Tappin' On Thirty (19 page)

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Authors: Candice Dow

BOOK: Tappin' On Thirty
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I wasn't shocked that he got scooped up early, but I was curious what went wrong. My mind wandered.
He probably cheated.
I asked, “What happened?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“Why not?”
“Well her mother . . .” He sighed. “My ex-wife was probably one of the sweetest people I'd ever met in my life.” I frowned, prepared to hear how he screwed up. Acknowledging my thoughts, he clarified. “I mean, at that time. That's what I thought.”
We chuckled. He continued. “At that time in my life, I was coming to grips with Devin, with accepting my mother, and with managing a long-distance relationship.”
I frowned. He laughed. “It all relates. Give me a second.”
I nodded slowly as if I wasn't sure he could combine all the variables.
“So, here I was twenty-three years old, madly in love with a beautiful young lady from Maryland and . . .”
I smiled, because I now understood his admiration for the women in the area. He smiled. “This young lady.” He paused as if he should give her an identity. “Clark. She was the love of my life, but she had a lot of insecurities that were triggered by my actions. So, I went through a period of thinking she needed to change, when I really needed to just grow up and stop blaming her for all of our issues. Then, in comes Jennifer.” He chuckled. “That's Nicole's mom. She was so laid back. She rarely raised her voice. She was just cool.” He nodded as he reminisced on the good times. “It was a welcomed diversion from the drama that came with Clark.” He smiled, obvious admiration for his ex-drama queen.
He shifted in his chair. “And I thought the nice quiet girl was exactly what I needed. Not to mention, Jennifer was biracial and she understood my insecurities.”
I nodded anxiously. He put one finger up as if he was getting to the rest of the story. “Well, all that glitters ain't gold. And what you see ain't always what you get. By the time I realized that I loved my ex-girl—”
“The drama queen, right?”
He smiled and nodded, but didn't really fully acknowledge my sarcasm. “By that time, I was married to the devil and Nicole was a little baby. It all happened too soon.”
“Huh?”
He laughed. “You ever heard of the statement, a wolf in sheep's clothing?” he hissed. “That was my wife.”
“Why did it take you so long to figure that out?”
“It wasn't that long.” He paused as if he contemplated telling the rest. “Jennifer got pregnant almost immediately.” He sighed. “And I was raised to do the right thing.” He looked at me as if I had the answer. He huffed. “What is the right thing?”
“It depends.”
“When you're in your early twenties, you don't have a clue.”
Anxious to get the full story, I scooted closer. “Why do you say your ex-wife was so sneaky? What did she do?”
“I don't like to tell the story, because I try to forget it.”
I smiled. “You can tell me. You look like you want to talk about it.”
He huffed. “Almost two years into the marriage, I found out that she set me up. She intentionally got pregnant. She knew that I would marry her if she had my baby.”
That's the oldest sob story in men's history. They should know by now how not to get women pregnant. Why is it that
we
trapped
them
when we get pregnant? If we're the ones walking around with a big belly for nine months and eighty percent of the parental responsibility falls on us, who the hell is trapped again?
He laughed. “See, that's why I don't tell the story.”
“Go ahead. I'm just messin' with you. So, how did she trap you?”
“She stuck my condom packets with needles.”
“Devin, don't play.”
“I swear I'm not lying.”
“How do you know?”
“She admitted it.”
My mouth stretched open. “Are you serious? I don't believe you.”
“My divorce papers state fraud as the reason. If you want to take a look at them, be my guest.”
See, hookers like that make it bad for good women.
“I love my baby to death and I don't regret her being here. I just wish I hadn't married Jennifer. You know?”
He swallowed the last of his drink. The situation was obviously still a sore spot. The waiter sat a refill in front of him.
“So where's Clark?”
He smirked. “Happily married.”
“Do you think things would have worked for the two of you if it wasn't for Jennifer?”
He drew in a deep breath. “I dunno. I think about it all the time.”
As I was in the midst of backtracking and righting my own wrong, I sympathized with him. “Do you think you'll ever let it go?”
“I like to believe that I have.”
“Are you in a relationship now?”
“Nah, I'm a busy man.”
I smiled. “You know that's an excuse, right?”
With an affirmative nod, he proclaimed, “That's the truth.”
“How long have you been away from your wife?”
He squinted. “Five years. We've been divorced for four.”
“Have you had a serious relationship since your divorce?”
“Ah . . .” He thought momentarily. “I've had relationships, but nothing major.” He chuckled. “I'm married to my job and my daughter.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Seriously. I don't have time.”
“Are you waiting for Clark to get a divorce too?”
“Taylor, no. What kind of man do you think I am?”
I told him that he was human, just like me. Then, I was comfortable enough to give him the brief synopsis of my nineyear regret and how I'd stolen him from his girlfriend. However, I left out the part that she was a live-in girlfriend that still lived with him.
“Wow, that's amazing. So does he live here?”
I nodded. It was hard for anyone to digest that I had a boyfriend that lived in another state with his ex-girlfriend. You had to be a part of the relationship to really understand.
“He was right in this area all along and you guys never crossed paths.”
“Nope.”
He chuckled. “Taylor, you know you were just taking inventory.”
I squinted. “What?”
“Men have been doing it forever. Every year you take inventory of the people you dated and why you didn't like them or why it didn't work. Then, you start convincing yourself that they were really someone you could be with.”
“Yeah, I agree. I've taken inventory before. But my relationship now is different.”
“Why?”
I huffed. “Because I always knew it was a mistake.”
“So why did it take nine years for you to pursue it.”
I shrugged my shoulders. He chuckled. “As each year passed and you managed your inventory, he looked more and more like a king.”
“Whatever.”
He softly tapped down my hand that sat propped up defensively blocking his accusation. Then, he smiled. “Let me stop hatin'. Where's his old girlfriend.”
“History.”
“So, you took him from her in three weeks? That must be real love.”
“Yeah, I think you only get one real love.”
He tilted his head and smiled as if his love story played internally. “You think?”
“Yeah.”
“So, I should go take Clark from her man?” He laughed. “That's ludicrous.”
“Well it doesn't work out for everyone.”
He nodded and raised his glass for a toast. “I'm glad it worked out for you.”
Still a tad insecure about the whole thing, I nodded. “Thank you.”
Obviously the Grey Goose had taken over as he began to sing softly. “What if we were wrong about each other? What if you were really made for me? What if we were supposed to be together? Would that not mean anything? What if that was supposed to be my house that you go home to every day? How can you be sure that things are better if you can't be sure that your heart is still with me?”
My heart reached out to him. Questions and regret filled his eyes. I'd been there. Nine years of blaming myself. He still loved whoever this Clark woman was. His emotions were all too familiar to me. When someone hurts you, you can get over it. But when you hurt someone that you love, you end up six years later, drowning in sorrow and singing Baby Face.
Hoping to lighten the mood, I joked. “You know, Devin, my best friend always says that light liquor makes you emotional. So, maybe you should try something dark.”
“And what do you suggest I try?”
“I've actually been drinking Crown Royal lately. It's smooth and keeps your emotions in order,” I said, laughing.
“You're trippin'. I'm not emotional, but I'll give Crown Royal a try and see how it makes me feel.”
“I hope it helps you get over your ex-girl,” I teased.
“I'm definitely over it, but I guess I'm still looking for that high. You know?”
“Yeah, I know, but do you think it happens when you're over thirty?”
“I dunno. But if it doesn't, I'm comfortable being a single man.”
I wasn't convinced. His eyes told a different story, one of a man holding on to the past, with lost hope for the future, and burying himself in meaningless tasks. I nodded. He continued to attempt to convince me. “I spent the majority of my young years tied down. So, I'm really okay with being alone.”
I raised one eyebrow and asked, “Really?”
He laughed. “Yes, Dr. Phil.”
“I'm just curious, because I've been there.” I shook my head. “For nine years.”
“So I have a few years left to wallow in my misery.”
I shook my head. “No. You just need to forgive yourself.”
35
DEVIN
T
aylor and I left the restaurant, heading for the MCI Center. It had been such a long time since I'd had good conversation with a woman that I found attractive. She was what every man was looking for. She possessed the right balance between beauty and brains. She tipped a nine on both scales. Her humor was an added bonus. It's just my luck that I meet someone who stimulates both sides of the brain and she's taken. Whoever the dude is who landed her is a lucky man.
We trotted over to the arena, and I subconsciously reached for her hand. She offered it freely. Her peaceful smile made me smile. Who would ever think that Taylor Jabowski was a beautiful black woman with so much personality? Based on the details of her situation, it seemed like four weeks ago I could have still stuck my foot in the door.
When we got into the game, we walked down to our floor seats. Taylor kidded. “We ballin' y'all.”
“Yeah, we ballin'.”
Once the game began, it slipped my mind that I was here with a chick. She was standing up, making calls, getting emotional. We slapped high fives. I couldn't stop thinking,
Taylor Jabowski
.
I got two 32-oz. cups of beer from the concession stand. Instead of whining about it being too much or how she hates beer, she wiggled in her chair and cheered “Hey!”
She raised her cup and we toasted. She said, “To forgiveness.”
That hit home because I'd been in the process of purging my negative feelings toward Jennifer. I nodded. “To forgiveness.”
She gulped her drink. It was the sexiest thing I'd seen in a long time. I studied her. When she pulled the cup down, she looked at me. “Whatchu doing?”
I smiled. “Watching you.”
She smirked. Then, she started singing, “If you want my body and you think I'm sexy, c'mon baby let me know.”
She giggled. I just looked at her without cracking a smile. My intense stare forced her to pause. Our gaze connected. She turned her head to end the attraction.
We focused on the game and she didn't try me again. She stood up and cheered. I pretty much sat in my seat and admired her from behind, beside, and between. During commercial breaks, the music played and she danced. Hanging out with her was money well spent. Suddenly, I looked up and our faces were on the big screen. I pointed. She covered her face. Our one second of stardom felt like an eternity. So that I didn't look like a sucker, I reached over and moved her hands from her face and kissed her. Her head rested helplessly in my hands, as we continued to kiss. When the feeling resonated with her, she pulled back and glared at me.
“I'm sorry, Taylor. The camera made me do it.”
She smirked. “Yeah, right.”
“Don't be mad at me.”
“I know not to hang out in a public place with you anymore.”
“Does that mean we can still hang out?”
She folded her arms. “I'll keep you posted.”
When the game was over, I didn't want to part. She was apprehensive as well. We both said, “Okay.”
“All right then.”
“All right.”
“I had a great time.”
“We have to do this again.”
I wanted to invite her over to my empty place, but I decided against it. This was the best date I'd been on since I've been single. After walking Taylor to her car, I skipped back to mine. Though she was taken, I was hopeful. Good women aren't extinct. Maybe Jennifer was right, nothing good would come as long as I harbored bitterness toward her.

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