“Happy holidays, Ms. Ansah!”
Samira gave her assistant, Assi, a hard glare as she passed her office on the way to her own. She fought the urge to mutter, “Bah humbug”—but just barely. She paused in the doorway at the sight of a large poinsettia on the corner of her desk.
Assi ran into the back of her, and Samira glanced back at her over her shoulder.
“Sorry,” the woman said with a slight wince.
Samira continued into her office and picked up the plant to hand back to Assi. “Have you confirmed the travel plans with my mother?” she asked, removing the sleek caramel-colored camel-hair coat she wore over a formfitting leather dress in the same shade.
“The car will pick you, your mother and Mr. Roje—”
“Just Roje,” Samira said, removing her computer glasses from the ostrich-leather eyewear case to slip on before she logged on to her computer. “Actually, I don’t know his last name. I guess I should find out, since they’re to be wed in three months.”
“Okay,” Assi said. “Your driver will be downstairs at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Your luggage has already been shipped ahead and arrived at Mr. and Mrs. Ansah’s chalet in the Swiss Alps.”
Samira nodded, wishing she didn’t dread the annual family holiday trip. Lance had forever changed Christmas for her—and not for the better. She allowed herself to think of him and took great comfort in the pain of hurt and disappointment being less sharp than it had been when her thirty-day deadline came and went two months ago.
Work had become her new lover.
“I uploaded the video interview with Ms. Burns this morning,” Assi said.
Samira found her first smile of the day. “Thank you, Assi,” she said.
Her conversation with Ursula Burns, the first African American woman to be CEO of a Fortune 500 company, was just the debut she needed for her new blog/initiative to encourage young African American girls to aspire to join the growing ranks of powerful black women in corporate America. She planned such conversations once a month, and next on her list was Alessandra.
The formation of her nonprofit offering scholarships to women of color looking to acquire their MBAs was receiving a lot of press. That was a bright spot in the last few months.
I just knew he was coming back to me.
“Coffee or tea, Ms. Ansah?”
And I was wrong.
“Ms. Ansah?”
Samira blinked and looked up at Assi, pushing away a memory of crying until her eyes were puffy because of her heartbreak. “Yes?” she asked.
“Would you like coffee or tea this morning?” Assi asked again.
“Hot chocolate, actually,” she said.
“Right away.”
As Assi departed the office with the Christmas plant in hand, Samira thought of the last time Lance made her the same drink. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“I’m giving myself thirty days to get over you. I’m giving you the same thirty days to get your shit together or leave me alone for good.”
“Knock-knock.”
Samira looked up at Alessandra, striding into her office looking beautiful in a bright orange silk blouse paired with a matching leather pencil skirt. “Good morning, sis,” Samira said, removing her spectacles.
Alessandra claimed one of the seats in front of her, lightly tapping a rolled-up magazine she held against the edge of the desk. “I watched the interview you did with Ursula. It was excellent. You really are good on camera,” she said. “Funny. Smart. Insightful. A mini Oprah.”
“Thanks.”
“But that’s not the reason I’m here,” she admitted, unrolling the magazine she held to set in front of her.
Samira looked down at the national weekly celebrity magazine. “What’s this for?” she asked curiously as she eyed Rihanna on the cover.
“Follow the sticky note,” Alessandra said, crossing her legs as she settled her body in the chair.
Samira felt a little apprehension. “I’m not really into celebrity gossip,” she said as she opened the page. “Hell, I hate when we make the press—”
Alessandra smiled. “Looks good, doesn’t he?” she asked.
Samira pressed her now trembling fingers to the headshot of Lance on the glossy page. “Really good,” she whispered, taking in how ruggedly handsome he looked as he smiled proudly without a care for his scar. So confident and sexy.
“It’s nice to see him without the hat.”
“For the whole world to see without the hat,” she said in awe.
“The interview is good, too,” Alessandra added with an arch of her brow. “I think you’ll agree.”
Samira nibbled at her bottom lip, with her heart pounding and her nerves shot, as she read the interview with speed. He was promoting his newest release, Danger.
“‘Lance Millner, who is just as well-known for being a recluse as for his literary accomplishments, explains the reason he stepped out of the public eye several years ago,’” Samira read aloud.
She gasped. Lance opened up about the car accident, his wife and daughter’s deaths, and his scar, all leading to him becoming solitary.
“‘The love of a good woman and therapy helped me overcome it,’” she read aloud.
The love of a good woman...
So that’s why he never came. He’d fallen for someone else.
That hurt.
She closed the magazine and pushed it across the desk toward her sister-in-law as she put on a smile. “I’m happy to see Lance doing much better,” she said, reaching for her glasses and blinking to keep even one tear from falling.
Alessandra pushed the magazine back toward her. “Why do you look as if you’re smiling while constipated?” she asked.
She smiled harder, seeing the shadows of her cheeks rise beneath her eyes.
Alessandra recoiled and held up her hand. “No, you are giving off Joker from Batman vibes right now,” she drawled.
Samira stopped smiling. “Joaquin Phoenix or Jack Nicholson?” she asked.
“A little of both,” Alessandra emphasized with a shiver.
Samira playfully winced before she laughed softly. “That was a smile to keep from crying,” she admitted, removing her glasses yet again.
“Crying for what?” Alessandra asked. “Lance loves you. He worked through his issues. He’s made some major changes. It’s time for your happily-ever-after.”
“I’m truly happy for him,” she said with honesty. “But I am not the woman he’s talking about, and that’s...okay. I haven’t heard from him since the night he told me he didn’t want children, so I am not the woman he loves anymore.”
“Aw, Samira. I’m sorry. I thought maybe you reconnected recently.”
She shrugged her shoulder. “Definitely not.”
Alessandra eased her hand across the top of the desk to reach for the magazine.
“It’s fine. Leave it,” Samira said, turning to her computer. “I am still a Lance Millner fan and I am ordering a new copy of his book right now. I typed the first half, and I want to see how it ends.”
“Too bad real life can’t be written with the perfect ending like a book,” Alessandra said, leaning forward to extend her hand.
Samira took it and gave it a squeeze. “Says the lady with the perfect ending to her love story.”
“Not perfect, but good because of love, respect, hard work and lots of compromises,” she insisted.
Assi walked in. “Excuse me, ladies,” she said. “Ms. Ansah, I have your hot chocolate. Ms. Ansah-Dalmount, would you like something?”
Alessandra rose with a shake of her. “No, thank you,” she said. “Samira, I will see you in the morning for our flight.”
After the women left her alone, Samira immersed herself in work, distracting herself from the thought of Lance finding his happy with someone else. She failed at it so many times, having to tell herself, “Move on, Samira,” and “Focus” to get back on track. Throughout meetings and conference calls, her sadness about Lance was there, pulsing beneath the surface.
Later that day her fingers paused on the keyboard and she glanced over at the magazine.
The love of a good woman...
She closed her eyes and rested her head in her palm. “Shit,” she swore as the tears welled up.
She couldn’t stop them, not anymore.
“I loved him,” she whispered, reaching to the edge of her desk, where a white leather box held tissues, to quickly snatch a few before leaning back in her chair and dabbing at her eyes.
I love him. Still.
“Damn.”
She whirled in her chair and looked out at light snow falling on the city. In the windows of the office building across the street, she could make out tiny lit trees or Christmas wreaths in the windows for those celebrating the season. “Merry Christmas to me,” she muttered. “Thanks so much, Lance.”
“You ready?”
Samira looked up to find her mother, Alessandra, Marisa and Ngozi entering her office. She cleared her throat as she balled the tissues up and tossed them into the wastepaper basket by her desk. “Hello, everyone,” she said. “Ready for what?”
LuLu opened her closet and removed her coat and pocketbook.
Marisa and Ngozi gave Alessandra a meaningful stare.
“Fine,” she said to them, before turning back to Samira with a smile. “Lance has a book signing in Manhattan tonight, and we all thought this is your opportunity to say whatever you have to say to him.”
Ngozi held up both her hands. “In a public place.”
“In case he wants that old thing back one more time,” Marisa chimed in.
“No hugs, kisses and then long strokes,” LuLu added drily, motioning with her hand for her daughter to rise.
“Y’all told her about that?” Samira asked, jerking her thumb toward her mother, who was now sliding her coat up her arms as if she were a child.
The women all shrugged, as if they couldn’t help themselves.
Samira accepted her bag from her mother. “I don’t have anything to say to Lance,” she lied. “What if his new woman is there? What if I embarrass myself letting him know I even care that he moved on so quickly and publicly proclaimed his love for her when I had to slow-walk his ass to even leave his estate?”
“That sounds like some things that need to be said,” Ngozi offered.
“And we’re all here to support you in saying goodbye one last time,” Marisa added.
Goodbye.
“He didn’t even say goodbye,” she said softly, mainly to herself. “Neither did I.”
“Let’s go, ma poupée de chocolat,” LuLu said, leading the way out of the door.
Samira was a bundle of tight nerves and anxiousness as they all made their way to the elevator and then down to the lobby. Her mother’s chauffeur-driven SUV awaited them at the curb. She was surprised to see Roje holding the door for them.
“I thought you retired?” she asked.
He chuckled. “I did. I’m not chauffeuring. I’m driving my fiancée,” he explained, turning to hold the passenger door open.
LuLu smiled up at him before she scooped up her full-length mink and climbed in with the regality of the queen of England.
Samira barely gave it a second thought as she slid onto the rear seat beside Marisa with Alessandra and Ngozi on the third-row seat behind them. Soon they were being driven through the streets of Manhattan. She had no clue what the other women discussed to occupy their time.
She began to pant and pursed her lips to focus on exhaling and inhaling before she passed out.
This is crazy.
“Retouch your gloss, Samira,” Marisa said. “And catch those flyaway hairs.”
“And the purpose of putting lipstick on a pig headed to slaughter?” she asked, even as she opened her bag and removed her compact mirror and tube of lip gloss.
“Let him see what he’s missing, dear,” LuLu smoothly supplied from the front seat.
Samira caught Roje giving her an encouraging but worried smile in the rearview mirror, and she surprised herself by smiling back as if to let him know she was okay. She had to admit that she liked that he was concerned.
“It’s right up ahead,” Roje said.
Samira nodded as she eyed her reflection in the lit mirror to apply a fresh coat of a peachy shade. You are crazy.
She snapped the compact closed.
Roje double-parked. Through the windows of the big bookstore, she could see the large crowd in attendance to hear her Lance. No. Not yours anymore. Still, she was proud of him.
As the women all climbed from the vehicle and entered the brightly lit store, Samira’s eyes went to the rows of seats facing a small stage with a podium. Annalise introduced Lance to thunderous applause, and Samira felt breathless as he stepped through a door and stepped onstage. Sans hat. He looked good. Really good.
Damn good.
“Good evening, everyone,” Lance said into the mic attached to the podium.
She looked up at him as he glanced about the crowd with a warm smile.
“Thank you so much for coming out into this weather to see me. I truly appreciate it. I really do,” he continued.
Samira pressed her hand to her chest and felt the pounding of her heart. “Do you see him?” she asked, turning around. She frowned to find none of the women still behind her in the crowd.
“Hi, Samira! It’s good to see you.”
Annalise.
Instantly she remembered the night the woman had so clearly worn her feelings for Lance on her sleeve. Perhaps she had finally won him over. She turned with reluctance. “Hello, Annalise,” she said, barely able to muster any niceties into her voice.
The woman’s expression became guarded. “Um, this is for you,” she said, handing her a copy of Lance’s hardcover book.
Samira eyed it as she strode away from her. It wouldn’t fully close. She opened it.
Taped to the dedication page was a beautiful diamond ring beneath the words Marry me.
“Wait. What?” she said, touching the ring as her face filled with confusion.
And then she saw the dedication: For Samira. Forever. For always. For love.
She felt light-headed as she looked up. His eyes—those delicious brown eyes—were on her. Waiting. Assessing.
“I hope you all excuse me for just a moment while I handle some important business before we start the reading,” Lance said, and then he stepped down and walked up the middle of the aisle to reach her.
Every person in the packed area turned to watch them, and murmurs floated through the crowd.
Lance pulled her close to him and lifted her body up a bit. “I had a lot of shit to get together, and I needed more than thirty days,” he whispered near her ear. “Counseling helped, but I would not come back to you until I was ready to love you the way you deserve, Samira.”
Samira closed her eyes and brought her hands up to press against his strong back.
“I thought you were done with me until Alessandra called to cuss me out for how she thought I treated you,” he continued. “She also revealed you still loved me.”
Oh, Alessandra, thank your nosy heart!
He released her with a kiss to her neck and then knelt before her.
Gasps and sighs swelled in the air. Flashes from phones of the attendees and the cameras of the press began to pop like crazy.
He took the book from her and removed the ring before reaching for her trembling hand. “I love you, Samira,” he said. “Thank you for pushing me to be a better man. To be happy. To find the colors. I want to share the rest of my life with you. I want to have beautiful babies with you. I want you to be my wife.”
“Awwwwww,” several women sighed in unison.
I’m the one he loves. Me.
Samira stroked his cheek with her free hand. “I love you,” she admitted. “I am speechless.”
“Just say you’ll marry me.”
She nodded and used the back of her hand to swipe away an emotional tear. “I will,” she whispered to him.
“She said yes!” someone exclaimed.
Lance rose and grasped the sides of her face as she rose up on her heels to meet his mouth. The crowd erupted in applause. Their kiss was brief but filled with their hunger and the familiarity of their unique chemistry. She suckled his tongue with ease, getting lost in him.
“That’s enough, you two, you’re in public.”
Samira’s eyes widened in shock as she broke the kiss at the sound of Alek’s voice. She whirled to find the entire Ansah and Dalmount squad behind them. Quickly she hugged each one as Lance and everyone in attendance patiently waited. Her mother. Alessandra’s aunts Brunela and Leonora. Alessandra, Marisa and Ngozi. Chance and his mother, Esmerelda. Her brother Alek, who held her niece, Aliyah, and then her brother Naim, who corralled a squirming Kwesi. And finally, Roje.
“Don’t forget us.”
Samira whirled again, and happiness lit her face as she squeezed Helena and then Lawrence to her before bending to plant a juicy kiss to Law’s cheek.
“Let’s get this book signing finished so we can celebrate,” Lance said, reaching for her hand.
“Me?” she asked as he pulled her behind him toward the stage.
“Yup. You’re not leaving my side,” he promised her.
Lance reclaimed his spot at the podium, and Samira accepted the seat Annalise offered her.
“Congratulations, Samira,” she said with warmth.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling remorseful.
It must have shown in her eyes, because the woman gave her hand a brief but tight little squeeze before they both focused on Lance.
After the book signing and dinner with both their families, they returned to Lance’s home, where, just inside the foyer, he lifted her up and turned to press her back against the wall as he kissed her deeply. Hungrily. And he was starved.
“God, I missed you,” he moaned into her mouth.
Samira turned her head to break their connection. “Wait, we need to talk,” she said.
“But—”
She lightly touched her fingertips to his mouth, stopping him. “Please,” she insisted.
Lance nodded even as he shook away her touch and pressed light kisses to her cheek.
“Therapy?” she asked.
“Not done with it. At all,” he added. “But it helped. You were right. I needed the time apart to get my shit together, even if it meant taking the chance to lose you. I had to find me.”
Her eyes searched his. “I thought you gave up on us.”
“I thought the same about you,” he returned, feeling vulnerable.
She stroked his scar. “Yes, but Alessandra had to get involved?” she asked.
He saw her doubts and hated them even as he understood them. He’d had some of his own with each day that had passed during their separation from each other. “Alessandra accelerated the plan, but she didn’t create it,” he insisted. “I was coming for you, Samira. I purchased the ring a month ago.”
She lightly bit her bottom lip, and that made his inches harden.
“Good,” she said.
“Good.”
“My family leaves for the Swiss Alps in the morning,” she said with a wince.
“I know.”
“Now what?” she asked.
“You invite me along,” he said simply, with a face like “duh.”
Samira chuckled. “You celebrate Christmas now?” she asked.
“Hold on,” he said, with an arm around her waist.
She wrapped her legs around him and gripped his shoulders as he turned to stand in the entry to the living room. It was dark.
“Watch this,” he said, extending his arm to hit the light switch.
He watched her face closely as she gasped in surprise at the abundance of colorful, brightly lit Christmas decorations. The works—a huge tree. Garland on the mantel. The sounds of soulful Christmas carols playing. Christmas scenes tucked away on tabletops. Colors galore.
He loved the sight of it all reflected in her eyes.
This was what Christmas meant to him again. Spending it with someone he loved who cared for him just as deeply.
“You like it?” Lance asked.
She nodded. “When you get your shit together, Lance Millner, you really get your shit together,” she said, hugging him around his neck and enjoying the warm and spicy scent of him.
“Uh-oh,” he teased, pressing kisses to her neck.
“What?” she asked as he carried her deeper into the living room.
“Hugs,” he said.
He pressed his mouth down upon hers. “Kisses.”
“And long strokes,” they said in unison.
Samira awakened with her head on Lance’s chest as they lay with limbs entwined atop the thick rug in front of the lit fireplace. His snores blended with the crackle of the logs in the firebox. She leaned up on one elbow to look down at him. She could hardly believe the day’s events. She had found her happily-ever-after.
With a smile, she looked around at the festive Christmas decor as Teddy Pendergrass serenaded them with “This Christmas (I’d Rather Have Love).” She held her hand up and looked at her ring. “So true, Teddy,” she whispered.
“You happy?”
She looked down to find Lance’s eyes open and watching her. “Absolutely,” she said.
He pressed her down onto the carpet and turned over to settle himself between her legs. “I will never get enough of you,” he said, rolling his hips to slide his growing hardness against her leg.
Her eyes heated as she arched her back and presented her hard nipples to him to suck. He quickly obliged, drawing a raw, strangled cry from her that only hinted at her desire for him. “Lance,” she gasped, clutching at his strong shoulders.
He kissed his way up from her cleavage to her neck as he slid his hand beneath her to lift her buttocks. She spread her legs wide and shivered as he used his strong hips to guide the smooth tip of his dick to her core. She licked hotly at his mouth before he deepened the kiss with a moan and thrust his hardness inside her.
“Ooh, that feels so good,” she whispered.
He smiled down at her as gave her the last inch with a hard thrust.
She cried out. “I feel you,” she gasped.
“And how does it feel?” he asked as he lightly bit on her chin.
“Hard.”
He raised one of her legs up to rest at his shoulder and bent his own as he began to circle his hips, easing his length inside her with long tantalizing strokes.
“You’re the gift that keeps on giving, huh?” she asked, her eyes glazed as he quickened the pace of his thrusts, each one more powerful than the last when he struck against her fleshy bud.
“Damn right.”
“Merry Christmas to me,” she said with a sultry smile.
She tilted her chin up and deeply kissed the man she loved before they both roughly cried out, clinging to each other as they gave in to their explosive and hot climaxes.