Chapter Twenty-eight

Pia climbed into the cool conditioned air of Flo’s Navigator, happy to be out of the grueling July heat. She’d flown to Dallas from Houston, where she’d been all week, overseeing production on a cable special featuring Beyoncé Knowles. Florence had generously offered to meet her at the airport so they could spend the afternoon together.

“Flo, you really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have easily booked a car and met you at the hotel.”

“That’s not how we do things here in Texas. We take care of family,” Flo said with a wink. “Besides, if you think I’m gonna be hoppin’ on anybody’s subway when I get to New York this fall, you’ve got another thing comin’, missy. Becca and I are expectin’ the royal treatment.”

“Done. And speaking of Becca, have you talked to her?” Pia asked.

“Not in a while. What’s that girl gotten her pretty panties in a twist about this time?”

“She called me to ask for advice. She’s fallen in total lust with some bartender.”

“Well, that didn’t take long.” Pia filled her in on the romantic adventures of their young friend, and to Pia’s surprise, Flo listened but spoke very little.

“Looks like whatever she picked up at the workshop is paying off, though in some ways she seems more confused than ever,” Pia concluded.

“You know, that WMS workshop went a lot deeper than just teachin’ us how to bat our eyelashes. Seems the more we tap into the sensual side of ourselves, the more confused we get. On one hand we’re feelin’ all confident and lusty, but on the other hand those feelin’s are makin’ our lives hella complicated.”

“I know mine is, but how so with yours?”

“When you live in the moment, you start really noticin’ how much life has to offer. Makes you start lookin’ at your own,” Flo explained as she eased onto the highway. “I’m tryin’ to figure out how I got so comfortable livin’ such a small life. I mean, to some folks it might look pretty big—big house, big car, big social life—but really I’m just livin’ large in a really tiny world.”

“It’s the whole big fish, small pond syndrome.”

“Yeah, but it’s when you start wantin’ to swim the ocean that things get crazy,” Flo said wistfully. “Suddenly the fishbowl, even if it is an aquarium, just isn’t enough anymore. But enough of this sad-sack crap. How you and that baby doin’? You have to look for it, but I saw that little bump.”

“I know. It’s hard to believe that I’m almost five and a half months along.”

“Is he movin’ yet?”

“I think I felt a little flutter or two, but I’m not really sure. It’s kind of creepy and mind-blowing all at the same time. And I don’t know the sex, so my secretary refers to the baby as Pomegranate or Pom for short.”

“Sounds like one of those Hollywood baby names.”

“Her thought exactly.”

“It also sounds like a nickname a daddy should be comin’ up with.”

“You sound just like my mother. When she saw the picture of me and Valen in the New York Post after the Reston Walker event, she almost flipped. It took me two weeks to convince her that he is not the father.

“She doesn’t talk about the baby other than to ask how I’m feeling, but she’ll ask me about any guy she thinks I might have even said hello to. She’s ready to hook me up with anyone, just so long as I’m married before the baby is born.”

“She’ll come around.” Flo predicted. “Have you told the senator?”

“No.”

“So you don’t plan to?”

“I haven’t decided,” Pia answered, concentrating on the Dallas landscape whizzing by her.

“Well, darlin’, wait much longer and he’ll figure it out for himself. You can’t keep this a secret forever. I’m surprised he hasn’t noticed the bump yet.”

“He’s never seen me naked.”

Flo’s eyes left the road long enough for her to frown at Pia in disbelief.

“Why are you surprised? Remember me? I’m the one who’s only had sex once in five years,” Pia cracked. “I told him I was celibate. Look, he’s never around and I’m still traveling too. Since our date on the Empire State Building I’ve seen him twice—once at the Walker event and then again for our private book club meeting. It’s been a month since then.”

“What kind of relationship is that?”

“A lovely friendship that suits both our purposes at the moment. We talk on the phone at least once every day and e-mail even more. But actually seeing each other is complicated. Valen doesn’t need to be distracted by any press scrutiny over his private life, and frankly, even though I can’t stop thinking about sex now, I’m content to avoid the physical aspect of our relationship. We’re both perfectly happy being pals.”

“Maybe you can convince your mama of that load of crap, but sugar, this is me you’re talkin’ to. You’ve been blubberin’ for weeks about this man. Even Stevie Wonder could see how far gone you are, and now you’re tryin’ to convince me of this horse manure? Girls in love aren’t satisfied with just phone calls and occasional visits—at least not for long. ’Specially when they aren’t even conjugal visits,” Flo said as she pulled into the parking lot of the Fairmont Hotel in downtown Dallas and turned off the engine.

“First off, nobody on this side of the car used the L-word. I am just enjoying the feeling of dating and having an interesting man in my life again. Valen and I have the perfect romantic friendship. More than just buds, but none of that messy love stuff.”

“And that’s enough?”

“I know it sounds silly, but I love being wooed again. I love that Valen sends me flowers and cards and silly little e-mails to let me know he’s thinking about me. I love watching him on television and allowing myself the tiniest moment of pride, even though sometimes I’m in total opposition to his politics.” Pia smiled through her tears. “And I love that he cares about the country and the world. He has passion for lots of things, especially his work and me. I’ve missed that so much, so even if I can only have it for a couple months, it’s worth it. I’ll store the memories and the feelings, and when I’m up at three A.M. nursing, I’ll let my heart feed off those recollections.”

Flo listened to her friend and wondered if Pia could hear herself talking out of both sides of her mouth. She could deny her feelings for Valen—hell, maybe she really didn’t even realize their intensity, but it was clear as the beans in chili that the girl was in love.

“Sorry about the waterfall. Hormones,” Pia explained, wiping away her tears. “I cry at dog food commercials these days.”

“Pia, I know all about bittersweet,” Flo admitted, dropping her comedy mask long enough for Pia to see her pain.

“Like you were wishin’ for a baby, I was wishin’ that Dan would come home and want me again and our marriage would go on just like it had. Well, I got my wish and now I don’t know if it’s what I want.”

“Did he change that much while he was gone?”

“He didn’t, but I did. Hell, at fifty-three years old and after twenty-six years of marriage, all of a sudden I’m horny as a toad. Me, with the grandma bras! Who had seen that comin’?”

“I saw it in San Francisco when you were flirting with that dentist,” Pia teased.

“I have to tell you somethin’ I can’t even tell Miriam. Sometimes at night, when Dan’s snorin’ away, I lay there thinkin’, What would my life look like if I hadn’t asked him to come back? And then like you said, I let my heart feed off the memories of what it felt like when Dr. Clay Bickford was lookin’ in my eyes and makin’ me feel like he just wanted to gobble me up.”

“Call him.”

“I’ve thought about it, but no. I mean, what would be the point? I am married and I’m tryin’ to make that work. I owe it to myself and to Dan. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder.”

“Sounds like we really are in the same boat,” Pia remarked.

“Yeah, so let’s stop rowin’ for a minute and go have lunch before you have to get back to the airport,” Flo said as she checked her face in the mirror before opening the car door. “We can get you a glass of milk and me a martini and I’ll tell you how I was flirtin’ my big behind off a couple weeks ago.”

“You?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, sugar. I bagged me two prize steer and won five dollars to boot.”

“Girl, you’re dangerous,” Pia said, both stunned and amused.

“As Joey would say, downright nuclear!”

Pia touched down at LaGuardia airport at 9:36 P.M., and by 10:25 was home lying back in her bathtub, covered in rose-scented bubbles. She was exhausted. Traveling and baby-making was hard work. Pia planned to finish her warm, leisurely bath, read her nightly section of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, then kick back and relax until sleep demanded her body’s full attention.

She sunk farther into the sudsy water and, as it was prone to do these days, her mind drifted to Valen. She knew from his earlier e-mail that after a grueling day of campaigning he still had a long night of glad-handing and speech-making ahead of him. She didn’t anticipate hearing from him until tomorrow morning. In the six weeks they’d been “buddying around” together, it had become an endearing routine for her to wake up each morning to an e-mail or phone call or both.

For the zillionth time, her imagination drifted back to the exact moment their lips first touched. There was something magically delicious about Valen’s kiss, and no matter how many times she thought about it, it still had the same impact and produced the same chain reaction—a lip-biting smile, a belly-warming sensation, and the immediate craving for another and another and another.

Pia lifted her hand from the soapy water to caress her mouth, reactivating the electric residue of Valen’s lips. Of the thousands of kisses Pia had received in her lifetime, never had a man kissed her with such a soul-connecting quality. And never had a kiss made her so curious to know a man from his core.

The time was quickly approaching for Pia to make a decision about Valen. She was either going to have to break it off or let him know about the baby. Pia rubbed her slightly protruding tummy, noting that either way, she had only a few weeks left before her secret was revealed to the world.

The phone rang, bringing Pia back into the moment. She shook the water from her right hand and reached over to pick up the receiver.

“Hey,” Valen said. His voice sounded strained.

“Hey. I was just sitting here thinking about you.”

“Okay.”

Pia’s concern level immediately shot way up. Usually, no matter how tired, Valen would respond with some kind of remark that was equally endearing and suggestive. But tonight, despite the usual fatigue that lay beneath every conversation, she could hear a weariness that went beyond exhaustion.

“You okay? You sound…funny.”

“It’s been one tough night. Look, I know it’s late, but may I come over? I just really need to be with you right now.”

“Of course. Valen, you don’t sound like yourself. Did something happen?”

“We’ll talk when I get there. Thirty minutes?”

“That’s fine. Is there anything you need?”

“Just a hug. See you in a few.”

Pia hastily climbed out of the tub, dried off, and lotioned up. She was confused about what to wear. It was nearly midnight and she was tired as hell, but pajamas didn’t seem appropriate. Regular clothes felt out of sync as well, so she chose a loose-fitting caftan in her favorite shade of purple. It was the perfect blend of chic, casual, and camouflage.

A few quick swipes of mascara, a sweep of bronzer, and natural lip gloss, and Pia was done dressing with ten minutes to spare. She was going to need every single second. Whatever was troubling her friend—and something definitely was—he needed a place that felt safe and serene. A place where he could feel vulnerable and unburden his troubles.

Pia took the next eight minutes to breeze through her front room, turning on the water fountain, lighting the candlescape in the fireplace, and frantically searching for her favorite relaxation CD. With less than a minute to spare, she dimmed the lights, finishing the transformation of her living room into a tranquil oasis where Valen could find peace.

Ready, Pia plopped back on the sofa to wait. She’d kill for a caffeine-packed Tab energy drink right now. She was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but she would power through. Valen needed her, and Pia wanted him to know she could be depended on. Ten minutes later than expected, the intercom buzzed and the doorman let her know that Mr. Bellamy was on his way up.

Pia opened the door and stood in the threshold, waiting. The ding of the elevator bell announced his arrival to her floor, and she watched as he approached. Tonight, the virile and energetic man she was familiar with was lost behind a fatigued, battle-weary warrior. Valen stepped inside and without saying a word drew Pia into his arms for a long, tight, and desperate hug. The pair stood in the foyer, frozen like a sculpture, holding each other for comfort and in concern. Not one word was exchanged, but none were needed. The look on Valen’s face said it all. Whatever had occurred tonight had shaken him to his soul.

Pia broke their embrace and helped Valen remove his suit jacket and tie and led him by the hand to the couch. She poured him a glass of white wine before sitting and snuggling up against him. The pair sat there for minutes that seemed to go on forever, but there was no awkwardness in the hush, just a comfort level so great both knew that filling the air with words wasn’t necessary.

Valen sipped his wine and absorbed the serenity around him, letting the soft serenade of the music unwind his frazzled nerves. What bliss to walk into such a calming environment and into the arms of such a beautiful and understanding woman. How did Pia once again know just what he needed to soothe his battered ego and disillusioned psyche? She just seemed to have the uncanny knack of anticipating his mood—whether it be playful, serious, or passionate.

“They threw Oreos,” he said, finally breaking the quiet.

“I don’t understand.”

“I was in Buffalo at a rally, standing at the podium and outlining my ‘Respect Yourself’ campaign, and there was a contingent of loud black Democrats in the room, which is normal. There are hecklers in every crowd. Usually I can deal with them, but five minutes into my talk they started pelting Oreo cookies at me and chanting, ‘Uncle Tom.’

“I don’t get it, Pia. I was talking about the importance of respecting yourself and acting in a dignified manner with the expectation and the demand, even, that others do the same…that’s why I don’t get it. How is that being a sellout?”

“I’m so sorry.”

The pain in Valen’s voice caused Pia to cringe. It was unbelievable how protective she felt toward him and angry at her own political brethren for hurting him so. Political opinions aside, why did folks have to be so cruel? She rested her head on his chest and let him talk, instinctively knowing that he needed the opportunity to purge his anger more than discuss the events of this evening.

“The Democratic machine has been trying to paint me with that brush since I announced my candidacy…pulling out that ‘he’s not really black’ bullshit.”

“This sounds just like media-hungry ignorance at work,” Pia offered, fighting to stay awake. It was near midnight, and her pregnant body, encouraged by the relaxing atmosphere, was demanding sleep.

“It is showboating and ignorance from the opposition. And bigotry and playing the race card. It’s all that bullshit wrapped up in a goddamn cookie. If you want to go toe-to-toe with me on my stance on the issues, bring it on, but don’t step to me with insulting acts of cowardice.”

Hearing no response, Valen looked down to find that Pia had drifted off to sleep. His anger and disappointment reduced, he took a deep breath and leisurely finished his glass of wine, enjoying the feel of this woman he adored sleeping next to him. She was like a warm and cozy security blanket, and he was so grateful to have found this incredibly soft place to land. Pia Jamison was everything he wanted in a woman. She was beautiful, funny, and sexy. She also had her own life and interests, and a sharp mind that was as intelligent as it was independent.

Valen wanted this woman for his own, and just as soon as this grueling election came and went, he was going to do everything in his power to make her want him too.

“I love you,” Valen revealed, his voice just above a whisper, his mouth stretching into a wide, wondrous smile at the realization. Slowly, so not to disturb her, he cautiously eased off the couch and gently scooped Pia up into his arms.

Valen made his way back to the bedroom, making one wrong turn along the way. Apparently, Pia had been getting ready to retire when he’d called, as the linens were already turned down. He gently placed her on the bed and lovingly tucked in his sleeping beauty. Valen stood and watched her snooze for a moment, forever etching her lovely face into his memory. A powerful yawn broke the spell, reminding him just how tired he was. He’d love nothing more than to slide right into bed beside Pia, but he was being picked up early to begin another tedious day of morning meetings and afternoon campaigning in Long Island. Valen had to get back to his apartment and prepare.

He turned and was reaching for the light on the bed stand, but the book caught his eye. Why would Pia have a book on what to expect during pregnancy? He picked it up and began flipping through the pages until he reached a marker holding the chapter on traveling during pregnancy. Valen pulled the bookmark in order to peruse the page and realized it was a photograph—a sonogram, to be exact. He took a closer look at the grainy image, not understanding most of what he was seeing.

The only thing that was one hundred percent clear based on the name and date stamp, was that this was Pia’s baby and the sonogram was taken two weeks ago. There were other letters and numbers on the image, but Valen had no clue how old the fetus was. A confused frown lined his brow as crazy thoughts began running through his mind.

Pia claimed to be celibate, yet she was pregnant. Why had she lied to him?

Valen returned the image and the book to their proper place and took one last look at Pia before turning out the light. He turned and exited the bedroom, his steps as heavy and plodding as when he arrived. He was stunned and felt like he’d been sucker punched. Suddenly, like an image in a kaleidoscope shaken and turned, the lovely scene between them had shifted and changed into something totally unrecognizable.

Out in the hall, he felt the vibration of his Treo and cursed. He was so tired of always being so damn reachable. He opened the file to his mail and clicked on Ed’s latest, marked urgent. Apparently the New York Post was endorsing his rival. Reading the words, his face stung as if he’d been physically slapped.

A perfect fucking ending to a perfectly fucked-up day.