Chapter Three #2
“They hated each other. Not dramatically. No screaming. No broken dishes. They just made every room feel cold.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. Mostly because they divorced six months after I moved out.”
His expression changed slightly.
“As though they had completed an obligation.”
“Exactly.”
The fire cracked.
Aisha stared into the flames.
“My last boyfriend wanted me to sell my company.”
Graham’s face hardened.
“Why?”
“He received a promotion in Chicago. He said my work was portable.”
“Was his?”
“No.”
“Then why was yours considered less important?”
“Because he made more money at the time.”
“At the time?”
Aisha smiled without humor.
“My company earned more than his salary the year after we broke up.”
“Good.”
She laughed softly.
“That sounded vindictive.”
“It was.”
“He said I was choosing work over a future.”
“He was asking you to choose his future over yours.”
The words landed with uncomfortable precision.
Aisha looked at him.
Graham held her gaze.
“Any man threatened by your success was never strong enough for you.”
The storm seemed to quiet around them.
Not outside.
Inside her.
Aisha set her glass on the table.
“You say things like that, and then you go back to acting like I’m a problem you need to manage.”
His brow furrowed.
“When have I treated you like a problem?”
“You question every decision.”
“I question everyone’s decisions.”
“You order me around.”
“You ignore every order.”
“That doesn’t make it less annoying.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
Aisha hated the warmth it caused in her chest.
She looked away.
“You really remembered me?”
“Yes.”
“From college.”
“Yes.”
“All of Camille’s friends were in and out of your house.”
“You were different.”
“How?”
Graham did not answer immediately.
Aisha turned back to him.
He was watching her now with the same expression he had worn in the hallway on her first night.
Intent.
Careful.
“You never tried to impress me,” he said.
“I didn’t like you.”
“That was clear.”
“You barely spoke.”
“I spoke when necessary.”
“You stared at newspapers and grunted.”
“I was working.”
“You were always working.”
“So were you.”
“I was in college.”
“You repaired Camille’s dress. You helped her study when she nearly failed statistics. You drove three hours to bring her home after her first breakup because she refused to call me.”
Aisha stared at him.
“You knew about that?”
“I knew about most things Camille believed she hid from me.”
“She thought you didn’t notice her.”
His expression tightened.
“I noticed.”
“You didn’t show it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I was not raised by a man who showed much of anything.”
Aisha saw it then.
Not an excuse.
A pattern.
Inherited and polished until it looked like strength.
She leaned back.
“And me?”
“What about you?”
“What did you notice about me?”
His gaze moved over her face slowly.
“You were loyal.”
“That sounds safe.”
“You were ambitious.”
“Also safe.”
“You laughed too loudly.”
“I still do.”
“I know.”
“You hated when people underestimated you.”
“I still do.”
“I know that too.”
The room grew warmer.
Or perhaps Aisha had become more aware of the fire.
She looked down at his shirt around her body.
“You said you noticed me. Did you ever think about me?”
Graham went very still.
Aisha’s pulse quickened.
The question had crossed a line.
She knew it.
So did he.
“You were twenty,” he said.
“I asked whether you thought about me.”
“You were my daughter’s friend.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only answer that matters.”
“Back then, maybe.”
Graham set his glass aside.
His eyes were darker now.
“You should be careful.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
Aisha’s breath caught, but she refused to let him see it.
“Why?”
He stood.
She followed the movement with her eyes.
Graham crossed the small distance between them and stopped in front of her chair.
Not touching.
Not quite.
The firelight outlined his shoulders.
Aisha rose slowly.
Now they stood face-to-face.
She had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.
His attention dropped to her mouth.
There.
Finally.
No room to pretend.
“Is Camille’s friend still all I am?” she asked.
Graham’s jaw tightened.
His hand lifted.
For one suspended second, Aisha thought he would touch her face.
Instead, his fingers curled at his side.
“No,” he said.
The word was barely audible.
Aisha stepped closer.
“What am I now?”
His breathing changed.
So did hers.
“Something I should not want.”
“Shouldn’t and don’t are different words.”
“I am aware.”
“Then stop looking at me like you’ve forgotten the difference.”
Graham leaned down.
Aisha lifted her chin.
His mouth stopped inches from hers.
Close enough that she felt his breath.
Close enough that one small movement would end weeks of denial.
She waited.
Graham closed his eyes briefly.
Then he stepped back.
The sudden distance felt like an insult.
“You’ve had a long night,” he said. “You should sleep.”
Aisha stared at him.
“That’s what you’re going with?”
“You’re exhausted.”
“Don’t decide what I am.”
“I am not.”
“You just did.”
His expression returned to that controlled mask she had begun to hate.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa. Take the bed.”
Aisha laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course.”
She walked past him and grabbed her damp clothes from beside the fire.
“Aisha.”
She turned.
Graham stood exactly where she had left him, his hands clenched at his sides.
She could see the effort it took for him not to follow.
That should have satisfied her.
It did not.
“The next time you look at me like that,” she said, “don’t insult me by pretending you don’t know what you’re doing.”
She opened the door.
The hallway beyond remained dark and cold.
Behind her, Graham said nothing.
Aisha stepped out and shut the door between them.