The Other Side

by Trice Hickman

Genres: African American Women's Fiction; Women's Fiction; African American Romance

Synopsis

After one too many failed relationships, businesswoman Bernadette Gibson is resigned to singlehood. Yet on the heels of her fiftieth birthday she meets Cooper "Coop" Dennis, a charismatic nightclub owner who literally sweeps her off her feet. But just as they're ready to make the ultimate commitment, a secret from Coop's past threatens to end their relationship . . .

As her fortieth birthday approaches, bestselling novelist Testimony "Tess" Sinclair is hurting—especially since her ex-boyfriend got married. For a change of scenery she travels to the sleepy southern town of Bourbon, NC, to visit her cousin, Bernadette-and finds unexpected love. Yet as wedding bells promise to ring, Tess wrestles with a secret that could end their happily ever after before it begins . . .

Up-and-coming makeup artist and single mom Arizona May is thrilled to be just a few months away from marrying the love of her life. Until then, she and her fiancé are committed to celibacy. But on the eve of Arizona's thirtieth birthday, they surrender to passion—and she discovers something about her Prince Charming that leads her to rethink their plans . . .

Release date: September 24, 2019

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Five Years Ago

Bernadette Gibson had suffered many disappointments in her forty-five years of living, but in all her experiences, she knew without a sliver of a doubt that Walter Pearson was her worst and most costly mistake to date. Their relationship was the reason why Bernadette completely understood how someone could be pushed to the brink of committing premeditated, cold-blooded murder . . . with one’s bare hands.

Bernadette had met Walter at the Prince George’s County Urban League’s Annual Black Tie Gala. She had immediately been attracted to his engaging smile, witty conversation, and charismatic style, not to mention the fact that he was easy on the eyes, with the type of looks that could have easily earned him a spread in the pages of Esquire magazine. She’d thought his perfect diction, refined mannerisms, and air of entitlement were the telltale signs of a man who most likely hailed from a pedigreed family with good genes and deep pockets.

Bernadette had worked hard clawing her way out of the projects of southeast Washington, DC, for the opportunity to be in the company of men like Walter. She’d earned excellent grades in high school, which had given her a full ride scholarship at Georgetown University. Getting into such a prestigious college had allowed her to join the right social and professional organizations, and those accomplishments had provided her access to attend the right churches, socialize with the right people, and land the right, well-paying corporate jobs. This was all in an effort to meet the right kind of man with whom she could build a happily-ever-after life. Walter Pearson had checked off the boxes for what Bernadette had deemed a good catch, and from their first hello, she’d been determined to have him.

“He’s perfect,” she’d told her mother.

“Ain’t no such thing as a perfect anything, let alone a perfect man,” her mother had quickly rebuffed.

“Well, he’s perfect for me!” Bernadette had shot back.

Bernadette loved her mother dearly, but she also felt that her mother’s bitterness toward men often clouded her judgment. Bernadette’s parents had divorced when she was five years old. Her father had cheated on her mother for years before finally leaving her for a much younger woman, the pain of which her mother had never overcome. Growing up, Bernadette couldn’t recall ever seeing her mother date or show affection toward a man, and she’d never supported Bernadette in any of her relationships, always giving her boyfriends a serious side-eye. So when her mother objected to Walter and told Bernadette that he was a snake who couldn’t be trusted, that warning went unheeded.

Bernadette loved that Walter was equally determined to have her—but what she hadn’t realized was that his dogged pursuit was for vastly different reasons than her desire to be with him—and he’d played his hand like a professional croupier, dealing out deceit coated-lies. He’d wooed her with candlelit dinners at upscale restaurants, taken her for long, romantic walks in the park, and surprised her at home and at her job with weekly bouquets of softly hued flowers accompanied by sweet notes that read “Just Because” and “You Mean So Much to Me.” Walter had even cooked gourmet meals for her in his marble-tiled, stainless steel cook’s kitchen, replete with signature cocktails on his sprawling lanai and ending with hours of beautiful lovemaking.

Walter was always on time, always answered his cell phone when Bernadette called, always treated her with respect, and always did exactly what he said he was going to do. Bernadette had known that men like Walter were like unicorns, especially in the dog-eat-dog dating pool of eligible men in Washington, DC. Looking for a good man who was straight, employed, and single with no attachments or serious baggage was the equivalent to mining for gold; the prospect of striking the mark was extremely slim.

“I feel like I need to pinch you, and myself,” Bernadette had said to Walter, “to make sure you, and this, is real. This seems too good to be true, which my mother says it is. And I guess a part of me believes her because no one has ever treated me like this.”

Walter paused for a quiet moment, then looked directly into Bernadette’s eyes. “Bernie, I understand where your mother is coming from because she loves you and she’s just being protective like any parent would. I can’t speak for the men who came before me, but I can assure you that I don’t want any to come after me. I want to be your one and only, because you’re my one and only. I love you, Bernadette.”

Tears formed in Bernadette’s eyes. “I love you too, Walter.”

Statistics had told Bernadette that as a single, middle-aged African American woman with a college degree, making a mid-six-figure salary, living in an upper-middle-class neighborhood in the heart of the nation’s capital, her meeting and marrying an African American man of equal standing was a long shot. She counted herself lucky to have a man like Walter in hot pursuit of her affections, professing his love for her. She thought he was a dream come true, and after a three-month-long whirlwind romance, Walter proposed with a flawless, brilliant cut, four-carat Tiffany ring. Bernadette enthusiastically said yes and within days she picked out a date and began interviewing caterers and florists for what she envisioned was going to be a wedding to rival all weddings.

“Bernie, I don’t trust him,” Bernadette’s mother had said, when against Bernadette’s better judgment, she’d asked her mother to accompany her as she tried on wedding dresses.

“Mom, please. For once can’t you just be happy for me, or at least don’t discourage me? I’ve finally found someone who loves me, and I love him.”

Her mother shook her head. “I love you too much to lie to you, baby. You’re my only child, and I wouldn’t tell you anything untrue or that I thought would hurt you. I’m trying to help you,” she’d said as she’d assisted Bernadette out of the ivory-colored sheath wedding dress she’d just tried on.

“I thought this was going to be a great mother/daughter moment for us, and that it would help you get over your bitterness so you’d find a way to be happy for me. If I’d known you were going to act this way I would have never asked you to come.”

Her mother snickered. “Is that what you think? You think I’m not happy for you because I’m bitter?”

“You’ve never gotten over what my father did to you, and you’ve let your anger and resentment rule your life. But, Mom, as much as I love you, I can’t allow you to poison my relationship with Walter or cast a shadow over the happiness I feel when I’m with him.”

Bernadette’s mother reached out, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Oh, honey, you don’t have a clue. Yes, I might be bitter, but don’t mistake my shortcomings as a reason for why I think your relationship with Walter isn’t going to last. Trust me, time will prove me right.”

Bernadette’s mother/daughter dress-shopping excursion came to an abrupt halt, as did their daily phone calls. Bernadette vowed to surround herself only with people who were supportive of her relationship with, and impending marriage to, Walter.

With more determination than ever, Bernadette continued her wedding plans. She knew that Walter’s custom-built, seven-thousand-square-foot home would be the perfect setting to celebrate what would be the beginning of their fairy-tale life together. His home sat on several acres of land in Prince George’s County, close to a beautiful man-made lake, and Bernadette couldn’t wait to host a lavish outdoor wedding befitting the power couple that she and Walter had become. She couldn’t imagine being any happier than she was today because although at her age she had ruled out the possibility of having children, her dream of growing old with someone was finally within reach. But one month after Walter had proposed, Bernadette’s happily-ever-after came to an end with breakneck speed.

Walter’s work schedule had been hectic ever since they’d met, which made the fact that he always found a way to make himself available to her even more special in Bernadette’s eyes. But after he’d proposed, his long hours kicked into overdrive.

“I’m working hard so you won’t have to,” he told Bernadette one evening over steak, lobster tails, and vintage wine.

She’d been so touched by his dedication to their relationship and the loving care he consistently showed for her that she wanted to do something special to show her appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

Wednesdays were Walter’s work from home days, so Bernadette decided to surprise him with lunch from Panera Bread, which was the spot of their first lunch date. She slipped inside Walter’s house unnoticed through a side entrance near his garage. She planned to set up their romantic feast of delicious sandwiches, savory soup, and tasty pastries in his bedroom and then cap off the meal with an afternoon tryst. She smiled with anticipation because she knew Walter would be pleasantly caught off guard and thrilled about spending time with her.

Bernadette didn’t think Walter was home because she hadn’t seen his luxury sedan when she’d peeped into his garage, so she was startled when she heard his voice booming from the direction of his home office. But instead of sounding his usual calm, confident, and polished self, his voice had taken on a hard edge, filled with the frustration and desperation of someone about to lose control. Bernadette was shocked and momentarily couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Uh-huh, yeah . . . I understand,” Walter said to the person on the other end. “I’m tellin’ you, just give me a little time and I’ll get you your hundred grand in another month or two after I lock up this trick I’m about to marry.”

Bernadette covered her mouth in disbelief as she continued to listen to her real-life nightmare unfold.

Walter smirked on his end. “Yeah, man, the one you saw me with last month . . . yeah, she’s gonna be my ticket to easy street, and once we make things legal I’ll have access to everything she’s got. And I’ll need it, too, ’cause trying to pay for all these fancy restaurants and flowers is adding up.”

Bernadette continued to listen to a story that sounded as if it was ripped from a novel. Walter went on to say that he didn’t have the money to pay off his $100,000 gambling debt because every penny he made went to spousal support for three ex-wives and child support for seven children, not to mention the fact that his girlfriend on the side had just announced she was pregnant with his child.

Bernadette was rendered motionless and speechless in the middle of Walter’s hallway, tightly gripping her Panera Bread to-go bag. But slowly, she summoned the strength to put one foot in front of the other and make her way into Walter’s office.

Walter kept talking on the phone, oblivious to the fact that Bernadette was standing in his doorway. “You son of a bitch!” Bernadette yelled.

Walter’s eyes enlarged to the size of baseballs and his face looked as if he was staring at a ghost. “Baby, I can explain.”

“My mother was right about you!” Bernadette threw the cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade she was holding and hit Walter square in his face, then she reached into the bag, pulled out a steaming hot container of broccoli-cheddar soup and drenched him in the creamy greenish-yellow liquid.

But in that instant, Bernadette realized she’d gone too far because Walter flew into a rage.

“Uuggghhh,” Walter cried out. “You just burned me, you crazy bitch, and you ruined my brand-new shirt. I oughta kick your high siddity ass!”

But instead of feeling fearful of the man standing in front of her, whom she now viewed as a stranger, Bernadette gathered all the years of hurt and bad relationships she’d experienced into the moment. “You ought to kick my ass?!” Bernadette screamed back. Her voice was a mixture of controlled anger mixed with a touch of set-it-off. “I’m the one who should be kicking your ass!” Bernadette said, gritting her teeth. She lunged at Walter, and in one quick motion she picked up the stapler off his desk and launched it like a missile at his face, hitting him in his nose, causing blood to gush.

Walter grabbed his nose in pain, but Bernadette showed no mercy. She reached for the sharp metal letter opener and stabbed it into Walter’s forearm. He cried out again and staggered backward as he pulled the office tool turned deadly weapon out of his bleeding flesh. “Bitch, I’m gonna kill your crazy ass!” Walter yelled.

“Dead men can’t fight,” Bernadette said as she lunged at him with full force. She didn’t know where her strength came from—it could have been from pent-up hurt, feelings of abandonment from her father, bitterness from her mother, unrequited love from her past relationships, or a combination of them all. But one thing Bernadette did know was that her raw emotions led her to fight Walter like a man and beat him to a pulp. But she didn’t come out unscathed. She suffered a fractured right hand and a nasty black eye.

“Press charges and put his butt behind bars,” her mother told her later that evening. “If he tried to swindle you, I’m sure he’s involved in all kinds of shadiness.”

After what Bernadette had just lived through, all she wanted to do was put Walter and his deception behind her. In the days that followed her shocking discovery and violent breakup, Bernadette learned that Walter’s luxury car had really been a rental from Prestige Foreign Cars, and the beautiful home he lived in was the property of one of his real estate clients who’d been living abroad for the last six months while Walter house-sat for him.

Bernadette shared a few details with her mother and poured her heart out only to her close cousin, whom she considered a sister. But she was much too devastated and embarrassed to reveal the full truth to the rest of her family and friends.

Over the next few weeks she retreated into the four walls of her luxurious Dupont Circle townhome and eventually told everyone that she’d realized that she and Walter had been incompatible. She knew that no one really believed her story, and she was grateful that not a soul had pushed her for the ugly details of their breakup, especially after Walter was arrested two months later for wire fraud.

Walter Pearson’s deception had done more than embarrass Bernadette; he’d hurt her to her core, and she vowed to never allow herself to be deceived by another man, ever.

One Year Ago

Tess’s eyes darted from one end of the room to the other, trying to figure out the best way to cause Antwan maximum damage without landing herself in jail. “I’m gonna make that sorry, sneaky, low-down son of a bitch pay,” Tess hissed. “His conniving ass is gonna learn that I’m the wrong bitch to fuck with.”

Testimony Sinclair, or Tess—the name that everyone called her—was so mad she could barely see past the red rage flickering behind her big, brown doe eyes. Her boyfriend, Antwan, had been MIA for the last two days. He’d sent her a text message early yesterday morning saying he was under a tight deadline at work, but her intuition told her that he was up to something, and being the curious person she was, she knew she needed to get to the bottom of what was really going on with him. So this morning she’d risen early, something she rarely did, and driven over to Antwan’s house. She’d parked her car across the street and waited to see what she might discover. Sure enough, thirty minutes later he had emerged, accompanied by a full-figured, Jill Scott–looking woman who was rocking a mile-high afro and a satisfied smile.

“I knew it!” Tess had screamed. She was about to swing her car door open, run across the street, and confront them, but a tiny voice inside her head cautioned her to stay put because if she didn’t it would take a team of armed officers to break up what would ensue. But as she watched her boyfriend and his side chick drive away, a bigger, more forceful voice told her, “Girl, don’t get mad, get even!”

Tess reached into her handbag and pulled out the bump key she’d made a few months ago that would unlock Antwan’s door. After jiggling it around in the lock, she gently opened the door and let herself into his neatly kept house. Her eyes zeroed in on two empty glasses beside a bottle of wine on his coffee table. “That cheating mutherfucker,” Tess said. She picked up the empty bottle of Chardonnay and then sent it crashing into large shards across Antwan’s hardwood floors.

Tess knew she should leave because the little voice inside her head returned and told her that being in her boyfriend’s house like this wasn’t a good idea. But once again, the bigger voice pushed out its weaker opponent and said, “Girl, you’re already in here, so you better make the most of it!”

Tess decided to once again listen to the dominant voice, and she headed back to Antwan’s bedroom.

Once she was inside she was more pissed off than ever by what she found. Antwan was a near-OCD neat freak and always made up his bed as soon as he rose, no matter what. One time when she hadn’t moved fast enough he’d tried to make up his bed with her still in it. But this morning, instead of finding his bed made with military style precision the way he usually kept it, it was a disheveled mess with sheets hanging off the edge. Tess shook her head and ran her hand over her thick mop of curly hair. She felt like striking a match and letting it land wherever it may because she was completely disgusted.

“This is the reason his sorry ass has been avoiding me for two days straight,” she said aloud. “Deadline my ass! That bastard! I can’t believe I fell for his bullshit again. But this is the last time.”

Tess and Antwan Bolling had been dating two years, and in that time he’d repeatedly cheated on her with multiple women, sometimes juggling two women at a time in addition to Tess. One time he’d even cheated with his ex-girlfriend whom he’d broken up with shortly before he and Tess had met. Tess had forgiven him the first time because his “slip-up with the past,” as he’d called it, had happened only a few weeks into his and Tess’s relationship, and they hadn’t made a solid commitment to each other. So Tess had brushed it off and decided that she and Antwan could start anew, as a committed couple this time around. She’d laid down the law and told him that she expected monogamy, and that if he couldn’t deal, he needed to move along.

“Tess, I promise you. I’m going to be faithful to you and only you,” Antwan had said.

“How can I believe you? How can I trust you?”

“My word is my bond, and I’m giving that to you, along with my heart.”

Telling a man that she expected monogamy had been a big deal for Tess because Antwan was the only man she’d ever wanted to be faithful to. They had instantly clicked when she’d met him at her book signing two years ago. She’d been signing copies of her latest novel when a handsome man had caught her eye. His dreamy, hazel-colored eyes, deep dimples, and kinky coily twists of hair had grabbed her attention among the throng of readers who had come to Barnes & Noble to have their books signed that evening. After her event had ended, Tess had been on her way out of the store when she’d spotted Antwan standing near the door. He’d introduced himself and given her his number and the rest was a wrap.

They were both accomplished writers, she a popular New York Times best-selling author, he a highly respected award-winning newspaper journalist. They’d bonded over classic literature, good food, wild sex, and fine wine. No man had ever understood Tess in the way that Antwan had, and his compassion and kindness had made her fall hard for him. But despite his many good qualities, the one thing Tess had noticed early on in their relationship was Antwan’s wandering eye. Every time they were out he’d stare at other women, and if they happened to be very attractive, his eyes would linger to the point of disrespect. Then there was the fact that his phone was always on vibrate or silent, and she’d suspected that was his way of trying to prevent her from detecting whether he was receiving phone calls, texts, or both.

There were other things that gave Tess pause as well, like the fact that Antwan was hesitant about making their relationship public. He’d said it was because his profession—being a Pulitzer Prize–winning columnist for the Washington Post’s Chicago bureau—and hers—being an international best-selling author with a legion of loyal readers—kept them both in the spotlight enough, and he didn’t want his private life to become a public story.

“I want people to know that I’m in love!” Tess had said one night when they’d been out on the town and she’d wanted to post photos of the good time they were having on her Instagram and Facebook pages.

“Why does the world have to know?” Antwan had countered. “As long as the two of us know that we love each other, what difference does it make what others think?”

“It’s not about what others think. Like I’ve said many times, I just want to share the love I feel.”

Antwan was unyielding. “I don’t want to share my life with the world.”

“You post and share information on social media all the time.”

“Only social or political commentary that’s related to my column. I post about the news and world events, but my personal life is off-limits. You know that.”

“Are you trying to keep me a secret?” Tess asked, trying not to frown.

Antwan wrapped her in his arms. “No, I just don’t want to share my private life with the world, Tess. Can you respect that?”

Even though Tess didn’t like or understand his reasoning, she’d acquiesced, mostly because Antwan repeatedly professed his love for her, that there was no one else, and that he’d learned his lesson about fidelity and would be faithful to her. But his promise had been short-lived when, nearly a year after she’d caught him cheating the first time, he’d fallen off the fidelity wagon again.

He’d tried to lie his way out of it, and he’d almost gotten away with his deceit until one of his friends had unknowingly given Tess the wrong answer to a trick question she’d asked, busting Antwan’s bogus alibi. Once Tess confronted him, Antwan had finally admitted that he’d “slipped up” again, in what he’d called a moment of regressive weakness. “I only lied to protect your feelings,” he’d told her. “I love you, Tess, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. Blame it on my immaturity and shortcomings, not my heart.”

Now, once again, Tess was standing face-to-face with Antwan’s infidelity, staring pain squarely in the eyes. The reality hit her, and in that moment Tess knew this wouldn’t be the last time her boyfriend cheated, but it would most certainly be the last time he cheated on her.

“I invested two years into this asshole!” Tess screamed, beginning to see bright red again. “I was faithful to him, and now look at this shit,” she hissed as she stared down at the bra that his side chick had left behind. She sneered. “She’s a young-minded bitch, because if she had to leave her damn underclothes behind as a calling card to me, what does that say about her?” But as soon as Tess said those words she knew that what she’d said about Antwan’s side chick applied directly to her as well. After all, she’d gone through the trouble of having a bump key made several months ago, and today wasn’t the first time she’d sneaked into Antwan’s house to snoop around.

“What the hell’s wrong with me?” Tess questioned out loud. “I’m successful. I’m smart. I have a great personality. And hell, I’m straight-up beautiful with a bangin’-ass body. So why would he cheat on me?”

It was a fact that Tess was successful, as was evidenced by her latest novel, which was still sitting at the top of the New York Times best sellers list, several months after its publication. Her magna cum. . .