His brow arched.
“Okay, mission semi-accomplished. At least I finished this time.”
“Yes, finishing is very important. But the score still matters, Taylor. This wasn’t only about you getting through the test—it was about finding your baseline, remember? Let’s just see how you did.”
“Fine,” she said. She pushed up from the table. “But I can’t sit here and watch while you do this.”
She went into the kitchen and grabbed the bunch of bananas hanging from a hook above the fruit bowl. She tore one off and peeled it as she paced from the edge of the kitchen island to the refrigerator. She was sure she could hear the seconds ticking away on the microwave’s clock as she waited for Jamar to finish.
She’d mashed five bananas and measured out all the dry ingredients for banana bread by the time she heard Jamar’s footsteps. She went to stand near the sink, preparing for the worst. When he appeared in the entry to the kitchen, Taylor knew she was about to receive bad news.
“Well?” she asked.
“Your raw score in science was a twenty-eight out of forty, so that’s good. The others, not so good,” he said. He held the score sheet out to her.
Taylor took it and read over his markings.
“A sixteen overall?”
“Yeah. That places you in the bottom third, percentage-wise.”
She looked up at him, a smile breaking out over her face. “The last time I took this test, I scored a twelve.” Taylor laughed at the way his eyes grew wide. “Don’t look so spooked. I know this isn’t the best score, but it’s honestly so much better than I expected.”
She was giddy with the relief spreading through her. She wrapped her arms around Jamar’s neck.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said. “And for not letting me run away.”
He settled his hands at her waist. “You’re welcome.”
She lifted her lips to his and captured his mouth. What started out slow and gentle quickly turned manic and brutal. Heat shot through her veins as Jamar relieved her of her clothes, pulling the sweatshirt over her head and unclasping her bra with one hand.
Taylor stood in the middle of his kitchen in jeans and flip-flops, and nothing else. As he trailed his tongue along the slope of her neck, his hands caressed her breasts, kneading them, pinching her nipples until they tightened to the point of pain.
He released her hair from the clip that held her braids, letting them fall down her back. Then he pushed his hands through her hair, holding her head steady, his tongue plunging in and out.
Old insecurities tried to creep in as his lips trailed down her neck, across her collarbone, along the shallow valley between her breasts. Taylor shoved them out of her head.
Jamar wasn’t like any of the men she’d dated in the past. Everything he did came from a place of respect for her, from wanting to help her. Not from what he could take from her.
She heard his low groan a moment before he closed his mouth over her left nipple. He flicked at it with the tip of his tongue, the friction setting off an explosion of pleasure between her legs.
“Wait,” Taylor said. She pushed at his chest.
His breaths soughed in and out. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll be damned if we do this on a kitchen counter again. If you’re going to fuck me, you’re going to fuck me in a bed.”
She grabbed him by the wrist and started for the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Oh, wait! I love this part!”
London hopped up from her chair and raised the volume on the television. She started to sway from side to side as TLC’s “Creep” streamed from the soundbar.
They’d agreed to get together for a Saturday movie night at London’s since Samiah and Daniel had only returned from Houston this afternoon. They’d chosen Waiting to Exhale, the ultimate in Black Girl Magic cinema.
The volume had been muted for much of the movie, but it was turned up when it came to a part they all wanted to watch. They’d replayed the scene when Bernadine throws her cheating asshole of a husband’s things out of the house and sets it all on fire three times already.
London pointed at the television. “Those four are the original squad goals.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t want their man problems,” Samiah said. “They all had messed up relationships.”
“True dat.” London laughed, reclaiming her seat and picking up the skein of yarn she’d been working with since they started tonight’s crafty girls’ night in.
“I thought you didn’t like knitting?” Taylor asked. “You’re a pro at this.”
“This isn’t knitting—it’s crochet,” London corrected her. “I’d forgotten how relaxing it is.”
“So you’ve done this before,” Samiah said in an accusatory tone. “That’s why you picked up on it so quickly.”
“It was years ago. This lady at church taught us during vacation Bible school back when I was in like the eighth grade. I thought I’d forgotten how to do it, but I guess it’s like riding a bicycle.” She held up the swatch of uniform, deep purple stitches. Taylor had to admit she was impressed.
“So is crocheting easier?” Samiah asked, her attention focused on the needles and yarn she’d been struggling with for the past hour. Her forehead creased in concentration as she unsuccessfully tried once again to cast on. “Why is this so hard?”
“Uh-oh,” London said in a singsong voice. “Someone has found something she isn’t good at.”
“I’ve only been trying for an hour,” Samiah said. “Just wait.”
“She’s going to drive herself crazy trying to prove she can knit,” London said. “This is the problem with perfectionists.”
“Takes one to know one,” Samiah gritted through clenched teeth as she concentrated on her knitting.
London took a sip of wine before pointing her crochet hook at Taylor. “How did the practice test go?”
Taylor hadn’t been prepared for the quick change of subject. Unbidden, erotic scenes of what happened after her practice test sprang to mind, but she forced them from her head as she turned her attention to London.
“It was better than the last time I took it, but still not great.”
She told them about her freak-out at the beginning of the test and how she was finally able to relax and get through it once Jamar calmed her down. She also told them her score, because she knew she didn’t have to worry about these two judging her.
“I know it’s not the best, but considering that I scored a twelve the last time, I’m super excited.”
“You should be. A four-point improvement is huge,” London said. “I’m sure nerves had something to do with it. If you continue practicing, you’re going to raise that score.”
If she could guarantee that each practice test would end the way yesterday’s had, she could be talked into taking one every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
“The thing is, I think I have a learning disorder,” Taylor announced. “And maybe an anxiety disorder too. Although the anxiety may just be a by-product of the learning disorder.”
“Test anxiety is pretty common,” Samiah said. She looked to London. “Is it the same thing as a learning disorder?”
“It’s considered more of a symptom,” Taylor answered. “I’ve read up on it. To be honest, I’ve kinda suspected that this was my issue for a while, but I ignored it because that seemed like the easier thing to do.”
“What changed?” London asked.
“Jamar,” she answered honestly. “His friend Silas, the one you mentioned a while back,” she directed at Samiah, “he had a learning disorder. Jamar noticed that I was doing some of the same things that Silas used to do.”
“You should get a proper diagnosis, especially if you suspect you have an anxiety disorder in addition to a learning disorder,” London said. “There’s nothing wrong with seeing a therapist.”
“Who said there was anything wrong with seeing a therapist?” Taylor asked.
Sh
e shrugged. “Well, I know how the black community can be when it comes to mental health. My grandmother thought anyone with depression just wasn’t praying hard enough.”
“Mine too,” Samiah said.
“You don’t grow up as a military kid without seeing a therapist at least once in your life,” Taylor said. At least that had been the case for her. “I started having nightmares during one of my dad’s deployments back when we lived in Germany. I was a regular at the Family Life Center for much of the seventh grade.”
Yet her issues with school had never surfaced in any of the therapy sessions she’d had on base. She’d never considered the anxiety that gripped her whenever she sat down to take a test to be anything other than a normal reaction to a scary situation.
Why hadn’t she made that connection? Why hadn’t anyone else? She’d attended a half-dozen schools through her elementary, junior high, and high school years, and no one—not a single teacher, counselor, anyone—had suspected that there was an issue.
All these years she’d thought school just wasn’t her thing, that she was wired differently from all the other people who managed to get through a typical school day without suffering panic attacks.
The fact is, she was different from those people. She just never realized that the thing that made her different was treatable.
“I have to wait until after my dad’s birthday party,” Taylor said. “But I’m going to look into scheduling an appointment for an evaluation once we get back from North Carolina.”
“We?” London asked, her brows arching. “You mean the fake boy toy is meeting the parents?”
“Umm…about that,” Taylor said. “I don’t think I can call him a fake boyfriend after the multiple orgasms he’s given me this week.”
Samiah and London both gasped, then screamed, “Bitch!”
Taylor burst out laughing. “It kinda just happened,” she said. “Actually, that’s not true. I didn’t want to admit what I was feeling, but I really do like him,” she said. And she realized she meant it.
“I knew it,” London said. “Didn’t I call it?” She pointed her crochet hook at Taylor. “If you even try to put me in a cotton-candy-pink bridesmaid gown, we’re fighting. I’d prefer this color,” she said, holding up the deep purple rectangular swatch she’d crocheted.
“There will be no bridesmaid gowns,” Taylor said. “We’ve only been dating for a few days. I mean for real dating.”
“You two make a cute couple,” Samiah said. “But how will this affect Taylor’d Conditioning?”
“I don’t know that it matters anymore. When we first started this whole pretend dating thing, the deal was that Jamar would become a spokesperson for Taylor’d Conditioning once he makes it back into the NFL, but who knows what Taylor’d Conditioning will even look like in another year, or once I earn my degree?”
There were so many unknowns.
“I kinda just want to enjoy being with him right now and figure the rest out later. Does this mean that I’m breaking the promise I made for my boyfriend project?”
“You’re still working on what’s important to you,” Samiah said. “That was always the goal.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
Taylor and Samiah both startled at London’s exclamation.
“What’s wrong?”
“Do you have to go to the hospital?”
London shook her head. “No. It’s the manager of the banquet hall we booked for my upcoming class reunion. Every other week there’s some kind of issue.” She let out a frustrated sigh. “I told the committee not to go with this guy. He was an asshole from the first time I contacted him.”
“I would ask how reunion planning is going, but I guess I already have my answer,” Samiah said.
“I’m honestly ready to run away from everything,” London said. “Between the hospital buyout, this class reunion, and my mother’s new boyfriend—yes, you heard correctly. My sixty-year-old mother gets more dick than I do—I’m just…I’m done.”
“You know what you need?” Samiah said. “You need sex.”
“Do you expect a prize, Captain Obvious? Of course I need sex. That’s no big secret.”
“No, I mean you need sex now.”
“She’s right,” Taylor said. “It does the body good.”
“Stop bragging,” London shot back.
“Here’s what you do,” Samiah said as she tossed her knitting needles on the coffee table. “Find the sexiest man at that hospital and have a one-night stand.”
“You don’t even need to go through all the drama of a date,” Taylor said. “Just tell him you want to bone and do it.”
London gave them both the stink eye, but then she said, “I can’t have random sex with someone I see every day. If I’m going to have a one-and-done, it has to be with someone I won’t see again.”
“But it can’t be a complete stranger because that shit just isn’t safe,” Samiah said. “Someone reliable has to vet him before you hook up with him.”
“Agreed,” London said. She looked over at Taylor. “Your boy toy have a football player friend with a granny porn fetish?”
Taylor and Samiah burst out laughing.
“I don’t know and I am not asking,” Taylor said.
“Whatever,” London groused. “I doubt even a one-night stand with a young, hot football player will help at this point.” She lifted the yarn and crochet hook. “But all is not lost, ladies. I think I’ve found myself a new hobby. Well, an old hobby turned new.”
She reached over and grabbed her wineglass. Raising it to them, she said, “I’m calling tonight a success.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The growing sense of apprehension in Taylor’s stomach on the flight from Texas to North Carolina intensified as the plane’s wheels touched down on the tarmac. She had to remind herself that she loved her family and they loved her. Their judgmental comments were a result of that love for her.
Why are you making excuses for them?
The truth was that she had never fit in with her family.
She already regretted bringing Jamar with her. Would her brother denigrate her in front of him? Would her mother regale him with embarrassing stories from Taylor’s teen years?
She squeezed her eyes shut. This was a disaster in the making. She felt it in her bones.
Just get through the weekend.
The flight captain’s voice came over the loudspeaker, letting the passengers know that it would be a few more minutes before they could pull into their gate. Taylor released a deep sigh. She could use a few more minutes before facing the inevitable.
“You okay?”
She looked over and saw concern in Jamar’s eyes. He reached across the armrest and captured her hand, lacing their fingers together.
The small gesture sent a wave of gratitude flooding through her. How could she regret bringing him when his presence brought such comfort? This man who she’d only known for six short weeks—who had entered her life as nothing more than a client—had come to mean so much more.
After they pulled up to the gate, they deplaned from the first-class seats Jamar had insisted on buying—his Thanksgiving present. As if Thanksgiving presents were a thing.
Taylor thought they would take an Uber to her parents’, but after retrieving their luggage from baggage claim, Jamar motioned for her to follow him to the rental car desk. That’s when she discovered he’d already booked a car for the weekend.
“When did you do all this?” she asked.
“Before we left Austin this morning,” he said. He held up his phone. “Remember what I said about this cool little pocket computer? It can do all sorts of things.”
“Couldn’t leave that smart-ass attitude in Texas, could you?”
“It travels well.”
She rolled her eyes as she followed him to the rental car lot where a silver Lincoln MKX crossover awaited them. Taylor issued directions as Jamar navigated the SUV off the lot and onto the highway toward Fa
yetteville.
The familiar sights brought her an unexpected sense of peace, contributing to the tangled mass of emotions swirling in her belly. North Carolina had been her first real taste of stability. She couldn’t help feeling an affinity for the place where her parents had finally settled their nomadic family. She liked knowing she could come back here.
She also liked knowing that she could easily hop on a plane and flee if necessary.
After about an hour of driving, the GPS’s flat voice announced their arrival at her parents’ home in the town of Spring Lake. The split-level brick house looked like many of the others on the quiet, residential street—something Taylor had always resented. After the monotony of base housing, she’d wanted her parents to buy a house with some character. The irony of the square box of a studio apartment she’d moved into wasn’t lost on her.
Her brother-in-law’s F-150 was parked on one side of the driveway. A black Mercedes coupe so new it still had temporary tags occupied the other half. It no doubt belonged to Darwin. Her brother loved to show off his prizes, as he liked to call his cars.
Jamar parked the Lincoln at the curb, just past the mailbox. The door to the house opened at the same time Taylor climbed out of the SUV. A second later, her dad appeared. He wore creased black slacks and a heather-gray sweater. It was so typical of the Colonel. His “downtime” wardrobe was what others would consider business casual.
Taylor wouldn’t have it any other way.
She raced over to him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. It didn’t matter how often they butted heads, nothing could ever take away that initial joy she felt at seeing her dad safe and healthy.
“How’s my little Taylor Renee?” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“Just fine, Daddy,” she said, giving him an extra squeeze. She leaned back so she could look up at him. “Feeling old yet?”
“I don’t turn sixty until tomorrow,” he said. He pinched her side. “Why are you so skinny? I know Texas barbecue isn’t as good as what you get here in North Carolina, but you can stand to eat a little more meat, girl.”
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