Back to love, p.2
Back to Love, page 2
“You keep pressing those buttons so hard, you’re gonna have to buy Mama a new microwave,” Dani said as she came into the kitchen.
Cursing, Jorie yanked her hand away from the oven and sighed. The bowl of macaroni and cheese she’d put inside to warm would certainly burn to a crisp if she let the 44:44 time she’d inadvertently pushed stand. Pressing the button to clear that time, she punched in a more realistic setting and stepped away from the machine to take a seat at her mother’s kitchen table.
“Why’re you here on a weeknight, anyway? And why aren’t you eating at your own place?”
“Why do you have so many questions?”
“Ooh, wait a minute. Did we have a bad day?” Dani’s eyes widened in that way that said I-know-you-ain’t-lost-your-everlasting-mind, and Jorie sat back in her chair with a huff. Her sister’s deadly looks didn’t serve half as much power over her as they had when they were younger.
“No. I didn’t have a bad day. I had a wonderful day. Just wonderful.” She heard the testiness in her tone and clamped her lips shut.
Dani continued moving about the kitchen, going to the refrigerator to take out a half-full bottle of soda and then across the room to the counter near the pantry, where she opened the cookie jar and took out three Oreos. Her sister took a seat across the table from her and bit into one of the cookies. Dani didn’t speak another word, just kept chewing and staring at Jorie knowingly.
The microwave buzzed, and Jorie jumped up out of the chair, glad that something broke the stare-down she and Dani were having. She gingerly removed the hot bowl from the microwave, then snatched a napkin to put between it and the palm of her hand. Returning to her seat, she set the bowl on the table and picked up the fork she’d gotten earlier. She didn’t look at Dani again, but instead pulled out her phone and pretended to scroll through Facebook while waiting for her food to cool down a bit.
Dani was a loud chewer, so each crunch echoed throughout the otherwise quiet kitchen. She unscrewed the top from her bottle and took a gulp of soda; all of that was loud as hell too, but Jorie refused to glance at her.
“Heard Dom’s back in town,” Dani said with a hint of laughter in her tone.
Jorie looked up. “You’re not funny.” She grabbed the fork and stuck it into the bowl, jabbing at a chunk of mac n’ cheese before bringing it to her mouth. The roof of her mouth stung with the heat of the food but she refused to react, tenderly chewing instead.
“And you’re not foolin’ nobody, sitting there acting like you don’t care that he’s back. You know he’s back, and that’s why you’re all bent out of shape.”
“Who told you he’s back?” She wanted to know, because why hadn’t that same person given her a head’s up? She would’ve appreciated that instead of being shocked and caught off guard at her job earlier today.
Dani had stuffed another cookie into her mouth; it pressed against her jaw as she chew-talked. “Come on now, you know I gets all the gossip down at the shop. Ms. Janet came in and said she saw him at the cemetery Sunday afternoon.”
“Visiting his grandmother’s grave,” Jorie said, sitting back in the chair.
“Yup. Dom loved himself some Ms. Martha. If she hadn’t died in his senior year, I bet he would’ve never left town.”
“I don’t care why he left town.” She knew she had to keep telling herself that. There was a part of her that had never gotten over the hurt of Dom leaving, and that part Jorie needed to keep firmly buried for the rest of her natural life.
“Liar.”
She eased another forkful of food into her mouth. “You can’t tell me how I feel.”
“I can and I just did.” Dani finished off her drink and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Don’t forget I was there when he left. I let you cry all those tears on my pillow after you came running in the house and collapsed on my bed. I know how hard it was for you to accept that he was gone and he wasn’t coming back.”
Four years later, Dani was also the maid of honor at Jorie’s wedding when she’d married Garland two weeks after graduating from college. Her sister was her best friend—there was no doubt about that. She knew everything Jorie had been through with both men and how hard Jorie had worked to get her life in order without having some guy in the background toying with her emotions.
“That was a long time ago.” She tried to eat some more, but the food suddenly felt cold in her mouth and her stomach churned as she swallowed. “I need to focus on this job right now. It’s going to give my company the exposure it needs to take us to the next level.”
Dani nodded. “I hear you, and you know I know how important this is for you. Staying focused is key.”
Jorie huffed. “That’s easier said than done, considering Dom’s the contractor working with me on the house.”
“What? How’d that happen?”
“My usual guy had to bail because his insurance company was acting a fool about some claim that came in against him. He couldn’t work on any other projects until the coverage for him and his staff was renewed. Macon said he knew somebody who could help. He really vouched for this company, so I just went with it. I reached out, and they said they were available. The next thing I know, Dom’s standing three feet away from me looking sexy as hell in jeans and work boots, and I’m forced to either work with him or quit the show.”
“Which you are definitely not going to do.” Dani’s perfectly filled-in brows arched as she continued to stare at Jorie. “You’re gonna do what you’re good at for all those viewers on that cable channel and your phone’s gonna start blowin’ up the day after you win that challenge. That’s the only place your mind needs to be right now.”
“You’re right.” Jorie nodded. “You’re absolutely right.”
Dani ate her final cookie. Jorie didn’t chance another bite of her food, but she did lift the glass of water she’d poured earlier to her mouth to take a long drink.
“So he still looks good, huh?” Dani asked after another few moments.
Jorie rolled her eyes and drank from the glass again. “Better than good, the bastard.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Dom groaned as his booted feet splashed through a half foot of water in the basement of his house. The curses that followed echoed throughout the lower level, and he dragged his hands down his face. “What next?”
The minute those words were out, he knew they were a mistake. He’d never been a superstitious person, yet the saying when it rains, it pours immediately came to mind as he yanked his ringing phone from his back pocket and saw who was calling. Gritting his teeth, he hit the button to answer the call and took a deep breath before saying, “Hey, Rasheda. What’s up?”
“I thought you said you were coming by today? Don’t start promising him shit and then you don’t deliver. What I’m not going to allow you to do is drop into his life whenever you feel like it. I thought you understood that when you showed up on my doorstep three weeks ago.”
Actually, this part of his life had started nine years prior; during one of his many trips to his favorite city—Las Vegas—where Dom had run into a familiar face from his hometown. It’d felt good kickin’ it at the casino, by the pool and eventually in the king-size bed of his hotel room. The result of that trip was his son, Aiden, and a tumultuous relationship with Aiden’s mother, Rasheda Kinley.
“It’s barely six o’clock, and I said I’d stop by before his bedtime to help him with his homework and grab some dinner.” The words came in a strained tone, but dammit, he was trying. Rasheda’s surly attitude didn’t make it easy. “I’ll be there in half an hour. I just gotta take care of something here at the house first.”
“He’s hungry now, Dom. Everything can’t be on your time. His well-being has to be a priority. But I understand if you can’t make that happen.”
“Stop.” His fingers clenched the phone. “I’m gonna make a couple calls and then I’ll be on my way. Bye, Rasheda.” Disconnecting the call after saying “bye” didn’t count as hanging up on a person, even though most of the time he really did want to hang up on Rasheda. There’d actually been moments when he’d wanted to slam the phone down hard enough that she’d somehow feel the impact via a blast to her eardrum. Since that was obviously not possible, he settled for cursing again.
To be fair, Rasheda had cause to hate him. In the past nine years, he hadn’t been a model father. Hell, he hadn’t even been a good father and, at the moment, he wasn’t in the mood to blame that situation on his own problematic upbringing. Instead, he did as he said he would and made a call.
“Yeah, Stan, this is Dom. Look, that problem with the pipes in my basement we talked about a few days ago took a turn for the worse. Any chance you can get a crew over here ASAP?”
He’d never wanted to hear a positive response more than he did in that moment and if he were planning to stick around, he probably would’ve given Stan a big hug on top of the bonus he was gonna add to the plumber’s fee for an emergency visit. But Stan was another longtime friend, so Dom had no concerns about leaving the key to the house under the mat on the front porch so he could get in. He did need to get to Rasheda’s before she took Aiden out to dinner herself and used that as another nail in his coffin at their upcoming custody hearing.
After cutting off the water in the house and changing into a new pair of jeans, he put on tennis shoes this time and was headed back to his truck five minutes shy of the time he’d quoted to Rasheda. She didn’t live in the old neighborhood anymore. After receiving her master’s degree in education and becoming a middle school principal, she’d moved into a townhouse development on the edge of town, which was about a twenty-minute drive from his house. He made it there in ten minutes and hopped out of his truck to run up the driveway. At the front door, he rang the bell and waited for her to answer.
Aiden opened the door.
“Hey, buddy,” Dom said after readjusting his expression. He’d been prepared to have words with Rasheda again, not come face-to-face with the child who was the spitting image of him as a young boy. “You ready for me to go over your homework?”
Aiden drew his thick eyebrows together and frowned. “I finished my homework at the rec center. Coach Ricky checked it for me.”
In other words, Aiden didn’t need him. That was a tough pill to swallow, but Dom knew he deserved the rebuff. “Okay, that’s cool. I’d still like to take a look, just to get an idea of what you’re working on in school. Then we can go out to eat. What’re you in the mood for?”
His son was tall for his age; at least Dom thought so as the top of Aiden’s head came to Dom’s chest. They shared the same dark, pensive eyes and full lips, but where Dom had been a thicker build, Aiden was a little on the long and lanky side, which made Dom wonder if he was playing basketball. “We got leftover spaghetti in the fridge, and Mom said I can play my game until it’s time for bed.” The frown on Aiden’s face remained in place and he folded his arms over his chest as a way of telling Dom he wasn’t going anywhere with him.
“I’d really like to take you out to dinner, Aiden. We can go to Dave & Buster’s, play games and grab dinner. You know, spend some father-son time together.” Something Dom never had in his life. Frank Hughes hadn’t been there for Dom, and Augusta Hughes hadn’t been there for Frank. The Hughes Deadbeat Dad curse was real.
“Why?”
The single word pierced Dom’s heart, and he took a slow breath in an effort to keep the pain at bay. “Because I’m your father and I haven’t spent enough time with you. That’s my bad, and I’m ready to make things better between us.”
“Then stop being late,” Rasheda said as she appeared from behind the door.
She was still a very attractive woman—if he ignored the scowl she wore more often than not and the abrasive tone of her voice. In the history of their weekend in Vegas, the call from Rasheda seven weeks later to tell him she was pregnant and Dom’s staggered appearances thereafter, he accepted that some of the discord between them was his fault. He just hadn’t wanted to be with Rasheda in the way she’d needed him to be. Sure, he’d sent her money from the time he’d found out she was pregnant until a few weeks ago, when he’d delivered last month’s child support check to her in person, but that wasn’t enough. Not for Rasheda and, unfortunately, not for Aiden, either.
“I had a plumbing issue at my house—otherwise I would’ve been here earlier. But I’m here now.” And while he thought that should be enough, Dom understood the importance of building trust between him and Aiden.
Rasheda frowned. She had a hand propped on her hip, a black skirt fit tight to her thighs and down just past her knees. Her blouse was green, a little sheer on the sleeves, and she wore fuzzy black slippers in place of the high heels he figured she’d worn to work today. Aiden had her curly dark-brown hair that he wore in cornrows that hung a couple of inches too long in Dom’s estimation.
“I know you like double cheeseburgers with lots of ketchup,” Dom said to his son. “You wanna grab a jacket in case it gets chilly later?” Stay focused was the mantra he’d adopted hours after his thirty-eighth birthday two months ago.
That was the moment he’d decided it was time to get his shit together and be the man he’d never been groomed to be.
Aiden looked from Dom to Rasheda and then back to Dom again. He shrugged and took the first step forward. “I don’t need a jacket.” He pushed past Dom and continued down the driveway, heading for Dom’s truck.
“Have him back by nine,” Rasheda said.
“I will,” he told her. “And thanks. You know, for giving me this chance.”
“Oh, don’t get it twisted. I’m only doing this because the judge said I had to let you see him. But I know you, Dom. This won’t last long. You love your freedom and you’ve made that perfectly clear. You won’t stick with this parenting thing and when the judge sees that, he’ll grant me full custody of my son.”
She loved putting emphasis on that word. Had been saying it since the moment he’d told her he wasn’t moving back to Newton when she’d announced she was pregnant. It was nothing new that she considered Aiden one hundred percent hers but still cashed every check he sent her for child support. Shaking his head because he wasn’t in the mood to rehash the past with Rasheda tonight, or ever again for that matter, Dom walked away.
Moments later he climbed into his truck and snapped his seatbelt in place, thinking that he hadn’t considered it’d be this hard to come home. Dealing with Rasheda and Aiden was one thing, but now he was working with Jorie, and the renovation expenses to his grandmother’s house were adding up too. Every emotionally stressful aspect of his past was taunting him, and he hadn’t even been back for a full month yet.
Glancing over at his son, Dom prayed things would get better. They had to, or else he didn’t know how he’d go on.
Chapter 3
Two cameramen moved throughout the house, pulling thick black cords behind them while setting up cameras and other equipment Jorie wasn’t familiar with. One tech and cameraman would follow Dom throughout the show, and another would be assigned to her. The producer would be on set every day, giving them cues and reminding them what shots the show needed to get in each day. The real work on the house would have to get done around the six hours a day they were contracted to be on camera.
Jorie had met the producer, Safiya, a tall, slim woman who wore her waist-length locks in a messy bun today, a couple of weeks ago when she’d first auditioned for the show. This morning, they stood face-to-face for the first time since last week when Jorie had introduced her team to Safiya and her crew.
“We’ll begin shooting the demo work today,” Safiya said while staring down at the tablet she always carried. “The kitchen first and then, what…the roof? I have notes here that Dom thinks there might be problems with the roof.”
This was the first Jorie had heard about roof problems. “What? Is that really an issue, or just one of the dramatic effects you said we might need?” For Jorie, this show was about free advertising and exposure for her design company. She had no idea what Dom stood to gain from working on this project. But for Safiya and the television station, Jorie knew the bottom line was ratings.
“No, Jessi said she talked to Dom at length on Friday, and this is the info she got from him. So it’s first up on the things we’ll deal with today, besides anything else that comes up when you start tearing down the walls in the kitchen.”
Which could be any variety of issues, so Jorie wasn’t sure why Dom hadn’t given her a heads up about the very real and expensive possibility of roofing issues as well. “Right. That’s fine. Excuse me for a second.” She left Safiya to find her contractor.
She’d seen Dom just one more time after their bump-in last week. With two other projects going simultaneously, she’d had to check in on those, and Dom had assured her via text message that he’d be at the property every day, assessing the safety issues before the network crew was slated to arrive in the mornings.
Music blared throughout the house from a radio and speakers somebody had brought in and hooked up. Earlier old-school hip hop had been playing—Public Enemy, LL Cool J and the like—now, some blend of pop and R&B was on in a song she didn’t recognize, but felt it might’ve been too loud. Or perhaps there was another reason her temples throbbed as she walked from one room to the next, searching for the man she’d thought she’d never see again.
He was actually one of two men Jorie never wanted to see again, but damn if she was gonna think about either one of them in those terms right now. In fact, she wished she didn’t have to deal with her ex-boyfriend or her ex-husband for the next lifetime. Turning into the upstairs bathroom and colliding with a broad, hard chest was just another wake-up call.
“Hey there,” Dom said after she yelped and jumped back.
“Don’t ‘hey there’ me,” she snapped. “Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with the roof? This is my project, my budget that’s going to be affected, so I should’ve been the first to know about something of this magnitude. Or were you just trying to work it so you’d get most of the camera time with your made-up problems?”
