Her Premarital Ex (The Alexanders Book 3) (3 page)

“Tyson—”

“If you can’t rely on me,
Gabrielle, who are you going to rely on?”

“Okay, wait...I think
we’re getting off track here. I don’t want to argue, Tyson. I
just—”

“Want a career...” he
finished saying for her.

“Yes, and I’ve been
thinking about one day opening a bakery. Do you realize that there
are only three bakeries in Nags Head, and they don’t make the kind
of things you make?”

“Yes, I realized that,
actually,” he said, feeling his frustration mount. “Do you realize
that my annual salary for the last five years have topped fifteen
million dollars?”

She continued, “So these
existing bakeries are just the powdered and glazed doughnut types.
Opening a bakery and making the things you make will be a complete
change to the traditional bakery,
and
having one on this side of the
Outer Banks would be a plus, which leads me to this...um...Padma
and Lalita are going to a restaurant seminar in Chicago this
weekend and I want to go with them.”

“You don’t like the idea,”
Gabrielle said.

“You know I have to be in
Atlanta this weekend. Remember the discussion I had with you about
some new kitchen equipment I’m trying out there before I roll them
out to the other restaurants?”

“Yes.”

“That’s this
weekend.”

“Well, you could go there,
and I will go to Chicago with Padma and Lalita.”

“Absolutely
not.”

“Because I don’t want you
going there without me. And why, all of a sudden, do you want a
career, Gabrielle?”

“I’ve always wanted a
career. I don’t just want to live off of you.”

“You’re my
wife.”

“I realize that
and—”

“Do you realize that,
because I don’t think you do? And to be quite frank with you, I’m
not sure if I want you to work. It’s completely
unnecessary.”

“You are something. You’re
my wife...the future mother of my children. I don’t want a wife
that’s embedded into a job. I want a family woman.”

“Tell me, Gabrielle...tell
me what you want that you don’t already have. All you have to do is
ask me and it’s yours...you know that.”

“I want to go with Padma
and Lalita to Chicago.”

“Now that I’ve said no,”
Tyson said, “You have to make your own choice. You’re grown, I
cannot tell you what to do. I’m not a tyrant, holding you hostage
in our home and expecting you to do everything I want. All I can do
is express my opinion to you and my opinion is, you do not need to
do this. Once you get wrapped up in a career, it’s only going to
put a strain on our marriage and—”

“I’m not Desiree, Tyson,”
Gabrielle blurted out. She’d been thinking it, but his rant pushed
her to actually say it out loud.

“I didn’t say you
were.”

“But that’s basically the
reason you don’t like my idea...you think I’m going to do what she
did to you, right?”

“Then what is
your
vision for us. Can
you share that with me?”

“I want
us
to raise
our
children.”

“Not yet, but it’s bound
to happen sooner or later, right, unless you’re on some type of
birth control and didn’t tell me about it. Are you?”

“No.”

“Then you could be
pregnant right now, right?”

“All I want is what’s good
for our family,” Tyson said, “And what’s good for the family is
when the wife stays at home with the kids. Heck, I work from home,
so we’ll both be here.”

“Yeah, okay,” Gabrielle
said, realizing she was on the losing end of this battle. “Excuse
me.” She got up from the table, and rushed off to the bathroom,
pacing back and forth. She was too angry to cry and now, she had to
tell Padma that she wasn’t going to Chicago.

Gosh, why does he have to
be so cut and dry?
Gabrielle loved her
husband, but it seemed his plans for the family were just that
–
his
plans. For
a man so loving and caring, why hadn’t he taken her wants, goals
and desires into consideration?

Dilvan
sat at a small café, waiting for his father to arrive. While
he waited, he flagged a waitress to his table, watching her smile
as she strutted his way in a black, knee-length skirt and white
top.

“Good morning,” she said,
all smiles.

“Good morning,” he
replied.

“What can I get for
ya?”

“Just a cup of decaf,
please.”

“Not eating breakfast, or
shall I say brunch today, Mr. Alexander?”

“I follow you on Instagram
and I just want to say that you look even better in
person.”

“Well, thank you.” He
checked the woman out a little closer. Before she complimented him,
he hadn’t noticed how cute she was in a college girl type of
way.

“Be right back with your
coffee.”

“Decaf,” he reminded
her.

“Yes,” she said, turning
around, smiling. “Decaf.”

He sighed.
Where are you, Dad?
He
took out his phone to see if he had any missed calls. There were
none. Then he checked his email and saw that his manager had sent
something. This was the first email he’d received from her in three
weeks. He clicked on it:

TO: Dilvan Alexander

FROM: Len Phillips

SUBJECT: New Gig in the
Windy City!

Dilvan,

Hope all is well. I think
I may have landed you the perfect gig. It’s going to be a one-day
shoot in Chicago on Saturday. The client is Ross & Co. They
want you to model some button-ups and jeans and that’s all, my
friend. I need to confirm with them today, so I’ll appreciate it if
you get back to me ASAP.

Thanks,

Len

- - -

TO: Len Phillips

FROM: Dilvan Alexander

SUBJECT: New Gig in the
Windy City!

Len, appreciate the offer,
but I’ll pass.

Thanks,

D.

- - -

“Dilvan,” Colin said,
patting Dilvan on the shoulder before he sat.

“Hello, Father. How are
you?”

“I’m okay,” he drawled out
in a husky, exhausted grunt. “Glad to be off for a few
days...that’s for sure.”

“Here you are,” the
waitress said, carefully placing a cup of coffee in front of
Dilvan.

“You’re welcome.” Looking
at Colin now, she asked, “Would you like coffee as well,
sir?”

“Yes, please.
Decaf.”

“My Father and I like the
same things,” Dilvan told her.

“Oh. Okay. I’ll get
another cup coming right up.”

“Don’t try to make me feel
better, father. I already know what the family thinks of me. Mom
doesn’t come over every Tuesday like she used to. I have to beg her
to come by...and don’t get me started on Heshan and
Prasad...especially Heshan.”

“Let me ask you something,
D.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah, she is.”

“I know that—”

“Wait...let me finish.
Your mom feels like you’ve forgotten your roots, and I blame myself
for that because I moved us here. However, you’re a grown man now,
and I don’t expect you to walk in my footsteps, son. But whatever
path you choose in life, just be a man, a gentleman. Treat people
with respect and remember, the people you trample on the way up
will be the same people you pass on the way down.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

“Okay, so what’s your
plan?”

“My plan for what?” he
asked, his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug.

“Your plan to mend your
relationship with your mother and your brothers.”

“Well, I gotta think about
it.”

“You do that, and don’t
take too long thinking about it.”

“I won’t.”

“Hey, listen, I would love
to stay and play catch up with you, but I have run. Take care and
call me later, all right?”

“Okay, Dad.”

FROM: Len Phillips

TO: Dilvan Alexander

SUBJECT: New Gig in the
Windy City!

Come on, Dilvan. You’re
killing me. You said you wanted small gigs...I deliver
small
gigs. Just think
on it and call me tomorrow.

Len

- - -

“More decaf?” the waitress
asked, standing with a fresh pot of coffee in her hand.

“Uh...no. I’m
good.”

“Then I’ll be right back
with the check.”

“Excuse me?” she said,
walking back towards the table.

“Why do you call it
a
check
, instead
of a bill?” he asked. “I’ve always been curious about
that.”