Seven Days in June by Tia Williams

Chapter 21

What a Coincidence

EVA WAS WAY TOO FRUGAL TO HAVE A HABIT OF UBERING. BESIDES, SHE LIVEDright by the Q train. But tonight, she didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything except getting to Shane.

Cece had agreed to watch Audre for the night. She was only too happy to spend the night with her favorite faux niece, but on one condition: Eva had to vow to attend her party tomorrow. “You know, just an insidery get-together to celebrate the Littie Awards.” With a rushed “Anything you want, of course, yes, I’ll be there,” Eva agreed and zipped out the door.

Eva was barely cognizant of what she was agreeing to. She had only one thought in her brain.

I need him, she thought while ordering a thirty-seven-dollar Uber. Need him, she thought while racing over the Manhattan Bridge and through downtown. Need, need, need, she thought while flying up the stairs at 81 Horatio Street.

It was 9:45 on a warm, weirdly windy Friday night—far from yesterday’s glaring heat and her fight with Shane. Horatio was quiet, but she could hear the distant revelry of rich recent grads cocktailing and carousing at the outdoor Biergarten on Washington.

But here, in front of James Baldwin’s ostentatious peacock-blue door, the darkness was so complete she felt like it might swallow her whole. Heart thundering in her chest, she leaned against the door’s smooth surface, forehead-first, palms flat. She allowed herself a few deep, cleansing breaths, just to dull the thudding in her head, which had been threatening to explode since she’d hung up on Lizette.

And then, for the second time in two days, Eva knocked on this door.

But this time, she pounded. And Shane opened it right away.

She could barely see beyond him. There wasn’t a light on in the house. Just darkness upon darkness. But she saw him, breathtaking in front of her. Tall, strong, solid. Hers.

Eva met his eyes, and something jolted inside her.

“I know everything,” she said, wanting to sound pulled-together, but the hitch in her voice betrayed her.

“Come in.”

She didn’t budge. She had to say what she’d come here to say. And it spilled out of her like a flood.

“My mom told me. And you were young and scared and trying to be tough—and I promised you that you’d never go back. I promised. And she sent you back.” She gulped dryly. “Shane, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I said yesterday. I’m sorry for blaming you for all these years. For hating you. I hated you so much.”

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “Just come inside.”

“No, listen. I hated you only because…” Eva paused. “It was because loving you wasn’t an option.”

Shane averted his eyes, his jaw clenched.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “Why?”

“I couldn’t,” he said. He looked years younger, vulnerable.

“There’s so much I need to know.”

“Later.”

“But…”

Shane grabbed her by the front of her dress and pulled her inside the shadowy foyer. He slammed the door and pressed her back against it. The only light came from the moon, dimly shining through the open bay windows across the apartment.

Disoriented, Eva blinked. She was acutely aware of everything: his scent, his rugged scruff, his crumpled tee, the line of his biceps, his eyes. Shane overwhelmed her. She was dizzy with him.

With a groan, Shane smashed his mouth against hers, kissing her into the door.

He tangled his hand in her curls, pulling her head back to deepen the kiss. Over and over they savored each other, their kisses hot and hungry.

“Fuck,” he said. “You’re here.”

“I’m here.”

Mouth open on her neck, he slipped his hand beneath her short, gauzy slip dress and slid it up her inner thigh. Possessively, he squeezed the soft skin there. She went liquid.

“Tell me what you want,” Shane rasped into her ear.

She wanted him all over her, his scent, his mouth, his tongue, his hands, him. She wanted him to mark her so she’d never remember anyone else. “Just want you. Everywhere.”

Shane grabbed her hand and dragged her through the darkness to the bedroom. The wind picked up again, rattling the massive windows and howling against the building.

Between broken kisses, they stumbled blindly into the moon-dappled bedroom. There was a rumpled, rainy-day sexiness to the bed, a poufy duvet collapsed in Shane-shaped dents. They dropped onto it together, a tangle of limbs, pillows toppling to the floor.

Grabbing her jaw between his fingers, Shane drew Eva into a quick, filthy kiss. And then, without warning, he flipped her around.

Starting at her ankle, he ran his mouth up along the back of her calf, scratching her with his stubble, leaving a searing kiss behind her knee. She moaned, grabbing the sheets in her fists, but he kept going, planting a wet love bite just under her butt cheek and then slowly dragging his tongue up along her spine. Ravenous, Shane pushed her sweaty curls aside and sucked Eva’s neck.

“Turn around,” he directed lustily. Without thought, she did. Inching his way down her body, he slipped his hands under her ass, pulled her to his mouth, and went for it—no teasing, no buildup. The shock was delicious. She cried out. Arched her back. And then he stopped.

With a teasing smirk, he climbed up her body.

“Hi.” He grinned.

“Wh-why’d you stop?”

“Needed to kiss you.” He did, chastely, on her mouth.

“You’re the worst. Fuck me. Please. Fuck me on James Baldwin’s bed.”

Shane laughed. “This isn’t James Baldwin’s bed. You think they had Sleep Number beds in 1961?”

“Oh.” She grabbed at his arms. “Well, then fuck me on this Sleep Number bed.”

“Cum first. Then I’ll fuck you.”

Before she could think, he was avidly tonguing her again. And she was coming apart.

“Eva.”

“What?” she whimpered, riding wave after wave.

“Eva.”

“What?”

“Look at me.”

She peered down at Shane’s face, his wicked mouth on her—and oh, it was an obscene, exquisite sight. Once her eyes locked with his, Shane sank two fingers deep inside her. Gently, he hooked them in a come-hither motion, and that was it. She came, riding out every jolt.

The spike of her orgasm subsided, but her high didn’t. Despite Shane reducing her to Jell-O, Eva managed to climb on top of him. Gripping him, she carefully eased herself down. With a throaty groan, he grabbed her ass in one hand, her breast in the other, and gave up control.

“Go ahead,” he rasped, catching his bottom lip in his teeth. “Take what’s yours.”

Eva did, grinding against him, winding her hips. Their breathing went choppy, their eyes squeezed shut, he moaned her name, she went incoherent, he squeezed her tighter, and finally, the electricity sent them both over the edge.

Dazed, Shane sat up, pulling Eva toward him, wrapping his arms around her. Eva crossed her legs behind his back. And they held each other there, for who knows how long. At some point, they toppled onto the bed together, still attached.

Hadn’t they always been?

Later, she sat with Shane on the terrace floor, overlooking a hidden garden in the backyard. The night had turned cool, so they were wrapped in an oversized beach blanket.

“This week,” she started. “Is it history repeating itself?”

“History doesn’t repeat itself,” said Shane. “But it rhymes.”

“Who said that? Nas?”

“Mark Twain.”

“Mmm,” she said. “Great philosophers, both.”

A few hours after that, they were lying horizontally across the bed. The wind had picked up again, rattling the windows. Cum-hazy after a drowsy fuck, they were tangled up together in the dark, her back sealed to his chest, his face buried in her hair. And finally, he told her what had happened that last morning in DC.

“You didn’t wake up,” Shane said in a solemn voice. “I couldn’t bring myself to slap you, like in the movies. But I shook you hard and nothing happened. You were dying. And it was my fault. I’d given you all those drugs.”

Eva pulled his hand from her breast up to her mouth and kissed it. She tucked it under her chin.

“I held you for a long time, just, you know, crying and trying to figure out what to do. Then I remembered your phone down in the kitchen. When I got it, I saw, like, thirty missed calls from your mom. So I called her.

“And I knew how it’d look when she got there. I broke into that house. I brought you there. I had prior arrests. And over the previous eight hours, I’d emptied a bottle of vodka and snorted an indeterminate amount of heroin. So yeah, I knew it’d be bad for me.”

“Why didn’t you leave?” asked Eva. “You could’ve called her, hidden somewhere, and then found me later.”

“I couldn’t leave you,” he said with finality. “And I couldn’t deny it when your mom accused me of hurting you.” He paused. “I was almost eighteen, so I was tried as an adult. But I was only locked up for two years. Good behavior.”

“You?”

“Yeah. I was different than before. I kept my head down. Didn’t start shit. Remember the mantra you gave me?”

“Yeah. Don’t fight, write.”

“It kept me safe. And I wrote Eight there.”

Eva turned to face him. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. That’s what I came to New York to say. I’m sorry I broke my promise. And I’m sorry I didn’t find you the second I was released. But by then, you’d published your first book. You were a success, and I didn’t want to ruin it. Back then, I was convinced that I ruined everything I touched.”

Eva looked at him, remembering what he’d revealed to her long ago: losing his stable, happy life with his foster parents. Blaming himself.

“After I accidentally broke my arm, and my foster mom…” He paused, jaw working. “When I survived the crash on the way to the hospital and my foster mom didn’t, I started breaking my arm on purpose. Drinking all day. And I decided that I didn’t deserve good things.”

Eva held him tight. It was all she could do. Hold him tight enough to smother that thought, for good.

Later, Shane and Eva lay in a tangle on the plush living room rug, staring up at the stained-glass window on the ceiling. Shane was on his side, tracing the planes of her face with his fingertips. Across her eyebrow, down the bridge of her nose. Cradling her face in his palms, he smooshed her cheeks together so her lips poked out. Then he stuck his finger in her dimple.

“Just say it,” Eva said with a smile.

“I’ve never said it. To anyone.”

“It won’t hurt, I promise.”

Shane grinned, a heart-stopping thing. Then laid his face on her breasts, closing his eyes.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

“I love you,” said Shane. “Dramatically, violently, and forever.”

She kissed the top of his head, smiling brighter than the sun.

“I’ve always loved you,” he whispered.

“What a coincidence,” she whispered back. “I’ve always loved you, too.”

Some indeterminate time later, Eva and Shane were eating mint gelato out of the jar, in the brightly tiled kitchen. She was perched on the island. They were each wearing a pair of Shane’s boxer briefs, and nothing else.

“…and I can’t make this movie with white characters. I couldn’t live with myself,” she said. “But I don’t know what to do. I can’t even finish book fifteen.”

“Isn’t it due next week?”

“I’ve been distracted.” She smiled, licking gelato off her spoon.

“I’m out,” he said, pretending to walk away. “I can’t be responsible for the downfall of your career.”

“Stop, you’re not,” she said, grabbing him by the waistband. “Honestly, I just can’t find the spark anymore. And all I wanna do is write my family’s story. Go to Louisiana, like we said. Research those women and write.”

“Do you realize how valuable you are?”

“Please,” she scoffed, scooping up more gelato. “To the literary community?”

“To me.”

She looked at him.

“Come with me to Belle Fleur,” she blurted out. “Audre flies to her dad’s for three months tomorrow. You don’t start teaching till late August. We have time!”

“Let’s go,” he said with a grin. “I’ll be your research assistant. Among other things.”

“Yeah?” Lasciviously, Eva licked a dollop of gelato from her bottom lip. “What else do you wanna be?”

Shane watched her. Then he plucked her off the island and turned her around so her back was against him. He slipped his hand under the elastic of her boxer briefs and slowly massaged her clit. Her head fell back against his shoulder.

“I wanna be everything,” he said, his mouth against her ear. “Wanna be the reason you light up. I wanna make you laugh, make you moan, make you safe.”

He kept stroking her as she quivered helplessly.

“I want to be the thought that lulls you to sleep. The memory that gets you off. I wanna be where all your paths end.” He nipped her earlobe. “I wanna do everything you do to me.”

He pulsed his finger then, and she came with a shuddery cry.

“You’re hired,” she breathed.

Finally, Eva dozed off in Shane’s arms just before dusk. They were on the couch, or perhaps the bed again. Later, she’d remember mumbling, “You know you’re the turtle, right? The one who comes and goes as he pleases while I wait for you?”

She never heard his answer, because she slipped off into sleep. Deep, contented, trusting.