possible.
“Tamara, you know that you can’t believe everything you read in the tabloids. Micah says that he and that model are nothing but friends. At least that’s what he told Kevin.”
Kyra’s words delighted Tamara. She silently prayed that her friend was right because the thought of Micah being involved in a serious relationship with another woman bothered her to the core.
“Whatever their relationship, I hope she doesn’t trip if Micah and I grab a few minutes to sit down and talk when I get to Los Angeles,” Tamara said.
“Tell him that I said hello when you see Micah,” Kyra responded. “I’m so proud of that boy. He came from the Greenwood projects, and look at him now. He left us back here in Atlanta and really made a success of his life. Now all he needs is the right woman to share it with.”
Tamara had to hide her inner feelings as a sense of inadequacy swept over her. She thought about Kyra’s words and wondered if after all this time had passed if she had anything to offer Micah.
Like everyone else, Tamara had her own share of past pain and trauma but she had worked past the betrayal of trust, discovered her wholeness, the experience shaping her in a way that no other has.
She learned early on that along with happiness, life brought pain. Her grandmother had taught Tamara that in order to heal, she had to forgive and that forgiveness is essential as a means of personal transformation.
Tamara still had seeds of unforgiveness rooted in her. She desired forgiveness, but until she could forgive she would never be completely free.
She and Kyra stayed on the phone for almost an hour, talking about their college days and the upcoming Pi Beta Gamma fundraiser.
After promising to get together soon, Tamara ended the call, then stood up and walked over to the window to stare out at the beautiful Atlanta skyline.
“I miss you so much, Micah,” she whispered.
Amused, Micah hung up the telephone, but not before Samantha, the editor of Luster magazine, thanked him for the fifth or sixth time during their conversation.
He took a deep breath and tried to relax now that the initial part of his plan had succeeded.
He and Tamara would finally come face-to-face again after ten years. Micah wasn’t sure how he would feel about seeing her again, so he decided that this meeting would have to happen in a place he could control. It would give him the upper hand.
Micah called and arranged to have Tamara attend the party at the Vanguard Club in Beverly Hills. However, she would have to deal with him first before he allowed her access to Justice Kane.
He wanted a glimpse of the woman Tamara had become, but he also wanted to settle an old score.
His heart bore a permanent scar seared by her rejection. The fact that Micah still harbored deep feelings for Tamara only fueled his anger more. He struggled with loving her and knowing that she thought he wasn’t good enough for her.
A few days ago, he typed in her name while online out of curiosity and found a photo of her on Luster magazine’s Web site. That’s when he came up with the idea for the interview and a way to get back at her.
Tamara looked much younger than her thirty-two years and from the looks of it, wore her shoulder-length hair natural and without chemicals, the warm brown color complimenting her light chocolate complexion and hazel-green eyes.
She’s still beautiful, he thought to himself.
Micah forced himself to remember the way she had treated him. A computer science major in college, he was the quiet, shy geek who tutored Tamara in math during her freshman year—their friendship birthed out of the tutoring sessions.
He had always thought Tamara was sweet, caring and felt extremely comfortable around her. Micah had even believed that she thought of him as more than a tutor. During their time in college, Micah never once saw signs of Tamara being a snob or elitist—she had always been down-to-earth.
His mouth tightened as he thought about graduation night—the night that Micah made the mistake of confessing his feelings for her. He had even planned to propose marriage; however, he never got that far.
Tamara rejected Micah, telling him directly that she would never date anyone like him. She didn’t need him to tutor her anymore. She had landed a job with the Atlanta Daily Journal so she had no more use for him.
It was then that Micah realized he did not know her as well as he had initially thought. He never knew she held even the tiniest interest in writing. Micah knew that she kept a journal, but to him that did not necessarily mean she wanted to be a writer.
It had come as a complete surprise when Tamara announced she was going to work as an entry-level journalist with the newspaper. Her degree was in business and not journalism.
If they had been as close as Micah thought they were, why would she keep her love for writing a secret? What else had she been keeping from him?
Micah Ross was fine.
Tamara laid a back issue of Ebony with Micah gracing the cover down on the chair beside her.
She kept that issue on her coffee table since its release two years ago.
Micah pretty much looked as he did back in college except that he no longer wore those black-framed glasses that Tamara used to think were so sexy on him.
His skin was the color of dark chocolate, smooth and free of facial hair. Those dark brown eyes of his were so intense that she believed they could pierce through stone.
Her heart raced at the prospect of seeing him again.
“I’ve got to talk to you,” she whispered to his likeness on the magazine. “Micah, I feel bad about the things I said to you on graduation night. I really hope you’ll give me a chance to apologize and explain why I reacted that way.”
I never should have listened to those other boys. I realize that now.
The telephone rang.
Tamara checked the caller ID before answering. “Hello, Mama.”
“Sweetie, are you busy right now?”
“No, what’s up?”
“I’m here at Lexington’s Restaurant. Since it’s right down the street from your neighborhood, why don’t you come have dinner with me?”
“Give me ten minutes,” Tamara told her. “I’ll be there.”
“See you then,” Jillian stated.
Tamara went into her bathroom to freshen up. She looked down at her jeans and decided on impulse to change clothes. Her mother would be dressed up—Jillian was always dressed in designer suits and expensive shoes.
I’ve never seen my mother in a pair of jeans or a sweat suit, she thought with amusement. Dressing down for Jillian meant a pair of khakis or linen pants.
Tamara changed into a black linen sundress, silver sandals and accessories. She knew that her mother would approve, as the dress was a gift from her.
She arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes later.
Her mother was already seated. Tamara almost turned around and left when she realized that her mother was not alone.
I should have known she was up to something.
Jillian didn’t care much for Lexington’s but came here because she knew that Tamara was less likely to refuse her since it was only a couple blocks away from her apartment.
“Hello, Mama.” The greeting was forced at best.
Tamara was furious with her mother for hijacking her into a blind date.
“Dear, I want you to meet Anthony. His mother and I went to high school together. He just moved to Atlanta, and I thought you two should meet. Anthony,