At the entrance, Alexis dug in her purse for the valet ticket, and when she found it, Brian took it from her. She frowned a little when he pulled the attendant aside and whispered to him. The man glanced at Alexis and nodded before Brian returned to her side.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
He said, “I’m going to drive you home,” just as his Lamborghini came to a stop in front of them.
She was already shaking her head. “I can drive.” She closed her eyes, licked her lips, tried to get the fuzziness behind her eyelids to go away.
But he acted like she hadn’t spoken when he took her arm and led her around to the passenger’s side. It was hard to put up a fight when it took so much effort to walk.
Inside, she sank into soft leather and thought, This is embarrassing, as Brian trotted to the other side.
Getting drunk at Heroes was becoming too much of a habit. This had happened before—a couple of years ago when she’d had dinner with Jasmine’s husband. She’d had too much wine then, too; that night she had been building courage to sleep with Jasmine’s husband. But what did she need courage for tonight?
Brian shifted into drive. “We’ll pick up your car tomorrow.”
There was that tomorrow word again. But she wasn’t going to argue. She’d let him take her home, then she’d catch a cab in the morning. And after that, she was never going to have another glass of wine. Ever.
As Brian twisted the car through the streets, Alexis wondered what had happened to their words? They’d had so many before, but now there was total silence between them. Only the low, soft bedroom voice of the radio DJ streamed through the car.
“Back to the Quiet Storm,” he crooned. “We’re going to continue with our celebration of the best love songs. Here’s Mr. Luther Vandross.”
Foul!
Anything by Luther wasn’t good right now. Especially not this song. When Alexis heard the first three chords of “Here and Now,” she wondered if Brian was going to change the station. When he didn’t, she wondered if she should, because surely they didn’t need to be listening to this.
But Brian just stared ahead, focused on the road and totally unfazed by the music. So she did the only thing she could—she settled back, closed her eyes, snuggled into the soft seat, and pretended that she wasn’t in a car with her ex-husband listening to the song that had played at their wedding—their first dance.
Then Luther passed the baton to Kem. And Kem to Robin Thicke.
Four more songs played before Alexis felt the car slow to a stop, and then there was just the gentle purr of the car’s engine before it shut off completely.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. “Thank—” she began to say. But Brian was already out, on his way to opening her door.
The cool air and the lover’s concert that had played in the car had sobered her.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said, when he took her hand and helped her from the low seat. Then she wondered, what was the proper good-night etiquette with an ex? Did you shake hands? Give a peck on the cheek? Or do one of those Sunday church hugs where you made sure your pelvis was two feet away from his?
Since she wasn’t sure, she just turned toward her home. But she could hear Brian’s footsteps on the asphalt behind her, following.
As she inserted her key, he stood so close that his heat negated the cool of the November night. She pushed her door open, then turned around. “Well . . .” she said, hoping that was enough of a good-bye.
“Well,” he repeated. “Can I come in?”
She sighed, shook her head.
“Come on, I’ve never seen your place.” He held up his hands. “Just a little tour. Quick in and out.”
She had so many reasons to tell him no, but instead she said yes, then led him through the two-thousand-square-foot, two-level, two-bedroom town home as if she was just his tour guide.
“This is nice,” Brian said after he trotted down the steps behind her. He sat on the couch and unbuttoned his jacket. “It’s strange that I’ve never been here before.”
“What’s strange about that?” she asked, still standing. She looked down at him sitting on her couch. Didn’t he remember his promise—a quick in and out?
“’Cause we were . . .” He pointed back and forth between them. “We are friends, right?”
Now she sat on the other end of her eight-foot-long sofa. As far away from him as she could get. “Yeah, but not the kind who get together like this.”
He spread his arms wide along the back of the couch, seemingly so comfortable in her space. He did that thing with his eyes again . . . looked right through her. Made her twist and turn and try to get away from his gaze.
“Well, after tonight,” he said, leaning toward her, “I hope you’ll invite me over again.”
She leaned deeper into the cushions, giving herself more space since he’d moved closer.
He asked, “Aren’t you going to offer a friend a drink?”
What she wanted to do was pull him up and push him out the door. Tell him good night and good luck. But she stood and strolled, as if having him here—with his heat and his lips and his eyes—was no big deal.
His brows rose when she handed him a bottle. “Just water?” She shrugged, and he said, “I was hoping for something a little more . . . adult.”
“Well, water is all I got. So if you want anything else, you need to do what Jesus did when they gave Him water.”
Brian laughed as he took a swig.
Still standing, she spread her arms wide and yawned. “Oh, my goodness.” She put her hand over her mouth. “Excuse me. I guess I’m just tired.”
Her hint hit its target.
Brian said, “I guess I need to get going.” Then, suddenly somber, he added, “Thank you, Alex, really, for celebrating with me tonight.”
His tone made her stop pretending. Made her sidle onto the couch next to him.
He continued, “It meant a lot that you were there.” He paused, as if he’d gone deep into his own thoughts, memories. “You were with me from the beginning,” he said softly. “And now you’re here . . . at the end.” A pause before, “I know I hurt you, and I’ll never be able to tell you how—”
She held up her hand. “You’ve said sorry so many times, Brian, and I really do believe you.” His eyes were filled with doubt, so she added, “I forgave you a long time ago.”
He held her gaze for a moment longer before he said, “I never wanted a divorce.”
She kept her lips pressed together, not knowing what to say. His words weren’t new; she’d forced him into the divorce. But after what he’d taken her through, his wants didn’t matter.
He placed the water bottle on the table, then stood, buttoned his coat, and moved toward the door before she had the chance to blink. But the confident swagger that he’d come in with was gone. He faced her with glassy eyes, as if tears weren’t far away but would never come because he was such a man.
It was his eyes that made her arms move before her brain did, and she held him in an embrace. She held him the way she used to, when he would stagger home exhausted, filled with stress from his important work.
The longest minute passed before he pulled away. “Thank you,” he whispered.
She was looking down when she nodded, but when she raised her head, his lips were right there. Again. So close.
Then time. Took over.
Before Alexis had another thought, his lips were pressed against hers. Or maybe her lips were against his—Alexis wasn’t sure. Not that it mattered—they were connected. By their lips only.
She wanted to scream, Foul! But she didn’t. Because if she screamed, he would stop. And she didn’t want this to end, not yet. She just needed a couple more moments. Then it would be enough. Then it would be over.
But then it was more than just his lips. When his arms wrapped around her, she didn’t resist. When he pressed in closer, she didn’t push him away. When she felt his desire, she showed him hers.
With a deep moan, he swept her up off her feet, and into his arms. And she did nothing to defend herself. Just wrapped her arms around what was familiar and let him lead as their tongues danced. For a second, she took her mind from their kiss and wondered if he’d be able to carry her through her home, without stumbling and bringing this moment to an end and bringing them to their senses.
But it was as if he knew that precision was vital. He stepped through the living room and to the stairs as if he’d been here before tonight. At the top of the landing, Alexis counted the steps in her head—one, two, three, four, five—and they were right outside her bedroom. He turned; he knew.
He never broke their embrace as he laid her on her bed and stretched out on top of her. Now their bodies danced—a horizontal waltz. Their moans were their music. She was the melody. He was the harmony.
Finally, he tore his lips away from hers. Directed his tongue to her neck, where his kisses made her moan more. She groaned when he ripped her blouse away, buttons scattering across the room.
She did the same to his shirt, his pants, his boxers until she felt nothing but his flesh. Her flesh.
Then the two became one.
After three years.
It was done.
Twenty-four
ALEXIS COULD HEAR IT AS much as she could feel it.
The pounding of her heart. Still.
She lay on top of Brian, amazed at their rhythm. Each breath they took—in and out—they took together.
Just like it used to be.
That was exactly why Alexis rolled over. But Brian didn’t let her get away. He held her and pressed against her—his front to her back. A spoon made of skin.
And they sighed, together.
She had wanted this, had yearned to have him. And at the same time she was sickened by the thought of being this close to him.
It was the memory of their last time that made her almost physically ill. It was while they were in bed, with Brian’s hands and lips all over her, that she had known she had to get a divorce. Because of his affair with Jasmine. On that last night, Jasmine had been right there in the bed with them.
Of course the feel of Jasmine, the smell of Jasmine, the voice of Jasmine had been only in her mind that night. But it was real enough to make her jump from their bed and walk away. Never turning back and promising never to give her heart to a man again.
So what am I doing here?
Then . . . the sound. She frowned. Was he snoring?
She shot up in the bed, turned on the light. And nudged him until his eyes were wide.
“Huh!” Brian’s face was scrunched with confusion as he glanced around. Then his memory came back, and he opened his arms, reaching for her.
Alexis tugged at the sheet and wrapped the sateen around her nakedness. “You have to leave,” she demanded.
He frowned.
She jumped from the bed, leaving Brian exposed. But he didn’t seem to mind. With his eyes boring into her, he stretched as if he wanted to give her more of himself to see.
She sighed and remembered when she’d called all of that hers. She had to look away. “You need to get up. You need to go.”
“No, that’s all right. I’ll just go home in the morning.”
“No!” She shook her head wildly. “I want you to go home now.”
He laughed. “Are you kidding?” When he saw that she wasn’t laughing, he rolled to his side. “What’s wrong?”
“I want you to leave.”
He paused for a moment. “There’s nothing wrong with what happened here, Alexis,” he said, with the patience of an adult explaining a situation to a child. “I love you. We’ve waited a long time . . . for each other.”
That declaration made no difference, and she repeated her request for him to go.
He stayed quiet, even though his eyes were still on her. The way his brows bunched together, then relaxed, then bunched together again—Alexis could tell that he was thinking, measuring, deciding. After a while, he rolled to the other side of the bed.
When he pushed himself up, she tried not to stare at the muscles that kept his back broad and his behind taut.
“I’ll be . . . downstairs.” She rushed past him, into the hall. It wasn’t until she was in the middle of the living room that she remembered she was swathed only in a sheet. But this would have to do; she wasn’t going back up there.
She waited. She paced. She thought.
How had this happened?
Before she had formed the question completely in her mind, she knew the answer. She had let it happen, had wanted it to happen. This had been building from the moment they first separated.
Well, she’d had her taste, and it had been enough. It wouldn’t happen again.
Behind her, she heard his soft steps on the stairs, and when she turned, she inhaled. That was the thing about her ex—he looked as good with his clothes on as he did with them off.
She shuddered and prayed for strength as he strutted toward her.
He didn’t stop moving until there wasn’t more than an inch of air between them. When he leaned forward, she held her breath, then exhaled when his lips landed only on her forehead.
His eyes shined when he stepped away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No.” She shook her head. “There’s no need for all of that.”
“I know I don’t need to.” She opened her mouth to protest more, but the tips of his fingers pressed against her lips, silenced her. “Just go with it, sweetheart. I told you the day I agreed to the divorce that I would be back.”
“You’re not—”
This time it was his lips that kept her quiet. And took her breath away, too.
He opened the door, and the cool air swept inside. But he didn’t look back as he rushed to his car.
It was only the wind and her pride that kept Alexis from standing there, watching him. She closed the door but stayed in place until she heard his engine fire up. Then, still wrapped in nothing but the sheet, she ran up the stairs two steps at a time.
Inside her bedroom, the evidence was right before her—the comforter was balled up on the floor, the pillows were tossed to the side, the sheets were undone.
But she ignored all of that as she scurried across the room and grabbed the telephone. She glanced at the clock as she dialed. Just a bit after midnight. She made calls this late only when it was an emergency.
This certainly was an emergency.
And it was a Friday. Maybe that would help.
Even so, Jefferson’s voice was filled with sleep when he answered.
She said, “Sorry to be calling so late, Jefferson—”
“Alex, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just needed to speak to Kyla. Is she asleep?”
Even though she could tell that he’d cupped his hand over the phone, she could still hear him whispering. And then her best friend (who sounded much more alert) came onto the phone. “What’s up, girl?”
“I have to tell you something,” she began, wondering why she sounded so giddy, “but you can’t tell Jefferson.”
“Hold on.” Long seconds later, Kyla was back. “Okay, I’m in the den. What’s up?”
“I don’t know how it happened,” Alexis said, getting right to the point, “but . . . I slept with Brian.”
“Oh, my goodness! You didn’t!”
“Ssshhh,” Alexis said, trying to quiet her friend. “Remember, I don’t want Jefferson to know.”
“Why not? There’s nothing wrong with what you did.”
“What? I thought you’d be the first one quoting scriptures about how I shouldn’t be fornicating and you’d rush right over to soak me in some holy oil.”
“First of all, quoting scriptures is your thing. And second, it’s not fornicating if you’re sleeping with your husband.”
“Ex-husband.”
“Your soon-to-be next husband.” Kyla laughed.
She didn’t want to, but Alexis smiled. “You’re crazy. I called you
to—” She stopped.
“To what? To get me to say that you shouldn’t have done it?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what a Sister in Christ is supposed to do?”
“I’m supposed to tell you the truth, and the truth is that this is a good thing. Just go with it, Alex. Don’t think. Just see where this takes you.”
“I don’t want to be taken anywhere. This was a mistake, and I just needed to talk to my best friend about it.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s never going to happen again.”
“Never say never.”
“That’s all you have for me? Some tired cliché?”
“Tell the truth, shame the devil.”
“Okay, now see, you’re getting on my nerves.”
Kyla laughed. “And you’re getting on my nerves acting all silly.”
“I wouldn’t call having my heart broken being silly.” Alexis pouted.
The change in Kyla’s tone was instant. “I know, sweetie, but all I’m sayin’ is that that’s behind you.”
“It may be, but I’ll never give my heart a chance to hurt like that again.”
There was a pause before Kyla spoke, softer this time. “Don’t close the door, Alex. Especially not if God wants it open.”
As soon as Kyla brought up God, Alexis said a quick good night. She didn’t agree with Kyla, but she did feel better. Talking it out had helped, and now she could say with conviction that it would never happen again.
She’d just needed this one time; now Brian Lewis was completely out of her system.
Thank God for that.
Twenty-five
MY VIBE IS RIGHT!
That was his thought as Brian rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was Saturday, so it wasn’t like he had to be up. But he just couldn’t sleep.
He turned onto his back, clasped his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling, just as he’d been doing since he’d slipped into bed way past midnight. But last night, it wasn’t restless, regret-filled thoughts that had kept him awake. Last night, he couldn’t rein in his exhilaration. The memories of being with Alexis were still so fresh, he could reach out and touch them. He could still see her, smell her, taste her, as if it had all happened just a minute ago.
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