I press a finger to my chin, pretending to think.
He lifts an arm and smells his armpit. “Am I funky or something? What’s the problem?”
This has me giggling in my hands.
“I mean, come on. It’s a date with me. That’s nothing but a good time. And you won’t regret it.”
The way he says it makes my pussy throb. I look away, my cheeks hot and unable to stop the emotions swooping and dipping around in the pit of my stomach like a hang glider.
Maybe he’s right. I’ll give him that. This could be exactly what I need. A release. And don’t I deserve that?
Yes.
“I’m not letting you renege on this date,” he continues as if hearing my thoughts battling with themselves. “Besides, this would be the second time my plan didn’t fall through.”
“What plan?” I scoff.
“The plan to ask you out on a date.”
“You never asked me the first time.”
“You didn’t give me a chance,” Othello murmurs.
I roll my eyes, but there is a smile on my face.
“So, what do you say? Want to take a chance with me?” he asks.
I let out a breathy laugh. “Alright. Yes. I’ll go on a date with you.”
And this time, I meant it.
7
without dessert
MARLEY
I textmy mother as soon as I land to let her know I’m safe, then I FaceTime Lo. “I’ve arrived,” I sing out gracefully when she answers.
“Perfect. Let me see the sights.”
I scoff. “There are none yet. I’m still at the airport, waiting for my driver Andy said would be here 15 minutes ago.”
Frustrated, tired, and hungry, I tighten my grip on my cell phone and look up and down the street for a sleek town car. The airport is a mess of vehicles and travelers.
I stroll down the swarming sidewalk in hopes that I will see my chauffeur holding a sign with my name on it.
No luck.
“My goodness,” Lo groans. “Do you think Andy got the times mixed up? She’s been having pregnancy brain lately.”
“I don’t know. I called her before I called you, but there was no answer. I just know I need food and a warm bed.”
I glance at the time on my phone, wondering how much longer I should wait before calling my assistantagain,orjust getting a rental car and driving myself to the resort. I’m definitely not in the mood to drive, but catching a shuttle van with several strangers isn’t on my agenda either. According to GPS, the resort is about 2 hours from the Kahului airport.
Goodness me.
“Besides the late chauffeur, how was your flight?” Lo asks, carrying a brown paper bag full of groceries into the home she shares with her mother.
