PROLOGUE
NAOMI
Not again. That's all that ran through my mind as Vick rushed me to the hospital. Ten weeks into my pregnancy, and here I was again, miscarrying. I didn't need a doctor to tell me the awful truth that burned my soul.
The bleeding was so heavy, I was sure Vick's seats were ruined. This was the second damn time. My first miscarriage seemed to be an unfortunate accident. Now that I was going through this again, my mind raced with fear.
After all the tests I’d endured six months ago, my gynecologist swore that there was no viable reason I couldn't conceive and carry a baby to term. Believing her, Vick and I tried again. Here we were, going down the same road.
"Vick, I'm so sorry," I cried. He was behind the steering wheel, quiet, wracked with fear and grief.
"It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be fine," he stressed.
If only I believed him. Closing my eyes, I turned my attention toward the window and cried as the cramps wracked my body. I didn't remember it hurting this bad the last time. The mental trauma of miscarrying caused me worse pain than these cramps. What kind of woman would I be if I couldn't conceive a child? This would only add to the myriad of issues my parents had with me.
Thankfully, I had Vick by my side. He was understanding in a way I couldn't grasp. He held my hand even as he drove, soothing me with his soft voice. We'd been together for a little over a year now, and he was the best man I'd ever met. At twenty-five years old, I was ready to settle down with him. Although he hadn't asked me to marry him yet, Vick and I often discussed marriage.
Vick worked as an architect and owned his own company. I met him at a team event and was instantly attracted to him. He was a few years older than I was, but he was easily the sweetest man I'd ever met.
Me not being able to give him the child he so desperately wanted was sure to cause a rift between us at some point. He was being calm and sweet now, but I felt the other shoe about to drop.
"Vick, you can't possibly think that this is okay."
Vick's mother's voice carried into my hospital room, bringing me out of the light sleep I was under. Because of the heavy bleeding I’d sustained, it was recommended that I have a D & C procedure, which I was now recovering from. In the next few hours, the doctor would release me to go home.
Vick and his mother, Mrs. Cole, stood just outside the cracked door, conversing in hushed tones, bringing my attention to them.
"Mom," Vick sighed, "will you please stop?"
Mrs. Cole tsked. "Hell no, I won't. This girl is not even your type. I was nice about it because you seemed really in love with her. But you're an established Black man that rubs shoulders with high-class ass people. Does she ever wonder why you don't invite her to family dinners or work parties? Does she understand she will never be accepted in your world?"
Vick cynically chuckled.
"Exactly. Besides, the fact that she acts like such a freaking tomboy, she has the attitude of a hood rat."
Vick scoffed. "Mom, are you serious? Naomi is beautiful—"
"But she's not for you, son. When will you understand that? Beauty doesn't mean shit if you open your mouth and garbage comes out. And she's around all those women all the time. Doesn't that bother you?"
"They're her teammates," Vick defended.
Mrs. Cole chuckled. "Yeah, okay. You can't possibly be that naïve, Victor. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck... you know that saying. Naomi may lose these babies on purpose because she doesn't want a kid. Has that crossed your mind?"
Vick laughed. "You're crazy," he muttered.
"I'm not!" she harshly whispered. "You need a woman that's going to complement you, not make you embarrassed to evenbring her around. This is no better than what you're already going through. Do I need to remind you?"
Vick's heavy sigh found its way to me. "No, Mom, but I love her."
"Fuck love, Victor Cole. I taught you better than that."
I couldn't listen to it anymore. Tuning them out, I said a quick prayer to center myself. Ain't it funny how everything happened for a reason, even when you didn't see it? I was wallowing in sadness for losing my baby. Yet here my nigga stood, allowing his mother to say evil shit about me, and he wasn't doing shit but taking it. I lost all the respect that I had for Vick at that moment. Why the fuck was she up here, anyway?
Minutes later, his muthafuckin' ass had nothing to say as he strolled back into my room as if I didn't just overhear the bullshit that he let his mother say about me... about our baby.
"Leave," I told him, blinking back the tears I felt for the baby I'd just lost.
"What?" he asked, confusion lining his beautiful, milky brown face. This was a man I thought was the sexiest, smartest nigga I knew. From the way he wore his hair cut low, showing just a hint of his curly hair, to the way his strong jaw line was perfectly chiseled, I thought I loved this man.
