Chapter 33
COLE
Earlier than planned, I rap my knuckles against Yasmine’s lilac-painted front door and wait.
Following dinner last night, I was a gentleman and dropped her off outside this very condo in Noe Valley.
When she explained that the three-floored Edwardian-style condo, painted in the softest shade of green, was left to her mother as part of the divorce settlement, it made sense, as it didn’t feel like Yasmine’s style at all.
She explained that her mom’s diabetes has worsened recently, and Yasmine felt guilty about even considering moving out, even though her father has offered her a place on several occasions, she refuses each time.
I can’t blame her. She’s independent and determined to buy her own home, but, as I look around at the palm trees dotting the boulevard and their large corner condo that overlooks the beautifully landscaped neighborhood, I wouldn’t want to move from here.
It’s perfect and one of the safest areas in San Francisco.
Additionally, Yasmine mentioned she has the entire third floor and the rooftop garden to herself, which makes her feel independent rather than as if she lives with her mom, so she’s self-sufficient in a roundabout way.
For weeks, Yasmine has been running from me, and now that I’ve finally found her, I’m desperate to woo her to show her that I’m not a fly-by-night fuck boy who talks shit and treats women the same.
I don’t. Not ever.
I smirk to myself when I hear Yasmine shouting behind the door, her voice growing louder as she tells her mom not to ask a million questions and to be cool.
Unlocking the door, then opening it wide, Yasmine greets me with a wide smile, her hair still wet from her morning shower, I assume.
“You’re early,” she states, and before I get the chance to reply, she steps forward and plants a kiss on my lips. “Morning,” she says with a sparkle in her eyes, pulling at the neckline of my T-shirt.
I can’t believe we’ve gone from what we were, nothing, to this in just a few days, everything… Well, not everything because, you know, we haven’t done anything other than kiss so far.
I’m trying to be patient, but when she makes advances on me like this, it makes me want to lift her into my arms and carry her up the stairs and do sinfully bad things to her.
Last night, when I dropped her off, I kissed her on her doorstep and left her breathless and a little flustered, the exact same way she’s doing to me this morning.
“Is this payback?” I mumble against her lips.
I’m gonna have a hard-on all day if she doesn’t stop kissing me and rubbing her perfect fucking tits against my chest.
“Maybe.” She nips at my lips, then backs away and surveys me with those black cat-flicked, lined eyes of hers. “Now.” She goes all serious. “My mom is…”
“Wanting to give me the third degree?”
“I was about to say she’s family-centered and will protect me with her life.
She’s also very strong-minded and doesn’t tolerate disrespect.
But if she loves you, God help you, she won’t let you go.
Unless, that is, you cheat on me as my dad did to her, and then she’ll threaten to chop your balls off. So yeah, just tread carefully.”
“She sounds a lot like someone I know.” I can already tell Yasmine is very much a mirror image of her mother and takes no shit. Especially the disrespect part.
When she thought I’d ghosted her, it was a sure sign that I was not to be trusted, and I can understand why she reacted to me in the club that night in the way she did.
She didn’t know me properly then, but I intend to show her I’m not the guy who ghosts.
Showing up today for her and her mom is just the beginning.
“Take a deep breath,” Yasmine says, threading her fingers into mine and turning to climb the stairs inside the house behind her, guiding me in.
“I deal with people all day, every day. I think I can handle your mom.”
“I thought you did estate planning. Are most of them not dead?”
“Yeah, but the people they leave behind are very much alive.” And they never like the reading of the will. No one is ever satisfied, and they always think they are owed more than they are given. “There have been stand-up fights in my office, you know? I can handle myself.”
“Well, that’s good to know, at least you’re prepared.”
“What? Yasmine? Is she really that gutsy? Are you being serious?” Now I’m regretting offering to take Yasmine and her mother to the hospital. Her mom might take an instant dislike to me and tell her I’m not good enough for her.
Yasmine bursts out laughing. “I’m kidding.” She releases my hand as we scale the stairs.
I feel hot and sweaty all over and might need another shower.
Maybe I should have covered my tattoos for today. Just because I like them doesn’t mean everyone does.
I have nothing to worry about because I don’t even make it two steps across the landing as we reach the top, and I’m being pulled into the warmest of hugs, being surrounded by everything Yasmine’s mom. From her smile to her perfume, everything about her screams affectionate and kind.
She rambles away in a language I don’t understand, looking from me to Yasmine as she stands back smiling, making fast hand gestures, causing Yasmine to laugh out loud. The only word I understand is Mina, Yasmine’s nickname.
“She likes you,” Yasmine states as her mom stops talking. “Even the tattoos.”
Thank fuck for that, although I knew I should have covered them up for our first meeting, as they can sometimes give off the wrong impression. Although, why should I hide who I am? I’m a professional who likes to look a certain way, nothing more.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Ms.…” I stall, my brain having a meltdown as I clearly didn’t do all my research. Hell, I don’t know what her surname is. If she’s divorced, she may have changed her name.
“It’s Ines Alami. Please call me Ines.” She wafts past me, tapping the bare skin of my arm.
“Now where did I put my phone charger?” she mutters to herself.
“Once I find it, we are good to go,” she informs us, with a hint of an accent in her American one, and she sounds more American than Moroccan.
I can tell from her demeanor she’s also confident and strong.
Strong enough to kick her husband out of her home when she caught him cheating.
I did the same: ended everything instantly.
Then cut all ties with my best friend—puh, what a fucking joke.
He wasn’t a friend, he was a fucking snake, though I didn’t know that then.
Had I realized sooner, I would never have let him into my life and home, where he chose to destroy both.
I had the tainted bed and mattress removed from my apartment immediately and threw the bedding in the trash.
“You look like you’re thinking about something.” Yasmine pierces my mind, the echoes of betrayal drifting off in a puff of smoke once more. Sometimes I wish I could erase those thoughts, but they slip into my head more often than I appreciate.
“I’m fine.” Being around Yasmine makes me feel great and it’s about damn time I bury those thoughts of Stephanie and Luca in a swampy pond. They don’t deserve my time.
“You’ll feel even happier when I show you the snacks Mom made for us while we wait. She’s a fantastic cook, truly the best.”
“Can you cook?”
“Sure can.” Yasmine grabs her black purse with a gold strap off the console table in the narrow hallway, then a black sweater.
Does she wear anything other than black? She’s a woman after my own black-colored-loving heart.
“Me too,” I confess. I love cooking, I find it therapeutic and it helps me switch off from work. “We’ll wind up fighting over who makes the best food then.”
She replies confidently, “And I will always win.”
Yeah, I’ll let her because when she looks at me like she is now, I’m a complete fool for her. Head over heels, more like.
“I’m ready.” Ines reappears, waving her phone charger at us before placing it in her purse.
Then I’m grabbing her overnight bag and placing it carefully in the trunk of my black Range Rover along with the snacks Ines prepared for us.
As we jump in the car, with Yasmine in the rear seat and Ines beside me in the passenger seat, familiarity washes over me, which I find oddly calming.
I push the Range into drive, and as we leave the curbside, Yasmine leans over and pats her mom’s shoulder. “You’ll have a new heart by this time tomorrow.” She sounds excited about that.
If it were a lifesaving surgery to help my dad, I would be too.
Ines taps Yasmine’s hand back. “I think your dad broke mine.”
“I know you keep saying that, Mom, but the doctors explained it’s the high levels of insulin that’s screwing up your arteries, and your insulin resistance,” Yasmine says softly, reassuring her.
Ines makes a hmpf noise and ignores her, then says something in her native language. I wish I understood.
“I won’t, Mom,” Yasmine responds, her eyes locking onto mine in the rearview mirror. “I won’t ever let a man break my heart,” she whispers almost inaudibly.
“And I promise not to break it,” I respond without hesitation, firmly, surer than I have ever been.