“This broad I was dating at the time fell in love with Mario’s crème br?lée,” I answer casually. Rayna’s head pops up and she squints her eyes. Finally, I have those piercing brown irises on me. “It was a no brainer from there.” Though Rayna was my motivation for agreeing to invest, I’d also believed the new vision for this place was viable.
Minutes later, when Rayna has run through about half of each plate, she comes up for air. We sing happy birthday to Yazmine and wait for her tears to slow so she could blow out the candles. Then she opens her birthday gifts from Rayna and me; a new gold stud nose ring and a family ring that holds birthstones of Yazmine, my deceased father and me. Yazmine seems to love it and I have Rayna to thank for the gift ideas. After that ordeal, Yazmine and Samantha happily engage in conversations that sometimes includes Erin. It amazes me how these two women who were once complete strangers have cultivated a bond the way they have. They are truly companionable, looking out for each other.
Suddenly, I notice Erin pivot over to Rayna, rubbing her belly as she chants, “Baby. Baby. Baby.”
Rayna’s hands frantically shoot up to cover Erin’s little ones, and her eyes are about to pop out of her head.
“Erin!” she whispers forcefully in an admonitory manner.
“Oh, so it’s out?” Yazmine asks excitedly. “I can’t believe y’all finally gon’ tell us on my birthday.” She turns to Samantha and cheers, “You was right, Sammy; we gon’ be grandmommies!”
Yazmine proceeds to high five Samantha. However, Samantha holds trepidation.
After a few beats, Samantha murmurs, “You ain’t tell him, did you?”
My eyes swing over to Rayna whose mouth is agape and her eyes are just the same. I can see her go rigid in her seat. She immediately goes into sputtering, “No…Erin has a teacher…her teacher is pregnant and shared it with the class. She does this to all women now!” she explains anxiously. Then she turns to me, “It’s just a phase that kids go through! I swear…ask her,” she urges.
Needing to ask a small child about matters concerning my wife seems quite incredulous to me. I won’t be asking anybody shit regarding my wife. I glance down at her belly that now has a little bulge, but that could easily be because she full from all the food she’s just inhaled. My thoughts are racing. What was Samantha right about? I throw a glance back over to Samantha who, along with her daughter, is holding her breath. Yazmine’s eyes deliberately retreated minutes ago. It hits me that Rayna hasn’t touched her wine. Shit! All of a sudden, I can’t remember her last period.
When we’d had sex that night at the marina, after leaving Redondo Beach, it was in the shower. I’d figured that was the best place considering her condition. Now that I think about it, I didn’t see any blood. I was expecting it, but dismissed it knowing I’d never had sex with a woman while she was menstruating, so I didn’t know what to look for. Could it be because she wasn’t bleeding after all? But she hadn’t been expecting me that night in Redondo Beach to put on a fucking tampon as a front.
You’re buggin’ the fuck out, Divine! Rayna would never keep this from me. Would she?
I know the answer.
My eyes shoot back over to my wife who is now visibly shaking. My glare is sharp and well-intended. I am sure to be unequivocal in my inquisition, annoyed that I’m being revisited by flighty, timid, conniving Rayna Brimm.
“No. I prefer asking you.” My eyes scan her small waist once again before I ask, “Are you pregnant?”
Chapter 19
Rayna
Is there something about that restaurant that begs my secrets out of the closet?
I ponder this as I walk into the apartment. I immediately hear Azna running towards the door, trotting the same pace as my racing heart. I’m bracing myself for this showdown with Azmir. When we abruptly ended dinner at DiFillippo’s, Azmir left for the marina and I returned Princess Erin to Amber and Brenda before meeting my seething husband at home.
As I enter into his office, I can hear Azmir finishing a conversation. His daggering eyes pin me in place. Crap! This isn’t going to be good.
“Tomorrow morning will be fine. I’ll see her then. Yeah… Thanks again for agreeing to this at such short notice,” he mumbles then hangs up.
“Azmir,” I try to cut him off at the path. “I know what you’re thinking and—”
“You couldn’t possibly know what I’m thinking. And you damn sure haven’t a clue as to how I’m feeling, so let’s get that shit straight now.” His brow line is hiked, telling of anger. Brooklyn is definitely in the house and I feel like I’m being pushed out of his ring of trust.
I exhale and find my eyes rolling. “I was going to tell you.”
“WHEN?” he shouts. I try to hide the tremble of my frame.
“If you would give me a minute, I can give you the timeline of all of this—”
“Fuck your timeline!” he barks as he jumps from his chair.