Blindsided

by Trice Hickman

Genres: Women's Fiction; Siblings

Synopsis

In this edgy, sexy, page-turning follow-up to award-winning, bestselling author Trice Hickman’s The Other Side, three friends who’ve shared everything—including the same birthday—bond over the triumphs, trials, and unexpected complications surrounding the men they love …
Formerly single, D.C. businesswoman Bernadette Gibson is amazed at what a difference a year makes. Now in a committed relationship with a man who cherishes her, the practical fifty-something is thrilled with the laid-back peace and promise of her new southern smalltown life. But when she discovers she’s pregnant, complications she never saw coming will cause her to question everything …
Fortyish bestselling novelist Testimony “Tess” Sinclair couldn’t be happier with her engagement to successful restaurateur, Maceo Dennis. But he longs to have children, and Tess fears to tell him her real story—she has difficulty conceiving. Once she reveals the truth, will they be strong enough to survive heartbreak they never bargained for? …
Married to the almost-perfect love of her life—it’s a dream-come-true for outgoing makeup artist Arizona Mays. She hopes that the deep connection between her and her hot new husband, Chris Pendleton, will lead him to work out his intimacy problems in the bedroom. But when her past and his secrets collide, their happily-ever-after faces irreparable disaster …
Now as Bernadette, Tess, and Arizona face the biggest challenges of their lives, these three best friends must rely more than ever on their sisterhood bond—and irrepressible differences—to confront hard truths, handle the damage done, and at last secure the happiness they’ve always wanted …

Release date: October 26, 2021

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

One year ago, Bernadette Gibson had moved from the political, power-hungry city of Washington, DC, to the sleepy, sip-sweet-tea-on-your-front-porch, slow-paced life of Bourbon, North Carolina, and ever since she’d celebrated her fiftieth birthday six months ago, her life had changed in sweeping and dramatic ways that she couldn’t have predicted.

Back then, if anyone had told Bernadette that she would be in a committed, monogamous relationship with a compassionate man who loved her without reservation or conditions, she wouldn’t have believed them. If they had told her that the man of her dreams, who had literally swept her off her feet, would be a debonair, dangerously handsome, night-club–owning ex-felon with a sly smile, sordid past, and a reformed trigger-finger, she would’ve flat out laughed in their face. But the most unbelievable and shocking proposition of all was the notion that at the seasoned age of fifty, she would be six weeks pregnant with her first child.

But Bernadette’s late in life pregnancy wasn’t just a shocking proposition, it was a very real and sobering reality, which for her, felt as though someone was playing a twisted joke, toying with her life and her sanity. And as Bernadette had learned over the years, things that happened in real life could tell a more outrageous tale than any work of carefully crafted fiction.

It had been two weeks since Dr. Vu, Bernadette’s OBGYN—who her friend, Arizona, had recommended—had told her that the cause of her round the clock fatigue, increased appetite, and occasional nausea, wasn’t menopause, as she’d originally thought, but rather, the early symptoms of pregnancy. Never in Bernadette’s wildest imagination had she even considered the possibility that she might be pregnant. At her age, she’d thought that the baby boat had sailed long ago to distant shores, never to return.

Now, as Bernadette kicked off her three-inch stiletto sandals, and spread her freshly pedicured toes against the textured fibers of the Aubusson rug under her delicate feet, she closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh of physical and emotional relief. It had been a long and, at times, stressful day, and she was glad to be back in the comfort of her home. Most of her Saturday nights were spent at Coop’s house, on the other side of town, where she felt happy and safe. But as much as she loved spending time there, especially in his king-size bed, she also relished being in her own home.

“It’s been one heck of a day,” Bernadette said, “and I’m ready to unwind.”

Coop’s lips formed a seductive smile. “Baby, you might be tired, but you still look just as fresh as a flower,” he said in his deep, southern laced baritone. “Turn around and let me unzip you outta that pretty dress.”

Bernadette loved the way Coop always made her feel special through his words and actions, and as she followed his gentle command she couldn’t help but smile back at him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Her skin tingled when his fingertips gently grazed across the bare skin of her slender back, which had been aching for his touch. Bernadette wasn’t surprised that Coop had just turned the act of tugging on a zipper into an exciting, sensual event, as he did most things involving their interactions. She wriggled side-to-side, allowing her elegant, knee-length cocktail dress to slide down her shoulders. “That wedding was beautiful, but I sure am glad to be out of this dress,” she said, as she thought about her friend’s nuptials.

Bernadette hadn’t been sure if the wedding was actually going to take place because Arizona had been hesitant about marrying her fiancé, Chris. Several months ago, to Arizona’s dismay and disappointment, she had discovered that Chris had a micropenis, which was no more than an inch and a half long, when fully erect. And, added to that, beyond his anatomical challenges, the two weren’t sexually compatible in any way. Bernadette felt that their relationship was going to be an uphill struggle, and she hoped that her friend was prepared to deal with the troubles that were sure to come her way.

But in true, pie-in-the-sky, optimistic fashion, Arizona and Chris had tied the knot and then partied all night during their lavish, over-the-top, five-star wedding reception that had followed. It had been a day filled with happy tears, sentimental speeches, and nonstop dancing and celebration that had continued into the evening.

It was nearly midnight by the time Bernadette and Coop had finally left the St. Hamilton, the luxury hotel where Arizona’s and Chris’s reception had been held, and which happened to be only a short drive from Bernadette’s exclusive neighborhood in the tony Palisades section of Bourbon. When she and Coop had walked through her front door ten minutes ago, she had felt an immediate sense of calm envelop her tired body. Other than the comfort of Coop’s bed, Bernadette’s home was her second favorite place to be. Not only had she grown to enjoy her home, she’d grown to love the town of Bourbon.

Living in the small, eastern North Carolina town was yet another thing that Bernadette would have never imagined for herself. She was a city girl, through and through, Washington, DC, born and bred. She had loved the excitement and adrenaline rush that came with living and working in the day-to-day bustle of the Nation’s Capital. But last year when a lucrative job offer had brought her to Bourbon—whose claim to fame was its vinegar-based, pit-cooked barbeque and unbelievably sweet iced tea—she had packed up her fast paced but lonely life in the city, and traded it for the quiet, church mouse existence in a tiny southern town that she had now grown to cherish. Now, standing in the middle of her bedroom, with the man she loved, Bernadette knew that coming here was the best decision she had ever made.

“I knew you were tired after that last line dance,” Coop said.

“I must’ve given it away when I started limping,” Bernadette said with a laugh. She looked down at her designer dress that was puddled around her sore feet and swollen ankles. Normally, an expensive piece of clothing laying on the floor would have bothered her, not to mention the irritation of her aching extremities. But like many things in her life, she had learned not to sweat the small stuff. “Thank you, for unzipping me,” Bernadette whispered to Coop.

He tossed her a sexy smile. “I should be thankin’ you.”

“You’re something else,” Bernadette said with a slight blush.

“My job is to make you happy every day that you open your eyes.”

Bernadette tried to muffle the yawn that was on the verge of breaking free from her mouth, but she was too exhausted to contain it.

“That wasn’t the reaction I’d expected, but I’ll take it,” Coop chuckled.

“I’m sorry honey, I thought I was tired before, but I’m really struggling now.”

Coop reached for Bernadette and drew her into his broad chest. “It’s okay, I was just teasin’ you. I know it’s been a long day.”

“Yes, it has, from sunup until sundown. I’m exhausted, aren’t you?”

Coop grinned and unbuttoned his crisp, white dress shirt. “Honestly, I feel great. Like I could run a marathon.”

Coop’s intensity always amazed Bernadette. In her position as vice president of operations at Bourbon General Hospital, she was used to being around Type-A corporate executives who operated at a high level, but being with Coop made her realize that he could run circles around everyone in the hospital’s c-suite, including her. From the time they had started dating, right after her birthday five months ago, Coop had always tackled every endeavor with the intense energy of an engine running full speed ahead. He was a laser-focused man with the ability to multi-task better than anyone she knew. Between his successful and wildly popular jazz club, Southern Comfort, his highly foot-trafficked laundromats sprinkled throughout town, his multiple rental properties, and his financial investments in several black-owned businesses in Bourbon, Coop was the busiest man that Bernadette knew, and his drive was just one of the many reasons why she admired him.

“You have way more energy than I do,” Bernadette said with another yawn. “The only running I want to do is straight over to that bed. I’m going to take a shower and . . .”

“I’ll join you,” Coop quickly interrupted, giving Bernadette a big smile.

A twinge of anxiety tugged at Bernadette’s stomach because she knew that Coop wanted to make love. That’s how I got myself in this situation in the first place, she said to herself as she looked down at her swollen ankles. Her constant fatigue and bouts of nausea were just a hint of what she knew was ahead for her. She rested her hand on her still flat tummy, knowing that in a few months it would reveal what she was hiding. She knew she needed to tell Coop that she was pregnant because this was the kind of life-changing news that needed to be shared sooner rather than later.

Bernadette thought the words “pregnant at fifty” were more fitting for the title of a reality TV show, or a headline grabbing news article, than her real life. She knew that she would be disappointed if Coop had been withholding any kind of information that directly involved her, so she had to come clean. Bernadette closed her eyes, let out a deep breath, and looked directly into Coop’s eyes. “Coop, I . . .”

Bernadette’s life altering words were perched on her tongue when Coop interrupted her once again. “Baby, I know you’re tired, and that’s exactly why I’m gonna join you in the shower.”

Coop’s words caused her mind to shift from divulging her secret, to the fact that doing something that normally brought her great pleasure, was now causing her temples to throb. Any other time she would have looked forward to what she knew would result in a steamy, sex-fueled romp with Coop as warm water rained on their skin, but not tonight. Bernadette’s aching body and lack of energy gave her pause. “Honey, we both know that if you join me in the shower I’m going to be beyond tired once we finish.”

“Woman, get your mind out the gutter.” Coop shook his head and placed his hand on the small of Bernadette’s back as he pulled her close to him. “Remember that subscription to Men’s Health magazine that you got me?”

“Yes, I remember,” Bernadette responded, slightly puzzled.

“There was an article in there that said water massage is good for tired muscles and stress. And since I know you’ve been stressed on your job, which is probably why you’ve been so tired lately, I was thinkin’ a massage in the shower might help.”

Bernadette’s voice became soft and delicate. “You really are something, Coop.”

He smiled. “So I’ve been told.”

Twenty minutes later—after a short, but passionate and intense lovemaking session in Bernadette’s large, marble tiled shower—she and Coop lay atop her bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I told you I could help you relax in the shower,” Coop said with a satisfied grin.

“Yes, you did. And as usual, you were right. But so was I, because now I’m exhausted.”

“But you have to admit, it was worth it.”

Bernadette nodded. “Yes, it was.” She repositioned herself so she could look into Coop’s eyes. She felt as though she could melt when she thought about how Coop’s gentle and initially innocent massage had turned into carnal-fueled lovemaking. He had lathered her loofah sponge with her favorite L’Occitane bath gel, covering her body with fragrant suds as he washed her soft brown skin. As he had promised, his slow, sweeping movements had indeed relaxed her, and they had also excited her.

Bernadette had collapsed her back against Coop’s broad chest as he cupped her breasts in each hand and massaged them with care, tweaking her nipples between his fingers with just the right amount of pressure. Slowly he glided his strong hands down to her stomach before making his way to her delicate middle. He inserted his finger and caressed her, lingering in her hot spot until he knew that she was ready for him. He gently turned her so she was facing him, and he kissed her with quick heat as he positioned her against the shower wall.

Bernadette gasped with sweet pleasure when she felt Coop slowly enter her at just the right angle, with the perfect amount of force as he eased every inch of his hardened manhood inside of her. He took his time, delivering long, deep strokes that made her body tremble under his direction until she reached a powerful climax that had her calling out his name. She whimpered with pleasure into his chest as he quickly followed her lead, leaving them both with satisfied smiles on their faces.

“I was running on fumes before that shower, and now my gas tank is sitting on E.”

Coop slipped Bernadette a sly smile. “I guess I should apologize, huh?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Bernadette said with a light laugh as she nestled further into his arms. “Coop, what am I going to do with you?”

“That’s a good question . . . How about, marry me.”

Bernadette looked into Coop’s piercing, deep brown eyes, which were staring directly into hers. Even though she’d heard what he had just said, and knew exactly what his words meant, she asked for clarification. “What?”

“Bernie, I love you.” Coop paused and then took a deep swallow, as if something were lodged in his throat. He looked at Bernadette with a soft vulnerability that she had never seen before. “From the moment I first laid eyes on you, struttin’ through the lobby of the hotel the night of Arizona’s birthday party, I knew you were special, and after our first date, I knew that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I can honestly say that I’ve been happier the last five months than I’ve ever been in my entire life, and it’s because of you. I want you to be my wife.”

Bernadette was not only caught off guard by Coop’s proposal, she was slightly startled by the fact that for the first time since she had met him, he seemed nervous. But even with his slight shift in confidence, his steady eyes were still fixed on hers as he gave her hand a tender squeeze while trying to regain his composure.

“Back in the day,” Coop said as he continued, “old folks used to say, ‘you’ll know when you know.’ I didn’t understand what that meant back then, but now that I’ve done some livin’, I see what they meant. We’ve only been datin’ a short time, but I know what I feel, and I know this is right. Like I said, I want you to be my wife, Bernie, and I hope you want me to be your husband.”

Bernadette stared at Coop, wanting to speak, but unable to say a word.

“I know this isn’t the traditional, get down on one knee kind of proposal,” Coop said, “but we’re not the traditional type of couple. You and me come from two very different worlds. You got your degree from a prestigious university, while I got mine through correspondence courses in prison. You work around professionals every day in a fancy corner office, while I conduct business between laundromats and rental houses in low-income neighborhoods. You live here in the most affluent part of town, while I stay in what’s considered the wrong side of the tracks. We move in very different circles. But what I love about us, is that we fit where it counts.”

Bernadette’s heart was beating so fast that she had to sit up in order to calm herself. The moment was more than she had expected, and her mouth was dry with the weight of it. She was overjoyed with happiness about Coop’s proposal, overwhelmed with anxiety about her pregnancy, and filled with confusion about another secret that she’d been keeping—one which included Coop, and his involvement in an unsolved murder that could possibly destroy their future.

Coop planted a gentle kiss upon her bare shoulder. “I want you to be the first thing that I wake up to every morning, and the last thing that I see when I close my eyes at night.”

There was a long pause between them, and although Bernadette knew she couldn’t tell Coop about her suspicions that tied him to a cold case which had recently resurfaced, she knew she had to tell him what her OBGYN had told her during her visit a few weeks ago. She couldn’t accept his proposal until he knew exactly what he was getting himself into, so she came out and said, “Coop, I’m pregnant.”

“It’s been a long day,” Tess said to Maceo as they walked through the metal and wood, industrial-designed door that led into his sparsely furnished condo. It was shortly after midnight, and they were both tired from a full day of non-stop action. They had celebrated and danced all night at Tess’s friend Arizona’s beautiful church wedding and extravagant dinner reception that had followed.

Much like her cousin, Bernadette, Tess had been unsure if Arizona would actually go through with marrying her fiancé, Chris, because the two had been having serious problems, which unfortunately centered around sexual dysfunction. Tess and Bernadette had sat on uneasy nerves, sending multiple texts between them while they wondered if Arizona was going to walk down the aisle.

It wasn’t until the processional music had begun to play that they’d finally relaxed, knowing that Chris wasn’t going to get stood up at the altar. Tess had breathed a complicated sigh of relief that had been laced with a heavy dose of lingering doubt. She had been relieved that Arizona had averted the drama of earning the label of “runaway bride,” but she’d also felt doubt because her gut had told her that her friend was making a big mistake by signing up for a life that Tess knew Arizona would no doubt come to regret.

Tess stepped out of her champagne colored, three-inch Valentino heels and planted her long, narrow, bare feet against the cool-to-the-touch hardwood floors beneath her as she smiled at Maceo. “I had so much fun tonight,” she said in a tired voice, “but I sure am glad to be off my feet because they’re killing me.”

“Or as Sandy would say, your dogs be howlin’,” Maceo teased, referring to his long-time and less than tactful hostess and server at Sue’s Brown Bag, the popular soul food restaurant he owned that was named after his dearly departed mother, and was a local favorite of residents throughout town. He looked down at Tess’s stylish shoes that she had just taken off and sat near the door. “I don’t know how women do it.”

“Very carefully, and in my case, with great style,” she said as she tossed Maceo a quick wink.

“Yes, I see, and I agree.” Maceo stepped out of his equally stylish wingtips and placed them beside Tess’s heels. “I know it must be hard, but it’s worth the effort because baby, you look sexy.”

Tess gave Maceo a seductive look as she walked toward his chef grade, galley kitchen. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes, I’m glad you do.”

“I need some water because all that wine that I drank at the reception has me feeling dehydrated.” Tess opened his impressive stainless steel, Sub Zero refrigerator and studied its contents. She always felt in awe by how neat and organized Maceo kept his home, and in particular, his kitchen. He was a chef and restaurant owner by profession—which accounted for his meticulously arranged fridge and pantry—and he was a neat freak by nature, which accounted for all other areas of his well-organized life.

Tess was always amazed by how much they differed when it came to domesticity. Maceo cleaned his condo to perfection each week, while she relied on a housekeeping service for weekly cleaning of the luxury home that she owned in Chicago. He enjoyed going to the local farmer’s market and browsing the aisles for fresh produce, while she preferred to use home delivery for the rare occasions that she bought groceries. He could cook anything from appetizing gourmet meals to a smack-yo-mama soul food feast, while her go-to dish was a mean turkey sandwich. “We’re polar opposites in almost every way,” she often said.

Tess held the refrigerator door open, trying to decide between regular bottled water or the sparkling Voss sitting on the top shelf. “What should I drink, the regular or the good stuff?” she causally asked Maceo, partly because she couldn’t make up her mind, but mostly because she always wanted his opinion on all matters involving food and beverages.

“Regular, good ol’ Dasani,” he said in his deep, laid back voice. “Carbonation might be a little too much right now.”

“You’re right,” Tess smiled as she glanced back at him. “You want a bottle?”

“No, I’m good,” Maceo answered. He walked over to Tess and gently rested his hand on the small of her back. “It was a nice wedding, huh?”

“Yes, it was.” Tess nodded in agreement. She kept her back to him and aimed her sights squarely on the contents inside his refrigerator. She knew that he had made the comment in order to spark a conversation, and she was hoping to avoid the question that she was certain was going to come next.

“Can I ask you something?” Maceo said in an inquisitive tone.

Uh-oh. Here it comes, Tess thought to herself. She knew what Maceo was going to ask her, and she knew it was a logical and reasonable question—when were they going to set a date and start planning their own wedding.

It had been over a month ago when Maceo had cooked Tess a late-night gourmet dinner, complete with candles, flowers, and her favorite Chardonnay, before he had dropped to one knee and presented her with a beautiful engagement ring. His proposal had been heartfelt and romantic, and Tess had been overjoyed, readily saying yes. The next day she had been giddy with excitement when she had called her mother, and then Bernadette, followed by just a handful of close friends.

When Tess had met Maceo just five short months ago, she had been on the heels of recovering from a traumatic break-up that had left her devastated. Maceo’s kind and gentle ways had helped soothe the damage of Tess’s broken heart. She loved the fact that he was a Southern gentleman with a laid-back swagger that was smooth and easy. His rich, honey-hued skin was smoother than most women’s, and his sculpted physique added to Tess’s visceral and instant attraction to him. And as her cousin, Bernadette, and her friend, Arizona, had both pointed out, they were a good match, because Maceo’s calm, no-drama demeanor was the perfect balance to Tess’s rambunctious and often melodramatic personality.

After Tess had shared the good news of her engagement with the chosen few, she’d almost immediately begun to feel a combination of guilt and nerves gnaw at the pit of her stomach, not because she hadn’t been in love with Maceo, nor because she’d thought they were rushing in too soon. She’d felt apprehensive because of a secret that she’d been hiding, and was still holding onto, even today.

From the beginning of their whirlwind romance, Maceo had made it clear that he wanted to settle down, get married, and have children. During their second date, he’d let Tess know his desires while they dined on steak and lobster tails.

“I’ve seen and experienced a lot in my thirty-five years,” Maceo had said, “and life has taught me that time isn’t going to wait around for me or anyone else to get our act together. It’s fluid, and it moves forward, regardless of the struggles going on in your own world. So you have to approach everything you do with purpose and intention. I want to have a real impact on this earth, and I want to leave a legacy behind once I’m gone.”

“Through your business and the community work that you do?” Tess had asked.

Maceo smiled and shook his head. “Through a family. There’s no better way to leave your footprint on this earth than by having others to carry on once you’re gone.”

Tess loved the fact that Maceo was a solid, selfless, hard-working man of conviction who saw life beyond his own existence. He valued stability and discipline. He stood his ground on matters of integrity and honor. He was honest and straightforward. And best of all, he was the most genuine and sincere man that Tess had ever dated. She often had to remind herself that he was real, and that their relationship wasn’t fanciful fiction like the books she wrote.

Tess knew that along with Maceo’s philosophical thinking, his desire to be a father and raise a family was heavily driven by the fact that he’d grown up without his own father, or a sense of connection to a traditional family structure. And what shaped his view even more was the fact that five years ago a paternity test had proved that the daughter whom he’d help raise alongside his adulterous ex-wife, hadn’t been his biological child. “It nearly broke me,” Maceo had told Tess, “but it made me realize that, as cliché as it may sound, what doesn’t kill you will truly make you stronger. After I healed from the pain and betrayal, I learned that I can handle anything that life throws at me.”

Tess had thought about that conversation many times, and when she remembered the emotion that had peppered Maceo’s words about wanting children of his own, it made it that much harder for her to tell him about her challenges.

A loving husband, at least two children, and perhaps even a family pet, had been Tess’s dream life ever since her mid-twenties. But as she looked at her current situation, she knew that her chances of conceiving were about as likely as accurately predicting a seven-day weather forecast in North Carolina—the prospects of which were slim to none.

Tess had been told by her gynecologist, as well as two of the best fertility specialists in Chicago, that her fibroids and endometriosis, combined with her being forty years old, had culminated into the sad reality that she had a less than five percent chance of becoming pregnant, even with the help of medical intervention. Tess knew that she needed to tell Maceo about her condition, because he deserved to know that if he married her, he probably would not have the biological children that he longed for.

Tess knew that Maceo was growing tired of her excuses for why sh. . .