by Kennedy Ryan
“Daddy wouldn’t cheat ever,” I snap.
“You would comment on the way she looks.” Kayla sits back in her seat and folds her arms across her chest. “Typical.”
“Ruth is a good woman and was once one of my best friends,” Mama says, her voice low but sharp. “Keep her name out of your mouth, Keith.”
A heavy silence follows her words, and my siblings and I exchange a meaningful look.
“Mama,” I say, my voice careful. “Can you think of why someone would start a rumor like this and if there might be some granule of…?” I look to Kayla for help.
“Truth,” Kayla finishes. “If there might be something that did happen that someone is twisting into a lie?”
“Your father never cheated on me,” Mama says, standing. “Not one day. I know it, and I’ll make sure the world knows that, too, if this trash makes it to publication.”
“It won’t,” I vow. “We’ll get it straightened out before that happens.”
She nods and walks out.
“Keith.” I kick him under the table and find some small satisfaction in his tiny yelp. “You’re the family lawyer. I have a call scheduled with the publisher first thing tomorrow morning. I need you to put the fear of God in them that if they publish this crap they’ll have a slander trial on their hands that will bankrupt them.”
“Will do.” He stands and grabs one of the delicious croissants Esmerelda put out for breakfast. “But I have to get home. Delaney will kill me if I miss Sunday dinner.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “And, Keith?”
“Yeah?” He turns at the door, handsome and looking more like Daddy every day.
“After we deal with the publisher, let’s talk about your campaign.”
“All riiiight.” He drags the word out like he’s giving me time to change my mind about helping him.
“You have a lot to do if you want to run.”
He flashes a smile, gives me a salute and heads out the door.
“That was nice of you,” Kayla murmurs, standing and gathering the Hermès bag her husband gifted her after baby number five.
“I am nice.”
“You don’t get as far as you’ve gotten in politics being nice. Also, in case I didn’t mention it, you did a great job last night. Your nieces and nephew loved seeing you on TV.”
“Well, thanks for making sure my hair looked great.” I laugh, pulling out my phone to check my email.
“Anything would have been an improvement on that just got fucked hair you were sporting when Lorette got ahold of you.”
“You ain’t slick,” I say, not lifting my gaze from the phone screen. “No comment. I’m not talking to you about it.”
“So you are sleeping with Ezra Stern?”
“Zee.” I spare her a look long enough for her to know I’m serious. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And what’s up with that common-law wife of his?”
“She’s…they’re not married.” I give up, setting my phone on the table. “Since you’re not taking no for an answer, like you never do, what do you want to know?”
“I already asked you what I want to know. Number one. Are you fucking him? And number two, what about the woman he lives and has a child with?”
“Number one, yes,” I say defiantly. “I’m fucking the hell out of him. And number two, she let him go and she doesn’t get him back. Satisfied?”
Kayla’s lips twitch. “I think the question is are you satisfied? He putting it down?”
Flashes of Ezra pounding into me against the front door have me shifting in my seat, suppressing whimpers.
“I’m satisfied,” I understate.
“Then let’s head this fiasco with his mom off at the pass so you can focus on staying satisfied.” She smiles and gives me a rare squeeze. “And happy. I’d like to see you happy.”
I think about all the things I have to wade through before I can get to happy. This biography. The situation with Aiko. My damn ovaries.
I want to be your last.
The memory of Ezra’s words soften all the tense, tight parts of me. The road to happy looks long and rough right now, but he makes me want to try.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ezra
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“Ezra, hi. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Did you get my message last night?”
“Message? Where’d you leave it?”
“On the home phone. Your cell voicemail is full.”
“Oh, you know I never check either of those, honey.”
“That might explain why it’s full. My message said we need to speak urgently.”
“Is everything okay with Noah?” Concern spikes her voice an octave. “I checked in on him yesterday and—”
“The point of Noah gaining more independence at camp is to not check on him every day, Mom. I hope you haven’t been long-distance smothering.”
Because I’ve experienced that firsthand.
“Me? Smother? Of course not. He did happen to mention on one of our few calls that you don’t have any mezuzahs in the house.”
This turn of conversation has nothing to do with why I called or anything I’ve even considered. Ever. “Mezuzahs?”
“You grew up with them in our house, Ezra.”
“Of course I did, but—”
“And yet when I asked Noah if he had one hanging on his door, he said no.”
“Mom, how about you bring some with you when you bring Noah back and hang them on any door you see fit. Sound good?”
“Well, it’s your house, of course. It’s up to you.”
Is extreme patience a sport?
“Can we get back to the reason I called? It’s important.”
“Oh, yes. Sorry. What do you need?”
“The truth.”
“Ezra, don’t be mysterious. The truth about what?”
“Did you have an affair with Joseph Allen?”
Shock reverberates in the silence that falls between us over the miles.
“Because that’s what some biographer has written in a book that’s publishing soon. Is it true?”
“It absolutely is not true,” she replies, her voice curt.
“So you deny it?”
“Do I deny having an affair of any kind with Joseph Allen? I unequivocally do.”
“Then what happened between the four of you the night of that argument?”
“That is none of your business. You are my only son, and I’ve sacrificed a lot for you. I’ve done all I could to ease your way in this world, as any mother should, but I do have a private life, and you have no right to it.”
“Mom—”
“You asked for the truth and I gave it to you. It’s a lie. When is the book coming out?”
“If Kimba gets her way, which she often does, it won’t come out at all, but it has been written and it’s due to publish soon.”
“Well, she has to stop it,” Mom says, anxiety tightening her words. “They’ll ruin that man’s reputation. And, oh God. Poor Janetta.”
“Are you worried she’ll believe it?”
There’s a long pause from the other end before my mother answers. “No. If anyone knows that’s a lie, it’s Janetta.”
“You two used to be so close, but after that night, everything changed.”
“People change.” There’s a shrug in her voice, but I don’t buy it. “We moved away and made new friends, new neighbors. Life goes on.”
“Are you telling me that what happened that night has nothing to do with this rumor? If there’s anything you can share that will clear your names, you have to tell me.”
“I’ve told you what you need to know, what you asked me. No, I didn’t have an affair with Kimba’s father.”
“Okay. Then we’ll figure out how to make this go away.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kimba
“This is actually pretty good,” Keith says, flipping through the manuscript Pie
rs managed to procure so we’d have it first thing Monday morning.
“Stoke!” Kayla slaps her copy onto Mama’s dining room table. “It’s a lie.”
“I don’t mean the part about Daddy having an affair with Mrs. Stern,” Keith says. “But they got all the other stuff about his life right. His work in civil rights, all he’s done for the city, his record as a prosecutor in those early days right out of Emory. It’s well written and makes him look great.”
“You mean except for the whole cheating-on-his-wife part?” I ask, tossing my copy onto the table alongside Kayla’s. “Yeah, well if I put a drop of ink in a glass of water, will you still drink it?”
“Depends on how thirsty I am.” He laughs. “And based on our conversation with the publisher, they’re pretty thirsty.”
“He did sound like he will take this all the way,” I mutter, biting the inside of my cheek. “We need to find out who this biographer’s source is for the affair. He doesn’t make it clear in the text.”
“It’s such a small part of the book overall,” Kayla adds. “If they’d just remove that one lie, I’d be fine with it.”
“They’re counting on that lie to sell a lot of books,” I say.
“We can’t let that happen,” Mama says from the door, her copy tucked under her arm. She decided to read hers upstairs in her bedroom while my siblings and I have camped out downstairs all day reading it over wine and snacks from the pantry.
“It’s a lie,” she continues. “Joseph was never unfaithful, and for them to tarnish his reputation, his legacy this way…they can’t.”
“We won’t let them,” I promise, even though my back’s against the wall and I’m not sure how to stop them without drawing it out into a long court battle, and probably sensationalizing it even more.
“I’ll keep working the legal angle,” Keith says, standing and stretching. “Well, it’s been real, fam, but I’ve given my whole day to this. Didn’t make it to the office, but I gotta make it home.”
“Same.” Kayla stands. “My kids are on their way home from camp. I need to go get dinner ready.”
Kayla looks down at her phone when it buzzes. “Ugh. What’d I tell you? My kids. It’ll take me forever to get rid of them all. I want an empty nest so bad.”
“And you’ll be an emotional wreck when they leave. Believe me,” Mama says, laughing. “Send them over here next weekend. You and Lawrence get some time to yourselves.”
Kayla’s usually haughty expression softens, and she kisses Mama’s cheek. “I’m gonna take you up on it and leave before you change your mind.” She heads for the door and waves over her shoulder.
“I’m out, too,” Keith says. He bends to drop a kiss on Mama’s head and then mine. Mama walks him to the door and I hear my phone ringing in the distance. I race upstairs where it was charging.
Ezra.
“Hey,” I say.
“You said you’d answer your phone.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Phone died. Did you talk to your mom?”
“Yeah. She denies it.”
“Well, of course she does,” I say easily enough despite the deep relief that pours through me. “It’s not true.”
“Do you have any more to do there?”
“No. I’ve done all I can do for today, I think. We’ll start again tomorrow.”
“Come spend the night,” he says, sending shivers along my skin.
“With you?” I ask teasingly.
“That was the idea, yes,” he says, a smile evident in his voice.
“Could we…?” I hesitate, not sure I want to bring this up now. “I don’t want to stay at your house tonight.”
“Noah’s not due back yet. We—”
“It’s Aiko’s house, Ez. Her photos, her slippers and robe and clothes and Mommy mug. She’s everywhere, and I would like a night with you where every time I turn around I’m not confronted by your life with her.”
“I’m sorry, Tru,” he says after a loaded pause. “I should have realized that, but a hotel feels…seedy. I understand discretion, but I don’t want you to feel in any way that we’re sneaking around or doing something wrong.”
“I don’t feel that way, but we don’t have to go to a hotel. I know just the place.”
Chapter Forty
Ezra
“I didn’t get to come here when we were growing up,” I tell Kimba. “It’s beautiful.”
Lake Lanier’s surface shines like volcanic glass under the moonlight, black and bright.
“My grandfather bought the lake house right before you guys moved.” She sets down a plate of cold cuts and the fresh-baked bread we bought on our way here. “Things picked up significantly for Daddy—not just the money he was making, but all the work he was doing. It became a good place for us to get away from the city.”
The Allens’ lake house is modest, but comfortable. Its best feature is the private dock that leads to the lake. We’re having dinner under a small covered structure set at the end of the dock.
“The glamorous life, huh?” Kimba jokes, proffering a sandwich. “I really go all out for my man.”
I grab her by the waist and pull her onto my lap, inhaling the unique mix of lemons and cocoa, which shouldn’t work, but is intoxicating on her skin.
“Say that last part again,” I say into the cove behind her ear.
She turns to me, kisses my jaw. “Which part, baby?”
I make a note that I also want her to call me baby later. “Don’t tease me, Tru. You know. Say it again.”
“My man.” She hooks her arms behind my neck. “You like hearing that you’re my man, Ezra?”
“Very much.” I cup her breast, brushing a thumb over her nipple and smiling against her throat when her breath hitches. “Your man is hungry.”
“So is your woman,” she says, slanting her mouth over mine, kissing me possessively with ardor that matches mine.
“Are you gonna feed me, or what?” I mumble into the kiss as it slows. She smiles against my lips and turns back to the table to grab the sandwich, offering it to me for a bite. I tighten my hands at her waist and pull her closer to my chest.
“Today was exhausting,” she says, biting our sandwich and offering it to me again. “That book has taken over our lives.”
“You guys read it?” I sip from the glass of wine she brings to my lips.
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s actually really good, dammit. Gripping and makes Daddy look like a giant, besides accusing him of philandering with your mother, of course.”
“I wonder if taking that approach might work better. Meaning, you see all that’s great about the book. Negotiate with the publisher that if the author removes that one aspect, the Allen family will help promote it.”
“Hmmm.” Her dark brows knit and she nods. “That could work, but I still want to disprove that lie about Daddy. It’s too incendiary. Poses too much of a threat to his memory, to his legacy and what he means to this city. I need to speak to the author, find out the source and prove it false.”
“If anyone can do it, you can.” I open my mouth and look at her expectantly. “Food, please.”
She chuckles, leans in and offers me another bite. We eat one sandwich together, exchanging bites and kisses, alternating with sips of wine from one glass. In this moment by the water in moonlight, we share everything.
“I’m sick of talking about this damn book,” she grumbles when we’re done eating. “Have you heard from Noah?”
“Briefly.” I gather our plates and trash and toss them into a bag. “He’s fine. Wondering if he can stay an extra week.”
“Will you let him?”
“No.” I chuckle and take her hand as we walk up the dock and back toward the little house. “I miss him too much.”
Her rich laughter rolls out over the lake and she lifts my knuckle for a kiss. “You’re such an incredible father.”
“Thank you. I love kids,” I say, opening the door and letting her into the house ahead of me.
“I wish I had more.”
Her first step into the living room falters for just a second and her smile slips. I hear what I just said. Shit. Does she think I’m saying I wish Aiko and I had more kids? Or that I’m imposing any expectations on her?
I follow her into the bedroom. “Kimba, I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’ve poured your whole heart into YLA, and I saw you with the kids at Noah’s party. It’s apparent how much they love you and why. You’re just as much a dad to some of them as you are to Noah.”
I’m quiet for a moment, thinking of all the kids in our school who don’t have dads, who come to me for advice, look to me for guidance.
“I did want more.” I sit beside her, take her hand, and the soft mattress gives beneath my additional weight. “We didn’t intend to get pregnant with Noah. Hell, it was the worst timing. I was a poor doctoral student barely able to take care of myself, but later, after Aiko and I had been together for years and things stabilized, I wanted another baby.”
“And?” she asks, her voice quiet, yet alert with something I’m not sure of yet.
“And Ko didn’t. She’d sacrificed a lot. Delayed some opportunities when she had Noah, moved to Atlanta because I wanted to set the school up here. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel pressure.”
“How’d that make you feel?” Kimba asks.
“I didn’t resent it at all.”
Kimba breathes out a little laugh, looks down at our hands in her lap. “In some ways I envy her.”
“No.” I angle until I can see her face, look into her eyes. “You have nothing to be jealous of. You know that, right?”
“She had all those years with you. She’s had a life with you.” She dips her chin to her chest. “A child with you. I wouldn’t trade the path I’ve chosen for anyone else’s. I love the choices I’ve made. I stand by them, but choosing one thing often means not choosing something else. I look at my sister. She complains, but her kids are the joy of her life.”
“I’m sure you had offers,” I force myself to say, not wanting to hear about the men she could have had and kept. I’m just glad she didn’t tie herself permanently to any of them so I can have her now.