Chapter Twenty

 

Kimba

 

 

“So this might be bold,” Barry says, “but could I have your number? Maybe we could get together while you’re in town?”

I should.

For one, I haven’t had sex in a very long time, and I’m tired of doing all the heavy lifting to keep myself satisfied. Also, if I do decide to have a baby in the next year and a half, I haven’t exactly been out there fostering relationships. I’m infamous for the no-strings, hot-and-dirty package. Last but not least, why not? I’m here a few weeks and some companionship wouldn’t be awful. He does have that really lean biker body that I’m afraid if I straddle, I might break, but he’s attractive in a very kale greens kind of way. He’s smart and funny. Seems kind. Focusing on a date with an available man makes more sense than fixating on someone who is taken and has a family. It doesn’t matter that I felt more alive, more seen talking with Ezra than I have in years. I can’t let it matter. I need to do the right thing, and avoiding time alone with Ezra is the right thing.

“Kimba?” Barry frowns, his voice uncertain. I’ve left him hanging.

“Oh, sure. Sorry.” I fish my phone from the pocket of my skirt and we exchange numbers.

“I gotta go.” He grins. “But I’ll call you this week.”

“Great,” I force myself to reply with a smile.

He isn’t gone for two seconds before Mona takes his place by my side, grinning hard. “Did I see you and Barry with phones out?”

“You’re worse than Facebook. I just clicked on him, and you’re already flooding my timeline with ads for wedding dresses.”

“I know. I know.” She giggles and pulls her locs back from her face, knotting them at the crown of her head. “I’m just excited to see you connecting with someone.” Her smile falters and she licks her lips. “Someone available, I mean.”

“All right. Now you’re vague-booking me.” I give her a wry look. “You weren’t this passive-aggressive in eighth grade. Say what you have to say, Janet.”

She glances around the living room where some people are still talking, but most are packing up and making their way to the door. She tips her head to the kitchen. “Come help me for a sec.”

We walk into the kitchen, which is miraculously empty. She starts putting away covered dishes.

“I know you and Ezra used to have a very special friendship,” she says after a few moments. She leans against the counter and gives me a level look. “But you have to be careful.”

“Careful?” I ask, propping my hip on her island. “How so?”

“You know how so, Kimba. Ezra grew up to be pretty impressive.”

He always impressed me.

“I mean,” she continues, “fine as hell now, obviously. Tall, handsome. The whole thing, and smart as all get-out. And he has a huge heart. Lots of people at school get caught up in how kind he is to them, and I tell them what I’m about to tell you.”

“Which is?”

“He’s not available,” she says flatly, firmly. “Aiko is my friend, and I know they love each other very much. They have a son together. Please be careful. You don’t want to destroy that.”

“It’s been a long time since you and I knew each other, Mona, but I assure you, I didn’t grow up to be a homewrecker.”

“I know,” she says, her eyes wide. “But he has a wife—”

“They’re not married.” I have no idea what prompted me to say that, but I instantly know I shouldn’t have.

Mona’s expression hardens, her glace sharpens. “They may as well be. They’ve been together nearly a decade. Noah’s the center of Ezra’s world. You shouldn’t jeopardize that and you for damn sure should not be holding his hand.”

She’s right. You rarely see a car wreck coming. It happens suddenly, unexpectedly, before you can avoid it.

She’s telling me if I continue down this road, I’ll crash. She’s telling me to slow down. To pull off to the shoulder and let the storm pass.

I could lie to myself and pretend it’s just me, that I’m the only one wrestling with this temptation, but that’s a lie. Ezra has been watching me all night. I feel his eyes on me every time he’s near, and I just want to look back. If I’m not careful, I’ll set us on a collision course that could ruin everything.

I’m here for a few weeks and then onto the next mayor, governor, congressman. I could destroy his relationship, damage his family and be back on the campaign trail, leaving him to deal with the fallout.

“Kimba!” Noah bounds into the kitchen. There’s a small stain on his T-shirt that looks suspiciously like banana pudding. “You’re still here. I thought you’d already left.”

Ezra enters behind him. He leans against the counter and pulls out his phone, fixing his attention there instead of on what’s happening in here. Instead of on me.

“I’m still here,” I say, unable to stop the smile that plays on my lips when this kid is around.

“Good,” Noah says. “I wanted to invite you to my birthday party on Sunday.”

Ezra’s head swings around and I feel his eyes on my profile. I also sense Mona holding her breath, willing me not to accept.

“Oh, Noah. Happy birthday,” I say. “Thank you for inviting me. That’s so sweet.”

“Will you come?” Noah presses his palms together, pleading dramatically. “I’ll be nine. You’re only nine once.”

Mona and I laugh. The unyielding line of Ezra’s full lips pulls into a smile. His eyes soften on his son.

“I don’t know, Noah.” I lick my lips and push my hair back. “I—”

“My mom’s not here,” he says, lowering his head, his smile disappearing. “She’s on safari, but at least I could have all my friends around. That might make up for it some.”

This kid’s good.

I glance at Mona’s neutral expression, which somehow still manages to appear disapproving. I look over at Ezra, and his eyes are that near-violet color that deepens with his most intense emotions. I feel him willing me to accept.

“Please.” Noah looks up at me, his eyes identical to his father’s.

“Okay. I’ll come.”

Noah breaks out into some dance that causes him to wobble his legs and point his fingers in the air. I’m sure I’ve seen it when football players make touchdowns. I can’t help but laugh, as do Mona and Ezra.

“You know you just got played, right?” Ezra asks, but his smile is pleased.

“I’m aware, yeah.”

Our eyes hold despite Mona’s watchful stare. Did I get played, or did I get exactly what I wanted?