Passion by the Book (Kimani Hotties) Page 18

On the bottom shelf in kitchen pantry, he perused the rows of vintage bottles. He hated creamy flavors that tasted sweeter than ice cream, but he selected the brand that Simone liked. Had to. Two glasses of it, and his wife became more amorous than the character in She’s Gotta Have It. And tonight, he had to have her.

  As Marcus stood, he spotted a glossy, white business card at his feet. The word home was scrawled on it, and underneath was a local area number. Tucking the wine bottle under his arm, he picked up the card and flipped it over. When he saw the name on the card, in large, bold, block letters, his skin paled five shades.

  Scared he was going to drop the wine bottle, he placed it on the counter and tried to calm himself down. Staring intently at the card, Marcus searched it for clues. What was Jaxson Stafford’s business card doing in his house? And why was his home number written on the back? Marcus had never met the famed divorce attorney, but he sure as hell knew who he was. Everyone did. Hailed as the Johnny Cochran of the East Coast, the thirty-year-old Chicago native had a reputation for bedding his clients—married and otherwise—and after Angela featured him on her “Young, Rich and Powerful” segment his popularity had shot through the roof.

  There was a logical explanation for this, Marcus told himself. Had to be. Simone must have called Jaxson on behalf of one of her clients. Right, that’s it, his inner voice jeered. She’s counseling an über-rich woman who can afford the hotshot attorney’s six-figure retainer!

  Marcus coughed. Unless Simone was the über-rich woman seeking Mr. Stafford’s services. His throat burned, stung so bad he couldn’t swallow. It could only mean one thing: Simone wanted a...a... He stumbled over the word, couldn’t bring himself to say it. He crumpled the business card and chucked it on the floor.

  He couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wrap his head around the truth. Simone had hired an attorney, and not just any attorney, but a man who had an impeccable track record. A man with a reputation for slicing and dicing his opponents in open court.

  His hands curled into fists. Marcus wanted to punch something—hard, wanted to find an outlet for his anger, but he wouldn’t trash his home, the place where his kids lived and played. His sons.

  Jayden and Jordan were his universe, the reason why he pushed himself to accomplish every dream, every goal. Simone knew that. So why would she do something like this?

  Hanging his head, he ran his hands down the length of his face. He was...was... Marcus couldn’t find the words, couldn’t identify what he was feeling inside. He was upset, angry, sure, but he was hurt more than anything. Things had been strained ever since he opened his sixth Samson’s Gym location, and now with Simone working he hardly saw her anymore, but that didn’t mean he was ready to throw in the towel. He wasn’t. Not ever. On their wedding day, he’d vowed to God and that jovial minister who kept cracking jokes that he’d love and protect Simone until the day he died. She’d made the same vow, the same promise. Had it all been a lie? Something she said, but didn’t truly mean—

  “You’re home.”

  He’d been so caught up in his thoughts, he didn’t hear Simone come in. Marcus turned to face her and wished to God he hadn’t. Her beauty had an incandescent quality to it, a truly striking glow that stole his breath every time. He admired her creamy brown skin, her delicious, pouty lips, the seductive curve of her hips outlined in her black, fitted suit. She looked good to him. Real good. Always had, always would. He wanted to welcome her home with a hug and a kiss, like they usually did at the end of a long day, but then he remembered she was sneaking around with Jaxson Stafford and plunged his hands into his jeans pocket.

  “I thought you were going to the bar to watch boxing with your friends.”

  His mouth was dry, but he managed to speak. “I changed my mind.”

  Simone dumped her briefcase at her feet. Papers spilled out, landing in a heap on the floor, but she didn’t pick them up. She didn’t have the energy. Not tonight. For the past hour, she’d driven around aimlessly, replaying her argument with Derek and trying to figure out why Marcus would tell his brother about the lowest moment in her life. Simone didn’t want to talk to him, and if she’d known Marcus was home she would have gone to Angela’s house. Or not, she thought, recalling her conversation with her best friend earlier in the day. Angela was en route to Philadelphia to chase down another hot lead for her “Athletes Behaving Badly” exposé. A scowl bruised Simone’s lips. They’re not the only ones behaving badly.

  “Where are the boys?” Marcus asked, his tone thin, flat.

  “I went to pick them up from your mom’s, but Derek said they went grocery shopping. I called Gladys, and she promised to drop them off soon.”

  “God, I hate when you do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Say my brother’s name with such disgust.”

  Her eyes filled with wide-eyed innocence. “I don’t like men who abuse women,” she said tightly. “I’m sorry if that bothers you, but guys like Derek make me sick.”

  “He paid his debt to society, Simone, but since you brought up the assault case, might I remind you that his ex-girlfriend hit him first. She admitted as much in court.”

  “Yeah, probably because Derek threatened her with bodily harm.”

  My brother’s not perfect, and he’s messed up a lot over the years, but at least he’s loyal—”

  Simone broke in. “At least someone in your family is.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Why did you tell Derek about that night?”

  “What night?”

  “The night I told you I was pregnant.”

  Marcus hung his head. Damn. What had his brother done now?

  “After calling me a gold digger, Derek repeated everything I said to you verbatim!” she yelled, venting her anger. “How could you, Marcus? How could you share my deepest, darkest feelings with someone who’d one day throw it back in my face?”

  Shame singed his cheeks, spread like fire down his neck. Marcus remembered that blistering summer night with astounding clarity. Still, even after all these years. He’d opened his front door, and Simone had literally fallen into his arms—crying, shaking, on the brink of hysteria. To comfort her, he’d cradled her to his chest and led her inside. Once her tears had subsided, she’d told him everything. About how a blood test at her doctor’s office revealed that she was pregnant, and that the ultrasound confirmed she was carrying twins. It was like someone had sucked all the air out of the room. His entire body had gone numb. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and his head had pounded so violently he’d feared he was having a stroke.

  “I can’t believe you’d tell Derek something you know I’m ashamed of. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to come to your place that night?”

  “I needed someone to talk to,” he admitted, shaking off the memories of her heart-wrenching confession, “so I turned to Derek for some brotherly advice.”

  “You could have confided in anyone, but instead of choosing someone mature and wise you told my business to Derek. Real fine choice, Marcus.”

  “I’m not going to apologize for confiding in my brother.”

  Simone fired back, “Good. Don’t. I didn’t ask you to.”

  “Whatever. It’s in the past. Let it go.”

  “You know what, Marcus? Sometimes you can be a real jerk.”

  “I know.” He barked a bitter laugh. “That’s what you keep telling me.”

  “God, I’m so sick of fighting with you! You don’t appreciate me, or all the things I do to make you happy. All you do is take, take, take—”

  “Is that why you hired Jaxson Stafford? Because you want out of this marriage?”

  Simone paused, sucked in a deep breath. Not because she needed time to prepare an answer, but because the question stunned her.

  “So it’s true. You�
��ve been meeting with that clown behind my back.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh, no, what’s it like?”

  “He’s not just an attorney. He’s a licensed therapist, who I’ve been seeing for the past month—” Simone paused when she saw her husband wince. His face was red, and the veins in his neck were stretched so tight his eyes were twitching. “I was apprehensive about going to counseling at first, but talking to someone about how I’m feeling really helps.”

  “I bet it does. Apparently, he has a way with words that drive women wild.”

  Simone ignored the jab and continued speaking. “I have an appointment scheduled for tomorrow, and I’d like you to come. I think talking to a professional will help us work through some of our issues.”

  “Cancel the appointment, Simone. I’m not going, and neither are you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do, Marcus. I’m your wife, not a piece of property,” she shot back, refusing to wither under his piercing gaze. “Jaxson’s an incredible therapist, and—”

  “Oh, so you guys are on a first-name basis? How professional.”

  “We are now that he’s agreed to do some pro bono work for Friendship House.”

  “You’re going to be working with that clown, too?”

  “What’s the matter with you? Why are you getting so upset?”

  Marcus shouted his words. “Because he’s a divorce attorney, Simone! A divorce attorney who screws his clients, then brags about it to his friends! His colleagues work out at Samson’s and you should hear the way they talk. They’re raunchy and lewd....”

  Simone felt like screaming, like releasing all of the day’s frustration in one loud, ear-piercing wail. First, she’d argued with Mr. Gladstone about how he’d botched the Lester DeWitt case, then Derek verbally attacked her and now Marcus was accusing her of having an inappropriate relationship with her therapist. Simone scoffed, rolled her eyes at the ludicrous claim. As if she’d ever cheat on Marcus. Didn’t he know how much she loved him, how thankful she was to have him in her life?

  “There’s nothing going on between me and Jaxson. I talk and he listens. That’s it.”

  “Have you ever discussed ending our marriage with him?”

  Her first inclination was to lie, to say something mean and cruel that would hurt him, the way his betrayal had hurt her, but she didn’t, couldn’t. “No. Never.”

  “Sure,” he said, folding his arms. “You’re lying. You can’t even look me in the eye.”

  That’s because my heart can’t take any more pain! Simone willed herself not to cry, not to break down like she had that night in Marcus’s living room. “Why does it matter? It’s not like you love me. You only married me because I got pregnant, remember?”

  Marcus slammed the pantry door so hard, the glasses in the cabinet shook. He stared at her for a long, intense moment, then dropped his hands to his sides. “I’m done.”

  Simone heard the tremor in his voice, the rawness, knew he was battling his emotions. She’d only seen him cry once—the day Jayden and Jordan were born—and those had been tears of joy. He stood rigidly, but Simone could see the pain in his eyes, the defeat.

  “I never realized that you were so miserable in our marriage...I thought we were good,” he said softly, sadly. “If you want out, I won’t stop you. You can have the house, the cars, the properties, whatever, but I want full custody of the boys.”

  Simone pried her lips apart, opened her mouth to apologize, to beg him for forgiveness, but nothing came out. The overwhelming sense of loss and sadness hit her like a one-two punch, leaving her weak, speechless.

  Marcus felt himself unraveling, losing control. His face twitched like he was about to sneeze, and his breathing was shallow, labored. “I guess I need to go out and find my own hotshot attorney, huh, Simone?” The words pierced his heart, stung his pride. Marcus couldn’t fathom breaking down in front of her, so he turned and stalked out of the room.

  When Simone heard the door slam, her heart plunged to her knees, shattered into a million pieces like that lamp they’d knocked over while making love last week. A sharp pain stabbed her side and reverberated quickly down her spine. Simone wanted to chase Marcus down, wanted to make him listen to her, but she was shaking so hard she couldn’t move.

  Pull yourself together, girl. The boys will be home soon. Staggering out of the kitchen like a cheap drunk, she stumbled down the hall and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Crying never made anything better, she told herself over and over again. But when Simone walked into the master bedroom and saw the rose petals, the candlelit table, the oversize bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries and the gift box sitting on the middle of her bed, her legs gave way and she dropped to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Chapter 18

  God, please don’t let it be time to wake up. I haven’t slept yet!

  The scent of strawberries sweetened the air, causing Simone’s stomach to coil and clench. Disorientated, and still half-asleep, she threw off her covers and rolled onto her side. Simone felt queasy, like a cruise ship passenger who’d overeaten at the twenty-four-hour buffet, but she lifted her head off the pillow and peeled open one eye. And there, standing beside the dresser, holding an oversize plate topped with toast, cheese and fruit, were her adorable twin boys.

  “Surprise!”

  A smile found her lips. Wearing identical uniforms, and ear-to-ear grins, Jayden and Jordan looked so much like their father, it made Simone’s heart ache. She still couldn’t believe that Marcus was gone. Not after everything they’d been through. Not after five great years of marriage. Living without him was torture, by far, the worst thing that could have ever happened to her. Simone had never been the weepy type and was always in control of her emotions, but every time she looked at her sons, the tears came.

  “Look, Mommy, we made breakfast!”

  “I can see that.” Yawning, she sat up against the headboard and stretched her arms high in the air like a yoga instructor. It was her day off, a day she’d been looking forward to spending with Marcus, but sadly, he wasn’t home. Hadn’t been since their argument. And like every day since he’d left, she wondered where he was and how he was doing. It had been a week since he’d walked out on her—seven lonely, miserable days—and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since. No calls, no texts, no emails, no nothing. Simone wanted to work things out, but she didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them. She’d called and left a message on his cell phone yesterday, but she couldn’t bring herself to phone again. What if he yelled at her? Or hung up? What would she do then?

  “Something smells delicious,” Simone said, sniffing the air. “What did you boys make?”

  Jayden pointed at his brother. “We wanted to make pancakes, but Jordan dropped the pancake mix on the floor, so we made fried toast instead.”

  “Fried toast?”

  “Yeah, and we added fruit just like you do.”

  Simone hid a smile. “Oh, baby, you mean French toast.”

  “That’s what I said, Mommy.”

  “Boys, you’re not allowed to use the stove by yourself, remember? It’s dangerous and you could get seriously hurt.”

  “We know. That’s why we used the toaster.” Jordan swiped the fork off the plate, jabbed a strawberry and swirled it in the maple syrup. “Open up, Mom!”

  Simone wasn’t hungry, but although the thought of eating made her stomach lurch, she accepted the fruit offered and chewed merrily. It was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, something she’d never willingly eat again, but she kissed her sons and thanked them for being so thoughtful. “It’s time to get cleaned up, boys. School starts in an hour, and we can’t be late!”

  In the bathroom, she dusted the flour off th
eir sweaters, put on their bow ties and combed and brushed their hair.

  “Mommy, is Daddy going to be okay?”

  Taken aback by the question, Simone tried not to show that Jayden’s question had rattled her. “Daddy’s fine, baby,” she said, presenting a calm, poised face.

  “But yesterday when I was playing in Daddy’s office I heard him tell Uncle Nate that he was going crazy without you.”

  Jordan piped up, “And a boy in our class said his crazy brother eats bugs and rocks!”

  The boys dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  “What else did your dad say?” Simone knew she was fishing for information, knew that a good mother never encouraged her children to gossip, but she couldn’t help it. How else was she supposed to know what Marcus was thinking when he refused to talk to her?

  “Daddy said he misses you, and that he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in days.”

  Hope ballooned in Simone’s heart. Marcus missed her?

  “You have to stop tickling Daddy, though. He hates it.”

  Simone didn’t understand, but before she could question Jayden further, Jordan explained.

  “Yeah, Mom, Jayden’s right. I heard Daddy tell Uncle Nate that you do things in bed that make his head spin.”

  Humiliation singed her cheeks, but when Jordan did a spot-on imitation of his dad—complete with the trademark grin and booming chuckle—Simone cracked up. It was the first time all week she’d had a good, hard laugh, and long after she had dropped Jayden and Jordan at school, she was still giggling about all the hilarious things they’d said.

  An hour after leaving Webber Academy for Boys, Simone pulled into Glamour Girlz Beauty Salon and found the last vacant space out front. Choosing to think about how much fun she’d had that morning with her sons instead of how much she missed Marcus, she activated the alarm and hurried inside the trendy salon. Angela was the first person Simone saw when she entered the jam-packed waiting area, and when her friend waved like an overzealous crossing guard, Simone laughed out loud.

  “Hey, gorgeous!” Angela greeted, giving her a tight hug. “I was just about to call you.”