Page 84 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“How about you?” she said, coughing to clear the air. “What do you dream?”
I put some space between us in case I’d stepped too far. “If I were honest, I suppose what I’m doing. Writing forThe Defender.”
“It is mighty prestigious,” Gabby said, her voice returning to normal, “but something tells me that this isn’t all you want to do.”
“It’s enough for now. Truly.”
We sat in companionable silence, our bowls completely empty, the long shadows of night creeping in.
“Do you want a ride back to your hotel?”
I nodded, wanting to leave but also wanting to stay in her presence just a little longer. We disposed of our bowls and climbed into her car. We didn’t talk during the short drive. She parked just away from the hotel before shutting off the engine, but neither of us made a move to get out of the car. We sat, the air thick with things unsaid.
“Did I ever tell you about my husband, Edgar?” she asked, her voice loud in the silence.
I shook my head, keeping myself still. She hadn’t mentioned anything, almost seeming to go out of her way not to talk about him, so I hadn’t pressed. It was easy to let people keep their secrets when I had so many of my own. But when it came to Gabby, I wanted to know everything.
“Edgar was a good guy.” She smiled at his memory, still gazing out the window. “Sweet, mannerable. I’d never thought I’d find one. I never liked boys until I met him. Give me a book or a boy, and I’ll choose the book any day.” She laughed. “But Edgar wasn’t like the others. Not loud, all flash. Real gentle.
“When he died ...” She inhaled shakily. “I thought my world had fallen apart. It was pneumonia. It’s so odd how something so invisible could take him like that, attack him from inside—strong and healthy one second, gone the next. It was cruel, and on top of it, I had our son to raise. I threw myself into my work and thought it’d be enough.”
You have no idea how deeply I can relate to you.My heart hurt, knowing exactly how cruel Death could be.
“He was like my best friend,” she continued. “Even though I loved him, I always knew that it wasn’t as deep as it could be. Something was missing.”
She adjusted her grip on the wheel, staring straight ahead. I focused on the keyhole to the glove box, trying to control my breathing, hope catching in my chest. She turned to me then, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I just didn’t know what was missing.”
Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck. I held still, afraid that even the smallest disruption might halt her story. And this was one I needed to hear.
“I don’t know how to say this,” Gabby whispered. She trembled at the risk she was taking.
“Try. I’m here.”
“I like you, Jimi, but I don’t know what to do with it. Outside of Winston, you’re the best part of my day. If I’m reading a book, I’m taking notes for your thoughts. When you leave at the end of the day, I can’t help wishing you would stay longer. But I worry that I scare you.”
“Scare me? What would give you that impression?”
She smiled and slowly trailed her fingers down my arm. “You tend to jump whenever you see me.”
“I don’t do that.” I crinkled my nose because I couldn’t deny it. “Perhaps it’s because I am scared.”
“Of what?” Gabby seemed magnetized to me, our faces gravitating toward each other.
“Of this.”
She leaned in. We kissed, her lips warm and soft, sticky sweet, the sensation satisfying. Her tongue parted my lips, bolder than I anticipated. I adjusted in my seat to better hold her, biting her bottom lip in soft nibbles. Our noses touched. I lost myself in the feeling, sinking into her touch and losing all sense of time.
She broke the kiss first, leaning back and leaving me gasping for air. “So was that scary?” she asked, her voice husky in the small space.
Yes. No. “It is a fear worth conquering.”
She sighed, studying herself in the rearview mirror, rubbing her fingers alongside her cheeks as if they could erase the small signs of aging, signs sometimes I craved to see on my own face: a road map of a life well lived. “I’m far too old for you.”
“I’m mature for my age,” I promised.
She traced letters on my forearm, the sensation skittering pleasure through me. “I have long known who Ireallyam, even before I married my husband. I’ve never acted upon it, but it is exactly how I imagined it, especially after first seeing you.”
The confession felt so tender, I hoped I could protect her for as long as possible. “I’ve been with different kinds of lovers in the past. It has taught me about my own pleasure. My own desires.”
