Her Inconvenient Groom by Niomie Roland
Chapter 20
“The nerve of those men,” Naisha huffed in exaggerated outrage as she, Chantelle and Jacyn plopped themselves down in the plush seats of the music room. They were replete with a lovely dinner and an even more delectable dessert, and it was only a matter of time before the post-dinner torpor set in.
The men had excused themselves to an anteroom just off the dining room, saying that they ‘had business to discuss’. As they left, Wiliam teased, “Why don’t you ladies spend a little time getting to know each other better?”
“It’s a wonder they don’t twirl their mustaches, break out the brandy snifters and cigars, and talk about that shipment of silk and spices due into harbor any moment,” Jacyn added, rolling her eyes.
Chantelle didn’t even try to hide her laugh. She knew damn well the other two women were only puffing up for the hell of it. It was clear that they adored their husbands, and that the feeling was mutual.
Throughout the meal, she’d found herself drawn to both Naisha and Jacyn, enchanted by their easy manner, and the way they drew her into the conversation over and over, not wanting her to feel left out. There was real chemistry here, she thought, and the idea made her happy.
She had the niggling sense that she’d seen Naisha somewhere before, and when she mentioned it, learned that she’d been a model whose face had graced many a magazine cover and countless print advertisements. She also learned to her amazement that Jacyn was the creator of Napturally Beautyfull, a line of natural hair products for women of color. “Get out!” she’d exclaimed. “I have half your range on my bathroom counter right now!”
It was even more incredible when she discovered that her assistant, Sienna and Jacyn, were longtime friends. As her grandmother would have said, small world.
She hadn’t had many friends in high school, mainly because she spent so much of her time studying, constantly aware of the pressure upon her to excel in everything. To be prepared to take up a role in the family businesses when the time came. So being in the company of women who weren’t angling for something, aiming for your throat or preparing to shiv you in the back was unfamiliar, but pleasant.
She replayed the simple kindnesses those men showed to their wives; holding out their chairs, offering to serve their meals, topping up their drinks, even offering a bite from their own plates.
How did you find love like that, she wondered. And where?
“Let them go their way,” Jacyn dismissed. “We don’t need them to have fun! Pffftt!” She reached for a remote and aimed it at the entertainment center, and the room filled with the sounds of classic old-school funk.
Willa had taken the children away to help get them ready for bed, so it was good to be just among women for a while. Chantelle felt her entire body relax.
“That’s a real babe you got there,” Naisha informed her.
Chantelle’s mind went blank. “Who?”
Jacyn screamed with laughter. “Who? What, does that beautiful man have you so dizzy with love that your brain cells are dying?”
“Your husband! Dustin!” Naisha reminded her. “That’s who!”
Oh. She felt herself go hot. They weren’t lying: throughout the meal she had the opportunity to observe how Dustin had slid comfortably into the conversation with the other men, especially when it turned from business to sports. He was charming and relaxed, and Liam and Alex appeared to like him.
She chided herself silently for being mildly surprised by the way in which he’d held his own in such unfamiliar surroundings. Especially in a place as lavish as this. What, did you think he was raised in a barn? she remonstrated to herself. You keep expecting him to underperform, and he keeps surprising you. Maybe it’s time you check your privilege and admit that class is class.
She murmured, “Yes… I guess he really is… something.”
“Dish,” Naisha leaned forward and propped her chin in her hands, a look of mischief on her face. “Where did you two meet?”
“Oh,” Chantelle thought. “It was sort of by accident… one of those things….”
Jacyn got up, went to the cabinet, and removed a bottle of liqueur and some small glasses. “Sounds like a story we need to share over a sip of Cointreau.”
Chantelle held up her hand politely. “None for me, thanks.”
Jacyn pouted. “You didn’t have wine either. Nothing but flavored water all evening. What’s up?”
Before she could answer, Naisha pointed excitedly at her, as if she’d just figured out the answer to the final question on Jeopardy. “You’re pregnant!”
The guilt on her face sealed the deal, and Jacyn set down the bottle and glasses and the two women flung their arms around her. “So cool!”
“You two are going to make beautiful babies!” Naisha predicted.
Jacyn added, “Almost as cute as mine.”
“Huh,” Naisha countered. “You mean, as mine.”
“Let’s not argue,” Jacyn said. “We both got great genes and awesome husbands and blessed the world with superstars!”
The two women high fived and then eagerly faced Chantelle again. And that was when the hailstorm of questions began. When are you due? Have you picked out names? Are you throwing up yet?
Chantelle could barely keep up with the advice and commentary, and found herself smiling happily when they suggested a shopping trip to Paris for layette. “We’ve got a girlfriend, Shaundra. You’ll love her.”
She eagerly agreed, and then spent the next hour or so talking and laughing as the subject of conversation slid away from babies and onto pretty much everything else. Chantelle hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time.
When the men emerged from whatever shenanigans they’d been up to in the other room, everyone said their goodbyes. They expressed regret that Dustin was leaving the next day, and promised to get together again as soon as he was back.
She didn’t bother to burst any bubbles by letting them know there was little chance of him being back before their marriage was terminated.
As she sat in the car next to Dustin on the way back, she realized she was humming. Dustin threw her a grin.
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. What?” she insisted.
He shook his head, giving her a long, slow look that made her squirm. “Nothing. Well, something. You look so happy tonight. So relaxed. It’s like some of the stiffness has gone out of you.”
“Stiff?” she bristled. “I am not stiff!”
“Honey, if they tied a sapling to you, it would grow straight.”
She shoved him so hard he had to struggle to keep the car in his lane. “That’s an awful thing to say!” but deep down, she knew he was right. Since coming to France, she’d found herself growing more and more relaxed. Less stressed. More blue jeans and fewer pencil skirts. She didn’t protest any further.
“First,” he said, “stop punching me. I didn’t fly all the way to France to die in a car wreck. Second,” he threw her a glance as they pulled up to the entryway of her mansion, “I’ve never seen you more beautiful than I have tonight. I wish I could always remember you that way, with your hair down, laughing with friends.”
The force of his words, and the emotion behind it, threw her for a bit. She realized she’d stopped breathing as her mind struggled to process what he’d said. Beautiful? Her? She’d never thought much about it, whether it was or wasn’t the case. Never looked at herself in the mirror seeking any such interpretation of the face she was used to.
She wished he had more to say, more to tell her, but the car was off and he was already outside her door, holding it open for her.
She walked half a step behind him, slowing even as he slowed in a bid to let her walk at his side. Almost reluctant to go indoors. Wishing they could stand outside on the grass, on this late, lovely night, and look up into the sky, rather than go back inside where everything would be normal again.
Normal and dull.
Normal and lonely.
They made it to her door, and she stood there, hands clasped before her.
He paused too, his eyes on hers. Not doing anything, saying anything. Just stood there.
And she understood, fully and completely, what was happening. The ball was in her court, and it was up to her to decide: serve it, or kick it under the bleachers and pretend it was never there.
He was leaving it all up to her.
“Dustin,” she began, surprising even herself when she realized the decision had been made.
“Hmm?”
“I…” she licked her lips. Take control, she said to herself. This is not a boardroom, but you can still be a boss. She injected more courage into her voice, more command, so he wouldn’t have an inkling about how nervous she was inside. “That offer you made. A night of pleasure; no strings attached. Do you remember?”
“I remember,” he said in a low voice.
“I want to experience our pleasure.”
Not saying anything more, he bent his head and kissed her.