Can't Let Go - A Contemporary BWWM Romance (15 page)

By
promptly seven o’clock on Friday night, I was standing at Kevin’s apartment
door dressed in black leggings and a cream tunic, hair curled and lipstick
intact. I’d been looking forward to our date ever since he asked me.

The
door swung open and Kevin stood before me. He was still dressed in his slacks
and button down from work, but I could smell something cooking behind him. A
navy blue apron covered his clothes as he held a slotted spoon in his hand.

“Come
in,” he said with a smile.

“Smells
amazing in here,” I replied as I took a big whiff. “Did you make dinner?”

The
apartment was a little dim, and soon my eyes were drawn to his dining room
table. It was set with dinner plates and wine goblets and lit up by the flames
of a few tall, white candles in the
center piece
.

“Wow,
Kevin,” I said as I walked over to it. “Is this for us? For tonight?”

“Yep,”
he said as he rushed back to the kitchen to tend to a beeping timer.

“Anything
I can do to help you?” I asked while I lingered in the doorway.

He
stirred a few pots on the stove before pulling some hunk of meat out of the
oven, sprinkling it with some seasonings, basting it, and putting it back in.

“No,
no,” he insisted. “Go have a seat in the dining room. I’ll be out in a bit.”

I
shuffled over to the dining room and took a seat, staring at the gorgeous glow
given off by the flickering candles. The food smelled amazing and I was growing
hungrier by the second.

A
few minutes later, he emerged with two plates full of what looked like roasted
chicken and root vegetables along with some sort of fancy-looking biscuit.

“Wow,”
I said as I took in the sights. It was nothing short of what you’d get at a
five-star restaurant, presentation and everything.

He
beamed proudly as he pulled out my napkin and placed it in my lap for me. He
took a seat across from me.

“
Bon appétit
,” he said as he dug in.

The
candles in the centerpiece took up such a large area that I didn’t have a
direct line of vision with him. We couldn’t make lovey-dovey faces or googly
eyes with each other, but maybe that’s how he wanted it. I could never be sure
with him.

It
was nice to have a man go to such lengths for me again. It was nice to have
someone do something this thoughtful and special for no reason at all. This
meant more to me than any text message or flower ever could.

“I’m
so full,” I groaned as I took my last bite a little while later.

“I
hope you saved room for dessert,” he replied from across the table.

“You
made this big, elaborate dinner and you still had time to make dessert?” I
laughed. “What are you, some sort of Martha Stewart protégé?”

“Ha,”
he laughed. He stood up and took both of our plates to the kitchen. “No. I
stopped and picked up a pie on the way home from work.”

“Well,
you just had this all planned out, didn’t you?” I called out from my seat. I
could hear him scraping the dishes and loading them into his dishwasher. I
really wanted to help him clean up, but I knew he’d refuse.

“I
got chocolate silk pie,” he called back. “Is that okay? Do you like chocolate?”

“Um,
that’s like asking me if I like to breathe,” I replied.

I
was tired of shouting from across the apartment, so I stood up and made my way
to the kitchen where he was grabbing small plates and a pie cutter.

“Can
we maybe go for a walk first?” I said. “Because I really, really want a piece
of pie, but there’s literally no room in there right now.”

I
patted my belly and pooched it out a bit.

He
laughed. “Sure.”

He
placed the pie back in the refrigerator and followed me to the front door.
Luckily I had decided to wear flats that night, and they were comfortable flats
at that. They’d be just fine for a nice, leisurely stroll around the
neighborhood. I’d already put my feet through enough torture the past couple
weekends.

Already
a few days into March, things were really starting to warm up. We didn’t even
need jackets. We walked side by side down the street together, discussing our
weeks and talking about how good dinner was. Kevin confessed that it was the
first time he’d made roast chicken, but his mom had coached him through it over
the phone.

“That
is the sweetest thing ever,” I said as I batted his arm. “Thanks for doing
that. It was a lovely dinner.”

He
grinned proudly as his dimples caught my eye once again. God, he had the most
amazing dimples.

“I
think I’ve got room for that pie now,” I said a
half hour
into our walk. “Shall we head back?”

We
made our way back towards his place and climbed the stairs to the building. The
moment we set foot inside, a giggling noise echoed through the wide halls and
down the corridor.

We
climbed another set of stairs to get to his door, both stopping in our tracks
the moment we saw Ayla and Antoine getting frisky outside of her apartment
door. His hands were traveling up and down every inch of her body as she
giggled and kissed his neck and ear.

I
glanced over at Kevin who seemed mesmerized, frozen once again in her presence.
He didn’t look happy, that much I could tell.

“Ahem,”
Kevin said loudly. He was totally trying to make them stop.

Ayla
whipped around, her brown hair falling over her shoulders in slow motion, and
slowly stepped back from Antoine. Antoine’s hand still lingered on her hip. He
looked annoyed at the interruption.

I
couldn’t believe Kevin had done that. I would’ve been fine just ignoring them
and hurrying into the refuge of his apartment. They never would’ve even seen
us. It would’ve been fine. I thought we were having such a lovely night, too.

Kevin
slipped his hands around my waist, pulling me closer to him. It was the first
time he’d really touched me all night. Now he was acting like we were a couple
or something. Were we? I was so confused.

“Ayla,
Antoine,” Kevin said as he stood next to me. He slipped his hands all the way
around my waist, locking them together.

“We
were just on our way,” Ayla said. “Come on, Antoine.”

Ayla
grabbed Antoine by the hand. He didn’t even look at me. Not even once. They
left the building in a hurry, practically running down the steps, and within
seconds they were out of sight.

Kevin
let us into his apartment, but by then I was seething.

“What
the hell was that about?” I asked with my hands on my hips. I hoped I wasn’t
being too girlfriend-y, but at that point I didn’t care.

“What
do you mean?” He played dumb.

“Why’d
you interrupt them?” I asked. “And then put your hands all over me. What kind
of sick, twisted
game are
you trying to play?”

He
shook his head, acting like he hadn’t the slightest clue what I was talking
about, and kicked his shoes off.

“Want
some pie?” he asked as he tried to change the subject.

I
wondered if I was nothing more than a pawn to him. Maybe he did date Ayla
before. Maybe he was in love with her. Maybe he was an obsessed fan. Maybe he
was just using me to make her jealous.

I
stood in his doorway, not bothering to remove my shoes. I wasn’t sure if I was
even going to stay.

“Pie?”
he asked as he nodded towards the kitchen.

“I
should probably go home,” I said. “I think I have a headache or something.”

He
stood dumbfounded as I flung the door open and slammed it behind me.

“What
the hell, LaLa?” I said to her over breakfast Saturday morning. I’d gotten up
early that
morning,
unable to think or relax enough to
even sleep in. I sat out in the living room and waited for her to get back from
Demarius’s. The moment she walked in, I pounced on her and made her sit down
and talk to me.

“Good
morning to you too?” LaLa said, confused.

“I
have to talk to you now,” I said. “It can’t wait. You’re never here anymore,
and I don’t have anyone to talk to. You’re my voice of reason, and you’re never
home.”

LaLa
laughed. “Sorry?”

She
took a seat next to me on the couch.

“Okay,
calm down,” she said. “I assume this either has to do with Antoine or Kevin?”

“Kevin,”
I said. “I thought things were going so well, but he’s so hot and cold with me.
He says he wants to take things slow, but then he makes all these plans with me
and sends me flowers and stays over and makes me dinner.”

“Typical
asshole guy. Just doesn’t know what he wants,” she said. “Maybe he’s stringing
you along until something better turns up? No offense. Some guys do that, you
know.”

Good
old LaLa. I could always count on her to tell it like it was.

“Then
why put all the effort into it?” I said. “It’s exhausting sometimes.”

“Maybe
he likes you but he’s afraid to get hurt?” she proposed. “It could be anything.
Why don’t you just ask him?”

“I
have!” I practically yelled at her, though my anger was clearly misdirected.
“He either plays dumb or he has an explanation for everything.”

LaLa
pursed her lips. “Maybe you should just cut your losses and go your own ways.
Why waste all this time with him if he’s so hot and cold?”

“Because
I like him,” I said. “Aside from all the bullshit, I really like him. He’s a
gentleman. He’s thoughtful. He’s smart. And he’s so fucking hot.”

LaLa
threw a throw pillow at me. “Then why even ask for my advice?”

“I
don’t know,” I mumbled. “I guess I just hoped you’d see it differently, maybe
in a better light.”

“You’re
asking the wrong girl,” LaLa laughed. “You know I don’t spin things that way.”

“I
know,” I sighed, squishing the pillow into my lap. “Everything is always going
so well between us until Ayla Giovanni is factored in. It’s like we run into
her or we talk about her, and that’s when the fights happen. She’s the
problem!”

“Yes,
yes. Blame everything on Ayla,” LaLa said as she rolled her eyes. “Ayla stole
Antoine, and now she’s ruining your relationship with Kevin.
Of
course.
It makes perfect sense.”

“No,
I’m serious,” I said with big, round eyes. “If I bring her up or if I talk
about how he acts all weird around her, we fight. He closes up. He changes the
subject. He acts like I’m being ridiculous or something.”

“Ah,
I see,”
LaLa
said. “There’s got to be something going
on between them. They must have a history together. People don’t act that way
around people they don’t personally know. You’d be naïve to think otherwise.”

“I
know,” I said. “That’s what I was afraid of. But I’ve asked him, and he says he
won’t talk about his past girlfriends. He won’t confirm or deny ever having
been involved with her. How do I find out?”

“Straight
from the horse’s mouth,” LaLa replied as she sat up straight. She handed me my
phone that was sitting next to her on the coffee table. “Call Ayla. Ask her to
coffee. Get the dirt from her. She has no reason to lie about it, right?”

My
mouth went dry at the thought of going behind Kevin’s back and contacting Ayla
to find out if they ever dated. I was encroaching upon crazy girlfriend style
behavior, something I swore I’d never do, but I had to know. I had to find out.

“Would
you do this?” I asked LaLa. “If it involved Demarius?”

LaLa
sat back for a minute and pursed her lips as she thought about it.

“Depends
on how much I like the guy,” she said. “I like Demarius a lot. I think I’d want
to know.”

I
reached over and grabbed my phone, fingers a little shaky, and texted Ayla
asking if she wanted to meet up for coffee in a little bit. I threw my phone
across the bed as soon as the message was sent. As much as I didn’t want to
spend time with her, it was going to be the only way I’d find out what the hell
was going on.

“What
if Kevin finds out about this?” LaLa asked. “I mean, I think you should still
do it, but what would you say to him?”

“That’s
easy,” I said. “I’d tell him it was casually brought up in conversation.”

“Makes
sense,” she replied. “Your phone just went off.”

Ayla
had responded almost right away, and I was shocked.

“She
wants to meet up in a half hour. She’s got a busy day today,” I said as I read
her message.

“Better
get ready,” LaLa laughed.

I
flew off the bed and began rifling through my closet to find something
appropriate to wear. I threw my hair in a top knot, slicked on some tinted
moisturizer, mascara and red lipstick, popped on some black, Audrey
Hepburn-style sunnies and was out the door.

Ayla
was already at the café when I got there, and of course she was already sipping
a steaming cup of coffee and flipping through her phone.

“Hi,”
I said as I plastered the biggest smile on my face. I had to play extra nice
that day if I wanted her to open up to me.

“Hey,”
she said with a tepid smile.

I
ordered my drink then sat down next to her.

“So
what’s this about?” she asked. She clearly wasn’t one to beat around the bush.

“Oh,”
I replied, taken off guard. “I was just bored and wanted someone to get coffee
with.”

I
was a horrible liar, and I knew it.

She
glanced down at her watch. “I have to be back at the station in a half hour.
Just so you know.”

“I
didn’t realize you were on weekends,” I said as my coffee was finally delivered.

“Just
this weekend. Filling in for someone.” She raised her mug to her lips, which I
then noticed were shellacked with thick, fuchsia lipstick. Her foundation was
caked on as well. She had definitely taken time out of her morning to leave the
station and meet me here, and she didn’t have to do that.

“I
love your dress,” I said as my eyes were mesmerized by the swirls of bright
colors that seemed to play off her tan skin just perfectly.

“Thanks,”
she said as she stared off. “Vintage Pucci. It was my mother’s.”

“Nice,”
I said. I could only imagine the closet she’d have inherited from a supermodel
mom.

“So,”
I said, sipping steamy liquid from my cup. “I have a random thing to ask you
about.”

Her
body turned towards me, and she was engaged for once. “Nothing’s random.”

“This
is going to seem really weird,” I said as a sheepish smile formed across my
lips. “Do you and Kevin know each other?”

Her
face suddenly went from bland and unexpressive to twisted and curious.

“Yeah,”
she said as her eyes squinted a bit. “Did he not mention that to you?”

“No,”
I replied. I could feel my face getting red and my insides starting to burn
hot. “He didn’t.”

Ayla
tossed her shiny, brown hair over her shoulder and cocked her head back,
cracking a sinister smile.

“We
dated,” she said. She licked her lips before adding, “He was sort of obsessed
with me after I dumped him.”

I
felt like I’d been sucker punched right in the gut. I had suspected that to be
the case, but I never thought about how I’d feel if I found out it was really
true.

“How
long did you two date?” I asked.

“Not
long at all,” she said. “Maybe three or four months. He just wasn’t my type.”

I
wondered how Kevin could not be someone’s type. He was gorgeous. He was smart.
He was a freaking detective. It didn’t get much hotter than that. Just thinking
about those lips and those broad shoulders and that lush head of hair kept me
up all night some nights. And he had manners to boot. He was the total package.

“He
was fine at first, but then he just sort of creeped me out,” she said. “Like he
knew things about me that I’d never told him.”

“Yeah,
but don’t you think this day and age that’s pretty common?” I replied, sticking
up for him. I refused to believe Kevin was any sort of creep. “You can find out
anything about anyone on the
internet
.”

“I’m
not talking about addresses and phone numbers,” she replied. “I’m talking about
what I’d had for breakfast or who I’d had lunch with that day. It just got to
be too much.”

I
felt sick as the coffee sloshed around in my unsettled stomach. This was not
good.