23. Alex
Alex
Iroll over and try to silence the incessant ringing. Looking for the snooze button, determined to get ten more minutes, I instead see her name on the screen.
“I’m downstairs.”
When I open the door to Chanice, I am expecting tears, maybe anger, something to show me what brought her here in the middle of the night. Before I can properly assess her, she pulls my face down and kisses me. The searing passion she throws into the contact has me waking up entirely.
“Get naked,” she says, pulling off her jacket.
All I am in is boxers and a tee. Both come off with little effort, falling to the floor. Her fall layers take a little longer, but soon she is standing there naked, too.
She pushes me back until I am falling onto the sofa. Without pause, she grabs a condom, slides it on and mounts me. The moans are instant. So is the grinding as we push to get as close to each other as we can. Running her hands through my already-tousled hair, she grips on tightly while riding.
My hands grab her sides, guiding her hips, bridging our rhythms. That is what we both need to really get us going, and soon we are climbing to the tip of an orgasm. She tumbles down first, screaming my name, and the tightness of her squeezing around me has me soon following her.
Breathing heavy, we just look at each other for a moment. Then, without a word, she stands up and puts her underwear and shirt back on.
“What was that?” I ask.
Her response is a choked cry.
“Chanice.” I grab her in my arms and press her tightly to my chest. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, I am not crying because of that.”
Clearly, when she showed up here, it was for more than just sex. Some emotion was driving her to try to forget everything in my arms. I throw on my boxers and lead us to sit on the couch. She nestles her head into my shoulder and takes one shuddering breath while I wrap my arm around her.
“What’s going on?”
“Well, let’s see, I have to come up with three hundred and fifty pounds extra a month for rent. I can’t get a better job to save my life, and my mother has somehow proved to Child Services that she is a fit parent. They plan on taking the kids and giving them back to her.”
My surprise is so audible that she lifts her head to look at me. I don’t want to shift her focus, so I close my mouth and continue to stroke her arm. She lays her head back down and, with a heavy exhale, begins to finally open up.
“I don’t understand how they can do this.
There is a whole file of times that she has proven to be inadequate, and that’s just the ones on record.
Like when I was twelve, before Gabby was even born, and Jamal was just a baby, she left us alone for a week.
We ran out of diapers on the third day, and food on the fifth.
We were living off of water and biscuits.
Jamal was sitting in newspaper diapers.” With a shuddering breath, she wipes at her eyes.
“I tried so hard to get us everything we needed, but I was so scared that if I asked anyone for help, someone would call the cops. When she showed back up, she acted like it was our fault that we were left like that. She didn’t even bother to feel bad.
This is just one of the many horrible stories I have of living with her that no one in that department knows about.
” She sniffles, and my heart breaks for that little girl.
I pull her tighter against me like that will somehow protect her from her past. She can’t even outrun this pain if she wanted to because it’s still happening.
“I have been taking care of them for as long as I have been alive. I know I didn’t bring them into this world, but these are my kids, and she shouldn’t get them just because she did.”
There are no words to make this better, but there are actions, and I am willing to do whatever it takes.
“How can I help?”
She sits up and tucks her curls behind her ears. It clears her face, allowing me to better see how beaten down she is. This isn’t the type of exhaustion that can be slept off or self-cared away. To her bones, she is tired.
“I don’t want you to do anything yet. I just want to vent. Please just let me talk about it.”
It goes against my instincts to do nothing, but I nod.
She falls back into me and begins to let it all out.
I don’t know how much time passes, but with every fury-inducing story, I feel her shoulders ease more and more.
At some point she stops crying, her breaths evening out.
The whole time, she doesn’t look at me as she speaks.
Only when she is done does she turn around and face my reaction.
The whole time she was talking, I stayed calm and listened, but every story was like another match to my burning rage. She can see the reflection of the inferno in my eyes, and it seems to ease her even more.
She has been carrying this pain her whole life, and she is blessing me with the opportunity to see it.
Lowering her shield, she is showing me all the scars from every battle in her childhood.
I don’t know if she expects me to turn away from this kind of suffering, but it only makes me more determined to be there for her.
And if possible, to ruin the life of the woman who caused it.
“I’m sorry, I know this is a lot.” Her laugh is bitter, ground down and presented for me to drink. The taste of her rawness is just how I like it.
“Stop saying sorry to me. Stop saying thank-you. Stop acting like you don’t deserve to have someone be there for you. I am here, and I am not going anywhere.”
She looks into my eyes, and I hope she sees the truth of that statement. I want her to see that I will burn this world down to the ground and rebuild it to her liking. If I can help it, nothing will ever hurt her again.
“That’s good, because your dick is my stress relief.” Her laugh is light, and I am glad she can smile after all of this.
“Since we are talking about my family, I want you to know I don’t want kids. I don’t know if that is a forever thing, but it sure as hell is a fact right now. If I do get pregnant, though, I won’t abort it.” She draws into herself, waiting to see how I will react to that.
I don’t have the right words. There is so much to unpack in that, but the only option right now is to store it away.
“Okay.”
With a smile, she gets up and looks down at her work shirt. I hand her my tee so she doesn’t have to wear that.
“I should go.”
I look at my phone and then at her like she is crazy.
“It’s 5 a.m., you aren’t going anywhere.”
“I really can’t stay.”
“You have no other choice.” I get up and walk over to her, grabbing hold of her hand.
Leading her toward my bedroom, I don’t wait to see if she agrees. I meant what I said.
She changes into my shirt. Crawling under the covers, she settles in. I want to join her, but I’m expected to be in the office in three hours and need to reschedule everything.
“Aren’t you coming?” She curls onto her side, making room for me, her eyes already starting to close.
“Soon, just go to sleep.”
Satisfied, she turns over and finally lets herself rest. I grab my phone and walk into my office. I have a bunch of calls I need to make, but there is one I need to do first.
“Hello, Alex dear.” I knew Liv would be awake. She is too used to her schedule of jogging at 6 a.m. that she won’t let herself sleep in, even while pregnant.
“I need your advice.” My leather chair feels cold to my bare skin as I sit down. It’s the thing I need to wake me back up again.
“At this hour? What did you do, get married or something?”
“Give me a couple of weeks to convince her.” I know I’m not entirely joking.
“Be serious.” Not finding humor in what I said, she sounds tired.
“The girl I told you about, the one I am seeing. Her life is a lot more complicated than I let on, and it seems to just be getting worse. She doesn’t want my help financially, but doing so would improve her situation greatly.
Should I push her?” Sitting forward, I rest my elbows on my desk.
With no lights on, I stare into the darkness of the office.
“Are you calling me because you did the same thing when I got cut off?”
“Yes.” I breathe out the word, all my frustration inflating it.
She goes quiet for a moment, likely thinking of the best way to explain this to me. I know whatever she has to say, I need to hear.
“Would you say we were financially supported as children?” She is baiting me, but I still take the cheese.
“Obviously.”
“And did that make us feel loved or taken care of?”
“Of course not.” I rub a hand down my face before pressing my forehead to the desk.
“There, you answered your own question.” I can hear her getting up, likely leaving the room so she doesn’t wake her wife. I regret forcing her to move when she is on bed rest.
“But can’t I do both? Our situation would have been a lot worse if we had the parents we have and were also poor. Why does it have to be one or the other?” I hear water, and I know she is putting a kettle on for tea. It makes me want coffee.
“It doesn’t have to be one or the other, but you do need to remember which is more important.
If she doesn’t want your money, that’s fine.
You can still give her your support and shoulder.
Most women prefer a good man over a rich one because, in the end, that is what matters.
Who knows, maybe if she feels loved by you, it won’t feel like a burden to be financially taken care of.
I know it helped me a lot when it came to accepting your money. ”
As much as it’s not the answer I want, it’s the one I need to hear. At the end of the day, this isn’t about me. What will make me feel better is not the point. I will just have to find other ways to make sure she is okay. I just hope it’s enough, because losing these kids is going to break her.
“Thank you.” I finally turn on my desk lamp, ready to see the reality of the situation. If this is what is best for her, then this is what I will do.
I let Liv talk about her birth plan while I send off emails to my assistant and vice president. When she is done, so am I, having addressed everything important.
“Can I say something?” she asks, and I prepare myself for a talking down.
“Sure.”
“It seems to me like you really care about this woman, so I am going to ask you what you asked me. Is she worth it?”
I lean back and think of the right words to say. Searching the ceiling for the answer. I know she is asking me about more than just the progression of our relationship, knowing very well what it will mean if I choose to be with Chanice. It’s the same question Carter has been asking me for months.
“Yes, she is, and so am I.” I echo what she said that day, back to her, and let her know in so many words that this is about more than just this woman.
This is about my happiness.
I can hear the smile in her voice as she bids me goodnight. After I finish up the call, I get to work preparing the reports that are due tomorrow. I’ll have to pull an all-nighter to get the work done, but if I am going to stay home with her tomorrow, then I need to do it.