Temptation - Brenda Jackson [47]
He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa. “Why you were so quick to assume the worst of me. Why you don’t think I can care for you and refuse to believe that I’d want to develop a serious relationship with you.”
“Why should I think you care and would want to develop something serious with me? No one else has before.”
“I can’t speak for those others, Sheila. I can only speak for myself.”
“So you want me to believe it was more than just sex between us?” she asked stiffly.
“Yes, that’s what I want you to believe.”
It’s a good thing he understood her not wanting to believe. How many times had he wanted to believe that if he got involved with someone seriously, they wouldn’t just eventually disappear? And he knew deep down that’s why he couldn’t fully wrap his arms around the Travers family. A part of him was so afraid he would wake up one day and they would no longer want to include him in their lives. Although they had shown him more than once that was not the case, he still had those fears.
He stood and walked to the window and looked out. It was getting dark outside. He scrunched up his brow wondering why all those pink flamingos were across the street in Sheila’s neighbor’s yard and then remembered the TCC’s fundraiser.
Drawing in a deep breath, he turned around to glance over at Sheila. She was watching him, probably wondering what he was about. What he had on his mind. “You know you aren’t the only one who has reasons to want to be cautious about getting involved with someone. The main reason I shy away from any type of serious relationship is thinking the person will be here one day and gone the next.”
At her confused expression he returned to sit beside her on the sofa. “My mother left me, literally gave me up to my aunt when I was only five. In other words, I was abandoned just like Sunnie. I didn’t see her again until I turned nineteen. And that was only because she thought with my skills as a football player in college that I’d make the pros and would be her meal ticket.”
He saw the pity that shone in Sheila’s eyes. He didn’t want her pity, just her understanding. “Since Mom left me, for a long time I thought if I did anything wrong my aunt would desert me as well.”
“So you never did anything wrong.”
“I tried not to. So you see, Sheila, I have my doubts about things just like you.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment and then asked, “What about your father?”
He leaned back on the sofa. “I never knew my father growing up. My aunt didn’t have a clue as to his identity. My mother never told her. Then when I was in college, the craziest thing happened.”
“What?” she asked, sitting up as if she was intrigued by what he was telling her.
“There was a guy on campus that everyone said looked just like me. I finally ran into him and I swear it was like looking in the mirror. He was younger than me by a year. And his name was Colin Travers.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes, but we didn’t know we were brothers because I was named Ezekiel Daniels at birth. Colin found our likeness so uncanny he immediately called his father. When he told his father my name, his old man remembered having a brief, meaningless affair with my mother years ago, before he married. He also remembered my mother’s claim of getting pregnant when the affair ended. But she’d also made that claim to another man. So he assumed she was lying and had his attorney handle the situation. My mother wasn’t absolutely sure Travers was my father, so she let it go.”
“When your father finally discovered your existence, how did he treat you?” she asked.
“With open arms. All of his family welcomed me. His wife and my five brothers and one sister. At his request, on my twenty-first birthday, I changed my last name from Daniels to Travers and to this day that’s all I’ve taken from him. And trust me he’s offered plenty. But I don’t take and I don’t ask. Since acknowledging him as my father twelve years ago, I’ve never asked him for a single thing and I don’t intend to.”
“And who is your father, Zeke?”
“Matthew Travers.”
Her mouth dropped open. “The self-made