Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124320 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Will I lose mine?
“I have to go.” I stand and spread my farewell around the table. “I’ll see you…when I see you. I got shit to do.”
Carla’s startled glance bounces from me to the stage. “But Congressman…Governor Ruiz has a speech planned. He’ll acknowledge you, bring you up on stage. We talked about this.”
Bring me up on stage. Acknowledge me. I don’t do the things I do so people can pat me on the damn back. The only thing Ruiz can do for me is keep the promises he made when he campaigned. And the only man I need to hear call my name is not in this room.
“You go,” I tell Carla, grabbing my clutch from the table. I look to Piers, Felita. “Or one of you. I don’t care.”
“You’re really leaving now?” Felita asks, a frown gathering between her brows. “The speech is later in the program. You don’t want to wait? What do we tell the governor?”
I glance at Mama, warmed by the knowing approval in her eyes, in her smile. This may be my greatest move yet.
“Tell him I waited long enough.”
I don’t know where Ezra lives.
I got off his old exit only to realize I don’t know where his new house is, or if he’s even in it. He said he was renovating a house “nearby,” but I can’t plug “nearby” into Google maps.
A lot has changed for him over the last few months, least of which may be a new house. As I predicted, his book was a huge success, hitting all the lists. I was in the thick of managing multiple campaigns, but I did see him on a few morning shows. Texted him my congrats. His book is in airports. There’s a Netflix documentary in the works about the YLA story. New baby. New book. New success.
New house?
Absent of a better idea, though I’m sure there is one, I park in front of their house. It looks like no one is home, but then the front door swings open.
“Shit.” I resist the urge to duck down behind the steering wheel like a stalker.
Aiko walks out onto the porch, hand in hand with a tall man…who is not Ezra. I recognize the guy who stood awkwardly by the door with Aiko’s luggage the day she dropped the bombshell about her pregnancy.
Chaz.
I wish I could disappear, but I just sit perfectly still, hoping my mother’s Benz will miraculously become invisible before they notice it.
“Kimba?” Aiko asks from the driveway where a car, presumably Chaz’s, is parked. “Is that you?”
Great.
I open the door and poke my head out, smiling as if it’s perfectly normal for me to be sitting outside her house dressed in formal wear.
“Hi.” My wave is as stiff as my smile. “I was just wondering if…is Ezra home by any chance?”
“He might be.” Aiko smiles, tilts her head to the side. “I can’t say for sure since he doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Oh. Right. Could you maybe…direct me?”
“Next street over.” She points to the right. “Fourth house on the left. Gray with red shutters.”
“Uh, thank you.” I smile at Chaz. “Good…seeing you again.”
His wry smile mocks us all.
I climb back in and pull away before this becomes any more cringeworthy. Ezra’s house is easy to find. The shutters are red and his Rover is in the driveway. I get out of the car and stand in January cold for a moment, searching my mind for the perfect thing to say.
“I’m ready?” I ask out loud, leaning against the car. “Sorry I took so long. Let’s do this.”
I keep trying out opening lines all the way from the car, down the driveway, up the steps and onto the porch. When I ring the doorbell, I still don’t know what I’ll say, but I know I can’t wait any longer.
“Kimba.”
Ezra’s tall frame fills the doorway. I can’t see beyond him into the house, but I also can’t tear my eyes from his face anyway. Stubble shadows the ridge of his jaw. His hair is a little longer than I’ve seen it in awhile, the coarse curls dark and springy. His eyes under the porch light – volatile blue. The emotion emanating from him, a tempest in a thumbnail, barely contained.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“Uh, sure. Yeah.” He steps back, allowing me entrance. A modern chandelier of wood and blown glass hangs from the foyer ceiling. There’s very little furniture in the sitting room off to the right – a couch and a television. A mismatched coffee table.
“You just moved in?” I ask, my question slicing through the tension.
“Few months ago. I didn’t want to choose the furniture…by myself.”
He holds my stare and I bite my bottom lip, look away. I’m always in control, but I feel completely out of my depth right now. What if he has found someone else? Even though Aiko seems to be with Chaz, who knows if Ezra remained single? He’s still staring at me, his eyes intense, alert. His posture, deceptively indolent, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. But there’s so much tension in his broad shoulders, in the tight muscles of his neck.