Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“So that phone call you heard me on, sweetheart, was me tryna pay homage to a woman, my teacher, who was like a mama to me because I needed that. Mine was gone. I had Aunt Angel, God rest her soul, but I wanted my real mama… A thing like that changes a man.” His eyes darkened before he briefly closed them, hiding them from her. “Anyway, I want to do this tribute for Mrs. Florence but first, I need some more information.”
“How did Mrs. Florence pass away?” She grabbed his glass, drained it, and slammed it down on the table.
“Mrs. Florence died of cancer, and I and my two best friends that you’ve heard me mention a time or two were all real close to ’er. We all made her a promise. They fulfilled theirs, and now it’s my turn at bat.”
“What promise did you make?”
“I’m not ready to discuss that.”
She nodded in understanding. “Is that why she’s haunting you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why not just do it so she’ll go away if this situation troubles you so much?” It seemed easy enough in her mind.
“It isn’t that simple.” He crossed his ankles, bent down, and wiped a smudge off his shoe with a napkin. “If you are who I think you are, meanin’ the woman I’m supposed to be with—” Her eyes bucked. “Calm down.” He patted her thigh and offered a trustworthy smile. He had great control over his outward movements and appearances, so much it was almost scary.
They call folks like that psychopaths…maybe sociopaths? One of the two.
“I know it sounds intense. We’ve only been on one and a half dates and have spoken on the phone fewer than six times, but my gut, as you’ve mentioned, tells me you’re more than a person I am to experience for a season. My point is, if you are ‘the one’,” he put his fingers up in a gesture denoting quotes, then you’re going to know everything soon enough. Time will tell. Time tells everything, eventually.”
“Well, sir, time is tellin’ me that you’re movin’ too fast. ’Nother red flag.”
She was messing with him. Toying with him. She knew what he was trying to say. It wasn’t that he was rushing this but simply saying that if it was meant to be, he’d know soon enough. In fact, she’d be lying if she hadn’t wondered, for a fraction of a second, if he might be the one, too. But then her reasoning skills and skepticism crept in.
He’s not living here, and I’m not moving any time soon. He’s too secretive. He has other women.
All of those thoughts were valid, in need of exploration. They would either be answered or put to rest, but they didn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that she knew him on a deeper level.
“I’m not movin’ too fast,” he said in a nonchalant manner, working on his cigar. “If I’m supposed to have you, then I’ll have you.”
“I’ll take that second drink after all.” She picked up her glass and handed it to him.
He leisurely got to his feet, casting a shadow across the candlelit table, then made his way through the crowd on the ship. He towered over most people. A man’s man. A woman’s source of licentious candy. Reaching into her small gold clutch purse, she pulled out a pen and a small pad of paper. When he returned with her drink, she handed it to him. He stood there, his hand in his pocket, sporting a smirk while she picked up her cigar that rested next to his in the ashtray and took a long drag.
“This is me.”
“It is.”
“You drew this in the four to five minutes I was away gettin’ your drink?”
“I did.”
“It looks like me.”
“I know it does.”
“Maybe you can do a few illustrations for my publication.”
“Not for free. I don’t care how much I like you. Artists have to eat, too.”
He chuckled at that. “I’d never ask you to work for free.” He turned the picture to check it out from all angles. “Yeah, I could see that for some articles, illustrations could really work.” He studied it a bit longer, then slipped it into the same pocket where his phone was and sat back down. They spent the next hour kissing and laughing, listening to a live band, and having coffee, and an assortment of small desserts.
“How about we go back to my place after we dock and spend the rest of our night together?” he asked, looking into her eyes. He kissed her once again before she could answer… as if to give her another sample of what was to come.
“…It’s late.” She kissed him back, wrapping her arms tight around his neck and drawing him closer to her.
“Not for us. For us, the night has just begun…”
Chapter Twelve
Caspian flicked on the hallway light of the townhome he was renting for the next month or so. He’d vacated the Airbnb when he felt the owner was being far too intrusive, calling relentlessly about parties that weren’t happening, having a strange friend of hers pop over to check out the place for incidental things, with no call in advance, and asking him to not leave after a certain hour of night. Crazy shit. He’d checked the place thoroughly for cameras and found none, but the endless nagging had to end. Privacy and space were something he required. It wasn’t an option, and that stood for all aspects of his life.