The Unexpected Affair Page 10

  She was tired of thinking about it. Wouldn’t give it any more of her energy. She dialed Kenya’s phone number, pulled out of the school’s parking lot.

  “So I see you’ve decided to return to the States?” Kenya asked.

  “Got back on Sunday.”

  “And I’m just now hearing from you?”

  “It’s been a busy few days, just trying to get back into the swing of things.”

  “What’s that I hear in your voice?”

  “Nothing,” Whitney lied.

  “Come on, Whit. I know you.”

  “Let’s have a drink.”

  * * *

  Loud conversations filled the room, and a live band played a variety of instruments—drums, bass guitar and keyboard. The vocalist sang an old Frankie Beverly number.

  Kenya shook her hips before taking a seat at their cozy corner table. “I love this group!”

  “They are good.” Whitney slipped her purse into the empty chair against the wall.

  “A nice way to break up the work week, right?”

  “Yes. It’s a nice atmosphere. And the band is amazing,” said Whitney. “How did you find this place?”

  “It’s been here for years. It’s like a historical landmark or something. The owner is well-known in the community and it’s been in his family for generations. Lots of local bands got their start here, and when celebrities roll through town, they come here for, like, their after-hours set,” said Kenya. “He’s selling the place, though. Can’t afford to keep the doors open.”

  “Wow, it’s sad he has to sell the place. Sounds like a wonderful family legacy.”

  “I know, it is sad.”

  “I hope he sells to someone who will love it and keep the history alive.”

  Kenya leaned in and whispered, “Will owns this plaza. The owner pays him rent.”

  “Really?” Whitney cringed at the mention of Will’s name.

  “But the owner is in trouble, and Will is hoping that he walks away from the place. He wants to turn it into one of those upscale places. Cater to a certain clientele—you know, the ones who have lots of money to spend,” said Kenya. “He says it’s why Max is in the trouble he’s in now, because he caters to a low-budget clientele.”

  A male server appeared at their table. “What can I get you ladies to drink?”

  “Rum and pineapple for me.” Whitney pulled a small compact from her purse, checked her hair.

  “I’ll have a Merlot—” Kenya gave the server a smile “—and a glass of water.”

  “Great, I’ll be right back with your drinks.” The server disappeared.

  “So what’s going on with you, girl? You know I can read you like a book.” Kenya leaned back in her chair, crossed her leg. “Don’t tell me, the truck driver wasn’t all he was cracked up to be?”

  “Actually, we had a great time. An amazing time, really. My family loved him—” Whitney rolled her eyes “—especially my mother.”

  “Oh my God! Mama Talbot loved him?”

  “She gave him the third degree that she gives everyone. And Daddy gets along with everyone.” Whitney lowered her voice. “We even...you know...”

  “Shut. Up. You slept with him?” Kenya asked.

  “Shhh! Don’t tell everyone.”

  “You bad girl.” Kenya grinned wickedly. “Give me details. Was he an amateur or pro?”

  “It was very nice.”

  “Then I’m confused. What’s the problem?”

  “I haven’t heard from him since he left my place on Sunday,” said Whitney. “I’ve left text messages and voice messages. Am I expecting too much?”

  “Hell no! You gave up the goods.” Kenya smiled before noticing that Whitney wasn’t smiling. “How often did you talk before you left for the Bahamas?”

  “Every day. Sometimes several times throughout the day.”

  “And nothing since you returned?”

  “Not a peep. And it’s driving me crazy trying to figure out what I said or did wrong.”

  “Screw him!” Kenya exclaimed. “If he’s not going to give you the courtesy of an explanation, then so be it! Move on. He doesn’t deserve you.”

  Whitney shook her head in agreement. “You’re right.”

  Whitney hoped that Kenya would be able to dismiss Will so easily.

  “You like him!” Kenya peered at her friend. “You haven’t fallen in love, have you?”

  “No!” Whitney lied. “Girl, no.”

  “You’re such a liar. You love him!”

  Whitney sighed heavily. Turned toward the band. “I haven’t had time to analyze what it is I’m feeling.”

  “Have you forgotten about your Man Menu?”

  “No.”

  “Does he even meet a third of the criteria?”

  “I haven’t forgotten the Man Menu.” Whitney avoided the question. “Now let’s change the subject. We’re here to unwind, right?”

  “Right.” Kenya gave her a look of skepticism.

  The server placed drinks in front of them. Whitney smiled and bounced her head to the music. She checked her phone for missed calls or messages. There were several, but not one from Lane.

  “Be right back. Going to the little girls’ room.” Kenya stood. “If that server comes back, tell him to bring me some hot wings.”

  Whitney chuckled. “Will do.”

  She watched as Kenya made her way across the room and then glanced over at the bar. There he was, standing there. He looked up at the television mounted on the wall, his arms folded across his chest. Well, at least he wasn’t dead, she thought. The nerve of him standing there like everything was fine. She wanted to go to him, confront him. Give him her wrath. But when a soft caramel arm appeared out of nowhere and locked arms with his and a woman rested her head against his shoulder, she decided against it. She struggled to catch her breath, and her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. She’d been replaced by a woman in a short blue dress.

  He whispered something in her ear. With that, he began bidding a farewell to everyone at the bar. He laughed about something that the bartender said and then turned to the woman, ushered her toward a table on the other side of the room.

  Whitney had allowed herself to be vulnerable, and for that she blamed herself. She’d been so careful about guarding her heart and not letting anyone in. It was her way of protecting herself. Yet she’d gone against her own rules, and now here she was—angry. She had no right to be angry. He wasn’t hers in the first place.

  Kenya was right, she thought. He didn’t deserve her.

  Chapter 18

  The Bahamas had been mind-blowing. He’d needed a vacation, and it had exceeded his expectations by far. Not to mention the beautiful woman who had been his companion. She’d had his emotions so off balance that he needed a few days to analyze what was going on. So many times he’d picked up the phone to call or text but couldn’t. Then on top of it, work had been beyond busy—his hours had been insane. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa two nights in a row, and without supper.

  Whitney had left a few messages, and he fully intended to return them, but between recuperating, working and sorting through his feelings, he hadn’t gotten around to it. He’d have gone home and passed out on the couch tonight, but his cousin Nicole had shown up on his doorstep and insisted that he take her out for a drink.

  “It’s my birthday! Are you going to force me to celebrate alone?” she’d begged. “Just one drink, dude.”

  “What about your girlfriends? Wouldn’t you rather hang out with one of them?”

  “Come on, Lane. Put some clothes on!” she said, then went to his kitchen and swung his refrigerator open. Made herself at home.

  “What about your little boyfriend—the one I met at Christmastime?�
�

  “He’s history,” she said and poured a glass of fruit punch. “Let’s go have a drink at Max’s.”

  Lane sighed. “Just one drink. That’s it. I have to get up for work at three o’clock.”

  “In the morning?”

  “In the morning.”

  “One drink, I promise.” She grinned.

  * * *

  In the car, Nicole had inquired about Whitney. “Tell me about this woman you went to the Bahamas with. You like her?”

  “She’s okay,” said Lane nonchalantly, a slight grin in the corner of his mouth.

  “You like her. Look at your face.”

  “What’s wrong with my face?”

  “You have that look,” she pointed out. “You went to a whole other country with her! Did you meet her family?”

  “Yep.”

  “You met her family?” Nicole smiled, turned toward him in her seat. “Oh my goodness! That’s serious, dude.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Are you doing that thing again?”

  “What thing?”

  “That thing where you get scared and run from love. Are you going to let Helena ruin your life forever?”

  “She’s not ruining anything.”

  “Then why are you running from this woman who you clearly have a thing for?”

  “What makes you think I have a thing for her?”

  “You barely take time off from work to go to the doctor. Yet you take an entire week’s vacation to go to the Bahamas with a woman...you meet her family. You come back with this grin on your face...”

  “It wasn’t a week. It was just a couple of days.” Lane smiled. “And what grin?”

  “That one!” Nicole exclaimed. “All I’m going to say is, if you like her and she likes you, then why not go for it? Don’t mess it up like you did before. Don’t let her get away, Lane. Give love a chance. It doesn’t come along that often.”

  “Nobody’s in love.” That was all he said before pulling into the parking lot at Max’s.

  “Fine. Stay in denial.” Nicole stepped out of the car. “When she hooks up with some other guy, don’t come crying to me. I’m just gonna say ‘I told you so.’”

  “Shut your door so I can lock the car,” he said, ignoring her last comment. It affected him, though—her comment. The thought of Whitney with another man bothered him a little bit.

  She flicked her tongue out and then headed for Max’s. He followed and held the door open for her. The loud music greeted them the moment they walked in. Lane headed straight for the bar. It was his routine. The bar was where all of the regulars hung out, and sometimes he’d catch Max behind the bar working if it was a busy night. He usually greeted Max before snagging a seat.

  “My man,” said Max as he walked up. He was dressed in a blue suit and actually floating around greeting his clientele, as an owner should.

  The two shook hands.

  “I thought you’d be slaving behind the bar,” said Lane.

  “Not tonight. We’re fully staffed.”

  “Hey, Max,” said Nicole with a smile.

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Max gave Nicole a strong hug. “You’re looking gorgeous as ever.”

  “Thank you.”

  “How did you get this old fellow out of the house in the middle of the week?”

  “It’s my birthday! And it wasn’t easy.”

  “Well, now. Happy birthday!” exclaimed Max. “Your first drink is on the house.”

  Nicole hugged Max again, kissed his cheek. “You’re a sweetie.”

  Lane stood at the bar, looked up at the television mounted on the wall. He wanted to catch the score.

  Nicole looped her arm inside his and rested her head against his shoulder. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight, cuzzo. We won’t stay out long, I promise. I know you have to work.”

  “It’s cool. Glad I could celebrate with you.” Lane grinned. “Especially since you don’t have any other friends.”

  “Shut up.” She pushed away. “I have friends. I just wanted to hang with my favorite cousin.”

  “Well, good.”

  “Now...about those free drinks.”

  “Drinks? Max said one drink,” said Lane.

  “Well, you’re going to treat me to the others,” Nicole laughed.

  Lane shook his head and stared at the screen.

  Max walked up, patted Lane on the back. “I have your table ready.”

  Max escorted them to their table across the room. Nicole excused herself, went to the ladies’ room.

  “Have you given my offer any more thought?” asked Max.

  “About taking over the business,” Lane said matter-of-factly. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

  “And?”

  “I think we should schedule some time to talk about it. Have a real conversation,” said Lane. “I’m definitely interested.”

  “Good.” Max exhaled. “I’ll set something up.”

  * * *

  He couldn’t wait to get Nicole back to her car at the end of the night. He needed to make a phone call—a private one. He knew that Whitney had early mornings and didn’t want to call her too late, but he needed to call before the night was over. He couldn’t believe he’d been so foolish, not returning her calls and text messages. How was he going to explain his actions? He hoped she would forgive him.

  Chapter 19

  Whitney stepped out of the shower, wrapped a thick towel around her body. She’d cleansed and moisturized her face, rubbed coconut oil all over it. Glanced in the mirror. Her thoughts drifted to Lane and the woman in blue. She shook her head, wished she hadn’t allowed her heart to be so vulnerable. She’d usually been so guarded, yet she’d let her guard down for once.

  “Stupid,” she whispered to herself as she grabbed a tube of lotion from the bathroom sink, plopped down on the side of her bed.

  When her phone rang, she searched for it in the bottom of her purse. She looked at the screen. Lane. The nerve of him, she thought. Had he managed to find a moment to call her after he’d dropped his date off? She rejected the call. He called right back. She rejected the call again. When her phone chimed, she knew he’d left her a text message. However, she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. Instead of reading it, she began to massage lotion into her mocha-colored skin. She slipped into a pair of boy pajama pants and pulled a T-shirt over her head.

  Curiosity got the best of her and she grabbed her phone. Read the text message.

  Hello, Whitney. I’m sorry to call so late. Also sorry for not calling in a few days. I’ve been sorting through some things. I hope you’re still talking to me.

  She tossed the phone against the pillow as she slipped beneath the covers. She reached over and turned off the lamp on her nightstand. She didn’t need Lane, or his apologies. She had moved on.

  * * *

  Her five-and six-year-olds seemed busier and more playful than usual. She had asked them three times to make a single-file line in the hallway. She rarely had to repeat herself with her class, but today was different. Maybe her patience was thinner than it had been on other days. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and then asked them again.

  “Please form a single-file line along the wall, people, if you want to eat lunch today,” she said. “Is anybody hungry?”

  They all raised their miniature hands and then did as they were told. She led the way to the cafeteria, where her students took their places at their assigned table. She enjoyed the lunch hour. It was the only time of the day that she got a real break from her class. She slipped back down the hallway to her classroom, where her packed lunch—a ham sandwich and a small bag of Doritos—awaited her return.

  When she turned the corner, she noticed her c
lassroom door was ajar. She could’ve sworn she’d locked it. She wasn’t careless that way. She pushed the door and walked in and was startled to see Paula, the assistant principal, and Bridgette, the office secretary, chatting with Lane. The three of them laughed like old friends.

  “Here she is,” said Paula.

  She wanted to check her hair and lipstick to make sure she was presentable, but there was no time for that. He stood there dressed in tan khakis, work boots and black T-shirt. A green bandanna was wrapped around his head. She should’ve been mortified, but she couldn’t help noticing how handsome he looked, even in his work attire. She wondered what he was doing there in the middle of the day, but as soon as she heard the thunder and saw a bolt of lightning flash across the classroom window, she quickly remembered he didn’t work in the rain. A smile crept into the corner of her mouth when she saw the dozen white roses in a vase resting on her desk.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Lane was just telling us about your trip to the Bahamas!” Bridgette exclaimed. “It sounds so beautiful over there!”

  “I thought he should leave your roses on your desk, instead of in the office. Besides, he insisted,” said Paula. “No harm, right?”

  “Not at all. Thank you, Paula,” said Whitney.

  Paula gave Lane a smile before exiting the room. “Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Martin.”

  “Pleasure was all mine, Paula,” said Lane. “And great meeting you, too, Bridgette.”

  Bridgette shook his hand like a groupie would shake the hand of a celebrity. Whitney didn’t know how she felt about him being so damn charming. Once they were alone, she sat on the edge of her desk, thinking of how she was going to read him! How dare he show up at her school unannounced, and after being too chummy with that woman at Max’s. And insist that her assistant principal let him into her classroom. She would have a conversation with Paula about that.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, a look of sincerity on his face. “I was wrong.”

  “Yes, you were,” was all she could muster before he approached her.

  He wrapped his arms around her waist. “You forgive me?”

  How could she not with those beautiful brown eyes staring into hers?