Page 2 of The One He Desires

“Hey, Benny. Can you send someone up to clean the bathroom outside of my office? Thank you.” Zuri’s voice sounds in my ears, and my face flushes with heat.

Seconds later, dry heaves cause my stomach to tighten, and it’s a welcome relief, as nothing else comes out, which allows me to stand upright. I turn to look at my best friend with misty eyes as her melancholy gaze hits me like a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter in a shaky and raw voice, thanks to the events moments ago.

“One good thing about you rocking your pixie is I didn’t have to hold your hair back. Feel better?”

I shake my head and walk to the sink so I can cup my hands to rinse my mouth. Thankfully, none of the vomit has gotten on my clothes. But a few splatters are on my shoes, so I slip them off and go about removing the evidence of my bad decision.

“Let’s go back to my office before the custodians come to clean this up, unless you want them to cuss you out for making such a nasty mess.”

Without a word, I finish what I’m doing and then follow my best friend back to her office. My stomach is still queasy, but the urge to vomit is gone. What I didn’t know at this moment is that the worst day of my life would introduce me to the best thing that ever happened to me.

Four Years Later . . .

What’s good, Journee? You can’t be that busy that you ain’t written me back. I ain’t beat for sending back-to-back letters. This actually is the last one because a nigga is about to be on the other side of these walls. That’s the point of this last letter. When I touch down, my people are gonna throw me a coming-home party. I’m gonna hit your line as soon as I get a phone. But you better show up to my party. No fucking excuses either. You won’t have the ability to dodge me when I’m capable of pulling up on you. But be breezy, and we’ll talk soon.

J. P.

I bite my bottom lip as my eyes rake over the letter from Jamarion. Every letter I’ve received from Jamarion is short and straight to the point. But this one fills me with a feeling that I’m unable to identify in the moment. I had no idea that the day I found out about BN’s deception, I would gain a new friend and fake brother. But two weeks after my visit, I got my first letter from Jamarion. I wanted to be mad that my ex, who I now refer to as BN thanks to Jamarion calling him that, gave my information to a stranger. But by the second letter, I found myself becoming Jamarion’s pen pal.

I’m not sure if Jamarion or I need a cat scan for our unorthodox relationship. But four years later, here we are, and the surprise is that my friend is about to be released from jail. Life has been kicking my thirty-one-year-old tail, and it’s the reason I haven’t been able to write my friend back. Time is a precious commodity that I don’t always have the privilege of receiving. My days and nights are often blended together, so sitting down to write is the last thing I’ve made time for.

“Mommy. Mommy.” The sweet, raspy voice cuts into my thoughts as the sound of little feet draws my eyes to the little person hurrying toward me as fast as her feet allow.

About a month after my ex was locked up, I found out he had given me an unexpected parting gift. In an attempt to be the woman my parents raised me to be, I drove to Ribax Correctional Institute, where BN was relocated. Imagine my surprise when I found out that I was blocked as one of his visitors. I should have gotten the picture then, but nope. My simple, wannabe responsible ass sent him a letter to inform him that he was gonna be a father. Another shock came when BN sent me a letter giving up his parental rights and saying that my child and I were dead to him.

Like, be for real because who the hell surrenders their rights through a letter? BN, that’s who.

“Mommy.” Little hands cover my face, and a giggle escapes my mouth because clearly baby girl doesn’t like me ignoring her.

Milan Egypt Gavin is the love of my life and the reason I am the woman I am. There have been many days when I didn’t think I would survive as a single parent. But seeing Milan’s beautiful face makes all of my worries, pain, and delusions about my parenting fade into thin air.

“I’m sorry, baby. What can I do for you?”

“Hungry, Mommy.”

Milan rubs circles on her stomach to emphasize her point, and I smile as she releases my face and steps back. Milan is three years old and the apple of not only my eye but everyone who is invited to be a part of her village. I thought my parents would be displeased with me not only getting pregnant by a buster but also being forced to be a single mother. But instead, they let me shed my tears and committed to helping me through it all. As a business owner, I have unorthodox work hours, but Mom retired so she could keep Milan so day care wouldn’t be a burden for me.

At first, I felt bad about her decision, but then Dad told me that Mom was just killing time until something gave her a reason to leave. Thankfully for me, Milan was that something. Between Mom, Dad, and Zuri, I have been able to maintain my sanity while growing my business and handling motherhood like the boss I am. While most people knew what they wanted to be when they grew up, it took me a little bit to figure out my life plan. Cocoa Luxe is my first baby, and I had to learn how to put in the blood, sweat, and tears while growing a tiny human.

Some days, I wanted to stay in bed after spending early mornings with my head inside my toilet bowl. But my determination to continue thriving in business pushed me to the front line even when energy wasn’t something I had. I have managed to keep my human and professional babies alive, and for that, I’m proud of myself.

“What do you want to eat, baby?”

“Ricken Ugget,” Milan tells me, and I smile.

If Milan had her way, chicken nuggets would be breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Mom ensures she has balanced meals throughout the day, but sometimes I give in to Milan’s chosen foods just to avoid cooking. Not to mention, Tyson makes a pretty tasty chicken nugget. I open the freezer and pull out the bag, then move to the cabinet to retrieve a baking sheet to cook them on.

Then I preheat the oven and move to place enough nuggets for Milan and me to eat for dinner. Tonight, my toddler’s suggestion works for both of us. Once the oven chimes, I place the sheet in the oven and head back to the freezer for some broccoli, since Milan also enjoys it. My phone rings before I can grab the pot from the cabinet.

“Phone, Mommy. Mommy, phone,” Milan says like a parrot.

“Can you get it for me, big girl?”

“Mmhm.” Milan runs out of the kitchen to retrieve my phone and returns seconds later with it to her ear.

Her face is bright, and her cheeks are rosy, which lets me know it’s either my parents or Zuri.