Chapter Five
Sin
Divine Intervention
I order an RG&T from the bartender and then look for a free seat at the busy bar.
My phone buzzes with the unique pattern I’ve assigned to my younger sister. She’s called me three times in fifteen minutes. If I don’t answer, she’ll escalate and start looking for me.
I turn away so my back is to the person next to me and take a moment to recall my cover story.
“Hey, Mae!” I answer brightly but in a hushed tone. Thank heavens the restaurant is relatively quiet. “Sorry I missed your calls.”
“Where are you?” she asks.
The bartender places my drink down and I wave my thanks and fish for my wallet while I talk. “I’m in the United lounge. Just waiting for my flight to board.”
There’s a beat of quiet from her end. “I didn’t realize you were leaving today. Why don’t you stay for Easter?”
“I decided last minute. I was going to call you when I got through security and forgot. I’m sorry.” I hate lying to her, but she’s got a big mouth, and I can’t risk my parents finding out I’m still here.
“Yeah, you are,” she retorts. “I didn’t even get to say a proper goodbye.”
“You’re having it now.”
“You’re so mean, Sin.”
“I know, but I love you. Is everything okay at home?”
My sister sighs. “Yeah, no, everything is cool. Mama and Daddy went to a special service at church. I came over thinking I’d find you alone. I was hoping we could have dinner. But never mind that.”
I bite my lip and wince at the pang of guilt that knots my stomach. I hate lying to my sister. “I’ll be back, Mae. Soon.”
“I know. I can’t wait. Oh! I know you have to go, but Stephen texted to say he’d been trying to reach you. Is everything okay?”
Not at all. “Yup. I’ll call him when I get to my gate.” Time to end this before I say more than I mean to. “It’ll be late when I land, so I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. It was great to see you. I love you.”
“Love you more, Mae. Bye.”
I hang up and drop my head into my hands. Being selfish isn’t easy, but I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easier than giving more than you get back.
I needed one night alone to settle my nerves after a week staying with my parents and I don’t regret taking it.
The bartender delivers my drink as I hang up. I hand him my credit card. “Can I start a tab?”
He takes it. “Sure, you want to see the menu?”
I hesitate and look back at the hostess stand. “How likely is it that there’ll be a cancellation tonight?” I ask.
“Oh, not likely at all.”
I pout and give up. “I’ll take that menu,” I tell him. I’m hungry and the food will taste just the same here as it would at a table.
He takes the card and walks to the register.
I’m starting to relax when a deep voice next to me says, “Excuse me, miss,” followed by a hand on my shoulder.
Annoyed and not in the mood for any bullshit tonight, I cast a withering glance at the trespassing appendage. And promptly swallow the “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” that’s on the tip of my tongue.
Everyone has a weakness and mine happens to be well-formed hands. The one I’m looking at is remarkable—golden brown, nicely veined, neatly trimmed broad nails on long fingers and big enough to cover the entirety of my shoulder.
Well damn.
It’s almost enough to make up for being touched by a stranger.
Almost.
I slip out of his grasp before I turn to face him.
He’s as built, handsome, and well-dressed as his immaculate hand and as confident as his presumptuous approach told me he would be.
Though increasingly rare, men like him are very familiar to me.
I’ve spent most of my life living in their favorite North American hunting grounds—New York and Washington, DC. They look like a dream but are vessels of mayhem and disappointment. I’ve just escaped the clutches of one.
I should dispatch him with an icy glare, but mustering the energy to be bitchy is more work than I want to do tonight.
I smile up at him. “Yes?”
“I couldn’t help overhear you just now. You were trying to get a table, right?” He smiles like he knows it’s hypnotic.
“I was.” I raise an eyebrow and wait for him to say more.
“I have a table for two and my date just canceled.”
I narrowed my eyes. “And?” I prod not sure where this is going.
“I was wondering if you’d like to share my table.”
“Oh. Really?” I give him a once-over, warily taking in his immaculately pressed trousers and dress shirt. “What’s the catch?”
“There isn’t one.” He shrugs. “You need a table. I have a spare seat at mine.”
The reflexive, “No thanks” that should be on the tip of my tongue isn’t.
I booked this hotel for the views and so I could eat at Dogon. I love the chef’s restaurant in New York and had been so disappointed when the hostess turned me away. Why not eat with him?
I look him square in the eye. God his eyes are dark as midnight. Not even the light’s reflection in them reveals his pupils. “No catch? You’re just being nice?”
He puts his hands in his pockets and leans back in his seat, smiling. “Crazy concept, right?”
Sometimes it feels like one. I don’t reply, but return his smile.
I could do with something nice. He’s not asking me on a date, and it’s not like we’d be alone. How much damage could he do over dinner in a public restaurant?
I brighten my smile and grab my purse. “Okay, yes. I’d love that. What time is your reservation?”
“In about seven minutes. Are you ready?”
I pick up my drink and step off the stool. “Very.”
“Great.” He puts a hand against the small of my back and sweeps his other arm out in the direction of the restaurant. “Shall we?”
I nod and step away from his touch as we head back toward the restaurant.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye.
He’s facing straight ahead, his jaw set. He’s the kind of handsome that’s timeless. Smooth, clean-shaven, caramel brown skin, an immaculate goatee, skin that looks like he takes good care of it, and a fresh low fade topped with waves that deserve a round of applause.
His eyes are deep set and narrow, with thick lashes that curl like I wish mine would. He’s got broad shoulders, a flat stomach, slim hips, long sturdy legs and is tall enough for me to climb.
Something has got to be wrong with him because if “too good to be true” was a person, it would look just like him.
“Kwame. I thought that was you.” The hostess’s screech drags my eyes away from him and my attention back to the present.
She steps from around her booth and throws her arm around his shoulders. “I saw your name on the list tonight, but I was sure it was an error. I’m so glad I was wrong.”
They hug like long-lost friends and I try not to be offended that he doesn’t introduce me before we’re shown to our table.
It’s not a date and we haven’t even exchanged names.
We follow the hostess into the heart of the restaurant’s sleek, cavernous dining room.
The artwork and furniture are a perfect fusion of the Caribbean, African and Black American cultures that inspired the menu.
Sleek, plushly covered chairs in dark blue fabric encircle dark wood tables adorned with gold finishes.
It’s beautiful.
The waiter places menus in front of us but I don’t need to look. I already know what I’m having.
“I’m going to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” I make a quick detour to powder my nose and when I get back he’s reading the menu.
“Okay, are you ready to order?” I ask with relish.
He looks up from his menu with a civil smile. “I ordered a few starters for the table, but he’ll be right back to add to yours. Feel free to add more.” He hands me the menu.
“I was going to order the suya.”
“I ordered it.”
I grin, excited. “Great. I’ll just wait and order my main course when he comes back.”
“Your RG&T,” the waiter says.
I look up with a smile but shake my head. “Thank you. I didn’t order this.”
“I did,” says Kwame.
“Oh,” I raise my eyebrows. “Thank you.”
“If you’d rather have something else, he can take your order.” His baritone is smooth as bourbon, his gaze is direct, and his smile is easy. I push my troubles away and focus on the boon the universe saw fit to send me.
“No, this is perfect.” I smile and pick up the glass.
He lifts his beer glass and tilts it across the black marbled table. “You’re welcome. Cheers to…?”
“New beginnings.” I lift my glass.
He nods. “And airport lounges.” He winks at me before taking a sip.
I wrinkle my nose and wish the floor would swallow me whole. “Oh my god. Don’t judge me, please.” I snort a deprecating laugh.
“I wasn’t.”
“I have my reasons,” I plead, trying to assuage my guilt and shame at once.
He holds up a hand and gives his head a slight shake. “You don’t need to explain.”
“I’m not a liar,” I add.
“Then you might want to see a neurologist ASAP because this isn’t an airport lounge.”
I laugh despite my flaming embarrassment. “I meant in general.”
He chuckles. “I’m giving you a hard time. I did the same thing tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t my date who canceled. It was me.”
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “Damn. Why?”
“Because the thought of eating dinner with her made me tired.”
I wince but nod in understanding. “Energy vampire?”
He huffs a laugh. “I’ve never heard that before but it’s perfect. I don’t always mind, but tonight, I just wanted to relax.”
“So you asked a complete stranger to eat dinner with you instead?”
“Yeah. I don’t like eating alone. You needed a table. I figured if you turned out to be an asshole, this booth is big enough that I could avoid conversation.”
I look around the massive circular booth and nod. It could seat six people comfortably. “That’s very well-thought-out for an impromptu invitation.”
“I’m quick on my feet. And it wasn’t that impromptu.”
“It wasn’t?” I lean back surprised. “But, that was the first time we saw each other.”
He nods. “I saw you earlier.”
“You did? Are you sure?” I wrack my brain trying to recall this morning.
“Very. You’re hard to miss.” He takes a sip of his drink, obscuring his face.
I cock my head to the side. “I can’t tell if you mean that as a compliment or a diss.”