Page 53 of My Beautiful Sin

“Not to worry,” Brandy says. “And we’ll get drinks after the movie, so don’t expect to see me back until at least one or two. Right?”

Beside her Christopher nods as Brandy gives me a supportive hug. I know it costs her something not to ask me for more details about what’s going on. But I also can’t deny that I’m glad she’s leaving. Right now, I want only Devlin, and the fact that Brandy understands that is another reason why she’s my bestie.

“Cocoa?” Devlin asks as the door closes behind them.

“What?”

“It’s one of my quirks,” he confesses. “When I’ve had a shitty day, I like to drink cocoa.”

I feel the smile tug at my mouth. “In that case, by all means.” He takes my hand and starts to settle me on the sofa that’s a few feet away from where the kitchen opens into the living room. I shake my head, wanting to be able to see him and talk to him. So I shift our trajectory toward the kitchen island’s bar. Then I settle on a stool and watch as he goes into the kitchen and starts to open and close all of Brandy’s cabinets and drawers, finally ending up standing in the pantry looking more than a little befuddled.

“You don’t look like you do this very often.”

“Au contraire. I’m a man of many skills. This, however, isn’t my pantry. And despite the fact that your roommate makes damn good muffins, she apparently isn’t a connoisseur of fine cocoa. She does however have little paper packets. He pulls out a brand of powdered cocoa mix and shakes it. “Remind me to give her hell for this,” he says. “I mean, fake marshmallows? That’s just wrong.”

Now my smile bubbles out into a laugh, and right then, I’m so damn grateful to Lamar for having sent for Devlin that I’m almost on the verge of tears again. I look down, not wanting him to worry about what are actually happy tears, and only look back up when I’m sure I have myself under control.

He’s staring at me, his brow knit with concern.

“It’s all good,” I assure him. “I’m laughing at this unexpected domesticity.”

“I’m a man of mystery.”

I make a scoffing noise. “Yes. You are definitely that.” I sit comfortably and watch him fill the kettle and heat the water, and then, with more aplomb than the making of powdered cocoa requires, he pours it into one of the fancy china cups he finds in the cabinet above the refrigerator.

He gently plates it on the matching saucer, then opens a box of Oreos and puts two beside the cup. “Is there anything else madam requires?”

My lips twitch, but I answer serenely. “No, thank you. That will be all.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it.” He starts to turn away.

“Don’t you dare go. Aren’t you having cocoa too?”

“As m’lady wishes.” He makes himself a cup with the still-hot water and comes to sit beside me at the bar. “Would you rather go to the sofa?”

I shake my head. “No. I like it here. This is where I sit when Brandy and I talk. It feels...” I trail off not sure what the word is. Not domestic? Homey? That’s not what I mean either. “Right,” I finally say with a shrug. “I guess it feels right.”

He reaches over and brushes his thumb over my cheek. “As far as I’m concerned, baby, everything feels right when I’m with you.”

I don’t realize that I’ve started to shed tears until I taste the saltiness with my cocoa. “Thank you for turning around a really shitty day.”

“Do you want me to ask what happened?”

I blink. “Lamar didn’t tell you?”

“Only that you needed me. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Part of me does, and part of me doesn’t.” I take a sip of cocoa to give me time to think. “But you came all this way, you deserve to know.”

“No, that’s entirely up to you. You can tell me when you’re ready, or never.”

I take a sip of cocoa, then nibble at the Oreo, not breaking it apart because to me that just seems wrong. Why invent a sandwich cookie if they want people to take them apart? It’s not like I take apart tuna fish sandwiches. Or peanut butter. The whole thing reeks of strangeness.

I tell that to Devlin, who nods with exactly the right amount of gravity. “Even so,” he says, then proceeds to take apart his cookie and scrape off the frosting with his teeth.

“And here I thought I respected you,” I say sadly, before taking a full, proper bite of my Oreo. Crumbs fall into my lap, and I wipe them off, then take another sip of cocoa.

I’m stalling, of course, but it’s a nice kind of interlude. And when Devlin reaches over and takes my hand, it’s as if he’s turned a key inside me. I’m ready to talk now, but only so long as he’s touching me. Sharing his strength with me.