“I’ll call her in a bit. That’s my baby. I just don’t want to bring this shit into her life, . . . the shit that we do. She’s too good for all this, and I have to protect her from it, from me.”
“Does she know that you’ve killed niggas?” Maurice asked.
“Hell no. She sees nothing but the good in me. I don’t know what to do with that. If I fuck this up, I will never forgive myself. She’s been hurt, and sometimes, I second-guess myself about why I pursued her in the first place. But at the time, I just had to have her.”
“And you don’t now?” Maurice asked.
“That hasn’t changed. It’s just that I didn’t give a damn about anything before but getting her. Now that something like this has jumped off, it’s got me questioning if I’m what’s best for her.”
“You’re all that girl needs, man. I saw the two of you at the island, and I talked with her family. They all feel like you’re the best thing that has ever happened to her, and I know that she’sthe best thing that’s happened to you. She needs you as much as you need her,” Maurice professed.
I bobbed my head. “I hope so, man. I hope so,” I repeated.
16
DELANEY
“You have a guest, Delaney.”
“Who is it, Rebecca?”
“Mr. Settles.”
“I don’t want to see him. I thought that I explained that to you all a while ago.”
“I know, Delaney, but he refuses to leave. I told him that, but he’s adamant about seeing you.”
“Call the police.”
She sighed. “Okay.”
I ended the call but immediately called back. It wasn’t fair that I brought the staff into the problems that I had with my ex-husband.
“Becca?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be down. Don’t call the police.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll let him know.”
I could hear the relief in her voice. When I ended the call, I inhaled deeply, held it for several seconds, and slowly exhaled. A quick stop in the restroom was necessary for me to check my appearance and get my act together. I needed strength and a cold ass shoulder to deal with my ex with.
It bothered me that he was still popping up in my life after we were divorced. I wouldn’t be mad if I never saw him again, yet here he was once more.
I headed downstairs to the lobby. I walked to the section where he sat in front of a collection of African paintings from the eighteenth century. He appeared to be deep into assessing them, but he acknowledged my presence without turning around.
“Thank you for not turning me away.”
“Oh, but I did. I even told her to call the police.”
“I know. She told me, but I’m thankful you changed your mind.”
“What is it that you want, Clayton?”
“I know that I don’t have a right to tell you how to live your life. I’ve done a lot of things during our marriage that I regretted. You were a good woman?—”
“I am a good woman.”
