2 Kierra
2
Kierra
Some people daydreamed about dinner parties. The perfect space with elegant floral arrangements. Gold silverware and plate settings. Classical music playing in the background. Guests dressed to the nines with wine and champagne poured at a ridiculous pace. There was such an elegance to dinner parties with wealthy individuals, yet the one thing that always seemed to be missing was the heart of it all.
My husband, Henry, was a perfectionist. He also happened to be one of the most brilliant minds in Maine, if not the world. But when my husband wasn’t being a super genius, he was busy becoming my greatest heartbreak.
I met Henry Hughes during the hardest chapter of my life.
I had many regrets in life. Choosing Henry as my husband might’ve been among my top three worst decisions. I didn’t love Henry anymore. Most days, I debated if I even liked him. I’d seen his red flags from the beginning, yet I’d chosen to quietly ignore them. A part of me at the time probably thought that was the love I deserved. A part of me believed I was lucky that anyone would want me—scars and all.
That was the problem with falling in love when you were out of love with yourself: even monsters looked appealing then. Some say that during the lowest moments of life a person can come across someone who will bring them their warmest summers or their coldest winters. Henry was my cold front, the chilling punishment during my season of despair.
We weren’t in love; we were imprisoned in a loveless marriage. At least I had been. For the longest time, I’d figured he was my karma for the mistakes of my past.
Sometimes I wondered why I even bothered staying in a marriage as harsh as my own, but then I’d see her face—Ava Hughes. The greatest gift Henry had ever brought into my world. I feared deep down that if I left Henry, he would never let me see her again—and that was always enough to get me to stay.
Our daughter, Ava, was a professional at hiding out in her bedroom to read whenever a party was going on. I wished so deeply that I could hide away with her. With a book in my hand, of course. I’d choose fictional realms with dragons over reality with Henry and his friends any day of the week.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to entertain your guests?” Ava asked as I walked into her bedroom with two slices of three-day-old birthday cake. We had just celebrated her birthday, and I was blown away by the fact that I had a fourteen-year-old.
“I needed a moment of solitude before everyone arrives. Cake?” I offered, plopping down on the edge of her bed.
“Always,” she replied, taking her slice and diving right in. “You know, you could always tell Dad that you don’t like dinner parties,” she stated matter-of-factly. As if going against Henry’s plans was ever an option. If he didn’t get his way, he’d be a nightmare to deal with. I had to pick and choose my battles with him, which resulted in dinner parties and fake smiles at people who I could hardly stand.
“The dinner parties are fun,” I lied.
“Liar,” she replied.
Ava was a professional at reading me like an open book. Some days, I swore she knew me better than my husband did.
“It’s a very important dinner, I guess,” I explained.
“All of Dad’s parties are important,” Ava commented as she shoved a forkful of Funfetti cake into her mouth. “Because he’s important.”
She wasn’t wrong. In addition to being brilliant, Henry was extremely important in his industry. He didn’t think like other people, which was so refreshing when we’d first met. His business, Sweet, was a high-tech company that was taking home technology to a whole new place. It covered everything, and I mean everything. The latest technology used artificial intelligence to learn humans within their home, so it would know exactly when a person wanted a cup of coffee—before the thought even crossed their mind. They were also working on a system that used light to brighten people’s moods in an instant.
While what he’d accomplished was impressive, I was kind of scared of how little control his technology seemed to give people. If artificial intelligence could be used to brighten a person’s mood, it could probably be used for darkening a person’s personality, too. I didn’t like the idea of that, yet Henry simply told me that I wasn’t informed enough to understand what he was doing.
Henry not only spoke to Ava and me about his technology. Often, his work also came home with him. And of course, my home was the laboratory to test everything out. I lived in a fully operating smart house that knew me better than I knew myself.
Though, sometimes I wondered about the coffee system. It felt very “which came first, the chicken or the egg” to me. Did the AI know I craved a coffee, or did I smell the coffee after it was brewed and then I craved it?
Either way, Sweet lived up to its tagline. Let us take care of the small tasks so we can make your life Sweet.
You couldn’t go a week without seeing his name in the headlines. He was basically the next Steve Jobs when it came to innovation. He even went through a black turtleneck and blue jeans era when he started out.
Like I said, Henry Hughes was a brilliant businessman. He was a good father, too, when he wasn’t traveling the world for business meetings. And when it came to his friendships? Top tier. That man was loved by so many that I was somewhat jealous of the version of him that the world received. I was jealous of every being that crossed his path. When my husband spoke to anyone, he spoke as if they were the center of his world. He revolved around them solely. And when I was present in front of others, I’d get flickers of that light. In front of others, I was his everything. I was the love of his life, his sun, his galaxy. Yet when those doors closed, I became his shadow.
It wasn’t always like that. At one point, I thought he really loved me. Cherished me. Yet, those days seemed few and far between. Still, I put on a brave face as if I were happy with him because I cared more about keeping my relationship with Ava as strong as it could be. You see, Ava wasn’t my biological daughter. I met her and Henry when Ava was five years old. She was the brightest light and had been the greatest gift to my life I’d ever received. Though, when Henry and I first went through a rough patch, he told me we could divorce but I’d never see Ava again.
That threat alone was enough to make me stay. A life without Ava was no life at all, to my mind. Even if that meant staying in a loveless marriage. I never complained around Ava about living in Henry’s shadow because I knew how much she loved her father.
To be fair, I often wished I felt the same way about Henry that Ava did. Maybe I would’ve liked him and his dinner parties a lot more.
“How’s the book?” I asked, shifting the conversation. “What page are you on?”
“Two hundred and ninety-five. Oh my gosh, Mom! You won’t believe what Fania does.”
“No spoilers!” I said, swatting her arm. “And how did you surpass me already? Maybe I should skip the dinner party and play catch-up…”
She laughed. “Your introvert ways are showing, Mom.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“It is,” she said. “You haven’t even changed out of your pajamas yet. And people are arriving—”
The doorbell rang.
I glanced at my watch.
“Oh shoot!” I yipped, leaping up from the bed. “I have to go get my dress on.”
“You’re lucky that Dad picks out all your clothes for you,” Ava said. “Otherwise, it would take you years to get ready.”
I kissed her forehead. “I’ll see you after dinner. I’ll have Lena send you up a plate.”
Lena was the chef that we’d used every weekday for the past few months. She was brilliant in the kitchen, and the one thing that wasn’t run by some high-tech program. Though, sometimes Lena seemed a little too perfect. I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a battery pack attached to her spine. Still, I was thankful for Lena during the dinner parties. Most of the time, I snuck into the kitchen to talk to her instead of Henry’s snobby friends.
Lena wasn’t only an amazing chef, but she’d also grown to becoming one of my closest friends. Her bubbly personality made her feel like sunbeams on a chilled evening. My favorite pastime was gossiping to her about how ridiculous the dinner guests always were.
“Can you tell her to add extra spaghetti sauce to my pasta?” Ava asked.
“Will do, but I’m sure she’s already aware.”
Ava Hughes was always an extra-sauce-and-dip girl.
A woman after my own heart.
***
“Where have you been?” Henry whispered as I walked down the steps to the grand dining room. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me in for a gentle kiss to the cheek. He smelled like bourbon and cinnamon. The scent of the cologne wafted from his expensive gray suit. The apple-red dress he’d picked out for me paired perfectly with it. Though I would’ve loved to wear one of my original pieces. I’d spent much of my youth in the fashion industry, yet it had been a long time since I’d made pieces for myself and my husband. Henry said it was too on the nose to wear my own clothing line. Then he followed it up with saying he preferred well-known luxury designers.
What a charmer.
I couldn’t remember the last time I used a sewing machine, let alone sketched a design. I missed that part of me a little.
“I had to get changed into the dress.” I smiled at him, feeling his fingers dig a little too deeply into my side. He was irritated with my late arrival, but he wouldn’t complain in front of an audience. “How do I look?” I asked, pulling away from him.
“Late,” he replied with a cocky smile. He then gestured toward the room. “Go ahead and mingle. Freddrick’s wife, Wendy, was asking about you.”
I glanced around the room and put on a brave face. A robotic machine holding a tray filled with champagne flutes scooted over to Henry and me, pausing right in front of us. “Mrs. Hughes, can I offer you champagne?” the robot asked.
“Thank you, Jacob,” I replied. I chose the champagne flute filled the highest. If I was going to make it through the night, I’d need to find a glass of champagne any chance I could get. I smoothed my hand over my slicked-back ponytail that had taken me way too long to straighten. My hair was normally tightly coiled and set at my shoulders, yet when I straightened it, it swept against my bra line. Mom always said my hair was drenched in our Black heritage, and each tight coil held the love of my ancestors who came before me.
When I was a kid, I couldn’t stand my hair, though the older I grew, the more I learned to love it. It defined me and my personality. When I looked in the mirror, I saw my mother and grandmother staring back at me. I only straightened my hair for the dinner parties because Henry requested it straight. He thought it looked more sophisticated that way. I argued with him once about it, but he never let me win a fight. Somehow, I always ended up being the one to apologize after his clever word-game skills.
Henry caught my hand and reeled me back in for a kiss. “You look remarkably beautiful, Kierra.”
His words dripped with sincerity in a way I didn’t expect. I tilted my head, a bit dazed and confused by the gentleness in his voice. For a split second, the butterflies that used to gather for him when we were younger came back in full swing. His eyes were full of such care that I almost teared up from the sensation they sent throughout my system.
My lips parted slightly, and I hesitated for a moment, wondering if he was speaking to me. “Thank you, Henry,” I replied, completely confused by the private compliment. I’d probably seemed as if I’d just witnessed a ghost. The ghost of my husband’s past when he truly used to love me.
That was until someone behind me cleared their throat and said, “It’s always nice to witness a man who cherishes his wife.”
My pounding heart? It slowed its pace. There had been nothing private about that sweet moment. Shame on me for getting big feelings from something that was nothing more than an act.
“Oh, you made it,” Henry exclaimed, shifting his stare to the person behind me. He then moved in closer to me and placed his hand back around my waist. He began to turn my body around as if I were one of his robots and gestured in front of me. “This is my brilliant wife, Kierra, and Kierra, this is Gabriel Sinclair, the outstanding man I was telling you about earlier.”
Did he say Gabriel Sinclair ?
As my gaze rose to meet the guy in front of me, my heart malfunctioned. My mind turned into a puddle of mush as I stared into his eyes. Eyes that I’d known a little too well once upon a time.
Brown eyes, beautiful dark-brown skin, and a full, thick beard paired with a remarkable smile.
A smile that I also once knew all too well.
There was no way…
Without any thought from me, the glass in my hand slipped through my fingers, shattering instantly as it hit the floor.
Everyone in the room turned to face me. Funny how a once-solid thing could fall apart so quickly. While all eyes were on me, my eyes were still on him. Gabriel Sinclair. The Gabriel Sinclair. My Gabriel Sinclair.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t recall how to breathe. My chest tightened even more as his deep-brown eyes stayed on me. Every thought possible began to swirl through me. We held eye contact for mere seconds, but that was long enough to know he saw me. Yet at the same time, he didn’t see me. He didn’t remember me at all. He stared at me as everyone else had—as if I were nothing more than Henry Hughes’s wife.
“Sorry,” I blurted out to the room filled with fancy people in fancy suits who were all looking at me as if I were the clumsiest person in the world. I hurriedly shook my attention away from Gabriel, bent down, and began trying to gather the broken pieces. Within seconds, I felt a hand wrap around mine.
“It’s fine, leave it,” Henry stated, gripping my arm.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make a commotion,” I said with a shaky voice that mimicked my shaky soul. What was Gabriel doing in this room? What was he doing standing in front of me? What in the world was happening?
“Kierra,” Henry growled through gritted teeth. “You’re embarrassing me. I have Jacob on it. Don’t worry. You should head upstairs and get changed.” Of course, he said it with a smile. Henry always kept a smile around others. Though I knew I’d hear about my clumsiness later that evening after everyone headed off to their own homes.
I looked down at my wet dress and then back toward Gabriel. He had a look of pity packed in his stare, as if he felt embarrassment for me.
Just then, a beautiful woman with red hair walked over and stood extremely close to Gabriel. “Is everything okay?” she asked.
I was going to be sick.
Who was that?
Were they in love?
Did he love her?
Why did I check so quickly to see if they were wearing wedding rings?
They weren’t.
But why, oh why, did I even look when there was a heavy ring resting on my own finger?
What was happening?
“Kierra,” Henry urged as Jacob rolled over and began to vacuum up the mess. “Go change,” he repeated.
I pushed out a smile toward Gabriel and the woman who seemed superglued to his side. “I’m sorry. How embarrassing. I swear I’m not always this clumsy,” I explained.
Gabriel grinned. It was such a comforting smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “I’m probably the clumsiest person in the world. If my head wasn’t attached to my shoulders, I’d probably lose that, too.”
The woman laughed. A little too hard, if you asked me. She threw her head back and poked her chest out as she smacked Gabriel’s chest with her palm. Henry laughed, too, but the tone of his chuckles was more a warning for me to get a move on.
I shook off my nerves the best I could. Which wasn’t saying much. “I’ll be back after I change, and I’ll make a better second impression,” I swore, before hurrying up the stairs to my bedroom.
After reaching my room, I shut the door behind me and held my hand to my stomach. The swirling taking place within me made me hesitate for a second. I swallowed deeply, but before I could finish, I was darting for the bathroom, throwing up the birthday cake I’d shoved into my system not that long ago.
I felt weak and dizzy in that moment.
I fell backward onto the black-and-white-tiled floor and wiped my hand against my mouth.
It was as if my past and present were merging.
Gabriel Ayodele Sinclair.
As I lived and breathed.
Within moments, every single flashback of that man and me came rushing back. Every laugh and tear that we’d shared hit me like a ton of bricks. He looked so different in so many ways, yet very much the same.
He looked so much like his father when we were young. Gabriel’s mother was a beautiful Nigerian woman, and his father was an extremely handsome Frenchman. Gabriel was named after his father, and his middle name, Ayodele, was a Yoruba name that meant “joy has come home.”
Joy has come home.
Gabriel looked like the perfect blend of his parents. His once slim frame had been replaced with quite an impressive build. He looked as if he’d spent the past two decades lifting automobiles for a fun pastime. His hair was longer, too. His midnight hair was shaved on the sides but longer on top and showcased a few of his curls. He wore thick-framed black glasses, and even though he was dressed in a stunning suit, I couldn’t help but notice the neck tattoos that crawled up from his slightly exposed chest. It was clear he hadn’t given up his love for ink since I’d last seen him.
We were only sixteen when I watched him get his first tattoo in the creepy basement of a friend’s house. The stupid things kids did in their youth. I wondered if he still had the tattoos he’d gotten for me, or if he knew the meaning behind them.
He wore gold necklaces, one with a cross and another with an eagle symbol. The same necklaces that he wore when we were younger. They were his father’s and he began wearing them after Mr. Sinclair passed away.
Gabriel was dressed in black from head to toe, but his eyes held so much light. A light I used to be so desperately in love with. A light that saved me time and time again. Still, those eyes hadn’t held even a moment of recollection when they looked at me. It was as if to him I were nothing more than the wife of Henry Hughes.
Why did that make me feel so ashamed?
I unzipped the back of my dress and stepped out of it, still feeling lightheaded. After quickly brushing my teeth, I headed over to my closet to find something else to slip into. I grabbed a navy-blue fitted gown and switched into a pair of cream heels.
After touching up a little bit with makeup, I stared at myself in the mirror. “Just act normal, Kierra,” I told myself with a slight headshake. “Don’t be weird.”
I said those words even though I knew the situation was going to be uncomfortable for me no matter what, because once I returned downstairs, I’d be placed in front of my husband and the first man I’d ever loved.
A first love who didn’t even remember my name.