18. Denise
Chapter eighteen
Denise
"O K, queen!" Maya shouts at me as I enter the restaurant. She snaps a zigzag in the air to compliment my outfit as I squeeze past the host and a party still waiting on some stragglers. I tip my imaginary hat in thanks.
As one of the hottest brunch spots in the city, Mom's Kitchen and Bar is packed. I'm not a fan of the crowds, but Midtown was the best compromise between trekking all the way to Brooklyn— again! —and Maya and Tiffany coming uptown. One of these days, I'm taking them to Sylvia's so they understand there are plenty of great restaurants north of Columbus Circle.
I take my seat at our table in the corner and Tiff nods approvingly.
"You look amazing, D!"
I stand back up and do a twirl in my floral blouse and pants set from Karen Millen. I got it for a steal at a pop-up sale in Soho and the weather is finally cool enough to rock it.
"Thanks, girl! I bought way too many clothes for Fashion Week last month; this one didn't make the cut. I couldn't let those paparazzi catch me slipping, not when the right outfit could earn me a feature or a spot on another show."
"Isn't it about time you had your own show?" Maya asks with a twinkle in her eye. I just scoff. She knows having a show has been on my mind for years. She also knows it takes financing I don't have.
"Is that why you've been Ms. Incognegro lately?" Tiffany asks. "Unless you're teaching your class, I never see you, and even then you bounce as soon as it's over."
"Oooh!" Maya squeals. "Maybe she's rushing home for a hot date."
"Someone at the center, perhaps?" Tiffany jokes. "I may be in charge, but I'm not blind. Some of the new volunteers are too sexy for their own good!"
"Are you talking about Jorge?" Maya practically swoons. "If I still had my Tinder, I'd definitely swipe right."
Tiffany giggles.
"Jorge, for sure. Then there's Marcus—I don't think you've seen him, since he's only there on Tuesday and Thursday evenings." She averts her gaze. "Even Cory isn't hard on the eyes."
Maya throws a sugar packet across the table, looking scandalized.
"Stop! He's my brother-in-law!"
"So?" Tiffany snorts. "He's not my brother. More than a few instructors have asked if he can help with their classes. Some even asked about private sessions."
Tiffany waggles her eyebrows.
"Wow! I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Maya says. "All the Park men are players."
"Actually," Tiffany corrects, "he always turns them down. Says he's already committed to helping Denise with her workshop."
Two sets of eyes swivel in my direction and I try not to shrink away.
"You never mentioned you were working with Cory." Maya's accusation is clear, but I don't take the bait.
"It's no big deal. My class was overbooked," Tiffany sips her water primly as I give her a pointed look, "and he's got experience working with large groups of kids."
"From working on Wall Street?" Maya asks skeptically.
"No. From helping Damon with his basketball clinics." I try to keep the defensiveness out of my tone, but I'm starting to feel like I'm on trial. So what if I'm working with Cory? It doesn't automatically mean something's going on between us. I mean, something is , but—
"Well, whoever's got you so tied up, tell him he needs to let you out long enough for a 'Binge checking on me, trying to link up, just to say hi. I can't bring myself to ignore him, but I've been keeping my responses short. Any longer and I might say something crazy like, I really like you, Cory .
The one time he called, I rushed him off the phone, pretending my mom was on the other line. As if. But just because I told him about Andre, doesn't mean he needs to know I haven't spoken to either of my parents since his funeral.
"Uh, hello? Earth to Denise!" Tiffany waves her napkin in front of my face. "Where did you just go?"
I blink away the thoughts swirling around my head and refocus on brunch.
"Nowhere. Just preoccupied with work, like I said." I paste on a fake smile.
Tiffany and Maya exchange a look.
"Seriously, I'm fine," I insist. "C'mon. Let's get a pitcher of mimosas for the table."
Once the waiter brings our libations and we place our food orders, the conversation shifts back to the center.
"What you're doing there is seriously impressive," Maya coos.
"I'll drink to that!" I clink my glass against Tiffany's. "Between Maya's crafting class, all the other cool electives, and now my fashion design workshop, I bet you'll have a waitlist next term. I would've killed for programs like these as a kid."
"Aw, you guys! You're going to make me blush," Tiffany says, already several shades pinker. Maya squeezes her shoulder.
"You deserve your flowers, babe. Not many people could do what you've done. You built that program from the ground up in, like, six months. All while still getting used to a new city."
"That might be the most impressive part!" I exclaim. "Even with no connections, you still managed to get so many people on board with your plans for the center."
"Thank you," Tiff replies, misty eyed. The waiter arrives with our food, saving her from further compliments.
"So," Maya says around a mouth full of chicken and bacon waffles, "Did everyone get their invite to the Park's Halloween party next week?"
"You know it! I can't believe I finally get to dine with the distinguished Mama and Papa Park," Tiffany squeals excitedly.
I, on the other hand, have been dreading the event since I got my invitation in the mail a few days ago. Cory, me, and my girls all in one place with free-flowing alcohol? Something's bound to slip out and then everyone will know he and I are way more than acquaintances.
"You know," Maya leans forward with a conspiratorial grin, "last year's party is when Adam proposed."
Tiffany clutches her chest as if overwhelmed by the romantic gesture.
"Is that before or after you snuck upstairs to knock boots in his childhood bed?" I ask with a smirk. She scowls and flicks my hand playfully.
"After. And I never should have told you that!"
"Not if you didn't want me to tease you about it, no," I laugh. I look up to see Tiffany's smile go squishy around the edges. "Is everything OK, Tiff?"
"Everything's fine," she sighs with melancholy in her voice. "I'm just wishing I was anywhere near someone proposing to me. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you," she tells Maya. "I just wish I had more going than Tinder dates and hookups."
"So things didn't pan out with Monica?" I ask. I might be terrified of intimacy, but Tiffany is an even bigger romantic than Maya, and I want that life for her.
"Nah," she grumbles. "I finally responded to her after I wrapped my head around the whole thing. When the three of us…" She trails off and blushes. "It was good that first time, all of us together. And it was always great with Monica. But I didn't click one-on-one with Brandon at all."
Maya's eyes look like they're about to roll out of her head.
"Wait a second. You had a threesome, and this is the first time I'm hearing about it?"
I try not to preen. I guess Tiffany and I are getting close if she didn't tell Maya about the throuple thing.
"It happened when you were on your honeymoon," Tiff explains. "I met her at your wedding, actually, and after a couple dates, she brought me home to meet her boyfriend." Maya gasps. "I know. I freaked out at first too, but I really liked her, so I tried it." She slumps down in her chair, looking defeated. "But, as usual, no matter what I try, nothing sticks."
Maya and I both scoot our chairs closer to envelop Tiffany in a hug. No words are needed. Maya might be a married woman now, but she knows just like the rest of us that some days, dating in the city can just get you down. It's like, how many frogs do you have to kiss to get your prince? How many bad dates, broken hearts, and false starts does it take until you find someone worth your time? Someone that excites you in the bedroom and out ? Someone who shares interests with you, who you wouldn't mind spending more than just the night with?
Someone who, even after a shitty day, you just want to come home to and hold? , my subconscious adds. Because she's a bitch like that. She loves to lay it on thick, even after she's made her point.
Regardless of my plans and our bullshit rules, it seems like I may have finally found someone worth talking to long-term. And I think I owe him an apology.
Thankfully, I'm still on the list at the front desk and Mike lets me in with no problem. There's no guarantee Cory's home, or that he wants to see me after how I've been acting for the past week, but I have to try. He's worth at least that much.
I hear footsteps after I knock, and what sounds like a sigh before the door opens.
He looks good. Painfully good . He's wearing the hell out of some ripped jeans that are slung so low on his hips, I can see the deep ridges peeking from beneath his thin t-shirt. I've licked them more than once on my way to the prize below. His hair is mussed, falling haphazardly around his ears and into his eyes. But it's his face that makes my stomach sink. It's wearing a frown.
"Can I come in?" I ask, sheepishly. He jerks a nod and steps back to let me enter his apartment. He goes immediately to the fridge for a beer; that doesn't seem like a good sign.
"I wasn't sure you'd be home," I start, feeling suddenly awkward despite the pep talk I gave myself on the way over. Maybe this was a bad idea. "I—I know you have your family dinner on Sundays."
"That's not until six," he answers. He hasn't moved closer to me, still leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed. Yikes. He's mad .
"I just came from brunch with Maya and Tiffany," I explain. "They were teasing me about how I haven't been around these past few weeks. Tiff even said she's noticed some sparks between us at the center."
Cory takes a swig from his beer but says nothing.
"Anyway, Tiffany was telling us about how things didn't work out with someone she really liked. And in my head, I'm like, that's just dating in New York ; it can be so soul-destroying sometimes. It's hard to find someone you even want to hang with, let alone commit to." I move closer to him.
"But then I thought about you. And how we've been spending so much time together lately." He unfolds his arms. "And how you were the first person I wanted to talk to when Cynthia died. You didn't even try to fuck me that night."
"Why would I try to fuck you when you were clearly hurting, D? Is that the kind of man you think I am?"
I can feel the anger radiating off of him, but I still risk stepping closer.
"To be honest, it's the kind of man I assume every guy is. Not just you." He shakes his head, but I take his hand in mine. "But I wasn't paying attention. I was just going off what it's been in the past. I didn't notice things were different with you until the morning after last time."
"Yeah, and you bolted," he grouses, but he doesn't yank his hand away.
"You're right. I didn't know how to handle it. You were just supposed to be a booty call."
"Well, I'm sorry, Denise. I like you more than a booty call."
I step closer and put my hand on his cheek.
"I like you more than a booty call, too. Like… way more." His jaw softens and his rigid posture relaxes. "I don't know for sure what's happening between us, but I know it's more than just a late night hookup."
I lean forward and kiss his collar bone—the highest point I can reach. He lowers until our foreheads touch, breathing me in deep.
"It's more than that for me, too."
He kisses my cheek first, then my neck, and finally my lips. It's a sweet, almost heartbreaking kiss, and so much more intense than our usual frenzied make-out sessions. It's full of all the emotions I'm too chickenshit to say.
"Does this mean we're, like… together together?" he asks. Hope is etched into the lines of his face. I want to say yes. I want to give him what he's obviously desperate for. But…
"I think we should hold off on the labels," I hedge.
He sighs, disappointed. I pull his face down until we're eye to eye. Then I kiss him again.
"I care about you. You're the only person I'm seeing, and the only person I want to see."
"I feel the same way," he replies against my lips.
"So let's let that be enough. We'll keep seeing each other, keep having the same hot sex with just each other. Only now, we don't have to pretend there aren't any feelings between us."
"And you won't run off every time things get too heavy?"
I wince.
"I can admit I've been a bit skittish."
Cory rolls his eyes.
"You're more skittish than Clawdette, and she still won't let me pick her up."
"I can't promise I won't ever clam up. This is new territory for me, after all. But I'll try. I'll do my best to let you in. I'm hoping that's enough for us to keep seeing each other."
He pulls me against him, kissing the top of my head.
"It is."
For now , I hear him add silently. No man's willing to wait forever, no matter how crazy about the woman he is. I just hope I'm ready before he decides he's had enough.