Chapter 21
Kensie
“Are you actually going to eat anything?” The perfect breeze cooled without freezing our skin while we enjoyed an intimate dinner prepared by the chief stewardess, a Michelin-starred chef.
He looked skeptically at the caviar and the white spongelike dish, neither of which we could pronounce, on my plate as he sipped on red wine. “I asked for a gourmet meal for you. I gobbled down a sandwich before I left. I can’t take a chance.”
“Is it really your stomach? Ms. Murielle told me you’ve always been a picky eater. I mean, who doesn’t like pizza?”
“The cheese is too gooey,” Canaan explained it as if it were a fact.
I put down my fork. “Seriously? That’s when pizza tastes the best. Hot and cheese oozing off the slice. Perfection.”
He only wrinkled his nose.
I squeezed his thigh that rested against mine. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“First, for embracing my idea about inviting fans to your practice. And then you sweetened the pot by gifting fifty fans and their guests. That’s freaking amazing, Canaan. Do you know how many of us wouldn’t get this opportunity if you didn’t offer it? Who really gets to see a Formula One race?”
Canaan ducked his head slightly. “Tell Saraj he’s invited too. He can bring someone if he likes, on me too.”
I leaned against his shoulder, my heart bursting with joy. “You’re a good man. Do you know that? I’ve given you a hard time about the past, but you’ve shown up for me and others.”
“Nah . . . It’s easy to be generous when you have plenty.
Be more impressed with the poor man who gives away his last penny.
I know I’m more fortunate than most. My father’s business acumen transformed our family’s low-income status into generational wealth, and I played a role in making our family even richer.
We might not see eye to eye on most things, but I have to give him his props for what he built from nothing.
” He nudged my shoulder, clearly uncomfortable receiving praise when giving gifts to others.
I kissed his cheek. “I can appreciate what you’re saying. I just need you to accept my thanks because there are plenty of selfish, rich people in the world.”
He lifted one brow and reluctantly replied, “You’re welcome.”
“See, was that so hard?”
Canaan grudgingly smiled before he took another sip of wine.
“Is your father coming to Miami for the race next month?” From this angle, resting on his shoulder, his enviable lashes appeared long and curly.
“He probably doesn’t know I have a race,” he replied somberly.
I asked quietly, “What about your mother? Maybe this can bring you closer.”
“She’s a piece of work. Caught up in her public administration job for Chicago, and being a mother and wife to her new family keeps her too busy for anything else.
Haven’t spoken to her since Christmas. We speak during the holidays, and she’ll send a text congratulating me on a race my younger sisters probably told her about.
” His lips curled, “I do speak with my sisters from time to time since they’re now teenagers, and I want them to come to a race one day.
They, at least, seem to be proud of me.” He glanced at me. “What about your parents?”
“My parents don’t really travel. We didn’t have much, and the only vacation I remember was a trip to SeaWorld in San Antonio, and my parents argued the entire time.” I reflected, “I’ve never known a more miserable couple.”
He tilted his glass toward me. “You might not understand it, but on some level, they want to be together and probably love each other deeply. You’ve been gone for years. Plenty of time for them to divorce if the love wasn’t there.”
I contemplated his statement. “I guess I never thought about it like that. Their example is one reason marriage hasn’t been the end goal. I’ve been happy by myself these last few years. Why would I mess it up by insisting on marriage?”
“My fighting parents are the reason I never wanted to be married. I’m sure at some point they at least liked each other since they did marry and had sex at least once.
” He gestured to himself. “But I don’t believe they’ve spoken since I was ten, when he cursed her by phone in front of me for leaving me with her parents to raise instead of him.
My father has never remarried, and my mother seems happy enough with her new family, I guess. ”
Only the soft sounds of the yacht’s motor and the night waves filled the air as we held each other, locked in our own thoughts.
Canaan kissed my temple after a while. “May I ask how your career is about relationships, and you don’t believe in them?”
“I do believe in them. Just don’t believe you need one to be happy in life.
” I lifted my head from his shoulder and stared out at the dark ocean lit by the orange moon.
“I used to envy my friends’ parents growing up.
They would talk about how embarrassing their parents were when they kissed or touched each other, and I remember thinking that my parents never did that.
Then I noticed the love stories on TV and how happy people seemed.
I wanted to study that and understand if love can make you happy or if you can be happy alone.
The more I studied, the more I became interested in cultivating love and maintaining it, especially within the Black community, where many homes are broken.
Then when my own heart was broken, I wondered if we could be happy without love.
I have a hard time believing that God would only allow happiness inside a relationship. ”
“What have you found out?”
“People are happier in a relationship if it’s a healthy one. If it’s not, some research suggests you die younger than you would have had you remained solo. So, you’re better off physically and mentally being alone if you’re not in a healthy relationship.”
“That makes common sense.”
“Well, tell that to the multitudes of people who hold on to crazy because they’re too afraid to be alone.” I rested my head back on his shoulder.
“Are you scared to try again?” he asked quietly.
“Are you?” I countered and looked up at him.
His gaze steadied on mine. “Not anymore.”
“Why?” I asked softly, and his eyes focused on my mouth.
“You know why.” He suddenly shook his head and whistled. “You got me twisted.”
I snorted. “Both ways, sir. I can’t tell if you seriously want to be with me or you’re trying me on for size to see if I’m a good fit.”
“What’s wrong with that? Aren’t you doing the same with me?
” He arched a brow. “Trying to see if I’ll hurt you, if I’m sincere?
Fighting against whatever misconceptions and conceptions you have about me?
Something or someone has made it hard for you to trust or believe in love besides your parents. ”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. Most people get back out there when a relationship ends. You didn’t.” Canaan shifted, resting his back against the sofa arm, and pulled me between his legs as the waves lulled us under the orange moon and bright stars. “Tell me about the man who hurt you.”
I snuggled deeper on his chest. “Funny how thinking about him doesn’t hurt anymore when I used to think I would never get over him.”
Canaan asked, his voice gruff. “Who was he?”
I smoothed out the wrinkles on his forehead. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous of a man who means nothing to me now.”
“He hurt you . . . So yeah, I’m jealous of the man who made it hard for you to trust me.”
“Not just you. He made it harder for any man.” I gave a short laugh. “Oh, he shattered my heart with a sledgehammer and threw it to the lions for dinner.”
Canaan whistled. “Damn, Kens. What did he do?”
“He loved the challenge of me. I was focused and starting grad school. He pursued me as if I were the only woman for him. Against my better judgment, I finally gave him a chance, fell in love, and we moved in together. Then one day, I came home early and caught him and another woman in our bed.”
“You must have fucked him up and the woman pretty badly,” Canaan commented and brushed his hand over my hair. “If you threatened a knife at the thought of a woman trying to get with me, I can’t imagine what you did to them.”
“I’m not the badass I sometimes pretend to be.
I didn’t do anything. Not even curse him out.
I was too hurt, stunned, and ashamed even to be angry.
The woman ran, and he followed me, half-dressed, apologizing while I packed what I could and moved out immediately.
I haven’t looked back since. I felt so foolish that I wasted any time on him when my gut told me we weren’t right.
I decided that I would be happy by my damn self.
” I finally met his sympathetic gaze. “So, if you’re worried that I expect any sort of commitment after our time here, don’t.
I plan to enjoy my time with you while we’re here, be your biggest fan, then peacefully go our separate ways in Houston. ”
Canaan’s jaw tightened before pressing his lips gently against my forehead. “Then let’s enjoy our time here. We’ll worry about what happens when we’re back in Houston when that day comes.”
“This is a magical night. Just you and me talking and sharing a good meal.” I kissed his goatee.
“Thanks for this. I know how you’ve been on the grind, and I never expected a date, and definitely not on a yacht in the middle of the Atlantic surrounded by all this beauty.
I can add this experience to my book.” I wiggled my fingers like a mad scientist.
Canaan propped his arms behind his head. “Can you go a moment without thinking of work?”
“It’s no more work than racing is work. When you do something you love, it doesn’t feel like work.” I picked up his wineglass from the floor of the deck
“You have your own glass,” he drawled, his southern and island accent pronounced.
“Yours always tastes better.” I shrugged and took a sip. “You haven’t really eaten anything. At least try the lamb. It’s divine.” I sliced a piece from the plate on the table and forked it up to his mouth. “Open.”
He frowned. “What do I get if I try it?”
Popping the meat in my mouth, I grabbed his chin and opened his mouth with mine. His tongue received the morsel of food while we kissed. I pecked his lips before lifting my head. He smiled as he chewed. “I don’t know if it’s the lamb or your tongue that tastes this good.”
“It’s both.” I sliced more meat and used my fork to feed him, which he ate willingly. “Now, I know how to get you to try new foods.”
“If you let me put food all over your sexy body, especially your ass, I’ll try anything,” he smirked.
“You’re horrible,” I accused with a devilish smile, looking forward to exploring sex with him. I pushed off his chest to sit up. “Dance with me.”
“I thought you would never ask. Got me wasting my good sex mix tape,” he joked as he pulled me into his arms, and we grooved to his throwback Miguel playlist.
I don’t know how long we held each other and swayed, his erection a constant presence on my thigh. Yet, his arms remained wrapped around me. This was the best date I ever had.
As he took my hand to lead me down below to the bedroom, I grabbed my cell off the lounger. “I want to take a selfie of you and me.”
He frowned. “I thought I said no media.”
“This is just for me.” When he dropped my hand, I touched his forearm. “Come on, Canaan, I want something to remember this special night by. I won’t post it.”
Canaan raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“Please.” I squeezed his arm.
He stepped away from me. “Sometimes, moments are meant to be for your experiences and your memories. Everything doesn’t have to be captured in a photo or posted for the world to see.
Some occasions are meant to be private. I don’t need to be in the picture.
Go ahead and take it with the Atlantic skyline as your background. ”
“We’re here together, and you don’t want to take a picture with me on this yacht?
You don’t believe me when I tell you I won’t post it.
You think this is me trying to sneak a photo for social media,” I accused rather than asked, disappointment coating my words.
His silence felt like daggers in my heart.
“Wait, you still think I have something to do with that video? I’ve kept my word with you and been your friend, yet you don’t trust me.
Most of what I post are my experiences. I haven’t posted any pictures that included you without your permission. ”
“Trust is hard for me,” he firmly explained.
His confirmation twisted the daggers in that much deeper. “Even harder for me, and yet, I was starting to believe I could trust you.” I tugged on the ends of the lapels of his shirt.
“You can trust me. Just don’t want to take a picture.” We locked gazes.
“Really? Last time I heard, trust is a two-way street.” I grabbed my clutch off the deck sofa. “Is this really about trusting me, or is it because you don’t want to seem like a real couple?”
“Fuck it. Take the picture,” he scowled.
“I don’t want a picture now. You messed up the vibe.” I tried to walk past him, but he blocked my path. “Move, Canaan.”
He grasped my upper arms. “I don’t want our night to end like this.”
“I didn’t either. Yet, here we are.” I blinked back unexpected tears. “No matter what, we will always end up here somehow.”
Canaan gave an exaggerated sigh. “And what’s that?”
“At odds. We’re in one of the sexist places in the world on this exotic yacht, and yet, I’m feeling hopeless.”
His forehead dipped, and he barked, “Hopeless? I didn’t feel like taking a stupid picture. Because I didn’t go along with what you wanted, you’re disappointed in me? I’m hopeless now?”
I replied sadly, “I didn’t say you were hopeless. I said I feel it. Now, can we please just go to bed? Thank you for tonight, and I do mean that.”
Canaan held on a second longer, then released my arms and walked ahead of me down the stairs.