by JN Welsh
“Say something, cookie.”
What she did next was something he wasn't prepared for. He'd expected her to be angry, to maybe argue with him about the deception and a part of him prayed that she'd jump into his arms, kiss him endlessly, and forgive him.
What he never expected was that Olive would run away.
Chapter Seventeen
The sun was setting and Olive saw Gracie’s B&B in the distance. Olive ran until her side cramped and her thighs ached. Her tears blurred her vision, and her steps, as she trudged through the sand. She ran to burn of the anger that bubbled in her veins.
She loved Nigel so hard and had opened up to him again. She’d even confessed that she didn’t want to be made a fool at the end of this trip and here she was—a fool.
She wiped her face. She trusted him and he kept the biggest secret from her. She leaned her ass on a rock and steadied her breathing.
Her guilt-ridden shoulders slumped so low that they could have touched her toes. Nigel had done this for them. He'd felt so backed into a corner by the dire straits of their relationship that he agreed to separate, not to end their marriage but to save it.
When they’d separated, her appetite had only visited on occasion and her depression had gotten to the point where Amani, had offered to take care of the younger ones for a few days. She cried herself to sleep every night for what felt like months after Nigel moved out.
When Jim presented them with the information about the divorce list, she didn't want to go through the pain of their memories. Since they'd started this journey, Nigel had been open to talking, and to touching. She'd been so deep in anger and mourning their marriage that she completely missed the fact that that he was trying to revive their love.
"Why didn’t I see what you were doing? What you wanted?" she admonished herself. She pinched her side to ease the cramping.
Darkness started to fall over Trinidad and Olive dragged herself up. Her limbs were noodle limp as her memories with Nigel flashed in her mind like a photo album. She laughed through her tears at his silliness and sobbed at the tender moments.
Nigel had always been special and amazing to her and their kids. Beyond the physical was his heart. He wanted to reconnect and fix things as much as she did? “As much as I do.” She clasped her hands on either side of her head. "Where the fuck am I going? He still loves me."
She pivoted, and was about to book it back to the place where she left Nigel, but she had to draw brakes to keep from slamming right into him.
“Cookie?”
Nigel was wrecked as he stood a few feet a way from Olive. He busted his ass running after her. As fast as she was, he’d finally caught up to her. He had a mind to let her go and give her space but they’d had enough space. They were separated and he didn’t live in his home anymore. He didn’t come this far to lose her and he promised himself and his kids that he would fight even if he had to chase Olive to the end of Trinidad.
“You followed me all this way?” she questioned.
“I,” he huffed air and staggered over to her. “I love you. I’m not letting you go, Olive. I can’t.”
“Nigel—”
“You were done. You asked me to move out. You were at the point where you literally begged me to dissolve the agreement so we could move to divorce. Would you have listened to me then?” he asked.
Her mouth twisted to the side as she deliberated her answer. “Maybe not but how would you feel if I kept something like this from you?”
“I’d be angry, hurt,” he admitted. “But I’d forgive you Olive because I’d know that you were doing the best for us.”
She shook her head and her silence was concerning but he continued.
“I wanted to tell you, believe me, but I was scared that any wrong move I made would accelerate the end. I wanted to give us a chance to remember why we fell in love and that our love is still strong.”
Olive wiped her face and tears dripped from her already red eyes.
“Am I too late, cookie? Can you forgive me for this?” His heart banged against his chest and his shoulders were so tight he felt their proximity to his ears. All he wanted was to wrap her in his arms and love her.
“Yes,” she finally breathed. She slammed into him and squeezed him. His breathing shallowed further but he’d want it no other way. “I love you, Nigel, and I want us back, too. I've been so fearful that you wanted out that I couldn't see how hard you were trying to get us back. I want us back, my love. I want you, husband. I choose you. Again and again.” Olive wiped his cheeks.
Adrenaline left him and his muscles melted to liquid. "I thought I lost you, Olive." He dipped his head, his mouth crashing against hers in a combination of rushed relief and passion. He tasted the saltiness of the pain and joy as he lifted her against him. She hooked her legs around his waist, squeezing him.
"I promised you'd never lose me. I forgot for a little while, but you have me, Nigel. You'll always have me." She twirled her fingers in the hair at the back of his neck.
"And you have me, cookie. All the days of my life.”
He and Olive found their friends sitting on the beach. Flor and Riley jumped up and smiles broke through their worried faces when they saw he and Olive nestled into one another.
“We’re staying together?” Riley asked.
“Yes,” Olive answered.
Flor did a weird jump kick move and punched the air in excitement before gathering them all in a group.
Riley cleared his throat.
“Oh yes. Your last list item,” Flor said.
“I thought we were done? Nigel asked.
“This last item was only to be given if you decided to stay together,” Flor explained in an official tone. “May I?”
“Yeah,” he and Olive both affirmed.
“Go back to the place where vows were made and return the symbols of your love.”
Nigel intertwined his fingers with Olive’s. “Ready.”
“I’m ready.”
They all strolled to the archway, overlooking the ocean, where he and Olive had exchanged their wedding vows. In front their original witnesses, Nigel once again placed her wedding rings on her left ring finger. "With all that I am and all that I have, I honor you and bind my life to yours," he promised.
Olive removed the chain from around her neck and released his ring. "With all that I am and all that I have, I honor you and bind my life to yours.” She pressed her palm to his chest.
Nigel placed his hand over hers and drew her in, sealing their love with a kiss.
Epilogue
Olive abandoned her and Nigel’s shared home office, and followed the sound of laughter and African music. She had confirmed the final details for the Goodwin’s trip to New Mexico that they would be taking at the end of the week.
In the living room, Amani squatted low and one side of her body moved in and out like a pendulum as she did the Gwara Gwara, South African dance. Taye joined in with the fancy footwork of the Coupè Dècalè, a Central West African dance, making his “I’m getting down” face.
Olive laughed at him.
In the middle of it all was Nigel, mimicking the dances and reverting to a two-step when the moves got to intricate for him.
Olive danced toward them, rocking forward and back and bending her knees as she danced the West African Shoki, that her kids had taught her.
Since Nigel had been back, they’d committed to a weekly date whenever they were both home and while the children attended African dance classes, sports, other activities or spent time with their grandparents. Their baby sitter Janet also helped.
“Oooh! Let me try that.” Olive attempted Amani’s dance move and after a few tries did the dance easily.
“Lower, Mommy,” Luna instructed.
Olive followed Luna and then stood up holding her hip.
Nigel laughed so hard and loud it echoed against the walls and over the music.
“You try it,” Olive challenged.
“I know my l
imits.” Nigel did his two-step toward her, drew her into his arms, and swayed off beat until they moved slower. “I’m surprised you can even walk after last night.”
“And this morning?” Olive nuzzled her cheek against his shoulder before meeting his eyes. She held his waist and slid her hand to his lower back. He’d been home for almost a year now and still the limerence of being back with him hadn’t dulled.
He studied her face and the love in his hazel eyes sparkled. He stroked her cheek and leaned down. She received his thorough kiss.
“Eww gross,” Taye scoffed.
“Yeah. Not in front of the children,” Amani reprimanded yet offered a half smile.
Nigel ignored their kids and deepened the kiss, shielding their tongue play with his hand. She moaned into his mouth and swooned in her stance.
Olive felt additional arms around her body. She released Nigel’s lips to see Luna with her arms wrapped around them.
Luna beamed up at them. “I want to dance with you and Mommy.”
Olive raised an eyebrow at Nigel and stifled a smile. “We’ll continue this later?”
Nigel captured her mouth once more, delivering a teasing bit to her lower lip. “You can count on it,” he whispered.
Nigel lifted Luna into the air until she squealed, and then secured her with one arm and Olive with the other.
“Aww,” Taye and Amani both cooed and ran into them for a group hug.
Olive would never tire of the joy that enveloped them, and knew that neither she nor Nigel would ever take their family or their love for granted again.
Sneak Peek of IN TUNE
In Tune by JN Welsh and Carina Press
Keep reading for a sneak peek of IN TUNE by JN Welsh, available October 2018 from Carina Press.
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
If Leona Sable had known how this day was going to turn out, she would have stayed in bed, nestled against her boyfriend pillow with the covers pulled over her head.
How the fuck did I get here? A conversation with her boss and mentor, Abraham Wallace, that started with “The client only wants you” and ended with “Meet me at the Metro Hotel this evening at seven and be dressed for a night out.” That’s how.
Ever since that conversation a few short hours ago, Leona had been collecting intel on Electronic Dance Music DJ Luke “The Musical Prophet” Anderson.
Had Abe not looked so stressed and hell-bent on acquiring said potential client, she’d still be in hiding, paper-pushing due diligence forms.
Leona sat in the hairdresser’s chair in Midtown Manhattan. Her tight corkscrew curls dripped wet onto the towel draped over her shoulders, while she pressed the cell phone to her ear.
“Dale, sweetie, you’re telling me that Luke’s manager left his tour? Just like that? Why?” Leona strained to hear above the light music playing in the salon.
Dale, her fabulous, long-time source swam in the know while others simply dipped their toe into the pool. “Allegedly, there was a mash-up of problems. Money issues and fraternization,” he whispered into the phone.
Leona wasn’t a gossip but she sometimes had to play the role of one to get the information she needed.
“They were dating? Was it serious?”
“Who knows in this industry? But I will say that hearts were broken. And…”
Leona couldn’t believe the next words that came out of Dale’s mouth, and neither would Abe when she briefed him. “No!”
“Yes, but you won’t find a lick about it in the rags. The family is wealthy and adamant about her privacy. They keep paying out.”
“Then why would she do that?”
“I don’t know, girl. Money got these people like…whoa!”
“Stop.” Leona laughed, assessing her milk chocolate brown image in the mirror. “Thanks, D. You gave me a lot to work with. I appreciate it.”
“Listen, love. Please don’t ever go underground again. I need my concert tickets.”
“I promise.” Leona hung up.
Her hairdresser started to work. “Let me get started on your twists.”
“Change of plan, Kim. Geisha bun. Sleek and sexy.”
Kim stilled with wide-toothed comb in hand. “You haven’t had that style in a while. Does this mean you’re back?”
Kim’s excitement surprised her. “No.” Leona’s raised voice carried above the music.
“Okay, okay. Just asking.” Kim’s grin reflected in the mirror.
Leona surveyed the room and tapped her left earlobe. “The last thing I need is that rumor getting out.”
Kim readied her tools—complete with blow-dryer and brush—for Leona’s hair. “Maybe after tonight it won’t be a rumor.”
For the past year, Leona had stayed out of the spotlight. Lately, she had to admit that the administrative role Abe allowed her to perform was a snore fest, and she’d thought about waging a comeback and once again doing the work she loved. Though she was an experienced personal manager, with production and tour experience, the entertainment industry was fickle and would make her pay for her absence. More importantly, a nagging question remained.
Am I ready?
Leona checked her messages and returned a call to Tracy Ruiz, one of the resident lawyers at Wallace Entertainment. “Hey, Tracy. Got anything on Mr. Wonderful?”
“He doesn’t have any priors, but there have been some disturbances of the peace. Mr. Anderson has had a string of episodes involving angry outbursts, but no one was hurt. Only a couple of scuffles here and there.”
“This just gets more interesting by the hour. Okay, Tracy. Thanks.”
What the hell did Abe get me into? A client with a shady business past and anger management issues… Seriously? A shiver scuttled up her back and her shoulders shimmied in release. Just get him in the door, Leo, and you’ll be done.
Kim took a brief break from pulling at Leona’s kinky curls. “You cold, girl?”
“Oh, no, I’m good. Just some old ghosts trying to bully me.”
Kim patted her shoulders.
Leona was tempted to contact Luke’s family members for more information, but her experience with her ex-boyfriend gave her pause. The media craziness had adversely affected the Sable family. And though she only sought information—it was a line she was unwilling to cross.
With her hair completed, Leona thanked Kim and headed home. In her walk-in closet, Leona chose her outfit while she listened to one of Luke’s interviews. He mentioned a fondness for animal crackers and she chuckled. “And not just any kind either.” She loved researching potential clients. Sometimes their quirks and preferences were predictable, other times quite unexpected.
Her phone rang. She picked up when she saw it was Abe.
“Leo? I’m on my way to the hotel. What’d you find out, darlin’?” he asked. Though from Scottish and Spanish stock, Abe had been born and raised in North Carolina. He used the touch of Southern twang in his voice to sweet-talk anyone into doing his bidding.
“He’s very into his fans. In fact, that’s why this guy is all over the place and not just in the States.” She put Abe on speaker and scrolled through some notes on her phone. “Yeah, Brazil, Australia, United Arab Emirates…Yikes. The list of worldwide appearances goes on for pages. What a treacherous schedule.”
“Hard worker. What else?”
“He’s passionate about his music and active on all social media outlets. We like passion.”
“We?”
“Wallace Entertainment,” Leona clarified. “People have nice things to say about him. But, Abe? There’s a bit of controversy around his last management. His ex-manager stole some astronomical amount of money from him and—”
“That’s an unfounded rumor. We need him, Leo.”
There’s that desperation again. “I get that you want him, but…”
“No, Leo. The company needs him.”
“The company? Okay, Abe. What’s really going on here?”
Abe was silent. “I’m in a cab, co
ming up on 14th Street. We’ll talk later. See you in a bit.”
“Abe…” she called to a dead line. Damn it. What the hell? She breathed deep.
She dressed in snug off-white leather bootleg pants and a fitted black shirt with capped sleeves. Sexy black lace accented the top of the shirt—from above her bust to her neck—and covered her back. It was the perfect day-to-night outfit, yet still professional. Too much time had passed since her life required such attire. The outfit felt foreign at first, until the old familiar part of her began to stir.
A sheer off-white shawl draped over her shoulders allowed the light material to pop off of her brown skin. Black peep-toe booties added four inches to her five-foot-four frame. She quickly evaluated her image in the mirror and extended her arm to the reflection, as if offering a handshake to see how her outfit moved. She hadn’t done that in years. You’re nervous. She wiggled her shoulders. Shake it off. This is old hat, Leo.
She didn’t know what situation awaited her at the Metro Hotel but she was as ready as she’d ever be.
* * *
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
Pockets of fans gathered outside the hotel with cameras and signs ranging from I love you, Luke to Disciple of The Musical Prophet. Leona passed them and glided through the sliding doors, heading for the concierge desk.
“Hi—” she glanced at the man’s name tag “—Sam. Leona Sable. Rooftop bar. Anderson party.” The economy of words allowed her to catch her breath. Construction had turned her bright idea to take the subway into delays that had her booking it to the hotel. She hated being late.
The young concierge smoothed his pressed suit. “Ah yes, Miss Sable. You’re expected. Identification, please.” His moves were slow and deliberate.
