Page 49 of When There Was You
Shaking off the memory, I squeeze my thighs together and retrieve my paperback before I orgasm in my seat. Although reading Sidney Sheldon won’t help matters. He packs the heat in his novels (and the dudes are always hung), but it’s all I’ve got.
Kendra’shuge brown eyes light as I regale her with the details of my trip. I can’t contain my enthusiasm about my potential new job, obvious swooning over my dalliance with Butch, and renewed motivation to stop sulking, waiting,existing,and start living.
She wraps me in a hug. “This makes me so happy, pumpkin.” She pulls back, still holding my arms. “Your spark is back.”
I smile at her tenderly, my eyes stinging. Because now I know, after finally seeing it for myself.
Kendra purses her lips in her signature way. “Even if it means you moving across the damn country.”
We share a laugh.
“It would be major,” I say. “But a good thing.”
She nods, fighting her own tears. “I know, Jacqui, and I sincerely hope it works out for you.”
My grin broadens.
“And who knows? Maybe you’ll run into this Butch character again.” She gives me a devilish smile.
I wish.
The intercom buzzes with our Chinese food delivery. Kendra grants the person entry and waits at the door. I switch on the TV, landing on a Pirates vs. Cubs game and scouring the screen for our friend Terry, who was drafted by Pittsburgh after college.
Kendra returns, pulling out white cartons filled with steaming, aromatic dishes and setting them on the coffee table.
“This okay?” I ask, knowing her breakup with Terry still hurts, even years later. She loved him deeply…and if anyone understands, it’s me.
She nods, and we settle in to watch Terrence Walker play Major League Baseball.
I snag two pork dumplings and put a heaping spoonful of rice topped with Szechuan chicken on my plate.
Terry comes up to bat with two outs and no men on base. The Pirates are behind by one run. He takes a strike, narrowly avoids getting pegged by a wayward pitch, ignores a ball, then hits a fastball, sending that sucker into left field near the foul line. We squeal as he makes it to second.
There’s nothing more beautiful than watching Terry steal bases. I chant,“Get a hit, get a hit, get a hit”under my breath as the next player steps into the batter’s box.
He singles, advancing our boy to third.
Tension’s high now, and I can’t eat one bite until this inning plays out.
“Damn that man for looking so good,” Kendra murmurs as Terry crosses home plate.
I chuckle. “Always was a handsome motherfucker.”
She rubs her palms against her thighs with a forceful exhalation. “I miss him.Still.Which is just stupid. I doubt he gives me a second’s thought, and he’s probably been with a thousand women by now. Being a baseball staras fine asthat”—she waves her hand at the TV—“has surely opened a lot of legs.”
She’s right, but I don’t confirm it aloud, settling for giving her forearm a squeeze.
“I really thought we’d get married,” she whispers, her eyes glassing.
“Your grand love story has yet to be revealed, my friend. You’re not only a stunningly gorgeous woman, but you are the kindest soul I’ve ever met. Fuck Terry for squandering that. He doesn’t deserve you.”
Just like Mick Callahan doesn’t deserve me.
Kendra casts me a grateful glance.
We both may understand the heavy toll of loving our respective men, but it’s another matter for the heart to let them go.
Twenty-Nine
