I needed to hear that.
“Okay,” she said, feeling emotional but not as helpless as she had.
“Stay there until I get this up,” he said, moving to the cabinet under the oversized farmhouse sink to remove the brush and dustpan set.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here all this time?” she asked as he bent his strong and muscled body to clean up her mess.
He paused.
She saw it.
“Looking at me seemed to make you feel worse,” he said. “But I still wanted to be near you, Jaime. I needed to be near you and hoped you would realize you needed me, too.”
Graham rose to his full height. “But you didn’t,” he said before turning to empty the wine and glass into the trash.
Jaime eyed him. “I lost a child.”
“Yes, I hate that you went through that. If there was anything I could’ve done to prevent it I would have,” he said, impassioned. “I lost a child too, Jaime.”
I killed him.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad to see you up,” he said before picking her up to set her down on her foot. “Does it hurt to press down on it?”
“A little bit, but I can walk on it,” she said.
“Good,” he said.
She looked up at him. He returned the stare as she reached up to press her hand to the side of his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb. “I felt guilty for it all,” she admitted. “I didn’t have to go in the storage unit. I didn’t have to try and move that heavy chair and . . . and . . .”
Graham gathered her body close to his. She brought both hands up to grab the shirt on his back as she buried her face against his hard chest and sought her strength from him. “Shit,” he swore before he swung her up in his arms and carried her out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom.
She raised her head from his shoulder. “I want to go back in the nursery,” she said, eyeing the gray and blue room.
Jaymie’s nursery.
Graham set her down on her feet and followed her as she limped into the room.
She looked around. “I want to pack it up,” she said, looking back at him.
He looked unsure. “Are you ready for that?”
She eyed the crib. “Yes,” she said. “I want you and me to do it. Just us. A final goodbye to our son that we can do together.”
Graham stepped up beside her.
“Okay?” she asked as she looked up at him.
He nodded.
“Let’s cover the furniture with sheets and pack everything else in an empty storage bin I have in the hall closet,” she said. “We can donate it.”
“What if you have another child?” Graham asked.
“Doesn’t matter. That child won’t be Jaymie and these were his things,” she stressed, finding some strength in respecting his memory no matter how brief his existence.
Graham left the room and soon returned with sheets and the container. “Can I say a prayer first?” he said.
She eyed him in surprise, knowing his struggle with his relationship with God. “Yes, please.”
He reached for each of her hands and stroked them with his thumb as he lowered his head. “Dear Lord. I am praying for the spirit of our son, Jaymie Walker—”
Jaime stiffened in shock. Because the pregnancy was still early in gestation, a death certificate was not required, but Jaime had still wanted to name him for herself. She never thought about the surname. But it was right. She bit her bottom lip and nodded in approval as she lowered her head again.
“May he be surrounded by the ancestors that have gone on before us. May his soul be at peace. At rest. And out of pain. Father God, help his mother and me, and all who loved and hoped to meet him one day, feel solace as we continue to grieve his loss. For these things, I pray in Jesus’s name. Amen.”
“Amen,” Jaime agreed.
Slowly they began to fold and pack away the things that Jaime purchased for him. Together they covered the crib, chair, and lamp with sheets to protect them from dust. “I may donate them too,” she said.
“It’s up to you,” Graham said. “You purchased everything.”
She watched as he picked up the container.
“I can take this wherever you want it to go,” he offered.
“Thanks,” she said, pausing to allow herself a final look before she left the room.
She smiled a bit to see Graham had paused to do the same. Together they walked down the hall. She finished putting up the groceries he purchased as he set the container by the door.
“I was going to grill some salmon and make a salad,” he said as he entered the room. “Want some?”
“Not really,” she said, having no appetite.
He looked at her. “How about I make you some and put it away in case you change your mind,” he offered.
She shrugged one shoulder before she nodded.
Graham reached for a new bottle of wine and poured her half a glass before he got busy cooking them dinner. Saying nothing, Jaime sipped her drink and eyed him over the rim before she left the kitchen to walk around the apartment. Nothing had changed.
Except me.
Jaime looked across the living room at Graham before she made her way back toward the kitchen. “What have I missed?” she asked, as she leaned against the wall.
He glanced back at her over his shoulder as he seasoned the fish. “Not much, believe it or not,” he said. “The ladies will all be glad to see you up and about. We were worried you might need . . .”
She frowned a little as his words trailed off. “Need what?” she asked.
He focused on preparing the food.
“Need what, Graham,” she asked again.
Wiping his hands on a dishtowel he turned to look across the island at her. “I was going to ask my therapist, Dr. Templeton, to come over and have a talk with you,” he said.
Jaime looked down into her glass.
“Would you like to talk to him?” Graham asked gingerly.
She cut her eyes up at him. “No. Not yet,” she said. “I took the time I needed—as much as I wanted—to grieve. Let me get back to work and life and see how it goes. But thank you,” she stressed.
He nodded his approval as he turned back to his food preparation.
“How are you, Graham?” she asked before another sip that was beginning to warm her belly.
His movements paused. “Better now,” he said without turning.
“Have you been painting?”
Again, he visibly paused. “Some, but not like normal. Whenever the ladies come over, I go home to try and get some work done,” he said as he wrapped the marinated salmon in plastic before setting it in the fridge.
Normal isn’t normal anymore.
“I should be okay if you need to get back to your loft,” she offered, even though she did not want him to go.
He smiled and the dimples appeared. “You kicking me out?” he joked.
“Never,” she said seriously. “But I know you miss your art.”
Graham looked like he wanted to say something. “I’m gonna take a shower while the salmon marinates,” he said.
“What were you about to say?” she asked, feeling sure that it was some other thought he kept from her.
“I was offered an artist-in-residence position at a museum,” he said, unable to contain his happiness about that.
She smiled and walked over to slide her arms around his waist to squeeze him tightly. “Congratulations, Graham,” she said, happy for him even as she couldn’t escape wondering if their son would have inherited his talent.
Along with his eyes and those dimples.
“Thanks,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Which museum? When do you start? For how long? Any pieces you have in mind to create for them?” she asked, lowering her arms to take a step back from him.
“The museum is in Paris, Jaime,” he said, watching her carefully.
She instantly turned her bac
k to him to keep from showing him her disappointment. “Paris,” she said, forcing joviality into her tone that sounded awkward. “Paris should be amazing.”
“Jaime,” he said.
He took a step forward. She knew that from her senses shifting into high alert before he even landed his large hands on her shoulders to gently turn her to face him again. She lowered her eyes. He used a finger to her chin to raise her head. She closed her eyes.
“Jaime,” he said again, his tone admonishing.
He was leaving again, and she had no right to ask him to stay. They weren’t in a relationship. Neither promised the other a future even as they declared love for each other.
I have no right to ask him not to go.
“Look at me, Jaime,” he demanded.
She opened her eyes and instantly got lost in his.
Please don’t go.
The look in his eyes changed and she saw his regret. “I love you, Jaime,” he said.
She shook her head and jerked it away from his touch.
Stop saying that and you’re leaving. So why say it? Why keep me honed into you and you’re leaving me? Again.
But she didn’t say it. She didn’t have the will to argue. She couldn’t find the fuck to give to debate his decisions for his life. They had reconnected after so many years and now it was time for that to come to an end.
It’s over.
“When do you leave?” she asked.
“Not until you are better,” Graham said.
She looked at him, immediately believing he was sacrificing his career and his happiness to ensure that she was safe and okay. Her anger dissipated. She released a heavy breath and gave him a smile tinged with sadness. “Is your inability to forgive me the motivation for you to leave the country?” she asked, unable to help herself.
“No,” he answered her quickly and emphatically. “The position was offered to me. I didn’t seek it out.”
“Of course it was. You’re brilliant, Graham,” she said in a soft voice. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve overcome. Everything you have accomplished. The man that you are and the even greater one that you’re becoming.”
There was much more she wanted to say. To reveal. To plead.
Graham, please don’t go.
But she refrained. It felt selfish to even ask him to refuse such an opportunity. She had already selfishly given in to her wants and desires without thought to others or the consequences.
And she could see how badly he wanted the position.
“Tell me more about it,” she asked, as she forced herself to show him nothing but pride of him and joy for him.
“The museum wants me to curate an exhibit honoring Blacks in Parisian history. We’re crafting the list of subjects, but I definitely want to include Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges,” Graham said as he led her to the living room to settle onto the couch.
Jaime listened to him describing the eighteenth-century conductor of a symphony orchestra who was the son of an enslaved Black woman. He revealed he had already begun to research more about the man some considered the “Black Mozart,” and his enthusiasm was infectious. The joining of history and his art was ideal for him. The well-respected museum offering him the position without his provocation was groundbreaking. Even when he spoke of his plans for the next year that he lived in Paris, she didn’t let the panic she felt show. She was grateful for the warmth offered by the lit fireplace even as she felt cold at the thought of never seeing him again.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth.
Kiss me.
His hands.
Touch me.
The imprint of his dick against his pants.
Fuck me.
And the spot behind his chest where his heart pumped life into his body and held love for her—that she knew.
Forgive me.
“When do you leave?” she asked again.
Graham rubbed his hands over his mouth as he looked into the blaze inside the fireplace.
She saw his struggle between wanting to be there for her and wanting to claim this major accomplishment—a feat for a young Black man who overcame so much in his life. She knew what he needed to hear. She took a breath and freed him, knowing missing him again would be her cage.
“I’m better,” Jaime said.
Graham looked over at her. His eyes searched her face.
“I’m better,” she repeated, reaching to cover his large hand with one of her own. He picked it up and kissed the back of her hand. She shivered from the feel of his lips against her skin. Her heart broke, but she allowed a small smile to form on her lips.
He stared at her. His desire for her was undeniable in his eyes, but she knew his determination to not indulge in sex frivolously. When she rose and withdrew her hands from his, she helped him to deny his longing once more—and admitted that even one last tryst with Graham would do nothing to ease the heartache to come.
“Let’s talk about more over dinner,” she said. “I’m going to put on some clothes for the first time in a month.”
He rose as well. He started to reach for her, but closed his hand into a fist instead, denying them both. “The food should be ready in twenty minutes,” he said.
“Be right back,” she promised, turning and walking out of the living room as quickly as she could without revealing how badly she needed to not be so close to Graham.
In her bedroom, she gladly closed the door and then leaned back against it as she closed her eyes and fought like hell not to let sadness overtake her life again.
Life goes on. Even after losing your child . . . or the love of your life.
She crossed the room to reach her bathroom and was soon standing nude beneath the spray of the shower. Her hand slid across her belly and she recoiled at the feel of the slightly raised edges of her scar. She looked down at her belly. By now it would have been heavy with their baby. Since her release from the hospital, she had avoided that reminder of her surgery. Of her loss.
Jaime released a shaky breath and pressed her soap-covered hand against her womb. She thought of the moments she and Graham shared to say goodbye to him as his parents. It had been necessary, and her grief was no longer as searing.
She relaxed her body and continued her shower, not feeling thankful that her sorrow was easing but at peace that it was the next step in her healing. In time, she hoped she would begin to feel the same acceptance for Graham being gone from her life. Hopefully sooner than later.
Jaime dressed in an ivory oversized boyfriend sweater that came to her knees and slipped off one shoulder. She left her bedroom and walked down the hall. When she came to the second bathroom, she could hear the shower and paused. Thoughts of Graham naked as the water hit the hard contours of his body caused her to lean her head against the door as she pressed her hand to the wood.
All her rationale of needing space and wanting to respect his celibacy was harder to accept at that moment. Not with just a door and a few steps between her and Graham. She dropped her hand to the knob and gripped it tightly.
Fighting temptation.
Let it go. Let him go.
She turned and pressed her back to the door just as it opened and left her to fall backward onto the floor with a shriek as the steam escaped in swirls.
“Jaime?” Graham asked in concern, squatting down.
She opened her eyes and gasped. The towel around his waist gaped open, exposing his dick dangling between his open thighs.
And that was too hard to deny.
Quickly, she turned over onto her side and raised her head to take his inches into her mouth with a shuddering groan.
“Oh, shit!” Graham exclaimed as he dropped to his knees and thrust his hips forward as she eagerly sucked him to hardness.
Jaime dragged her tongue from the thick base, along the pulsing vein running along the length of his dick and then to the tip to circle and then suck deeply as he weaved his fingers through her hair to grip.
“Jaime,” he said, lo
oking down at her with his eyes filled with his desire—almost wild with it—as he stroked inside her mouth.
She shifted her head this way and that as she adjusted to the slight curve of it to take in as much of him as she could.
“Careful,” he warned, his voice thick with his satisfaction.
She loved the feel of it against her tongue—the softness of his skin covering such hardness—but freed his dick as she moved to kneel in front of him. He shifted his hand to grip his dick as he watched her pull her sweater over her head to fling it away, leaving her in nothing but yellow lace panties.
Graham placed his free hand on the side of her face as he lowered his own to suck her lips with a deep moan that seemed to be filled with hunger, his love for her, and his anguish at being unable to deny himself.
And perhaps at allowing himself the treat of their passion as a final goodbye.
Jaime broke their kiss to tilt her head back and close her eyes as she fought for her tears not to fall. He kissed her neck as she snaked her arms around his waist to press against his muscled back and bring their upper bodies together. The feel of his smooth chest hair tickling her taut nipples sent goosebumps over her entire body.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
She placed her hands on each of his broad shoulders as she rose before him. Graham eyed her body, and the heated look in his eyes warmed her core as he leaned forward to press his face against the plump vee, bringing his hands up the back of her calves.
She shivered.
Up to the back of her thighs.
She slightly gasped.
He eased his hands under the yellow lace to gather her buttocks into his hands as he bit the mound through her panties.
Her knees buckled and she cried out.
Slowly he removed her panties. He came around her body and rose from his knees, retracing its path with his tongue from her ankles, calves, thighs, and then buttocks. He took a deep bite of each cheek before kissing them and rising to lick every inch of her spine. He felt her shiver against his tongue.
“Graham,” she sighed at the feel of his hands on her breasts as his fingers skillfully teased her nipples.
Against her back, she felt his heart pounding. The hard length of his dick was cupped by the cheeks of her buttocks. Against her neck, he blew streams of cool air before sucking her nape and stoking her desire to have him inside her.
Her Pleasure Page 24