Page 163 of Treason's Temptation
“Why?”
“Charles.”
“Charles?” I mocked, surprised.
He was Sloane’s second husband. A name I hadn’t heard in a long time because Sloane wasn’t like most widows. She was never in mourning or sad that they were gone. More like rejoicing for all the money she stood to collect.
“He was the first person who made me feel safe. Outside of you,” Rayven confessed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “Home-cooked meals, a house that felt like a home. He tucked me in at night and asked about my grades like he meant it.”
Then he had a stroke. I wasn’t even sure it was scientifically possible, but I blamed Sloane. Charles was a wealthy entrepreneur who got caught in Sloane’s web.
“I liked Charles, too,” I agreed.
“Remember when we made the principal's list and we went on vacation?”
“Sloane was so pissed,” I laughed, recalling her packing her suitcase with expensive curated looks only to find out we were going camping instead of cruising the French Riviera on a yacht.
“Then he taught us how to make s’mores by the campfire,” Rayven recalled. “Some days I wonder if Sloane is right. Neurosurgery is a hard field to break into. Especially for African American women.”
“Everything is harder for African American women.”
“A little easier for me because of you. It’s not your job, but you show up with no guide or compass. You never let that stop you from figuring it out. I think you and Tre would be great parents.”
“What did he do with my sister, and when is she returning?” I asked, peeking inside her robe, because this person had to be an impostor.
“I am your sister,” she giggled.
“You sure? It sounds like you’rehissister! Did he bribe you with that fellowship? Hmm?” I asked, sitting on her for leverage while I tickled her, “Did he put you up to this?”
“No! Okay! Stop before I piss in this expensive ass bed,” Falling flat on the bed, we both stared at the ceiling until Rayven caught her breath. “I asked him if he wanted the baby.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Sometimes older sisters need an oldest sister.”
“But you’re not the oldest,” I clarified.
“So, I can pretend,” Rayven scoffed.
“What did he say?”
“What difference does it make?” She asked, rolling on her side.
“You brought it up. Don’t hold back now.”
“He said he loves you a lot, and whatever you wanna do, he’s got you. I’m not you or Sloane, but I kind of believe him. I know love is a stretch for you, but do you at least like him?”
“Damn, that was rude.”
“Love is built on trust, and you don’t trust men. We have to start small. Do you like Tre?”
“Actually, I do love him. It didn’t feel so scary at first, but now I want to pack my shit and run away.”
“Do you think he’s really nice or pretending like Lorenzo?”
“He hasn’t hit me,” I volunteered, because Rayven wasn’t brave enough to ask.
She loved Lorenzo at first, too. He played the perfect role, charming in public and a nightmare at home.
