Ophelia and Jonas returned.
“Looks like we can’t leave you two alone for a minute,” Ophelia joked lightly after mistaking Solomon and Selma’s pose.
Jonas also laughed, but its sound had lost all the genuineness it had held earlier. “Er, Raul can accommodate whatever you’d prefer—”
“No, no. Really. Italian will be fine. I appreciate you two going out of your way.”
“It’s really—”
“Italian it is,” Solomon announced, irritated at how the conversation had bogged down over something as trivial as the dinner menu. Judging by how everyone’s eyes shifted in his direction, his tone must have been a bit too harsh. “So, what does a person have to do to get a drink around here?” He laughed.
On cue, Benton appeared. “Can I get anything from the bar?”
“Scotch on the rocks,” Solomon blurted.
Selma shook her head. “I’ll have a Cosmopolitan.”
Jonas and Ophelia also gave their drink orders, and then gestured for their guests to make themselves comfortable on the leather couches.
Solomon had never regretted anything more than accepting this dinner invitation. Other than the first eight minutes of being locked in the closet with Ophelia, he couldn’t remember another time when he was actually nervous around her. Was this what the future held?
What was it going to be like in the coming years when he came by to see them—and their children? His thoughts stopped. There was another painful pinch in his chest.
Benton returned just in time with a tray of drinks.
However, the alcohol did little to loosen anyone up.
“So…I hear congratulations are in order?” Selma finally broke the silence. “Did Marcel and Diana’s wedding inspire you?”
“You can say that,” Ophelia smiled. “It was certainly a beautiful wedding.”
“I’m sure it was. I saw some of the designs when Diana and her grandmother, Louisa, were planning it. I just hate that I had a sick kid on my hands and had to miss the whole event.”
Ophelia took another sip of her drink. “You have children?”
“Oh, yes.” Selma’s smile brightened with pride. “I have three handsome boys—of course, they look a great deal like their father.”
Solomon grabbed Selma’s free hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Picking up on the hint, she clamped her mouth shut.
“Well, I’m sorry you missed it,” Ophelia said softly.
“I’m sure it was beautiful…and I’m sure yours will be just as lovely. When is the date?”
“November twelfth,” Jonas boasted, giving his fiancée’s waist an affectionate squeeze. “Then she’ll be all mine.” He kissed her.
Solomon rubbed at his chest.
Ophelia smiled and brushed the residue of her glossed lips from Jonas’s. “Poor man just doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.” She chuckled. “Isn’t that right, Solomon?”
“Apparently not.”
“I think I’m up for the task,” Jonas commented and managed to erase another inch between him and Ophelia.
“So.” Ophelia smiled, but her desperation to ease the tension was apparent. “How long have you two known each other?”
“Seven years,” Selma answered.
At Ophelia’s startled look, Solomon tossed back his drink and wished the burn had a stronger kick.
“That long?” Ophelia questioned.
“Well,” Jonas perked up. His smile relaxed a bit more. “Good for you.”
“Yeah,” Ophelia added softly and took another sip of her drink.
Solomon knew her well enough to know she was pissed—more likely for having been kept in the dark than any spark of jealousy.
“And here I thought I knew you.” Ophelia’s lips sloped unevenly.
“I guess we all have our secrets,” Solomon countered without missing a beat.
“Apparently some more than others,” she jabbed, and then eased into another smile. “You’ll have to forgive our sniping. I, for one, am happy Solomon has someone steady in his life—sort of. Maybe now I can stop worrying about him.”
“Yes.” Selma slid a hand down Solomon’s leg until it settled on his knee. “That’s my job now.”
Ignoring his friend’s boldness, Solomon forced a smile.
“Speaking of jobs,” Jonas leaped at the opportunity to be a part of the conversation. “What do you do, Selma?”
“I’m an entertainment agent.”
“Oh, so do you represent some of the acts at T & B?”
“Sure do. In fact, that’s how Solomon and I met.”
Music suddenly interrupted the stilted conversation, and Selma scrambled for her purse. When she opened it, Solomon recognized the Barney’s theme song.
“Hello.” Pause. “Hey, Tommy, baby.”
Solomon rolled his eyes.
“No, no. Mommy is not too busy right now.” She covered her mouthpiece and mumbled an apology to her host and hostess.
Ophelia’s gaze shifted to Solomon.
Miraculously, he held on to his smile.
“Yes, yes. He’s right here.”
Dread crept up Solomon’s spine—and sure enough, Selma turned toward him and held out the phone.
“Tommy wants to talk to you.”
Slack-jawed, Ophelia and Jonas watched him accept the phone.
“Hey, kid.” At the sound of little Tommy’s excited voice, Solomon dropped the pretense and enjoyed a hurried recap of the child’s day. There was just something about his godson that never failed to put a smile on his face. “That’s great,” he said when the child finally managed to pause for a breath. “Yes, I’m going to keep my promise and take you and your brothers to Disney World.”
Selma turned her smile toward the engaged couple. “The boys just love their Uncle Solomon.”
“All right, all right. Here’s your mom.” He handed back the phone, still chuckling. When his gaze returned to Ophelia, his amusement faded.
Selma gave her love to her children and quickly disconnected the call. “Those are my babies,” she bragged, and then glanced back at the stunned couple.
Ophelia and Jonas inhaled the rest of their drinks and requested Benton bring them each another.
“Sounds like you two have an interesting—arrangement.”
Selma laughed. “I guess you can say that.”
“Are you and your husband—separated?” Jonas asked with unmistakable hope in his voice.
“Oh, goodness no,” Selma answered without glancing toward Solomon, and hence was oblivious to his hints to lie.
“Well, different strokes for different folks, I always say. We’re not here to judge.” Ophelia wondered if her words sounded as hollow to everyone else as they did to her. “Maybe I should go check with Raul and see how much longer dinner is going to be.”
“I’ll come with you,” Jonas said.
Together they escaped the room as if the devil nipped at their heels.
Solomon’s and Selma’s gaze zoomed to each other, and another burst of laughter escaped their lips.
“You know, you’re eventually going to have to tell her the truth,” Selma said in between chuckles.
“Yeah, I know. But after tonight, I’m just starting to have a little fun.”
Chapter 10
Jonas’s harsh whisper brushed against his fiancée’s ear. “Can you believe them?”
As a matter of fact, Ophelia couldn’t. “It’s none of our business,” she reminded him.
“I know, but it’s the casualness these two have toward their affair. I mean, what the hell is this world coming to? Hey, you don’t think they’re swingers, do you?”
She choked. “Oh, give me a break. They aren’t the first people to have affairs.”
“Maybe not, but most people try to keep something like that on the down low.”
Crossing paths with Benton, Ophelia grabbed a new drink from his serving tray and tossed it back like a soldier who’d just cheated
death.
In all the years she’d known Solomon, he’d never once hinted he was capable of living the type of dual life he was exhibiting tonight—and she didn’t like it one bit.
“This just settles it for me. After we’re married, you’re not allowed to hang with this dude. Sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll. Humph. Not with my wife.”
Ophelia stopped, and then slowly faced him. “What do you mean I’m not allowed? You’re not my father.”
“I never said I was your father. But that man—”
“Is my best friend.”
“And marriage vows don’t mean a damn thing to him. I don’t trust him.”
Her eyes lowered to thin slits. “You don’t trust him, or me?”
Jonas’s face twisted into a frown. “What are you talking about? I didn’t say I didn’t trust you.”
“Then there’s no problem.”
His face darkened. “There most certainly is.”
“How do you know her husband isn’t completely okay with their relationship?”
“No man is okay with his wife sleeping around. Trust me.”
“I’ve heard of open marriages.”
“Open marriages were created for men to sleep around. Women turn a blind eye because the husband is a damn good provider. Unless it’s a mênage à trois, men don’t share.”
“What?”
Jonas quickly tossed up his hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”
“Excuse me?”
Jonas and Ophelia jumped, and then faced Solomon.
“You two might want to lower your voices. We can sort of hear you,” he informed them.
Horrified, Ophelia gasped. “Oh, Sol. We didn’t mean—”
“Forget it. Just try to lower your voices.” He turned with a smirk, but before he disappeared from sight, he turned again and met Jonas’s stare. “And you don’t have to worry about your girl around me—the mênage à trois isn’t my thing—anymore.”
Jonas glanced at Ophelia.
“He’s kidding.” Ophelia suppressed a grin. Her gaze lowered to watch Solomon’s confident walk as he strolled back to the living room. An old sports injury caused his slight limp. She doubted anyone truly noticed, but she did. In fact, she remembered just about every story behind every scar, nick, or broken bone.
Solomon always had great stories—and she wondered what the real one was between him and Selma.
“Honey?”
“Huh? What?” She glanced at her fiancé and was stunned by the intensity of his stare. “What were you saying, sweetie?”
His shoulders slumped. “Nothing.”
She wasn’t buying it. She apparently had done something wrong. “Jonas—”
“We’d better get back in there,” he said, offering his arm.
She abandoned her speech. What was the use? The night was a disaster. The whole purpose in inviting Solomon to dinner was to get two of the most important men in her life to at least tolerate one another.
Ophelia sighed, looped her arm through Jonas’s, and brushed a kiss against his stiff lips.
Nothing.
No magic, no sparks, and definitely no butterflies.
When she pulled back, she beamed her best smile. It was becoming easier to hide her disappointment. And why not? It was such a small issue…or more like some crazy childhood fantasy about knights in shining armor, glass slippers, and bellies filled with butterflies. None of that stuff really happened. Well, it had happened once—twice—but that was long ago.
Arm in arm, Jonas led Ophelia back to the living room where everyone danced on eggshells. Ophelia tried her best not to like Selma, but the task was impossible. She was funny, smart, and kind. It was just this small issue of her being married with children that was throwing things off-kilter.
She cringed each time Solomon showed any type of affection toward Selma, and Ophelia hated how comfortable the two were around each other.
Dinner was finally served, not a moment too soon as far as Ophelia was concerned. She had already downed three drinks and was getting looser by the second.
“So where are you two going for your honeymoon?” Selma asked, once everyone had settled into the seats.
“We haven’t really decided on a place,” Jonas answered. “I’m a little partial to Mexico.”
Ophelia and Solomon gazes crashed seconds before laughter filled the room.
Jonas and Selma’s brows furrowed in curiosity.
“Sounds like we’re missing something,” Selma said.
“Let’s just say that we have some pretty questionable memories about Mexico.” Ophelia laughed.
“Questionable, hell,” Solomon barked. “There’s nothing wrong with my memory. You’re the one who got trashed and thought you were a mermaid.”
Another squeal of laughter peeled from Ophelia. “Oh, Lord.”
Jonas’s congenial smile slowly lowered to a thin, flat line. “Well, I can’t wait to hear this one.”
“No, no.” Ophelia held up her hand. “Please, Sol. Don’t say a word,” she begged halfheartedly.
“But it’s such a good story,” Solomon said, dabbing his lips and carefully returning his napkin to his lap.
“Then I want to hear it, too,” Selma said, smiling.
“Sorry, Ophelia.” Solomon shrugged. “That makes three to one.” He glanced at the other two. “Well, it was our high school senior trip to Cancun…”
Te Quiero
Chapter 11
The summer of ’88 was perfect, and Cancun was the closest thing to heaven on earth, not just because of the white beaches and the clear blue ocean, but because the drinking age was eighteen.
Solomon, Ophelia, and Marcel checked into their room at the Omni Hotel and quickly prepared to create some great memories.
Marcel’s plan was to simply stroll the beaches, hit the bars, and gather as many tenderonies as he could.
Ophelia had a list of activities—parasailing, deep-sea diving, and bungee jumping.
Solomon was just excited at the chance to finally put his four years of high-school Spanish to good use. Since he was also known for being the responsible one, he made sure he stopped his two best friends long enough to remind them to be careful with their money—to never take too much cash and always know where it is located. There were already rumors of other students losing their wallets.
“Yeah, yeah. We got it,” Marcel said, rolling his eyes. “Man, try to relax. We’re on vacation, remember?” He headed for the door.
“And don’t drink the water,” Solomon shouted toward his buddy’s back.
“You worry too much,” Ophelia said, withdrawing a yellow string bikini from her bag.
Solomon’s brows arched. “You’re not wearing that, are you?”
“After enduring a hundred crunches a day for the past three months, you’re lucky I’m not running through this place butt naked.”
Solomon swallowed a painful lump in his throat at the instant imagery. “The suit is fine.”
“I’m glad you approve.” She winked and rushed to the bathroom.
He waited for her, not sure why. Most likely, she was going to hang out with Tamara and Rachel. However, he never liked those two. He’d heard too many stories in the boy’s locker room at school. The last thing he wanted was to have Ophelia’s name added to the mix.
“So.” He moved closer to the bathroom’s door and crossed his arms. “What are you going to do first?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she shouted back. “I hear a few people are going up to Fat Tuesday’s. Maybe I’ll go there. What about you?”
He shrugged and leaned against the door frame. He could easily catch up with Marcel and hang with the guys…but he didn’t want to do that and be constantly worried about her. “I haven’t decided.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to hang with me.”
When she opened the door, Solomon’s eyes bulged in surprise. Her body curved in all the right places and caused his most primal instincts to come al
ive.
“But if you’re coming, you have to promise there won’t be any blocking.”
The Beautiful Ones (Arabesque) Page 7
