Page 41 of Almost Paradise

Despite all of that, Carter loves him. He doesn’t ask any questions. He’s just happy to have a daddy. Maybe that’s why he showed up now. Any longer, and Carter would ask questions, but three-year-olds are just full of love and acceptance. Even when the parent doesn’t deserve it. I’d never deny my son his father, but Drake doesn’t know Carter as well as I do. He is not ready for that. At least not yet.

“I already told you he’s not ready for that.” I brush past him and go to my small home office. He follows.

“Really? I find that interesting since he was with your parents for an entire weekend.” I want to slam my coffee mug down and tell him to go to hell, but I don’t do that. I take a deep breath, gently put down my mug and turn to face him.

“You aren’t seriously comparing my parents to you and your family, are you?” I scoff. When all he does is look down at me and blink, I say, “You know who supported me during my pregnancy? My parents. You know who’s been there since the day of Carter’s birth? My parents. They’ve provided emotional, physical, and financial support. You’ve been here for five minutes, and if what you’re saying is true, your family has already rejected him. I will not allow his feelings to be hurt by them. Furthermore, I told you Carter is not ready to go off alone with you, so you and your demands can go to hell. Or at the very least, go back to wherever you’ve been since before he was born.”

I log in to my computer and open my work email. He leans against my desk. I try to ignore him, but it’s impossible.

“Do you remember this tie?” he asks, knowing full well that I do.

“Nope,” is all I say as I sip my coffee.

“What about these?” He lifts both wrists.

“Can’t say that I do,” I lie.

“Well, I’m sure it will come to you.” I ignore him and pretend to be engrossed in an email when the truth is, I can’t concentrate on anything but him. The smell of his cologne is enough to make me combust.

“You’re wasting my time,” I mutter. “Can you get to the point or get out?”

“Today’s a special day.” He reaches for the tie and looks at it before he smooths down his suit jacket. “Aren’t you going to ask me why?”

“Are they going to bury you in that tie today? Because that’s the only reason why I would give a damn about it.”

He chuckles deeply and says, “Not likely.”

“Then I don’t care,” I scoff.

“You will.” I finally tune him out and respond to an email from my manager. From the corner of my eye, he pulls out his phone and types something on it. I want to ask him why he’s annoying me here when he has a conglomerate to run, but I don’t want him to think that I care or that his presence affects me.

No one says a word for several minutes. It’s like we’re trying to see who blinks first, and I refuse to let it be me. The bell rings again, and I leave him in my office to answer the door. I hear his footsteps once I have the door open.

“Ms. Nia Nash?” a young woman asks. When I nod, she says. “You’ve been served.” She slaps a large manila envelope in my hand and leaves before I can utter a word.

I can feel my world cracking, and I know who’s responsible. I slam the door shut and practically collide with him when I turn around. He crosses his arms and stares down at the envelope. I rip it open, and it confirms every thought I’ve had since that woman handed it to me and fucked my life up.

I flip the page and scan it before letting out a guttural sound. I toss the lawsuit in his face and run to the kitchen. I grab the big kitchen knife and take menacing steps toward him.

He easily grasps my wrist with one hand and takes the knife from me with his other. He walks past me and puts the knife back in the wooden block. He does it with so little effort you’d hardly think I just threatened his life. I try to go around him to get another knife, but he turns and blocks me with his body.

“Let me know when you tire yourself out,” he says almost as if he’s bored.

“You son of a bitch,” I hiss. “You think you can take my son away from me? I’ll see you and your entire family in hell first.” I start to pound my fists against his chest until he wraps both of his hands around them.

“I know I can,” he says. “I tried, Nia. I tried to do things your way. I tried to play nicely, and what did I get? I got shitted on. I’m through being the good guy. It’s—"

“You’re through being thegoodguy? How delusional are you?”

“It’s not in my DNA, and I’m done going against my true nature,” he says as if he didn’t hear my questions.

“All of this is because I won’t let you take Carter off to God knows where for a few hours? You’re that petty, Paradise?” I manage to pull my wrists out of his hands and smack him hard across the face. He barely flinches.

“That’s the last time you will strike me.” His voice is too low. Too deadly. “Do you hear me? That’s the last time you will do that.”

I stomp on his foot, and he lets my hand go. I’m barefoot, so that hurt me too. I manage to slap him again, but he grabs both my wrists and pulls me to him. When I continue to fight, he pushes me against the wall and raises both my hands above my head. He presses his body into mine, rendering me completely immobile while I continue to pant like a dehydrated puppy.

I can feel his rapid heartbeat against my body. Worse, he’s aroused, and I can feel that too. I look up, and our eyes collide. For a few moments, I remember everything we’ve shared. I see it all flash before my eyes, from the day we met until the day I received his text message ending us. My memories betray me as I remember how great it truly was that year.

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