by Donna Hill
The truth was, he was still too uncomfortable at her apartment—the one she’d shared with Quinn. He couldn’t understand why she’d never given the place up.
“Sounds heavenly.” Her stomach clenched.
Grant kissed the top of her head. “It’s only just begun. I want to show you just how much you’ve been missed.”
San Francisco
Maxine moved quietly through the two-story town house, humming softly right on key to Whitney and CeCe’s tune from the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack—man, she loved that song—opening windows, pushing back curtains, watering plants and simply enjoying a lazy Sunday morning. “Count on me through thick and thin, a friendship that will never end,” she crooned in her sultry alto. Yeah, that was her song.
She trotted downstairs and opened the front door to retrieve the papers. She was anxious to see what kind of deals the airlines were running this week. She grinned and shook her head, strolling into the sunny kitchen on the ground floor. If it wasn’t one airfare war, it was another. Made her job an exercise in ingenuity. And hot damn if she wasn’t good at it!
Her favorite mug, one that she’d found in an old antique shop in the downtown bay area one Saturday afternoon, hung from a little rack in the corner by the microwave. It was a good old mug, she mused, taking it from its hook. Had a little chip in it right along the rim. Sometimes it reminded her of the chip in Dre’s front tooth. She smiled.
He’d called her about a month ago. Said he was doing well and was in the process of opening another location. Was getting married, too, some chick he’d met “on the job.” She was happy for him, after she’d gotten over that New York minute of jealousy.
She filled the mug with water, put it in the black box and nuked it for thirty seconds. Sitting down at the white Formica table, she spread out the paper and took a short sip of her scalding mint tea. The sun beamed in through the window, streaming across the kitchen like “the force, Luke.” She chuckled inwardly. She’d always liked that line.
She crossed her long, bare legs at the knees, swinging her foot in time to her song. Immersed in the ads and taking mental notes, she didn’t know he had eased up behind her until his lips pressed down on her neck.
“Mornin’, babe.”
His locks brushed against her cheeks, making her tingle. “Hey, yourself.” She looked up and pushed out her lips for a real g-o-o-d morning kiss.
“Hmm. Now that’s better,” she breathed against his mouth. She pecked him one last time. “What’s happenin’ with you today?”
Quinn pulled up a chair, turned it around and straddled it, folding his arms across its wicker back. He pressed his chin down on his arms.
He stretched out a hand and covered hers. “I need to talk to you about somethin’, Max.”
“Sure, babe. What is it?” She closed the paper and turned her full attention on him.
“I’m going to need to go to New York for a while, Max.”
She went completely still. Her throat tightened, and her heart was knocking so damned hard that it was kind of hard to breathe. “Yeah?” She bit down on the side of her mouth, trying to be cool, like this was a regular event.
“Just for a while. Need to straighten some things out.” There was no easy way to say this, no easy way to do it. Just do it.
She pulled her hand away and got up, nearly kicking him when she uncrossed her legs, and wished she had. She dumped her tea in the sink and began scrubbing the cup as if it had the plague.
“Max. Just listen for a minute.”
She spun around, her long fingers dripping with water and Ivory dish liquid, flinging water on her freshly washed ceramic tile floor. “What you got to tell me, Q? Huh?” She planted her hands on her round hips and cocked her head to the side, her oversize T-shirt inching farther up, revealing the elastic leg band of her peach panties.
He got up and moved toward her. He placed his hands on her shoulders. Looked down into her face, into eyes that challenged him to tell her the real deal. “It’s about the book deal, Max. You know that.”
“Yeah. And? People write books from all over the world and never meet the publisher, Q. So cut the bull and get to the point. You’re goin’ to see Nikita. Just say it.”
“I have to, Maxine. The book did a lot for me. It helped me to get out all those things, the confusion, the hurt, everything that’s been buggin’ me for years.”
“So then why go, Q? You still haven’t told me why.”
“There’s still unfinished business, Max.” He took in a lungful of air. “I walked out on a woman who loved me. Leavin’ her nothin’ more than some loot and a note. Nobody deserves that. And it’s been eatin’ me for the past three years.”
She stiffened under his fingertips.
“I ain’t never gonna be free, Maxine, really free, until I see her face-to-face. That book that I wrote tells a lot. And maybe she’ll see it for what it’s worth. Me, tryin’ to tell it like it was, and is. Straight. I don’t want to go through the rest of my life with that weight hangin’ over my head.” He placed his forefinger beneath her chin and tilted her head up. “And I don’t think you want me to.”
She swallowed, hard. “I guess, somewhere deep inside, I always knew this day was comin’.” Her smile flickered around the edges. “Can’t say I wanted it to.” She chuckled softly. She looked into his eyes, seeing all the years, all the shared hurts and triumphs, and most of all, the sincerity. She knew this man as she’d known no other. If they had never been more than this, right this moment, she knew they’d always been for real with each other.
“You do what you gotta do, Q. I always told you that.”
She took a breath and the tension eased and flowed away between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her body against his.
She pressed her body a little closer. “But, just so you don’t try to get slick, I’m bookin’ that round trip flight, along with a hotel far enough away from Miss Thang, with a three-day return. So travel light, my brother.”
He threw his head back and laughed, hugging her close. “Max, you’re the one, baby. You are definitely the one.”
She pressed her head against his chest, an unnamed fear gripping her like a bad case of the flu. They’d just have to see. Wouldn’t they?
They chatted on the drive to the airport as if the trip were a regular business trip—not one that had the potential to turn their lives upside down.
Maxine had gone to the hairdresser the day before, had her nails professionally done—something she’d never done in her life—worn some new lingerie instead of one of his sports T-shirts to bed, and worked him out last night so he wouldn’t forget that ride for a long time to come. And had bought a slammin’ new outfit for the drive.
And she was scared. Bad. She’d never admit it to Quinn, or to anybody else for that matter. The truth was, Nikita Harrell had a hold over Quinn that she never understood, had the ability to make him change his whole world, his outlook, his friendships. Even halfway across the country, four-hundred pages of a book and three years later, she still had that hold. How could she ever hope to fight against that kind of power? How?
Her heart was racing a mile a minute as she held his hand while the line moved up for boarding.
He got to the entrance and she knew this was it. One way or the other.
Quinn turned to her, sensing her hesitation. His gaze held on to her. And he kissed her, a fleeting but gentle kiss.
“I’ll be back, Maxie.”
“I know.”
She smiled that smile that he loved, that little toothpick gap winking at him.
And then he was gone.
She stood against the railing, not sure for how long, watching the planes come and go, knowing that one of them was his, just as she had three years earlier, when he’d called during those early morning hours and said he was on his way.
When he’d stepped off that plane and she saw him coming down the gangway, all the years, the emptiness, slipped away. They hu
gged each other and laughed, just like old times. She didn’t ask him why he’d come, or how long he was staying. She didn’t want to know.
He’d rejected her offer to stay with her and checked into a hotel until he found an apartment through the same realty agency that had located her town house. It was only then that she knew this wasn’t just a short visit.
She didn’t know what he did with his days, and didn’t ask, knowing that he’d tell her whatever he wanted her to know. What she did know was that he was going through a healing process, a taking stock of himself and his life. And that took time.
They spent their free time together and some afternoons and evenings, too, sitting out in the back of her town house, soaking up the sun, talking, listening and just being Q and Max. They shopped together, looking for things for their respective residences, combing the streets of San Francisco for just that perfect somethin’ somethin’.
Then the letter came. And everything changed.
She’d just gotten in from work and was totally worn out. All she wanted was a quiet night, a hot bath and bed.
She’d slowly climbed the stairs and went into her bedroom, tossing her purse and briefcase onto the cushiony chair by her bed. Stripping out of her clothes, she dropped them in a heap and headed for the bathroom. Just then the phone rang.
She had a good mind to let the answering machine pick up, but whoever it was she’d probably have to call back, anyway. Might as well get it over with, she’d thought.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Max. It’s Q.”
“Hey, yourself.” She sat down, a soft smile on her face, feeling her body slowly uncoil. “Whatsup?” She wiggled her toes.
“You busy tonight?”
“Maybe,” she teased. “Depends.”
He heard the smirk in her voice and couldn’t help but smile. “I wondered if it would be cool if I came over. There’s somethin’ I want to run by you…ya know…”
There was something in his voice that put her senses on alert. There was never any formality between them. He’d never asked to come over before, and neither had she.
“What’s wrong, Q?”
She didn’t hear anything but his breathing.
“Q?”
“Is it cool, Max?”
“Yeah…sure. Come on by.”
“Thanks. See you in about an hour.”
She’d taken a shower instead of her desired bath, changed clothes, and then found herself pacing, her thoughts driving her up the wall. Something had shaken him. Bad. She could tell by the vacant tone in his voice. And she was chewing her gum so hard and fast her jaws were beginning to ache.
When the doorbell suddenly rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She ran to the door and pulled it open.
The whites of his eyes were red. His smooth face looked drawn, as if he hadn’t slept in days. His usual overpowering aura seemed to have dimmed, like a bulb that wasn’t bright enough for a room.
Her stomach muscles tightened. “Quinn, you’re scarin’ me. What’s the matter?”
He dipped his head and stepped inside, brushing past her and into the living room. He sat down on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him.
She sat on the love seat, opposite him, her heart in her throat.
He dug in the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a thick white envelope and handed it to her.
She blinked, took a breath and opened the envelope, noticing the New York address and Sean’s law firm’s name.
Slowly she unfolded the pages.
Dear Mr. Parker,
On behalf of the New York City Police Department and the people of the State of New York, we extend our condolences for the loss of your sister, Miss Lacy Parker.
Pursuant to our agreement, enclosed herewith is a cashier’s check in the amount of one million dollars, which represents a portion of the agreed to compensation for the loss of your sister. The balance of the proceeds will be forwarded through your attorney within sixty days.
A copy of the signed agreement is also enclosed.
Thank you for your patience in resolving this very difficult situation.
She couldn’t read any more through the haze of her tears. Her hands shook as she refolded the letter.
“Just a bunch of numbers, Max. Written off and filed away. That’s all Lacy was to them. Her…whole…life. Shit! I thought I could handle it…Max…I…”
Then she saw them trickle slowly down his cheeks. Her heart nearly stopped beating. And her insides rushed up to her throat. She’d never seen him cry. Not even at the funeral. Not even when they put Lacy in the ground. And her own tears fell as she went to him, wrapping him in her arms, shushing away the pain, holding on to his shudders, making them her own.
She kissed away his tears, tasting the saltiness on her lips, brushing his hair away from his face, whispering over and again, “It’s okay, Q. Just let it go.”
He looked at her then, really looked, beyond the little girl he used to tease, beyond the woman who had it going on, past the friend and confidante that she’d always been, to the woman his heart had been fighting for far too long, the one who had always brought peace to his mind, smiles to his face and an ease to his soul. The one he’d always turned to, no matter what. The one who gave and never asked for anything in return.
His eyes danced over her face and she looked back, knowing that his heart had finally seen inside hers.
She smiled a soft, gentle smile and nodded slowly, her hand stroking his damp cheek. “Yes, it is okay, Q.”
He cupped her face in his hands, bringing her to meet his waiting lips, and drank of what she offered.
They explored each other, slow and easy as it had always been between them. Whispers, laughter, soft moans and sighs of arousal filled the spaces, floated through the air.
As she stood before him, nude and exquisite, and led him upstairs to her bedroom, he knew that whatever had been would only be better, richer, fuller.
When they were together on the downy softness of her bed, moving to a secret rhythm, listening to the beat of their hearts, he realized that he didn’t just want to satisfy her, hear her shout his name, ask for more. He wanted to make her happy, as happy as she’d always made him.
It seemed that she’d been waiting all her life for this moment. To give herself, her being, to the only man she’d ever loved. When she felt him enter her body, fill her and move within the wet confines of her walls, suckle her breasts, slip his tongue in her mouth when she cried out, she lost a part of herself that she’d never been willing to give up before. She’d been holding on to it, saving it, for this moment. This time with him.
There were no bridges to cross, no gaps to fill, no finding of a middle ground.
It was just all good.
They moved into a higher level of their relationship, then, a keener awareness of each other and their needs.
Although he kept his apartment, he spent most of his time at her place, except when he closed himself off to work on the book. That was hard for her, realizing that he was pouring out his relationship with Nikita onto the pages, and she preferred not to read it—not really wanting to know, just understanding that it was something he needed to do. He’d decided to use part of the money to open a recording studio, and with the other part he started the Lacy Parker Foundation for minority kids who had an interest in music but couldn’t afford lessons or instruments.
Both had taken off. The studio kept him busy and he’d even recorded his own album. The foundation had helped more than a hundred needy kids in just over a year.
And in between it all, he wrote.
And day by day, she loved him more. Even if she never said the words.
She blinked back the memories, pushed away from the window and moved toward the exit.
Walking through the airport parking lot, she recalled an old saying of her grandmother’s. “If you love someone, love them enough to let them go away. If your love is returned they’ll come back to stay.”
Chapter 30
Ain’t No Mountain High
The spring weekend was far too short, Nikita mused, pulling her Benz into the parking garage where her new offices were housed. She handed her monthly coupon to the attendant.
Grant had definitely lived up to his pledge to take care of her. There wasn’t a thing she’d asked for that he hadn’t given or done.
The only thing that Grant was lacking was an ability to totally satisfy her. He wasn’t an inconsiderate lover, just an unimaginative one. She had yet to feel the sparks of undeniable desire boil in her veins for Grant. Never had. But back then, that first time around, she hadn’t known the difference. Until Quinn.
There was no denying that she and Quinn, physically, had fit like two pieces of a puzzle. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at the titillating thought. It was the other aspects of their lives that stayed in turmoil.
But, now she had Grant. Grant was good for her. And she was finally beginning to accept having someone take care of things for her for a change. And it felt good.
She supposed.
Moving toward her office, she felt that old familiar rush surge through her veins when she looked at the gold lettering on the door. Harrell Publishing, Inc. Hers. Her hard work and determination had paid off.
Her heels clicked with purpose across the marble floors, the sound of a polished businesswoman who had the right contacts, the right clothes, a devoted staff and the right man. That old Virginia Slims commercial ran in her head—“You’ve come a long way, baby.”
Nikita opened the entrance door of the office and was thrown into openmouthed shock when a thundering round of “Welcome back!” nearly hurled her back out the way she’d come in.
For several breathless seconds, she just stood there, her hand pressed against her chest, willing her heart to be still, while her staff of ten enveloped her in hugs and kisses of welcome.
