Chapter 7 #2
“Usually, I go to bed alone when I win.” His voice seemed laced with sadness. “A moment of honesty?”
“I hope, if nothing else, we remain honest with each other.”
“I was happy to see you in the stands. I didn’t care that I was pissed and believed you set me up to build your brand. Didn’t care because I wouldn’t be alone when I won.”
“Is that why you want me to be there in Miami?”
“Yes. The only family who believe in me are my grandparents in Barbados, who don’t fly.
My mother is somewhere in Chicago, living her life.
My father keeps thinking that this is his spoiled son’s ‘hobby.’ I train too much to have time for friends besides Malcolm, my crew chief, and Ms. Murielle, my chef.
So, except for the occasional groupie, most of the time, win or lose, I spend the nights I race alone, hyping myself up for the next race.
My fingers are touching the sky now, and I need you in my corner, even if it’s pretending. ”
Affected by the unexpected vulnerability in a man who seemed invincible, I admitted, “The one thing that won’t be pretended is my belief in you.
What you did out there was amazing. I’ve never been to a race before and never cared about a sport I deemed dangerous and foolish until today.
It takes unbelievable intelligence, skill, and focus to drive as you did.
My heart practically burst out of my chest. I yelled and screamed, rooting louder than anyone for you.
I don’t think I ever felt that exhilarated or free watching you.
” I clasped my hands in front of me and met his earnest gaze.
“With everything else that went down today, I never had the chance to say congratulations and that you were pure genius on that track. I hope I’m not sounding like a parent, but the best way I can say it is that I am damn proud of you and what you’ve accomplished.
And fuck anyone who doesn’t support your dreams.”
His lips curled into a smile. “No. You don’t sound like a parent at all. You sound like a woman proud of her man.”
I reached for his wrist and pulled his hand out of his pocket to grasp it tightly. “For the next few months, I’m proud as your woman. Once our arrangement ends, I hope I can be proud of you as my friend.”
Canaan swung my hand playfully. “You think we could ever be just friends?”
“I don’t know. But . . . a moment of honesty?”
“Of course.”
“I hope so because I already miss you.”
Canaan’s head jerked back slightly.
Embarrassed, I tried to pull my hand back from his grasp. But Canaan drew me to him and wrapped his arms around me. “Relax . . . I already miss you too.”
I closed my eyes, held on to him, and drew on the warmth, comfort, and safety within the cocoon of his strong arms. Maybe I could focus more on this side of him—the more reserved, honest, and vulnerable Canaan.
I could be friends with this version of him, with occasional benefits, once it was time to separate publicly.
“Let me walk you back. It’s late, and we have a long day tomorrow. More press conferences and interviews.” His voice broke the silence. We’d been locked in an embrace for what seemed like an eternity.
I looked at him. “Your place is right there.”
Canaan’s voice deepened. “If we go to my place, I can’t promise to be a gentleman.”
“We can be celibate in Miami. I don’t want you to be a gentleman tonight.” I picked up his hand again and led him to his villa.
He tugged against my hand. “Still, I’d rather we go to your suite.”
“When we’re right here? That makes no sense... unless...” I dropped his hand like it was a piece of garbage. “You have a woman waiting on you, don’t you?”
His prominent jawline clenched and unclenched.
I stormed toward his villa, and he rushed behind me. “Listen, I didn’t ask any woman to be with me tonight. But women don’t always wait to be asked . . . um . . .”
Over my shoulder, I snarled, “Shut up.”
“You can’t tell me to shut up.” The alcohol had slowed his reflexes, or I was that mad. Canaan struggled to keep up with my much shorter legs.
“Yes, I can. Do you want me to tell whoever is in your bed to leave, or do you want to do it?” I stopped at the large, wide doors to his villa.
“Oh, so now I can talk? You just told me to shut up.” At my menacing glare, he wisely opened his door and stood back so I could enter first.
I walked into the lamp-lit space expecting two or three rooms, not more. “Where’s the bedroom? This place is huge.”
“It’s the last double doors at the end of the hall after you make a right on this hall.”
Once I reached the closed bedroom doors, I yelled, “I’m sorry that my stupid fiancé forgot he had a woman.
No, fuck that. I’m not sorry. I have a knife and am not afraid to use it.
You have five seconds to get your shit and go.
And in case you want to pretend you can’t understand me.
Sal antes de que te apunale.” When I started counting down, Canaan had to bite back his laughter.
By the time I made it to one, three barely dressed brown women holding their clothes rushed out of the room and out of the house, too afraid to make eye contact with an amused Canaan or me.
I ordered, “Lock the front door behind them.”
He held his hands up. “You sure you don’t want to walk with me? Make sure they don’t try to take me with them?”
“Do I look amused, Canaan? Lock the door.”
While he quickly went to lock the door, I entered the massive master bedroom.
The bed was barely ruffled. Nothing had happened yet.
I should feel relief, but I didn’t. I was still jealous.
Hell, I was jealous? I prided myself on not being jealous.
Yet, I didn’t want him with anyone else.
At least not while we were together. I internally groaned.
These three months were going to be the death of me.
Women would be after him just to see if they could take him from me.
When Canaan reappeared in the doorway, rubbing his head, I asked, “Three. Really?”
Canaan grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t know for sure. Sometimes, women find their way into my bed. Sometimes, I kick them out, and other times, I go for it.”
“This is your big night. You would’ve been with them if I weren’t here.”
“But you are here,” he reminded me.
“And if we were a real couple, we would be done. I don’t tolerate cheating.” I brushed past him and threatened, “I would’ve stabbed you and them.”
“Damn, woman. It’s like that?” he exclaimed. “Then I’d better not cheat on you.”
“Ever.” I pushed open another door to a smaller bedroom. “This is where I’m sleeping. You can go back to your bed.”
“Wait . . . I thought . . .” Canaan struggled to find the right words.
I scoffed. “You think you’re getting some after I just caught you with three women?”
He tapped my nose. “Technically, you didn’t catch me. I didn’t even know if any woman was there. I just thought it was possible.”
“Well, they were here, and I remembered why I said no sex in the first place.” I strolled into the guest bedroom. “Good night.”
Canaan followed behind me. “We also agreed that you spend every night in my bed.”
“I’m not sleeping in that bed.” I shuddered. “Gross.”
“Then we sleep in here.” He moved past me, pulled off his shirt, and dropped his shorts before I could protest. I caught a glimpse of his boxer briefs before he slid under the covers, just grateful he didn’t sleep in the nude.
I remained by the door, my arms folded, tapping my right foot, unsure of my next move. I didn’t feel like walking all the way back to my villa, and sliding into bed with an almost nude Canaan was akin to the snake offering Eve the apple.
“Get in the bed, Kensie. I’m too tired to fuck anyway, and I have more interviews in the morning. People don’t need to know we’re already fighting.” He turned to the other side with his back facing me. “See, I’m harmless. I can respect your wishes. Respect mine. Get in bed and go to sleep.”
I reluctantly eased into bed, wanting to take off my dress, but I wore a thong. No way in hell would he or I survive a temptation like that. So, I settled next to him, and surprisingly, my eyes became extremely heavy, and I fell into a deep sleep.