My brow furrowed. “You bought it for me?”
“Don’t hate me, but no. I did buy it for my father. However, when I told him about you, how we met and that I wanted to give it to you for Christmas, he sent it the next day.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?” He frowned. “Don’t you like it?”
“It’s too much.”
“The money?”
I nodded, swiping my errant tears.
“Selah, I want you to have it as a tangible reminder of where we began. This brought us together. Think of all the elements and powers at work to make sure you ate airport sushi, chatted to Anita, agreed to meet some crazy man, went to an auction viewing—”
I cut him off with a kiss. “It’s impossibly implausible. The whole thing.”
“Yet here we are.” He kissed me and swept packing peanuts and tissue to the side, laying me down on the rug.
I made sure the sculpture was safely out of range as things became heated.
“I love you,” I whispered against his lips.
“Always.”
SIX MONTHS LATER…
“IS this outfit okay?” I asked, attempting to close the clasp of my necklace.
“For flying?” Kai’s fingers moved mine out of the way and smoothly attached the two ends.
“For what comes after flying.” I stared at him through the mirror. “Meeting Cibele. And Anita.”
“Again. You’ve already met Anita.”
“Not really. She was some random, pushy supermodel in JFK last year.”
“She’s still pushy.” Kai smiled lovingly at me through the mirror. “And you look perfect.”
I studied my black dress and wedge heels. The thick strand of beads added color, but it was kind of a somber look. “Do I look like I’m attending a funeral?”
“Not with that cleavage.” His eyes focused on my chest while his hands snuck around to touch my breasts.
“Is it obscene?”
His fingers squeezed me. “More than obscene.”
“Don’t start what we can’t finish. We don’t have time.”
He hissed. Or exhaled. I couldn’t tell.
“You look beautiful and appropriate. Stop worrying.”
Other than flying first class, our flight to Chicago was uneventful. Blessedly, Kai had enough money and mileage points for neither of us to ever fly coach again. I sipped my wine and looked out at the puffy spring storm clouds over the flat land of the Plains.
A humid cab ride later, we arrived at the Ritz where our room overlooked Navy Pier. I loved Chicago and couldn’t wait to visit the Art Institute the day after tomorrow. If I survived tomorrow.
Saturday was Cibele’s graduation from junior high school.
Kai wanted her to come to Portland for spring break, but I hadn’t been ready. I had plotted faking a relapse to get out of it. After confessing my planned deception, Kai took her to Mexico instead with the excuse sunshine and warmth were better than gray and cold in Oregon.
When I attempted to avoid this weekend, he’d put his foot down. That was how I found myself having a panic attack in Chicago. My present to the daughter I hadn’t even met laid on the desk. I sat on the bed and stared at it, willing it to have magical powers of instant approval and connection.
“What are you nervous about?” Kai sat next to me and laced his fingers with mine. “She’ll love the gift.”
“You think? It isn’t too old lady trying to be cool?”
“No, you’ll win major points.” He kissed my hair. “Ready?”
“No,” I sighed.
“It isn’t the firing squad.”
“Sure feels like it.”
“Based on your personal experience with firing squads?” He tugged me to my feet and kissed me resoundingly, thoroughly, and lovingly.
“Let’s stay in and have hotel sex.”
“We can do that later.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “You’re beautiful. Intelligent. Amazing. Mine.”
I nodded. “Remind me later?”
“I’ll do better than remind you. I’ll show you.” He slapped my ass.
“That stung.” I rubbed the warm spot.
“Good. Now, let’s go.”
We arrived first at the restaurant and sat along a banquette. Whenever someone entered, I glanced at the door.
“Stop staring and order something to drink,” Kai said.
I pretended to peer down at the menu, but kept one eye at the front of the restaurant.
Anita was impossible to miss. If anything, she looked taller and abundantly super-human beautiful, exceeding my memory of her. Her height blocked out the person following behind her until they reached our table.
“Hello!” she greeted us warmly.
Kai stood up to greet them, and I did the same. Or tried. My hip hit the table and caused my water glass to wobble and slosh liquid on the white tablecloth.
“Selah!” Anita hugged me, tightly, the way old friends do. I peeked around her arm. Kai hugged a slim teen girl, the tips of her hair a soft pink. “I’m so glad to see you again, especially under such happy circumstances.”
I mirrored her joyful expression, and then stepped away. Kai released Cibele and turned her to face me.
The moment of reckoning was upon me.
The look of love he gave her, and then me, as he introduced us melted my heart and my nerves.
Deep, sea blue eyes met mine, and a sweet, shy smile full of silvery braces greeted me. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I gave her a little wave. We smiled shyly at each other for a moment before Kai invited everyone to sit down. Cibele sat across from Kai and Anita opposite me. His hand rested on my leg, and entwined with mine, the contact calming me.
I assumed our evening would have been awkward with silence, and perhaps a few death glares from an angry teen.
At some point, I would learn to not assume anything when it came to Kai.
“You saw Nirvana live?” Cibele squealed and bounced while I told stories about seeing shows in Seattle.
“And The Cure.” I smiled at her.
“I want to see one of their concerts, but my parents say I’m too young.”
“I went to my first concert at fourteen.”
Cibele looked between her parents expectantly.
“We’ll talk about it,” Anita replied. She gave me a soft smile. “Maybe you could go with Selah.”
“Oh em gee.” Cibele rapidly listed ten bands she wanted to hear live. I recognized the names of four of them.
“Also, I had the same pair of Doc Marten’s as you do.”
“Really?”
“Really. Speaking of concerts and clothes, I brought a graduation present for you.” I reached for the box on the banquette next to me.
“You didn’t have to,” Anita said. “Say thank you, Cibele.”
“Thank you, Selah.”
“You haven’t opened it yet. You might not like it.” I fidgeted with my bracelets.
Kai’s hand gave me a reassuring squeeze.
Cibele gasped. “Is it really vintage?”
“It is. It was mine.”
“You were at this show?” She clutched my old Head on the Door concert T-shirt to her chest.
“I was.”
Kai leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You just became the coolest adult she’s ever met.”
I rested against him, smiling while I watched Cibele study the cities on the back, chattering away about songs and vinyl albums, and much to her parents’ amusement, boys who liked vintage music.
Later, Anita and I found ourselves standing at the bathroom sinks together.
“You really made her week with your gift.” Our eyes met in the mirror.
I shrugged. “Kai told me how much she loved The Cure.”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled and smoothed down her hair. “I’m happy for you and Kai.”
At a loss for words, I stared at her.
“You�
�re probably thinking this is all very strange.”
“A little.” I turned to face her. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I’ve asked Kai, but I’d love to hear your version. Why did you encourage me to meet him last summer?”
“Ah.” She laughed. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
“You have?”
“Of course. It’s not typical for an ex-wife to play matchmaker. We’re not very typical, though. We’ve known each other half our lives. Our history together is long, and Cibele ties us together for the future, however long that might be.” She reached into her purse for a lip gloss. “Last spring, I found a lump in my breast. I don’t know if Kai told you. He didn’t know until Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, no.” My heart rate increased. “I’m sorry.”
“Turned out to be benign, but it scared me. I thought about death and what dying would mean for Cibele as an only child and two parents who travel too much.”
I gaped at her. “You didn’t think I’d be a good mother, did you?” Fear laced through my words.
Her laughter echoed inside the tiled space. “Oh, gosh no. When we met, I liked you, and I have an excellent sense about people because of my work. No, I realized how different you were from the women Kai had dated after the divorce. I won’t go into details, but will say the majority of them could be summed up in a single word: gold-digger.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrow.
“That’s another reason why I told you his name was Gerhard. Kai Hendriks holds a certain caché in many circles.”
“I’m discovering that.”
“Long story short, my brush with cancer scared me into action. More than anything, I want Cibele and Kai to be happy. I figured if nothing else, you would have been something different in his world. Maybe you would have had coffee, conversation, and never seen each other again, but it might have been enough to remind him he deserved better. He’s a good man, but he’s not my man.” She gazed happily at me. “He loves you.”
“He is a good man,” I agreed. “And I love him. More than anything.” Overcome with emotion, I hugged her. Her love for Kai was real and present, not tinged with bitterness or jealousy. “Thank you,” I said after stepping away.
“You’re welcome.” Anita smiled at me, grasping my hand. “We’re not promised long lives, or even tomorrows, so we must love the lives we have now.”
WEEKS LATER…
“Try it,” I held the spicy tuna roll to Kai’s mouth.
“I’d really prefer not to develop food poisoning on a transatlantic flight.” He closed his lips tightly.
“Fine, more for me.” I took a bite. “Mmmm,” I moaned. “So good. The best thing I’ve had in my mouth for a long time.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”
“Mmm hmm.” I licked soy sauce from my lips.
“You’re ridiculous.”
I held up a piece with my chopsticks. He rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth.
“Mmm, it is good.”
“Told you so.” I popped another bite into my mouth and defended my plate with my chopsticks. “Order your own.”
“So, this is where it happened?” He looked around the sushi bar.
“Right here. We should buy plaques for these two stools.” I gestured behind us.
“What would the plaques say?” He stole another piece of my sushi.
“Don’t trust a Dutch man not to steal from you.” I moved my plate further away from him.
“Selah …”
“Kai …”
His dimple appeared and worked its voodoo juju.
“Let me think.” I tapped my chopsticks on the plate. “Something about talking to strangers. Or living in the moment.”
“The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly.”
“That’s profound.”
“It’s a quote from Buddha.”
“I love it when you get all namaste on me.”
“I don’t think namaste means what you think it does.”
“Oh, it does.” I grinned at him.
“What am I going to do with you?”
“Take me to Amsterdam?”
“Already doing that.”
“How about visiting some Greek islands?”
“That, too.”
“Be by my side when the sculpture exhibit opens in New York?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Hmmm … I’m out of ideas.”
Dark North Sea eyes met mine.
“I have an idea.”
My heart fluttered at the look in his eyes. I set down my chopsticks and focused on him. “What sort of idea do you have?”
“It’s a big idea. Huge, really.”
I blinked at him and waited.
“Marry me.”
“Yes,” I whispered before I could think my way out of it. I might have been a cynic, but deep down I believed in happily ever after.
“Yes?” His eyes widened.
“Yes. Why are you shocked?” I lifted my chin with a smug grin.
“I… I expected… I don’t know what I expected, but a simple yes wasn’t it.”
“I can give it further thought, if you’d be happier. Consider the pros and cons, do a survey, design a research project—”
He narrowed his eyes at me.
“Maybe I’ll discover I prefer only missionary position.”
“No!”
Giggling, I wrapped my hand around his neck to pull him close for a kiss.
“Yes?” he asked against my lips
“Yes.”
We kissed at the sushi bar in the middle of JFK airport without a care to who saw or judged.
We had our now, and I wouldn’t miss a minute of it.
Forever and always would come later.
Writing and publishing a novel doesn’t take place in a vacuum. Life keeps going on around me while I live inside my head, writing about my imaginary friends and their adventures. Not that I’m complaining. Being a romance writer is the best profession—I get to fall in love over and over with each new book.
Huge thanks to my husband and favorite travel companion, who rarely complains about a lack of homemade baked goods while we chase this dream together.
Special thanks to friends and family, who continue to support me despite cancelled dinners, slow replies to texts and emails, and general writer craziness. To the Lost Girls, who are the best friends a person could have, thank you for all the great adventures.
The past year of publishing has been an incredible journey. I’ve been blessed to meet many wonderful authors, bloggers, agents, publishers, and readers. The Indie world is a supportive community that feels like a big family. A big thank you to Heather Maven, who beta-read MP as it was written, giving me the feedback and the support needed to make this story the best it could be. Thank you to Kelly, Dianne, Marla, and Nadine for pre-reading; your honesty and enthusiasm were invaluable. Amanda, thank you for your help and input regarding all things Ghana. It was important for me to get those details right to honor the country and it’s people. Thank you to Melissa Ringstead and Jenny Sims for polishing drafts and correcting my sins against grammar. (Any remaining errors are my own.) Thank you to Sarah Hansen for a gorgeous cover and to Angela at Fictional Formats for making the inside of the book beautiful. Many thanks to ARC readers and bloggers, who shared their early enthusiasm and love for this book, including Vilma, Denise, Kandace, Lisa, Neda, Tiffany, Cindy, Diana, Hootie, Dympna, Becca, Stacy, Jessica, Denise, Daiana, Charlene, Mandy, and Missionary Sue. Special thank you to my agents, Flavia Viotti Siqueria and Meire Dias at Bookcase Literary Agency, for believing in my work and wanting to bring it to the rest of the world.
Biggest thanks of all to the readers who bought this book. I appreciate your support of Indie authors, including me. Thanks in advance for writing a revi
ew, telling a friend about MP, or reaching out to let me know you enjoyed Missionary Position, or any of my other books. Hearing from readers is the best part of publishing!
Happy Reading!
xo
Daisy
Before writing full time, Daisy Prescott worked in the world of art, auctions, antiques, and home decor. She earned a degree in Art History from Mills College and endured a brief stint as a film theory graduate student at Tisch School of the Arts at NYU. Baker, art educator, antiques dealer, blue ribbon pie-maker, fangirl, content manager, freelance writer, gardener, wife, and pet mom are a few of the other titles she’s acquired over the years.
Born and raised in San Diego, Daisy currently lives in a real life Stars Hollow in the Boston suburbs with her husband, their dog Hubbell, and an imaginary house goat.
She has published three novels, Geoducks Are for Lovers, Ready to Fall, and Missionary Position, along with a Pirotica novelette under the pen name Suzette Marquis.
To learn more about Daisy and her writing visit: www.daisyprescott.com
Or find her on social media:
Twitter: @daisy_prescott
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DaisyPrescottAuthor
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/daisyprescott/
Instagram: http://instagram.com/daisyprescott
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/+DaisyPrescott/posts
The symbols that appear in this book are Adinkra from the Asante tribe. These graphics can be found throughout many areas of Ghana and West Africa on buildings, fabric, carvings, jewelry, and metal castings.
“Love never loses its way home.”
Represents the power of love.
“Change or transform your character.”
Contains the Morning Star symbol (new start) inside the wheel representing movement.
Special thank you to http://www.adinkra.org for the graphics and definitions of these symbols.
Two of my favorite recent reads…
Love Hacked
Missionary Position Page 24
