside, this apartment now feels like a massive structure of emptiness. The copious space this place provides only enlarges the void I feel from the king of the castle being gone. I feel a flicker of grief in my chest as I snuggle into bed. I seriously doubt this is what the honeymoon phase feels like. 

The following day at work
, my mood improves, at least. I’m in the groove of my day almost immediately, seeing patients and being wished years of wedded bliss by those Sharon manages to share my news with. Before I know it, I’m sitting behind my desk, scarfing down a tuna sandwich when my cell goes off. I don’t recognize the number and therefore let it go to voicemail. I know it’s not Azmir or work, so I’m fine. But then I think of Erin:
what if someone’s calling with an emergency concerning her?
We’re due to hang out Thursday evening and I’m greatly looking forward to that headful of sandy blonde curls to aid my blue mood.

I decide
to check the message, and I’m surprised to hear April’s voice on the other end.

“
Rayna, it’s April. You know…April Miller from undergrad?
” her voice drips sarcasm. “
Anyway, I’m just going to get right to it. It’s sad that I hear about your wedding through a third party,
” Third party? “
I mean, I know we’ve never been besties like you and Michelle, but we’re not exactly enemies either
.” My mouth forms into a moue as I hear April sigh.
Is she really angry?
Why? “
Well, so that you know, mine and Gerald’s wedding date is set for June and you and your husband are on the guest list. Contrary to what you may feel about me, I still consider you a…friend
,” she pauses, sounding to be holding back on boiling emotions. “
Look, Rayna
,” her voice is almost strained. “
I’ve changed. If you give me a chance to explain a few things, you’ll see. I want to be friends. I hate the way we left things that day at Holy Deliverance Tabernacle. I would like an opportunity to…talk. Please call me back; I don’t want to hear about the next event of your life on SandraRose.com and The YBF
.”

After she end
s her rant, with my head spinning, I go straight to those sites, starting with the first that she called out. I’m only recently familiar with them because of Azmir’s recent rise in interest for bloggers. We’ve been grist for their gossip mills for months now, which is why I requested no pictures at the wedding! Sure enough, there are pictures on both sites of the boat, several cabins, the main deck as it was being broken down to suit the ceremony, and something else far more revealing and personal than all before it: my wedding gown!

My breathing increas
es along with my heart rate; my mouth goes dry. I can’t believe anyone would go through all that trouble just to betray someone’s privacy. Who would be so deceptive and guileful? I note that there are no photos of the ceremony or guests, none of the cocktail hour, reception, me or Azmir, which could only mean the perpetrator didn’t have the heart to sneak flicks during the event—
or they didn’t have access to the festivities
.

Mechanically, I lift my office phone and dial. After two rings, he pick
s up. “Yeah, Jacobs?” His new moniker for me almost melts me, but his tone definitely puts me on ice. He sounds irritated. I remind myself that we haven’t exactly made up from our fight before he left for New York two days ago. He’s now in Tennessee for business.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you
.”
What a thing to say to your HUSBAND, Rayna!