Page 135 of Tarek

“Thanks,” I say, dipping my hands in my pocket. I whistle, letting a sense of love and rage sweep over me. A whole fucking year and some months and she appears today.

I lean into the glass door and push it open gently. I am greeted by lush green hanging vines with purple closed flowers and the skyline of Lakeshore.

I walk to the balcony pressing my stomach against the concrete banister. “Beautiful night isn’t it,”

I hear a sigh and clicking heels, coming closer. Closing my eyes, my heart races, I inhale her scent, it’s a blend of jasmine and citrus. God, I missed her scent. She stands next to me and bows her head.

I continue looking out at the skyline, I exhale, all the stress I held in my shoulders begin to melt away in her presence and peace settles over me.

“Well, shiver me fucking timbers, the Caribbean dweller has returned.”

I hear a faint chortle and a sigh.

“I heard that you have a new man in your life,” my hands clench into a fist digging deeper into my pocket.

“He is more like a good friend,” Penny replies, her voice makes me weak in the knees. I place my hand on the banister as I steady myself.

“Get rid of him,” I reply.

“Jealous much?” she says.

“A little jealousy keeps it fresh right. But I won’t tell you again.” I turn in her direction, and I realize how much about her has changed in a year.

Her red hair is gone and is replaced by black locs, with gold cuffs on them. Her ancestors must be proud because Penny looks like royalty. The way her cape catches the breeze, her shoulders thrown back, chin lifted.

My heart stills as she finally turns to me, her lips tight, her face full of regret.

Despite our circumstances, it hurts to know that she is not being affected the same way I am.

Her skin glows under the soft light.

“Who offered you the contract?”

“A man by the name of Jeremiah Douglas,” she replies.

My brain files it away. “You ran.”

She bows her head. “I had to.”

“No, you didn’t?”

“Yes—I can’t. I can’t give us…..youwhat you want,” her voice rasps.

I lean forward and take a deep whiff of her hair. It smells of expensive musky oil. I close my eyes as I am savoring her presence.

“What do I want?”

Her lips tighten. “A baby.”

“I didn’t want the baby at first. This baby was your idea. You ran because I told you I love you.” I dig my nails into the banister. The cold of the concrete seeps into my fingers.

She lifts her head, and her eyes shine with unshed tears. “No, that’s not true.”

“Do you know what the most painful death is?” I wait as she shakes her head. “It’s loving someone who can’t love you back.”

My heart crushes as I say it out loud.

“No, you don’t understand. I heard you.”

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