Pink, Gold, Silver and White Aura Colors and Meanings: Pink auras are connected to artistic, sensitive, affectionate types. However, if the pink darkens, it shows the individual’s immaturity and dishonest side. Those who are graced with the gold tones tend to be intuitive, wise, and enlightened, but not as much as a person who has silver and white. Those shimmery colors signify the individual is a nurturer, pure and transcendent, ethereal. A true innocent and often spiritual leader.

Today is the day. It’s been two weeks since Dara and I rekindled the physical side of our relationship. Since then, I’ve wined and dined her, sans the wine of course due to her pregnancy. I’ve been seeing Dr. Hart regularly and working on letting things go. My house has already received several offers, making it easier to move on from my past life.

Do I still miss Sarah?

Yes. Absolutely. She’ll always be a part of me, one I plan to keep forever. There will always be a piece of my heart that beats for Sarah and our lost child, but the rest has to stay open for Dara and our unborn baby.

Every day I’m shocked at how easy it is to be around Dara. Spend time with her, laugh, take her out, share a meal. But nothing beats the quiet time where we hold hands and talk about our child, the hopes we have for the baby’s future. All the things I had started to do with Sarah but never got to live out. And every day I can wake up and drive over to the bakery and see my girl with my baby alive and growing inside her is another day toward healing the past.

Dr. Hart has yet to convince me I’m not partly to blame for what happened to Sarah. I still feel guilt over buying her the new car, not doing something, anything to have made her safe. The shit deal is I bought her that car to keep her safe. It had great safety ratings for accidents and the like. Though none of those things can ward off junkies looking for a fix. I still can’t get past it.

I shake my head to force out the negative memories and guilty feelings crawling up my spine ready to latch on to my heart. Today is supposed to be the day where I get to see my baby on the screen and hear the heartbeat for the first time.

This is the appointment Sarah and I only made it to once in three pregnancies. The twelve-week checkup and the beginning of the second trimester.

The minute I’ve showered and dressed, I pull out my phone and find Dara’s name in my contacts.

I press “Lil’ Mama” and wait while it rings.

She answers, her breath labored as if she’s just run a mile. “Hello.”

“Dara, what’s going on? Why are you out of breath? Are you okay? Is it the baby?” I ask, concern coating every word, my heart instantly pumping a mile a minute.

“What?” she says distractedly. “No. I just ran to the phone from the shower. Slow your roll.” She laughs and lets out a long breath as if she just slumped down into a chair. “God, I’m tired.”

“Baby, it’s eleven in the morning. I tucked you into bed at eight last night because you were tired, and then I met Atlas for a beer.”

“You did?” She yawns.

I chuckle. My girl is nothing but sweet in the mornings. “Yeah, it’s why I didn’t stay.”

“Hmm, wondered about that when my alarm went off. You set that too?”

I grin into the phone, hold it with my ear against my shoulder, and put on my shoes. “Yeah, baby. I didn’t want you to miss our appointment. I’m looking forward to this.”

“Mmm, me too. Too bad we won’t get to find out what we’re having for another eight weeks. Pregnancy stuff takes forever!” she complains, and I can imagine her pretty pout, having seen it before.

“Good things come to those who wait. I’m sure your mama taught you that.”

“Seeing as I had to wait eight years for a mama, yeah, I get it, but I want our baby now, not twenty-eight more weeks from now.”

I chuckle into the phone. “I’m going to leave, and I’ll come over and get you.”

“No worries. I can meet you there. It’s close to your work. That way you can do what you need to do at work before our appointment.”

My throat dries, heat engulfs my form, and sweat beads at my hairline and behind my neck. I try to take a breath, but my chest is tightening.

Fuck. It’s that same sensation I had when Whitney was here helping me clean out Sarah’s stuff. I tighten my fists and hold the phone as close to my ear as possible. “What do you drive, baby?” I form the words slow and steady.

“Like a car?”

I close my eyes, images of Sarah getting into the red, shiny Lexus and driving off for the first and last time enter my mind.

“Yeah,” I mutter, locking down the panic that’s beating double-time in my chest.

She laughs. Hard.

What the fuck?

“You’re funny, baby. I don’t drive, and I sure as heck don’t have a car.”

Within a second flat, my heart rate slows, and I can finally take a breath. “Then how do you get around?” I grab the towel I used from my shower earlier and wipe at my face and the back of my neck.

“I’ve got two legs, and I use them. When I absolutely need a ride, I call a taxi or Uber it. Then of course there’s the subway if I need to get into the city.” She laughs again, and the sound is so beautiful I want to say something funny so I can hear more of it. “Not sure if you noticed this, Si, but I work in a bakery that I live above. My hobby is teaching meditation right next door. Everything I need is on this street. Except you, of course, and you have your own car. Why would I need to drive?”

A lightness fills my chest, and I rub at the back of my neck. “That’s smart, baby, and very good. So very fucking good.”

“’K, so I’ll meet you there. I’ll take an Uber. Our appointment is not for another two hours, and I know you need to get to work because I heard you on the phone with your sister Whitney yesterday. Whom, by the way, I have yet to meet.” She huffs into the line playfully.

As much as I don’t like the idea of someone else driving my girl, I do need to get to work, and Dr. Hart would lose her mind if I told Dara she had to wait for me.

I can hear her words already. “Silas, you can’t keep living in the past. Taking chances and calculated risks are necessary. You cannot prevent something from happening. You just need to accept that life comes with the good and the bad.”

“Okay, lil’ mama, you win. Just be careful. Make sure the car is big and safe. Text me the driver’s license plate before getting in.”

“Aye, aye, Captain! Will do.” She makes the cute snort-laugh sound I love. “Get to work. And hey…”

“Yeah?” I ask, not exactly wanting to let her go.

“Think of me,” she whispers before hanging up.

I smile at the phone and then put it in my pocket. “Always, Dara. Seems I can’t stop thinking about you since the day we met.”

Which is true. The woman has been on my mind from the minute I tasted her lips. That drunken night changed my life in so many ways and all for the better.

Glancing at the clock, I realize I need to get to steppin’. I grab my blazer and head for my silver baby, a lightness in my movements and a smile on my face.

I don’t drive, and I sure as heck don’t have a car.

Those words spin on repeat, leaving me smiling like a crazy man all the way to work.

Safe. My woman and my baby are going to be just fine.

---

“How was that, baby?” Mallory coos into the mic through the sound booth.

I sigh and press the talk button. “Great. Let’s give the second verse another go, with the backup vocals live this time.”

The two women standing to Mallory’s side nod.

“You’re the expert, big boy.” Mallory smiles and presses her chest out, smashing the mic stand between her overly enhanced breasts.

I cringe and think back to a couple nights ago when I had my hands pushing a pair of perfect tits together, my dick sliding between them, Dara’s little pink tongue poking out to flick at the tip of my dick as I titty-fucked her. God that woman melts my mind and makes my dick hard as stone. Even now, just thinking about fucking her, I’m getting a semi.

Shit. Not what I want at work, especially when, in thirty minutes, I’ll be meeting her next door at the doctor’s office. Thinking of that, I grab my phone, which has been on silent while I focus on the music, and check the display. Seven minutes ago, I got two texts: One was a picture of a license plate. The other was a picture of Dara, offering me a beautiful smile, her blue ocean eyes gleaming with excitement. Under the picture, there was a single line of text which said the following:

Heartbeat day, Daddy! Woot woot!

I grin and chuckle behind my hand. My girl is such a nut. Though thinking back, this experience is far more hopeful than the ones I had with Sarah. The two times we got pregnant before our daughter, Sarah lost the baby before we could hear the heartbeat. In the second pregnancy, we went in for the twelve-week check to find out there was no heartbeat. The baby had passed somewhere around the eight-week mark, not long after the first sonogram. She had to have a D & C, otherwise known as a dilation and curettage, to remove the fetus. The third pregnancy we made it to the twelve-week mark, but there was no happiness, no smiles. We were prepared for bad news and ended up getting great news.

For me, the twelve-week mark is a mixed bag. This is the fourth time I’ve thought I was going to be a father. Two miscarriages and one death. No baby to hold in my arms or a child to give my name. To say I am excited is an understatement. I am scared out of my fucking mind, but I’ll never squash Dara’s exuberance. The way she lives her life in the light, bringing joy and happiness everywhere she goes, gives me hope that her energy will carry on to our unborn child.

Mallory’s voice cuts through my thoughts, the rise and fall of the harmonies working perfectly. Magical. When they’re done, I press the talk button.

“Fucking magical, ladies! We’re going to have another hit on our hands. Go ahead and stop; we’re breaking for lunch. I have an appointment to get to.”

Mallory jumps up, her boobs practically smacking her chin in the face.

Leaving them to get their things, I turn off the equipment, set the tracks to the right spot for when we come back, and turn around to grab my blazer. I want to look perfect for Dara today. Be there for her, no matter what happens.

Behind me, the door to the room opens and Mallory comes skipping in. “That was so great, Silas baby. You are a master!” She flings her arms around me, pressing her hard breasts into my chest. “We should celebrate. Right now. How’s about I lift my skirt and you fuck me right here?”

“Mal, what the fu—” I try to get out before I feel a tight grip on my soft cock and her lips slam onto mine, her tongue invading. The taste of candlewax hits my tongue from her lip gloss.

Just as I’m trying to push her off, the door behind her opens.

“And this is where Silas makes all the magic happen.” I hear Atlas speaking to someone. “What the hell? Goddamn…”

Before I can push Mallory off, her body is flung from mine, her grip on my dick painful when she lets go. I cower over myself, gripping my cock and wiping my soaked mouth at the same time. “Christ!” I growl, disgusted.

“Bitch, what in the world are you doin’ putting your skanky-ass hands and filthy mouth on my man!” Dara screeches, one hand on her hip, the other pointing a finger.

Mallory is gasping for breath, her body slanted across the leather couch in the back of the booth where visitors sit to watch the acts record. “Your man!” she says with a raised voice and tries to stand.

The second Mallory stands, Dara smacks her face and shoves her back down. “Bitch, did I say yo’ skanky ass could get up? No, I did not! Sit the fuck down before I hurt you.” Her voice is nothing like the sweet meditation teacher I am most often graced with. This Dara is a sista from downtown Oakland ready to open up a can of whoop ass and scratch a bitch’s eyes out.

“Dara,” I try, but she swings around, her face twisted with anger and a hint of hurt in her pretty blues.

“Did you willingly kiss her? Put your mouth on her, let her put her hand on your dick?” she roars.

“Baby, no, but please—” I shake my head.

She lifts a hand between us. “And did you lead this skank on?”

I shake my head instantly because holy shit. My girl is pissed. As in pissed. And I do not want to be the recipient of her wrath.

She continues undaunted. “Last I recall, it was my mouth you were kissing. Me you were fucking. My body that is having your baby!”

“Shit yeah. No way, dude!” Atlas gasps, his mouth opens, which he immediately covers with both hands when Dara flings her gorgeous locks around and glares at him.

“Silas was meant for me!” Mallory stupidly bites out.

Dara tips her head back and laughs. “Girl, you are wacked in the head if you think he’d want fake when he can have all of this.” She runs her hands down the sides of what I gotta admit is a spectacular body. My wife Sarah was beautiful. She looked good. Dara is a straight knockout. No man on this earth would deny that. Petite height but the body of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit model. Normally, she’s sweet as pie. Just apparently not when a woman is stomping on what she considers her turf. And though I hate to think it, I’m pretty fucking pleased and a tad turned on that she’s putting on such a show. I just wish it wasn’t with my cash cow.

“Baby…” I approach Dara with my hands up in surrender. “We have an appointment with our baby doctor to check on our little one,” I say, reminding her what’s really important.

Her shoulders drop, and I slide my hand around her waist, covering our baby protectively. “Mallory, I’m sorry this went down the way it did, but Dara’s my woman. She’s having my baby. We’re building a life together…”

“Righteous!” Atlas says, clearly in awe of the entire thing.

“Silas, baby, I don’t care. I can have babies for you,” Mallory keeps on.

“Bitch! Please!” Dara’s body tightens in my arms, and I swear she’s a second away from getting in another scuffle, this one to knock Mallory out.

Gripping Dara, I turn her away from Mallory and hand her off to Atlas. She snarls and scowls.

I put my arms out and grab Mallory’s hands. “You are sweet, talented, and there are so many men out there who would want to be with you. I’m not that man. I have a woman. Dara. She’s my future, and we’re having a family. Please hear me. This, between you and me, is never happening. I’m sorry. And for this reason, I’m putting Atlas on as your producer. We need to keep a professional distance from one another.”

Mallory’s brown eyes tear up. “But…” Her lip trembles. “I know you could love me.”

I shake my head. “Not when my heart has been taken by another woman. I’m sorry. Atlas, please…” I gesture to Mallory, and he steps up.

Atlas places a hand to my shoulder. “Dude…you have some serious explaining to do.” Regardless, he smiles widely, showing his happiness in the news he’s just heard.

“We gotta go.”

I clasp hands with Dara and intertwine our fingers.

Before we leave, she calls out, “Better stay away from my man, blondie, or you deal with me!”

Tugging Dara out the door, down the hallways, and out the front door into the open air, I spin her around and press her into the wall.

“Si, I know what you’re going to say, but seeing her hand on your package, her mouth on your lips, I lost it. I went a little crazy, but I’m not sorry. She had no right to put her hands and mouth on my man. Those are my lips. That’s my dick!” Her voice is petulant and immature.

I love every fucking word, but the woman needs to shut up in order for me to tell her what I want to say. So instead of hollerin’, I place my lips on hers and kiss the daylights out of her. It takes a nanosecond for her to catch on and participate. Her rigid, angry stance melts into me, her tongue dancing with mine, giving me all of her when she wraps both arms around me and moans her pleasure into my mouth.

After I’ve kissed her long and hard and her eyes are half open and lustful, I lay it out for her.

“Baby, I’m not mad. I should be, but I’m not. You stood up for me against Mallory when you could have blamed me. It didn’t even cross your mind I was cheatin’, and that says a ton about the trust you have in what we’ve got. I fuckin’ love that. Thank you. Thank you for having my back.”

Instead of saying anything in reply, she hauls up on her toes, wraps her arms back around me, and kisses me long and hard at the same time. Her tongue delves deep, and she moves her head to the side and drinks from my lips hungrily, only stopping when she needs air.

I take a few deep breaths, pressing my forehead against hers. “We okay?” I ask, my breath coming in harsh pants.

“Yeah. You ready to see how our baby is?”

“Thank God you didn’t get into a full-on fist fight. Doesn’t take much but your mouth and your quick hands to put an admirer in her place.” I crack the joke, putting an arm around her shoulders.

“You’d do well to remember that. I don’t share, and I don’t like women all up on what’s mine.” Her sass is magnificent and surprising since she’s been mostly Zen this entire time. I mean, I know the girl has some attitude, but it had never reached this proportion until another woman was threatening her claim.

“I agree. If the situation was reversed, no telling what would have happened.”

“Good thing we won’t ever have to worry,” she says, a bit of humor in her tone.

I, however, am not amused. She garners attention wherever she goes. I’ve never been with a woman who gets so many eye-fucks from the men she passes on a regular basis. Restaurants, shopping centers, movies. The yoga studio. Hell, half the people coming to the bakery are men dressed to the nines just wanting a piece of my woman. Her time. Her pretty smile. Her tasty baked treats. I can’t wait until the day she is showing. Bet business goes down fifty percent when those men can physically see they have no chance in hell with the shit-hot baker.

Dara leads me into the waiting room, where we don’t even sit before our name is called. Since we got here right to the minute of our scheduled appointment, I was relieved. Spending thirty minutes thinking nothing but negative thoughts was not high on my list of things I wanted to do. Still, I couldn’t help it. I’ve been in this position before. Nerves were tight at this point.

We are brought into a room, where Dara is told to change out of her clothes. I stay for everything, enjoying her groan when she has to put on a paper gown and place the equally scratchy paper blanket over her lap. Instead of focusing on my anxiety at what the doctor may find, I put my attention on Dara. Rubbing her shoulders and neck, kissing her cheeks, her forehead, nose, and lips until the doctor finally enters.

When Dara lies down, the doctor lubes up the probe for the transvaginal ultrasound. Dara spreads her legs, and both of us look anxiously at the screen. The doctor is silent, clicking buttons and moving the wand until finally…she smiles.

That single tip of the lips from the doctor says it all. Our baby is in there and more importantly…alive.

“There. There’s your baby.” She stops the screen and holds it in place, lifts her hand, and points at the white curved bean-shaped form.

The image increases as the doctor zooms in, and what I’m gifted is absolutely perfect. A baby. Rounded head, profile of a face with a little nose and lips, legs, arms, and back. Then, right before our eyes, the baby kicks its legs and moves its hands.

Tears fill my eyes and fall down my cheeks. My child. Kicking. Moving. Alive.

“Wanna hear the heartbeat?” the doctor asks.

I can’t respond. I just stare at my child moving around inside its momma.

“Yes, please,” Dara says.

The doctor pulls out another contraption I don’t really remember the last time with Sarah and places it over Dara’s belly.

A swish swish sound enters the room. “And that’s the heartbeat, Mom and Dad.”

Dara’s hand squeezes mine, and I force myself to look down at her. “Silas…” she whispers, her own tears sliding down her cheeks. “Our baby is beautiful.” Her words crack, emotion bleeding through them.

I glance at the screen, living for every movement, every swish swish I can hear.

“Yes. Beautiful,” I murmur and then kiss her lips. I give her everything I can in that kiss.

My time. My commitment. My heart.

I pull back and look into her ocean eyes, my own leaking nonstop. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me something to live for.”