We were a perfect match. A perfect friendship match.
And that was my dilemma. D’Angelo was a great distraction from my regular rigid schedule that didn’t go much beyond working fourteen-hour days. I wanted to keep this on the friendship scale and D’Angelo seemed to understand that.
After his flirtations and double entendres, he was always a gentleman and always kept it on the friendship tip.
And I didn’t want that to change. I didn’t want D’Angelo to think that this invitation to Sheridan’s party was anything beyond our friendship.
So now here I was, sitting with my phone in my hand, still turning it over in my head, asking myself the same question: should I or shouldn’t I? I’d sat here for so long, asked the question so much, that I was getting on my own nerves.
“Just do it, Kendall,” I said, and clicked on D’Angelo’s number at the same time.
He answered on the first ring like he always did when I called. “Hey, pretty lady.”
“Hey, yourself.” I grinned, then tried to pull my smile back. I couldn’t believe the way I got all schoolgirl-giddy when I heard his voice. It was a reflex.
“So, what’s up? What do you need? Another house? Another missing person?”
“It’s not that way anymore, D,” I said. “Haven’t I done better with that?”
“Yup, you have. So I guess you’re calling ’cause you want to hang out. See, I told you that you still loved me.”
I laughed. “Well, I am calling for something like that. Not the love part, though,” I said, thinking I needed to correct him even if it were a joke. “But a friend of mine is having a party . . .”
“Uh-oh, this is serious.”
“Why?”
“When a woman is ready to introduce you to her friends, that’s serious.”
I frowned. Was he kidding or was this call a serious move? It had been so long, I just didn’t know.
“Well, if you don’t want to go,” I began.
“What’re you talking about? I’d go anywhere with you.”
I breathed and did that schoolgirl grin again.
“So, when am I going to have the pleasure of escorting you to said party?”
“Tomorrow; it starts at—”
“Tomorrow?” he groaned before I could even finish. “Wow, you don’t give a guy much notice.”
“Do you already have plans?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m really sorry.”
“That’s okay,” I said as fast as I could, keeping my voice as light as possible, and at the same time wondering why I felt so disappointed. It was ridiculous that I’d called D’Angelo the night before the party and expected him to be free. What was I thinking?
And what was I thinking about asking him anyway? This was not who I was, this was not who we were.
“So, can I get a rain check on this?” he asked.
“Of course,” I lied.
“Great, and Kendall,” he said, calling me by my name for one of the first times ever, “I’m really sorry. If I could change my plans, I would.”
“No biggie,” I said. “I should’ve told you about this sooner. Listen, I really have to go. Bye-bye.” I’d spoken so fast and hung up so abruptly I knew D’Angelo was probably staring at his phone. And he was probably laughing at me, too.
I tossed my phone onto my bed and walked over to my window. Why had I done that? Why didn’t I just listen to my first mind? And . . . who did he have plans with and what did he plan to do?
I shook my head. I was so mad at myself. See, this is what happened when you let your guard down. I wasn’t built for this. D’Angelo nor any other man on earth would ever have to worry about me making another call like this. From now on, I was going to stick to what I knew, what I did best. I was going to keep my eyes on my business and nothing or no one else.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
I was running late. On purpose. Because it took everything within me to even come to this party tonight. What I’d wanted to do was stay in my office and work. It was time for me to start thinking about a third location for my spa, maybe a Woman’s Place in the Valley. That would keep me beyond busy for the next couple of years.
But in the meantime, there was no way for me to get out of this party. I had to go. I had to congratulate and be happy for Christopher and Evon, giving them blessings for however long this marriage lasted.
Now, I knew that wasn’t the right attitude and it wasn’t that I wished anything bad for this young couple. It’s just that I knew happily-ever-after really only lasted for a couple of minutes.
I stepped up to the front door, but it swung open before I could even knock. And there I was face-to-face with Asia, the lady-in-waiting.
“You’re late,” she said. “Christopher and Evon are already here.”
“Hello to you, too.”
As I walked inside, she stepped outside and glanced to her left, then to her right. When she saw nothing, she swung around, closed the door, and with all kinds of accusations in her tone, she said, “Where is he?”
“Who?”
“The guy you were bringing to the party!”
“Is that why you were at the door waiting for me?”
She grinned. “I wanted to be the first one to greet your new man.”
I shook my head. “You wanted to be nosy, but it was a waste because there is no man. I don’t know where you got that idea.”
She paused for a moment, then waved her hand. “You’re right. What have I been drinking? You with a man?” She laughed and hooked her arm through mine. “We’ll be each other’s dates for tonight, but don’t get it twisted and don’t get used to this. I plan to get back on the playing field, so soon you’ll be all by yourself.”
Asia had no idea how true her words were, at least for me. I’d be fine being by myself. That’s when I was at my best.
“Kendall!” Sheridan shrieked. “I was beginning to worry about you.” She wrapped her arms around me.
“Sorry, I got a little caught up.”
“Wait, don’t tell me. At the office, right?”
But that was a rhetorical question, because before I could respond, Sheridan grabbed my hand and dragged me across the backyard, which sparkled with glittering lights that became brighter as the sun made its slow descent. A long table, flush against the back wall, was covered with a multitude of food and all along the perimeter of the backyard about a dozen small round tables were draped with white clothes and held lavender bouquets of flowers as centerpieces.
But I didn’t get a chance to admire the setting; I was too busy trying to keep up with Sheridan as my heels dug small holes into the grass with every step that I took. We stopped right at the gazebo.
“Christopher, look who’s here!”
Her son and new daughter-in-law were standing under the gazebo, looking like a prince and princess awaiting their subjects. They were dressed almost alike, a bit more casually than their guests, but I figured that was because they’d just come off a plane. Evon wore skinny jeans, a white T-shirt, and a navy blazer. Christopher wore khakis, but that was the only difference between them.
“Congratulations, you two,” I said, hugging Christopher.
“Thanks, Aunt Kendall,” he said. Then he said, “I don’t think you’ve met Evon.” He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “This is my wife, Evon LaCroix, and Evon, this is a good friend of my mother’s.”
“My name is Evon Hart,” she said, giving her new husband a sideward glance.
“Oh, yeah!” Christopher grinned.
Turning to me, she said, “My husband keeps forgetting that.” Then she held out her hand and said, “Nice to meet you.”
But I playfully slapped her hand away. “We don’t do handshakes around here, only hugs.”
I wrapped her in a tight embrace. “Congr
atulations, and I wish you both all of God’s blessings.”
“Thank you,” they said together, then looked lovingly into each other’s eyes and beamed as if their talking at the same time, and saying those exact words, was just another sign of the destiny they were meant to share.
If this wasn’t my best friend’s son’s reception, I would’ve gagged.
“I have something for the two of you.” I reached into my purse and handed Evon the envelope.
“Thank you,” they said together, and did that lovey-dovey-looky thing again. Then Christopher added, “And thanks for coming, Aunt Kendall.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. So, were you surprised?”
“Very,” they said together, then giggled.
Oh, brother! I thought, before I said, “Well, I’m going to see who else is here.” I had to get away from all of that love, and I doubted if Christopher and Evon even noticed when I turned away. They were so busy gazing into each other’s eyes. I was about two feet away from them when Tori, bounced over to me.
“Hey, Aunt Kendall.”
I greeted Sheridan’s daughter with a hug.
“I know you have one of those for me.”
Right behind Tori was Mrs. Collins, Sheridan’s mother, making her way toward me as she balanced herself on her cane. Just seeing her made my smile wider. “How’re you?” I squeezed my arms around the woman who reminded me so much of my mother. From the moment I met her, Mrs. Collins had treated me with loving-kindness, though when she thought I was working too hard, or if I missed one too many church services, she was right on my case. A couple of times I thought she was gonna take a swing or two at me with her cane—something my mother would’ve done. I had really missed the weeks that this lady had been gone. “It’s good to have you back.”
“It’s good to be home. I always have such a great time in San Francisco with my son, but they don’t have anything like the Woman’s Place up there. I can’t wait to get there next week for one of those great massages.”
I laughed. “Well, as a welcome-home gift, the first one is on me.”
Mrs. Collins shook her head. “You know I pay my own way,” she said, in a tone that sounded like she was scolding me.
What she said was true. I’d tried to give Mrs. Collins a couple of free treatments, but she always declined, telling me that she wanted to make sure I was making money. “Let’s go get a plate of all of this fabulous food,” Mrs. Collins said, leading the way.
I was happy to oblige. I hadn’t eaten all day in preparation for this feast. Having been at the tasting at Rendezvous with Sheridan a few weeks back, I knew exactly what to expect.
After we filled our plates, Sheridan’s mom and I sat down at one of the tables and chatted about her time in Northern California and my thoughts about opening another spa.
“That sounds exciting,” she said to me. “But I hope you’re taking some time to enjoy yourself. You know what they say about all work and no play?” Before I could answer, she said, “All work and no play means you’ll never meet the right guy.”
I was just about to tell Mrs. Collins that I wasn’t one of those women who lived to have a man, when behind me, someone said, “I think the lady is right.”
I was smiling before I even turned around. I jumped up and hugged D’Angelo. But then, as Sheridan’s mom’s eyes were on me, I pulled away. “Mrs. Collins, this is my friend D’Angelo.”
He shook her hand, but neither had a chance to say a word to the other because I dragged D’Angelo away from Mrs. Collins and everyone else in the backyard and pulled him behind the gazebo.
“What’re you doing here?” I whispered.
“Uh . . . I thought you invited me.” He matched the volume of my voice.
“I did, but you said you had plans.”
“Okay, but then when I thought about it, and I weighed my plans versus being with you . . . you won, by a landslide.”
I grinned. I’m telling you . . . it was reflex with him.
“That’s not a problem, is it?” He looked around, then lowered his head close to mine and whispered, “I mean, did you bring someone else?”
“No.” I laughed. “I’m glad to see you, but how did you know where . . .”
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I didn’t even bother finishing the question. If D’Angelo had proven anything to me, it was that he had no problem getting his hands on information. He seemed to have NSA-type connections and it probably took him all of two minutes to find out about my best friend and where she lived. So, instead of pursuing that line of questioning, I just thanked him again for coming and led him back around the gazebo.
“Whew! I thought you were gonna keep me hidden all night.”
If I were a different woman, I would’ve told him he was too fine for that. But instead, I said, “Let me introduce you to my friends.”
“Well, we’ve already met,” Sheridan said. The way she came right over, I wondered how much of our conversation had she overheard. “I answered the door when D’Angelo got here,” she told me.
“Well, he hasn’t met me.” Asia was halfway across the yard, so I had no idea how she’d zoomed in on what was going on in my lane. But she did, and she sauntered toward us, doing her normal sexy strut that I didn’t find so cute today. For some reason, I wanted to punch her right in her nose.
D’Angelo’s eyes did what all men’s eyes did when Asia was in the vicinity—his glance took a journey up her body, then back down. He never even blinked, and neither did Asia.
She held out her hand. “I’m Asia.”
D’Angelo put his arm around my shoulder before he took her hand and told her his name. But I hardly noticed the way he took her hand quickly, and then dropped it. I guess that was because all of my attention was on the way D’Angelo’s arm rested on me. So comfortably, as if he belonged there.
I wasn’t as comfortable as he was, though. We hadn’t touched in that way; of course, he’d held my hand as he helped me out of the car or led me into a restaurant. But this arm-across-the-shoulders felt a bit intimate and I had to resist the urge to shrug him off.
Sheridan said, “D’Angelo, would you like something to eat?”
“I’ll take you over there,” I said, stepping away from his hold and my friends at the same time.
On the way to the buffet table, we stopped to talk to Sheridan’s mother a little more, and then I introduced D’Angelo to Christopher and Evon. As we sat at a table, Brock came over, and after that, D’Angelo was taken away from me. But I didn’t mind; it was good to watch him hanging with the guys. He fell right in, laughing and joking as if he’d always known those men.
As I chatted with Sheridan and Asia and the other women at the reception, D’Angelo and the guys stood off to the other side. Every few seconds I tried to peek at him. And every time I peeked, I caught him looking at me.
I did my best to keep my attention on Sheridan, Asia, and the other ladies. It was difficult, though, because all I wanted to do was sit and talk to D’Angelo. But I put in my time, and as I chatted, and laughed, and just hung out, I was amazed that I felt . . . normal. It was nice.
It was just after nine when Christopher and Evon asked for the guests’ attention. And then from the center of the gazebo, they spoke.
“This was quite a surprise,” Christopher said as he held Evon’s hand. “And I want to thank my mother and my stepdad for putting it together. This was more special than anything we had planned and we love you.” Beside him, Evon nodded, the guests cheered, Sheridan and Brock stood and gave them hugs, and D’Angelo once again wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
Christopher continued, “It’s been a long day, so we’re gonna get out of here, but thank you all for coming.”
I stood stiffly as Christopher and Evon made their way through their guests thanking each person individually. Once t
hey walked out the door, it seemed like everyone else wanted to follow.
“So, pretty lady,” D’Angelo whispered in my ear, “can I give you a ride home?”
“I have my car and”—I held up my hand—“I don’t want it towed.”
We laughed together.
“So, how’re you going to spend more time with me if we’re not in the car together?” He sighed. “We always seem to have that problem.”
I shrugged. “We’ll just have to make another date.” Then I spoke quickly to fix what I’d said. “I mean, not a date, a get-together.” I looked up at him. “You know what I mean.”
He took a step closer and nodded. “I do. Well, let me tell you what I’d like to do.” He paused. “I’d like to see your place. I haven’t seen what you’ve done to it since you moved in.”
“Since I wouldn’t have it without you, you can come by anytime. Just let me know.”
“I’m letting you know now. I’d like to come by tonight.”
“Tonight?” I said as if I didn’t recognize that word.
“Yeah, tonight. Do you have other plans?”
“No.” I shook my head, trying to give myself time to come up with some excuse. “I’m just going home, going to bed.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” He chuckled like he was kidding, but I just wasn’t sure.
“You know I was just kidding, right?” D’Angelo said.
“Yeah, I know that,” I said, and kinda laughed.
He said, “Seriously, though, I’d like to drop by for a quick minute and take a look at your place. And if you feel like it, then we can talk. We never get a chance to do that.”
“What do you call what we’ve been doing all night? Whenever we get together, we talk.”
“I’m talking about one-on-one, face-to-face with no one else around. Just you and me. By ourselves.”
“I don’t see how that would make a difference.”
“Are you afraid?” he asked, with a chuckle in his tone.
“Of what?”
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