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“No, just stay here,” I plead, pressing a hand over hers that she’s still gripping my wrist with.
“Okay,” she says in a worried tone as I make a beeline for the exit.
The late April night is clear, with a light chill. I pull the shimmery shrug I took from coat check tighter around me, fiddling with my evening bag as my hands shake.
I pass the valet attendants goofing off, trying to pass the time and ward off the light chill. I hear cars driving and honking horns on the road below us. Streetlights and traffic lights glow in the darkness.
The clicking of my high heels on the pavement under my feet sounds louder than I know they are. All the other sounds are drowned out between that and my pounding heart. I stop at a garden area on the side of the hotel.
With all that’s happening around me, I feel like I’m in a dream. As if this moment is so surreal.
Footsteps sound behind me, and a pathetic hope fills me inside. I try to stifle it because I know I shouldn’t be hoping for anything. That part of my life is over, but still, there’s a tiny spark there that dare flicker.
“Nia,” his deep voice calls to something deep inside me.
My eyes flutter closed, pressing and willing the tears away.
Turning around, I face him for the first time in four months.
“Kincaid,” I say so softly that I wonder if I spoke.
He’s standing close to me, too close because I can feel the warmth from his breath upon my face. Unable to stop myself, I reach out and cup his face, my fingers dancing at the memory of how smooth his skin feels and happy that nothing has changed.
Kincaid stares down into my eyes, and I see a thousand memories flash in his before he steps away from me hesitantly.
“Sorry,” I apologize.
Kincaid takes a step closer to me again, and there’s so much sorrow and yearning in his eyes that it breaks me inside.
He leans down and, without hesitation, brushes his lips across mine. His eyes remain open, pinned on me, searching for answers I never gave; answers that I owe him but cannot explain.
My eyes close as he sweeps across my lips a couple times before resting there, pressing his against mine. It’s the sweetest yet most passionate kiss I’ve ever received, but it’s all over too quickly.
He stands to his height of six-two, still towering over me even in the three-inch heels that bring me to five-five.
Kincaid shoves his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket and looks down at me with an interesting mix of resentment and desire.
“Why? Was I the only one who felt we had something special?”
“No,” I mumble.
“Then why did you lie to me? Why did you hide the truth from me?”
“I didn’t.”
“You fucking did!” he growls.
Pressing my lips tight to keep from crying, I stare at the ground.
“Fucking tell me the truth, Yesenia! I deserve an answer.”
“You do, Cade. I always wanted to give you one, but....” I break off, shaking my head.
The resentment in his eyes is full-fledged now, as it should be, blocking out the desire.
“I should have told you, but I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It didn’t matter that you are married? While I’m going down on you, making your body feel all these new sensations, or while I’m flying you up the east coast and then bringing you back down again by yacht, there was never a time for you to say,Oh, by the way, Cade, I’m married.Or what the fuck about when we were in Alta before I ever made a move?” he righteously demands.
