My fingers stroked the top of his head.
He continued, “We all have baggage, things we never plan to tell anyone.”
I nodded, but before I could thank him for his understanding, he said, “And since we’re sharing, there’s something you should know about me.”
I tilted my head, thinking he’d already told me so much.
“I introduced myself to you as Xavier King. But that’s not who I am.”
13 Chastity
This was my favorite part of the hot stretching class—the end, when we lay on the floor in the dark for three minutes, allowing for muscle recovery. But the Lord knew this was restoration for my soul. I’d made it through another hot-as-Hades session.
“Close your eyes and free your mind,” Kourtney sang as she dimmed the lights.
Like instructed, I closed my eyes, but I didn’t free my mind. Instead, I did what I’d done for the last week whenever there was space for an idle thought. My mind had stayed stuck on Xavier since our night that had turned into a weekend a week ago.
When I pressed my back into my mat, I remembered the feel of him. I inhaled and recalled the scent of him, and then I had to do everything in my power not to lick my lips, because if I did, I’d moan aloud at the memory of the taste of him.
But even with the wonder of making love for the first, second, tenth, and fiftieth time, what stayed with me most were the words he’d uttered:
“I introduced myself to you as Xavier King. But that’s not who I am.”
I opened my eyes, remembering the way those words had shook me, and in the passing seconds, my mind had overloaded with murderous conspiracies… and then thoughts that he was in the witness protection program… and then imaginings that he was a spy from the Maldives. Before I could reach for the phone and call the FBI, he saved me from that embarrassment.
Eight days before:
“My name is Xavier, but my last name, the name that was on my birth certificate, is Owens,” he said. “But I changed it.” He paused as if I was supposed to let him end the story there, but I had so many questions. Before I could go through the list, Xavier rolled away from me. As his eyes stayed on the ceiling, he continued, “Like everything else, this goes back to my grandmother. The older I got, the less she and I communicated. It was fine by me. I had a plan to get out of Mississippi and never look back.”
“Is that when you came to New York?”
He nodded. “I spent a lot of time in the library reading up on New York after Aunt Virginia told me about my father. So I saved the money I received from odd jobs around the neighborhood and…” He paused, and I could tell he was deciding how much he wanted to say. “Gifts I’d received. The night before my high school graduation, I decided to ask Gran if she wanted to attend the ceremony. To be honest, I didn’t know if she knew I was graduating or not.” He stopped, as if he had to soak in the memory before he continued. “Maybe I wanted to give her a final chance to make amends. But when I asked her, she stared through me as if I weren’t even standing there.”
This time, when he stopped, I leaned into him, wanting to be close as he remembered that awful time. He wrapped his arms around me, and I rested my head on his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart.
“My grandmother never said a word, so I went back to my bedroom and stuffed a duffel bag with every single piece of clothing I owned. I left out my suit, my good shoes, and a box where I’d kept my money. All I had was that money and my dreams, and the next day, I left before my grandmother woke up. When I marched across the auditorium’s stage, there was not a single person there to celebrate me.
“Two hours later, I was on a bus to New York, leaving more than the dust of Sumner behind. No matter where I ended up, I didn’t want to be Xavier Owens, that worthless kid from Mississippi. My mom had given me the name Xavier, so I kept that. But Owens…” He shook his head. “Owens was my grandmother’s last name. So I became what she thought I’d never be. I changed my last name to King.”
“AND… THAT’S A wrap,” Kourtney sang.
When the lights came up, I popped up and, for the first time since I’d been coming to this class, I beat my mom standing up.
“You’re getting the hang of this.” My mother laughed.
I’d been home for well over a month, and the sheer joy that emanated from my mother still surprised me.
“It’s taken a while, but I’m finally enjoying this.”
“Hmmmm,” my mother hummed. “I’m still salty you missed class last Saturday… and then Sunday, too?” she said, as if I were still a child under her roof and the rule of No matter what you did on Saturday, you have to go to church on Sunday still applied.
“I told you, Mom, I had plans last weekend.” That had been my story. But right now, my thoughts weren’t on last week; all I could think about was what was going to unfold in the next few minutes.
I glanced at my watch.
My mother tilted her head. “You have an appointment?”
“No,” I said without looking at her. “I just, you know, wanted to know the time.”
She frowned like my words sounded as odd to her as they did to me, but then Kourtney strolled by and took my mother’s attention away. I strolled to the cubes, where I’d left a bigger bag than I normally brought with me.
I inhaled, trying to calm the flutters within. As the minutes ticked closer, I wondered why I had done it this way—This. Was. A. Setup. And now that I’d had time to think, I wanted to call it off, because setups never went well.
But it was too late, and all I could do was pray, Please, God, over and over.
At about my tenth Please, God, the studio door opened and Xavier peeked inside. His eyes passed over my fellow stretching enthusiasts, clad in boy shorts and capri leggings, sports bras and the skimpiest of tees. But my man’s eyes didn’t pause—not until his glance rested on me.
Then his grin was the bolt that lit the room, and my stomach somersaulted. It had been just a couple of hours since I’d rolled from his bed, but I had missed him.
“Hey, you,” he said, sounding like he’d missed me, too. He didn’t give me a chance to respond before he pulled me into his arms and our lips locked in a kiss. When he leaned away, he asked, “You ready?”
“Chastity?”
That quickly—truly, it had happened that fast—I’d forgotten. That’s what Xavier did to me—he made me forget: forget where I was, forget that I had home training, forget about the plan… the setup.
But now all of my sensibilities rushed back. I whipped around and faced her with what had to be the silliest grin. “Oh, Mom, I forgot.”
“Forgot what?” she drawled. Then, “Never mind, I can see.” Her words were meant for me, but her eyes were on my man. “And who is this gentleman?” Every bit of her Southern roots came out in her tone and her manner.
“Oh,” I said, as if this meeting had been completely coincidental. “This is my friend, Xavier King, and Xavier”—I turned to him—“this is my mom, Sisley Jeffries.”
Both of their eyebrows rose in surprise, though Xavier didn’t match the smile on my mother’s face.
“Xavier. What a stately name,” my mother said. She held out her hand. “It’s very nice to meet you, though I have to say I’m a bit surprised.” Then my mother turned to me and shoved me, as if we were just girls. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”
This was the first time I’d ever seen Xavier stand so still, so stiffly. “Uh, Mrs. Jeffries, you’re not the only one surprised.”
“My mom met me here at my stretch class,” I said to him, hoping my mother wouldn’t out me and tell Xavier she met me here every Saturday. Then, to her, I said, “And Xavier and I are driving up to Bear Mountain.”
“Really?”
“Uh, yeah. We’re going to take a day trip, and he came to pick me up.”
“No wonder you’ve been looking at your watch.” She turned back to Xavier. “So I hope this is just a day trip, because I have a feeling you’re the
reason Chastity missed church last Sunday.”
“Uh… uh,” he stuttered.
“Mom!” I exclaimed. “I told you what happened.”
She shrugged. “I was just making a simple statement.” Then, with the broadest of smiles, she said to Xavier, “She certainly can’t miss two Sundays.”
“Uh… no… ma’am,” he said. “She… can’t.”
“Great. And I hope this means you won’t miss church tomorrow either, Mr. King. I hope you’ll be joining us.”
I held my breath as Xavier said, “Ma’am?”
“Any friend of my daughter’s is certainly a gentleman her father and I would like to get to know. So let this be a proper invitation for you to join me, Pastor, and Chastity for church tomorrow and then dinner at our home afterward.”
How had a casual meeting turned into church and dinner? My plan had been that my mother would meet Xavier, then she’d run home, tell my father, and after a few weeks of the two of them probing and prodding, I would talk Xavier into a formal meeting. But that was supposed to be weeks, even a month or three, from now.
“Uh… Mom,” I said, now stuttering myself. “Uh, I think Xavier has plans.”
“Well, certainly, you’re free tomorrow morning,” she said to him. “Even if you can’t make it to dinner, church will be just fine,” she pressed.
Why was she doing this? Why had I done this?
“So, we’ll see you, then?”
“I, uh… I’ll let you know.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” My mother did one of those claps where her hands barely touched. I wanted to slap her hands to her sides, right after I slapped myself.
“We have to get going,” I said, afraid of what else my mother might say.
“You two have a great time, and it was so nice meeting you, Xavier King.” She hugged him, even as he still stood stiff as a stone. When she stepped back from the embrace, she added, “We’ll see you tomorrow.” She dismissed me with an air-kiss and a whisper, “Yes, you’ve been keeping secrets. I hope you haven’t been telling lies.”
I didn’t respond, just took Xavier’s hand and dragged him from that place. In silence, he led me to the car he’d rented for the day, and after he opened the door of the BMW and I slipped inside, I held my breath as I watched him round the car.
When he slid into the driver’s seat, I said, “I’m so sorry,” before he even started the ignition.
He didn’t respond as he backed the car from the spot and eased into the lane.
“My mother was so overbearing, and that’s not what I meant to happen,” I said, swiveling in the seat so I faced him. “I didn’t expect her to ask you to come to church.” I chuckled. “Of course, you don’t have to go.”
When we edged out of the parking lot and onto Riverside Drive, he pulled the car to the curb.
I kept on, “Because it was too much. I can’t believe…”
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel, startling me, making my head rear back. “Why would you do that?” he shouted—no, he screamed, a sound that made the windows rattle. “Why would you put me in that situation? Didn’t you think I’d want to be prepared to meet your mother?”
“Yes, but…”
“You set me up!”
I sat still because I was so shocked. It took moments for my brain to send a message to my lips. Slowly, I said, “I just wanted you to meet her.” I paused to steady my voice. “I wanted you to have a casual meeting with no pressure. I didn’t want to set up something formal because I didn’t want you to think I was pushing this relationship. I’m not; I just wanted you to meet her. That’s it.”
“And now she invited me to church!” he said, as if that were the sin. At least his voice had dropped a decibel, though the way his fingers curled around the steering wheel, I was sure it would break in half.
It took a few silent moments before I said, “I’m really sorry, Xavier.” I was more stunned than apologetic.
His fingers flexed, then relaxed, flexed, then relaxed, almost in sync with the throbbing in his temple. After too many moments of that, I said, “I’m sorry,” again, before I reached for the car door’s handle. But by the time I slid out, he had jumped out and ran around to my side.
As Xavier came toward me, my heart raced, and I wondered if there was any way to outrun him. But then I saw his eyes and the apology that shined from him. I recoiled when he reached for me, but when he pulled me into his arms, I released a long breath into his shoulder. Still, it took me a moment before I wrapped my arms around him.
“I’m sorry,” we said together.
He said, “I was just shocked.” He stood back. “First your mother, then an invitation to church? That’s a lot.”
“I know, and it wasn’t supposed to go down that way. I just wanted you to meet her in a situation that didn’t feel like a big deal. But it turned out to be one anyway. I’m sorry,” I said, looking into his eyes. “This was all my fault.”
He nodded as if he agreed, and that surprised me. I thought he’d say something like the fault belonged to us both. Yes, I was the action, but he was the opposite and inappropriate reaction.
I said, “And forget about what my mother said about church. That was just my mom being my mom.”
He stared over my head, and I knew he was having another memory. Then he said, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been to church. Maybe it’s time.”
My mouth opened as wide as my eyes. “Really?”
Another moment, then, “Yeah, especially if I’m going with you.” A pause as if he was giving himself time to think. “Yes, it’s time.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you really want to, I’d love to have you with me.”
“Good. Because I want to go, even if you did set me up.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, hoping he wasn’t going to make me apologize all day.
Again, he nodded, without any acknowledgment of his part. Instead, he pressed his lips against mine, and I fell right into that good feeling. Until my memory flashed back to: Xavier and that steering wheel.
I tensed, and Xavier leaned away. “You okay?”
This time, I was the one who nodded.
He asked, “We’re okay?”
A beat passed. “Yeah.” Another beat. “Definitely.”
“Great. Let’s get on the road.” He opened the car door, and I hesitated for a second before I slipped inside.
Once I clicked on my seat belt, Xavier leaned in, and I tensed as he kissed my forehead. He leaned back with a bit of a frown, but then he smiled when I did.
He slammed the door shut, and by the time he trotted around and jumped back into the driver’s seat, I was convinced I was overreacting. Of course Xavier had been angry. I’d set him up in what had to be one of the most uncomfortable positions for a man. And now I was making too much of his reaction.
Then, in my mind, I saw his fingers and the steering wheel. But I pushed that image aside. He’d been upset, and it was my fault.
Nothing like this would happen again.
14 Xavier
I grinned as I glanced at Chastity, her fingers speed-texting.
“Okay,” she exhaled. “I told my mother we’ll be there in less than five minutes.” She peered out the car’s window. “Oh, God.” Like she’d done the last dozen times after she’d exclaimed those words, she lifted her compact, smoothed her hair, checked her makeup, then glossed her lips. As she snapped the compact shut, she asked, “Do you think my father will know?”
Because asking me this question was another thing she’d done a dozen times, I knew what she was talking about. Still, I answered, “Know what? That you’re a freak in bed?”
I wasn’t sure what horrified her more—my words or the way the driver glanced at us with a sly grin.
I laughed, but when she moaned, I pulled her back into my arms. “Would you just stop?” I whispered.
“I can’t,” she hissed. “We’re about to step into my father’s church, and he can see things
. You don’t know, but he’s going to take one look at us and”—she lowered her voice even more—“he’s going to know we slept together last night.”
I shifted to inside-voice mode when I murmured, “We didn’t exactly sleep much, so if that’s what he sees, we’re good.”
She shoved me away and then twisted so that her back was against the car’s door. “Xavier, I’m serious.” She folded her arms.
“I know you are—that’s what makes this so funny.”
“My father is going to take one look at us and then…” She moaned the end of her sentence.
“Would you relax? First, your father isn’t going to be able to look at you and see that three hours ago we were sweating between the sheets, and even if he did, you’re a grown woman.”
“A grown woman who was raised in the church.”
I waved my hand as if that wasn’t a factor. “I’ve known lots of church girls, and…” The heat of her stare stopped my revelation.
“Oh, really?” Her left eyebrow rose. “How many church girls have you known?”
“All I’m saying,” I began, “is you don’t have to worry. I’m going to be on my best behavior, your father will love me, and we will enter then leave that church with your virtue intact. And do you know why?”
Her eyes, her tone, were still doubtful. “Why?”
“Because I love you.”
Inch by inch, she melted until her arms were by her sides.
Her dumbfounded stare made me cup her chin with my fingertips. “I love you,” I repeated, “and you don’t have to say it back. I said it because I want you to know what love means to me. It means I’ve got you; I’ve got you with your parents, I’ve got you with your job, I’ve got you with your friends, I’ve got you wherever and whenever you need me. I’ve got you because I love you.”
My words had shocked her, and really, I was a bit surprised myself. This hadn’t been the way I planned to say that; I’d wanted to create more of a memory. But those words were what this moment needed, and since I was ready, I was fine with it.
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