Page 29 of Beautiful Broken Love

DAVINA

It was a Thursday, and I couldn’t concentrate for the life of me.

Not only because of how I let my imagination/fantasy run wild the night prior but also because the picture on my desk, which revealed me and Lewis, was drowning me in guilt.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered, turning the frame to the left. Ugh. I was being so petty and ridiculous about this.

So what? I fantasized about Deke. I was sure many women in the world fantasized about him. And it wasn’t like he or anyone else would ever find out. I wasn’t going to see him again for several months, and that would be to renew our endorsement contract (if he even wanted to do it). I figured by then, he’d have completely forgotten about our emails and found himself a new lady to flirt with.

There was a knock at the door, and then it rapidly swung open, before I could say anything. “What’s up, sis!” Octavia barged in with a black jumpsuit on and a peach-colored bag hanging from her shoulder. “Why are you sulking in here?” she asked, dropping the bag on the coffee table.

“I’m not. I’m fine.” I placed my pen down and straightened in my chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, right.” She opened the peach bag and dug out a glass container, giving it a little shake. “I made that chopped salad you really like—you know, the one with the cranberries and walnuts.”

I gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did, and I made you some double chocolate chip cookies.”

“Stop! You know I love your cookies, Tavia!” I really did. Octavia learned to bake when she was twelve. She was really good at it then, but a master at it now. I often teased her about going on one of those Food Network baking competitions. “Remind me again why we did that Pilates class?”

She snorted, handing me a container of salad. I took this moment to sit on the sofa and take a break from work. Maybe after a good meal, I could get my head back into business and stop with all this Deke nonsense.

But of course there were hardly ever any free moments in my life. This one ended when Tish stuck her head through the gap of the door and said, “Chester is on the line.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Tell him I’m having lunch, Tish.”

Tish sauntered into the office and grabbed the container of cookies. “I would, but he says it’s urgent, and you know how he gets.”

Octavia stood and snatched the cookies away from Tish. “I know you aren’t thinking about eating these without asking me.”

“Octavia, give me a cookie before I fight you in this office,” Tish hissed at her, trying to reach for the container. Octavia was reeling her elbow back, so Tish missed every time.

“I will—but only if you agree with me that Brent Faiyaz is better than Frank Ocean.” Octavia cocked a brow and smirked.

“Are you still on that?” Tish shifted her eyes toward the ceiling before dropping them to Octavia again. “Okay, fine. Brent is better. Now give me a damn cookie.” Tish snatched the container away, and Octavia cackled with glee as she sat back down with her salad.

I thought my relationship with my sister was a hot mess, but Tish and Octavia took the cake. They may as well have been sisters too.

I’d met Tish in community college, both of us weaving through the aisles of the campus bookstore, trying to find the same book. There was only one copy left, and she grabbed it first. That day, we laughed about it and agreed to split the cost of the book. Then we swapped numbers so we could text each other when we needed it. Eventually, our texting led to study sessions and general hanging out. I never looked back after that. She’d become my best friend, and my family had adored her as soon as they’d met her.

“Send the call through, Tish,” I said, returning to my desk. I forked through my salad as my best friend walked out. A few seconds later, my desk phone rang.

“Chester! Hi!” I answered with way too much enthusiasm.

“Davina, how’s it going? Listen, there’s something important I need to ask you.”

I refrained from sucking my teeth. It was just like Chester to jump straight into business. The how’s it going bid was merely to assure himself that he was a nice person who cared about others’ well-being. News flash: he didn’t care much at all.

Chester Hughes was your typical mega-rich male born from the pipeline of generational wealth. Egotistical, with bucketloads of money and very slim patience. He was nearing sixty, was bald, and had heavy wrinkles around his mouth from all the frowning of disapproval he’d done throughout his life.

“Okay. I’m all ears.”

“How do you feel about baby products?” he asked with a hint of rare excitement.

I couldn’t avoid the slight dip in my brows. “Baby products?” I glanced at Octavia with a what the fuck? look.

“I might have a great opportunity for you that could expand Golden Oil exponentially.”

The dip in my brows transformed to a slow incline. Now he was talking. “Go on.”

“I’m meeting with Kyla Cox tomorrow. She’s the co-owner of Bubbles and Swaddles. They’re an up-and-coming Black-owned brand that sells baby products—mostly shampoos and bath soaps. Anyway, her brand is looking to include body creams, lotions, and oils in their line, and they’re looking for a larger Black-owned brand to collaborate and distribute with. I was thinking this could be a great opportunity to not only bring the GOC brand more awareness with the quality of your products but to also tap into the market of moms and babies. I’m not sure you’re aware of this, but baby and maternity products are an infinite market, Davina. There are new mothers and babies born every second of the day. A collaboration like this is the ticket you need to be making millions more.”

I worked to swallow as I glanced at Octavia again. She mouthed, What’s he saying? but I turned away in my chair to let Chester’s words sink in.

He was right. Baby and maternity products had an infinite market. Moms—especially first-time moms—spent loads of money on their babies. They wanted to give their offspring the world, so the price tag didn’t matter. So long as it made their baby happy, they’d purchase it.

“Davina, you there?”

“Uh, yes.” I cleared my throat. “Still here.”

“Great. What do you think?” he asked. “You interested?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Absolutely. When would I get to meet Kyla?”

“That depends. How soon can you hop on a flight to Miami?”

“That also depends.”

“How about tomorrow?”

I gaped. “Tomorrow?”

“Yes. This is big, Davina. Kyla’s company has received a lot of recognition, and there are many eyes on her. An opportunity like this won’t present itself again.”

I turned in my chair again, not even realizing Tish had walked back into the office and she and Octavia were staring at me while nibbling on cookies.

“Sure, Chester. I’ll be in Miami tomorrow. Just send me the details.”

“I knew you’d make the right decision. I’ll have Logan send you everything. This is going to be huge. I can feel it.”

I placed the phone on the receiver and swung my head to the girls.

“What did he say?” Tish asked.

“He wants me to go to Miami to meet with a company that sells baby soaps. Apparently, they’re wanting to branch out and add lotions and creams. He wants us to meet with the co-owner tomorrow to see if we can work out a collaboration deal.”

“Damn. Well, that sounds like it might be worth it,” my best friend offered.

“Wait ... so you’re going to Miami tomorrow ?” Octavia asked.

“Looks like it,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Tish, do you think you can look at flights for me?”

“Absolutely, babe. I got you.”

“Uh, make that a flight for two,” Octavia added, throwing up two fingers. “I’m going with her.”

Tish glanced at me as she stopped at the door.

“No, Tavia. This is business, not leisure. We won’t have time to do whatever it is you’re thinking about doing.”

“Come on, Vina! I’ll behave, I promise!” she pleaded, walking closer to me, with her hands clasped together in prayer mode. “Please! I’m your baby sister. You love me. Take me with you!”

I looked her up and down, and when she realized I wasn’t going to buy it, this girl dropped to her knees to milk it. “Pleaseeee.”

“Oh my goodness! Okay! Fine,” I laughed.

“Yes!”

“Y’all are a trip.” Tish chortled on her way out the door.

“You have my word I’ll walk a straight line. But once the business part is over with, that’s a whole other discussion.”

“Tavia,” I warned.

She broke out in a laugh as she flopped down on the couch. “I’m just playing, girl!”