Another Woman's Man (15 page)

“Hmm, I don't know!” she shouted sarcastically. “Maybe it was the fact that I looked like I was counting ceiling tiles, or that my vajayjay was as dry as the Sahara desert! Maybe one of those things would have given you a clue!”

He glared at her. “Man, to hell with this . . . and to hell with you, you moody-ass bitch! Don't call me again. In fact, forget my damn number!”

“Don't worry. It's already forgotten,” she replied as he stormed out of her bedroom.

A few seconds later, he slammed the front door of her apartment closed behind him. After that, Dawn slumped onto her bed and dropped her head into her hands.

Whatever buzz she had before this little episode had completely disappeared. Dawn was both sober and remorseful—not about what she had said to Hosea, but about calling him in the first place.

Her hope had been to forget about Xavier, but she didn't feel any better now than she had when she saw Xavier and Constance together in his kitchen earlier that night. Actually, she felt a lot worse. The heartbreak was both painful and raw.

“Damn it,” she mumbled with a sniff. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She impatiently wiped them away. She wished she could blame the alcohol for her crying, but she knew that was a lie.

Why couldn't she get that man out of her damn head? Why did she hurt this bad? It didn't make any sense!

“You can't chose who you fall in love with,” the voice in her head urged.

I'm not in love
,
damn it,
she thought vehemently.

“Sure, you aren't,” the voice ridiculed.

Dawn sighed.
Okay, maybe just a little.

She finally understood what her sisters Lauren and Stephanie had meant when they said the same thing when they both fell in love. But while her sisters found their own happy endings, she knew she wouldn't with Xavier. That's why she desperately wished for these feelings to go away. They didn't serve any purpose other than to make her miserable.

It's time to be a grown-up about this.

She guessed her only alternative was to suck it up, to keep pretending. Out of respect for her father, out of respect for the family rules, Dawn would continue to play the good future sister-in-law and not interfere with Xavier and Constance's relationship. She would continue to be “just friends,” no matter how much it hurt.

With that she rose from her bed, walked into her living room, and locked her apartment front door. Minutes later, she turned off her bedroom lights and fell asleep.

X
avier pushed up the front of his black wool hat. It had started to droop into his eyes, making it even harder to see the roadway in front of him.

The glare from last night's record snowfall was almost blinding in the morning sun. It was so bright that he wanted to open his glove compartment and try to dig out his favorite pair of Ray-Bans. But he worried that if he took his hands off the steering wheel—even for a second—he could easily fishtail out here. It wasn't noon yet and the snow was already transforming to a murky gray slush in some spots. He had hit patches of black ice twice along the way.

No
, Xavier thought as he squinted at the street in front of him,
I'll tough it out
.

He only had a few more miles until he arrived at his mother's house anyway, even though he probably wouldn't get there until evening, with the thirty miles per hour he was clocking on the speedometer.

Most people were still indoors, waiting for the snow removal and salt trucks to finish their handiwork, but Xavier had braved highways and back roads in his ill-equipped Audi S4 because he knew his mother would probably be snowed in for the next few days, if not the whole week, unless he came and shoveled her walkway and driveway. Leslie Ann Hughes would stay holed up in her house with her two beloved Old English sheepdogs until the snow melted or until Xavier came to rescue her.

“It's no big deal, hon,” his mother had assured him over the phone when he called to check on her earlier that morning. He could hear the dogs barking in the background. “I've got plenty of soup, toilet paper, and Dog Chow. The boys and I will be fine! Just
fine!
”

Yeah, like he was really going to leave her to fend for herself.

He had taken on the responsibility for caring for his mother since his father had died more than a decade ago. It was a responsibility Xavier took very seriously.

He finally pulled onto her street, feeling his tires slip a little as they fought to gain traction in the packed snow. He tentatively pressed on the gas and lurched forward again. When he drew near his mother's white Georgian colonial with its black shutters and Christmas lights still dangling around the windows, his eyebrows shot up an inch in surprise.

His mother's neighbor, Jake Mahoney, was in her driveway, pushing a snowblower. The plump man was in a blue parka, jeans, and furry snow boots. A St. Louis Blues cap was on his bald head. When Xavier pulled to a stop, Jake cut the engine to the snowblower, and waved his mitten-encased hand.

“Hey, Xavier!” Jake shouted as he carefully made his way down the almost-cleared driveway. “What the heck are you doing out here? Are you trying to hit a tree?”

Xavier shifted the car into park, turned off the engine, and opened his car door. “I came to shovel Mom's driveway and walkway,” he said as he climbed out and shut the Audi's door behind him. “But it looks like you've taken care of it for me.”

Jake smiled. At that moment, he looked like Santa Claus with his thick gray beard and rosy cheeks.

“Ayuh, got it all covered,” Jake said. “I should be done with the whole thing in about an hour.”

“Hi, hon!” Xavier's mother called.

Xavier looked up to find her standing in the doorway, pushing Lenny and Squiggy back inside, though the rambunctious pets tried their best to squeeze around and through her legs. They started to bay and bark excitedly the instant they saw Xavier.

“You go on and visit with your mom,” Jake said, walking back toward his snowblower. “I'll finish this up.”

“Thanks.”

Xavier trudged through the snow, which was almost up to his knees. He finally reached his mother's front door. As he wiped and stomped his boots on her welcome mat, she stood on her toes and kissed his cold cheek.

“Told you that you didn't have to come!” she chided.

Xavier walked inside and shut the front door behind him, drowning out the buzzing sound of the snowblower. He gave attention to the “boys.” They ran in circles, hopped on their hind legs, pressed their paws against Xavier's chest, and slobbered down his face. Xavier rubbed their heads and muzzles. He scratched their chins before thumping both on their sides and shooing them away.

“You could have told me that you already had your boyfriend out there with a snowblower. I could have saved the trip,” Xavier said with a smirk as he lowered the zipper on his wool coat.

His mother looked offended. “Xavier Christopher Hughes, that man is
not
my boyfriend!”

He tugged off his hat, ran his hand through the matted curls on his now-sweaty head, and followed his mother down the hall. The dogs raced between them. “I'm only joking, Mom.”

“And it wasn't funny!” She pursed her thin lips and adjusted her blue wool shawl around her shoulders. “I told him that he didn't have to do it. Jake took it upon himself to clear my driveway.”

“Maybe he figured if he got rid of the snow, you'd finally go on a date with him,” Xavier ventured, needling her again.

His mother obstinately tossed back her strawberry-blond head. “I'm afraid there isn't
that
much snow in the world.” She turned on her heel and strode toward the kitchen, making Xavier shake his head in exasperation.

He glanced at the living room wall and frowned at the collage of framed pictures. Most were old photos of his father, either alone or posing with her and a teenage Xavier. It was her little shrine to Malcolm Hughes. She hadn't changed it since Malcolm's death. In fact, if you removed the photos from the wall, you'd probably see the dusty silhouette of each picture frame. They had been nailed to the wall for so damn long.

She had always been in awe of Malcolm, ever since the day they met on a flight from Chicago to London back in 1980. She had been the shy, small-town girl from Indiana who was going on her first trip to Europe. Malcolm was the smooth-talking, worldly lawyer who indulged her and talked to her the entire flight, answering all her questions about London. When the plane touched down at Heathrow and Malcolm asked Leslie Ann what her evening plans were and if she would like to join him for dinner in the West End, she had been dumbstruck. She was enthralled by him, but she had never dated a black man before. She had hardly even spoken to one until that day. But he was so handsome, smart, and charming that she couldn't say no. She had been lost ever since. Even now, Xavier's dad still cast a magic spell over her from the grave. No other man seemed to compare to him. Poor Jake Mahoney didn't stand a chance.

Xavier and his mother had chosen to mourn his father's passing in very different ways. Though Xavier had chosen to push aside his emotions, locking away his mourning for his father under a staid façade, his mother wore her emotions on her sleeves. Everyone could tell that his dad still held a firm and prominent place in her heart.

It's not healthy,
Xavier thought, turning away from the photographs.
Her keeping vigil like this isn't good for her.

“You know, maybe you
should
consider going out with Jake, Mom,” Xavier ventured. He could hear her rummaging around in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors and digging through drawers. He tossed his coat and hat on the back of her flower-printed, dog-hair-covered sofa and tugged off his leather gloves, adding them to the pile of outerwear. “You might actually have fun. Remember that word?
Fun?
It'd be good for you to get out of the house for once. Lenny and Squiggy could handle it.”

His mother poked her head around the kitchen door frame and gazed into the living room. “You want some hot cocoa?”

“Sure, and don't pretend like you didn't hear me. I mean it, Mom. When Dad died, I'm sure he didn't expect you to stay a single widow forever. It's been thirteen years and you still haven't seriously dated anyone.”

She emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later with two steaming coffee mugs in her hands and a stubborn expression on her face. She walked toward Xavier and handed him one of the mugs. “Thanks for the romance advice, but I'd focus more on
your
love life than my own.”

Xavier sat on the sofa while she took one of the nearby armchairs. The dogs plopped on the rug between them.

Xavier stared at his mother, now baffled. He took a drink from his mug. “What's wrong with my love life?”

“Well, what's the story with Dawn Gibbons, for one?”

He shook his head, puzzled by the subject change. “Well, you spoke to her at the party, didn't you? She's Herb's daughter. She works at a gallery in D.C. as a—”

His mother shook her head. “I know
who
she is and what she does, sweetheart. I talked to her last week. She seems like a very charming, intelligent woman. What I mean is, what's the story with
you
and Dawn Gibbons?”

Xavier gaped. How the hell did his mother know about Dawn? He hadn't told anyone about his mixed feelings toward her. How had his mother found out?

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said softly with a forced laugh, letting his gaze drift to his coffee mug, deciding to play stupid. He drank some of his cocoa.

Leslie Ann sighed heavily. “I mean are you
having sex
with her, Xavier?”

At that, he almost spat out his cocoa onto the living room floor, but instead swallowed the burning liquid in one gulp, scorching his throat. He coughed into his fist.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He nodded then finally stopped coughing. “Of course I haven't had sex with her!” he said between gasps. “What the hell... Why would . . . Why would you ask me a crazy question like that?”

Her face softened. “I didn't think you had, but frankly, your behavior last week left me a bit confused. The whole night at dinner you had your arm wrapped around Constance but your eyes on Dawn. I noticed. It was hard not to. If you didn't stop staring at her like that, I thought you were gonna make your fiancée jealous.”

Damn, was I that bad?
Had Constance noticed too? That would definitely explain why she had been so clingy during dinner and had practically jumped him that night after the party.

“I thought it would be funny to rib you about it,” his mother continued, “but then I noticed Dawn stealing glances at you too, so I knew s
omething
was going on. I've never known you to be a cheater, so I wanted to know what it was.”

He clenched his jaw and put his mug on the oak coffee table. “Nothing's going on between us. You're mistaken, Mom.”

“Not only are you not a cheater, but you're not a good liar either, so don't start now.”

Xavier looked down at the Afghan rug beneath his feet and gnawed the inside of his cheek as he contemplated telling his mother the truth. But he didn't know how to say it. What would she think of him if he admitted he was attracted to his fiancée's sister? What would his mother think if he admitted that not only was he attracted to Dawn, but he also suspected he was starting to fall for her? He would be declaring that not only could he feel himself drawing closer and closer to doing something that would break Constance's heart, but he also wasn't the loyal and reliable man he had always believed himself to be. He would be declaring himself to be no better than that asshole Byron Lattisaw.

“I'm telling you the truth. Nothing's happened.”

“But you've thought about it?”

He didn't answer her, but instead kept his eyes downcast.

“Hon, why are you marrying Constance?”

He gritted his teeth. “Mom, we've been through this before.”

“That girl is shallow. She doesn't match you at all!”

He laughed ruefully, finally meeting his mother's eyes. “So what are you saying? Are you suggesting that I marry Dawn instead? Constance said that's what you probably wanted, but I told her she was wrong. Now I'm starting to wonder!”

Leslie Ann sat aside her mug on a nearby end table. “Not marry her. Of course not! But at least she seems to have more going on than Constance Allen!
She
matches you! Dawn is sophisticated, articulate. She's an artist and a gallery director—”

“You've also failed to mention that she's been divorced
twice,
” he countered, playing devil's advocate. “And she's probably been through more boyfriends than any woman who—”

“So she's divorced! So are half of the people who've ever been married. So she has boyfriends! You told me that I should get out and date and have some fun! Now you're looking down on her for doing the same?”

“You know that's not what I meant. Dawn has got a lot of mileage behind her and—”

“
Mileage?
Well, aren't we being judgmental! Would you say the same if she were a man?”

“We wouldn't be having the conversation if she was a man, Mom!”

“At least she has a
real
job!” his mother continued, ignoring his sarcasm. “What does Constance do for a living?”

“Constance works part-time. You know that.”

“
Works part-time?
You mean that little clothing boutique job she does three days a week when she feels like it?” She blew air through her pert, freckled nose. “Admit it! That girl does
nothing
except spend poor Herb's money! I swear she has cobwebs between her ears with how empty her head is.”

“Look, I'm not going to sit here and listen to you talk trash about my fiancée. Constance
is
the right woman for me. She . . . she makes me happy. She fits me. We make sense!”

“She makes you so happy that you're making wolf eyes across the dinner table at her sister?” his mother asked incredulously.

Xavier clamped his mouth shut, pushing down his frustration. He rose to his feet. “Well, that was a nice visit,” he muttered dryly, reaching for his coat. “I guess I'll head back to—”