Chapter Two
~Katara Johnson~
Same day in London, England
I could spit bricks at Orion Townsend, who’s perching on the end of my glass desk with a Cherrywood bottom, his wrists crossed over his lap. A pleading look wears his chiseled face constructed of high cheekbones, cleft chin, aristocratic nose, and dark-gold eyes. His DNA is the mandatory melting pot of races needed to produce that extraordinary shade of his pupils and the cool blush tone of his skin. European, Brazilian, Caucasian, Egyptian, and last but sure as hell not least in my book, African-American. Let’s just say his family reunions are interesting whenever he returns to Arrow to participate in the functions.
He pushes the long fingers of his left hand through his auburn hair that’s tapered and clipped to within an inch of its life on the sides and back. Since I met him in the middle of my five years of college in Colorado, I’ve sworn his hair coloring comes out of a bottle and he uses a curling iron every day. He keeps promising it doesn’t, that the big, shiny curls arching to a point at the edge of his right temple is natural after every haircut.
Well, he does manage to find one hell of a barber, no matter what country we’re in. I wouldn’t pay a hairdresser the amount of money Orion does to attain that springy spiral that drapes across his eyebrow. It’s like a siren call to almost every woman on both sides of the pond, begging to be pulled on in the middle of hot, sweaty sex. Just not by me. I’d have to get over Tommy Owen’s ass first.
Orion’s the kind of man that makes you want to hang on to him. No thank you very much, I’m good with rare, thoroughly protected one-night stands outside the place that provides my accustomed living standards, or I was good until about three years ago when my biological clock started ticking away like a time bomb. If I had ever considered sleeping with Orion, I’ve certainly changed my mind now with what he’s just asked me to do for him.
“Kat, I really, truly need you to represent this company in Arrow the day after tomorrow. I know it’s last minute, but this merger seems to be eating up every ounce of time I have. I haven’t slept since this thing started a month ago. I’d go to Arrow myself, but Malcolm fucking Destin keeps changing the terms of the deal like he does his underwear and has me at his every damn beck and nuisance call and dinner date.”
“Which is daily,” I pipe in as Townsend’s Cellular Global corporate lawyer who is more scorned woman than professional right now.
I thought Orion and I were friends before colleagues. What he’s asking me to do is just as bad as pitting me against a ticked off cobra: schmoozing his connects that live too close to Tommy. Somebody is going to get hurt. That’ll be me if I agree to do what my boss wants.
He’s not the only one who hasn’t slept fitfully in a month. Every time Malcolm changes his mind about something to do with combining Townsend Cellular Global with Destin Towers, which produces the best radio transmitters and receivers worldwide, I get to make sure the changes Malcolm wants implemented in the negotiations are square with the law in just England for now, and benefits TCG.
A cushy job but not the easiest.
Pushing my hair back behind my ears, I contemplate saying no to my boss, my not-so-much-friend right now. No to going back to Arrow to support a valued business associate and our old friend from college at his wedding. But is saying no going to cost me my job and friend that might just be worth losing at this point?
Why the hell did O have to buy this company ten years ago that can affiliate and merge with other big communication corporations owned by his friends that can demand he show up for their functions? What’s wrong with making microwaves and car parts in Timbuktu where nobody really knows the location of or ever heard of anybody from there?
There’s a reason that I should say, ‘Hell no!’ to Orion. Bumping into Tommy is absolutely not worth what seeing him again is going to do to me. And I know it’s going to do something to me. It’s why I took Orion’s job offer and transferred all the way to England to get away from Tommy—why I haven’t been back to Arrow since I threw my mother’s prized chrysanthemums at him for cheating on me.
I don’t want to recall but I can’t help remembering the day Edison personally drove me to the site of Tommy’s betrayal: Benita Arnett’s apartment that Tommy’s car was parked outside of. The tramp had been sniffing after him since before Tommy and I got together my first year of college. I didn’t lose my shit right then, but I so wanted to, by knocking on Benita’s door then tearing her, her home, and Tommy to pieces.
I like to think I’m too classy for that though, wasn’t about to give Edison the satisfaction of seeing me show out on Tommy. Edison’s motive for taking me there so I could see Tommy as a two-timing snake were made crystal clear with his subtle hints of how much I needed a good man in my life, one who isn’t afraid to tell me truth, even show me if he had to. And no, Edison didn’t get the satisfaction of me becoming his girl as well. I did leave Benita’s street with a broken heart and the inability to believe a damn thing men say without it being heavily researched and notarized first.
You can’t research if someone loves you though. Since I couldn’t, I got the hell out of Dodge before I took Tommy back. He may not have loved me, but I completely loved him.
Still do.
I loathe the truth instantly, didn’t want to admit that. If I can still say Tommy has my heart, I shouldn’t go back to Arrow. I won’t. Especially now that my biological clock is clanging so loud in my ears I can see the actual damn bells going off in between them.
I cross my legs and sit back in my chair before dead-eyeing Orion. “Mr. Townsend—”
He huffs. “Oh hell, if you’re being official, you’re about to turn me down, but Kat, listen. We need to support everyone now who’s on our team before and after this merger. You know Devlin is investing a cool ten billion in our expansion overseas after we get Malcolm to sign on the dotted line here, and we need Devlin like air if we’re going to compete with the likes of Verizon and T-Mobile. Giants in the industry.”
Screw Orion’s ambitions. That cool ten billion will go in his pocket, not mine.
Respectfully, I ask, “Who is ‘us’? I’m just your lawyer.”
“Us as in everyone that makes a living with TCG and wants bigger bonuses this year. And you’re my friend first. The best one I have. Always have been. The only woman not trying to use me for something. I can’t even claim that of my own mother. Look, I know why you don’t want to go. All you have to do is stick close to your house in the suburbs until the wedding, and then book it to the next airport before Tommy even knows you’re in town. Don’t even unpack. Simple.”
Not so simple. I don’t know why I kept the house after my parents gifted it to me for buckling down and finishing college half a year early. They moved to Florida shortly afterwards where I have no troubles visiting at least four times a year. Why couldn’t the damn wedding be there?
Someone in Arrow is going to see me. Someone in Arrow is going to report back to Tommy that I’m in the area. Someone is going to be unable to resist Tommy if he comes looking for me for old times’ sake… or if I lay eyes on him. I know my damn limitations. Apparently, Orion doesn’t recognize the most important half of the battle that he’s throwing me head first with no weapons into: keeping Tommy at arm’s length.
“So, if you know why I don’t want to go, O, why are you asking me to?”
He leans over, arm propped on his muscular thigh. “Because Devlin likes you as much as he does me and knows you as well. You’re the only one that he can talk shop with like he can me. You were in from the ground floor up when I bought this company, know every aspect of it, and can reminisce about our old times at our Alma Mater with him.”
I sigh, beyond frustrated. “O, you two can do all that over the phone, so you’re going to have to give me a better reason than those.”
He’ll never do better because I’m not going, but Orion will keep at me until I do.
“Okay, how about this?” He gets a scheming look on his face, and usually his schemes involve me, something I don’t want to do, and is mentioned mostly in the name of joking just to get a rise out of me… now that we’re adults, that is. “You get to rub in Tommy’s face how well you’re doing without him. If he’s disgustingly happy, we’ll go back to Arrow soon and pretend we’re dating just to piss him off. Hell, we’ll even pretend you’re pregnant if it hurts him enough. He used to suspect I was competition. I would’ve been if you wanted me back then. Maybe he still does suspect that I’d date you in a heartbeat, and if that’s true… then we can flatten the bastard without laying one hand on him. People don’t generally like the idea of their old flames being with someone else even after they’ve moved on.”
It’s true that Tommy felt a little on the outside of my chosen crew for hanging and studying with during college, and he sourced out the whore in Orion the minute I introduced them, but…
“O, not only do I not want to hurt Tommy, I don’t want to see him. Don’t even want to think about if he’s married with kids.”
Truthfully, I’ve frozen the Tommy I loved before we split in time. Couldn’t handle seeing him any other way, especially disgustingly happy without me. Or with kids. I don’t begrudge him all the above, just don’t want to see it up close and personal. Not after I promised him and myself as soon as my career was off the ground and his restaurant was solvent, we’d build a family together. That’s not likely anymore, but my stupid body, along with my idiot heart, doesn’t seem to be interested in a family with anyone else. Not even the gorgeous, filthy rich Orion Townsend, best friend who I’d usually do anything for, can tempt me with even a fake offer of a family, let alone a real one.
I was always supposed to be with Tommy, but those days are over. Why the hell can’t I get over him?
“Then go back to face him, Kat. See for yourself that Tommy doesn’t hold you in his grip like you think he does. Sometimes, we don’t know we’ve moved on too, until we confront our past. Sometimes, we have to see that what we thought was the biggest obstacle in our life was knocked down a long time ago before we realize we can take a step into the future.”
God, I detest when Orion makes a valid point that I can’t refute. It usually has to do with something concerning me. As usual, he’s right. How can I move on if I haven’t let go of the idea of a life with Tommy? I’ve been holding on to it, to him, strangling the memories of what we had and were supposed to have been.
I am stuck emotionally. Mentally.
Career-wise, I’m standing strong, but my career doesn’t keep me warm at night. Can’t knock me up with a child. I will have to face Tommy to put him in my rearview mirror for good. If I can. Not being able to, is what terrifies me the most.
I palm the hard, black plaster arms of my chair. “Okay, you’ve swayed me, but if this backfires on me, you’ll be paying for my therapy.”
Orion grins so hard all his perfectly-straight, white teeth on display remind me of a cunning predator. “I pay for all of your other medical needs with the insurance package that comes with your job anyway. Therapy just might be the cheapest thing your doctor puts in a request for payment for.”
“I hope not,” I snipe, getting up to go home and pack.
“You’re just mad because I’m right. Oh, and Devlin has a seat at your table for your plus one if you decide to take anyone… like one of the meaningless encounters you insist on having.” Now, that’s a chair that will remain empty much like the significant other spot in my life it seems.
“Rub it in, why don’t you, jerk?” I utter under my breath.
He laughs. “I heard that. Oh, and your plane takes off in two hours. Your ticket is at checkout, but you should leave now. Security is a bitch everywhere.”
The fucker knew he was going to talk me into going back before he even knocked on my office door. Am I that damn gullible?
I guess so.
I slam my laptop closed, grab it up along with my purse from my bottom drawer, and leave Orion still sedentary on the edge of my desk with a shit-eating grin in the middle of his pie-hole. In the underground garage, I fling myself in my Audi A3, then attempt to collect myself, nerves fraying on the ends.
Tommy. Cannot. Hurt. You. Anymore, Kat. Just walk into his restaurant, say hello, see he’s grown fat and bald and ugly. Let him see that you haven’t changed. Much. Just a little thicker from sitting at a desk. A lot stronger from him breaking you down though. Then, go to the wedding and haul ass back to London. Easy as pie.
I start the engine and merge with the fast-moving traffic in the business district. I better take a cab wherever I go in Colorado. After driving on the left side of the street for ten years, I’m going to kill everybody on the road in Arrow if I get under a wheel there. I know this for a fact because I damn near murdered everyone by car here the first twenty times I drove in London—reflex had me wanting to be on the right side, which is the wrong side in London. I don’t think it’s going to be any quicker to reprogram my instincts in the states. Once they commit to something, usually they stick to it, therefore Tommy’s hold on me.
Without bothering to unload the car of my purse and computer, I enter my double-bedroom flat. I traverse through the average-sized beige and white living area, pass the short, reverse L-shaped wall separating it from the kitchen with black cabinetry and stainless-steel appliances. The atmosphere is neutral in my space, neither happy nor sad. Just is. The way I like it after Tommy. I don’t want to feel anything, except I can’t stay in this zone with a family. Unable to feel therefore unable to love. My children, all children as a matter of fact, and whoever I create mine with should get much more than detachment from me.
I enter the tiny hall connecting the guest bathroom and bedroom. Past those is the master’s and ensuite bath. I duck inside my closet and extract a carry-all bag that I’ll be able to take on the plane. While swiftly stuffing it (before I change my mind) with a few changes of clothes, a wrinkle-proof, fire-engine red dress, and matching stilettos, I dial up my mother’s closest friend. Retired Millie Lomax maintains the upkeep on the house in Arrow for me.
She answers on the third ring. “Hey, Miss Johnson. How are you?”
“Lord, Miss Millie, I’m fine, and I’ve asked you a thousand times to call me, Katara, or Kat like you used to do when I was a child.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times that I would if you weren’t my boss, too.”
“Yeah, well, you deserve the most respect, so you’re stuck with Miss Millie.”
This is a vicious circle we travel in every time we talk. Yet, we both end up laughing at the other in the end. I’m still always Miss Johnson the next time I call.
“You deserve just as much respect when you’re supplementing my granddaughter, Nevaeh’s college education and spoiling her, so you’re stuck with Miss Johnson.”
Thank God, I got something right.
“You know what, Miss Millie? I’m just going to give up on this battle.”
“That’s right, child. You can’t win. I’m the elder here with more weapons and ways to get around you.” She cackles like little old ladies with too much, but well-earned, knowledge are inclined to do.
I can’t help giggling, conceding defeat. After letting her know my guesstimated arrival time tomorrow, I ask would she kindly upset her regular routine to dust and uncover the furniture, then I siphon directions to Tommy’s restaurant from her. That’s when I learn that her granddaughter works there as well. I have to talk her out of buying groceries for the house. They’ll go to waste since I’m not going to be there that long.
She ends the call to start the emergency cleaning. I change my skirt and matching jacket, replaced on the hangers emptied of fitted, stonewashed jeans with designer holes and a sleeveless, high-neck shirt cropped to above my navel. While tying up my sneakers, I deliberate on how stupid could I be to let Orion goad me into turning back the hands of time.
I backtrack out of the house, into my car, before I grow weak under the pressure I’m exerting on myself with worrying about the outcome of this trip. I cover the distance between my flat and the airport in thirty minutes instead of the legal fifty. Long-term parking is usually a bitch to find a vacant space in. Oddly, I find one as soon as the cashier gives me a parking ticket. After an impromptu jog across the pickup and drop off lanes, I breeze through security check with minimal fuss over my two bags.
The check-in line is bizarrely short. It’s almost like something or someone is paving the way for me to get to Arrow sooner than I want to. I still need time to steel myself for seeing Tommy again, even as I walk through the terminal to board the plane.
You can do this, Kat. Even if you can’t right now, you got ten hours of flight-time to figure it out. Besides, Tommy sucks balls. He hasn’t earned your emotions… and he doesn’t own you or Arrow. You have every right to go back there.
But something in me is convinced that he does own me and Arrow lock, stock, and barrel, or I wouldn’t be damn near petrified to go home. It’s his territory now. I’ve tried to make London that for me. Mostly cold, rainy, and gray London. There are no snow-capped Sangre de Cristo Mountains as backdrop anywhere in England. No family or friends here, aside from Orion, to visit on the days that are dreary, which is every minute I’m not working my ass off.
Even when it’s sunny out, warm, the perfect time to be on a date, I rather watch television, sleep in, spring clean in the winter. Anything but date. I wasn’t like that in Arrow where I was constantly looking for any reason to be outside with Tommy, whether the snow had blanketed the ground or the sun was parading in the sky and donating its heat and radiance to everything outdoors.
My existence here is wash, rinse, repeat. No way to live and be happy, clearly. I suspect I’m never going to be that here, too.
Well damn. I miss home. A shit-tastic time to recognize that, Kat, after you left it behind with Tommy. And now, you’re going to look him up? What has the world come to?
And then, I exhale. “I’m going home.”
Something in the pit of my stomach unfurls, then stretches out. For the first time since I left Arrow, I want to go home.
*********
Ten hours later
The plane does unnecessary acrobats while landing. Whatever had unraveled inside me before takeoff in London balls right back up in Colorado. I’m worse off than I was before I left: anxious as hell, hands slightly trembling, a light sheen of sweat on my forehead. I’d think I was in withdrawals, if I had been on some kind of dope recently. Yeah, well, it might not have been recently, but an addict is always an addict, and Tommy was as addicting as heroin. Being forty miles away from him, I’m so close to my next hit, and I’m damn sure that I’m already feening for him.
He’s just a man, Kat. Calm the hell down already. It’s not like you can shoot him up your vein.
I probably would if I could, and that’s just sad. You’d think I’d have jumped on board of Orion’s runaway train to brag and lie to Tommy about how good life has turned out for me. Make him feel bad for cheating on me. Well, I don’t want to, and life isn’t all that gravy.
On the way out of the airport, I find myself smiling while getting into a waiting cab. I can’t recall the last time I felt like doing that without another human being triggering it. Evidently, all I need is the blazing Arrow sun on my face, fresh air rushing down from the mountains, and to be home. Even the much more expensive than it should be cab ride to my childhood home can’t stop me from cheesing like a Cheshire cat that wants to find Tommy right away.
I force myself to go to my house, instead, to drop off my bag. Nothing’s different. The suburbs are still the suburbs with manicured lawns, and it’s ultra-quiet this early in the afternoon. The house is still an imposing two-level, red brick with a long, paved walk from the curb to the front black door, and not where I want to be.
We park on the driveway in front of the side garage. Inside, Millie has uncovered the furniture. I pawn my carry-all off on the brown leather arm chair with gold nail heads, then breathe in the serenity and good memories here. The ones of Tommy visiting daily mess with my head the most—he was welcomed here and as loved by my parents as I am.
To this day, they’re disappointed that Tommy and I didn’t work out. The first time they said that to my face turned me into a raving lunatic for the second time in my life, and that time, I was shrieking about they loved him more than me if they thought I should forgive him. It seems only my loved ones can pull me completely out of character, and I have never regretted more than right now not forgiving Tommy after his only mistake in our relationship.
We’re all entitled to one, right? Just not ninety-nine relapses of the same error.
He was only twenty-nine, still finding himself. Old enough to learn to not to do something again. Was I too harsh on him in the past? Am I making excuses for him now just to justify my wanting him no matter what? Well, I did try to beat him between the eyes with a plant.
I would have, if he hadn’t raised his arm at the last second, which had to have left a bruise on him. With that, I think I got unplanned payback in the end, and it’s sort of hilarious now. It wasn’t even remotely funny back then, but it’s been ten years. How much longer should I let the wound on my heart fester before letting it heal, acquitting him of the damage done?
The half a minute it takes you to get back in the cab to resolve your issues with him, Kat, that’s how long, my heart answers, ready to restore the brokenness in me. Me too, so I dash toward the front door like there’s fire at my heels, stopping at the gold scroll-framed mirror hanging beside the doorway under a straight-back chair.
Checking my hair, a little fluffing of the wavy tresses curtaining my shoulders is the best I can do. I’ve never been one for the makeup, but a little lip gloss has never killed anybody… I don’t think. After putting some on, I lock the house, approach the cab, and scare the bejesus out of the Nigerian driver sitting patiently, reading the newspaper.
He follows the memorized directions that I give him to Tommy’s place a few miles from downtown Arrow, braking before a black canopy mounted to the first floor of the building with a glass-front that sits far apart from other commercial buildings on each side. A ledge over the canopy sports Tommy’s Cuisine in huge, white italic letters. Off to one side of is an alfresco-dining area with its own black, tin overhang surrounding a cordoned off shrubbery in a nook of the building. A classy place to eat, and I’m in jeans and casual top. It sinks in where I’m actually at, and how out of place I am. My eagerness to get here gets up and leaves.
What the hell am I doing?
Showing up unannounced for one. Well, I’m here now. Might as well go in and see which way the tide flows. He could hate the very sight of me. I pray he isn’t married. Would settle for his wife not being here at the moment. She won’t appreciate an old friend dropping in out of the blue skies. I don’t need the drama or want to cause any, but I could definitely eat. It’s been eleven hours since the bottom of my stomach was occupied.
I dangle three twenty-dollar bills over the front seat, along with a generous tip for the cabbie’s trouble. He takes the money, nods his gratitude, then wishes me a good day in a thick accent as I climb out. Advancing on the double-glass door entrance, I scan the interior of the place through the windows. Miniature chandeliers with fluted arms attached to acorn-shaped crystal globes are suspended over various-sized tables spaced spaciously apart. The smaller ones and black, velvet booths meant for creating intimacy are on the outskirts of the dining room.
Stepping past a sign that says Seat Yourself Tuesday onto the shiny black-tiled floor, shit gets real for me, and I almost back out of going any further. Something pushes me forward, propelling me around the servers walking to and fro, balancing trays on their palms. Chatter from the customers filling half of the tables on a Tuesday attests to the restaurant’s success. I scan for the cashier’s stand, locating it in the far-left corner behind a V-shaped, black marble countertop. Tommy’s behind it, speaking low to a couple of women, with a child-size thigh pressed against his backside. The child in his arm doesn’t register with me right then. I have eyes only for him.
Even with his back to me, I know that profile anywhere. A chef coat graces his shoulders that are not too big, too small, or too wide—he was never heavily-muscled, just cut. Oh, but trust me when I say he has enough strength on his trim frame to get any job done. Even now, after so many years, his presence sucks up the air in the room or suctions it from my lungs. I never could figure out which.
Now, that I’ve seen him, I can’t find anything in me that wants to be angry at Tommy any longer. Can’t go back the way I came either, literally or figuratively, not before letting him know I’m in the area. Catching up for old times’ sake doesn’t seem so bad at the moment.
I cross the floor to stand behind him. “You know, Tommy, it’s not fair that you’re still an extra medium and I’ve gained twenty pounds from sitting behind a desk all day.”
It’s almost hysterical how the women in front of him lean to opposite sides in sync, peering around him, checking me out with twin frowns. He swivels around, slowly, as if he wants to savor the moment. The second his midnight gaze lands on me, his eyes begin to slowly bulge out of his head.
“Kat,” he whispers.
The child is in full view now, her existence undeniable.
God, he really does have a child… and she’s sick.
The tube running from her nose to inside her shirt is heartbreaking. If his child is ill, he’s suffering, too. So am I simply because they are.
Nervous as hell, I wave. “Hey, Tommy.”
This is the man I’d given everything I am to and he deceived me, so why the hell am I nervous? I should be grateful he’s not my kid’s father. So why am I not? Because I don’t want him procreating with anybody else. Although I knew it was a possibility before I got here, almost a certainty really. Tommy’s too damn gorgeous to be single. Black, inky jealousy begins to eat at me from inside out. It takes the same amount of strength to move heaven and earth just to preserve eye contact with him and the fake ass smile on my lips.
“Long time, no see,” I say casually.
“You can say that shit again, but don’t. I heard you the first time. Where are you coming from?”
“From my flat.”
“What’s flat? Your tire?” His eyebrows do their best to form a unibrow, clearly baffled.
I giggle, and it almost feels like yesterday when it was he and I as one, and we could talk easily. Right now, I’m finding it extremely hard to chat with his baby girl staring at me. She’s doing what I am, wondering about the girl in front of her.
“No, I wouldn’t start a massacre in Arrow by driving here right now. My flat is my apartment, and who is this beautiful girl?”
“Why is your apartment flat, Kat? How the hell do you get in the damn thing?” He glances down at the child who’s gumming a chew toy for teething, then kisses her on the forehead. “And this is Majestic. Say hello, baby girl.”
It flat out kills me to see him be affectionate with Majestic—she was supposed to be ours. It’s difficult to keep the smile on my face, but I will, even if that kills me, too.
I wiggle my fingers at her, making her grin. Could fall in love with this little girl just because she’s Tommy’s, but I don’t think her mother would care for that.
“Hello, Majestic. I’m Kat. And, my apartment’s not flat, Tommy. It’s a regular apartment. They just call them flats in London.”
One of the women reaches around Tommy for the toddler, most likely the mother, Tommy’s woman or ex. “I’ll take her so you two can talk.”
Both of the women shove off, all three girls glimpsing back periodically as they exit the flap at the end of the countertop together, disappearing into a swinging door that probably opens to the kitchen on their immediate right.
I can see what Tommy sees in the one squirreling away Majestic. She’s beautiful, slim, a little world-weary if her eyes are any indication to go by, but she’s got a coke-bottle frame to die for, mocha-tinted skin, and a pleasant air about her, along with long tendrils of hair slipping from the hair net on her head. I can see what Tommy sees in her but not why he didn’t introduce us or why she wasn’t more curious about me and stuck around to find out my motives for being here. I would have.
Maybe she completely trusts Tommy like I didn’t.
He steps closer to the edge of the counter dividing us, along with a few other hurdles. I center on him again, his forehead wrinkled, one side of his mouth tilted up. His ever-present humor sparking in his eyes next to the long nose that fits his oblong-shaped face to perfection. Every part of him is physically perfect. Still.
Ain’t that a bitch! He’s supposed to be fat, bald, and ugly dammit!
“London, Kat? That’s where you been?” He cocks a thick eyebrow. “And why don’t you just say it’s your apartment? I don’t speak London.”
Here we go with the jokes.
“You speak English, don’t you, Tommy?”
“Not proper English, no. We don’t say apartment here either. We say ‘partment. Damn… you’re bougie, Kat.”
I grin stupidly at him. “I am not bougie, not even a little bit in jeans and sneakers. You are though, with your fancy restaurant and clothes. I can see the bottom of a suit under your chef’s coat, too. Just admit it, you’re the one bougie. It hurts more to deny it.”
He shakes his head. “I feel no pain, woman.”
I do. Just looking at his beautiful ass cocoa complexion under his low haircut with waves that causes seasickness if you stare too long at them makes me ache in certain places that are rude to mention in company. Well, I am staring, and my damn knees are starting to knock.
Shit! He’s still too good looking!
Then he grins. That smile is almost my undoing, except it’s not ladylike to jump taken men or damn near strangers in public, so I restrain myself, barely, and commit to small talk. Until I can prove otherwise, I’m going with he isn’t single.
“So how is everything?”
His smile slips away. “Good as can be… I think. How about you?”
Why is it he doesn’t know? It would be too forward of me to ask though—I’ve only been here for a hot second, too soon to dive into his affairs.
“Things are as good as can be for me, too.” And that’s not an endorsement for how I live, but he doesn’t know that. Suddenly, I wish I’d taken Orion up on his offer. Yeah, well, I didn’t, so I just have to suck it up that Tommy is doing great, and I’m not. “I see Tommy’s is booming like you always wanted it to. Congrats on that.”
He beams a grin so bright at me I almost reach for my Versace shades in my purse, but then I’ll look crazy wearing them in the low lighting. This is a proud, happy man before me. Well, kudos for him. At least one of us has a life worth living outside of work.
I tap my fingertips on the countertop, hoping to drum up another subject. One comes easily to mind. “What’s good here?”
Tommy gives me an ‘are you serious’ glower, eyes threatening to jump out of his head again. “Everything is good here. I’m fucking offended and should tell you to leave for asking that, Kat,” he jests.
Maybe he isn’t joking. Tommy takes his cooking seriously, if nothing else, and even then, he’s the best company to be in. When he isn’t cheating.
Right about now, I wouldn’t mind being the other woman, but I won’t be. Not many people merit the pain that comes with finding out a significant other is giving their goodies away. The most important reason for my visit arises in my mind: I want to know why he wrecked us for Benita, of all people. Wasn’t I good enough for him? What did he need that I wasn’t giving him?
It’s too soon for such an in-depth discussion though, so I ogle his mouth rudely. “I’m not leaving before I’ve eaten, reserve the right to sit in your shit, demand service, and deny you the privilege of kicking me out until I’m full.”
He leans over his hands braced on the countertop. “Lady, I will call the cops on you. You don’t scare them.”
But I scare him, huh?
I erupt with laughter. Respect for the relationship he may have is the only thing keeping me from leaning towards him. He’s sucking me in, as usual. Not good, and I know he doesn’t need the cops to evict anyone from his business. Tommy may be silly, but he taught his sisters and me to kick ass if we need to. I don’t think anyone knows that but me and a few members of his family. He’s not one to gloat about anything but his cooking, more lover and provider than fighter who’ve I’ve missed bantering back and forth with.
He could always take my bad day and make it one of the best, then try to suck my brain out between my thighs. Oh yes, I’ve missed that too, have gone too far with the memories, and probably forgotten more than I remember of his techniques to defend myself, so yeah, not fighting with anybody… anywhere. I throw my hands palm up, calling for a truce with Tommy and with my brain determined to remind me of things best forgotten. There’s no better place to eat in Arrow than wherever he owns the stove.
“Ok, I’m begging you to feed me. I’ll even pay you. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I don’t do flight rations at all, not even after ten hours. Rather starve, and that’s what I’m doing, so have some pity please.”
He turns sideways, eyeballing me. “Humph. Let me think about it. I’d have fed you for free if you hadn’t insulted me with ‘what’s good here?’ Lady, you bumped your head in the bathroom somewhere miles high over the ocean and forgot who I am in the kitchen. The motherfucking boss. Don’t forget that shit again or we’re gonna have problems.”
I know how he likes to solve them too. Where. And what position I’m usually in when he takes his retribution. It used to be a game I played to see if I could piss him off just so he’d make love to me with aggression. There’s two sides to Tommy: the silly and the aggressive man that demands almost every inch of you in the bedroom. He did of me anyway. I’m surprised he didn’t leave enough seed in me to negate the birth control pill I took faithfully before I left Arrow.
Somehow, I’ve always known I’d never make a baby with any other man. Yeah, well, that’s no longer an option if I ever want kids. I’m going to have to accept that…one day, hopefully before my eggs start boiling inside my ovaries.
Then he chuckles. “Come on, let me seat you, Kat. I’ll give your mouth an experience you won’t ever get in London.”
“S-sure,” I stutter, tongue-tied from, ‘You’ve given me plenty of experiences, like the first time I tried to deepthroat you’ hanging from the tip of my tongue.
If I let that thought fly, it’ll be so bad of me, and not my fault. The kind of girl who would say that is who Tommy turns me into whenever he’s close. Hurriedly, I turn away from him, because I’ll go there with him, igniting the drama I’m trying to avoid with possibly another woman’s man. My mind refuses to wrap itself around him belonging to someone else.
Stubborn to a fault, I am.