"Early artworks by Charley Harper and Edie McKee Harper. Includes 200 full-color reproductions and historical photographs"--

Important American periodical dating back to 1850.

“If after five years you don’t think you owe me at least that amount of respect, then you’re not the man I thought you were Gibraltar. How could you just disappear for eight days with no explanation.” “Look Harper, I told you … it was work. I got called out of town at the last minute. I was handpicked to do that security job. Do you know what it means to be selected to provide personal security for a client like that? I worked 16 hour days; eight days straight. I was tired as hell when I fell into bed at night, and then I had to get up and do it all over again the next day. Look, I’m sorry …" “Let me ask you this … you said your client didn’t want you using personal cell phones on the job. But the last time I checked, there were 24 hours in a day. You worked 16. By my calculations, that left you eight hours to pee, bathe, eat, fart, brush your teeth … and anything else you wanted to do. Did you do all of that?” “Don’t look at me like I have two heads. Answer me dammit!” Harper screamed. “And your point is?” Gibraltar said, folding his arms across his massive chest. “My point is,” Harper hissed, “you had time to send a two-second text or leave a ten-second voice message. Your phone is like an appendage. You always have it with you, so I know that wasn’t the problem. I didn’t warrant a few seconds of your time? Really! That’s what hurts the most,” Harper continued, a sob settling somewhere in the middle of her chest. “You know what I realized as I was worrying myself sick over you those eight days? I realized that you never go out of your way for me Gibraltar. Never. It always – always – has to be convenient for you to have any type of interaction with me,” Harper said on a whisper. “I thought,” she said, futilely trying to keep her cheeks dry of tears, “give him time. He’ll see how happy we could be together. But then there was always that little voice inside that said, ‘He only calls when it’s convenient Harper. Like when he’s had enough sleep, or when he gets the next day off, or when he’s done at the gym, or when he doesn’t have to do overtime.’” “I tried so hard not to be one of these pushy women who’s always pressuring her man to do something. I wanted you to be with me because you wanted to; not because I put pressure on you. I thought that if you could see that I wasn’t one of ‘those’ kinds of women, you’d respect me more; that you’d see what life could be like for us together. But it seems like the more I didn’t ask anything of you, the less you gave.” “But I loved you. I still love you. So I made myself believe that it didn’t matter. That you just needed time. I see clearly now that there was never going to come a time because you know what? Life has a funny way of being ridiculously inconvenient. But when you care for someone …” Harper let her voice trail off. Running the back of her left hand over her cheek to stop another tear midstream, she continued, “But I can’t pretend any more that I'm some modern woman who has all her shit together and is okay with this type of casual relationship.” “I’m not. I’m a real woman with real feelings. And the way you treat me hurts … it hurts like hell,” Harper said. “And it’s been eating away at my soul for a long time.” Harper took her time to dry every tear. Then she looked into the dark-brown eyes of the man she’d loved for five years and said what she knew she’d needed to say for a long time. “I really should probably thank you, because who knows how long I would have let whatever it is we call this supposed relationship go on had this not happened.” “Harper look …” Gibraltar started, feeling the need to say something. “Gibraltar you don’t need to say anything. Your actions have said it all – for five years now.” Harper opened the front door of her apartment. Gibraltar walked out. She closed the door silently behind him and clicked the lock -- on a past that should have ended long ago … and a future that was never meant to be. ### interracial romance, bwwm romance, african american romance, contemporary Christian romance, multiracial romance, short story romance, short romance, christan romance, religious romance

Reprint of the original, first published in 1857. The publishing house Anatiposi publishes historical books as reprints. Due to their age, these books may have missing pages or inferior quality. Our aim is to preserve these books and make them available to the public so that they do not get lost.