Chapter Twenty
Kwame
Split
I stalk back into the yard and slam the gate closed behind me.
I can’t believe this happened.
I grab my half full bottle and drop into one of the cushions around the fire pit.
“Well, that was exciting,” Lo drawls and sits down on my cushion.
“No, actually it was a disaster.” She’s too close for comfort and I bring my body up to sitting and move to the next cushion. “She’s probably thinking about never speaking to me again.”
“Not probably. Definitely.”
I flash her a murderous glare before I turn to face the fire pit, my cold fingers extended toward the flames.
“Kwame’s got a crush. I never thought I’d see it.” She giggles.
“There’s nothing funny about any of this.”
“Tell me about it. Peeping Thomasina killed my vibe just when it was finally getting hot, and now I have to figure out how to get it back.” She reaches over to run her fingers down my forearm.
“No, Lo.” I grab her wrist and place her hand on her lap and let go. “Our friends with bennies situation is past it’s sell-by date.”
“Jeez, fine,” she huffs and falls back in her seat and crosses her arms over chest. “Do…you want me to leave?” she asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
Guilt takes the edge of my annoyance. None of this is her fault. I’ve given her mixed signals all week. “I’m sorry. No. I wasn’t expecting her. I’m rattled.” To say the least.
“So, who is she?” she asks after a minute of blessed silence. Her voice is casual, but I know Lo. She prides herself on knowing everything about everyone. This is so contrary to that narrative, she’s probably reeling. She’ll have to stay that way. I’m not ready to talk to her about Sin.
I pick my words carefully. “She’s a family friend. From Ghana. Nobody you know.”
“Oh.” She widens her eyes with feigned awe. “A normie?”
I flinch at her use of the word we coined when we were young, dumb, and heartless. Moments like this are a reminder that all Lo’s done since is age and get smarter.
“We’re not in high school any more, Lo. We’re all normies now.”
“Oh, Kwame.” She says my name like I’m an idiot she’s humoring.
“What?”
“This populist streak of yours is cute. But you wouldn’t last two weeks trying to live like everyone else.” She chuckles and shakes her head.
“How do you know what it’s like to live like everyone else?”
“I went to public school when my dad was running for state legislature remember?” She sticks her tongue out like she’s gagging and shudders.
I curl my lip at her. “You’re such a snob. It’s not a streak. It’s not my fault my dad is rich. I know you don’t believe me, but I want a simple life.”
“You have no idea what that really means.”
Oh, but I do. Two months of Sundays have shown me the life I want. I’m not ready to share that world with Paloma yet. “I’d like to.”
She sighs. “You can’t look like that, have that brain, all that money, and a father who has power and just…be a worker bee with a partner who you can’t bring to the club because she doesn’t know which fork to use.”
Her alluding to Sin makes my skin feel a size too small. I hate that she even knows she exists. “She’s not my partner. We’re just friends. But she’d fit in anywhere. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and it’s me who’d be punching up if she’d have me.”
“Wow.” She lets out a breathy chuckle. “Good thing I’ve got a thick skin. My feelings would be hurt listening to you talk about another woman like that.”
“First, you’d have to have feelings,” I drawl.
“Touché,” she sings.
Besides Titus, Paloma is my oldest friend. Our families had been next-door neighbors and her father is a mentor, even though he and my father are politically opposed.
Paloma and I ended up in college together and after three years of being fuck buddies decided to make it official during our senior year.
It didn’t last long. We seemed to bring out the worst in each other and the sex was mediocre. We were better as friends, and besides occasional alcohol-fueled hookups, have remained so since.
But when I moved back here things were different.
The previous ten years could have been themed Disasters in Dating. I had given up on the kind of love I thought I wanted. The kind that made any house, no matter the size, feels like home.
When I got back, Lo made it very clear she wanted to pick up where we’d left off.
She was honest about her motivations—an alliance that would give her the money to buy the power she sought.
I could do a lot worse than a gorgeous, intelligent woman I respected and who respected me.
We didn’t talk about love. We talked about goals and worldviews. We began a friends-with-benefits situation that included being each other’s plus one and blowing off pent-up sexual steam.
But since I started spending time with the Sackeys, Sin is all I want.
“I’m leaving,” Lo announces abruptly, breaking the uncomfortable silence that’s fallen between us.
I sit up. “You don’t have to,” I protest, but I’m not sorry she’s leaving.
“Oh yes, I do. I’m not going to listen you to talk about another woman all night if you’re not going to at least make me come.” She grins and sticks out her tongue, but her eyes tell a different story. I should have done this months ago.
“Listen Lo…”
“Spare me.” She gets to her feet. “We want different things and have always been better friends than lovers. That’s it.”
I stand and put an arm on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I sent mixed signals.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry if I made things with your mystery woman complicated.”
I cast a suspicious glance at her. “You are?” Apologies from her are few and far between.
She presses a hand to her chest. “Of course. I want to make things right. I can talk to her for you.”
My gut twists at the prospect of Sin and Lo having a conversation. “Let me see if I can get her to talk to me first.”
She pats my shoulder. “Give her time.”
“I hope you’re right.” I return my unseeing gaze to the fire and try to decide how best to proceed.
Her phone pings. “Okay, I’m out of here.”
“’Night,” I reply absently. She brushes a kiss on the top of my head and heads into the house.
What a shit show.
And a wake-up call.
What am I going to do?
I wonder if she’s run a reverse address search on the house and what she’s thinking and what she’ll do once she knows who my father is. If she’ll give me a chance to explain that the only Kwame I wanted her to hear, see, or know is the one I get to be on Sundays.
How do I explain that I didn’t intend to deceive them?
I told myself that there was no harm in not telling them who I really was.
I only saw them a few hours a week.
No harm, no foul.
Until last Sunday, I believed it.
But over the course of the week that’s followed, I found myself facing an existential crisis.
These two worlds don’t fit together. The one I want to live in feels like a pipe dream, rusted and full of holes.
Or is it?
For the first few weeks, I was firm in my determination to ignore my attraction to her. Even when her lingering gazes made me think she was feeling it, too. But that wall stayed up and firmly intact.
At least that’s what I thought, even when I was prepared to shoot my shot.
Whatever else went wrong tonight, I’m no longer uncertain about where I stand. She wants me. I never thought I’d see the day, but it was clear as a mirror—Sin was jealous.
The glimmer of gratification quickly dies when I recall the hurt in her eyes as she left.
I shouldn’t have invited Paloma over. Not when I was feeling so fucking sorry for myself and drinking.
Tired and ready to put a period on today, I extinguish the fire pit and go inside.
On my way upstairs, I use the app on my phone to turns off lights, lock doors, arm alarms, and silence notifications.
Besides the sunroom and the summer kitchen, my bedroom is the only other furnished and occupied room in this stupidly large house.
I turn on the shower and strip on autopilot and replay Sin’s shock and awe of a visit.
I went from panic, to confusion, to unadulterated lust when she touched her breast. Every drop of blood in my body rushed to my dick, and by the time I was thinking straight again, I’d broken something I hadn’t even realized I was holding.
I can’t stop thinking about the hurt in her eyes when she left and I’m not sure I’ll sleep well until I make things right between us.
I stare at my reflection while I brush my teeth.
How can I tell Sin who I am, what my life is when I’m not even sure anymore?