Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“They make the best butter chicken,” Kassim tells him.
“Did we get chicken masala?” Deja asks, fully emerging from her room and coming down the stairs.
“Yeah.” I hand her the bag. “You guys get started.”
With a quick look between Mark and me, she takes the bag, bumping Kassim with her shoulder. “Come on, freak.”
He practically skips around the corner to the kitchen ahead of her.
Boy loves him some butter chicken.
“Like I said, we’ve got plenty,” I tell Mark and slide my hands into the back pockets of my boyfriend jeans.
“I’d love to stay.” He steps closer, glancing in the direction my kids just took. “There’s only one thing I’d love more.”
He leans down to press his lips to mine, and I freeze. We’ve had a few dates. A few kisses, and though I haven’t exactly burned with passion, it was fine. Pleasant. This isn’t pleasant. After the night I spent with Josiah, this feels like a betrayal. I know how stupid that is because Josiah warned me it would never happen again. We would never happen again. And yet…Mark’s mouth presses more firmly to mine, seeking something I can’t give. Not now.
“Mark,” I mumble into the kiss and pull back. “I…no.”
His brows gather into a confused frown. “I was hoping—”
“I don’t think we should see each other again. At least, not like…that.” I lower my gaze to the small patch of hardwood floor between our feet before forcing myself to look him in the eyes again. “You’re great. You really are, but I’m not ready even for a casual situation.”
“I see.” Understanding clears the frown from his face but clouds his eyes. “Is it that I’m not the one or that he still is?”
A grin-grimace is all I can manage, his insight and straightforward question taking me by surprise. “I guess both?”
A wry grin pulls up one corner of his mouth. “You did warn me that I was first at bat, huh? Not the first time I’ve struck out. Won’t be the last.”
I search his blue eyes—intelligent and kind in his classically handsome face. He’s successful, ambitious, principled. Maybe one day I’ll regret letting a guy like him get away, but the kisses, the touches, the whispers in the dark I shared with Josiah are too fresh. My feelings for him too visceral, for me to consider anyone else right now. Apparently I need to put down these feelings for my ex before I cultivate any for someone else.
“You, Mark Lancaster,” I say, taking his hand in both of mine, “are someone’s home run.”
He nods, bending to drop a quick kiss on my head and turning to the front door. I follow, standing on the porch as he takes the steps down and heads for the Tesla in my driveway.
“Oh, and, Mark!” I call, causing him to turn just as he opens his car door. There’s disappointment and acceptance in his expression as he waits for my parting words.
“You’ve got my vote.”
A slow smile works its way onto his face. He gives me a jaunty salute, climbs into the car, and drives away.
“Mr. Lancaster didn’t want to stay for dinner?”
I turn to find Deja standing in the foyer studying me, a LaCroix in one hand, curiosity scribbled on her pretty face. Arms folded against the chill, I go inside and close the door behind me.
“No, it was time for him to go.” Sniffing the air, I walk past her toward the kitchen. “Let’s eat.”
Chapter Thirty
Josiah
How was school?” I ask Kassim as we pull out of Harrington’s parking lot.
“Good.” He turns around to pet Otis, who lounges in the back seat, before pulling out his phone. I know he’s going straight for Roblox.
“Hey. Talk to me for a minute before you get lost in that game.”
He lays the phone in his lap. “Yes, sir.”
“How’s class been? You’re not getting bored?”
“Ms. Halstead has been giving me some extra stuff to do. Like, different from the rest of the class.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Damn. I sound like a therapist. Dr. Musa would be pleased to know he’s rubbing off on me.
Kassim shrugs. “It’s okay. Some of the kids tease me, like I think I’m so smart.”
“You are so smart.”
“I don’t want to rub it in, though.”
“Good. Don’t be that guy. You’re not better than anyone else. Ms. Halstead just recognizes you need more of a challenge than the classwork was offering. She sees your potential and wants to make sure we’re doing all we can to fulfill it.”
“Yeah. Jamal says it’s kinda cool that I do stuff nobody else can do yet, and that I might get to skip a grade, as long as we can still hang out and play Madden and stuff.”
“Great,” I say, recognizing the significance of the Jamal seal of approval. “Well, let’s get that bush cut down so you can get home and do your homework.”