Her Baby His Gift (The Slow Burn Duology Book 1) Page 6

  “First, Carter would date anyone wearing a dress. I’m not sure he has a type. I think his only criteria is that the woman is hot. Both you and Charisma fall in that category.” Her friends were very attractive women. Drop-dead gorgeous in Harlem’s estimation. Although Mesha was the shortie out of the trio, standing only at five-foot-two, she was the curviest. But what she lacked in stature, she more than made up in sass and style. Mesha wore her hair opposite Harlem. She wore it natural, cut low, and white-blonde. It was striking with her ebony complexion, rounded face against the backdrop of a smile that Colgate commercials couldn't touch. She also had a small waist and a nice ass that Harlem would kill to have.

  Charisma wasn’t tall or short. She was of average height and stood around five-foot-six. She had been wearing her hair in locs since forever. They had grown so long that they now hung down her back. Mesha considered herself enlightened, but Charisma was the earthy one out of the group. She was the girlfriend that saged the house of negative energy, sent affirmations, was a vegan, chanted, and meditated her way to self-fulfillment. Harlem wondered if that’s why her brown skin was always so radiant. She also was what some folks called thick. Charisma more than embraced it. She was one of the most confident women Harlem had ever met. Her friend certainly lived up to her name. Charisma had it in spades.

  “Second, I am flexible.” Harlem pursed her lips and sat back in her seat with her arms folded as if she’d put a period at the end of this conversation.

  Mesha and Charisma exchanged mischievous glances but remained silent as they held back their laughter.

  It was clear they disagreed. “I am,” Harlem said more forcefully.

  “You remember Rob Donnelly?” Mesha asked.

  Harlem nodded. “Of course, I remember him. He was class president of our freshman and sophomore years of high school.”

  “He had a huge crush on you.”

  Harlem waved them off. “No, he didn’t. He was just super nice.”

  “Oh, my god! Yes, he did.” Charisma still couldn’t believe Harlem was clueless. “Everyone knew it except you. It didn’t even enter your brain.”

  “That’s because it’s not true.”

  Slowly, Mesha shook her head in disagreement. “That’s where you’re wrong. Robbie asked me to hook you up with him.”

  “He did not.” Harlem didn’t believe it. “Did he?”

  “He did,” Mesha confirmed. I didn’t try to make a love connection because you, under no circumstances, would have dated that boy.”

  “Probably not, but it wouldn’t have been because he was white.”

  “Harlem!”

  Mesha and Charisma said in unison.

  “You were adamant about dating within your race.” Mesha reminded her.

  Harlem continued to push back. “I don’t recall that.”

  “You don’t remember telling us that you wanted your very own Morris Chestnut or Blair Underwood. The mere thought of entertaining anyone not a shade above Michael Jordan wasn’t even a remote possibility.”

  “We ain’t mad at ya. It’s your preference. You’ve found your perfect guy in Damian. He checked all the boxes on your list. We admire your dogged determination and perseverance.” Charisma said.

  “Wait,” Mesha reminded them. “The wedding board. That’s what started this entire conversation. You planned your entire wedding at thirteen. When do you think that might happen? You and Damian celebrate five years as a couple next week, right? I want our kids to grow up together.”

  Harlem shrugged nonchalantly when she was anything but. “We’re in no rush.” Marriage was important to her, but Damian detested the entire idea. They were coming to a crossroads in their relationship because of it. He was ready to start a family, and Harlem couldn’t imagine having children outside the confines of marriage. More importantly, Harlem couldn’t understand why she didn’t feel as connected to him as she thought she would. Harlem loved Damian. She just wasn’t sure if she was in love with him. “This weekend isn’t about me. It’s about you and us enjoying our last bit of your singledom before becoming Mrs. Jackson Lewis. As a matter of fact, let’s toast to that!”

  The three of them raised their half-empty glasses in a heartfelt congratulatory toast.

  Chapter 12

  “It’s my anniversary. Made for you and me.” The deep dulcet tones of Damian Fox singing Tone Toni Tony’s hit song-filled Harlem’s office suite. “Seriously, how long do I have to stand here before you realize it?”

  She glanced up from her desk to find all six-feet-two-inches of sexy goodness leaned up against the frame of the door. Damian looked as if he were posing for a magazine. Mr. GQ’s legs were crossed at the ankles while holding a massive bouquet of red long-stemmed roses.

  Shit! Harlem shot up out of her chair. “Have you been standing there long?”

  “About five minutes.” He shook his head. I guess I don’t have to worry about Mesha putting crazy ideas about weddings and marriage in your head. You can’t even seem to remember our anniversary.”

  “I remembered. I just got . . . caught up with work.”

  “I smell good, my fade is tight, and I’m looking like a million bucks for my girl, and you didn’t even notice.” Damian didn’t lack in the confidence department. He didn’t need to. The man was the trifecta–self-assured, wealthy, and fine. As a matter of fact, his smile was so dangerous, it was rumored to have made a few women sell their souls to the devil.

  Still, Harlem had been so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even know he was in the room. Harlem had completely forgotten about their dinner plans. Damian wasn’t lying about looking good. He was wearing a new custom chocolate-colored Armani suit. One that matched his beautiful dark brown skin.

  Shit. Shit! “I’m sorry!” Harlem said as she sat back down. “Just give me a few minutes to answer this e-mail and approve a couple of requisitions.”

  “Disappointed, Damian walked into her office and closed the door behind him. “I made the reservations for seven this evening thinking that would be late enough.”

  She mumbled. “I just lost track of time.” Her fingers suddenly started flying across her keyboard.

  Damian took a seat opposite Harlem’s massive desk. It was clear he was frustrated but trying not to show it–not on their fifth anniversary. “You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

  She had. Harlem felt the need to explain. “It’s just that this project is so important. I mean, can you imagine? At the end of it . . . me, Harlem Thomas will have designed the third tallest building in Chicago. If my team is successful, AJ told me that a Senior Partnership is all but guaranteed.”

  Damian’s smile faded. “Great.” His response was dry. “Sounds like more work to me.” After not accepting the flowers, he handed them to her. “Do you even want these?”

  Harlem didn’t miss the irritation in his eyes. It’s my anniversary, and I am screwing up. I need to fix this. Slowly, she stood. This time Harlem sauntered around her desk to stand directly in front of him. She leaned over so that they were eye level and held his gaze. “Yes. They’re beautiful. Thank you.” Her voice turned sultry. “I want these and you.” Harlem cupped the side of his face and leaned in, covering his lips with hers. She poured everything into the one kiss. Just as Damian was about to deepen it, Harlem pulled back. She whispered. “I promise, if you give me another two minutes, I’ll make up for everything.”

  Frustrated, Damian sat back in his chair. “You’re killing me, Harlem. If you can’t find time for us now, how the hell are you going to find the time when we have a baby?”

  This was an argument that Harlem definitely didn’t want to have. Not again and not tonight. “Damian, that’s not fair. I never complain about your late nights or business travel.”

  “Why would you? You’re my priority. I’m fully present when you’re in a room.”

  Harlem tilted her head slightly and placed a hand on her hip. “Really?”

  “Hell, yeah!” Unable to hide his gr
owing anger, Damian got up out of his chair. “And, after the baby comes, I’ll scale back even more.”

  “First, that’s easy for you to say. It’s your business. You’re the boss. Second, at some point when we have a baby, he or she will be my top priority too.”

  Damian narrowed his eyes as he looked at her pointedly. “At some point? Exactly when do you think that will be?”

  Harlem stuttered. “I-I told you when things slow down.” She definitely did not want to have this conversation. They did not agree on anything when it came to starting their family.

  “You do realize you’ve been saying that for the past couple of years.”

  She had.

  “You know how much I want to have kids. You’ve known since we met that I want a big family.”

  She did.

  “We’re not getting any younger.”

  They weren’t.

  “At this rate, we’ll be lucky to have two.”

  Harlem nibbled on her lower lip. “I think two is a good round number.”

  “Harlem,” the more Damian talked, the more riled up he became. “If we’re not on the same page, you need to say so.”

  They weren’t, but she wasn’t ready to admit it. “You’re asking me to sacrifice the career that I’ve worked hard for. I’m not ready to just give it all up.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it! You wouldn’t have to give anything up. We’re both people of means. We can hire all the help we need.”

  Harlem knew that, but she also didn’t want nannies raising her children. No, if she were honest, there was something else holding her back, and she was afraid to admit it, even to herself.

  Damian continued to make his point. “Almost all of our friends are settling into the family life. We’re the only ones without kids.”

  “We’re not the only ones. Is that what this is about? The pressure to start a family because everyone else has?”

  “I don’t give a goddamn about everyone else. I love you. I want to spend my life with you, and I’m ready to start our family. I’ve been ready. You’re the one who seems to want to flip the script. Why is that? And please don’t give me the bullshit about your job.”

  “My career,” She stressed the word, “is not bullshit!” Harlem was pissed at the way Damian was so casual about how he described her work. “If we are going to be honest and lay our cards on the table . . . let’s do it. Whose last name would our child have? If something were to happen to you, what legal protections would I have? You want me to give you a baby, but you’re not willing to give me your last name? That’s the difference between our friends and us! You’ve taken marriage off the table. I’ve accepted that, but I’m not willing to give up my career too.”

  Damian gritted his teeth in anger. “So without a ring, you’ve taken children off the table?” He ran a frustrated hand down the back of his head. “I’ve always been open and honest with you. Apparently, you haven’t. You should have told me the truth about how you really felt when we had this conversation the first time.”

  Harlem lowered her voice. She wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m not taking anything off the table.” This argument had escalated to borderline out of control. Harlem felt as if she were falling downhill at ungodly speeds and unable to stop the momentum. Her career was the one thing she had control over, and she didn’t want to lose it.

  Damian wanted to lower the temperature of their conversation too. He inhaled deeply to gather himself before speaking. He spoke in moderate tones. “Look, you know how I feel about marriage.”

  “I do. It’s just that I believe marriage is so much more than a societal construct. It can be beautiful between two people who really love each other. I’ve seen it. My parents have been married almost fifty years.”

  “Your parents are like a unicorn. Don’t we already have a beautiful relationship?”

  Harlem tried a different approach. “I know that your childhood was difficult . . .”

  The hairs on Damian’s body stood up. He was not going to discuss the horrors of growing up in foster care and group homes. Damian was now an adult. He chose to live in the real world. A world he thought Harlem wanted to share. “I’m completely committed to you. You know that.” He meant every word.

  Damian walked over to Harlem. He hesitated, then dropped down on one knee. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little black box.

  Harlem’s hands flew up to her throat, and her heart started racing. Oh my God.

  Something about the look in his eyes was so pure, honest, and almost desperate. “I wanted to give you this at dinner, but now is as good a time as any. I understand how important the idea of marriage is to you.” Slowly, Damian opened the box to reveal a dazzling five-carat emerald-cut diamond. “It doesn’t mean the same to me, but I want you to know how much I love you.”

  “Is that an engagement ring?” She whispered. Her stomach was in knots.

  Damian reached for her hand. “This ring is a symbol of my love and commitment to you and our family.”

  “Is that an engagement ring?” She asked a little louder.

  “It’s a promise that I will always be here for you until death do us part. I want that with you. Do you want it with me?” Damian’s eyes pleaded with hers. “If so, accept my ring, and let’s start the next chapter of our lives.”

  Harlem wanted marriage even though she denied it to herself. She had hoped that it would fix whatever it was that was missing between them.

  She had to make a decision. If Harlem said no, she was afraid this might be the end of their relationship, and Damian was her perfect mate. She might not ever find another man like him. If she said yes, Harlem might be denying herself the life she really wanted. She could no longer hide behind her career or even the excuse of wanting to get married. The simple fact was that Harlem wasn’t in love with him. She should be, and Harlem had tried her damnedest.

  It was her moment of truth.

  Chapter 13

  Damian couldn’t believe his cell phone began to buzz during this life-changing moment. He ignored it and held Harlem’s gaze. His heart pounded as the endless moments of silence ticked by, waiting for her to respond.

  “You should get that,” Harlem said softly, barely able to maintain the intensity of his stare.

  Don’t do this. Jump with me. Damian’s grip on her hand tightened just a bit. “I can’t imagine any call more important than what’s happening in this room.”

  Her mouth felt like sandpaper. Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I say yes? Not only were her palms sweaty, but Harlem’s body felt hot all over. She didn’t want to lose Damian, with more time she might fall in love with him. Harlem just wasn’t sure she could go along with his plans for the rest of their lives either. She was not ready to make a decision.

  Damian’s phone continued to buzz. Then, all of a sudden, Harlem’s cell and office line began to ring too.

  That’s odd. It was after hours. Who could be calling us both at the same time on our anniversary? She glanced over at the potentially life-saving object. “Seriously, maybe one of us should answer our phone.”

  Uneasiness swept over Damian. Everyone knew about his plans with Harlem. He tore his eyes away from her and pulled his phone out of his suit coat pocket. Irritated, he answered. “This is Dame.”

  Harlem could see by the change in his expression that something was seriously wrong.

  Slowly, he stood. “What hospital?”

  Her body went from hot to cold.

  “We’re on our way.” Damian disconnected the line. “That was Carter. Nate and Melody were in a car accident.”

  “Oh, God.” Harlem quickly grabbed her purse from off her desk. “How bad?”

  “Not good.” Damian reached for Harlem, and they ran out of her office.

  For now, the decision about their future was temporarily put on hold, and for that, Harlem was grateful.

  ******

  They rushed into the emergency room of Loyola Un
iversity Hospital. Damian and Harlem were immediately met by Carter.

  Worried, Damian asked. “How are they?”

  “Nate has a mild concussion and a broken arm. Melody was unconscious when they brought her in. We don’t know how bad, but . . .

  Nervously, Harlem urged Carter on. “But what?”

  “She’s in labor. They’re going to have to take the baby via emergency cesarean.”

  “My God. It’s too soon. She’s only twenty-four weeks.” Harlem couldn’t believe this was happening to Damian’s business partner and his wife. Damian squeezed her hand to reassure both himself and her. “They are going to be fine. All three of them.”

  Carter wasn’t so sure. Nate would lose his mind if anything were to ever happen to Melody or the baby.

  “Did anyone contact their families?” Harlem asked.

  Carter nodded. “I called their parents. I’m sending my plane for them. They should be here in the next few hours.” Carter figured Harlem had to be really worried. She’d spoken more to him in the last few minutes than she had over the past six months. He was Damian’s friend, and Harlem kind of came along with the package. He hated the way she always looked down on him and the way he chose to live his life. She was the poster child for boujee.

  Harlem was indeed surprised at how Carter was stepping up. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate that.” The man was actually thinking of someone other than himself. Harlem turned to Damian. “I’m going to head over to the waiting room.”

  “I’ll be there in a sec. I need a quick word with Carter.”

  Harlem nodded and left.

  “What the hell happened?” Damian asked. “And why do I get the feeling you were downplaying the seriousness of Melody’s situation? Is there something else I should know?”

  “They were hit almost head-on by a drunk driver. Mel's injuries are severe. I didn’t want to say much in front of Harlem. I know how sensitive she is about drunk-driving after almost losing her father in an accident. Anyway, I’ve already made a few calls to make sure that Nate and Melody have the best care possible.”