Second Thoughts by Kristofer Clarke Read Free Book Online

good enough for you to keep your dick in your pants.”
    “Tell me you don’t love me anymore.”
    “No,” she answered quickly and stubbornly.
    The pounding in my chest had slowed.   
    “Why not? Because it’s not true?”
    “That’s not what I said.”
    “Then tell me,” I pleaded.
    “No, because it’s not what you want to hear. I loved you when I forgave you. I loved you when I thought I was blaming you for something that just wasn’t true. I loved you when I decided to trust you would never betray me. But the DaMarcus I hate lied his ass off when truth was an option. Now, do you still want to know if I don’t love you anymore? I already forgave you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have allowed Shedrick to slow-dance his way into my life. So, just in case I forgot to thank you… Thanks.”
    I sat with the phone in my hand, looking in disbelief ‘cause Belinda had just hung up on me. Hearing that I had driven her into the arms of another man was unnerving. I had just pled my case to the woman I still loved, and nothing I said, nothing I’d been saying, was enough to bring her back to me. I wanted to get those nights back when I held her beside me.

    Chapter 6
    Patrick…
    Just Be a Man About It
     
     
    I picked up my cell phone and held it tightfisted in contemplation. I’d left it on the counter of my personal size gourmet demonstration-style kitchen. I’d been sitting at the far end, under the hanging fluorescents, since I’d walked in the house, aft er pouring a glass of Bordeaux. It’s where I’d spent the last few evenings, quietly preparing my mind for the next few days. I sat staring at the screen on the phone, rehearsing phone numbers─very few─I had committed to memory.
    I had been working on this c onversation with Dr. Kendrick. After every session, I had promised her and myself I would make the call, only to return to her office the next week, lay on her couch with one leg hanging over the side with my face buried in the fold of my arm, telling her my nerves had gotten the best of me. Or, in her words, I had chickened out. Saying “I’m sorry,” had proven to be more difficult than I thought it would ever be. My careless self had never apologized for anything─didn’t think I needed to. After all, Omar ha d never offered me any apologies for the unhealthy relationships I’d found myself in because of him. Nor did he apologize for the nightmares or the confusions that greeted me when night came and stayed with me until morning broke. He never apologized for the self-hate he caused because I scorned the skin I was in, all because of him. It was as if he had left handprints on me, and prints of other parts of him in me that became visible under fluorescents. Instead, he sat hiding behind his lawyer’s words with a smug look on his face, as if he’d done the world or me a favor. Damn, the hatred I had for that man. Because of him, I lived and loved haphazardly, concerned about no one else’s hurt but mine.
    I thought about calling Devaan, but that would raise questions I didn’t feel like dealing with, and I was doing all I could to keep so much of me hidden from her. It bothered me that I was still keeping things from her. I hadn’t told her about my trips to Atlanta to see Dr. Kendrick. After what I had gone through w ith the last two brothas I had kicked it with, I needed a fresh start─I needed Devaan.
    I’d met Devaan on August 7, 2008. I was sitting in Palena on Connecticut Avenue, in the Cleveland Park section of D.C. with my brother Chance and his new agent, Montrea l Crawford, when Devaan and two friends walked in. I wish I could say the three women were equally matched in beauty, but I would be lying. The truth is Devaan was the prettiest of the three at the time, that’s all that mattered, though the other two were no ugly ducklings. I tried to hide my instant infatuation, but her presence demanded my attention.  I tried to be inconspicuous, but I would need dark