Asher's Sonnet (Smith Pact Duo Book 2) Read online

  “I mean Momma.” She squeezes my shoulder and guides me inside.

  “I don’t mind Miss Rhonda if that’s more comfortable for you. Would you like something to drink?” She gestures to the kitchen walking towards the couch where I see her purse.

  “No, thank you. It’s not a comfort thing I just need to get used to it. It feels more official when I call you Momma.”

  “Official?” Her perfectly manicured eyebrow arches higher.

  “Yes, like I’m part of the family.”

  “That’s because you are.” She spins around to face me and her eyes sweep from my head to toe. She’s doing it again. That motherly laser eye thing reaches my soul. “Let’s sit for a second.”

  Oh damn. I lower my purse to the floor. Now, Miss Rhonda will have me pouring out my life story, crazy college escapades, and how I like my Thanksgiving desserts without the use of a single ounce of liquor or much probing. She has that natural ability to make you feel at ease, and I don’t know if I can tell Asher’s mother the doubts I’m harboring in my heart, but I sit. The truth is, I want to talk about it, Asher thinks I’m overreaching. My parents think I rushed in. And I can’t tell her everything, because this is his mother.

  Rhonda sits bottled water on the table, in front of the decorated box of Kleenex. That is a sign, Lord she’s about to fix my life right now. She sits on the other end of the couch tucked into the corner leaning against the back cushion. I do the same.

  “How are your parents?”

  “They’re okay.” I guess.

  “I hope we can expect a visit from them sometime this summer. I’d love to meet them.”

  “I hope so too.”

  “So they’re still not on board with your marriage?”

  “Not quite.” I drop my eyes, her probing eyes have me ready to tell the whole truth. They wanted me to annul the marriage and return home. They think it’s a fluke. They think Asher is my way of coping with getting laid off.

  “Well, it’s only been a few months. Give them time.” Her soft hand rubs my forearm supporting me more than my own mother.

  “When are they going to get that I’m an adult? It’s my life and my mistake to make.”

  “You think your marriage to Asher is a mistake?”

  My eyes shoot up to hers. There’s no judgment there. I feel like a fist is gripping my heart.

  “No.” Maybe.

  “What is it, baby?” She squeezes.

  “Nothing and everything, you know.” I brush away a tear. I think not knowing what’s bothering me is worse than admitting they could be right. “This all is just not what I expected. The move. Not working. Asher has a full life, and I’m just here.”

  I don’t need Asher’s money. It’s not having his time that’s my undoing. We traveled back and forth during the few months of dating, so it was a week here, a week there. But the honeymoon is officially over. And this is our life.

  “Baby you will find your way. My son is…” She glances away as if searching for the right words.

  Waiting for insight into my own husband. The man I’ve vowed to love until death. But Rhonda has a lifetime of memories to help me figure out this man of mine. How can he be so loving yet so distant? And there it is, another peg for the angst I’m feeling.

  We lived separate lives, and the distance between New York and Texas made this yearning feel connected to the physical distance. After living as husband and wife for five months, the distance is a very present third party in our marriage.

  “Jazz.” She rubs my arm bringing me back to our conversation.

  “I’m sorry Miss Rho—Momma. My thoughts got the best of me.” I correct myself forcing myself to return her smile. And I notice the worry etched on her beautiful face.

  “Jazz baby, I make it a point to not meddle in my children’s affairs. And you are now my fourth baby.” She smiles and her words warm my heart. “I’ll tell you this and leave the rest to Asher.”

  I nod, adjusting to lean closer.

  “My husband, his father, groomed Asher to be a little man before his time. I didn’t like it. His infamous retort was ‘It takes a man to raise a man.’ But my husband toured nearly nonstop through his death. So, Asher saw very little of us as husband and wife day to day. It was the three of us. He, Yuki, and I. And somewhere along the way my little boy became the man of the house.”

  That is what I’ve admired the most about Asher. He loves them. He doesn’t bark at a single request. And it’s one of the reasons I feel so safe with him.

  She glances down at her lap. “I’m not proud of that. It’s not how I wanted my son to grow up. But what’s done is done. As a result, I know he will provide for you. He will love you. He will protect you.”

  But will he give me his heart, fully? The voice in my head could have been a blimp hanging over Rhonda’s head because it voiced the ache, the angst, the unsettled feeling hovering over my life like a dark cloud.

  And I know that Rhonda can read it loud and clear as her probing eyes lock with mine.

  “What do I do Momma?” I probe back.

  Her head shakes in a slow, noncommittal fashion. “Love him. I have never seen this Asher in my life. He’s smiling, softening his harsh edges, and it’s your love that’s revealing the man beneath his armor.”

  “Any advice?” I ask thinking of the trip I’m planning.

  “Have you heard that saying about attracting more bees with honey than vinegar?” She chuckles.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that is our Asher. He is unpredictable when forced to do anything. He will do the opposite of what you want just to prove a point.” She shakes her head. “I remember he had to be about eight years old. He was still adjusting to Yuki moving in. The two got into an argument as kids do. And I tried to force him to apologize. We all were struggling to find a sense of balance, and the constant fighting only made it worse. But that little boy refused. I grounded him for what seemed like forever.” She says the last part more to herself than me. “Asher did not budge. He refused to speak to either of us. Eventually, we declared a truce. I think he would have held out through graduation had I kept trying to push him.” She laughs.

  My heart drops the more she laughs. I swallow, toss a fake laugh of my own in while keeping my eyes on her. Did he tell her?

  “Oh goodness look at the time.” Rhonda stands. “Excuse me, baby.”

  I nod, and she heads to the back of the house. I’m not proud of my behavior. The line between sanity and insanity is fine when it comes to us. And we know it. It’s polarizing and magnetic. It makes us like fire in bed and cool as ice when we disagree. It made accepting his proposal as natural as breathing because he’s like an open book until we began living in the same house. He’s still an open book, not withholding anything, but it’s more like those old school invisible color sheets, I need a special marker to discover the contents of his pages.

  The chime of my phone tells me the caller.

  “Hey, babe!”

  “Hey yourself.” His voice pulls me back into our cocoon. “Are you still with Momma?”

  “Yes, we’re at the house. What time is it?” I pull the phone from my ear. It’s almost four o’clock. “Wow, we’ve talked for hours.”

  “You sat on the couch, didn’t you?” The humor in his voice breaks the cloud hovering over my mood.

  “Shut up!” And we laugh until I’m crying for all the right reasons. “What is it about this couch? Your momma got some special powers or something.”

  “I told you. Stand at the door if you don’t want to sit in her confessional.” Our laughter dies down. “Are you better after talking with her?”

  “A little.” I reach for a Kleenex and dab my eyes.

  “Babe, we’ll be alright. Give it time.”

  I nod. Asher can’t see it. But I’m done—I’m all talked out.

  “What’s this good news you have?”

  “I’m not saying over the phone. I’m waiting for you at the spot with Dylan. And
hurry. I’m about to text Yuki too.”

  “Let me check with Momma. I think she has an appointment. And then I’m on my way.”

  “Love you, My Lady.”

  “Love you too.” I disconnect and stare at the phone. Give it time. The spot is a grill we frequent weekly for one reason or another. The four of us, Asher, Dylan, Yuki and I have made it our honorary meeting spot—temporarily until Smith & Jameson opens. It has good food and decent beer. I stand and walk to the back of the house calling for Momma. She steps out of her bedroom. “Where are you going?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” She winks before sliding into the bathroom and starts freshening up her makeup. “ I have a charity event tonight. Sorry about lunch. I owe you.”

  “You look gorgeous. You might catch you someone tonight Momma.”

  “Chile’, please. I’m past the catching days. I wouldn’t know what to do with it if I caught it.”

  “Yeah right. I have a feeling you’d figure it out.” I laugh at the mischievous twinkle in her eye.

  Rhonda is younger than my parents, and I don’t have the full story on her deceased husband. But she seems much too young and vibrant to not have a special someone in her life.

  “Mind if I ask you a personal question?” I lean against the doorway as she applies highlighter to her perfect cheekbones.

  “Sure baby.”

  “One day, will you tell me more about your husband?” She freezes. Our eyes lock in the reflection of the mirror.

  “One day. After, you hear more from Asher.” She places the brush in the makeup bag, and for the first time, I see a hint of sadness in her eyes. “My husband casts a big shadow over this family. And truthfully it probably affects you more than it does the rest of us.”

  “How so?”

  “Ask Asher. Then you, Yuki and I will have a girl’s night, and I’ll fill in all the gaps.” She kisses my cheek. Then applies a coat of lip gloss on her full lips. “How do I look?”

  “Stunning.” And she does. The royal purple dress clings to her curvy figure. She has a body women pay top dollar for. She could pass for a woman in her late thirties.

  “I’ll take it.” She giggles.

  We laugh our way out of the house and down the driveway. I feel better after talking with her. I wave and head towards the grill to meet Asher and the gang. I’m ready to see my man. Then my phone rings. Not this again.

  I roll my eyes and push the connect button.

  “Jasmine Harrison.” His booming voice fills my car. But hearing his voice pours salt on an open wound with a splash of lemon juice.

  They hired him. I trained him. But he let them ambush me then he took my job.

  “It’s Jasmine Smith,” I correct him.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you, Wesley. Let’s skip the small talk.” Jasmine, the executive, is bubbling to the surface. I’ve missed you, girl!

  “How would you like your job back at SOS?”

  “I’m listening.”

  3

  Double the salary plus a signing bonus and relocation package.

  I park at the grill and sit in the car. SOS must need me bad. Swagged Out Style—SOS—is an international urban fashion magazine. I told Tiff I wasn’t abreast of SOS, but I kept an eye on the industry, and it is shifting. Which I told them before I was canned.

  Wesley managed the print publication, I managed the digital. We were counterparts with an unmatched creative synergy. It was effortless until the industry shifted starting with the decline of print sells. Then the decline of print advertisers. While I managed to double in advertising dollars. I became the “it” woman in the company. But everything has an expiration date.

  The powers that be took notice. They let me expand my staff, increased my budget and I managed to surpass the print revenue between advertisers and online subscriptions. And then I decided to run a double digital cover with the hottest R&B artist in the business right now, Marques Carter, and the football rookie that took his team all the way to the Super Bowl Kendrick “KB” Darius.

  Our website crashed three times trying to manage the influx of readers. And when I proposed to run special print editions with both covers for twice the retail price, my boss was reluctant but approved. That issue surpassed the annual revenue of the print edition in one week. I was on a career high until they decided to “evolve” and merge the departments. On paper Wesley and I were co-directors. But behind closed doors, the good old boys were gunning for me.

  The sound of my phone pulled me from the haze of SOS past.

  “My Lady, where are you?”

  “The parking lot. I’m heading in now.” I reach for my purse on the floor behind the passenger seat. I can hear the chatter of people in the background quiet. “Give me a second, and I’ll be there.”

  “You look beautiful today.” The tenor of his voice lowers.

  I still dropping the purse in my lap. I match his tone. “And how do you know that Mr. Smith, if I recall correctly the last time you saw me I was tangled in our sheets.”

  “Ah…smooth brown skin, twists in our damp satin sheets.”

  And this is how it all starts. Asher and his rhythmic tone, honey-dipped words have my heart doing summersaults in my chest. And my panties moist. I should check my reflection. I dressed to have a quick bite to eat with Momma, and now I’m meeting the gang. A white t-shirt and skinny jeans with ankle boots. Plain but cute. I flip the visor to check my makeup.

  “You don’t need makeup baby.”

  I flip it closed and glance out the windshield. There he is. Six-foot-three-inches of chocolate goodness dressed in a charcoal black suit with his red power tie and the look in his eyes makes me want to skip the grill and take him home.

  Can I have you?

  “Not yet,” he says reading my mind. “But hold that thought.”

  I nod recognizing the promise shining back at me.

  “Come to me, baby.” Before I know it I’m out of the car and in his arms. He scoops me up, and my legs dangle his grip strong and sure. I cradle the back of his neck and snuggle close, placing a kiss there. His stubble tickles my lips.

  “I missed you.” I thought it was me, but it’s Asher.

  “Not more than I missed you.” The ache is thick, and I feel it to my bones.

  His lips find mine. The strong hardness of his lips part mine urgent and sweet as his tongue dips inside. And like a force of nature the walls of our world erect, shielding us from the world. There’s no SOS job offer, endless questions about the state of my marriage. There is only Asher and I. And my weary soul melts. Taking what he offers with an open heart.

  “Get a room!” A voice shouts.

  I pull back and search his heated gaze. “I think we should take this to the house.”

  “Not yet.”

  He hoists me higher, and I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands cradle my butt. He carries me as if I weigh nothing. And I know he won’t let me fall. Ever.

  Is this normal? This crazy, can’t breathe without you kind of love? It can’t be. It must be insanity. Who could live like this?

  “Stop Jazz.”

  “What?”

  “Fighting this is useless. The sooner you stop, the more at ease you’ll be.” He lowers me to the ground. And the veil drops.

  Asher reaches for my hand, lacing my fingers with his. And this is how he claimed me. Asher speaks to storms, and they listen. He moves, and obstacles cease to exist. He walks and crowds part and bask in him. And he’s mine.

  “Let’s get inside.” He leads the way, I take two steps to his one. The foot difference in our height requires my legs to work a little harder to stroll with him, but I make it work.

  He holds the door open, and I walk in stepping to the side. I catch the reflection of my wind-blown curls. They are full and fluffy.

  “We’re over there.” He points to the vacant table.

  We settle at the table. I fill Asher in on my day and some of the conversation with Mom
ma. He listens and nods adding comments here and there. But I take up the bulk of the conversation working my way up to telling him about the trip.

  “So,” I reach for his hand across the table, “I booked us a trip to Cancun.”

  “That sounds nice. When?”

  “A few days.”

  His expression goes blank.

  “Hey, Jazz!” Dylan approaches the table, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

  “Hey. How are you?” I smile over at him.

  “I can’t complain.” He smiles back and Tiff’s plea from this morning for a hookup sounds in my head. But I don’t have the heart to bust her bubble with one, Tiff’s not leaving Kevin, we all know it. And two, I think Dylan is waiting on someone else.

  There she is now. I spot my sister-in-law as she enters the grill. I grew up with four younger brothers, and my marriage to Asher has blessed me with a sister. I can’t wait to get her and Tiff together. We just might burn Austin down to the ground.

  Heads turn as she walks in our direction and Dylan stops mid-sentence, I assume to admire the view. As the creative director of SOS, I would have hired Yuki without hesitation. She’s striking. There is something about her bone structure, complexion, pouty lips, and legs for days. Dylan has every right to be taken with her. She and I are opposites of the same coin.

  Yuki leans in giving me a side hug, ignoring Dylan. Oh, this will be interesting.

  “Hey lady! Any news on your promotion?” I ask ignoring the daggers Dylan is sending our way.

  “Not yet. Have you ordered? I’m starving.”

  “Yes, because I am too. Have some fries.” I push the basket in her direction as she drops her purse in the chair beside me.

  “Let me run to the Ladies Room.”

  “Okay.”

  Yuki walks away, and moments later Dylan follows.

  “Those two need to get together already,” Asher speaks my thoughts.

  “Tell me about it. It will happen. I feel it.”

  “You and your feelings.” He chuckles snagging one of my fries. “Tell me about this trip.”

  It’s hours later, and we’re hanging around the table eating and having several simultaneous conversations. I tried to tell Asher about our trip. We were interrupted so many times I decided to wait until we get home.