Chapter 12
Derrick felt a restlessness akin to an itch he was unable to scratch, and he knew it had everything to do with Leah. It had been more than two months since she’d come to Coates Island, battered, bruised. That was then, and this was now. The bruises had vanished, and he got to see another side of a woman who had remained in a toxic marriage for more than half her life. She reminded him of a withering plant that had been neglected far too long but with food, sun, and water, she had revived to flourish as a vivacious woman who made him laugh and look forward to their next encounter.
Seeing her every day was a constant reminder what had been missing in his life: female companionship. His wife was gone, his daughter had elected to live in another state, and each time he opened the door to the beach house and encountered silence, he recalled Kayana teasing him about waiting to become a grandfather to begin dating again. He now looked forward to the beginning of the summer season if only to keep busy, and after he ended his shift for the night, he’d go home, shower, and go directly to bed.
His present schedule of preparing brunch on a two-week-on, two-week-off rotating schedule left him with too many hours to fill up with manufactured activities. There was just so much exercising and television watching he could cope with before leaving the house to sit on the porch and watch the seagulls swoop down and fight over remnants left on the sand from the incoming surf.
Leah coming to Coates Island and moving into the upstairs apartment had turned his life upside down. Touching and kissing her was a constant reminder of Kayana’s insistence that he should be dating. And despite his protests, Derrick knew his sister was right. He went from the beach house to the restaurant and back again. Even sleeping with the divorcée had lost its appeal. It had been six weeks since their last encounter, and when he’d called to tell her he would no longer see her, he’d discovered she had blocked his number.
“Earth to Derrick.”
Kayana calling his name shattered his reverie. “What’s up?”
“You, Derrick. I’ve been talking to you, and it’s apparent you’d zoned out.”
It was Sunday, the restaurant was closed, and his sister had come in to pick up a few items she needed to restock her fridge. “I’m sorry, Kay. My mind was somewhere else.”
Leaning against the countertop, Kayana folded her arms under her breasts. “Somewhere or someone?”
Slipping on the bibbed apron, Derrick looped the ties around his waist. “What are you trying to say?”
“Leah Kent.”
“What about her, Kay?”
“You like her, don’t you?”
He gave his sister a direct glance. He and Kayana had always been open and honest with each other, and with her training as a psychiatric social worker he always valued her advice. She had encouraged him to get his daughter into counseling following Andrea’s passing, and it had taken several months, but he was able to see the changes in Deandra indicating she was healing emotionally.
“Yes, I like her.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.”
Kayana lowered her arms. “Nothing,” she repeated. “I’m going to say the same thing to you that you told me about Graeme. You can’t keep your eyes off her.”
Derrick smiled. “That’s because she’s cute.”
“Babies are cute. Little kids are cute. Puppies are cute, Derrick. Forty-something women are beautiful, lovely, attractive, stunning—”
“I get it, Kay,” he said, laughing. “Leah is all that and more.”
“Do you care to elaborate on the more?”
Derrick lowered his eyes. “She is rather sexy.”
“Aww, sookie, sookie,” Kayana drawled with a wide grin. “Brother love is physically attracted to my friend.”
His expression changed, becoming a mask of stone. “Whether I’m physically attracted to her doesn’t mean spit because I don’t get involved with married women.”
“Soon to be unmarried.”
Derrick froze. Nothing moved, not even his eyes. “Say what?”
“Didn’t she tell you?” Kayana asked.
“No. We don’t discuss her marriage.”
“What do you talk about whenever you’re together?”
“Definitely not her abusive husband anymore,” he said. “A couple of days after she came here I did ask her to be open with me about her accident because I’d suspected her husband was responsible for her injuries, and I needed to know how to respond if he decided to come after her.”
Kayana rested her hands at her waist. “Things have changed for Leah, because she told me the other day that her husband has been served with a summons that she was divorcing him. He called her cell phone for the first time since she left him, and she let me listen to his voice mail message. He called her names I’d never repeat to anyone. Leah said she’s going to save it as further evidence of his vindictiveness.”
“It sounds as if she’s in for a fight.”
“I agree with you, Derrick. That’s why she’s going to need our support. Even though she has her sons to back up her claim that her husband assaulted her, don’t forget he’s still their father, and it’s not going to be easy for them to forget all the good times they’ve shared with him.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t contest it, or he’ll lose not only his wife, perhaps even his sons, but also his reputation and so-called good name.”
“As they say, the ball is in his court, Derrick. He can either throw in the towel, or have his dirty linen aired publicly.”
He smiled, nodding. “The judge should think of his current situation as a game show contestant facing the possibility of winning a big prize. And behind the three doors is an uncontested divorce, a white towel, and a pile of dirty linen. If he’s smart, then he should choose the first or second door and get on with his life. If not, then his legacy will be as a domestic abuser.”
“From what Leah has told me about him, I believe he’s going to contest the divorce.”
“Then it’s his ass,” Derrick predicted.
“I’m going to get what I need and then get out of your way.”
He waited for Kayana to leave and was concentrating on cutting six chickens into quarters when Leah walked into the kitchen wearing an oversize white shirt, light-blue leggings, and matching ballet flats. With her bare face and hair styled in a ponytail she looked much younger than a woman approaching fifty.
Derrick smiled at her. “Good morning.”
She returned his smile. “Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you this early.”
He glanced at the wall clock. It was 7:20. “I didn’t plan to come in this early but since I was up I figured I’d get a jump on prepping meat for tomorrow.” Derrick didn’t tell Leah that he’d slept fitfully, got out of bed at five, worked out for an hour, and then came to the restaurant in an attempt to keep busy. “By the way, you just missed Kayana. She came in to pick up a few things.”
“Are you a workaholic?”
“Why would you ask me that?” Derrick answered her question with one of his own.
“Because it’s your day off, and you still come in to work.”
“The tourist season will begin in another month, and I have to get into the mind-set when we’ll open at seven, close for a couple of hours between breakfast and lunch, and then lunch and dinner, and finally lock the doors sometime before ten at night.” Derrick had told Leah a half lie. But there was no way he wanted to tell her she was the reason for his restlessness.
Leah sat on a stool. “That means I’ll probably do most of my baking prep after you close for the night. Kayana told me she usually begins preparing for breakfast at five, so I’ll come down at four to bake and finish up before she gets here.”
“Just make certain you get enough sleep, because working in a restaurant can run you into the ground.”
Resting her elbow on the table, Leah cradled her chin on her cupped hand. “The upside is I don’t have to commute to work. And anytime I need a break I’ll just go upstairs and take a power nap.”
Derrick winked at her. “Showoff. As soon as I brine the chicken I’m going to make breakfast. What would you like?”
“Shrimp and grits.”
“Hot damn! You must have read my mind.”
Her pale eyebrows lifted. “Really?”
“Look in the refrigerator and you’ll find a bowl of shrimp. Do you like old Charleston style shrimp and grits?”
“What makes it different from other recipes?”
“It’s shrimp and grits on steroids, with bacon, andouille sausage, green, red, and yellow bell pepper, chopped onion, minced garlic, half-and-half, Worcestershire sauce, shredded sharp cheese, and a pinch of cayenne pepper.”
“That sounds delicious. Do you mind if I watch you make it?”
“What if you help me make it?”
“You’ve got yourself an assistant.” Leah slipped off the stool and walked over to the shelf with aprons, tablecloths, and napkins. She put on an apron, covered her hair with a bandana, and washed her hands in one of the three industrial sinks.
It was her enthusiasm and willingness to help out in the kitchen that Derrick admired about Leah. He really did not need her assistance, but having her close by was a reminder of what he and Andrea had shared when dating. He knew it wasn’t fair to compare Leah to his late wife in the same way he wouldn’t want her to compare him to her soon-to-be ex-husband, yet it was the camaraderie of cooking together that he’d missed most from when he was married.
When he first met Andrea she’d told him up front that she was totally deficient as a cook. She could boil an egg, make instant coffee, toast, and heat up microwave meals. They’d dated for a year and were married for fifteen years when his wife turned her deficiency into proficiency in the kitchen.
Leah picked up a large colander and retrieved the ingredients needed for the shrimp and grits. “What’s for dinner?”
Derrick smiled at her over his shoulder. “We haven’t eaten breakfast and you’re already asking about dinner.”
“Sunday dinner was always a big deal at the Berkley house. We’d have a light breakfast before going to church. We always went to the early service and then returned home to begin cooking. Mama would always buy extra chicken liver, gizzard, necks, and backs because I would only eat them and not the legs or breasts.”
Derrick threw back his head and laughed. “We have something in common. I like liver, gizzards, and wings.”
“Do you know how to make dirty rice?” Leah asked.
“No. In fact I’ve never eaten it.”
“It’s like jambalaya, but with fewer ingredients. I haven’t made it in a long time.”
“Check the fridge, freezer, and pantry to see what we have on hand if you feel like making it. I know there are containers of chicken liver and gizzards in the freezer, along with several bags of frozen wings. Speaking of dinner, would you mind if we have breakfast here and dinner at my place?”
Leah executed a graceful curtsey. “Of course not.”
* * *
If Leah thought of the apartment above the Café as her sanctuary, then Derrick’s beach house was home. His arm had circled her waist as she sautéed ground pork for the dirty rice. She’d told herself that she was immune to Kayana’s brother’s sensual masculinity, but whenever he touched or kissed her she knew she had been in denial.
Her childhood dream of having a career was realized, while the dream of falling in love with that special man had been deferred—until now. Derrick had lost his wife, and she was in the process of ending her marriage to a monster. However, she was no eighteen-year-old with stars in her eyes because an older, wealthy man had expressed an interest in her, and she was not only older but hopefully much wiser when it came to her involvement with the next man.
Leah wasn’t looking for marriage; she wanted a relationship where she felt comfortable enough with a man not to have to censor herself. She also needed the option and flexibility to come and go without needing his permission. And, more important, she needed him to respect her—something that was totally missing in her marriage.
Within minutes of picking up the phone to talk to Sabina Gagnon, Leah knew she’d hit the jackpot. The woman’s rapid-fire, staccato style of questioning had initially unnerved her until Leah told her all she wanted was two million dollars to cover sixteen years of prorated salary and the legal use of her maiden name. She knew she had shocked Sabina when she rejected a bigger settlement for pain and suffering, but as the client she had established the terms.
Sabina was still awaiting a response from Alan’s attorney, but just knowing he had been served was enough for Leah to finally exhale. She had endured three decades of bondage, and now that she knew emancipation was a possibility, she had resigned herself to wait for as long as it would take.
Derrick pressed his mouth to her hair. “I noticed you used the liver and gizzards, but not the hearts.”
“I usually leave them out because even when chopped in the food processor they’re still tough.” She’d instructed him to finely chop the giblets, onion, bell pepper, and celery in a food processor, while she cooked the pork until there were no traces of pink. “I’m going to need a heavy saucepan.” Derrick let go of her waist, and she immediately missed his protective warmth.
“One saucepan coming up.”
“I need you to melt two tablespoons of butter and then add the giblet-vegetable mixture and sauté it until the onion is transparent. After that you can add the Creole seasoning, two tablespoons of salt, one teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce, a little crushed red pepper, and marjoram.”
He added the ingredients she’d set on the countertop. “How much pepper and marjoram, babe?”
“Eyeball it, Derrick.”
“One eyeball coming up,” he teased.
Leah couldn’t help laughing. “After you combine everything, you need to lower the heat to a simmer and cover the pot.”
He inhaled the steam coming from the pot. “It smells wonderful.”
“I’m going to let you make the rice because I still haven’t perfected it like you and Kayana have.”
“That’s because we were graded whenever we attempted to make it. My mother would put our names on a chalkboard, and each time we made a pot she would give us a grade. Kay ruined so many pots that Mom threatened to ban her from the kitchen. The first time I got an A I couldn’t stop teasing her, but I was never able to best her when it came to Grandma Cassie’s mac and cheese or Mom’s creole fried chicken.”
Leah rested her head against his shoulder. “The Café’s creole chicken is incredible. I don’t intend to blow my own horn, but I can make awesome double-crunch fried chicken.”
“I’ll make the rice if you fry the chicken.”
She smiled up at him. “That’s a deal.”
Leah did not have time to react when Derrick lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers in a kiss that was as light and gentle as a caress. Parting her lips, she went on tiptoe, moaning softly when his tongue dueled with hers. She managed to pull away because she knew if he continued to kiss her, she would shamelessly beg him to make love to her.
Her face was on fire, her body was on fire, and Leah knew if she did not put some distance between herself and Derrick, he would think she was a neglected, sex-starved woman who hadn’t slept with her husband in more than ten years and wanted to use him to assuage her sexual drought.
She bit her lip and pretended to be interested in the skillet. The first time she saw Derrick she couldn’t stop staring at him. Not only did he have a gorgeous face, but also the perfect body. And the contrast of his prematurely gray hair against his mahogany complexion was shockingly mesmerizing. Cherie had chided her for gawking at him because she was married, yet that hadn’t mattered, because what Leah was going home to fell far short in comparison to what she was looking at.
She’d studied the photographs on the living room’s fireplace mantelpiece and noticed Derrick was a more masculine version of his beautiful mother. There was a photo of him at his college graduation and another with him holding his infant daughter, and more with him, Kayana, and their sister as young children.
“Are you certain you want me to use chicken stock instead of water to cook the rice?”
Leah shivered as she felt Derrick’s breath on the nape of her neck when he stood behind her. “Yes. It adds more flavor, because you’re not going to drain it. Once the rice is fluffy you can add it to the pan with the chicken-vegetable mixture, and then the ground pork. Preheat the oven to three hundred degrees and put everything into a casserole dish for five minutes to absorb any remaining moisture.”
“Is there anything else you want me to do?”
He was standing so close. Much too close for her to be able to draw normal breath. “Do you have anything for a salad?”
“I have enough romaine in the fridge to make a Caesar salad. Would you like me to make one?”
“Yes. But please don’t put too many anchovies in the dressing.”
“Whatever you wish, babe.”
And it wasn’t until he walked over to the refrigerator to get the chicken stock that she felt in control of her emotions. It had been more than three weeks since he’d kissed her in the garage, and that was the last time he’d demonstrated a modicum of affection. What had changed? And why now? Leah drained the excess fat from the skillet and set it aside.
Leah felt Derrick watching her as she dipped pieces of chicken sprinkled with garlic salt and pepper into a seasoned egg mixture and flour and then back into the egg mixture before she carefully dropped them into the deep fryer filled with peanut oil. “Double dipping will result in crispier chicken.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She fried and drained the chicken and spooned the giblets into the middle of a platter and then surrounded them with crispy wings. Derrick had set the table in the breakfast nook with two place settings with wine and water glasses, the bowl of salad, and a tureen with the dirty rice. He took the platter from her and made room for it on the table.
“Red, white, or rosé? You’re not driving, and Graeme brought over enough wine on Easter to last us for months,” Derrick said when she hesitated.
Leah noticed he’d said “us,” and wondered how many more times they would share dinner at the beach house. “White.” And he was right about her not driving. She had left her car in the restaurant’s lot once Derrick promised to drive her back.
He rested a hand at the small of her back. “Come sit and relax. You’ve done enough cooking today.”
Leah slid onto the cushioned bench seat. “I enjoy cooking.”
“I know you do, but I don’t want you burned out before we even begin preparing for the influx of tourists. You really have no idea how hectic it can be.”
“But everything appears to run so smoothly.”
Derrick opened a wine cellar under the island and removed a bottle of white zinfandel. “The front runs smoothly while there is organized chaos in the kitchen. I can be a hard taskmaster whenever one of the waitstaff gives me the wrong order, so they’ve learned to check and double-check with the patrons as to what they want before placing their order.”
Leah watched as he expertly uncorked the bottle. “Are you saying you’re going to yell at me?”
“I don’t yell, Leah. If my mother and father didn’t yell and scream at each other, the sun wouldn’t rise the next morning. And we know like clockwork that the sun always rises every day, rain or shine. The day my father packed his bags and left the house was the day I swore an oath that I would never raise my voice to anyone.”
“You don’t yell, so you must threaten.”
Derrick returned to the table and met her eyes. “I don’t threaten. I give verbal warnings. Three warnings in any one week and they’re fired.”
“How many have you fired?”
He smiled, flashing deep dimples in his clean-shaven jaw. “Only one since I took over managing the restaurant.”
“How long has that been?”
“It will be four years in October.”
There were so many more questions Leah wanted to ask Derrick, yet she did not want him to think she was interrogating him. Picking up the pitcher with ice-cold water, he filled her glass and his, and then repeated the action with the wine before sitting opposite her.
Derrick picked up his wineglass and stared directly at Leah. “To beauty and talent. A most winning combination.” He bit back a smile when she demurely lowered her eyes.
Leah picked up her glass and took a sip. “Thank you.”
“Did I embarrass you?” he asked when an attractive flush swept over her delicate features.
“No. It’s just that I’m not . . .”
“It’s just that you’re not used to men complimenting you,” Derrick said, completing her statement.
Leah’s head popped up. “You’re right.”
Reaching for a pair of tongs, Derrick filled a plate with salad and handed it to Leah. “Your husband must have really done a number on you to make you believe men wouldn’t be attracted to you.”
Leah stared at her plate. “I was never aware if they were or weren’t. Whenever we attended or hosted a social event I would morph into whatever Alan or his mother wanted me to be. Having my children is what saved me.”
“Would you have stayed in the marriage if you didn’t have children?”
“If I didn’t have children, I never would’ve married Alan.”
Derrick leaned forward. “You married him because you were pregnant.”
“No, Derrick. Alan married me because I refused to have an abortion.”
“Should I assume he blamed you for getting pregnant?”
Leah smiled. “You assume right,” she said, filling her plate with rice and chicken. “I’m going to tell you how an eighteen-year-old college senior was beguiled by a thirty-five-year-old man and what ensued, and after I’m finished I don’t want to talk about it again.”
Derrick held up his hand. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Yes, I do, Derrick. I want you to know what I’ve gone through to become the woman you see now. And I don’t want you to pity me or say you feel sorry for me, because I’m not a victim.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
Derrick listened intently while eating dinner, his expression mirroring calmness as he successfully concealed his shock and awe when Leah revealed everything from the moment she bumped into Alan Kent and dropped her mother’s Christmas gift to his vicious assault when she refused to agree to vacation with him. He noticed she’d refilled her wineglass three times while she hadn’t touched the water glass. It was as if she needed the wine as a calming agent. And she was right. She wasn’t a victim but a superwoman to have withstood verbal abuse from not only her husband but also her mother-in-law.
Reaching across the table, he held onto her left hand. “It’s over, Leah. And you’re safe. And if by some miracle he discovers you’re living here, I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
“I’ll tell you the same thing I told my sons. I don’t want you involved in something that concerns me and Alan. I have a barracuda for an attorney, and I’m confident she’ll get Alan to go along with my demands. We never had a prenup, so I could ask for a sizeable settlement. But I don’t want alimony because I want a clean break. All I’m requesting is two million dollars to cover lost wages and two hundred thousand for legal fees.”
“Your attorney’s charging you almost a quarter million in legal fees?”
“No way. I factored in a generous bonus if she can get me what I want.”
Derrick wanted to ask Leah if she also had barracuda tendencies. “Do you think he’ll agree to your demands?”
Leah smiled. “We’ll have to wait and see. Alan is hardly a pauper. He set up trust funds for our sons once they celebrated their tenth birthdays, and when his mother passes away he’s her sole heir and beneficiary and stands to inherit millions. Alan won’t blink an eye if he has to write a check to me and my attorney. He’ll just have a little less to spend on his whores.”
“I can’t believe he’s still whoring at his age.”
“Once a dog, always a dog, Derrick. He doesn’t think I know it, but he has to take a pill before he can achieve an erection. And coupled with his age, high blood pressure, and irregular heartbeat, that’s a dangerous combination.”
“What’s he trying to do? Hasten his expiration date?”
Leah touched the napkin to the corners of her mouth. “I don’t know. I think it’s all about ego. It was the same with his father. They considered it a badge of honor to cheat on their wives and get away with it. What Alan failed to realize was that I didn’t care who he slept with as long as he didn’t touch me.”
Derrick still was conflicted as he tried to understand why a woman would stay with a man whom she knew was cheating on her. The instant Kayana discovered her husband was having an affair she’d called him. His first impulse was to drive to Atlanta and confront his brother-in-law, but Kayana reassured him that she had everything under control. However, it was different with his youngest sister. He had appointed himself her protector, and once she told him her husband was filing for divorce Derrick did confront him. Errol was apologetic and said he didn’t want to remain in a marriage where he and his wife argued constantly about how to raise their children, and he had to agree with his brother-in-law. He’d grown up in a chaotic household, and he didn’t want a repeat for his niece and nephews.
Derrick thought about the divorces in his family: his parents and sisters. He was thirteen when he’d come home to find his mother singing, “O Happy Day,” at the top of her lungs, and when he’d asked her why was she so happy, she showed him the court papers finalizing the dissolution of her marriage to a very unhappy man who had fathered her three children. Jocelyn’s husband waited until he’d fathered three children to have a problem with her when it came to child rearing, while Kayana’s husband had cheated on her with his colleague.
He stared at the clock on the microwave. “As of five-forty today, I suggest we end our Alan Kent book club discussion.”
Leah scrunched up her nose. “I agree.” She blew out a breath. “I think I drank too much wine.”
Derrick patted his belly. “And I ate too much of everything.” Leah continued to surprise with her cooking skills. The rice was delicious with just the right amount of heat to tantalize the palate. “I’d like for you to write down the recipe. I’m going to make up a few samples until I perfect it enough to add to the menu for a daily special.”
“You really like it?”
“For a rice-eating Carolinian I love it.”
“That’s really a compliment coming from you.”
“Although I rarely fry chicken, I did see how you make it, and I’m going to use your method. Perhaps we can have a wing night special. It’s funny that you and Kay have come up with new recipes while I’ve continued with the traditional dishes that are customer favorites.”
“What was Kayana’s contribution?”
“Korean barbecue. During a trip to New York City, she told me that she’d visited several Korean restaurants and found herself instantly addicted to several of their dishes. Once back in Atlanta, she’d experimented with Korean barbecue, and after a few attempts was able to duplicate some of her favorites.”
“The first time I ordered it for dinner I was hooked. Your waitress gave me the side-eye when I said I wanted two orders to go. She must have thought I was a glutton, because she knew I always dined alone.”
Throwing back his head, Derrick let out a belly laugh. “How long did it last you?”
Pinpoints of color dotted Leah’s cheeks. “Almost four days.”
He sobered. “That long?”
“Yes. I wanted it to last because I was too embarrassed to come in after a couple of days and order it again.”
“Well, you don’t have to be embarrassed anymore, because I’m going to grill some for you.”
“What do you use for the marinade?”
“Onion, garlic cloves, brown sugar, black pepper, soy sauce, sesame oil, pear, mirin, and ginger. Do you want short ribs or ribeye steak?”
“I don’t have a preference. Why do you include a pear?”
“Most Korean barbecue recipes call for a pear, and I assume it’s because they have a naturally high sugar content.”
Leah closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the bench. “I think I’m under the influence.”
Derrick recalled her admitting she’d drunk too much champagne and ended up in bed with a man who had taken advantage of her naïveté, and that resulted in her becoming pregnant. He’d plied her with alcohol despite her informing him she didn’t drink, because she had not yet reached the legal age.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a while.”
She opened her eyes. “I’ll be all right. I’m just going to sit here.”
Derrick stood, rounded the table, and scooped Leah off the bench seat at the same time she let out a little shriek. “You’ll be a lot more comfortable in a bed.”
Leah pushed against his chest. “I’m okay.”
Just like you were okay when you were too intoxicated to realize you’d had unprotected sex, he thought. “I’m still taking you upstairs.” He shifted her body when he felt her breast against his chest.
“No-o-o!”
Derrick registered the panic in her voice and felt her trembling, while wondering if Leah was reliving the scene and the act that had changed her life forever. “It’s all right, babe. I’m not going to hurt you.” In fact, he wasn’t going to do anything to her she did not want him to do.
He took the stairs two at a time, walked into the guest bedroom, and placed her on the bed. Sitting on the side of the mattress, he removed her shoes, and then reached over for the throw at the foot of the bed and covered her body. Dipping his head, he kissed her forehead.
“I’ll be back later to check on you.”
Leah caught his wrist. “Derrick.”
“What is it?”
“I really like you.”
He smiled. She was slurring her words. “And I really like you, too.”
Derrick moved off the bed and left the room. He hadn’t lied to Leah. He did really like her enough to invite her into his home. Even though his sister had nagged him about inviting a woman over for dinner to the point where he wanted to yell at her to mind her own damn business, he was glad he’d waited.
He liked Leah’s bubbly laugh, her upbeat disposition, and their compatibility extended to cooking and old-school music. He’d tuned the radio in the kitchen to a station playing classic hits from the sixties and seventies while they’d prepared breakfast, and she knew the words to every Earth, Wind, and Fire and Roberta Flack song.
She liked reading, and he was into sports, and come summer she would resume her book club meetings while he would get together with Graeme to watch baseball and the NBA and NHL playoffs.
Derrick planned to clean the kitchen and then watch a New York Mets game he had set to DVR. And when Leah woke he would drive her back to the Café.