Dare to Dream by Donna Hill Page B

Although he was not part of the community’s rich past, he wanted to ensure that he would be part of its future.
    The beauty, the history, the inhabitants, none of it mattered. Not today. All he wanted to do was put some distance between him and Desiree.
    How could she have grown so cold? She was not the woman he remembered, although there were moments when the old spark of love and passion was reflected in her eyes. But her tone was as chilling as an arctic blast.
    Didn’t she realize that she wasn’t the only one who was hurt, who suffered? Instead of them dealing with it together, she’d turned on him as if he’d become the enemy. She’d refused to listen to reason, and one night when he’d come in from work all that she’d left behind in their one-bedroom apartment was her scent and a note.
    All his attempts to reach her failed. He even went to Pratt Institute where she taught art appreciation classes, and he wasn’t allowed past security.
    He’d been so angry during those days. Some nights he would prowl the streets of New York City until sunrise. Other nights he would visit the local bar and drink until Stewart, the bartender, had to send him home in a cab or take him home himself.
    “Whatever or whoever has your head all screwed up isn’t worth killing yourself over,” Stewart had warned one rainy September night.
    “Just keep filling my glass with the Jack Daniel’s and we can stay friends,” Lincoln slurred, trying to merge the two Stewarts into one.
    “I think you’ve had more than enough for tonight.” He took away Lincoln’s glass and wiped down the space in front of him with a damp off-white towel. “You just chill for a few and I’ll drive you home after I lock up.”
    “That will be necessary,” Lincoln mumbled.
    Stewart smirked and shook his head. “Who is she?” he asked.
    Lincoln looked up at him through bleary eyes.
    “She was gonna by my wife,” he muttered. “We had plans, but she left me.”
    “Did she have a reason?”
    “Said…she didn’t love me anymore. Just like that.” He tried unsuccessfully to snap his fingers. “But she’s lying. She has to be lying. ’Cause I know I still love her, so she’s gotta still love me, too. Ya know?”
    “Give it some time. Maybe she’s just running scared.”
    “You really think so, man?” he asked, the first spark of hope in his voice.
    “Yeah, just give it some time.”
    * * *
    And that’s what he’d done. It had been five long years and his feelings were as strong for Desiree now as they were then. Every day he’d wake up and hope that the ache would be gone, but it wasn’t. He’d tried to bury his loneliness and his hurt in the bodies of other women over the years, but it didn’t help. If anything it only made him realize that no one would be able to take her place in his heart.
    Finally, he’d resigned himself to being alone or at least not in a committed relationship—and then she turned up on his doorstep.
    He knew he couldn’t spend the rest of his life in this emotionless limbo. What he needed was closure. He needed answers. He hoped to find them in New York.
    * * *
    Rachel just finished bawling out Javier when the front door to Honey Child opened. Good home training kept her from doing a double take and letting her mouth drop open. She put on her best smile.
    “Felicia, finish up with this order,” she said to her new assistant, while keeping her eye on her unexpected visitor. “Lincoln.” She came from behind the front desk with her hands extended.
    He took them and kissed her cheek. “Looking good as always, Rachel.”
    She blushed. “Always the charmer,” she volleyed.
    “Is there someplace where we can talk?”
    “Sure.” She turned to Felicia. “I’ll be in the back.” She led Lincoln into her small, cluttered office and shut the door. “Please, have a seat.”
    Lincoln sat on the edge of a wing chair and crossed his right ankle over his left thigh. “I’m not going to waste your time