Page 34 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

“Ms. Armstrong?” From nowhere, the hostess appeared holding two menus.

“May I take you to your table?” It was a moment of relief for Jordan.

An invitation to stop analyzing. Except, these damn granny panties…

she thought, as she started to follow the hostess.

That panty line was not sexy, not in the way that she felt now, how she wanted to be.

It wasn’t what she wanted Harper to see as her ass swayed while she walked ahead of him.

She wanted him to see her ass work in that dress.

Her perfect curves swaying from side to side as she walked.

Dammit. Jordan knew that her ass was NOT ass-ing.

She’d done this on purpose, she had to recall.

And why again? She could just imagine what Shelby would say: Why would you do that?

I should have drawn you a diagram, she’d chastise.

Jordan wanted…no, she’d needed some amount of control.

She already knew that her grip on temperance was slipping quickly.

The walk to the table felt long, especially with a stark panty line that she hadn’t anticipated wishing would disappear.

She had tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of gorgeous lingerie.

Much of it for a night such as this one.

She had thongs and lace and demi cups that allowed her nipples to pop perfectly and her ass to sit like a shelf.

Hell, the salespeople at La Perla knew her by name.

But it was too late to escape now, to dip back and slow down to walk next to Harper instead of ahead of him.

They were already at the table. When she turned around to take her seat, just as she thought, his eyes were focused right where her hips had been.

Seated next to the window, across from one another at a quaint table for two, Jordan sighed, relaxing finally into the chair.

Harper, for his part, seemed completely oblivious to the crisis of her underwear, and the current conundrum Jordan faced in wanting to be free of the constraints she’d imposed upon herself— all of them.

What in the hell was I thinking? she questioned herself.

“Really gorgeous view,” Harper said with his head turned toward the cherry-wood-framed bay window. “I bet it’s spectacular during the day.”

“I’ll bet,” Jordan said, distracted. She already knew what the view was like during the day.

It was spectacular, just like her ass looked in its regular shape.

Fuck. It was not going down like this. Hell no.

“Hey, Harper,” Jordan called. He turned his head back to her.

No way was she going to lose his attention to the view of the ocean or any other view.

“Could you order me another sidecar? I’m just going to run to the restroom.

” Jordan gestured behind her, but she was already up and standing, bag dropped into the seat, and turning to make a quick dash.

In the bathroom stall, Jordan shimmied the hem of her dress all the way up to her hips and pulled those gotdamn big draws down to her knees and stepped out of them one foot at a time.

She contemplated flushing the loose carcass of fabric down the toilet, but she wanted to throw them all the way away, forever.

She pulled open the metal trashcan cover, the final resting place of so many other unmentionables, and dropped the wadded-up mound of cloth on the top of the tissue-wrapped tampons.

Good fucking riddance, she thought. In the mirror, even in front of the sets of curious eyes beside her, she pulled her breasts up and set them at the top of her bra, so that her nipples were perked and protruding obviously, outlined underneath the material of her bustline.

Satisfied, she puckered her lips in the mirror and reset her lipstick before heading back out the door to handle that shit like the boss she was and how it should have been handled from jump.

Back at the table, Harper was fidgety. As she approached, Jordan saw how he’d been apparently biding his time while waiting for her.

He even stood to pull out her chair. So formal, so gentlemanlike.

At least he’s not looking at his phone, she thought.

She’d set the night off on the wrong foot.

But as she sat down once again in her seat, this time feeling the chill of nighttime air tickle between her thighs, she knew what she needed todo.

A fresh version of her drink sat on the table, and Harper, with his attention fixed on her now, was looking like a snack. This is happening, she decided. Tonight. She grabbed the glass and took a big swig, pulling half the liquid into her mouth at once.

“Everything okay?” Harper looked concerned.

Jordan forced her swallow down. “Uh-huh.” She needed the liquid courage immediately. She looked at Harper directly, met his eyes, softened her voice and asked, “So, how are you doing, sir?”

His face showed the relaxed lines of sincerity as he replied, “I’m good. Really good.” And then he asked, “So, how’s that show you’ve been working on? The idea you were kicking around a while ago. The Black woman wellness thing?”

“Oh, that?” Let’s not talk about work, Harper. Jordan shrugged and moved to dismiss the topic as quickly as she could. “Still kickin’ it around. Not much to report.”

Harper leaned forward. “It’s a good idea, I mean, from what I remember.

It’s been…a while.” Oh yeah, ’cause I wasn’t fucking with you, Jordan recalled.

Harper took a sip of his Sable and cherry and seemed like he had his own hesitations.

“I…um…you know…speaking of a while, I was just…wondering…if…everything is all right?”

By now, Jordan was leaning forward, already irritated with his halting words. “All right with what?” she countered, confused.

Looking troubled, Harper continued, “All right…between you and me?”

Oh, hell no. What is he doing? Now wasn’t the time for some sentimental deep conversation to undergird their friendship.

She and Harper could go for years and not speak and still be solid.

They were solid. But tonight wasn’t about being friends.

It was about the rapidly drying walls of her pussy that should have been leading the way from the GATE.

But in the midst of her silence, Harper continued, “Look, I know you were just in New York and the past couple of months…our correspondence…it just hasn’t been the same. AndI—”

“Harper, I—” Jordan tried to cut him off.

But still he continued. “Look, I don’t mean to put you on the spot…”

Then don’t—

But Harper was undeterred. “…but we’ve been friends for so long, and been through too much just to…”

Jordan took another sip of her drink. There wasn’t much left.

But thankfully, it allowed her to watch Harper’s lips moving in his seemingly endless soliloquy, and at the same time tune him out.

There had to be some way to get them out of this soapy drama of friendship woes.

So what they hadn’t talked in a while? They were going to fix that, tonight.

For damn sure. And nothing was in the way, especially not those panties, and certainly not anyone or anything ruining the mood.

Not even Harper himself. Mercifully, the waiter appeared and introduced himself, stopping Harper in the middle of his sappy flow.

“I see you two already have drinks. How do you feel about food? Are you ready to order?”

Harper pulled up the menu and after a few seconds of looking at it gazed back at her. He had his readers on, looking sexy. Jordan bit her lip and squeezed her legs together. It was hard staying in the seat. It was hard looking at him. It was…

“You want to split a couple, J?” Was he talking to her? About food?

“Yeah, uhh, sure,” Jordan managed to reply.

“This is your spot….” My spot? “So, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands….” Harper set the menu down and looked at her expectantly. Oh, he wants me to order, she realized. Naked beef. How about that…?

“How about I tell you guys about the specials tonight? Give you a bit more time to decide.” Harper nodded.

And the waiter began listing a litany of food items that would have sounded delicious on any other night.

Come on, J, you gotta make a move, Jordan’s inner voice urged.

“…Crispy okra with ponzu sauce, garlic prawns with sesame noodles…and a crab fried rice…” the waiter continued.

Jordan took a deep breath. Now , Jordan. It was urgent. She set the menu down with a snap on the table. “Um, sorry, can you give us a minute?” The waiter looked surprised but stopped his recitation and then promised to circle back.

“I definitely want to try that truffle salmon,” Harper began. “Wanna split it…?”

“Yep,” Jordan replied without hesitation. “Let’s split.”

“Cool. Anything else you want to order…?”

“No, I mean, let’s go. Let’s get out of here.”

“Now?” Harper looked startled, but Jordan was already pushing her chair back.

“Now.”

“Everything all right?” Harper said, standing up now, dropping his folded napkin on the tabletop.

“Yep. I…need some air,” Jordan said, but she was already walking toward the door, ass swerving right to left, just like it was supposedto.