Chapter 4
I looked at him like he had just lost his damn mind. There was no way I heard him right.
"What did you just say?"
That familiar dimple appeared as he flashed me a smile, his eyes never leaving mine. " I asked you to marry me."
"Nope. Not happening," I shot back without missing a beat. "But thanks for the offer."
Mark's smile faded, clearly not expecting that response. "Can you think about it before shutting me down like that?"
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. If only Mark knew how many nights I spent dreaming about becoming Mrs. Saunders, replaying this exact moment in my head. But now, hearing those words felt empty. "There's nothing to think about, Mark. The answer's gonna stay the same."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes searching mine like he was trying to find a way in. "Essence, be reasonable."
"I am being reasonable," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite my heart flipping. "But tell me this—when exactly did you come up with this brilliant idea? Before or after you found out about Tyler?"
He shrugged like it didn't matter. "Does it make a difference?"
"It makes all the difference in the world," I shot back, folding my arms across my chest. "You're asking me out of some sense of obligation, and I'm not about to say yes to a pity proposal."
"Who said anything about pity? Maybe I genuinely want this," he said, sounding defensive.
I rolled my eyes, not buying it for a second. "Come on, Mark. Would you be here now if Tyler wasn't in the picture?"
"I've been back in town for a day, and most of that time has been spent with you and Tyler. What does that tell you?"
"That you're dodging the question," I countered, my voice softening. "Look, I get that you want to do right by your son, and I respect that. But marrying me just because we have a child isn't the answer. Marriage is hard enough without starting off on shaky ground."
"I can be a good father," he said, his voice gentle and sincere.
"I can see that," I replied, surprised at how calm I felt saying it, even though my stomach was tied in knots. "And you don't need a ring on my finger to do that."
"You shouldn't have to do this alone," he pressed, his tone growing more insistent.
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. "Oh, so now you're swooping in to save the day? Do I look like some damsel in distress to you?"
"No, you look like the mother of my child, and our son deserves to have both his parents together. I want him to have my last name."
"He already has a name: Tyler Dane Monroe, and it suits him just fine," I replied firmly. "However, changing his last name to Saunders is open for discussion."
Mark ran a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. "Why are you being so damn stubborn?"
"This isn't nineteen-fifty, Mark. I don't have to marry you just because we have a kid together."
He reached out and gently lifted my chin, forcing me to look directly into his eyes. "Is marrying me really that unthinkable?"
"Yes," I whispered before I could stop myself. I couldn't marry a man who didn't truly love me. I wasn't about to sign up for a lifetime of wondering if he was with me out of love or just duty.
Mark let his hand drop, exhaling slowly. "You know, you're probably the most complicated woman I've ever met."
"Trust me, the feeling's mutual," I replied, giving him a small, sad smile.
A brief silence settled between us before he spoke again, his voice softer. "Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead."
"Do you love me?" The question hung heavy in the air between us.
I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. "I got over you a long time ago."
A spark lit up in his eyes. "If you loved me once, who's to say you can't love me again?"
I shook my head, trying to ignore the tiny voice inside me that wanted to believe him. "It's not that simple."
"Why not?" he pressed.
"Because I need more than just words. I need to know that you're all in, not just here out of some sense of responsibility or guilt."
He reached for my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "Essence, you've been on my mind for two years. Letting you go was the biggest mistake I ever made."
I looked down at our intertwined fingers, feeling the walls around my heart crack just a little. "Words are easy, Mark."
“I’m back,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if. I want to build something real with you—with us. Tyler deserves that, and so do we.”
Mark’s grip on my hand tightened, and when I looked up, I saw the raw determination in his eyes. “Essence, I want to be with you because I want you.”
Oh no, not again. I could feel his breath on my lips. Could already taste him.
Before Mark could brush his lips across mine, my cell phone rang, slicing through the tension in the room. Glad for the distraction, I bolted off the sofa and headed for the kitchen, where I’d left my phone on the counter.
“Hello,” I answered, my voice rough and shaky from my emotions. I quickly cleared my throat, trying to sound more composed.
“Essence.” Malcolm’s voice sent a jolt through me, my heart racing with guilt and unease.
“Hi, Malcolm.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mark had followed me into the kitchen. His eyes were locked on me, narrowing with suspicion.
“You busy?” Malcolm’s voice asked, the casualness of his tone utterly oblivious to the storm brewing in my life.
“Uh… actually, I am.” I turned my back to Mark, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Can I call you back later?”
“Sure, sweetheart. Just hit me up when you’re free.”
I told him I would and quickly ended the call, fully aware of the heat of Mark’s gaze burning into my back.
“Who was that?” Mark’s voice was tight, demanding.
I turned to face him, meeting his intense stare head-on. “A friend,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
“What kind of friend?” His nostrils flared, his voice sharp, laced with an edge that sent a shiver down my spine.
I could hear the jealousy creeping into his voice. I squared my shoulders and shot him a glare. “The none-of-your-business kind of friend.”
He shook his head slowly, disbelief and something else—something darker—flashing across his face. “I can’t believe you’re dating.”
“Why shouldn’t I be?” I challenged, my chin lifting in defiance.
His eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. “I can think of one reason—Tyler.”
The way he said it wasn’t just jealousy. It was possessive, like he thought he had some claim over me. But Mark didn’t realize how much more dangerous he was to me than Malcolm could ever be. Malcolm was a distraction, but Mark? Mark was the man who had the power to undo me.
I turned away, trying to ignore him, and grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. But before I could step away, Mark was right there, instantly closing the gap between us.
His hands found my shoulders, his thumbs brushing against the bare skin of my collarbones, sending a zing of electricity shooting through me. He leaned in closer, his breath warm on my neck as he kissed the sensitive spot just below my ear. My grip on the water bottle tightened, my hand trembling.
“You’re going to be my wife,” he murmured, his voice a deep, seductive rumble that vibrated through me, shaking me to my core.
And just like that, every defense I had carefully constructed around my heart started to crumble.
I felt his warm breath feather across the nape of my neck, sending tremors through my already shaking body. The trembling increased as his hands slid down my arms. One hand moved around to cup my waist, firm and possessive. The other dropped lower, grazing over my stomach before sliding down until his hand rested on my thigh. There, he pressed gently, sending a shockwave of desire through me. With a groan, I lowered the water bottle to the counter, unable to hold onto it any longer.
“Are you in love with this guy?” Mark whispered, his breath so close to my ear that his lips brushed against it.
I shivered uncontrollably, ripples of something I had not felt in a long while shimmering through my body. My mind struggled to process Mark's question; every nerve ending in my body focused on his touch. I leaned back into him, my breasts rising and falling quickly now, completely caught up in the moment, unable to think of anything but the heat of his body against mine.
“I, um...” I gasped as his lips closed on the rim of my ear. His hands clasped my waist gently, bringing me further into his embrace. He did some dark and mysterious things to my earlobes that had me turning to putty in his hands. Moaning mindlessly, I let my head drop limply back against his chest. I wasn’t quite sure what he was doing, but I couldn’t seem to find the mind to care. It felt so damned good; I hardly noticed as his hands inched their way up over my ribs to climb the mounds of my breasts and then squeeze.
“Does he make you feel like this?”
A second moan slipped from my lips. I arched into Mark's touch, my breasts pushing against the material. My hands came up to cover his, drawing him closer. Unconsciously, I twisted my head and sought his lips. Mark’s mouth covered mine. His tongue slid out to trace my lips, urging me to open to him, to give him complete access. I whimpered with resistance, causing a hungry groan to slip from my mouth into his. He turned me around in his arms, mindlessly seeking a closer embrace. Mark’s hips pinned me against the counter.
“Tell me to leave,” he continued as he nuzzled his nose against mine, then kissed my eyelids that had fallen close. “Tell me you don’t want me here kissing you, touching you, dying to be inside of you.”
He wedged a knee between my thighs, pushing forward and upward, then tugged at my shirt and freed the buttons. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so access was instant. I felt the cool air on my nipples, like a caress, before his hands covered them. His lips left mine to travel down my throat, then my nipple. Gasping and moaning, I pressed my bare shoulders back into the refrigerator door, pushing my breasts out as he plucked at them with his fingers and licked at the bare flesh. It was like some sort of madness. I wanted and needed him with a violence that would have terrified me had I seen it coming.
As if hungry for his touch, I arched toward him, pressing closer, moving against him, encouraging him. Mark responded by grabbing my hair and gently tugging my head back, tilting my chin high. Then he gave me the kind of kiss my traitorous lips wanted, devouring my mouth with a passion that stole all my breath and left me panting and gasping.
“Let me make love to you.”
His words were the splash of ice water I needed to shake off the madness. Shaking my head to try to clear my mind, I lifted both my hands, palms out, to put some distance between us. What in the world was I doing?
“No,” I cried.
“No?” he repeated. His gaze moved over my features as surely as a caress.
A whisper of goosebumps raced along my spine, so I forced composure. “You heard me. No.”
“You don’t mean it,” he teased.
There was no way I was admitting the truth. “Everything that looks good isn’t always good for me.”
“It’s good, and you know it.”
Oh yeah, I knew it. Mark was standing beside me again, his hands grasping my waist. He turned me in his arms and swooped in with another searing kiss that left me gasping and breathless. I released a cry. My body seemed to sing joyfully as I felt his nearness and touch again. At that point, Mark could have thrown me across the kitchen table and taken me right then. I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster.
“Leave. Now!”
“Okay.” Mark’s jaw tightened. “My bad. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The tension between us was thick, making it hard to breathe.
I looked into his eyes and saw that familiar stubbornness, that look that said he wasn’t going to back down.
“The only man that’s going to raise my son is me,” he said, his voice steady and determined. “And if that means I gotta keep you from anyone else, then so be it.”
Before I could even yell, ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ Mark grabbed his leather jacket and walked out. The door closed with a solid, final click, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.
I curled up on the sofa long after he was gone, staring blankly at the Christmas tree. The house was too quiet, with only the twinkling lights on the four-foot tree blinking. Their soft glow flickered across the room, casting shadows that seemed to dance with the turmoil inside me.
After he left for Korea, I prayed every night that Mark would call. I remember stalking the mailbox, hoping for a letter that never came. My heart would jump every time my cell phone rang, only to crash when it wasn’t him. As the weeks turned into months, reality hit me hard—I was just a fling to him, a fairytale that didn’t come with a happily ever after. Instead, I was pregnant and alone.
The heartbreak was too much to bear, so I packed up and moved back in with my parents, hoping the familiarity of home would ease the pain. I couldn’t bring myself to return to the elementary school where Kelly and I worked, where everyone knew I had fallen for that charming military officer. So, during Christmas break, I resigned, avoiding the whispers and the pitying looks that would come once they found out I was pregnant. The months that followed were some of the darkest of my life. I slipped into a deep depression, mourning the future I had dreamed of but would never have.
I found a reason to fight back when Tyler was born, his tiny fingers curling around mine. For my son, I clawed out of the darkness, determined to build a life for us both.
And now, two years later, Mark had the nerve to think he could just show up and pick up where we left off, like the pain, the loneliness, the sleepless nights had never happened. Like my heart hadn’t been shattered, I was still trying to piece it back together.
Being around him now meant risking everything I’d worked so hard to rebuild. It meant reopening wounds that had barely started to heal. The thought of letting him back in—only to be broken again—scared me more than anything.
I pulled the throw blanket tighter around myself, my eyes still fixed on the glowing tree. The ornaments shimmered, holding memories of Christmases past, love, family, and joy. I wanted that for Tyler but wasn’t ready to trust Mark to be part of that picture.
* * *
I took the long scenic route back to my parent’s house, hoping they’d already turned in by the time I pulled up. I wasn’t in the mood for my mother’s questions or my dad’s long-winded speeches. My head was still spinning, trying to figure out why Essence had shot down my marriage proposal like it was nothing. Marriage was supposed to be about two people coming together and working toward the same goal. We had a son, and that alone should’ve been enough. So, what was the issue? We used to get along just fine—hell, we could do it again if she’d drop her guard and let me take the lead. Plus, our chemistry was still off the charts. What more could she possibly want? I already knew the answer: love. Essence was on some other stuff. She really believed love and marriage had to be a package deal, but like the song says, what’s love got to do with it? Love was overrated. As if to make my point, some sappy ballad came on the radio. I immediately switched the station, landing on a rap track with a bass-heavy beat that matched my mood perfectly.
I clenched the steering wheel, feeling the frustration rise in my chest. I thought Essence would be happy I proposed and that I was stepping up and ready to share the responsibilities of raising our son. But no-o-o! Outside of Tyler, she didn’t want anything to do with me. I glanced at the speedometer and eased off the gas when I realized I was pushing eighty-five. Dammit . Maybe it was just my pride talking. I wasn’t used to women turning me down. I was always calling the shots, never the other way around. Well, except for Carmen. My jaw tightened just thinking about that mess. She’d done an actual number on me—all in the name of love—and after that disaster, I swore no woman would ever get that close again. As I stared at the dark road ahead, my mind drifted back to Carmen James. I could still see her the first time we met, clear as day. I was leaving the mall, saw her, and instantly knew I had to have her. It all happened so fast—one minute, we were engaged, and the next, everything fell apart. After that, I made a vow: no woman would ever get that deep into my heart again.
Since Carmen, I kept my relationships short and sweet. That’s how I liked it. No strings, no expectations. I didn’t want anyone waiting for me to come home, hoping for more. It was easier just to be forgotten.
But with Essence? It was different. She was the one I couldn’t forget. For two years, she stayed in my head, replaying over and over—the way she felt in my arms and looked at me with those big brown eyes. Even this morning, I thought about how gorgeous Essence Monroe was. What kind of fool would let a woman like her slip through his fingers? She was intelligent, charming, and fiercely independent, unlike military wives who leaned on their husbands for everything. Essence had been holding it down as a single mother for over a year, doing a damn good job raising our son by herself. But that independence? That’s what scared me. Because deep down, I wanted her to need me as much as I needed her.
Need her? I frowned, the thought unsettling. Mark Saunders needs a woman? That didn’t sit right. All I needed was to be a part of my son’s life. That’s why I proposed. I had to stay focused on that and keep my head straight. Otherwise, I might end up making the same mistakes I had made with Carmen, and I wasn’t about to let that happen again. I had to forget about those four weeks Essence and I spent together, put all that behind me, and stay focused on the goal.
But she’s seeing someone else.
That thought hit me like a punch to the gut, and I didn’t like it. Not one bit. I knew I didn’t have the right to feel some type of way about her seeing another man. But that didn’t stop the anger bubbling up inside me. I wasn’t about to sit back and let it slide. Essence and Tyler were my family, and I wasn’t about to let some other dude come and play house. Not now, not ever.
I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my mind made up. If Essence couldn’t see it yet, she would soon enough. I wasn’t going anywhere.