Cherry Lane, page 16
“He didn’t come to you for money?” David asked.
“He’d called asking me to meet him at a particular place, but when I got there he was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, I was going through my own battle with my parents because they’d arranged for me to marry an older wealthy widower once I graduated college. I’d met him a few times, and just his looking at me made my skin crawl. When Grandma Arlene found out what her daughter-in-law had planned she took me aside and asked me what I wanted. I told her I wanted to be a lawyer. She encouraged me to take the LSAT and to apply to law schools on either the East or West Coast. That way I would be far enough away from my overbearing, controlling mother’s influence. The day I got the acceptance letter from NYU Grandma Arlene gave me her life’s savings, which included the money she’d received from her husband’s death benefit. It was the first time in my life I had to pinch pennies. The money wasn’t enough for tuition and books, so I applied for student loans and waited tables on the weekends. I made a lot in tips whenever I waited on a table of men.” She blushed. “I’d learned a little subtle flirting translated into generous tips.
“When I told my parents I was leaving to move to New York to attend law school, all hell broke loose. My mother went into hysterics and had to be sedated, while my father lectured me about being ungrateful and said that my mother only wanted the best for me. I told him she wasn’t thinking of my happiness and that arranged marriages were asinine and archaic. Meanwhile, my brother was in and out of rehab, and the last time I saw him he told me he’d met a woman and was moving in with her. Unfortunately he couldn’t stay clean and she put him out. He called me to let me know he was living in a men’s shelter and that our grandmother was sending him money from her Social Security check so he could get his own apartment.” Devon paused, her eyes filling with tears when she thought about the demons that had held her brother in their savage grip so he couldn’t stay clean.
“Why didn’t he go back home?” David whispered in her hair.
“When I asked him that, he said he couldn’t be what our mother wanted him to be, so he preferred living on the street to living in a Lincoln Park mansion with servants waiting on him hand and foot. Her plan was for him to become a doctor like her father.” Devon told David that her mother’s family once owned the largest meat-packaging plant in Chicago in the 1920s, then went into trucking after the stockyards closed.
“So she had her children’s lives planned out for them.”
“That’s because her mother had planned her life for her. I went to see my folks earlier this month to tell them they were going to become grandparents and my mother slammed the door in my face because no Gilmore woman had ever had a child out of wedlock.”
“That’s crazy,” David spat out. “Doesn’t she realize women can choose to marry or not marry?”
“Not according to Monique Gilmore-Collins. Her own mother had an affair with the chauffeur’s son, who at the time was in medical school, and once her parents discovered she was carrying his baby, they arranged for them to be married. It was better she marry a young black doctor than to embarrass them when they had to explain why their unmarried daughter had a mixed-race baby.”
“People and their stupid shit,” David said under his breath. “What happened with your brother?”
Devon bit down hard on her lower lip until she felt it pulsing. Talking about her brother being locked away was never easy. “He’s in prison serving a fifteen-year sentence for bank robbery. Instead of giving up, he held a customer and her child hostage before surrendering. I offered to defend him, but he opted for a public defender. He refuses to see visitors, won’t take my calls, and all of my letters have been returned. It’s as if he’s cut himself off from everyone.”
Pulling back, David stared at her. “How long has he been in?”
“Eight years. I keep telling myself prison is the best place for him because at least he can’t abuse drugs while incarcerated. I’m in touch with the warden at the prison, who tells me that he’s a model prisoner and doesn’t see a problem when it comes time for him to be paroled. Ray got his high school diploma and is now taking college courses, so I suppose something good came out of his going to prison.”
“Do you think he’ll contact you once he’s paroled?”
David was asking her a question she’d asked herself over and over. “I don’t know. But I told the warden to contact me when it comes time for his release, because I want him to stay with me until he decides what he wants to do.”
“From what you’ve told me about the house on Cherry Lane, you’ll have more than enough room to put him up. But if he feels he needs to be in a city environment, then he can always stay here.”
David’s suggestion shocked Devon and she stared at him, virtually tongue-tied for a full minute. “Why would you offer him your home?”
“If he’s going to become my brother-in-law, then why shouldn’t I open our home to him?”
She put up a hand. “Wait a minute, David. You’re talking about Ray becoming your brother-in-law when I haven’t said I’m going to marry you.”
His eyebrows lifted questioningly. “I thought we decided that we’re getting married.”
Devon shook her head. “We can’t decide on anything until we talk about it.”
David smiled, arms outstretched. “You have the floor, Counselor.”
Her gaze lingering on his cleft chin, Devon carefully formed her thoughts. She didn’t want to start a new life with a man with unanswered questions. “I’d like you to answer a few questions for me.” He nodded. “Don’t you believe a man and woman should be in love if they’re going to marry each other? And why me? Why do you want to marry a stranger when you dated a woman exclusively for five years?”
“Maybe it’s because I didn’t know what I wanted until I met you.” David gave her a long, penetrating stare. “And I do believe in love. But I hope you’ll come to love me as much as I want to love you.”
“What’s stopping you from loving me?”
“You, Devon. You put up barriers to protect yourself, but you should ask yourself from what. And then you talk about us meeting a week ago. Would it make a difference if we dated a year or two before deciding to tie the knot?”
She paused as she chewed the inside of her lower lip. “I don’t know.”
“How long did you date your ex?”
Devon ran her hands over her head in a nervous gesture. “We met in law school and became friends. He was in his last year and I was a first-year student. He graduated and moved back to Virginia. Then we ran into each other a little more than a year ago and after a month we became lovers.”
“Had he moved to New York?”
“No.”
“How often did you see each other?” David asked, continuing with his questioning.
“Maybe once or twice a month.”
“Well, I’ll be dammed,” he whispered. “You see this dude twice and sleep with him for the first time, meanwhile we’ve seen each other more than that in one week. And not once have I attempted to make love to you or will I make love to you until we’re married. What I want to do is court you until the day you become Devon Sullivan or Mrs. David Sullivan, and hopefully that will be enough time for us to get to know each other better and possibly fall in love.”
Devon’s forehead creased with worry. “I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you want to marry woman who happens to be pregnant with another man’s child.”
A frown settled into his features. “Why are you bringing up something I’ve already accepted? I told you I’m willing to take care of you and the baby, but you haven’t told me what you want from me.”
For the very first time in a very long time Devon found herself at a loss for words. “It’s not about what I want, but what I need.”
“And what do you need?”
“Stability for me and the baby. I need to give my child what I didn’t have, and that is a loving home. I don’t want him or her locked away in a boarding school only to come home on holidays or to a house where the atmosphere is as cold as a frigid Chicago winter night. You want me to marry you and I’ll accept your proposal on one condition.”
He stared at the silky robe she’d thrown over a chair in the corner, and when his eyes swung back to her they were burning with a tenderness that made her heart turn over. “What is it you want from me?”
“I want your word that you’ll promise to help me raise our son or daughter to believe we wanted them rather than needed them because society expects us to have children.”
David smothered an audible sigh. What Devon was asking wasn’t the impossible. If he was falling in love with her, then he knew he would love anything that was a part of her. Burying his face against the column of her silken neck, he said, “I promise on the graves of my Gullah ancestors that I will protect you, our home, and our children.” His head popped up and he stared lovingly at her before capturing her mouth in an explosive kiss. The kiss ended quickly because he found himself becoming aroused. Shifting slightly, he put some space between them.
There was a hint of a smile curving the corners of her mouth. “I think you’re getting ahead of yourself when you talk about having more children.”
He winked at her. “We can’t have just one—unless you’re carrying twins.”
“I doubt it.”
“But what if you are?”
Light from the bedside lamps reflected off the green glints in her luminous eyes. “Then you can claim two dependents instead of one.”
Throwing back his head, David laughed loudly. “Spoken like a true financial planner.” He sobered. “Now that we’ve discussed it, do you think you can give me your answer now?” An angelic expression softened her features and he knew her answer even if she were rendered mute at that moment.
“Yes, David. I will marry you.”
“Thank you.” The two words were filled with an emotion so powerful that David felt as if he was strapped into one of the world’s fastest roller coasters, racing headlong along tracks with continuous loops.
Devon was right about him dating another woman for a long time, but proposing marriage to Devon when they’d met a week before. He hadn’t realized it at the time, but he’d been marking time with Petra until he met Devon. There were other women after Petra, but none held his interest long enough to form a relationship. And he never could’ve imagined what Devon had to go through as a child living in a suffocating environment where her very life had been planned out for her from the moment she drew breath. Thanks to her grandmother, she’d escaped, but her brother hadn’t been so lucky. David knew she’d sacrificed a lot not having her parents in her life, and although he knew he wouldn’t be able to right the wrongs of the past, he wanted to make certain not to repeat those mistakes.
She was a thirty-six-year-old woman who’d taken care of herself and could continue to take care of herself and her child, but there were times when the most self-reliant, independent woman needed a man in her life to protect her and her children. He’d offered to marry her, and therefore he would become her life’s partner and protector.
“When do you want to marry?”
Her query broke into David’s thoughts. Sitting up, he pointed to her cell phone on the bedside table. “Please give me your cell.” She handed it to him and he tapped the icon for the calendar. “What about May first? That’s a Saturday.”
Devon peered closely at the phone. “That gives us about five weeks.” She met his eyes. “Do you think we’ll close on the house before we get married?”
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll live here until it’s furnished and decorated the way you want.”
“What are you going to do with this house?” Devon asked.
“We’ll keep it. We can live in the house in the Creek during the week and come here on weekends or whenever we decide to entertain.”
Devon’s smile reached her eyes. “I like the idea of having a city and a country home.”
David kissed her forehead. “There you go. You have to decide whether you want to get married in a church or have a judge marry us.”
Unconsciously her brow furrowed. “It really doesn’t matter. It’s not as if I’m going to invite my relatives.”
Cradling her face between his hands, David rested his forehead on hers. “Why don’t you try calling your parents and offer the olive branch. I’m certain they’ll want to see their only daughter married.”
“No!”
“Why not, Dee?”
“Please don’t push it, David. I’m not ready to forgive my mother for destroying my brother’s life.”
“You talk about your mother. What about your father? Didn’t he have a say in how you were treated?”
Devon clamped her jaw tight and stared straight ahead. It was the first time David had witnessed her stubborn side. “Are you familiar with the expression petticoat man?”
“Quite,” David confirmed. “Petticoat, frock tail, or panty man. I believe they’re all labels for a wimp.”
“Well, Daddy is the ultimate petticoat man, and my grandmother, before she passed away, blamed herself for making him so weak. She miscarried three babies before she had him, and to say she spoiled him would be an understatement. I never saw my father challenge my mother about anything. I’d sit there praying he would say something, but it never happened. The one time I asked him why he let my mother get away with browbeating her children, his response was that he wanted peace in his house, not constant turmoil. Well, there was turmoil and either Daddy chose to ignore it or he was in denial.” She offered him a wry smile. “Now you know all the sordid details about my past.”
“A past we will not dredge up again.” David would’ve preferred Devon contact her parents once more, yet decided not to dwell on it. There would be time after she had the baby to bring it up again, because he couldn’t imagine her parents not being excited about becoming grandparents for the first time. He went completely still when he heard a familiar sound. “Was that your stomach rumbling?”
Devon pressed her palms to her belly. “Guilty as charged.”
“Do you want something to eat?” He’d made her chicken saltimbocca, brushing the inside of a split ciabatta roll and filling it with pesto, sliced grilled chicken, fontina, prosciutto, and chopped fresh sage, which he cooked in a panini press until the sandwich was golden and crisp; he’d also put together a salad of fresh spinach, sliced hard-boiled egg, mushrooms, and julienne pickled beets tossed with a homemade herb dressing.
“I just ate less than two hours ago.”
He rested a hand on her belly over the blanket. “I thought pregnant women eat all the time.”
She placed her hand over his. “Not this pregnant woman. I eat only when I feel hungry, and I usually prefer five small meals to three big meals.”
David pressed his mouth to her bare shoulder. “How much weight have you gained?”
“At my last visit I’d gained four pounds.”
“That’s not much.”
Devon smiled. “It’s enough. And please don’t look at me like that,” she said when he squinted at her. “Believe me, I’m not dieting.”
“How much weight has your doctor recommended you gain?”
“At least twenty.”
“You’re how far along?”
“I’m close to the end of my first trimester. And if I gain at least two pounds each month, then I’ll reach my goal of twenty pounds. I have to make an appointment to see a local ob-gyn because I won’t get back to New York in time to keep the next one there.” Devon told David she’d gotten the names of doctors from the nurse at Dr. Monroe’s office and planned to call one on Monday.
“Is it too early to know what you’re having?”
She nodded.
“Do you want to know beforehand?”
“Yes. Only because it’s going to take a while for me to come up with a name for a boy or a girl.”
“Why don’t you play it safe and come up with a name for either sex, like Meredith, Morgan, Sydney, or even Devon.”
Shifting on her side, she gave him a long stare. “One Devon in this family is enough.”
“So, you’re warming to the idea that we’ll become a family?” David asked, smiling.
She reached for his hand, threading their fingers together. “I love the idea that we’ll be a family.” Her fingers tightened on his. “Speaking of family, what will your mother think about you marrying a woman you just met?”
Suddenly his face went grim. “What my mother thinks has nothing to do with us being together. But I’m willing to bet that when she hears you’re expecting a baby, she’ll act a little silly because she’s been beating her gums about wanting grandchildren for so long that Leticia and I have learned to tune her out.”
A momentary look of discomfort settled into Devon’s features. “I don’t like being duplicitous. Pretending this baby is yours when it isn’t.”
A muscle in David’s jaw flicked angrily as he glared at her. “Would you say that if we adopted a child together?”
“No. Legally we’d be the child’s mother and father.”
He counted slowly to ten as he formed his words carefully. David didn’t want to say something that would make him come off like her mother—wanting to control her and dictate every phase of her life. He wanted to replace the last man in her life who’d abandoned her when she needed him most, and hopefully get her to trust again. He extracted his hand from hers, placing it over her belly.
“From this point on and going forward I want you to think of this child in your womb as mine. We won’t be able to stop folks from talking or counting on their fingers when our son or daughter is born, but that won’t matter because it will be a Sullivan.”
