Page 27 of Cause When You Love Someone

Her obvious flirting hooked one side of my lips. “My name is Ishmael Harden. I have an appointment with an advisor at eleven.”

She tapped a few keys on her keyboard, then focused on me. “I have you down for a meeting with Advisor Peterson. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Appreciate you.”

I spun around and searched for a seat. The lobby was partly empty, so I sat in a seat closest to the door.

To kill time, I skimmed through a magazine, yet the sensation of someone staring at me pulled my eyes from the pages.

“Can I help you?” I asked the only other person in the lobby.

She dropped her phone into her lap and placed both hands near her mouth. “Are you Ishmael Harden?”

I instantly grew anxious, hearing a stranger say my name. “Do I know you?”

“Not personally, but I love C. Rose. I run one of her fan pages,” she explained. “We’re so glad you’re around and Chaz is out of the picture.”

The sound of the hideaway’s name made me shift in my seat.

Since the night I rode down Chaz’s block, he had been missing.

I hired people to stay around his hangouts when I wasn’t available, and he hadn’t shown face.

I may have let the issue go had Clarke not been pregnant, but the idea of him walking around freely when she was uncomfortable didn’t sit right with me.

“Anyway, I won’t talk your ear off. Just know, The Rosebuds support Superman and Lois Lane. We’re glad you’re around. She deserves to be happy.”

Never one to live off the validation of others, I simply said, “Thank you.”

Of all the things I aspired to be, I never wanted to be famous. The idea of people watching me made my skin crawl, and now, it was my new normal.

“Mr. Harden.”

An older black man dressed in an expensive suit waved me over to a pair of double doors. It may have been wrong, but seeing someone who looked like me in such a high position in education was another confirmation that I was making the right move.

My meeting with Mr. Peterson lasted two hours, but luckily, I made it out in enough time to get Clarke to her appointment. She offered to reschedule, but I couldn’t wait another day to see my baby.

Lately, she had been uneasy about staying at her condo, so I insisted on her staying with me and Isabella. I had to get used to living with two women in a short time, and it only furthered my prayer for a little boy.

“Baby. Are you almost here?” Clarke asked when she picked up the phone.

“Yes, ma’am. Come outside. I’m pulling up now.”

It was still surreal that we were about to be parents, but I didn’t think I could have been more prepared.

I knew God put us through what we may see as a hardship as a way to strengthen our shoulders for the next blessing.

I believed he put me in a position to take care of Isabella so I would be prepared to nurture my own children.

After adjusting the radio, I glanced up to see Clarke stomping to my truck. I moved to get out and open her door, but she snatched it open before I could.

“Ma’am, why are you frowning?”

Her slim nostrils danced on the ends. “Tell me how the meeting went first.”

“It went just how I said it would. I’ll be in school studying computer science forever, but I’ll get it done.” I hunched a shoulder. “Now, tell me who pissed you off.”

“Somebody’s been playing on my phone all morning. I hired people to work on the studio, and I don’t want to change my number.”

I kissed the back of her hand. “Relax for me. I’ll look into the number as soon as we get home. For now, I want you to live in the moment.”

“You’re right. Checking on our baby is more important.” She squealed.

“Woman, why are you yelling?”

“Because we’re having a baby. This is fucking crazy.”

“It was inevitable.”

She slapped my shoulder. “Don’t be cocky. Like you just knew I would be yours.”

“I didn’t believe it when we met, but the night you laid in my bed with your diamonds on, your phone out, and your body nearly naked, I knew you trusted me. I want to give you more reasons to. I love you, Lois Lane.”

“I love you, Superman.”

We sang along to D’Angelo’s debut album until we reached our destination. Thanks to Clarke’s rapport with her doctor, the office accommodated her request for a private appointment. We only needed thirty minutes, but we didn’t want our time interrupted.

We sat in the cold room for all of a minute before Clarke’s doctor walked in, singing her name. As soon as she shut the door, she looked me up and down with a smirk.

“This must be Dad.”

My pretty lady’s cheekbones reached for the roof. “Yes, Dr. Stewart. This is my daddy.”

I cut my eyes to her. “Bad girl.”

Her doctor laughed at our exchange while dressing her hands with a pair of gloves.

“Well, I see how you two ended up here,” she teased. “Clarke, during your last visit, we did a vaginal ultrasound, but today it’ll be on the belly. If my count is correct, you should be about eight weeks.”

Dr. Stewart covered Clarke’s belly with a blue gel and then rubbed the head of a long, gray instrument over her. A sound that resembled horses galloping packed the room only seconds later.

“Baby has a strong heartbeat,” Dr Stewart muttered.

Heat traveled in a slow wave over my face. “Strong like his daddy. Handsome like his daddy too.”

Clarke’s low hoot bounced off the walls as my joke landed. After being apart for weeks, I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing I wouldn’t have to live without that melody.

We made it home close to two, and after having lunch, Clarke announced she was going to take a bath. I gave her time alone while I straightened up the kitchen, but the sound of her screaming at the top of her lungs triggered me to drop everything in my hands to the floor.

Like a maniac, I busted through the bathroom door and froze when I spotted the horrified expression on her face.

“Clarke, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

I searched her body for any signs of damage before a chest-rocking sob brought her to her knees.

“It’s Chaz,” she muttered. “TMZ just reported that he committed suicide.”