Bared: A King's Hart Novel Book 3 (BWWM)

VIII. Some Black Woman

Pasta and cupcakes are perfect with the right person. For me, that right person was sitting across from me with a fork full of pasta at her beautiful lips. For the first time since watching and holding her sleeping body this morning, I was at peace.

I needed food and she needed to hear my story. We sat at the dining table across from each other, a bottle of unopened sat beside our empty glasses. I tried not to freak her out by staring too hard for too long, but it was difficult because my eyes were starved for her, ravenous.

Without a stitch of makeup, her hair tousled about her face and the white of her shirt dress striking against her brown skin, she was stunning and a sight I could get used to her being here with me every night.

I told her about my meeting with Ambrose and what he thought about her being followed. She didn't seem to convinced when I told her that she might have imagined it.  I was certain it even offended her in some way.

I very nearly vacuumed my plate clean. "This is something else," I told her biting into her pasta. "I can tell Adelaide didn't make this."

She gave me an alarmed look and I waved her off. "No I mean. . . different hands, different taste."

She smiled and said, "Ms. Adelaide helped me out alot so..." She deflected my compliment.

"Well it's delicious, just like I knew it would be."

"Thank you Mr. King," she said smiling around a mouthful of food.

We had fallen into a comfortable silence before I decided it was time to share. Wiping my lips I sat back in the chair with a heavy release of air and let it all hang out. Here goes a whole lot of nothing.

"A few short years ago, my wife, Emma King died in an automobile accident.

Nuri went completely still listening yet completely guarded. Her dark eyes snapped up to me no doubt searching for some truth in reason. I kept at it.

"Things weren't going well between us, you see... we wanted different things -- or rather, she didn't want what I wanted."

"What do you mean?"

" ...children. I wanted them she didn't." The small child in Emma's arms sending stabs of pain at my chest. I reached up to rub at the spot.

Nuri's wide eyes grew wider and pity encroached around them.

"I don't mean to be a fucking cliche I swear," I said throwing the napkin on my empty plate, the irony of that statement and my pitiful situation not last for me.

Clearing her throat she said, "You didn't discuss children before marriage?"

"We got married after knowing each other for six months. We didn't get to discuss much of anything really. Come to think of it I must have been on crack or drugged up or something." I wasn't really thinking clearly back than while we were together. 

"You were very much in love," she said shrugging. "To marry someone after mere months of knowing... only love and the strongest of passion could exist between the both of you."

"Oh ... that was true. I think I might have loved that woman on site and convinced myself she would be the one I spent my entire life with."

Nuri looked away from me, denying me her eyes. She wasn't very happy to hear this I was sure it, but I had to push on.

"So... we got married and things were amazing-- perfect even. Then, she got pregnant and had an abortion without talking to me about it. I found out looking through the mail one day. There were all sort of baby magazines coming in and letter about life insurance for children. I didn't understand and questioned her about it. She told me she had gotten rid of it."