Page 56 of Abel

“Sir, how are you going to transport all that on your bike?” The cashier asks.

“This ain’t my first rodeo, kid.” I smirk, placing what I can in my backpack and tossing it over my shoulders. Next, I take the remaining four bags and attach them to my handles. The last two, I hook on two clips on the edge of my motorcycle shield and take off.

Driving slow isn’t something I know how to do as I race down the street, hoping to God she’s home. If she’s not there, I have no problem waiting. Thankfully I plugged her address into my GPS before I took off.

The cool wind whips across my face, attempting to dull the heat traveling all over my body at the thought of seeing her again.

There’s so much I want to say to her.

To ask her.

Even though I need answers, I can’t forget that I am the President of The Anarchy Saints. Now is not the time for me to get soft behind some woman.

She’s not just any woman, she could betheone.

If that were the case, I don’t think she would have left me the way she did. I still have no clue why Courtney didn’t bother coming to our wedding or even tellin’ me it was over before I went through all the trouble of making her dream day come true. So, why would Ivy be any different?

Ten minutes later, and I’m steering my bike down West Craven Avenue. Brownstones line each side of the street making it look crowded. Vehicles line the sidewalk as people walk around, minding their own business.

Slowing down so I don’t miss it, I stop when the GPS announces my arrival. “Arrived. 521 West Craven Avenue.” I pull my bike into an empty spot in front of the building and take off my helmet.

Grabbing all the bags of goodies, I head for the front door. Before I even push the ring doorbell, someone speaks. “Hi, may I help you.”

“I need to see, Ivy, is she here?” They go radio silent as I shuffle the bags around, trying to steady my balance. “Hello? Is Ivy here or not?” I’m getting agitated from being ignored.

Seconds go by before I hear the door unlocking, and it’s being pulled open. “I’m so sorry, I was on my way down to let you in.” The guy from her doctor’s appointment says, out of breath like he just ran a mile to get here. Looking from me to all the bags I’m carrying, he says, “What’s all this?”

“Do you mind helping me with them? I brought them for Ivy.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet of you. Here, let me help.” He says, reaching out and grabbing a few. “Why don’t you come in? She’s not here though.”

“Where is she?” I ask, walking inside their home, admiring the foyer. He shuts the door, spinning around to face me, deciding if he should tell me or not. “Look, I don’t mean to come off rude or anything like that, I need to speak with her.”

“Who exactly are you besides her doctor?” He asks, a smirk now replacing the paper thin line of his lips. “You’re also the guy she banged in the bathroom of that dive club we went to.”

“Fuck me! We didn’t bang in the bathroom, we fucked, alright? Jeez.” I mumble, waiting for him to tell me where I can put this stuff. When he doesn’t, I ask, “Is there some place I can put this?”

“Over here. Whatever that is smells divine.” He moans.

“I went to Josephine’s Bakery and bought Ivy one of everything since I didn’t know what she liked. I didn’t want to come over here empty- Wait, aren’t you her boyfriend?”

His eyes widen in surprise as he tries to recover. “Yes, I am, and if you’re wondering, we had just taken a break, is why she allowed you to stick your penis inside her. Nothing more, nothing less. She said it didn’t mean anything, and we are thriving as a couple again.” He says, and I don’t know if he’s trying to convince me or himself.

“Oh, so you’re the asshole I need to kill for breaking up with her on Christmas. You’re the reason for her tears and the need to make the pain go away.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” He says, holding up a hand, “I didn’t say all of that.” He lets out a frustrated breath, running a hand through his hair, he says, “This is all getting out of hand. You really need to talk to Ivy.”

“That’s why I’m here.” I point out.

“Duh, but she’snot. She won’t be back until later.”“Where is she?”

“She works part time at City Harvest, creates art for her showings, in addition to going to school.”

“Damn, does this girl ever stop?” I ask, even more amazed than before at how much of a hard working woman she is.

“No. It’s gotten worse since she found out she was pregnant.” Walking further into his home, he leads me to the living room, motioning for me to take a seat.

“How so?” I ask, flopping down.

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