Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74383 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 372(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
How did I convince Montana to attend court? My hand stroked his beard. “Oh, baby. He’s supposed to be someone you can trust most in this world.”
“Nah.”
“Yes, your father.”
“I trust God, Zuri! My momma. My brothas. My sis, Mad—though she’s living up to her nickname. Auntie Peaches. Some of my family. You.”
“Same.” My hand squeezed his, and the connection thrumming through our palms brought us to higher ground together. Virginia told me to be the salt. Bring him to my level. But this … us talking, growing together, softened my heart.
Besides, I doubt that’s where we should stop. We should be constantly striving. Growing. Was that her point? Once we were on the same level, we climb together.
My eyes darted to the leather jacket. The contract. Something I still believed in. Can I have more of you, Montana?
I remembered that ache in the HC&PP kitchen when I asked to get real with him, in front of a crowd. Now it was just us. My moment.
My chest heaved as I slid the plate away and scooted over on the counter until I was close enough to Montana. My legs rested over the counter, beside his obliques. His breath caught, unraveling the tension that resided in his shoulders.
The space between us felt thick and heavy. His gaze locked on mine, causing another shift.
Less tension.
My voice came out low, a tremble of emotion, laced in affection. “Montana, baby …” I swallowed, his name heavy on my tongue. “I know the sting of betrayal, the kind that comes from someone you should trust.”
His jaw tightened, eyes dark like he wanted to pull me in, but didn’t trust himself to. If Montana fell for me in the silence … let it be.
A moment later, Montana scooped me off the island countertop and carried me over to the open French doors. We sat outside on a couch, and he pulled me onto his lap, a blanket surrounding us.
Though he didn’t say it, some of the resentment he held for his father seemed to disappear. Perhaps the ghosts of my past, standing between us, and my confession of betrayal by those I trusted, helped close the distance. I desperately needed to believe that, because if his heart weren’t so weighed down, maybe his love for me would flourish beyond this fleeting month.
After a time, Montana spoke. “You know all about me, chère.” His palm stroked my spine, while my cheek lay in the crook of his neck. His beard tickled my forehead, the Bay rum oil scent enveloping me. “If you have any questions. Hesitation, bébé. Ask.”
“No, I don’t. You’ve been honest with me, Montana. Even your alter ego is brutally honest.”
“Okay.” That soft, firm drag of his palm never stalled. “Tell me your story, Zuri. That’s all I ask.”
zuri
. . .
Four Years Ago
Malik lay asleep at my breast in the private hospital. The warmth of skin on skin pulled me near to the tiny life I had created. Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in?” I expected to see the nurse. She’d shown kindness. Hadn’t asked who my child’s father was, though the entire hospital—from general practice to specialized care, and hell, even the Ear, Nose, and Throat doctors—had speculated.
Edwin entered. He pawed the silver streak in his thick goatee, shut the door behind him, and leaned against it. “Boy or girl?” he asked.
“I had a son. His birth certificate won’t include your name, rest assured. Just go.”
“Why are you doing this to us, Zuri? We’re dynamic. I heard you want to treat scum.”
I rolled my eyes. “Not scum. People at County don’t have the best health insurance.”
My position at the county hospital began in a few weeks. I’d secured childcare. But healthcare? I’d be damned if I wasn’t sticking the bill to this hospital.
“You’ll start at their free clinic. Is it Wednesdays and Fridays or Tuesdays and Thursdays? What’s next, Saturday morning cartoons and a tin can for coins?”
“Does it matter? I’ll be doing what I love.” My arms wrapped around Malik, tiny and new. “Do me a favor. Don’t ask the next first-year med student to abort your child. Doesn’t matter if she reveals her pregnancy on Chicken Wing Wednesday. Life matters. Those I’ll treat at County matter too, Dr. Heine.”
I glared at him, hand sneaking under the crumpled covers to reach for the nurse call button.
He grabbed the remote and flung it against the wall.
Malik jerked awake. Tiny newborn cries rent the air.
“Shut him up!” Edwin pulled an envelope from inside his blazer.
At his harsh glare, a dread seized me, and I pulled Malik closer. My baby stimulated and latched.
“Good.” Edwin opened the envelope. He placed it in front of me.
“Adopt … adoption?” I murmured. “You want me to put my child up for adoption?” I’d never mentioned foster care. My past was a drain on his affluent life. He was a prominent member of the hospital board. In addition, he’d coauthored medical journals that I had cited while in college.