The Millionaire's Arranged Marriage (7 page)

CHAPTER
13

Dilvan

- - -

Dilvan sat out
on the front deck at his house, staring off into the darkness, listening as ocean waves crashed together. He hadn’t eaten any of the spread that Beatrice laid out because his appetite was just like his wife – gone.

What have I done?

He asked himself that same question over and over but didn’t answer it because what he had done, in hindsight, was too painful to think about.

Beatrice interrupted his thoughts when she came
strolling out onto the deck. “Is there any thang I can do before you turn in?” she asked.

“No. Thanks, Beatrice.”

“If you don’t mind my nose in your business, Suh, I didn’t ‘spect you home ‘til Sunday night.”

“Yeah...had to come home early.”

“Well, I hope er’thang is okay.” Beatrice turned to walk away.

“Beatrice,” he
called out, then turned to look at her.

She was instantly appalled by his bloodshot eyes and the overall look of despair
on his face.

“U
m...” he said, trying to find the right words to express what he was feeling. “I messed up, Beatrice. I messed up.”

Beatrice strolled over closer to him and took a seat. Never in her four years of working for him had she seen him so downcast. He looked like he was about to have a breakdown.

“Am I a bad person?” he asked her.

“Well, Suh
...”

“Be honest with me, Beatrice.”

“I think you’re harsh wit’ certain peoples,” she told him. “You’ve always treated me kind, and I ‘preciate that, but you treat lil’ Mrs. Gabrielle like she has a plague. And she’s such a sweet girl.”

“She is a sweet girl,” he admitted.

“Don’t think I heard you correctly,” Beatrice said, sounding bewildered.

“I said she’s a sweet girl,” he repeated,
covering his face with his hands. “Did you know what she did for my Father?”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember when my Father was sick?”

“Yes, when he needed
the bone marrow and y’all boys were all rallying fuh matching donors. I ‘member that.”

Dilvan nodded. “
Gabrielle was a match,” Dilvan said, swallowing hard. He dared not cry. “My Father is alive because of her, and I hurt her. I hurt her, Beatrice, because I was upset with my Mother and I took it out on Gabrielle when all she ever tried to do was love me.” Dilvan’s face turned a shade of red. He hid his face in shame, then stood up, walked down the stairs, out onto the dark beach.

CHAPTER 14

Gabrielle

- - -

“Have you ever
tried tiramisu?” Tyson asks as he opens the fridge and takes out a container.

“No.”

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing towards one of the four white barstools that lines the opposite side of the island he’s working from. The kitchen has an eclectic, industrial type feel – the biggest room in the house – with stainless steel appliances, a double oven, and a French door refrigerator with thru-the-door ice and water. The island countertop, as well as all the other countertops in the kitchen, is lime green quartz. Charcoal-colored tiles cover the floor, which works well with the lime green, white and silver colors of the kitchen.

I sit down and watch him tie on a white apron.

“I made these lady fingers a few days ago, but instead of making them like rolls, I made them in cupcake form. I like to serve tiramisu in little glass dishes.”

“
And how do you make lady whatcha-ma-call-its?”

He looks at me and smiles.
“Lady fingers.”

“
You know what...nevermind. You must get tired of talking about food.”

“
No, not at all. I’m actually surprised you’re curious. Most people don’t care about the process, as long as they get the finished product.”

“Well, I can cook
a little, but I’m not good with making dessert, so I’m very intrigued by this.”

“Cool. So, um
...to make the lady whatcha-ma-call-its,” he says, then winks at me, “All you do is mix eggs, white sugar, all-purpose flour and baking soda. Of course they would be measured out appropriately, depending on how much tiramisu you’re making.”

“Right.”

“It bakes for eight minutes, and it’s done. I soaked them in espresso and rum and now that they’re no longer soggy, I’m going to layer them between mascarpone cream.”

He pops the lid
off of the container he took from the refrigerator and says, “Taste.”

“Huh?”

“Taste it. Dip your finger in it.”

“What is it?”

“Just taste it, sweetie.”

I cautiously push the tip of my index finger into the mixture and he watch
es as I lick it from my finger. “This is good. What is it?”

“
Mascarpone cream, made of mascarpone cheese, heavy cream, sugar and egg yolk. So what I’ll do with this is layer it between the lady fingers.”

I watch him work and once he’s assembled the dessert, he sprinkles on cocoa and chocolate shavings.

“And voilà. This is Gabrielle’s tasty tiramisu.”

He
brings a dessert dish around to me with a spoon. Sitting at the barstool next to me, he says, “Dig in.”

“Where’s your spoon
? I know you don’t expect me to eat all of this by myself after you’ve done all the hard work?”

“Okay. I’ll get a spoon.”

Tyson stands, takes off his apron and grabs a spoon. He’s back, sitting next to me and we take a spoonful of dessert at precisely the same time, tasting it.

“
Mmm...this is
very
good, Tyson.”

“Glad you like it.”

As we continue eating, I give the kitchen another once over. He has just about every kitchen appliance any chef would dream of.

“So tell me a little more about yourself,
Tyson.”

He grins.

“What?” I ask him.

“You know plenty about me...you know I’m a chef
...that I’m your husband’s first cousin and...”

“I mean personally...like you pretty much know all about my personal business with Dilvan and all. So what about you? Is there someone special in your life?”

He gives me an inquisitive glare that almost transforms into a frown.

“What?”
I ask.

“The way you phrase
d your question makes it sound like Dilvan was special to you.”

“No...that’s not
how I meant it. I...I was just trying to ask you if you were involved with anyone.”

“No. I’m not. Now you
would like know why, right?”

I
don’t answer him, but still, he says, “I was in love with a woman about five years ago. We were engaged, actually, but she got a job offer in Chicago and I owned my own restaurant in Atlanta and wasn’t willing to pick up my entire life and go to Chicago. So we split up, and now she’s happily married with two small kids, still living in Chicago and I’m here.”

“Why didn’t you go with her?”

“It didn’t feel right.”

“But you ended up moving from Atlanta anyway to the Outer Banks, so you could’ve just moved with her.”

“Nah. Besides, we’d gotten into a huge fight...she said I wasn’t supporting her dreams as much as she supported mine and one day I came home from work and she was gone.”

“Just like that?”

He nodded. “Yep. Just like that.”

“So how do you know she’s married with kids?”

“I hear things, you know...but I have no hard feelings. I know I did the right thing. Sometimes you have to listen to your mind and not your heart.”

“
Trust me, I know that all too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I didn’t say anything before, because I didn’t want you or Padma to look at me like I was foolish, but I actually didn’t want to leave Dilvan’s house. I mean, in my mind, I have this image of what Dilvan and I could’ve been if he was a sane individual,” I say with a chuckle. “And even when I knew it was time to go, my heart still wanted him to love me.”

“I don’t think that’s foolish at all. My sister went through something similar with her ex...boy could she tell you some stories.”

“Maybe I’ll get a chance to meet her one day.”

“Maybe.”

I take another spoonful of tiramisu, savor it because it’s my last and then lay the spoon on the table. “Tyson, do you have a home phone?” I ask him, because I want to call my Father and talk to my sisters before I go to bed.

“Nah, I don’t have a home phone,
but you can use my cell.”

“Okay.”

“You don’t have a cell phone?” he inquires.

“No. Dilvan didn’t allow me to have one.”

Tyson shakes his head. “So how were you able to contact your family?”

“Whenever I would go to Padma’s house, I secretly called them
from there.”

Tyson
takes his cell phone from the countertop and says, “Here you go, dear. Use it whenever you want.”

He st
ands, stretches his muscular arms high up in the air and says, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Okay. I’m going to call my
Father. Hopefully he’s still up. I’ll leave your phone on the counter.”

“Okay, Bri,” he says, then began walking towards his bedroom.

“What did you call me?” I ask. It sounds like he called me the ‘bri’ in Gabrielle, but I’m not certain if that’s what he said.

He turns around and has a sly smile on his face. “Bri...I’ve decided to give you a nickname because Gabrielle is way too long.”

I laugh. “Seriously? It’s only three syllables.”

“Yeah, but still...”

“And nobody else calls me
Bri
. People call me Gabby for short.”

“I considered that
, but Gabby sounds like a nickname for a person who talks entirely too much and that’s not you. Bri fits better.”

With that, he heads to his room.

I stay in the kitchen, dialing my Father’s number into Tyson’s cell phone, listening to it ringing. I glance at the clock on the wall and it’s 11:32 p.m. I’m wondering if he won’t answer because he doesn’t recognize this number.

“Hello.”

“Hi Dad.”

“Gabrielle?”

“Yeah, it’s me. How are you?”

“I’m doing good
. How are you? I was getting worried...haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“I’m okay,” I say. I decide not to tell him about my split with Dilvan. That’s for another time. Right now, I’m just glad to hear his voice.
“How’s Destiny and Carmen? I know they’re probably sleeping.”

“
Yeah, they are. They’re both doing well. When do you think you’ll be back for a visit?”

“I’m going to try to make it there
soon, Dad. I’m trying to get on my feet over here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, um...” Ugh
, I cannot believe I let that slip
. It always seem like every time I try to hide something, I inadvertently let something slip. So I say, “It’s nothing...just have a few items with work that’s been keeping me occupied.”

“Work? You have a job now?”

Ugh!

“No...
well...yes...the charity work I help Padma with.”

“How’s
Padma doing?”

“She’s good. She makes sure I have everything I need.”

“And how’s my son-in-law?”

I roll my eyes. “Dilvan? Oh, u
m...he’s fine.”

“Make sure you bring
Dilvan with you when you come. I want to meet him face-to-face at least once.”

“Okay,” I respond. N
o one in my family has never met Dilvan and I plan on keeping it that way. “Well, Dad, listen, I have to go but give Destiny and Carmen a hug and kiss for me.”

“Okay. Love you, honey.”

“Love you too, Dad. Bye.”

I blow an agitating breath while placing
Tyson’s cell phone back on the counter. I cover my face with my hands, trying to determine when I would be able to visit the family again, as well as feeling a bout of anxiety about having to tell Dad about Dilvan.

I get up to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator before I
head upstairs and get ready for bed.

* * *

It’s a little after midnight when I’m finally lying down. The bed is a peaceful oasis. From it, I get the sensation of how it must feel to sleep on a cloud. The room is cozy, warm and inviting. I leave the curtains open, allowing a little bit of light in to illuminate the space. Then I close my eyes and know I can rest because Dilvan Alexander is not here to sneak into my room, snatch covers off of the bed or do anything else to harass me.

Somehow, though,
I don’t feel sleepy. Maybe it’s because I’m in a new environment, a new room with a different layout. I’m not sure what it is. At any rate, I flip on the TV and find the Travel Channel just to pass the time. It works, because fifteen minutes of watching it, I began to doze off, that is until I hear the stairs creaking.

My body tenses up tight, because I have flashbacks of the floors creaking when Dilvan made late night visits to my
bedroom. And now, Tyson was coming up the stairs. What did he want?

After two taps on my door, he says, “Bri, you still up?”

After a long pause, I say, “Yes.”

“May I come in?”

I pause again. I don’t want him to come in. I feel comfortable with Tyson, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable in the same bedroom with him. And I have on my night gown...

“Never
mind,” he says. “I just wanted to tell you to have a good night...oh, and if you weren’t up, I was going to turn off your TV.”

“I’ll turn it off.”

“No...if you’re watching it, it’s fine. I was just...um...you know what...have a good night, Bri. See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight,” I tell him, then I hear his footsteps descend the stairs.