If She Says Yes

by Tasha L. Harrison

  “Take them off. I want you inside of me. Right now. Just like this,” I whispered, stroking my hand up and down his length with a soft, whispering touch.

  “But—”

  “Just like this,” I repeated.

  Tommy let out a shaky breath. “You sure?” he asked.

  I nodded and tugged at his waistband again until he pulled them off himself, kicking his legs free and sending the pajama bottoms flying. They caught on the little wrought iron chandelier over the bistro table. We both chuckled, and then we kissed, and he untied my robe, exposing my naked body to the soft morning breeze, and all humor left me.

  “Open your legs for me, hermosa,” he whispered and repositioned us so that our hips aligned. I did as he asked, and that same breeze kissed my drenched sex, and I shivered at the sensation.

  “Shhh…I’m right here,” he whispered, then I felt the fat, blunt tip of him nestle against my opening. He held still for a long moment, shivering and giving me a look that felt like he could see all of the things I wanted to say and tried to keep buried. He cupped my cheek in his hand, angling my mouth close so he could kiss me as he said, “I’m gonna miss you, hermosa,” before thrusting into me, sure and deep and as perfect as his words.

  The beginning of a goodbye.

  “I’m gonna miss being inside of you, miss feeling you come.”

  “Please, make me come,” I begged.

  “Whenever you want, Darcy. Always. I’m yours.”

  He withdrew and sank in deep again. So deep that my breath caught, stretching and filling me so good that my eyes rolled back in my head. And maybe my memory was just foggy, but it really felt like no one had ever felt this good to me. No one had ever paid such close attention to what made me gasp, moan, and the exact way I played with my clit as he moved his dick just so, making sure that every thrust dragged his length against my g-spot.

  “Oh, god… I feel you. You’re about to come, aren’t you? Can I come with you? Can I come inside of you?”

  “Yes… I’m…” I couldn’t even get the words out before it began to unfurl; slowly at first, then so hard and clenching that I could barely draw a breath.

  “Fuck, yes…oh, fuck.” Tommy held me tighter and fucked me harder, so hard that it triggered another flutter of pleasure while he held himself still and buried inside of me. I felt every pulse and throb, every hot spurt, as my pussy drew every drop from him.

  The next few hours moved differently, too fast, yet full of so many flashbulb moments that they seemed to pass in slow motion. Moments I knew I would remember years from now.

  Like when he carried me up to my bed, spread me out, and kissed every inch of me as he slid inside of me again, and said, “I can stay an extra day. Maybe more than a day. If I make some calls right now, I can stretch it until the end of the week—”

  “No,” I said. “It’ll just set the hook in deeper and make it harder.”

  Or when he said, “This feels bigger than I thought it would. Doesn’t it feel bigger to you? Like something meant to be?”

  “Of course, but it was never meant be more than this. You and me? It can never be anything, Tomás. We knew that at the start.”

  And when he turned to me in the shower, his eyes cast downward, water droplets on his lashes, and said, “I just want more time, hermosa. Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye forever?”

  “It’s not forever. We’ll see each other again.”

  “Just not like this,” he finished for me, saying the quiet part out loud.

  “Not like this.”

  I rode with him to the airport. I shouldn’t have, but letting him leave like that felt too abrupt. I did the same outside of the departure doors. Instead of taking the car home, I got out like we were going away together. The driver even wished us safe travels.

  Tommy reached for my hand as we stood next to each other in the check-in line for American Airlines, prolonging the moment when we would actually have to step outside of the fantasy, pop the bubble. In a way, I think I wanted that even less than he did. For the last few days, my house had been full of people and sounds, and liveliness, and him in my bed, and inside of me. On my skin. Worming his way into my heart.

  Now, it would be empty again.

  After he checked in, we walked hand in hand toward the escalators that led up to the terminals. He turned to me, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he clenched his teeth. “Do you regret it, hermosa?”

  “Tommy—”

  “I’d be crushed if you did.”

  “Listen to me,” I said, cupping his scruffy cheeks in my palms. “I don’t regret one second of it. Not one.”

  He nodded and took a shuddering breath, then kissed me. Soft, then deep, and for so long that the sounds of travelers, the Muzak, and the garbled announcements from the PA system fell away. He whispered things to me. Hermosa, hermosa, hermosa, and other soft words in Spanish until we couldn’t prolong the inevitable anymore.

  “See you soon, Tomás,” I said, then turned and walked away from the only thing I ever wanted to call mine.

  17

  Tomás

  “So, I know that traditionally, homes with this much woodwork usually have a darker stain throughout. But I wanted you to see some of the options before we settle on the same ol’ boring thing we always do,” Juana, my little sister and interior decorator, said.

  We were standing in front of a recently renovated home in Bronzeville. Back in the day, Bronzeville was known as the Black Metropolis and had the nation's most significant concentration of Black businesses. Thousands of Black Americans had escaped the oppression of the South by migrating to Chicago in search of industrial jobs. Today, it was one of the areas in the city most affected by gentrification. The difference, in this case, was that these homes were mostly bought and renovated by affluent Blacks. It didn’t really matter who purchased the homes; the effect was still the same — low and middle-income families were priced out of the homes and neighborhoods they’d lived in for generations. I was currently in negotiations with the city to buy up a few empty lots to build some mixed-income housing, but there’d been a bit of pushback from the newer, more affluent residents.

  A lot of pushback, actually.

  “How did you find out about this place?” I asked, pinning Juana with a disparaging look.

  She rolled her eyes. “Our realtor. I simply asked her if she’d come across some renos with the kind of detailed woodwork in the Cobb & Frost mansion, and she sent me some links. I dug through them until I found one with the kinda stain I think we should use on that job. Just…come inside and keep an open mind.”

  “Fine,” I said with a heavy sigh and followed her up the steps and onto the porch.

  Progress on the Cobb & Frost house was humming along. Not a hitch in the plans so far. It had been almost unnervingly easy. There was already lots of interest from buyers as well, and it looked like I would make back my money threefold.

  Everything was going great, but I was finding it hard to give a fuck.

  This was my dream job, all the exposure I wanted for my firm, but it felt…anticlimactic. I just kept thinking, I finish this job, and then, what? I just look for the next one? And the next, and the next, until I was an old, rich man that people paid fifteen hundred dollars a plate just to be in the same room with, in hopes that they might rub elbows with me? Is this all there is?

  I shook my head and focused my attention on the home that I was about to enter. It was a Romanesque townhouse, three levels, with a deep porch and two front doors. “Splitting them into apartments?” I asked as Juana fumbled with the key holder.

  “Yeah, two one-bedroom, 1 1/2 baths, and a studio in the attic. Damn it. My nails are too long. I can’t get this thing open.”

  “Here,” I said, tapping her on the shoulder and gesturing for her to step aside. “What’s the combo?” She recited it to me, and I spun the dials, and the box popped open. As I opened the doors, I did the math on what the buyer was looking to net on this p
urchase and realized pretty quickly that some of the older apartment homes on this block and the next would eventually raise their rents to draw in the types that would rent this high-end product.

  Shit.

  And whoever bought this place probably thought they were doing a good thing. That the neighborhood would benefit from these positive changes. Some folks who bought into this particular American Dream were just ignorant to how it would affect the demographic makeup of the neighborhood and disrupt the culture that made them want to live here in the first place. Others didn’t care. Still, others felt that it was inevitable and unstoppable, so why shouldn’t they get a piece of the pie if it was gonna happen anyway? These were the people I was up against, and suddenly, it all felt pointless.

  “See? It has just as much wainscoting and heavy crown molding as the Gold Coast mansion, but in this lighter stain, it feels, well, lighter. I feel like it opens the space up.”

  I nodded. “How does it measure up comp-wise? Are there homes like the Gold Coast mansion on your list with this light finish?”

  “Well…no, but—”

  “So, it doesn’t make sense to use finishes or make stylistic choices that won’t appeal to the target buyer for this product.” I looked around, ran my fingers along the silken, high-gloss, damn near honey-colored stain. “It’s beautiful, but if we chose this, and it affected the bottom line—”

  Juana turned to me with her hands on her hips. “So negative before you even run the numbers? What is going on with you, Tomás? Your attitude is for shit these days.”

  Stunned by her outburst, I stepped back and crossed my arms. “I wasn’t aware that I had anything going on but this job. You seem to think otherwise.”

  She sighed. “I’m just saying that you seem different lately. You don’t seem as excited as you were when you signed the paperwork for this house. Did something happen that I should know about?”

  Laughing, I shook my head. “Nothing is going on, Juana. I just want to make sure we’re making sound business decisions.” I shrugged and walked the perimeter of the room. “But I was dismissive with you just now, so I apologize for that.”

  “Thank you,” she said in a small voice.

  “This is a big job for both of us. Could push us into an entirely different market, so if it feels like I’m playing it safe, that’s why. I still don’t believe a lighter stain would appeal to our prospective buyers, but find me some comps at that price point, and we’ll revisit this in a few days.”

  A bright smile split her face, and my little sister was damn cute when she got her way. “I’ve got some great ideas, hermano. I know that these rich academic types like that dark masculine look, but we can start new trends, you know?” she rambled as she followed me back toward the door.

  I stood at the top of the front steps and looked out at the neighborhood as my sister continued to chatter on behind me. It wasn’t quite fall yet, but I could already see that the leaves on the trees that lined this quiet street were beginning to yellow. The air had that crisp bite, a warning that a Chicago winter was definitely coming, and if you wanted to get out, now was the time.

  I had lots of thoughts about getting out lately.

  I wanted to sell all of my shit — including my company — and book a ticket to Charleston. Drive straight to that Victorian Charleston single crowded with lush greenery two blocks from the Ashley River. Find the cat-eyed woman who owned it, the same woman who’d stolen my heart fifteen years ago, and beg her to keep me forever.

  Juana wasn’t wrong. My head couldn’t be further out of the game than it had been since I came back from Charleston. But that was how I felt every time I came home from there, wasn’t it? Like all of it was some hot, sticky, drunken fever dream that happened outside of reality. This trip felt even more otherworldly because I’d sacrificed myself to a benevolent goddess who devoured me only to spit me out.

  Sigh.

  That wasn’t fair to her.

  I knew what it was before she led me up to her bedroom. We both did. But like a child, I’d gone in overeager and expecting a different outcome. It wasn’t her fault that she was better at accepting reality than I was.

  “So, where are you headed?” Juana asked. “We could get some drinks before dinner.”

  “I won’t be at dinner tonight. Jared and Brandi invited me over to their new place.”

  My little sister came to stand next to me. “I still can’t believe someone married his arrogant ass.”

  “Brandi is actually perfect for him. You’d be surprised,” I said with a raised brow.

  “If you say so,” she grumbled.

  My little sister had had a crush on Jared since the first day she set her big brown eyes on him. Anyone could see it, but she tried to hide it by being mean and confrontational whenever he was around. Jared would never go there, though. Juana was too young.

  Too young. Hm. What right did I have to make that determination when I’d been sniffing around Darcy since I was much younger than my sister was now?

  “So, where’d they buy their house?” Juana asked as we descended the stairs to our respective cars.

  “They bought a place in Streeterville on N. Water Street. Low-rise, new build, which isn’t great, but it’s close to the hospital and has room enough for them to start a family.”

  “Wow. Streeterville.”

  I shrugged. “This’ll be my first time visiting. You know how I feel about new construction going up near the waterfront, but what can you do?”

  “What can you do?” she echoed. Juana turned to me and gave me a hug. “Are you’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, hugging her back.

  Her hold around my neck tightened. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

  For a moment, I considered telling her, but what would I say? I’m in love with my best friend’s mother. Tell me a way we can be together without ruining our relationships with her son.

  Pushing her away, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Quit worrying. I’m fine. Tell mama I love her,” I called over my shoulder before hopping into my pickup truck and pointing it toward Jared and Brandi’s place.

  Traffic was slow, which gave me more time to obsess over the fact that I hadn’t heard from Darcy since I left Charleston. We never said that we would text or call, and it was probably best that we didn’t. But we still shared a calendar, and occasionally — and by occasionally, I mean daily — I checked her schedule to see what she was doing.

  Today at four p.m., she had lunch with the Dalys. The Dalys were prospective clients looking for a home in Wagner Terrace. It was a hip little neighborhood with a lot of ranch-style homes a few minutes north of where Darcy lived in South Broad. She was taking them to The Butcher & The Bee, where we’d eaten lunch my first day in Charleston. Later, she had to stop by the bank and her lawyer’s office.

  Yes, this was more than obsessive and bordered on stalkerish, but if I couldn’t be with her, what harm was it to imagine her as she made her way through her day? Or to take it a step further and imagine myself waiting for her in that Charleston single, all the windows and doors thrown wide to let in the crisp autumn evening air, and that big copper soaking tub filled with her favorite bath salts and oils, just waiting to soothe her work-weary body?

  It had been damn near five months, but I was still struggling to settle back into my normal, everyday life. I mean, shit. Did I even believe normal life was possible anymore? Everything felt too harsh, too sharp, razor-edged since I’d been home. Life, before I made love to Darcy, was only occasionally interrupted by brief bouts of daydreaming about her. Life after making love to her wasn’t a daydream anymore. I knew her taste. Knew the tone and vibrato of each of her moans. Knew how her pussy gripped my dick when she was close to coming. All of this, in addition to the things I already knew and loved about her? This knowledge of Darcy MacFarland was going to be my undoing.

  I was never more certain of that than when Jared swung open the door to welcome m
e into his new home.

  How fucking twisted was it that when I looked at my best friend, I saw the shape of his mother’s eyes and the slope of her nose? Because I did, and it made me miss her even more.

  “Finally!” Jared bellowed, stretching his arms wide.

  I laughed at my friend as I stepped across the threshold and accepted his hug. Jared thumped me on the back and dragged me further into the front hall of his home.

  “Calm down, bro. It hasn’t been that long,” I said, pushing him away with an awkward laugh.

  “Are you serious right now? I’ve only seen you like a handful of times since the wedding.”

  “Because I wanted to give the newlyweds room to settle into married life.”

  Jared pulled a face and narrowed his eyes at me. “Bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me.”

  I froze. Guilt rendered me stiff while I grasped for an explanation. Did he know why I was avoiding him? Did he suspect that it had something to do with Darcy? No. He couldn’t. If he knew, he would have confronted me… Unless this was the confrontation. Had my best friend of almost fifteen years invited me to dinner, a few beers, and an ass whooping for fucking his mother?

  Jared leveled an unreadable look at me. That was even more disconcerting. It was bizarre to see my long-time friend make a face I’d never seen before. Was this his murder face?

  “Listen,” he said, dropping a hand on my shoulder and giving it a rough squeeze. “I get it. I’m married now, and you’re a perpetual bachelor. Maybe you think we have nothing in common anymore. Or maybe you’re worried monogamy is contagious or that our relationship is going to change. Whatever the case, I get it. You needed some time.”

  It took me a minute, but eventually, the joke set in, and I laughed. “I’m not at all worried about monogamy being contagious,” I answered truthfully because how could I be? The one woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with was the one person I couldn’t have, and fuck! I need to let this gooooo…

  “Whatever,” Jared rolled his eyes. “Hang up your coat. I’ll get you a beer. Brandi is running late.”