Missionary Position (34 page)

We’d made love. We’d fucked.

I loved both.

Tonight we went slow. Each time the heat between us built up, we let it ebb, savoring our connection, never wanting it to end. We rolled over and then to our sides and back, never breaking apart. Finally, we crossed the line, unwilling and unable to hold off our orgasms any longer.

When he came, he whispered his love like a prayer.

KAI LEFT IN the morning to check out of his hotel and bring his things to my house. In Ghana, we lived together in all but shared mail. Now reunited, it would have been odd for him to be anywhere but my house.

His scent, and the smell of cooking, coffee, and fresh flowers replaced antiseptic and dusty smells which first greeted my return. The house smelled of life and love.

Over omelets, made by him, we talked the talk.

“Tell me again how you came to be my guardian angel?”

“I was still in Chicago Thanksgiving weekend when Ama called in a panic. I made a few phone calls and found a room for you at the private clinic under the care of the best doctor I knew.”

“He acted very stern with me.”

“You need a stern man,” he joked, raising his eyebrows.

“No charming, more talking.”

“Okay, charming later. If you were sick enough to be hospitalized, it would be best to bring you home as soon as possible in case complications arose later. I booked a ticket for you and had Ama arrange to get you to the airport. At that point, I feared if you realized I was involved and pulling strings, you’d refuse any help at all. I also knew you wouldn’t say no to Ama.”

“Devious.”

“And true. Especially after the delightful speech you gave me over the phone about not needing me.”

I lowered my head and poked at my omelet with my fork. “I was wrong,” I said softly.

He lifted my chin with his finger. The lines around his eyes deepened with amusement. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”

“I was wrong about not needing you. Apparently, I did.”

“Did?”

“Do.” I grinned at him. “No way can I make my own omelets.”

“Are you okay with needing me?”

I exhaled and paused. “Yes, I think so. Maybe. But it will take a big adjustment, huge. I’ve been on my own since college. You can’t crash into my life and not expect some collateral damage or unforeseen meltdowns over inconsequential things.”

“Like leaving the toilet seat up?’

“Exactly.” I laughed. “For the record, my ass hits toilet water once, and you’ll be in big trouble.”

“Noted.”

“Most of all, even more than my newfound ability to admit I need you, is the overwhelming longing I have for you. It scares me.”

“It scares me, too,” he admitted. “But we’ll navigate it together.”

“By having a lot of sex?”

“That will probably help, yes.”

“Now?” I asked, eyeing the table.

Turned out, my kitchen table had the right height and support for many different activities besides eating or reading the paper.

Over the next several days, Kai apologized multiple times for worrying me when he went off the grid, even showing me which satellite phone he’d ordered online. I accepted his apologies, knowing he would leave me again and again if we had a life together.

A life together.

The concept was strange, but I smiled imagining our future.

Ours.

There was the O word, and I didn’t mean orgasm.

More than half of my life had been filled with I and mine. Now there was a we. And ours. Or at least the potential for it.

Kai still planned to fly home to Amsterdam for Christmas, stopping through Chicago to pick up Cibele. I had my family to appease in California.

The new year would return Kai to Portland and to me.

One rainy afternoon, we sat on the floor of my living room, festooning a Noble Fir Kai had brought home.

“Explain to me what happened at Gil’s house when I hid in the mistletoe-free zone of the kitchen?”

“When I almost punched that old man in the tweed jacket for kissing you?”

Laughing, I threw popcorn at him. “You did not!”

“I thought about it. Instead, I glowered at him from across the room in a threatening manner.”

I munched on pieces of popcorn.

“Are you stringing popcorn or eating it?”

“I’d rather eat it. It needs salt. And butter.” I grabbed the bowl and headed to the kitchen.

“What will you use for garland?” he asked, following me and sitting at the table.

“Who needs a garland?” I waited for the butter to melt in the microwave. “Finish your story.”

“Right. Gil introduced me to Warren Johnson, chair of the economics department.”

“I know of him and his reputation of staring at boobs.”

“Sounds like a typical economics guy.”

“Weren’t you an economics major?”

He smirked at me. “Anyway, he saw the articles about me, which made the rounds last year, and is familiar with my work.”

“Articles plural?”

“Plural. Several ran in major US media outlets.”

“They did?”

“You need to read more news and less smut, my love.”

“Smut is better for the soul.” I should have done a search for him online. Lust, love, and malaria had distracted me. “What did these articles say?”

“The usual stuff about walking away from millions to focus on micro-finance and clean supply chains for investors.”

I almost dropped the hot bowl of butter. “Millions?”

He sighed. “It’s not as if I woke up one day and gave away all of my money, but that’s how the press reported it.”

“Millions plural?”

He nodded. “With a little m, not a giant M.”

“You really are Robin Hood?”

“According to the press. Sometimes they call me the Pied Piper with the way I can convince people to do the right thing.”

I poured the butter over the popcorn.
Millionaire.
“And you’re kind of famous?”

He scratched his jaw. “I guess. Obviously not famous enough, otherwise you’d have heard of me.”

Who was this man sitting in my kitchen?

“And it never came up in conversation … because …” I asked.

“It did. In Elmina.”

“Yes, your epiphany, then I became distracted by long hair and bendy yoga images of you.”

“Whose fault is that?”

Images of a younger Kai doing bendy yoga positions filled my mind.

“Hello?” Kai waved his hand in front of me.

“Sorry.”

“Having perverted thoughts about me again?”

“Again?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re very distracting.”

“So are you with the way you’re sucking butter off your finger.”

I pulled my finger out of my mouth. “What does you being a millionaire, with a small m, have to do with Warren and Gil?”

“Warren turned fan boy on me and asked me to do a guest lecture on campus sometime in the spring semester, with an offer to teach a course fall semester.”

“Fan boy? Warren Johnson fanned over you?” I found it hard to believe.

“The conversation involved a lot of arm touching and back-slapping.”

“Okay, that’s plain weird. Are you considering doing it?”

“Doing what?”

“The guest lecture.”

“Of course. It’s another way to justify to TNG relocating my base to Portland.”

“Is being in Portland a long term thing?” I looked over his shoulder at a spot on the window.

“It could be. Lots of big money and foundations in the Northwest I could partner with or consult for. I’ll keep my place in Amsterdam, but since I’ll always travel for my work, home base can be anywhere. If you’re asking.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“You were. That’s okay. I like your need to know about my plans, and hopefully that means you want me here.”

I walked over and stood between his legs, setting the bowl of popcorn on the table next to him. “I do want you, more than I’ll ever admit.”

His hands found their place on my hips, and he pulled me closer. “I’ll always return to you.” He kissed me. “Always.”

OUR TIME TO part again grew closer and a nugget of fear settled into my belly.

I tried to smother it, but the voice that worried and created undue anxiety didn’t respond to threats. Or Christmas cookies. Emotional eating only made my pants tighter. Kai would return in less than a month. In my bones and in my breath, I knew it. Yet the voice of doubt continued its soft whispering.

I shared my thoughts with Kai while we prepared dinner for Maggie and Gil. My energy level still hadn’t returned to normal, so instead of a holiday party, it would only be the four of us. Kai volunteered to cook after my failed attempt at boxed macaroni and cheese. Apparently, you needed to set a timer or the water would boil away, leaving a soggy, gelatinous mess.

Gil and Kai hung out in the kitchen, reveling in their bromance while Maggie and I sat on the couch and eavesdropped.

“I told Quinn we’d video chat tonight. He’s dying to show us Lizzy’s latest trick and outfit,” Maggie said.

“You know his ulterior motive is to get a gander at Kai, right?”

“Of course! He’s completely transparent.”

“He’s seen pictures. Isn’t that enough?”

“For Quinn? Never. He won’t be happy until he can flirt with him in person. They’ll be on Whidbey for their annual summer visit. You two should join us. You can meet Diane, John’s girlfriend. He’s completely smitten; it’s adorable.”

“Smitten lumberjack? That I would like to see.” Kai and I hadn’t planned months into the future. I had no idea where he’d be over summer. “I’d love to be there in July.”

“Well, we’ll put it on the calendar, and that way Kai can plan around it,” she assured me.

“That feels very domestic.”

“How so?”

“Having a shared calendar and making summer weekend plans in December.”

“Welcome to life as a couple. It takes work and coordination sometimes.”

“Ugh. The work word.” I scowled.

“You can complain, but I bet you wouldn’t give it up at this point.”

Deep male laughter carried from the kitchen.

“Never.” I smiled.

THE NIGHT BEFORE Kai left for Chicago and then Amsterdam, we exchanged gifts.

He loved the sculpture I bought for him in Aburi. He rubbed her curves with the same adoration he gave mine.

Finally, I was allowed to open the shipping box, which had arrived two days earlier from Amsterdam. Inside it sat the beautiful Ashanti comb he had purchased at auction.

I gaped while I gently lifted it from the tissue. “How?”

“I remembered how much you loved it. Your eyes lit up when I showed you the catalogue.”

My brow furrowed. “You bought it for me?”

“Don’t hate me, but no. I did buy it for my father. However, when I told him about you, how we met and that I wanted to give it to you for Christmas, he sent it the next day.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I can’t accept it.”

“Why not?” He frowned. “Don’t you like it?”

“It’s too much.”

“The money?”

I nodded, swiping my errant tears.

“Selah, I want you to have it as a tangible reminder of where we began. This brought us together. Think of all the elements and powers at work to make sure you ate airport sushi, chatted to Anita, agreed to meet some crazy man, went to an auction viewing—”

I cut him off with a kiss. “It’s impossibly implausible. The whole thing.”