Not discussing the book appeared to take some pressure off everyone as they ate, drank, and talked about everything from their childhood, the time they lost their virginity, and the friends they’d made in college. Kayana ate more than she drank once she began to feel the effects of the tequila.
“Kayana, how did you meet your husband?” Leah asked.
“I was completing my internship at the hospital where he was a trauma surgeon when he asked me out. I gave him a hard time because I didn’t believe in office romances. Needless to say, he wore me down, and I finally agreed to have dinner with him. The first time we slept together, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.”
“Was the sex that good?” Cherie asked.
Kayana smiled. “The only thing I’m going to say is it was the best I’d ever had at that time.”
“Have you slept with anyone since you’ve been divorced?”
It was Leah’s turn to question her love life, or lack of it. “No.”
“Don’t you get horny?”
“Not really.”
She didn’t want to tell Leah a recent erotic dream had kickstarted her libido, and she was unable to ignore the slight pulsing in her nether region that occurred when she least expected it. She did not want to believe that the slight brush of Graeme’s mouth against hers had triggered a desire she’d thought long dead.
Cherie popped a tortilla chip with a glob of guacamole into her mouth, moaning under her breath as she chewed and then swallowed it. “Wow, that’s so good. Leah, I know you told us your husband has had affairs, but did you ever have one?”
A mysterious smile tilted the corners of the redhead’s mouth. “Yes. With my reliable vibrators. I have several in different colors, sizes, and speeds. My go-to one is the rabbit with a three-speed rotating shaft that’s guaranteed to make me climax.”
Cherie grimaced. “I can’t imagine putting a foreign object in my body to pleasure myself.”
“Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it,” Kayana said.
“You’ve used a vibrator?” Leah asked.
“A few times,” she admitted. “I was in grad school and not dating anyone, so I bought one and tried it out. It was okay, but I prefer a real penis to a fake one. I’ve been celibate for more than two years, and right now, I’m on the fence about whether I should buy one.” She didn’t want to tell her friends that desire had resurfaced and she needed something to assuage it.
Leah smiled at Kayana. “Since you’re not sleeping with anyone, I’ll text you the specs on my rabbit. You’ll have to let me know if you like it. Better yet, I’ll order one and give it to you as a gift.” Leah turned to look at Cherie. “Should I order one for you, too?”
Cherie waved her hand. “No, thank you.”
Leah shrugged her shoulders. “Suit yourself.”
“Do you know what I don’t understand about you, Leah?”
“What, Cherie?”
“You know your husband is or has been having affairs for years, yet you’ve remained faithful to his cheating ass.”
“I symbolically divorced my husband a long time ago. And now that we’ve had separate bedrooms for ten years, I merely tolerate his wrinkled old ass. A couple of months ago, I saw him naked and I almost barfed. He needed to be fitted for a bra, his behind looked like cottage cheese, and his droopy balls were at least five inches lower than his shriveled little cock.”
Clapping a hand over her mouth, Kayana laughed until tears rolled down her face at the same time Cherie doubled over in hysterics. She wanted to tell Leah it wasn’t nice to talk about the man like that, but held her tongue. When she’d suggested they not discuss books, she hadn’t known it was going to turn into a man-hating session.
Kayana didn’t hate men, not even her ex. His cheating had given her the excuse she needed to get out of the marriage. There were a few times when she was tempted to send James’s mistress a gift basket with a note thanking her for taking him off her hands.
Reaching over, she patted Cherie’s back as she hiccuped. “Take a deep breath.”
Pushing back her chair, Leah stood up. “I’m going inside to get some water.”
“I think I’m all right now,” Cherie whispered. She sounded as if she’d run a grueling race. “I’m a very visual person, and I almost lost my shit when Leah described her husband’s body.”
Kayana nodded. “Underneath her so-called prim and proper demeanor is a homegirl of a lighter hue.”
Cherie nodded. “Leah and I have a lot in common. She lived in a trailer park, while I grew up in public housing.”
“You both were luckier than a lot of folks because you were able to make it out. I’ve counseled a lot of women who are third- and even fourth-generation public housing because that’s all they know. I once had a twenty-one-year-old client who was a single mother with six kids from four different men. She, her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother all lived in public housing, and she loved it.”
Cherie sobered. “That sounds familiar. My mother had my brother when she was fifteen and me at eighteen. She waited until she was thirty to give birth to twin boys, and whenever we ask who our fathers are, she turns deaf and mute. And what I find amazing is that no one has ever seen her with a man, so she had to be sleeping with someone in another town or city.”
“Do you suspect you and your siblings have the same father?”
“No, because none of us look alike.”
“Do you keep in touch with your mother?”
“Not in person. She’ll call me and ask for money, and I usually send it to her. A couple of months ago, I sent her half of what she wanted because I knew I was going on leave without pay, and she cussed like I was a stranger in the street. I let her have her say, and then told her if she needed money, she should go and look for her baby daddies and hit them up. I hung up, and that was the last time we spoke to each other. Don’t get me wrong, Kayana, I love my mother, but I refuse to support her when she refuses to help herself. My mother has a GED, is very articulate, but she’s not motivated to improve herself. I’ve tried to get her to move out of the projects, but she claims she doesn’t want to leave her friends.”
“Change can be traumatic for some people, Cherie, because they fear the unknown.”
“I know that firsthand from when I left the projects to enroll in prep school. It took months before I felt confident enough to speak up in class. I didn’t have the pedigree of the other students, but I was able to hold my own academically.”
“One of these days you’ll learn that having money will not necessarily solve your problems.”
Cherie laughed. “Now you sound like Biggie Smalls when he sang about ‘Mo Money, Mo Problems.’ ”
“I’m a . . .” Kayana’s words trailed off when Leah returned with a tray with glasses and a pitcher of ice-cold water.
“What did I miss?”
“Not much,” Cherie said. “I managed to get over my laughing fit. Whether you know it or not, sometimes you’re funny as hell.”
Leah set the tray on the table and filled three goblets with water. “I’ve learned if I don’t laugh, then I’ll end up crying. And let me tell you that I cry really ugly. My face gets all red and blotchy, while my eyes swell and look like slits. Believe you me, it’s not a good look.”
Because this meeting was different from their first, when they’d discussed Kindred, Kayana was beginning to bond with Cherie and Leah beyond their love of books; now she realized they were more similar than dissimilar. And because they were willing to openly talk about any and everything without fear of being censored, they were confident about making their opinions known. The meeting concluded an hour early with a promise to meet the following Sunday, and Pride and Prejudice was still on the agenda for discussion.
Kayana dropped Cherie at the boardinghouse and then returned to the restaurant, where she put up a load of laundry before turning in for the night.
* * *
Blurry-eyed, Graeme walked out o
f his study on shaking legs to his bedroom and fell facedown across the bed. He couldn’t believe he’d spent the past two days writing nonstop, though he had been forced to take a break to shower, change his clothes, let Barley out, and drink copious cups of black coffee to stay alert.
He was at least six weeks ahead of the contractual deadline, and if he stayed the course, he could expect to submit the manuscript in late August. He knew he’d pushed himself to keep from thinking about Kayana. He’d tried to convince himself that he didn’t want to sleep with her, but that was a lie. Graeme had asked himself over and over what was there about Kayana that drew him to her, and he still hadn’t come up with an answer.
Cooking with her was an experience he wanted to repeat again and again. Kayana was patient, and her tone never changed when she’d corrected him for failing to follow her instructions. Even when he’d attempted to apologize, she reassured him that he’d exceeded her expectations. Not only was she easy to work with; she was also easy to talk to. However, he’d found her to be an anomaly because of her directness. She was the first woman with whom he’d interacted who’d made it known she wasn’t looking for a man to take care of her; she did not want to remarry; and she had relegated her past to the past.
Kayana had put her past behind her, while he was still struggling to come to terms with his. Discovering and reading his mother’s diaries had dramatically changed his impression of her. He still loved Lauren Norris Ogden, but her entries allowed him to understand why she’d done or not done things that hadn’t made sense to him. She’d grown up spoiled, privileged, and doted upon by her adoring father, and was used to getting whatever she desired.
Memories of his unconventional marriage continued to haunt him because he’d been willing to do anything and everything to save his marriage, despite the power struggle between him and his mother-in-law.
Groaning, he managed to get out of bed and undress. Every bone in his body ached as if he’d run a marathon. Graeme had lost track of time when he crawled into bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep after showering and brushing his teeth.
A buzzing sound penetrated his foggy brain, and he’d believed an insect had gotten into the room when he’d opened the sliding doors leading to the second-story veranda. But the sound continued until he realized he’d programmed his cellphone to vibrate. He reached over and picked up the phone without looking at the screen.
“Yes.” His greeting came out in a croaking sound.
“Graeme?”
Pushing himself into a sitting position, he pressed his back against the mound of pillows cradling his shoulders. He swallowed a groan. Every bone in his body ached, probably from sitting in the same position for hours hunched over a keyboard.
“Kay.”
“Are you all right?”
He registered a thread of concern in her voice. “I think so.”
“You think so. You sound terrible.”
He ran a hand over his mussed hair. “My throat feels a little raw.”
“Who were you yelling at?”
Graeme smiled. “No one. Right now, I feel as if I’ve gone a couple of rounds with an MMA fighter.”
“Are you certain you’re not coming down with something?”
“I never get sick.”
“There’s always the first time, Graeme.”
Closing his eyes, he inhaled a deep breath, held it, let it out slowly, and suddenly experienced a wave of light-headedness. “You’re right.”
“What am I right about, Graeme?”
“That I’m coming down with something.”
“Do have anything in the house for a cold or the flu?”
“No. I’ll have to go out and buy something.”
“Don’t bother. I have some here. I’ll be over in about fifteen minutes. Unlock your door and then get into bed.”
“You don’t have to do that, Kay.”
“Don’t argue with me, Graeme. I don’t want you sick so you’ll have an excuse not to take me to the movies.”
He smiled. “Is that all you need me for?” Graeme teased. “To take you to the movies?”
“If not you, then I’ll find another man.”
His smile faded, his expression becoming a mask of stone. “That’s not going to happen.”
“Hang up, and unlock the door.”
The phone went dead, and Graeme realized Kayana had abruptly hung up on him. Moving slowly, he managed to get out of bed, slip into a pair of briefs and shorts and make his way down the staircase. Barley met him as he walked to the front door. He disarmed the alarm, unlocked the door, and then opened the rear door to let the dog out. A light rain was beginning to fall, which prompted Barley not to linger, and he quickly raced back inside.
Holding onto the railing, Graeme pulled himself up the staircase to the second story. He’d just brushed his teeth and washed his face when he heard Barley’s excited barking and assumed Kayana had arrived. An expletive slipped out when his knees nearly buckled as he returned to the bedroom, stepped out of the shorts, fell across the bed, and closed his eyes. What the hell had he contracted that made him as helpless as a newborn?
“You look like shit!”
Graeme opened his eyes to find Kayana looming over him. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Chapter 12
Kayana managed to conceal her shock when she saw the dark circles under Graeme’s sunken eyes. He hadn’t shaved, and his hair looked as if he’d combed it with his fingers. She could not imagine what had triggered the change in his appearance since she last saw him.
“It’s the afternoon. And I thought I told you to get into bed, not on it.”
“I feel like shit.”
“That’s because you’re sick, Graeme.”
Setting her tote on the padded bench at the foot of the California-king bed, Kayana smoothed back the sheet, fluffed up pillows, and pulled the top sheet and lightweight blanket over Graeme’s body. She suspected he’d either come down with a summer cold or a virus.
“I’m going to take your temperature before I give you something.” She took a small case labeled FIRST AID out of the tote and placed a digital thermometer under his tongue until it emitted a beeping sound. Kayana removed the thermometer. “You have a slight fever,” she said.
Graeme closed his eyes again. “I’m never sick.”
“You have a fever of ninety-nine point eight, which means you’re not well, Graeme. By the way, when was the last time you ate?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember? What have you been doing since I last saw you?”
“Writing.”
Kayana could not believe what she’d just heard. She could not imagine Graeme writing so much that he’d forgotten to eat. “After I give you a dose of cold and flu medication, I’m going to see if I can put together something for you to eat.”
Graeme opened his eyes, and she noticed they were dark and glassy. “Why are you doing this for me?”
She smiled. “Don’t you know, Graeme?” she asked, answering his question with one of her own.
“No.”
Kayana rested her hand against his graying stubble. “Because I like you.” She hadn’t lied to Graeme, because she’d come to like him more than she wanted to. He possessed qualities she’d looked for and admired in a man, but more importantly, she’d made Graeme aware that she wasn’t interested in anything that would lead to a commitment. He would close up his house and leave Coates Island before the Labor Day weekend to return to Massachusetts to teach, while she would remain behind to work less, bond with her niece, and take time off to vacation at an all-inclusive resort.
She measured the recommended dose into the small plastic cup and watched as Graeme swallowed it as he screwed up his face. “That’s nasty.”
“I’ll bring you some water and leave it by the bed. I’m also going to go through your refrigerator and see what I can make for you to eat.” He caught her wrist as she turned to leave. “What is it?”
/> He attempted to smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I like you, too.”
Kayana patted the hand holding hers captive. “I’ve known that for a while.”
Sandy-brown eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
She eased her hand from his loose grip. “Yes, really. You’re not very subtle when you stare at me.”
“That’s because I happen to like what I’m staring at.”
Shaking her head, she laughed softly. “I don’t believe you.”
“What don’t you believe?”
“You attempting to sweet-talk me even though you can barely stand up.”
“It’s a good thing I can’t stand up, because I want to do more to you than just sweet-talk.”
Kayana knew he wanted to make love to her, and she also wanted the same thing. They were mature adults who did not have to play head games as to what they wanted. She’d consciously rejected every man who’d seemed remotely interested in her when she was married and after her divorce. Although she’d worn a wedding band, that hadn’t stopped some men from coming on to her, because they knew she wasn’t in a position to make demands on them. After all, she did have a husband, and what James failed to understand or realize was that she’d had more opportunities than he’d had to have affairs. First, she wasn’t able to get pregnant, and second, she definitely would’ve been a lot more discreet than he could ever be. And unlike him, she would’ve never invited her lover to her home, even under the guise of a social gathering.
“That’s something we’ll deal with once you’re better,” she said, smiling.
“Is that a promise, Kay?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
* * *
Graeme felt himself drift in and out of sleep, and when he was awake, he remembered Kayana sitting in bed with him while spooning chicken soup into his mouth. Then he recalled her waking him again to give him another dose of medication after he’d managed to make it to the bathroom on his own to relieve himself. The next time he woke, it was to find that night had blanketed the island.
“Feeling better?” Kayana’s voice came from somewhere in the bedroom.
“Yes. What time is it?” His voice was still hoarse.
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