To Break a Vow Read online

  “Honestly? I don't know where the fuck you came from, and I don't like that shit.”

  I nodded, fully expecting something along these lines.

  “Why does it matter where I came from? As long as I'm not mistreating your son, what's the point?”

  He turned to me and I could see the anger on his pinched face. “It matters because I said it matters. I don't like not knowing what the hell's going on around here. I have to hear out of the blue that Tonya had gotten married, and I hadn't even known she was dating anybody. You don't understand; to know that she’d had a man that I didn't even know around my son for only God knows how long without even telling me… I didn't even move Ava in with me until I had a conversation with Tonya, and she already knew Ava because we all went to school together. It didn’t matter, though, because I gave her that respect. I'm pissed that she didn't give me the same amount of respect that I gave her. That's what beef is about.”

  I observed him silently for a moment, took in his heavy breathing and clenched fists. Was this about respect or was it about control?

  “So, just to be clear, your beef with me doesn't have anything to do with you still wanting Tonya. Is that right?”

  He jerked back, face twisted with mock disgust, but I saw the moment of panic in his eyes. Gotcha, bitch.

  “What the—? No. Hell no!”

  “No, it doesn't have anything to do with you still wanting her, or no, you don't still want her? I just want to be clear.”

  “It doesn't—I don't—” he growled, dragging both his hands down his face before looking me dead on in the face, man-to-man.

  “I don't want Tonya. My issue is exactly what I just told you. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  I nodded. He lied to my face just now, but I let it pass because it looked like he was also lying to himself and not just to me. Hell, the way he said that sounded like it was practiced, like maybe this was a conversation he and his fiancée had more than once. And if that was the case, oh well; he brought the shit on himself. As far as what his issue was...

  “To set the record straight, I didn't meet Wisdom until Tonya and I were already married.”

  His eyes widened in surprise, and I could see the question written all over his face.

  “That's the truth. I hadn't met any of her family except for her two sisters before we got married, and that's because we hadn’t known each other for very long.”

  “So, you're telling me—damn, Cassie ain’t make that shit up?” It sounded like he was talking to himself, so I waited for his eyes to lift off the floor where they had fallen when I made my confession. “You're telling me that you asked a woman you had never met before to marry you.”

  “Actually, I wasn't telling you that, but yeah, that's what happened.”

  “How the hell do you ask a stranger to marry you? Nigga, are you crazy?”

  I smirked. “Nah, just impulsive.”

  Crossing his arms across his chest, he shook his head. “Yeah, but Tonya isn’t. She never makes a move without overthinking it to death.”

  He stared at me with furrowed brows, looking for answers to his unspoken questions—answers I didn’t have. I couldn’t tell him what it was about me that made Tonya doing something that was so far out of her character that her entire family was taken aback. I had no idea how she operated before I met her, and honestly, I didn’t care either. It was what she did after I came into her life that was all that mattered, but it was obvious that Evan felt differently.

  The door to the restroom creaked open, and Wisdom’s head appeared in the gap.

  “Is everything okay? The food came. Mommy sent me to tell you.”

  I nodded. Tonya could have just sent me a text about the food. More than likely, she’d noticed Evan follow me into the restroom and wanted to make sure nothing crazy was going down. “Yeah, man. Everything’s good, right?” I eyed Evan who immediately plastered a smile on his face.

  “Oh, yeah. We’re just chopping it up.” He walked over to the door, pulling it all the way open and swinging his arm around Wisdom’s neck. “Man-to-man, you know. Just getting some things understood.”

  Wisdom’s eyes swung between me and his father, and I shot him a wink in hopes of softening the tiny wrinkle that had appeared in between his brows. The last thing he needed to be worried about was my relationship with his father, but I appreciated that he had even a modicum of concern about the issue. It showed me that he cared enough about me to want Evan and me to get along. That was enough for me to maintain a cool head, but it helped that Evan obviously wanted to maintain a positive image for his son’s sake. It didn’t benefit me to begrudge him that, so I followed the two of them back to the dining area and slid into my seat next to Tonya with a smile on my face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When a Dick In The Ass Is Worth Two In The Bush

  It didn’t take much for me to shove my conversation with my cousin to the back burner of my mind. As much as I loved her, I had to take Danielle’s advice with a grain of salt. Despite being recently wed, she tended to be jaded about marriage, and really, I couldn’t expect anything less from her since settling divorces was how she made her bread and butter. She didn’t pull in six figures a year from people splitting up just to turn around and think that the institution wasn’t flawed. Hell, I was still suspicious of her own nuptials, and I’d witnessed with my own eyes how good she and Johnathan were together years before they decided to tie the knot.

  My budding relationship with Jereth felt too good for me to dwell on what I didn’t know about him. What I did know was how he made me feel, how sexy I felt when he looked at me with an insatiable hunger. How excited I was when he’d planned an outing for the three of us and it was obvious that including my son hadn’t been an afterthought. I know that when Wisdom shoved his head into the crook of my arm as me and Tasha made breakfast for everyone early one fall Sunday morning and rested his head on my shoulder as he told me that he liked Jereth, no one else’s opinion mattered to me from that moment on. Call me a dumb bitch—which Toy absolutely did do, right before I stuck my middle finger up her nose—but I had too much going on in my life to be worried about details that didn’t affect Wisdom’s or my daily existence.

  Or that had been the case, at least. I was able to go a few months after that conversation with Danielle before it became glaringly obvious to me what she had been trying to say. On our nine-month anniversary, Jereth surprised me with a party. Not only was it a surprise because I didn’t know about it, but who the hell celebrates nine months of marriage? It was wild and unexpected and made me want to throw my ass at him as soon as we were alone.

  All of my family and friends were there, including my crazy uncles and aunties. Even Evan and Ava were in attendance, which shocked the shit out of me. The maturity of it all solidified that I would be giving up my draws when I got Jereth back to the house. The turning point for me was when Jeremiah came out of the crowd. I hadn’t seen him since the day Jereth and I got married, and his presence was an even bigger surprise than the party itself. But nothing was more surprising than what he said to me after he pulled me into a tight hug.

  “Congratulations on dealing with that knucklehead for nine whole months.”

  Laughing, I returned his hug with a shake of his head. “Don’t do my husband like that.”

  He grinned, mahogany skin glowing and looking finer than any man had a right to be. Jereth came from good stock; that was for damn sure. “My bad, Mrs. Hawkins.”

  It was impossible to do anything but smile at this man. “Tonya will be just fine, thank you very much.”

  “Oh, my bad.” He glanced over at his brother, and I followed his line of vision to see Jereth standing with my father and my uncles Cepheus and Earl, bent over laughing. The sight made me smile.

  “Tonya.”

  My brows rose, questioning, at the suddenly somber voice that Jeremiah had taken on. “I’m sorry that my parents aren’t here to congratulate you. You deserve that.”


  His declaration caught me off guard, and I instinctively started to reassure him that it was fine, but he cut me off.

  “No, don’t defend him. Look,” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shoved his hands in the pockets of his slacks, “I love my brother, but I just wanted you to know that not everyone is okay with this.”

  “What—” Before I could finish my question, he pressed a kiss to my cheek and walked away. I watched as he approached Jereth and hugged him before disappearing into the crowd.

  That bizarre exchange stayed on my mind the rest of the night until we got home and I was distracted by sex. It returned the following day when Jereth had to leave for a quick business trip. Well, he told me it was a business trip, but after talking with Jeremiah, I began to wonder if that was true. I couldn't stop thinking about him saying that I deserved for their parents to be there. Why weren’t they, and what was Jereth doing that Jeremiah wasn’t okay with? Was whatever it was the same reason that the Hawkins didn’t come around?

  Outside of infrequent mentions of his brother, Jereth rarely spoke about his family, so I assumed that they didn’t have a good relationship. The assumption aligned with him randomly getting married in Vegas and no one beating down his door to express their outrage at missing the event. At the time, I knew enough people who were voluntarily estranged from their families, so I simply chalked it up to a similar situation and filed it away for a future discussion once we knew each other better. Now that Jeremiah had brought it to the forefront of my mind, I found myself unable to put it off for another day.

  There could be a perfectly good explanation for why I’d never met Jereth’s parents, and I began to analyze every conversation we’d had from the beginning up to now to see if I’d missed any hints. The only thing I deduced, however, was that he was good at avoiding questions, and I didn't know as much about him as I felt like I should.

  But on the other hand, what if something was wrong and I just couldn’t see it? What if he was crying on the inside because his family had turned him away for marrying me instead of the woman they’d picked out for him? What if Jeremiah was on his parent’s side and said that to me to plant a seed of doubt so that I’d leave Jereth and he’d have no choice but to marry the evil preacher’s daughter?

  But on the other other hand, what if the issue was bigger than family squabbles? Like, what if he had a whole other family that his mother knew about and that's why I never met his mom because how do you introduce a second wife to your mother when you have a whole-ass wife and family? You can’t. Or what if he was some kind of undercover agent for the FBI or CIA, and he was spying on somebody that I know, and he only married me as his cover? Oh, god.

  If he'd asked me to marry him as part of his job, and I spent all this time falling in lo—developing deep, tender feelings for him and giving him every part of myself, I just don't know what I would do. I've read enough books and seen enough movies to understand that when the mission is over, he just picks up and leaves without a backward glance. Have I given myself to a secret agent this whole time? Oh, lord!

  If he’s a secret agent then who is he watching? Who around me is committing government-level crimes that require undercover surveillance? I can’t even fathom. What if my parents were drug lords who used the coffee shop as a cover to clean their dirty money and Jereth was directed to infiltrate their ranks?

  Okay. I needed to calm down.

  I was getting too deep into this thriller fiction novel I’d concocted. My parents aren’t drug lords. They were very generous with their money, and if they were rolling in—likely dirty—millions then I’d like to think that they would have at least paid off my house for me instead of letting me split a mortgage with my sisters. Unless allowing us to accumulate debt was an attempt to throw off the trail…

  Or! I gasped as another thought entered my mind. What if the reason Jereth's been so reluctant to share his past with me is because he's transgender, and his past is him living as a completely different person? What if he had come out to his family, and they disowned him and that's why he never mentions them or talks about going to visit them? My eyes widened at the tragic thought. If that's the reason, I would feel like complete shit for being pissed about something that was really out of his control. I mean, I would still be angry with him for not being honest with me from the jump, but the circumstances would call for my understanding. That would also explain why he’s latched on to my family so much—especially my parents—because his own family abandoned him.

  I was on the verge of crying my eyes out at the thought of Jereth being turned away and abandoned by his family—but especially his mother because he felt like he was born into the wrong body—when my bedroom door opened, and the man on my mind walked into my bedroom, looking as fine as ever in a pair of fitted maroon slacks and tan vest over a black button-down.

  He’d been away for a few days but had called me a few hours ago from the airport to let me know he was on his way back to me. Setting my eyes on him reminded me that there were other pressing matters at hand besides his close-lipped manner, the more prominent of those matters being the number of days that had passed since we’d made love. We’d just passed our one year anniversary, and I sometimes felt like it was ridiculous to still desire him as much as I did.

  From my perch in the middle of the bed, I watched as he closed the door behind him and crossed the room to his side of the bed, slowly shedding his clothes while watching me watch him remove every article. When he stood naked before me, he opened the top drawer of his nightstand and reached inside briefly before removing his hand and pushing it closed. In four, short strides, he was standing at the foot of the bed looking at me, with whatever he had grabbed from his drawer clasped tightly in his fist. My heart hammered in my chest at what I saw in his eyes. There was a scorching heat that threatened to melt me from the inside, a burning desire that reflected what I’d been feeling from the moment he stepped into the room, and there, hidden among the chestnut irises was that same thing that I’d clumsily pushed from my thoughts earlier.

  That was what made my breathing suddenly turn shallow and the crotch of my panties become soaked, and despite the dozens of wayward thoughts running around in my head—the many scenarios that I just stressed over only seconds before—my pulse quickened, and something heavy dropped into my lower belly before sliding further down south to settle in my throbbing womb.

  Heavily lidded eyes seared into me where I sat. “Aren't you going to welcome me home?”

  My initial instinct was to scramble to my knees and shuffle toward him to show him just how welcome he was—preferably with my mouth on some part of his body—but I hesitated, my thoughts from before weighing me down, pinning me to the bed like cement.

  “Are you trans?” The words tumbled out of my mouth, unbidden, and my face heated with embarrassment. That definitely wasn’t how I had planned to ask him. I hadn’t thought it through just yet, but something along the lines of sensitive and understanding came to mind.

  His brows furrowed and he reached forward, wrapping a hand around each of my ankles and pulling me to the edge of the bed.

  “What?”

  Shuddering from the feel of his palms on my skin, I stared up at the canopy of my bed as my thighs fell open of their own accord. “You know? Trans. Were you…born a woman?”

  Determined fingers skated up my thighs and underneath the hem of my over-sized t-shirt to grip my panties, snatching them from my body in one smooth motion and baring me open so that he could clearly see how wet I already was for him. “Nope. I'm pretty sure it says male on my birth certificate.”

  Damn, there goes that theory.

  As he began to move, I tried again. “Are you a secret agent?” When he froze, I hurriedly added, “If you can’t say, just blink once for yes and twice for no.”

  He blinked three times and climbed onto the bed, and my mind stuttered at the sight of his beautiful, nude body coming toward me. Instead of settling
between my spread thighs, he lay against me, rubbing his body against mine and eliciting a moan from me as the hard planes of his chest scraped against the sensitive peaks of my stiff nipples. Balancing on his elbows, he hovered over me while pressing his lips to mine in a sweet kiss.

  “I missed you,” he whispered into my mouth, and I’m pretty sure I murmured something similar in return but I can’t be too sure.

  Straining my neck, I stretched toward him in an attempt to deepen our connection, needing to feel more of him. With a flick of my tongue, I licked at the seam of his closed mouth and breathed a sigh of satisfaction when he opened to me, allowing our tongues to tangle in an erotic dance that stole the breath from my lungs. While we kissed, he ground his body into mine, rubbing his hardened erection into the crevice between my thighs, slipping and sliding on the slickness that had formed between my folds. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs around him, trying to anchor him to me, attempting to bring him closer, so much closer, and just when it felt like the tip of his dick was about to slid inside of me, he pulled away, sitting back on his haunches and staring down at me with eyes damn near black with lust.

  “Baby—” I began, ready to question his next move, but stopped short when I saw him present three items from behind his back.

  If it had been possible for my pussy to become wetter than it was, it would have happened when my eyes fell upon the small, palm-sized bottle of lubricant, condom, and slender, vibrating dildo he held in his hands. Those must have been the items he grabbed from his drawer.

  He placed the dildo by my knee before rolling on the condom. As the snick of the bottle being opened filled my ears, I voiced my last question.

  “Are you married?”

  Looking up from his task of slathering the lube over his condom-covered dick—a move that instantly clued me in to what we were about to do—he grinned at me, a silly, gleeful thing that made my heart hurt.