Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Ididn’t expect her to call again. But there was no mistaking Vivian’s raspy voice cutting through the static on the line.
“What do you want, Vivian?” I asked, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder as I tried to shift ground beef from the skillet to the pot of sauce that was bubbling over, leaving splatters across the stovetop.
“Darkness,” she said, fear threading her voice. “There’s only darkness.”
Here we go…
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, not bothering to hold back the sarcasm. “How are you? So good to hear from you, as always.”
Whatever she said next broke apart into garbled noise. Thinking of what had happened the last time she called, I shuddered and glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen doorway, half expecting something monstrous to come charging through, ready to rip me apart and consume my soul.
“Where are you?” I asked, frustrated with the horrible connection. If she was going to call, I might as well hear what imaginary sins she thought I’d committed.
“Listen!”
That one word came through, urgent and clear.
I heaved a sigh. “I am listening,” I told her. “I’ve always listened to everything you ever said, even when I shouldn’t have. Do you have any idea what your constant hatefulness did to me, Vivian? What your inability to get your shit together cost me?”
A crackle of static was the only response. Of course, she had nothing to say. And why would she? She’d never cared about what harm she inflicted. Why start now?
I listened for a few more seconds, but nothing came. “Okay, great. Good talk. Thanks for calling.” I hung up and tossed the phone aside just as the pot of boiling spaghetti foamed over, the water hissing angrily as it hit the burner.
“Shit!”
I yanked the pot off the burner and flipped the knobs to OFF. Between the sauce splattering everywhere and the noodles boiling over, the kitchen was a disaster.
“Of all nights…” I muttered, glancing at the clock.
Whit would be there any minute, and I hadn’t even had a chance to do anything with my hair or makeup. Not that spaghetti with sauce from a jar was all that special or anything close to what he was probably used to, but I hoped the invitation meant something.
“Mama!” Henry called. “I need help!”
I hurried to his bedroom where he’d been playing with Legos. “What’s up, baby?”
He sat in the middle of his floor, surrounded by loose Lego pieces. “I can’t get up!”
I gave him a look. “Seriously? That’s the emergency?”
“There’s no place to walk,” he said. “They hurt my feet when I step on them.”
I shook my head. “Just put away the pieces.”
“I tried, but David keeps dumping them again.”
I put my hands on my hips and said sternly, “Knock it off, David. Henry has to pick up his room. You’re welcome to help with that, but no more dumping Legos.” I turned back to Henry. “There. He should behave now. I’ll help you scoop.”
A few minutes later, we’d put all the bricks in the bucket when the doorbell rang. And the smoke alarm started blaring.
“The garlic bread!” I groaned, scrambling to my feet and rushing to the kitchen, where smoke seeped out of the oven. I turned it off and grabbed a dish towel to fan the alarm.
Whit appeared in the doorway. “Need some help?”
I grimaced as the alarm started beeping once more. “Yes, please!”
He reached up, popped the smoke alarm off the wall, and removed the battery. The ear-splitting beeping immediately stopped. “Remind me to put that back up before I leave.”
I blew a lock of hair out of my face. “Thanks. That was supposed to be garlic bread, but I’m guessing it’s charcoal now.”
He chuckled and pulled me into his arms. “Turns out I’m a fan of charcoal.”
“Well, lucky you! Because I have a confession.” I glanced behind me at the stove. “I really only ever cook the kind of stuff that Henry eats, so I might’ve misled you when I invited you over for ‘dinner’. I’m not sure it’ll be edible.”
He shrugged. “Not about the meal. I’m here for the company. Aside from the Sunday dinners at Pearlie and Junior’s, I usually eat alone. So, I will take your spaghetti and garlic bread charcoal briquets if it means I get to see you.”
I was smiling when he kissed me, but my grin faded as the kiss deepened. The sound of Henry’s feet pounding down the hallway brought an abrupt end to the moment.
Whit groaned softly and kept his back to the doorway as Henry barreled in. “How about I help you finish this up?”
I couldn’t help a little wicked grin, having a pretty good idea why he was keeping his back to Henry.
“I’ll help, too!” Henry announced.
I intercepted him before he reached the stove and lifted him up. “I’m sure Mr. Whit appreciates the offer, but I could really use your help with something else.”
Despite the sad excuse for dinner, Whit dutifully ate a full plate and scraped the burned parts off his garlic bread, winking at me across our little table as he took a bite.
We spent the rest of the evening playing Candy Land, watching Henry’s favorite cartoon, and reading three bedtime stories before I finally called it.
“I think Mr. Whit needs a break,” I said, tucking Henry’s comforter around him. “It’s time for you to go to sleep.”
“But Mr. Whit is good at all the voices!” Henry protested.
Whit beamed as he tousled Henry’s curls and then offered his fist to bump. “We’ll read more stories next time. You gotta mind your mama.”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said, bottom lip jutting out.
When I finished tucking Henry in, I came out to the living room where Whit was sitting on the couch—not perched on the edge in that aloof posture I’d seen so often. He was actually lounging.
He held out his hand and pulled me down beside him when I offered him my fingers. I snuggled against him, closing my eyes, inhaling the scent of him, enjoying just being held.
“You okay?” he asked after a moment. “You seem far away tonight.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Vivian called today.”
“Your mom?” he replied. “I didn’t think she wanted anything to do with you or Henry.”
“She doesn’t,” I said. “She only calls when she wants to remind me what a horrible spawn of the Devil I am and how I’m going to burn in hell.”
“Hmm. Seems extreme.” His arm tightened around me. “I’m pretty sure the Devil isn’t your father.”
I lifted my head from his chest. “Care to tell her that? I haven’t been able to get through.”
He gave me a grin—cockeyed and boyish in a way that reminded me of Chase. It was the first real family resemblance I’d ever seen. “Happy to set her straight.”
“Thanks.” I sat up and kissed him.
It was meant to be a brief embrace, but then he was pulling me onto his lap so that I was straddling him, kissing me—passionately, urgently.
I gasped when he released my lips to press kisses along my neck, my shoulder, the hollow of my throat.
Then his mouth found mine again. His hands smoothed over my back, pressing me closer.
My skin was flush, burning for his touch.
When his fingertips brushed along the inside of my thigh, I shuddered and rose up on my knees.
His hand slipped under the hem of my shorts, his questing fingers making me bite my lip to keep from crying out.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
I nodded and let my head fall back. “God, yes…”
And then I was lost on a wave of pleasure, all the world slipping away until there was only that moment, only ecstasy.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” I said as we stood in the doorway of my apartment, meaning it with every beat of my heart. My whole body hummed, every sense heightened almost to the point of pain. Being near Whit woke something in me, something I hadn’t fully realized was sleeping.
He smiled and lifted each of my hands, brushing a kiss to them in turn. “Me, too. But I get it. I don’t want to confuse Henry either.” He gave a quick tug on my hands, knocking me off balance and straight into his arms.
I laughed softly and tilted my face up for a kiss, and he was happy to oblige.
When the kiss ended, he studied me for a long moment before saying, “Let me take you to dinner. Just you and me. We’ll make a whole night of it.”
I was slightly taken aback. A whole night? “Um…okay. I could ask June if she’ll keep Henry for the evening.”
“How about this Thursday?” he suggested. “I’ll pick you up at three, we’ll go to the Chateau early, avoid the crowds, and then take the night wherever it goes.”
I blinked at him in disbelief. “The Chateau? You mean in Charleston?”
“Well, not the one in France. We’ll save that for a weekend trip,” he promised with a wink. “Will you settle for the one in Charleston?”
I’d heard about the Chateau, a French restaurant, winner of loads of foodie awards, the kind of place where a glass of water probably cost more than what I made in a day.
“Whit, I’m flattered. I’m sure it would be incredible. But…” I pulled back from him, reluctant to share my thoughts, but why bother avoiding the truth? “I’ve never been anywhere like that. It’s not exactly the kind of place I could ever afford.”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “Remember our conversation about letting me spoil you? But if it’s too much, that’s okay. We can go anywhere you want.”
What could I say to that? That my version of spoiling myself was dinner at a chain restaurant with all you could eat salad and breadsticks and bottomless pasta bowls that would feed me for a few days if I took home leftovers?
He’d go if I asked. I knew he would. But some part of me was insisting I’d be a fool to turn down something I might never have a chance to try again.
Even once I was back on my feet and no longer living in Dawes House, a place like the Chateau would still be out of reach.
“I don’t have anything to wear to a place like that, Whit,” I said, making the last argument I could think of, even as the reality of the excuse made me a little panicky.
“We’ll go shopping,” he said casually, like it was nothing.