Return to Love

His parents had never given up on him, even after his near-failing grade reports. When Regina put him out, he’d felt like nothing. He’d decided not to come back until he’d made something of himself, until he could show her that he could take care of things. Although he tried, he couldn’t do much about that semester, and he mourned the whole summer over their breakup. But the following semester, after she’d already finished and moved on, he was back with a vengeance, determined to prove himself.

He finished his undergraduate degree in accounting and did an internship within the year. Then he went on to an MBA in accounting and finance. He couldn’t get into an accelerated program because of his grade point average, but he used the two-year program to take real-estate and investment classes. He graduated at the top of his class and then sat for the CPA exam.

In a way, his goal had become money. He joined an accounting firm and used all his degrees to start amassing a bank account. Then he made a vertical move to the position he was in now so that he could move back to the DC area, where Regina still was.

But it wasn’t just money; he wanted everything that came with real success, real responsibility. And he wanted to be more cultured, too. No more baggy pants, no more ghetto fashion, no more looking like the hood. Everything about his life was bent on making it, looking the part, being professional, working hard, getting it right.

She’d gone to study with some artists for a year—or so he’d heard. But other than that, she had stayed in the area after their Howard years. He didn’t have many details; after a while people had finally started to get the message and had stopped telling him her activities. By the time she got back to DC after her year away, he was immersed in his own MBA program down home in South Carolina, trying to catch up. What his buddy had said fell into place. That year away would have been when she’d had their child.

Was it one child or two? Yes, he would be finding out.

He just had to get through the day. Then he had to get his game back and make it through the rest of the week. This weekend he would stake his claim.

* * *

Regina turned the car off and grabbed her purse. She’d had an errand to run for her morning office job, and then she had to drop off some of her pieces at a gallery downtown that was having a showing of local artists. By the time she got to the studio, she was running late.

She found Amelie finishing up with a customer. She had sold one of her large, bead-covered bowls and had a new beadwork project in process on the back table in the bead section.

“Sorry I’m late. I hope that means we’ve been doing well today.”

“No problem, and yes—relatively speaking. We’ve sold one of yours and one of mine. Whoo-hoo.”

There was no one else in the shop, so Regina started pulling out her project. “I don’t know if that’s anything to whoo-hoo about. But it’s good. We have to get our front fixed up soon.”

“I know. I registered us for the seminar you were talking about,” Amelie said, “the one at the community center on starting up a small business.”

“Oh, good. I’ve been working on our paperwork from the books I found.”

And she had been. It was like having another part-time job. Regina pulled out her tiles and began setting up her workstation.

“I didn’t make it to the post office today,” Regina said.

“I’m going to leave early to get some of my jewelry to the consignment shop. Is there anything you want me to take to the post office for you on my way?”

“No, I haven’t even wrapped the package yet. I’ll get it tomorrow. You take off.”

“Okay. I put out two new pieces. This one—” Amelie pointed to a necklace “—is made of yellow jasper beads with cowrie shell accents, and this one—” she pointed to a jewelry box “—is made with rose quartz and Czech glass.”

“They’re beautiful. You keep getting more elaborate.”

“That’s the point.”

After Amelie left, Regina sat down to her project. She was on the sky section and needed to break some more light blue and white tiles. It was the act of hammering the pieces under a cloth that made her think of Nigel. That fraud.

She replaced the cloth and banged the center of a large blue tile, splitting it into triangles. It had been almost a week since he’d appeared out of the blue, and she’d finally stopped worrying that every stranger who turned up might be him coming back for round two.

She straightened out the cloth and went for the triangles, smashing them into small trapezoids. She would get him his item and be done with him. She had too much going on in her life that she wanted to get done. She didn’t need one more thing to distract her.

* * *

Nigel checked the inside pocket of his sports suit to make sure he had everything. She wouldn’t be flinging his check back at him this time. He took a breath. No need to go there yet. He hadn’t gotten anything in the mail, so maybe her bark wasn’t as bad as her bite.

He got out of the car and started unloading the packages from the backseat. It was after 8:00 p.m. on a Sunday, and the studio was closed, so he assumed they’d be home, tomorrow being a school day. He’d get all the packages up the back steps before ringing the buzzer.

It was beginning to get dark outside, so when she opened the door, the warm, yellow light from inside haloed behind her and made her look like an angel—his angel. She had on white leggings and a summer camisole, but the soft fabrics hugged her curves in a way that made his mouth water.

Except that her hips were deeper, she hadn’t changed from the girl he loved. She had natural dimples in the curve of her cheeks so that she looked always on the verge of a smile, and her tapered waist flared out into the most luscious behind he’d ever seen. Even in the simple leggings that she had on now, she made his knees weak.

Her hair was different this time—pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck in a way that emphasized her umber eyes. The anger he saw form in her eyes at the sight of him in the doorway snapped him back to the present, to the fact that they were torn apart.

“Hello, Reggie.”

“Don’t hello me. What on earth are you doing at my house?”

The moment she opened her mouth, his calm was shattered, but he didn’t show it. There was no mistaking the animosity in her voice. She didn’t want him in her private space. She didn’t want him anywhere near her at all.

“I still need to speak with you. Can I come in?”

“No. No, you cannot. And I don’t have anything to say to you.”

He didn’t want to force things with her. He’d let her cut him off time and again in the studio, intentionally giving her the upper hand so that she could see that he wasn’t there to threaten her. But this time, he wasn’t going to back down. This time, he wasn’t going to be sent away.

“Look, Reggie. You and whoever you’re with will not keep me from my child. Or children. You don’t have the right to do that.”

“What?”

“I want to see my children. I know I haven’t been there for them so far, but that will not be the case from here on out.”

She sighed, and he saw some of the fight go out of her—not the rage or the anger that he saw in her eyes, but some of the fight. Her shoulders slumped, and she turned into the apartment, walking away from him.

He gathered up the packages from the stairwell and followed her inside. She had her back to him and seemed to be staring at the wall or at nothing, so he shut the door behind them.

He had been gone a long time. He knew that. Perhaps she had to decide if he was safe or if she was willing to share their children. Or perhaps she just needed to get her mind accustomed to the idea.

He was standing in what turned out to be the dining area, with a kitchen off to the side. There was no partition separating it from the living room, where she now stood.

The first thing he saw was the art. It filled her rooms with color, and she’d even painted the chairs and cabinets and bookshelves to make them pop. All of her touches filled the room—the African masks and dolls on the walls, the embroidered cushions on the sofa, the framed paintings and mosaics covering the walls. So much claimed his eyes that he almost missed how worn down the permanent structure underneath was.

The kitchen and dining nook seemed to have come straight out of the ’60s—battered wooden cabinets, ancient countertops, worn linoleum flooring—and the rest of the place didn’t fare much better. Downstairs, everything that they’d added stood out as new against the old.

Her voice tore him away from his perusal.

“How did you find out?”

He put his bundles down.

“I found out from someone who’s not supposed to know.”

“Please tell me.”

The resignation in her voice pulled at his heartstrings.

“I ran into your roommate’s ex-boyfriend a few months ago. But it shouldn’t have taken finding that out to make me come look for you. I just wanted to make something of myself before I did. But when I found out that you were pregnant when...when you called things off between us...Reggie, why didn’t you tell me? Why did you send me away without me knowing?”

He took a step toward her, but she took a step back.

“What would you have done? You were too busy hanging with your friends and blowing off school. You might have stayed, but it would have been for the wrong reasons. And I didn’t need you to make a life for...”

She shook her head, trailing off.

“But I should have known. I had a right to know. And if—”

“Let it go.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her jaw was set in a rigid line that told him she would not be offering any answer to that question.

“Where are they, Reggie? I want to see them. And I plan to be there for them from now on. It doesn’t matter if you’re with someone else. I’m still their father.”

He pulled the check out of his suit pocket.

“If you don’t want it, that’s fine. But they deserve it. And so do you. Where are they?”

She looked at him as he put the check down on the dining table, and what he saw in her wet eyes was a combination of sadness and hate.

She turned away from him again and buried her face in her hands. When she spoke, it was through tears, but it was with rage.

“There is no they.”

He didn’t understand. “What?”

“Don’t you get it? There is no they. There was no child.”

He wondered for a split second if she had...let go of it...after they had broken apart. But then he looked at her shaking shoulders. He knew her better than to think that.

“No child?”

It started to sink in. He wasn’t a father. The little boy he had seen wasn’t his. Nor the little girl. His child had not made it. His heart fell. He crossed over to her but stopped just behind her without touching her, not knowing how to comfort her, not knowing if she would receive his comfort.

“There was no child,” she said again, stammering. She whirled toward him, ready to strike, but didn’t. She just stopped and stared at his face, her own face crumpling.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and drew her to him, but she wrangled against him.

“There was no child,” she repeated, lashing at his chest with her fists. It was like a dam had broken, as though she couldn’t stop herself once she’d started letting it out. She kept pummeling his chest with her fists as if it was his fault, or maybe because he’d been the one to make her say it, relive it. “And you weren’t there.”

She drew back after she said it—the truth of it all. She had tears spilling down her face, and her fists were still balled, ready to strike. Her eyes were red and wet, filled with rage and hate. And now he knew why.

Regina kept hammering at him, as if she wanted to pound him until all the hurt she had carried over the years was finally over. But when she stood back and looked up at his face, what she saw there stopped her. Nigel wondered if she could see that the disappointment in his eyes was as bottomless as her own heartbreak must have been. Nigel knew the moment that the resistance went out of her and stepped toward her, folding her in his arms again.

“When I saw the kids downstairs—”

He wanted to go on, but he couldn’t control his voice.

For a while she didn’t say anything but simply sobbed against his chest.

When she found her voice, it was shaky. “I was babysitting. Kyle belongs to Jason, and Tenisha to another friend. They’re not related, and they’re not even the same age. Kyle is five and a half, and Tenisha is seven.”

After she got the words out, she convulsed in tears again.

He just held her while she wept.

When he thought she was back in control, he ventured, “What happened...to ours?”

For a few moments, she cried harder. Then she took in a deep breath.

“I lost it. I miscarried.”

She broke from him and went to the window, trying to wipe her face with her hands.

“And guess when. Guess.”

Her tone was sardonic, but she was still fighting back her tears.

“On the day that would have been our wedding day,” she said.

He went to her and wrapped his arms around her again, but she fought him. “No. You weren’t there. You weren’t there.”

She hit at his shoulders with her open palms, her body racked by sobs.

He pulled her into his embrace. “I’m so sorry,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Please. I didn’t know.”

“You should have known. You should have been there.”

“You sent me away, Reggie.”

She was silent, tears still streaming down her face. He held her and rubbed her back until her body shook less. He smoothed her hair and kissed her temples until her tears abated some. He ignored her periodic attempts to rustle from his arms.

When she had stilled, he pulled her chin up to look at her, to see that she was all right. Her eyes were red from crying, and her lips were tender from being pressed so hard together. He wanted to drain the redness from her eyes and soothe the pain out of her expression.

“I’m so sorry, Reggie, so sorry.”

He folded her against his chest and ran his hand down her back. In the quiet, he could feel the way her body pressed against his in the embrace. He wanted to feel that forever. He wanted to make her his again.

This time when he pulled her face up to his, he bent down, softly kissing her lips. He wanted to turn back time, to undo the hurt he’d caused, to be there when he should have been there.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

She said nothing, but she didn’t move from his arms either.

He bent his head to the side of her face and kissed her eyelid, her cheek, her earlobe. Then he cupped her head and took her mouth with his, parting her lips with his own and claiming her breath.

He felt her hands tighten around his upper arms and knew that her body was responding. He wanted to assuage the hurt inside her with his lips, pacify the anger out of her with his fingertips.

When he moved his tongue into her mouth, it opened for him, and a quiet murmur escaped into his mouth, igniting fire inside of him. She took a small step back, but he stepped with her, closing the gap between them before she could make it. He claimed her hips with his hands and pressed her against his loins. She sucked in her breath and then another murmur filled his mouth.

She put her arms around his neck, and her tongue played against his, inviting him deeper inside. He could read her desire. He had always been able to. It was clear that she was starting to want him the way he wanted her.

Nigel could sense the battle being waged inside Regina. The years of hurt and anger, of bearing the burden alone, were at odds with everything else that was happening between them. He wanted for everything else to win.

“Let me be there for you now,” he whispered against her lips.

Then he reclaimed her mouth, running his hands along her back. He couldn’t resist cupping her bottom and pulling her closer, and when he did, he felt a slight tilt of her hips as she drew nearer. He knew where she yearned, and he wanted to ease that need, even as his own grew hotter and less controllable with every passing minute.

He bent down farther, his mouth finding her neck, and cupped her buttocks again, lifting her body against his. When he heard her low moan against his ear, he lifted her off her feet and strode toward the back of the apartment to find her bedroom.

He expected her to stop him, but she said nothing while he eased her down on the bed and lowered himself over her, pressing his swollen groin against her sweet center. Instead, she reached for his arms and pulled him closer to her, kneading herself along his body. It had been so long for him that even this small movement sent him close to the edge, but he knew better than to let himself go. He knew that this was for her, that this was to let her know that she wasn’t alone all that time, that he was still loving her. It was to calm the sore places, to hush the anger and the rage.

He looked at her tearstained face in the moonlight. He had been waiting for this for so long, so long. Her fingers at his back let him know that his wait would soon be over. But he wouldn’t rush to that place. This was for her.

He settled next to her and slid his hand into her leggings. When he found the wetness of her womanhood, his loins leapt, and he heard her moan.

Her long, sepia legs came into view as he removed her leggings, and her beautiful breasts fell into the open as he pulled the camisole over her head and undid her bra. He pulled the bow from her hair and laid her back down. He meant to take his own clothes off as well, but the sight of her pulled him back to the bed.

When he took the closest breast into his mouth, he heard her moan. He couldn’t resist the feel of her nipple against his tongue, the feel of her wetness at his fingertips, the way her body writhed with his caresses. This was for her.

Before he lost control, he stood up and removed his suit, his shirt, the rest of his clothes. He found a condom and got it on quickly, returning to Regina’s side on the bedspread. He kissed her, reminding himself to take it slowly. This was for her.

He ran his hand over her body, listening for the places that made her breath heavy and feeling for the places that made her body sway toward his. He kissed her neck and pulled her leg over his thigh so that he could touch her warm, wet center again, and when he did, she let out a low, guttural moan that filled his body with need. He couldn’t wait any longer.

When he moved between her thighs, her legs spread for him, pressing against his hips. And when he entered her, her mouth opened beneath his, drawing him in. He pressed gently toward her center, stifling his own moan and barely able to keep control. It had always been this way for him with this woman.

She moaned as he pressed slowly inside of her. She was as tight as she had been the first time they had been together many years ago, tighter even than he remembered. Drowning in her beauty, he found her mouth and covered it again with his own. He had to remind himself to slow down, to take his time. He had been wanting this for so long, so long. But this was for her.

Chapter 3

Regina got up before the sun came up. The bed next to her was empty, but she had been wrapped in the top sheet and spread. Her body was still pleasantly tender from the activity of the night before, and she was glad to have some time to collect her thoughts before beginning her day. Even more so, she was glad to have time before facing Nigel again—time to figure out what to say, how to explain that things had gotten out of hand.

She knew she should have stopped him when he kissed her, but after the emotional roller coaster of the evening—the anger that he had come back again, the anguish over the fresh memory of the loss of their child, the unspeakable shame that she had lost it—after all of that, she needed those arms around her.

When she had looked in his face, she had finally seen someone who understood what having and then losing their child had meant to her. And for the first time, she had just let herself cry.

Someone could finally comprehend what she had been through, someone who felt the pain, as well. Maybe that was what had wrenched all of that turmoil to the top. Maybe that was what had made her vulnerable to his advances.

She should have stopped him when he ran his hand up and down her back, sending tingles through her, but right then, the wounds in her had finally found a place where they could be held, and she wasn’t willing to leave that shelter. She hadn’t been touched in so long. She hadn’t had a place to unburden the past. That’s what his hands did to her. They softened the rage; they caressed the hurt.

She should have stopped him when he carried her to her bedroom, but she hadn’t been touched with understanding in so long—the kind of understanding that made her needy and wanting. Yes, by then, she wanted it as much as he did.

She should have stopped him, but it had always been this way between them.

Regina kicked off the sheets and went into the bathroom to run a bath. It wasn’t her usual routine, but she had time, and it would help her calm down and think.

He was taller than he’d been before, but mostly, he was more in control, more able to take his time, more able to respond to her body rather than running along ahead of her. This made him a different lover than the one she had known.

Having him inside of her had felt just like the first time. He was slow and gentle. He filled her with his presence. At first, he had made long, slow thrusts, stroking the aches out of her and making her body arch off the bed. Then he had found her spots and made her eager, pushed her toward the edge.

He had kissed her tears, lulling her sadness away, consoling her heartbreak. But he had also run his thumbs over her breasts, lighting fire in her. Between the tenderness and the flame, she wasn’t sure which was most consuming, most arousing.

When he cupped her head in his palms and kissed her, the gentleness of his kiss had alleviated her anger and healed her bruises, but his chest moving along her breasts as he plunged inside of her made her wrap her legs around him and draw him farther inside.

“Reggie, Reggie, I’ve missed you so much,” he had murmured over and over.

His deep voice sent tingles down her back, and when he whispered it against her ear, her body had broken out in goose bumps, and an agonizing pressure built up at her center.

“Tell me what you need, baby,” he had said.

She couldn’t speak, and she just held on, clinging to his shoulders. She only needed.

Then he had moved his hand down between them and begun to massage her while he moved inside of her, making her moan, making her grind against him, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. Then the first waves of climax hit her, and her body gripped his length. He groaned and thrust against her, but waited for her full release before burying his face next to hers and bucking inside of her as he rode his own wave of orgasm. When it was over, she had turned from him, and he had pulled her back against his chest, and they had slept spooned together that way.

Remembering the night sent arrows of heat through Regina’s body. She was letting the memory overwhelm her, when she needed to be figuring out what to do now and where they would go from here.

Only, there was no they, and one night of passion didn’t erase six years of frustration and hurt and loneliness. It didn’t bring back their child or make their wedding happen. It didn’t turn back time.

* * *

Nigel had woken up early, before dawn. He couldn’t get back to sleep, but he didn’t want to wake up Regina. He thought about it—round two—but decided he had better not. His day would have to start in a bit, and he wouldn’t be able to take his time.