Divine (6 page)

The dining room beamed with elegance and
money. At one time, the gold-trimmed dishes with matching
gold-rimmed glasses imparted Trina with comfort, confidence, and
appreciation for having been born in a house of wealth.

Now, they didn’t. Materialistic things put on
earth to make people feel better about their shallow existence; the
rich flaunting their money in hopes to garner envy.

She laid her fork on her plate and sipped
some wine. Not true. Most people didn’t behave the way her parents
did.

Except…the man sitting across from her. The
only man her parents considered worthy to join in a Lovett family
dinner. Calvin Chamberlain stuffed his face with duck and mashed
potatoes. He met her eyes, winked, and ate another forkful of
food.

No zing. No thrill pumped her veins. And
definitely no thigh-clenching chemistry passed between them. Nice,
reliable, and he acted as if he adored her.

Polished, handsome, with light brown hair
parted on the side, clean-shaven, never a five o’clock shadow. As
pleasant-looking as he was, and as much as he idolized her, her
thoughts never strayed far from Matt.

“Would you like some more duck?” Her mother’s
voice jostled her out of her musings to the garlic-scented dish in
the maid’s hands.

“No, thank you.”

Mildred, who’d waited on her family for
years, smiled slightly and went toward her brother, sitting beside
her.

Every day, Matt stayed on her mind, but today
the thoughts of him grew stronger, as if she’d suffocate. Consumed
with ambition days before her first year of college, she convinced
herself she made the right decision concerning Matt. Nothing was
further from the truth. Not sealing their bond dug at her conscious
with each passing day.

She gazed out the window to the stables.
Every day, she went horseback riding to escape reality and not
think about him fighting in the war. She tried not to overthink on
how much she missed him. The longing compared to the way her horse
reacted when they grew uptight and nervous, pawing the ground with
their front hoof. With each pass, a layer of soil would erode. The
same for her but rather than soil, a layer of her spirit
deteriorated with each fleeting thought.

The scariest thing, the hope he would return
diminished a little more each day. Months passed since she received
any form of communication. Her letters and emails went unanswered,
text messages not read. Maybe he relocated before the letters
reached him, or the cell service so terrible he didn’t have a
connection. The messages lost in cyberspace. Still, the emails
should have arrived eventually.

Her soul grew heavy, numb from the fear he
would find another woman to comfort, love, and respect him. The
things she should be giving him. What should she think? Ever since
they met, hardly a day had passed that they didn’t make contact.
She had no other choice but to believe if he wanted to reach her,
he would have.

Much to her chagrin, her parents were
happy—ecstatic a doctor sat at Sunday dinner, something they never
allowed Matt to do. She twirled the stem of her wine glass, careful
not to spill a drop on her mother’s precious tablecloth.

Why hadn’t she fought for him? Stupid
question. Interning with a top brain surgeon, she knew the exact
reason why. Money, status. Yet, those things didn’t give her
gratification. And now that she was reaching her goal, she realized
more than ever she’d screwed up. Lost the man she wanted and had to
face a life of complacency.

Matt had so much to offer. Watching how he
dealt with life was a lesson in itself. He didn’t belittle anyone,
didn’t expect her to be something she wasn’t. She rubbed her chest.
She missed him so much she ached deep inside, so deep the heaviness
threatened to stop her heart.

She blinked away her tears before her mother
accused her of having a tender moment toward Cal. He could give her
a nice life, not an exciting one but a doable one.

“Aren’t you glad I stayed persistent about
you two being right for one another?” Mom squeezed her hand.

How should she respond? Should she say, “No,
Mom, he’s not my type? What were you thinking? Look at him? He’s
fine for passing time with but nothing more?”

So she put on the queen’s smile and batted
her eyelashes. The professors at Dartmouth had educated her in the
body’s anatomy, every bone and muscle. Her college classmates had
taught her how to turn an uncomfortable situation into something
tolerable, how to fake an orgasm, not that she’d been with a man to
test the latter, and how to avoid giving your opinion to avoid an
argument. Like now. She batted her eyelashes again at her mom and
then at Cal.

He grinned.

She stopped and let her brother, who sat to
her left, fill her wine glass for the third time.

“Thanks,” she huffed.

“Any time,” Bradley said, filling his. He sat
across from a chin-lifting, pointy-nose brunette, who didn’t speak
unless spoken to and kept her pinky finger out at the side whenever
she drank.

Last year during Christmas break, she’d sat
on the chopping block. Mom had invited Cal to dinner without any
consideration for her wishes. Having money, status, and being one
of the top surgeons at John Hopkins, he exceeded every criteria Mom
set for the ideal man for their little girl. She had resisted
dating him but after almost a year of not hearing from Matt, she
succumbed.

“I have something to tend to in the kitchen.”
Her mother fisted her hands and rose, her arm muscles tensing as if
she would retrieve something wonderful.

She eyed Cal over the rim of her wine glass.
A man any woman would consider a great catch
, a compliment
she often heard when they went out. One woman had the audacity to
corner her in the ladies’ room and demand to know her
intentions.

Cal had nestled into her life like a lost
kitten giddy to find a home, and went out of his way to stay in
contact with her. More than she could say for Matt.

Darn, she missed him.

“Here we are,” sang her mother as she flowed
into the dining room with a large cake centered on an even larger
tray. Mildred followed close behind with a pile of plates.

Bradley bumped her with his knee and
positioned his glass of wine to speak behind it as if no one heard
him.

They used to talk through text messaging but
as soon as their parents caught on, they banned cell phones from
the table and family gatherings. In their twenties, they resorted
to whispering behind their glasses or ducking into another room.
Either they behaved like teens and talked out whatever perturbed
them, or they exploded on their parents. They chose the teen route
and avoided their wrath.

“Are you gonna marry the slime ball?” Bradley
whispered.

Her entire insides threatened to hurl out of
her mouth. “What are you talking about?” she ground out between
clenched teeth, hoping no one eavesdropped.

“You haven’t heard?” he chuckled and sipped
his wine.

The days of grabbing the glass out of his
hand and tossing the liquid in his face faded with her
childhood.

“You’re the only one who doesn’t know he’s
asking you to marry him this evening?”

On their own accord, her eyes rounded to the
point she expected them to pop out of their sockets. “What?
When?”

Coughing into his hand, Cal stood.

She tracked his movements as he rose and
lifted a glass in the air. She blinked, hoping when she opened them
another scene would be playing, but no! The man who wore an
expensive suit no matter where he went beamed at her. When she rode
her horse, he’d join her. In a suit!

“I love you more than life itself.” His voice
was low and burning with intensity. “I promise you the life you’re
accustomed to,” he said then chuckled. “And let’s face it, most
people can’t.”

She threw up a little in her mouth. The nerve
for him to think she couldn’t take care of herself. “I don’t need
someone to support me.” She acted on her Dartmouth schoolmates’
teachings and refrained from frowning.

“Honey,” her mother said, “you can’t expect
to keep working when you have little ones. A woman’s place is at
home.”

Bradley choked. Red wine flew out of his
mouth, splattered the white tablecloth, and soaked his arm.

“Now son, I’ve taught you better.” At the
opposite end of the table from Mom, Dad waved his arm. “I never in
all my days have seen such a lazy swine as I see in you. Go get
cleaned up.”

Bradley did as his father said and patted her
shoulder on the way out.

She picked up her glass, intending to act the
same as Bradley, so her dad would send her out of the room too. Her
clever mother touched her wrist. “Don’t you think it’s best to save
the wine for the toast after Cal speaks his peace?”

His peace
. Her hell.

Cal set his glass on the table, passed behind
her mother and knelt on one knee in front of her. “If I don’t say
this fast, I’ll bust.”

Please do.

“Will you marry me?”

She smacked her hands against her face. Sweat
beaded on her forehead and between her breasts.

“Oh,” her mother slapped her hands together.
“Trina is so excited.”

My life sucks.

“Will you become Mrs. Calvin Malcom
Chamberlain?”

Trina inhaled the aroma of morning coffee
from her mug and waited for her best friend to join her in their
family room.

After a long stretch of time, Cadence Duvall
escaped her bedroom, grabbed a cup of coffee, and sat on the couch,
curling her legs under her. “What’s up? I can tell by your tight
lips you have a secret.”

Dark-haired, green-eyed, her friend was as
sireness as they come. Heck, she even had a girl crush on her. “I
do.” She drank some caffeine. Telling Cadence something that would
upset her, without receiving battle scars, was similar to taking a
bear for a walk. Impossible. “Cal asked me to marry him last
night.”

Despite having awakened a few seconds ago,
Cadence’s ready-to-tango attitude sprung to life. Her face turned
red. “You’re kidding me. No way can you marry Cal. He’s not right
for you. Have you forgotten about Matt? Your dream guy? He’s the
one you think about every night and every morning, the man who will
one day give you a screaming orgasm. He’s the big bang! If you’d
screwed Matt, you wouldn’t be in this position. You’re horny. You
can’t make judgment calls when you’re horny.”

“Wow. Did you take a breath?”

“No. I need a second to refuel.” Cadence
gulped her coffee.

She considered everything her friend fumed
about. Hearing it from her perspective put a different, ugly
viewpoint on the situation. “I didn’t answer Cal.”

“Not answering is a yes.”

In spite of how much her friend riled her,
she knew the rant came from a sincere place. Blunt, honest, and
would do anything for her, Cadence arched a brow. “Or a no to some
people.” She uncurled from the couch, headed to their kitchen, and
poured another cup of coffee. “I need a coffee keg.”

Good, she joked. “Only one keg?”

“Touché,” Cadence moaned into her cup. She
made everything sound erotic.

“Just because you have a different guy every
night doesn’t mean I’m making a decision based on celibacy.”

“Why is that exactly?” Cadence resumed her
position on the couch. “Why are you celibate? You’re an attractive
woman. Have a great body. Smart as a whip. And filthy rich. You’re
the perfect nine.”

“I suppose you’re the perfect ten?” She
arched a brow.

“I got these.” Cadence cupped one of her
cantaloupe size breasts then playfully smacked her knee. “You know
I’m kidding, but seriously, why? You’re young. It doesn’t make
sense. Don’t you have cravings?”

I do have cravings!
Orgasmic
ones!
But the man she wanted to fulfil them wasn’t talking.
“There’s no time while working on a degree.”

“I was right there with you. I still got
laid. Now I’m in a successful practice, but you, you have to become
a neurologist, specializing in brain disorders. At least you didn’t
become a neurosurgeon like your dad.” Cadence relaxed against the
couch. “You messed up not going with me during the holidays. If you
had, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

She sipped the coffee from the cup she’d held
ever since this ridiculous conversation started and had to agree.
The sand running between her toes and getting a tan would have been
much better than receiving an unwanted marriage proposal. “Bradley
needed a second layer of defense against the snotty girl Mom
insisted he date.”

“Really?” Concern laced her friend’s voice. A
flash of something filled her features before disappearing.

If her problems didn’t muddle her mind so
much, she’d put Cadence at the opposite end of the question firing
squad.