Page 37 of Quiet as Kept

“I’ll handle it in the morning. It’s not supposed to stain. It’s supposed to be a performance fabric.”

I rooted around the bed swing until I found her tank top. I helped her pull it over her head. She did the same for me, turning my T-shirt to the right side before helping me slip it over my head. Once my shirt was on, I couldn’t help pulling her to me and kissing her lips. She was so fucking thoughtful.

She put her panties and shorts back on while I finished dressing.

“While I was looking around the house for you, I saw a pallet on the floor in your family room.” She lightly bumped me with her shoulder. “You know you don’t have to sleep on the floor. All that queen-sized bed in my room and only me to sleep in it.”

“You just want more dick.” I picked her up from the bed swing bridal style then threw her over my shoulder. She yelped before giggling. I smacked her on the ass and carried her into the house.

After spending a good part of the night having sex with Xarielle, I managed to get a few hours of sleep. I was up early though. The last thing I wanted was for somebody to catch us together then judge her. She was a stellar fucking employee. I didn’t want anybody treating her like she earned the job on her back.

I grabbed swim trunks from the laundry room, changed into them, and hit the pool in time to watch the sunrise from the water. After my swim, I trotted up the stairs and dipped into the hallway bathroom. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, showered, and dressed. I was on my deck by the time movement started inside the house.

The door leading to the deck opened and shut with a soft thud, then her voice floated across the open space to me.

“Still getting up early to watch the sun come up. Some things never change.” Jayla walked over. A short lace robe covered her night attire and fluffy slippers were on her feet. She took a seat at the dining table with me.

Her back was to the water while I faced it. She never cared about the water one way or another. That probably should’vebeen an immediate red flag. I needed the water. It was like a life source for me.

“Kept?”

I moved my eyes from the beauty of the horizon and met hers. I raised my eyebrows quizzically.

“Are you happy?”

I fought not to sigh. All I could do was hope that she wasn’t about to hit me with some bullshit about reuniting. I wasn’t interested. I’d spent enough time beating myself up for choosing a woman that was everything that I’d promised myself I would avoid—a carbon copy of Vivienne—physically beautiful but vapid. The only difference between the two was that Vivienne liked to party, and Jayla liked to shop.

“I’m cool.” My response was short. “Are you happy?”

I asked the question already knowing the answer whether Jayla was willing to cop to it or not. I’d never really known Jayla happy. She wasn’t happy when I met her. She wasn’t happy while we were together, and she didn’t appear to be happy now.

“I thought I would be. I thought what was missing was Ahmed and the lifestyle he was promising . . . travel, seeing the world, shopping, living without limitations. But that shit was smoke and mirrors. Ahmed doesn’t love me. He goes on month-long business trips to the Middle East and leaves me alone in the flat in London. I think he probably has a family in Abu Dhabi. Like a whole wife and kids. He runs around on me with blonde, white girls.” She wiped at the tears that formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I walked away from my daughters for him, and he plays in my face. The level of disrespect is . . .” She let her thoughts trail off.

“Damn, I hate that for you, Jay. You ever thought about leaving him? About packing your shit and moving back to the States?”

“Honestly?” She pierced me with her gaze. “Honestly, I think about it all the time. I’ve thought about reaching out to you so many times, Kept. Just to feel you out and see if the feelings were still there.”

“The feelings of what?”

She choked on her tears.

“Kept.” She whined my name.

My sigh was heavy and filled with reluctance to even entertain the conversation.

“Today is your daughter’s fourth birthday?—”

“I know that!” she snapped, cutting me off.

“Concentrate on her.”

I stood from the table and walked into my home. With my parents in my bedroom, there was nowhere for me to chill out or hide until it was time for the party. As I stormed out of the kitchen, my hand was grabbed and fingers threaded through mine.

“Come here.” Xarielle didn’t say anything else. She just pulled me into her bedroom.

Eleven

Xarielle