I Do... NOT Read online

  I DO... NOT

  KIMOLISA MINGS

  I DO... NOT

  Copyright 2017 Kimolisa Mings

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please delete it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

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  Cover Art Stock Photo Credits

  Ufuk ZIVANA

  By Kimolisa Mings

  Short Stories

  Martine

  Novellas

  The Millionaire & The Gentleman

  Loving The Wrong Man

  Lovers + Friends Series

  More Than Friends

  Just Friends

  Yesterday's Gone

  Tomorrow's End

  Integration

  Integration

  Oration

  Sign up to the author's email list and get a free copy of the More Than Friends.

  Click here to get started:

  http://www.kimolisamings.com/freemtf

  To you, the reader.

  Chapter One

  It was as though it blazed with the fire of a million suns as it fragmented the soft afternoon light filtering through the window of L' Étoile, the small bistro on the corner of 7th and Oak Streets. It was a cushion cut diamond set in a sliver of platinum polished to perfection. I had dreamed of this very same ring countless times since seeing one like it at a jewelry store downtown, and now that it was in my grasp, I didn’t want it.

  Looking up at the man who presented it, I blinked once, then twice, as though trying to focus on him, trying to really see him. I had known Malachi Stevens for two years, seven months and a handful of minutes, and even though I knew how he took his coffee and that he always slept on the right side of the bed, I couldn’t imagine forever with him.

  I licked my lips and began to say no, to tell him that although I appreciated his intentions, I didn’t think this was the direction our relationship should go. I tried to ignore the hope swimming in his eyes, the way he gripped the ring box or how that tension ran up his arm and clutched his body. I had to say these words and by extension end this relationship. It was sure to disappoint our parents, but this was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it?

  “Can I get you two, any-“ the question was cut short with a gasp when the young waitress saw the ring.

  Unfortunately, this drew the attention of the other diners. From the corner of my eye, I saw an elderly couple at the next table turn, the woman placed her hand on her husband’s and he then placed his other hand on top of hers. The wishes of a happy future for our marriage made my throat swell around the words I had to say. Two men in business suits nodded in approval, most likely thinking of their wives, and later that day they would go home to tell said wives of the proposal that took place at L' Étoile on 7th and Kent during their late lunch meeting. Even the bus boy, a stout Mexican, stopped what he was doing to watch what was to be a pivotal point in our lives.

  Under the weight of their stares, I stretched a smile across my face and breathed out, “Yes.”

  The bistro erupted in cheers, near strangers congratulated us before melting back into the background, returning to their lives, not knowing the part they played in this tableau.

  The man sitting across from me transformed from a boy waiting to be told his wish was granted to a man who had won his career’s highest honor. Still, his hands shook as he slid the ring onto my finger or was it him accommodating for my shaking fingers? He leaned across and pressed his thick lips against mine and I should have felt comfort and happiness, but all I felt was the cold, iciness of regret.

  Was it too late to say no? Could I pull the ring off and hand it back now that we were in the privacy of our table? I could, I should, I w-

  Malachi's cell phone began to ring. By the sound of church bells, I knew it was his mother, Regina Stevens, the matriarch of the Steven’s clan. Her calls were never ignored.

  “Hi, mom,” my…. fiancé said after swiping the surface of his iPhone. “Yes... And she said yes!”

  Of course, Regina knew about the proposal. The woman was in the know of almost everything in the Stevens boys’ lives. She knew that Jerome’s wife was pregnant before he did. She knew that Malcolm’s girlfriend was cheating on him and Regina knew what to do to console him after she told him the unfortunate news. Why would it be a surprise that she knew that Malachi was going to propose? The only thing is how did they know the exact ring I would want?

  Although I respected the woman and spoke politely with her, there was always a feeling that she was watching and waiting for something to happen. She was the last person I would confide in, knowing full and well that anything said would get back to Malachi.

  As he spoke to his mother, recounting the proposal, I studied the man I agreed to marry. He checked all the boxes. A successful black man on the rise at his engineering firm. Tall, dark and handsome with the most succulent thick lips and the deepest brown, bedroom eyes. He went to the gym but wasn’t a slave to it. And somewhere between working hard on his career and his body, he found time to lavish me and make me feel like the most important woman in the world. Could the most important woman in his world break his heart and incur the wrath of Regina?

  I never found out the answer that afternoon, this time it was my cell phone that was ringing. It was the office, and I was being called in for an emergency meeting. A case for Mr. Richard Knowland, my law firm’s most important client, had taken an unexpected turn.

  I was grateful for the escape, but the weight of the ring reminded me that I had unfinished business.

  Chapter Two

  The problem with social media was people knew your business in the blink of an eye or the click of the post button. By the time I went out with the girls, they knew that our relationship status had upgraded to Engaged. Malachi must have done it from his phone right after I left.

  “Come on, come on,” Toni Crane prompted as soon as I took my seat in our usual booth near the bar of the Raging Bull.

  Thankfully, no one said anything when I pulled the ring out from my bag and slid it on my finger before exhibiting it like I was a hand model.

  Tucking a blond lock behind her ear, Toni leaned in. So did Luisa Martinez and Toya Randall. As the three women babbled on the beauty of my latest acquisition, I felt the sad gaze of my oldest friend, Naomi St. Pierre.

  “I see he followed through with my advice,” she said before taking a sip of her cocktail.

  It made sense now how Malachi knew what I wanted in a ring. It was one of the many things Naomi knew about me. But this revelation only underscored the seriousness of his proposal. Naomi and Malachi never got along. For my sake, they toed the line of civility, but every now and then they would slip. A pointed statement here, a loaded question there, so heavily draped in casual banter that there was no point scolding one or the other. Still, Malachi turned to Naomi to pick out a ring for me.

  “And you said yes,” she pointed out the obvious. Another sip and the drink was gone. With the grace of a former ballerina, Naomi raised her glass and caught the eye of the busy waiter making the rounds through the crowded bar.

  “Of course, she said yes,” Luisa said, sitting back and reaching for her
glass of red wine. “Have you seen Malachi and do you see that ring? If he had asked me, we would be on our way to Vegas, snatching him off the market.” Luisa winked at me while the others laughed. The others with the exception Naomi.

  “So, you’re really going through with this?” Toni asked, her eyes searched my face, perhaps, seeing herself five years ago when it was her flashing the ring. It still glittered in the dim lighting of our favorite bar, but its band didn’t have the same shine as the day she said, “I do.”

  I nodded, not trusting my voice to lie to my closest friends. Maybe that was an indication that I was not all in, I wasn’t committed to this engagement, much less marriage. I was digging myself deeper and if I didn’t act soon, I would dig so deep that I may never see the light.

  “So….. the future Mrs. Stevens,” Toya began, still leaning in. “Have you thought of bridesmaids?”

  “Oh,” I held up my hand to stare at the diamond. “I haven’t thought much about it. But now that you asked, there’s Jasmine.”

  Toya’s eyes narrowed, “The cousin who chews gum all the time with the exception of when she’s eating?” She turned to Luisa and added, “She takes the gum out of her mouth, plunks it on the side of the plate, eats, then pops the gum back in. She chews like a cow.”

  “Then there’s my sister, Jada,” I bit my lip to prevent a smile from cracking my face and my act.

  “The sister who stole two boyfriends from under your nose and got pregnant for one?” Toya was more than incredulous. “Nah, Alexa, your bridesmaids are right here, even sourpuss Naomi. Just say the word and this wedding is all but set.”

  “Well…” I let a smile form on my lips. “They might be unavailable anyway, seeing Jasmine is pregnant.”

  “Again?”

  “And Jada… well, Jada is Jada,” I ignored Toya’s exclamation. “Anyway, I’m thinking it’s going to be a… intimate affair.”

  “She means small,” Naomi chimed in.

  “My friend’s not going to have a … small wedding,” and without provocation Toya Randall, wedding coordinator, became my wedding planner. Pulling out her phone, she informed me of the date of our first appointment. “If we skimp on the quantity, we can go all out on the location, I know this amazing venue-“

  “So now that you are engaged,” Naomi interjected. “Does this mean our girls' weekend is off?”

  I didn’t expect the question, but I was grateful that it shifted the conversation from wedding talk.

  “I hope not,” Toni said. “I’ve been looking forward to getting away and a weekend getaway in the mountains is what the doctor ordered.” Although Toni loved Aaron and their two boys, she needed breaks from the testosterone. She said once that it was one of the things that kept her sane while working long hours at the hospital as a technician, being a wife and mother.

  “I’m not going to miss it,” I looked at Toni then at Naomi. “I pulled too many strings to get the time off just to not take it. Malachi will understand,” I said firmly.

  He probably won’t. He probably would want us to spend the long weekend visiting his parents', showing me and the ring off to his relatives and old friends.

  I wasn’t up for that, plus I might need the weekend in the cabin in the mountains to hideaway after I returned the ring and the commitment to love and honor to the man I I loved, but not enough to marry him.

  “I’m sure he will,” Naomi said, still I heard the fine thread of doubt woven into her words.

  Sensing the tension in our midst, Toni turned to Luisa and asked about Raul’s arm. I was grateful for the topic change and listened as Luisa explained her son’s progress after breaking his forearm while playing in the neighborhood. As the two women talked, I could sense Naomi staring at me, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet her gaze. Somehow, I felt I would see a knowing, a suspicion that my saying yes was a farce. And in that moment I wondered what it would be like to spend the weekend with Naomi. All the more reason to break it off with Malachi.

  Eventually, I did look. As Toni explained what she went through when little Adam broke his arm, I glanced across at Naomi. At first, she was focused on Toni then she took a sip of her cocktail and glanced across at me. Our eyes locked for what felt like an eternity but was truly a second or two. As suspected, there was suspicion but so was sadness.

  The eternity in a second passed and it was Naomi who looked away. It was as though it was she who had something to hide, but what?

  Chapter Three

  The Knowland case was tying up nicely allowing me to leave work early for the first time in the last three days. Instead of taking a bus home, I decided to walk, taking in the sights and sounds of a city in transition. The end of the year was always a sight to see. From pumpkins and skulls to images of the harvest to the lights of Christmas. As I passed a costume shop, its window filled with costumes that ranged from princesses to space heroes to slutty nurses, I admitted to myself that I was procrastinating.

  I was taking my time in getting home because I didn’t want to face Malachi. Not now, not until I fine-tuned my speech to minimize the damage. I chuckled to myself as I stopped to take in the window display of a toy store. It was as though I was trying to make a bullet not hurt when it tore through flesh.

  The rejection was going to hurt and it was going to ripple out to our family and friends. Some would side with Malachi and some with me. With the passing of time, scars will form and memories would fade. Soon they would be replaced with memories of new lives, new loves, but first, we had to experience this pain.

  With a sigh, I pulled away from the window and put one foot in front of the other until I made it home to my apartment. It was my pride and joy, I got it after I received a promotion at the firm. It was in a neighborhood that was getting a second life. I had moved in when artists and musicians still lived there but now my neighbors were doctors, lawyers, and bankers. Fortunately, I was still locked into my original rent otherwise I would not have been able to afford my place.

  As I stepped into the foyer, I pulled off my jacket and stowed it in the closet besides the front door. With a groan, I noticed Malachi's jacket. At the time, I thought it was a great idea to exchange keys, it marked the next step in our relationship, but now I regretted it.

  “Is that you, Alexa?” the deep timbre of his voice emanated from the kitchen. Malachi soon appeared in the doorway, an apron tied around his waist. Oh God, he cooked dinner.

  “Hey baby,” he walked over and embraced me, his lips found mine and the kiss was anything but chaste.

  When he pulled away, I looked up into his eyes, They crinkled at the edges as he smiled, there was so much happiness and hope. It only made what I had to say that much harder.

  “Baby,” I cupped his cheek. “We have to-“

  “Oh, Lord,” a familiar voice interrupted. “Can’t you two wait until the wedding night?”

  We pulled apart like teenagers caught in a forbidden embrace. Somehow we forgot that we were adults, professionals, and my mother no longer wields the power she once had. A power that amused her.

  With a chuckle, Ingrid Marsh said, “Malachi, the pasta is finished, I turned it off.”

  With a nod, Malachi disappeared into the kitchen and my mother turned to me.

  “Well? Don’t I get a hug?” When we hugged, she mumbled, “I can’t believe my little girl is getting married.”

  She rubbed my back and instantly, I stiffened. This changed everything, now we had an audience. There was no way I could tell Malachi that I had changed my mind in front of my mother.

  Pulling away, she made me look at her, “What’s wrong, Alexa?”

  “It's nothing,” I shook my head free of her grasp and walked towards my bedroom. Maybe the distance would hide the obvious.

  “It's something,” she said, a few steps behind.

  “No, Mom,” I tried to sound convincing. “It's nothing.”

  I entered my inner sanctum, but it lost a tad of its peace when my mother stalked in. She pulled th
e door close behind her and placed her hands on her ample hips. “What's going on, Alexa? Is it work?”

  She was revving up into full interrogation mode when she stopped. As her mouth slowly closed, her eyes narrowed, then she strode over to me and hissed, “No.”

  “Yes.” I faced my mother. “I don't want to marry Malachi, I am not marrying Malachi,” I rose my chin a bit higher

  “Alexa? Mrs. Marsh?” I heard Malachi's voice grow louder and louder. I sighed and began to walk towards the closed door. I was going through with it, audience or no audience. Then I would pack up his meal and send him on his way to tend to his broken heart, but my mother gripped my upper arm.

  “We’re in the bedroom, Malachi,” she called out, looking me in the eye. “Why don’t you put the food on the table. We’ll be right out.”

  We listened as his footsteps faded away.

  “I'm doing this,” I eased out of my mother's grasp. “I don't love him enough to go through with this,” the words felt good spoken into the air, as though they were pent up for too long.

  My proclamation, honest as it was, was met with a snort, then laughter that lacked any mirth. When the laughter subsided, my mother shook her head, “Who said marriage was about love? Look at my sisters.”

  I peered at her, she did not use her union as an example, and she, for one, should understand the importance of love in marriage. Why would she make such a statement?

  “Look, Alexa,” my mother turned me fully towards her. “You have a good man out there. God, he cooked you dinner. I can’t recall any of Jada’s men cooking much less preparing an entire meal. No, you got the perfect man and he wants you.”

  “But- ”

  “No buts,” Ingrid said with conviction. “Alexa, you’ve always done the right thing. You were a straight A student, you made it to a top college and you are on the fast track at your firm. You know in your heart that this is the right thing to do.”