An Unexpected Love (Women's Fiction/BWWM Romance) Read online

  An Unexpected Love

  by

  Stacy-Deanne

  Copyright © 2015 Stacy-Deanne

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  Email: [email protected]

  Website: http://authorstacy-deanne.weebly.com/

  Check out all of Stacy’s titles at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Stacy-Deanne/e/B001JP7Q16/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

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  Twitter: @stacydeanne

  Readers: Thanks so much for choosing my book! I would be very appreciative if you would leave reviews on Amazon and Goodreads when you are done. Much love!

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Houston, Texas AKA H-town, Clutch City, Screwston, Bayou City and everyone from the H! So throw your H’s up! I am Houston-bred and born, and I love my city! Within this book, you will recognize things original to Houston, such as some neighborhoods, streets, and even a Houston entertainer. It’s H-town pride, baby! I loved writing this book, and it has quickly become one of my favorites!

  I love you, Houston! I’ll always support my beautiful city!

  Author Note

  For anyone who is going through the battles that Layla and Cross face, continue to be strong. You can get through anything with love and support. Do not let shame or fear make you afraid to seek help. Millions of people suffer from mental disorders and live normal lives. You can too.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Aliyah!” Layla Oates ran down her upstairs hallway in the middle of the night. “Shanti!”

  She shielded her face from the rising smoke and the heat of the flames. “Aliyah!”

  She got to her seventeen-year-old daughter’s bedroom and busted through the door, screaming, “Aliyah!”

  “Momma?” Aliyah jumped out of bed. “What the hell is going…”

  “Come on, baby!” Layla grabbed Aliyah’s arm and pulled her out of the room. “Hold your hand over your face! Don’t breathe in the smoke!”

  Aliyah tried to pull her hand away. “Momma, what the hell is wrong with…”

  “Shanti!” Layla ran to her youngest daughter’s bedroom at the end of the hall.

  She ran inside Shanti’s room, shouting, “Shanti! Come on, honey!”

  “Momma?” Sixteen-year-old Shanti sat up with her thick, curly hair wild over her head. “Momma, what’s…”

  “Come on!” Layla pulled her out of bed. “Let’s go!”

  She shoved Aliyah out of Shanti’s doorway and dragged her daughters down the hall.

  “Momma, stop!” Aliyah shoved her. “There isn’t a fire!”

  “Cover your faces!”

  The smoke burned Layla’s eyes and nearly choked her. She got to the stairwell. “Be careful, okay? Come on.”

  Flames shot out from the walls. Smoke rose from the floor. Coughing, Layla yanked the front door open and shoved her daughters out into the humid Houston night.

  “We gotta call nine-one-one, and I’ll get the neighbors,” Layla mumbled as she stopped on the lawn. “What the hell? Why isn’t anyone out here?”

  “Momma, stop!” Aliyah stomped her feet on the porch.

  “Hello?!” Layla ran to the neighbors on the right and pounded on the door of their upscale, two-story. “Open the door!” She coughed from the smoke. “My house is on fire! Please call nine-one-one!”

  “Momma!” Shanti grabbed her mother from behind. “Please stop.” She sobbed. “Please, stop it, Momma!”

  Giving up, Aliyah went back into the burning house and slammed the door. “Man, who the fuck cares anymore?”

  “Aliyah!” Layla ran toward the house with Shanti hanging on to her. “Aliyah!”

  The neighbors came out from across the street. One by one, people turned on lights and exited their homes.

  “What’s going on, Layla?” Layla’s elderly, female neighbor asked.

  “It’s okay.” Shanti waved off the woman. “She’s just confused.”

  “Confused?” Layla whispered. “I’m not confused!” She shoved Shanti to the ground to get out of her grasp. “My baby’s in the house! Aliyah!”

  Layla prayed to herself and ran back inside the burning house.

  ****

  “Some things have changed since you last been here haven’t they, Momma?”

  Shanti followed Layla and Patrick Sham to the courtyard of the Wellington Center for Psychiatric Treatment the next day.

  Layla sat at one of the wooden tables.

  Only a few people were in the yard, but all of them stared at the Shams as if they’d never seen black people before. Even the black man standing by the tree with his mouth opened stared.

  Layla exhaled and propped her arm on the table. Once again, she’d had another episode. Though she’d experienced them her entire life, she couldn’t get over how real they always seemed.

  When she looked up, she caught the gaze of a handsome white man across the yard. He appeared around her age, and looked at least six feet with piercing eyes and short, spikey blond hair. He stared more intently than the others did. While they had eventually turned away, he kept gazing at Layla as if he held no control.

  Layla caressed Shanti’s yellow hand. Everyone said Shanti and Aliyah looked just like Layla, with their wide eyes and fluffy, wavy hair. She never understood how they became so bright, seeing how she was light brown and Patrick darn near purple. Then again, Layla’s mother was bright, and she and her sisters ranged from caramel to yellow. Everyone on her mother’s side of the family had what people considered “good” hair.

  Layla looked up at the tall, attractive, bald black man in the fancy suit.

  Seemed like a hundred years since Layla had truly been in love with him. Even though she and Patrick had only been divorced a month, Layla had already began to feel like she’d regained pieces of her true self…despite her latest schizophrenic flip-out.

  “Don’t worry, all right?” Patrick looked at the pamphlet in his hand. “You’ll do well, Lay. You know this place like the back of your hand.”

  She ran her hands through her thick, long waves. The sun hit the shine of his brown wingtips. “Why are you here?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “I don’t know.” She crossed her legs. “That’s why I asked.”

  “Momma.” Shanti tugged on her hand. “Just appreciate that he’s here.”

  “I’m just asking a question. Lord knows you were sick of all the times I had to come to this place. You complained about it our entire marriage. Why now that we’re divorced are you here, Patrick?”

  “Because… no matter what has happened between us…I still care.” He put his hand in the pocket of his crisp slacks. “I always will.”

  Layla looked at the white guy who still stared from across the yard.

  Patrick folded the pamphlet. “Let’s not turn this into another argument, okay?”

  Layla tapped her foot. “Part of me just wonders if you’re here to support or to gloat.”

  “Gloat?” Patrick shook his head. “Jesus, I don’t know why I came, to be honest. I don’t have to put up with this shit.” He threw the pamphlet on the table, and looked at the street and the sluggish traffic. “No matter what I complained about I was always there for you, Layla. I’m worried about you.”

  “No need to be worried.” She hel
d up her hand. “I’ve done this a hundred times. I know the drill. I’ll do my sessions and group and see what triggered yet another breakdown. They’ll probably put me on even more meds, and I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “I’ve been schizophrenic for a long time now, so I think I got the hang of it.”

  Patrick mumbled and rolled his eyes.

  “I tried to call Liyah,” Layla said, calling her daughter by her nickname. “She, of course, didn’t answer.”

  “Well, you know how she is,” Shanti said. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her. She should be here.”

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised.” Layla scratched her head. “She hates me. Why should I expect her to be here?”

  “She doesn’t hate you,” Patrick said. “She’s a teenager, and she’s frustrated. She doesn’t know how to work through her anger.”

  “She hates me.” Layla glared at him. “Maybe I deserve it. How long should I expect Shanti and Liyah to put up with my mess?” She kissed Shanti’s hand. “You’re young ladies now, so it’s reasonable for you to be angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry at all.” Shanti bent down and hugged her. “I love you so much.” She stood up straight. “Liyah should be ashamed of herself. You can’t help you have a mental problem. She’s so damn selfish. Sometimes I’m embarrassed she’s my big sister.”

  “I just feel like I’m messing up everything.” Layla fought tears. “It’s the same old crap over and over.”

  “You didn’t mess up anything.” Patrick rubbed her shoulder. “I know you blame your illness for the divorce, but—”

  “Isn’t that why it happened?” She sobbed. “Come on. You even said I ruined everything.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “But you did.” She sniffled. “I don’t need excuses or to be babied. I checked myself back in here to own up to my problems.”

  “I didn’t come here to upset you.” Patrick backed away from the table. “I gotta get to the office.” He checked his watch. “Shanti, we better get you to school.”

  Shanti kissed Layla’s cheek. “Love you, Momma.”

  Layla put her arms around her. “Not nearly as much as I love you.” She let her go and looked at Patrick. “I suppose the girls will be staying with you while I’m here.”

  “Like you said…” He shrugged. “You know the drill.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Gamete Intrafallopian Transfer?” Valerie Blakely stared at Dr. Seun from across his desk.

  Her husband, David, scooted up in his chair. “What is that?”

  “Well, it’s one of few options we have left to try.” Seun reclined in his leather chair. “We would collect Valerie’s eggs, mix them with your sperm and then import the eggs back inside Valerie’s fallopian tubes. If it’s successful, then the eggs will be fertilized.”

  “What’s the success rate?” Valerie asked.

  “Around twenty-five to thirty percent. The healthier you are and the younger you are…the success rate can be even better.” Seun tapped a pen against his desk. “Valerie’s thirty-seven and relatively healthy, so I suspect it could work well.”

  “David.” Valerie grabbed his hand and wiggled in the chair. “We…”

  He tugged at his gray-and-white tie. “How much would this cost?”

  Valerie watched him with her eyebrow raised. “David.”

  “What?”

  “It shouldn’t matter how much it’s gonna cost.”

  “Oh no?” He scoffed. “We have to pay for this stuff, Val. Have you forgotten the thousands upon thousands of dollars we’ve already spent on procedures that haven’t worked?”

  She pointed at Seun. “He says there’s a good success rate.”

  “And with all due respect…” David glanced at Seun. “… He said that about the embryo donation, the fertility shots, and the artificial insemination…and none of it worked.”

  “So what if it hasn’t worked?” Valerie grabbed her purse from the floor. “Does it mean we stop trying?”

  “I just need a guarantee this time, Val. What sense does it make to keep putting money into something if it’s not working?”

  “We never tried this one!” Valerie jumped up. “The money doesn’t matter, David.”

  David stood as well.

  “What didn’t work before doesn’t matter, David. Nothing matters, but that this could be what works this time.”

  He put his hands on his hips. “Like we thought everything else was gonna work?”

  “Damn you!” She shoved him. “It’s a chance, David. We have a chance at having a baby. Why would you not want that?”

  “You know I want it, but—”

  “You want it?” She stomped to the door and opened it. “Maybe you can be a little more convincing of that then.”

  She marched down the hall.

  “Val?” He ran in behind her. “Val!”

  He grabbed her and she swung around, shouting. “Let go of me! I can’t believe that God has blessed us with another opportunity, and the first thing out of your mouth is how much it costs?”

  “What do you expect?” He moved aside when a nurse passed. “You act like money just falls out of the sky. We got bills on top of bills because of this.”

  “I can’t believe this.” Valerie touched her forehead. “You don’t want a baby. Why don’t you just admit it?”

  “You know that’s not true. Ever since we met I wanted nothing more than to have a child with you, but you need to be honest with yourself. Maybe it’s not meant for you to have a baby.”

  “Oh.” She backed away with her mouth open. “David.”

  “Val, wait.”

  She walked through the clinic, flying past corners and elevators. “How could you say that?!”

  David stayed on her heels. “Val!”

  “Uh- uh.” She threw open the double-glass doors of the clinic and walked down one of the many sidewalks of the Texas Medical Center.

  “Val, wait.” David ran up behind her. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but—”

  “Then what did you mean?” She flicked her long, wavy hair off her shoulder. “It’s like we have everything.” She leaned against their shiny black Mercedes. “Yet still we have nothing.”

  “How can you say that?” He grabbed her. “I love you, but we got to be realistic.”

  “Everyone thinks we have everything.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “You’re this big marketing executive, and I’m a computer analyst.” She threw up her arm. “We live in one of the most prestigious areas in Houston.” She chuckled. “People see us as this black power couple with the perfect life, but it’s a lie. It’s a damn lie!”

  “Not having a baby isn’t the end of the world.”

  “How can you say that?” Tears rolled down her face. “You know being a mother is all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll do anything I have to.”

  He touched his neat goatee. “You’re…”

  “I’m what?” She lifted her head. “Say it.”

  “Don’t you see what’s happening here? Having a baby…or figuring out how to…is all you think about. It’s like our marriage is nothing to you unless we have a kid. You’re obsessed with getting pregnant, Val.”

  “…says the man who already has a son.”

  He lowered his head.

  “You know how it feels to be a parent, David. Don’t rob me of that.”

  “I just feel like I’m losing you.” He stepped back. “I just want the woman who thought of something other than being pregnant to be there sometimes. I need my wife, Val.” He took his keys out. “Sometimes I feel like you keep me around only to be a sperm donor.”

  “That’s not true.”

  He opened the car with the remote, saying, “But that’s what it’s beginning to feel like.”

  Valerie’s cell phone buzzed from her purse. She got it out and checked the ID. “It’s Momma.”

  She answered it as she got into the passenger’s seat. “What?
… Oh no.” She sighed. “Is she okay? … She thought the house was on fire?... Jesus.”

  David put the keys in the ignition, asking, “She what?”

  “Okay thanks, Momma… I love you too… I’ll give David your love… Bye.”

  As she hung up, David touched her thigh with concern. “What is it?”

  “Layla is back at Wellington,” she explained as she put her phone up.

  “What? Oh my God.”

  “Yeah, she had a breakdown last night. She hallucinated and thought the house was on fire.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Layla walked through the front grounds, checking out any differences since she’d last been to Wellington. She’d probably stayed there more than at home in twenty years of marriage.

  She passed a group of unfamiliar faces on the sidewalk.

  At least she had the means to be in a private facility, as opposed to something that resembled the mental hospitals often seen in horror films.

  Wellington wasn’t a bad place to be. The guidelines weren’t that strict. Except for sessions and evaluations, it resembled a vacation retreat more than a psychiatric facility.

  Others seemed to make the best of the place too. Some played checkers under a tree. Some walked around or talked at one of the many tables. She had yet to see someone she knew, which was strange. She usually found a familiar face when she came back. Maybe their meds or therapy had worked so when they left, they stayed gone.

  A short, fat guy with stubby fingers wandered up to Layla and stopped. “I love your music, Dolly.”

  Layla’s eyes rolled in every direction. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re Dolly Parton.” He rubbed his hands together. “I knew you’d come.”

  Jesus.

  Layla moved hair out of her eyes. “I’m not Dolly Parton.” She held her hands out. “I’m not even the right shade.”

  He grinned, showing the gaps in between each tooth. “Sing something.”