Chantelle pulled out of his grasp and ran down the hallway, bolting into her room before slamming the door shut.

  He hurried after her, catching up just as the door closed in his face. He banged on it. “Chantelle! Chantelle, come on. Open up. We need to talk about this.”

  She cracked open the door. “You led me on, Derek. You had me thinking that you wanted me, you wanted us, when all along you were just playing me.”

  She moved to close the door again. He put his hand up to stop it, easing himself inside. “No, it wasn’t like that. Just listen to me for a minute.”

  She let go of the door and stepped closer. “So you weren’t leading me on? You do want us to be together?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying either.” He placed her bags on the ground inside the door and let out a deep breath. “The truth is, I thought we were just hanging out as friends. But now that I think about it, I don’t think you and me hanging out together is a good idea.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Chantelle.” He ran a hand over his head. “I am sorry if I gave you the impression that there could be anything between us. There can’t be. We’re two very different people.”

  “We’ve always been different.” Chantelle reached out and touched his arm. “But that is what’s so great about us. After all, opposites attract.”

  “No, opposites pull in different directions until there is nothing left between them at all,” Derek said. “I am different from the man you knew last year. The man you knew before would have been into that little scene in the elevator. But I’m not anymore. At least not with any woman who isn’t my wife.”

  Chantelle squinted. “So you’re saying you want to get married?”

  Derek gritted his teeth and closed his eyes. “No, I’m saying that we’re not a good fit...”

  “Is this because of what I did? Because I told you I’m sorry. Can’t you forgive me?”

  The tremor in Chantelle’s voice made Derek feel terrible. Why did this have to be so difficult?

  “I do forgive you, Chantelle,” He said, realizing as he took her hand that he actually had forgiven her. “That doesn’t mean that we belong together.”

  She blinked rapidly. “So that’s it? You’re just going to dump me like this after all we’ve been through?”

  Derek wanted to point out that for him to dump her they would have actually had to be together. But he didn’t think it was the appropriate time to mention that.

  “I’m sorry, Chantelle.” He squeezed her hand. “This is for the best. For both of us.”

  He looked at her one last time before stepping out of the suite into the hallway. She followed him to the door. He could feel her eyes on him as he moved towards the elevators.

  “Don’t do this, Derek,” she called after him. “You’ll regret it.”

  Derek pressed the button to call the elevator lift to the tenth floor. Chantelle was wrong. He wouldn’t regret it. In fact, the only thing he would regret was that he hadn’t held the door shut on this part of his life more firmly before now. On the ride up in the elevator and while standing at Chantelle’s door, he realized something that he had not been completely sure of before - he was different. By no means perfect, but definitely not the man he had been twelve months ago. God had changed him. And the things that had attracted him to Chantelle, the relationship they’d had, was not the kind of relationship he wanted anymore. He wanted someone who unlocked his mind as quickly as Chantelle had undone his clothes. He wanted someone who challenged him to be more than he was. He wanted someone whose faith encouraged his own. As he stepped onto the elevator, Derek realized that he had found all that. And he had let it go.

  Chapter 20

  Morgan paced the floor in Topman’s and glanced at her watch. It was almost four. Derek would be here any moment. She took a deep breath and braced herself. This would be the first time they worked together one on one since the wedding. Her little drama queen scene at his office didn’t count. She had barely spent five minutes with him then and she’d had her annoyance and frustration to fuel her. Now that he had called, made an appointment with her and agreed to show up, there was little anger to power her emotions. She would just have to face him head on.

  “You can do this, girl” She twisted a lock of her hair around her finger. “It’s just work. Pick some pieces, select the best ones, and keep it moving.”

  Her pep talk helped a little, until the glass doors swung open and Derek walked in. She watched as he looked around the boutique, his eyes scanning then lighting up when they fell on her.

  “Morgan.”

  He closed the distance between them with long purposeful strides. Had he always been that tall? It felt like he towered over her.

  “Derek.”

  “Am I late?” He glanced at his watch. “I got a little lost finding this place.”

  “No, you’re actually right on time.” She turned and headed down the tiled aisle between clothing racks towards the back of the store. “Let’s get started.”

  “What is this place?” Derek followed behind her.

  She glanced back at him. “You’ve never been to Topmans’s?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.”

  “So where do you buy your clothes?”

  He shrugged. “Macy’s, Bloomingdale’s, H&M.”

  She stopped and turned around to look at him, giving him a once over from head to toe. He was dressed the same way he usually was: dark jeans, collared shirt and of course Solid Step Footwear original kicks. Sometimes he switched up the shirt from short to long sleeves. Sometimes there was a graphic tee or a henley, but it was more or less the same trendy casual look, which suited him pretty well. Then again, Morgan didn’t think it would take much to make Derek look good.

  He must have noticed her evaluating him. He began to fidget.

  “Look, before we start, I just want to say I’m sorry.” He stuck his hands in his pocket. “The night of the reception, the beautiful comment...I didn’t mean it. I was...I was wrong. The things I said...”

  Morgan waved her hand to stop him. “I don’t want to rehash it. Let’s just forget it.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I won’t forget it. You don’t deserve to be spoken to the way I spoke to you. I was...surprised...and thrown off. But that was no excuse. I am sorry Morgan.”

  “Okay.”

  “In fact, if you want to yell at me, call me a jerk and anything else, go right ahead,” Derek said earnestly.

  “Really, Derek. That’s not necessary.”

  “No.” he shook his head. “I mean it. Go ahead. Call me names. Slap me. Punch me in the gut. Whatever will make you feel better.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “I don’t need to do any of that.”

  “Are you sure?” He tilted his head to the side. “Cause I can take it. Anything you want to throw my way, I know I deserve. I can handle...”

  Morgan reached out and slapped him across the face.

  “Oww!” He grabbed the left side of his face. “You slapped me!”

  Morgan shrugged. “You told me to.”

  Geez,” He opened and closed his mouth to stretch out his jaw. “That was like a pimp slap. Dang. I hope you feel better now.”

  Morgan tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “Actually, I do a little.”

  Derek exercised his jaw some more. “I think my face is going numb.”

  “Good,” Morgan opened a door behind her and entered a small room. “That means you’ll argue less with what we’re about to do.”

  She walked into what looked like a small sitting area with mirrors on three sides, fitting rooms on the other and a couch and pedestal in the middle. Morgan passed them all and went straight to the rack of clothes that another woman was busy arranging.

  “This is Hannah.”

  The petite blonde woman who couldn’t be more than nineteen turned around and waved shyly.

  “She’ll be assisting us in picking some items for you,” Morgan turned to the young woman. “Thanks so much for arranging these. Do you guys still have those polos I looked at last week? Can I get a couple?”

  “Sure,” Hannah shuffled towards the door, blushing as she left. Morgan shook her head knowing without a doubt that a crush on Derek was in full swing. Amazing.

  “So we’re shopping for clothes?”

  “Yes. Your look now is okay,” Morgan pulled a pair of grey pants and a v-neck black shirt from the rack. “But we’re going to need to do better than okay to ensure you’re making the right impression.”

  She handed the clothes to him.

  “You want me to try these on?”

  “No, I want you to make them into sneakers.”

  He reeled a little as he took them to the middle fitting room. “One slap and you think you’re my pimp now, right?”

  Morgan sat down in the couch and waited. “Well, I am telling you what to wear and taking your money. You do the math.”

  Morgan could hear Carrie’s voice in her head, reminding her not to turn into man hater Morgan, but she couldn’t help it. She thought that she could work with Derek without feelings of anger and resentment rising to the surface. Apparently it was going to be more of a struggle than she thought.

  Nonetheless, they managed to get through the fitting session without too much drama. Derek tried close to a dozen outfits and didn’t voice any major complaints until they got to the skinny jeans, which he absolutely refused to even try on. Morgan frowned and pretended to be annoyed though she actually agreed that he was too old and too masculine for that trend. By the time an hour and a half had passed, they had decided on several pieces and designated events to which they would be best worn.

  “There’s actually some nice stuff in here,” Derek placed his selections on the checkout counter.

  Morgan glanced up from her blackberry. “You sound surprised. What were you expecting?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe some sweater vests and plaid pants.”

  Morgan snorted. “As if you would ever even try those on. You wouldn’t even put on the slim fit pants.”

  “If you mean the skinny jeans, heck no,” Derek said. “No self-respecting man should be wearing those. I’m surprised you didn’t try and force me into fitting them though.”

  Morgan slipped her phone into her pocket and turned to Derek. “I know that you have some warped idea in your head about how this image consulting thing works. But you’re wrong. I wouldn’t put you in preppy clothes cause that’s not you. You’re not the guy on the golf course. You’re the guy playing a pick-up game of basketball at the court down the street. You’re not dress shoes and khakis. You’re Tim’s and CK jeans. You’re fine dining over fast food. Headphones instead of earbuds, even though you don’t like hip-hop. And if you can’t sit courtside you’d rather watch the game on TV. You hate celebrity culture, which is why you won’t ask your celebrity friends for an endorsement even though you know they would give it to you. You’re quality over quantity, but you’re never flashy about it. That carries over into everything, including how you dress. I’m just showing you how to do the best version of you. That’s all.”

  She watched Derek stare at her until she began to feel restless. When he finally spoke his voice was low and quiet.

  “How do you know all that about me?”

  She took his gold card from his hand and handed it to the cashier. “Because I do my homework.”

  When the clerk didn’t take the card from Morgan right away, Morgan looked up at her. The woman’s mouth was hanging open as she stared at a screen behind them, then at Derek, then back at the screen.

  Morgan turned around to see what she was looking at and her own mouth fell open. One of those evening entertainment shows was running. She could barely hear the audio but the video alone was worth a thousand words. First there were images of NFL player Ray Rex and beside him images of Chantelle. They quickly switched to a recent image of Chantelle with bruises on her face, next to a video of Chantelle in an elevator with Derek. The video was short and looked like an elevator cam, but it was enough for Morgan to see what was going on. When she saw Chantelle drop to her knees in front of Derek, Morgan dropped Derek’s credit card on the counter and rushed for the exit.

  “Morgan!”

  She heard Derek’s voice echo behind her, but she didn’t stop, didn’t even slow her pace. She had to leave. She had to get out of there before she emptied her stomach onto the perfect floors of the department store. She had thought that she was over it. She had gotten through an entire evening of working with Derek without losing her composure. She had been certain that he couldn’t hurt her anymore. As she rushed down the sidewalk searching through blurry eyes for her car, Morgan realized that she had been wrong.

  Chapter 21

  Derek didn’t know how he got into his car or how he started and managed to maneauver it through New York traffic without an accident. He was surprised that he was even able to make it out of Topman’s when all he could see were the images from the TV. Him in the elevator with Chantelle. Him in her hallway banging on her door and holding it open. Chantelle with bruises on her face. All strategically edited together to make it look like he was the reason for the bruises on her face. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How could Chantelle do something like this? And how could people believe he could do something like this? By the time he had gotten into his car where he had left his phone, he saw that he had twelve missed calls and seventeen text messages. His Facebook feed was full of people calling him a jerk and a woman beater. How had this all happened in a matter of hours?

  Even though it was almost six in the evening, there were cars parked in front of the Solid building. He didn’t notice them, however, until he stepped out of his car and was the target of flashing camera lights.

  “Did you give Chantelle Sax that black eye?”

  “Why did you force yourself into her hotel room?”

  “Did you make her have sex with you in that elevator?”

  “Is it true that you hit Chantelle Sax because she refused to get back together with you?” The last one came from a short Caucasian man with dark rimmed glasses and greasy blond hair who stuck a microphone in his face. Next to him was a man aiming a video camera at him. And behind them were several others holding tape recorders and phones, bustling for a view.

  Derek pushed the microphone away, got back into his car, and attempted to pull away from the building without running anyone over. What in the world was going on? When did anyone become interested in him? He had to get out of there.

  Derek didn’t know where he was going. After escaping the crowd at his office he found himself driving around aimlessly and somehow ended up in Astoria. He didn’t know what he was hoping for when he climbed the stairs to Morgan’s floor. When she opened the door, the look on her face was not exactly it.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but the gaping silence of surprise.

  Morgan was naked.

  Sure she was wearing a Fordham University t-shirt and cut-off jeans shorts, but her face was completely bare. Not a smudge of foundation, not a line of color on her eyes or lips. Just a face open and naked like the day she was born - or rather the day she was burnt, because the scars that were only partially visible the night of the wedding were now completely clear. The right side of her face was perfect. Her skin was smooth as butter. Even without the help of makeup, it was a rich even mahogany brown that most women spent a mint at MAC to achieve. But on the left side, from a breadth below her cheekbone to her jaw, her beautiful skin rippled and stretched into a tight shiny discolored surface.

  He was in awe.

  So much so that he almost forgot why he was there. How had he not noticed it before? The way her left cheek sunk in deeper than the right, the way the left side of her mouth looked puffier and sagged slightly, the tightness of her skin on the left side of her neck. Had it all really been there the whole time? It seemed unreal that the beautiful woman whom he had gotten to know was scarred in such a significant way and he had not even realized it.

  “Take a picture, Derek. It will last longer.”

  Shame washed over him in waves. They were all right. He was a jerk. And here he was, staring at her, being a bigger jerk than he had been the night of the wedding when he made her cry.

  But she wasn’t crying now. No, those eyes held something he had never seen in them before. Something that made him feel smaller than he had ever felt in his entire life.

  “Sorry.” He dropped his eyes and thought about leaving, then remembered why he was there.

  “Why are you here, Derek?”

  “To explain.” He took a deep breath. “And because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

  “Not my problem.”

  She began to close the door on him.

  “Morgan...” He put a hand up to stop the door from closing.

  She flung it back open. “Tell you what. How about you come back when you manage to get that look of disgust out your eyes?”

  This time she succeeded in closing the door on him. He wasn’t going to let her walk away like he had the night of the wedding or even a few hours earlier.

  “Morgan!” He rapped hard on the door, his knuckles aching. “Morgan, please. Morgan, can I just talk to you? Please? Let me explain about what you saw. It’s not what you think.”

  The door flew open. It was not Morgan on the other side.

  “Listen, you need to go or I’m calling the cops.”

  Derek realized the dark skinned woman with the short hair had to be Morgan’s cousin, Joy. This was not the way he had hoped to start meeting her family.

  “I just need to talk to her.”

  “Well, she doesn’t want to talk to you,” Joy frowned. “And quite frankly, I don’t blame her.”

  Derek closed his eyes briefly and let out a deep breath. “I know I don’t deserve any of her time and I know what things look like, but if I could just explain.”

 

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