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“Kali?”
Kali snapped awake with a jolt, her eyes scanning the room until they found Lincoln, standing with his suit jacket over his arm, eyes wide and mouth partially open.
“What are you doing here?”
“The crowd.” Kali shrugged. “Figured I’d get away from it, at least until you arrived.” She stretched. “I must have fallen asleep. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
Lincoln’s brow furrowed. “That explains why you’re in my room, but what are you doing here?”
His words weren’t accusatory, but they cut through Kali. She offered a slight smile. “For you.”
“But I said. I mean ...” He shook his head. “We’re supposed to be taking some time, to think, to—”
“We’ve had time.”
“With all that’s been going on I’ve barely—”
“Come here.” Kali patted the bed beside her.
Lincoln started a step, hesitated, then crossed the room and sat beside her. She took his hand in both of hers. “How are you?”
He turned his gaze to the floor. “I don’t really know. Mom wanted us to focus on the joy these past days.”
“I got that impression.”
“And it’s been good. Great, really. I feel closer to Dad than I have in years ... over a decade. More, maybe.”
Kali gave his hand a squeeze.
“But at the same time it makes it hurt all the more. All I missed, from him being gone, from me staying away ... The others, they have these memories, moments where he came back to them, if only for a few minutes. And even when he wasn’t quite Dad, they talk of his kindness, of his consideration.
“Rachel told a story of this day he thought she was an Avon lady. He spent an hour talking to her. Telling her about life, and listening to her problems. She said she wasn’t sure she’d ever had someone speak to her with such attention, such focus, and he gave that to a woman he didn’t know. A stranger, as far as he was concerned.
“The others all had similar stories, similar moments. I missed all of that.”
Kali inhaled and let the air out slowly. “I’m sure you missed a lot of wretched moments too, moments they wish they could wipe from their minds.”
“Yeah.” Lincoln turned his face to her. “But I don’t think I should have missed those. I think maybe they were important too.”
Kali rubbed her thumb along the back of his hand. “There’s no right way to do any of this. No perfect answer. You did what you needed to do for you. Wherever your dad is right now, I’m sure he understands that.”
Lincoln let his head fall. “I’m not.”
“You were there in the end. You had your moment with him, right?”
“Not the end. But close.”
“Close enough. I think that’s what matters.” Kali leaned in and rubbed a hand along Lincoln’s thigh. “I know all about beating yourself up for things you can’t change. It’s not worth it.”
Lincoln’s barely there smile grew before it faded again. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.”
Lincoln finally reciprocated her touches, his hand resting gently on her neck. The touch tingled, and Kali closed her eyes, savouring it. Her lips parted.
“I don’t want to miss you. It feels like shit.”
A laugh bubbled out of Kali as she opened her eyes and met his gaze.
Lincoln’s hand dropped. “Have you spent much time with Derek?”
A vice seemed to tighten around Kali, cutting off the laughter. “Some. Not much.”
I love you, she could almost say. I want you. And she did. She wanted him. She shifted closer, so their thighs almost touched. Her fingers tingled with the desire to run her hands through his hair, draw him close. The sweet possibility flashed through her mind: it would only take a moment, to step to the door, close and lock it, then return to the bed, indulge herself in touch. And if she said it, would he? I love you. But those words had power. They were a promise she wasn’t sure she could make, no matter how much she wanted to in this moment. A release for her. A comfort for him. Kali pressed her lips together, pushing the thoughts away. “We don’t need to talk about Derek.”
Lincoln looked to the door. “I should probably head back down.”
No. Kali reached for him, drawing him to her, letting their lips touch. He was hesitant at first, but then his arms wrapped around her, his mouth opened as their tongues explored. He leaned forward, gently lowering Kali’s back to the bed. This was it. This was what she wanted. Passion and urgency flowed through Kali as her heart pounded, as his hands explored her body. She reached for his shirt, grappling with the buttons. Lincoln stiffened. Kali swallowed, her hands releasing the soft fabric.
He pushed himself off of her and to his feet. “What are we doing?”
“We’re—”
“Nothing’s changed, Kali.” He gestured to the door. “And anyone could walk in. This is ... it’s ...” He shook his head. “My dad just died.”
“I know. I thought.” Kali sighed. “I don’t know what I thought. I just—”
“Look.” Lincoln gestured again to the door. “I don’t want to be rude. But maybe it’s best if you go.”
Her breath held.
“I want you here, but if we don’t work out ... Already people have asked about you. If you’re here now and then disappear ... there’ll be more questions. Questions I don’t know how to answer.” He paused. “And what we almost did ... that’s not going to solve anything.”
Kali stepped toward him. “And if we do work out?”
Lincoln shrugged and looked away. “Then hopefully you’ll be at the next family funeral.”
Trying to mask the way his words cut, Kali pushed out a smile. “Are they all such shin-digs?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But I guess they all try to focus on the good.”
***
AFTER A SHORT DEBATE on who would exit the room first, Lincoln left Kali still sitting on the bed and made his way down the hall. He stopped, turned back to the half open door, and took a step. One part of him said to go back, take her in his arms, tell her he’d been an idiot, tell her he wanted her, needed her, and everything else be damned. He stepped to the bathroom, throbbing, and braced his hands against the counter, reliving the feel of her body under him, the touch of her tongue ... and he’d pulled himself away. He was an idiot.
But then Derek flashed in his mind. Her husband. No matter what she said, no matter how she tried to dismiss it, Derek was still her husband and Lincoln wasn’t going to be the one to break up a family. Derek, with his quiet confidence. Was the only thing standing between Kali, Derek, and wedded bliss her own anger and hurt?
Lincoln had seen that anger—if Kali could get past it, who knew how she’d feel about Derek? Who knew if they could be a family again ... and wouldn’t that be the best thing, for all of them? All of them except Lincoln.
He wanted her here, not just in his bed, but by his side as he went downstairs, as he got through this night. But he didn’t want the false hope, the family and friends labelling them a couple, drawing her into stories and referencing future plans only for her to drop him days or weeks later, leaving Lincoln a joke once again—unable to keep a woman.
Not that he had reason to think that’s what his family thought ... but with Lucy walking around with her little baby bump—Lucy, who’d been at past family events on Lincoln’s arm—how could they not?
Lincoln turned from the counter and took a deep breath. Maybe he was weak. Maybe he was foolish. Maybe he was insecure. He continued down the hall.
At the bottom of the stairs, he turned toward the kitchen and its bursts of raucous laughter. He glanced back to the stairwell. No sign of Kali. The house was full. Boisterous. Most people wouldn’t have even noticed her, connected her to Lincoln—but the people who mattered would, the people who already knew her. He should have told her to stay, enjoy the party. Enjoy the food. He was weak. Cowardly. Shameful.
Lincoln turned again to see a glimpse of Kali’s afro as the front door closed. He gazed at the door. After what had just happened, it would be ridiculous to chase her. Still, he had to hold himself back.
Three hours later, Lincoln found himself in his mother’s sewing room, away from the crowd. They’d been a good three hours—drinking, dancing, laughing, stories. He’d smiled and joined in the fun, forgetting for brief moments the way he ached. But after isolating himself the past year, he could only handle so much.
He stood beside his mother’s glider, picked up a delicate piece of fabric from the side table, and turned it over, taking in the intricately embroidered flowers—a baby’s gown. He let it fall.
It had been odd, to say the least, being around Joseph and Lucy these past days, though Lucy actually hadn’t been around that much ... work, said Joseph in explanation of her absence. Which Lincoln found suspect. Lucy’s job was mostly a pick your own hours type of deal.
She was cordial when with Lincoln. If ever they had to speak—a rare occurrence—she kept the conversation light. Whenever she was around, he did his best to avert his eyes from her bump, but his gaze kept drawing to it, causing a twitch in the pit of his stomach. His niece or nephew was in that perfectly round belly.
The baby they’d lost probably wasn’t even his, but it could have been. He’d believed it was. As he chased after Lucy, desperate to tell her he was wrong, stupid, that he wanted their child, hopes had flared, images of all to come—cuddles, tickling, laughter, love.
He picked up the gown again and fingered the flowers his mother had so carefully stitched. Did this mean the baby was a girl, or was his mother being hopeful, eager for her first granddaughter after two grandsons?
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
Lincoln spun at the sound of the familiar voice, softer than he was used to. He dropped the gown. “Yes.”