I reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’ll hold you up.”
“What?” Kara tilted her head.
“You said that you didn’t have anyone to hold you up. But I can. You aren’t alone. We’re in this together, no matter what.” I lifted my glass to clink with hers and to seal the vow I’d just given her.
“Alone, together,” she repeated. It sounded silly as hell, but it was meaningful. Kara and I were no longer semifriends who tolerated each other.
Daisy came back to the table with fresh drinks on her tray. “Another round from the gentlemen in the corner.”
“Nice.” I grabbed my drink and lifted the glass in the air, giving the men a silent thank-you.
I looked at Kara. “What do you say that we pause on being alone together and go flirt with the cute guys across the room?”
Kara nodded. “Dibs on the redbone with the baby face.”
“You always liked them light.”
“Not true. Remember Patrick from college? Definition of tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Yeah, he was fine. All right, you can have the wannabe Drake and I’ll take Wesley Snipes circa nineties.”
We stood from our seats.
“Wesley Snipes looks the same as he did back then,” Kara whispered as we approached the men. “His black ain’t crackin’.”
“I know, right?” We gave each other air high fives.
For the remainder of the night, we laughed, played dominoes, or bones, as they called it, and flirted. It was fun, the most fun I’d had in a while. We exchanged numbers with the guys and promised to call.
Kara and I giggled and swayed as we waited on the curb for the car service to pick us up.
“Are you calling Drake?” I asked her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, more so to keep my balance.
“No. I need to pass this test and then, I don’t know.” She shrugged.
“You don’t know?”
“I don’t. Being out tonight, it was everything. I lived in the moment. Didn’t think about my test, or fret about Darren, or try to guess what region the wine came from. I flirted with a guy, I hung out with my girl, and I’m tipsy! I guess . . . I guess what I’m saying is that I appreciate tonight.” Her voice grew softer. “I’m content, and I don’t want this feeling to end. I don’t need to base my happiness on a title or a man. I need to live fully in these moments.”
“Well, damn.”
“Too deep for a Saturday night?” She winced.
“No, what you’re saying is perfect. I needed to hear that.”
Kara shook her head. “No, you didn’t. Despite your breakup, you haven’t missed a beat. You have an agent, a book deal. Nothing to sneeze at.”
“And you are, too.” I squeezed her shoulders tighter.
“No, I’m a zombie. I have no passion, no purpose.”
“No, you’re doing great. Your mama passed away less than two years ago, and now you’re separated. Life has given you a lotta bumps, so give yourself some credit. And despite it all, you’re going after what you want.”
She nodded. “I love what I do. I just don’t want my career to define me.”
“Then don’t. Like you said, live in the moments.”
“Fine. I’ll live in the moment, and you need to be brave.”
“Brave?”
“Your daddy. Cam.”
“Where do I begin?”
“I have faith in you, Raina. You’ll figure it out.”
I needed to, because although flirting shamelessly with good-looking guys into the wee hours of the morning was fun, I only wanted Cam. I didn’t know how, but I needed to get him back.
After we returned home, I rushed to my room upstairs and texted him.
I held my breath as I typed,
Hey. Miss you. Can we meet up? Please?
After ten minutes of staring at the message, I pressed send. I stared at the phone until I fell asleep.
A few hours later, midmorning, I woke up with a start. Scrambling for my phone, I found it underneath my pillow.
Heart slamming against my chest, I pressed my phone screen open.
I can’t, Raina.
I huffed, then typed: Why?
He didn’t answer right away, in fact, it took two long hours before a response.
I’m not ready. And I don’t think you are, either.
CHAPTER 14
The Night My Life Began—Kara
“Talk to me,” I whispered into the wine glass. The dark liquid sloshed in the cup, my fingers wrapped around the stem.
“This wine has black pepper. Violets grown in the area. Southern region of France. Year: 1998.”
Martin, one of my study partners, sighed and rolled his eyes. “What? No.”
“No?” I asked, feigning surprise. The wine wasn’t talking to me today. I sat the glass on the table. “Which part?”
“You tell me.” Martin’s hard, beady eyes drilled me. I didn’t blame him. My mind wasn’t on wine, a bad thing given we were just two months away from the exams.
I’d taken my conversation with Raina seriously about enjoying my life. I blew off a few study sessions and called up some of my tennis buddies. Despite my rustiness, I got my Serena Williams on and waxed my opponent’s ass like she was Sharapova in a Grand Slam. Anyone who loved tennis knew that the tennis phenom seemed to take extreme delight in whupping her ass around the tennis court. The high from winning jump-started something in me. Tomorrow I planned on signing up for a 5k.
“Kara?” Martin’s voice, now impatient interrupted me.
Eduardo, my other partner seated beside me, bumped my knee. His brown hands rubbed my shoulder. “Taste it again. Tell us the story.” He picked up the glass and lifted it to my lips. The gesture seemed harmless, but his sensual brown eyes sparked with something intimate, dangerous.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve got it.” I sniffed and closed my eyes.
“Take your time.” Eduardo’s lovely Spanish accent teased my senses and clouded my thoughts.
“Yes,” Martin hissed. “Take your time. We’ve got all night.”
“Shush, Martin,” Claudia admonished.
“The fruit is . . . elusive. Very mature but bitter and complex. From age and time. Hints of chocolate and leather. Vintage. 2005. Napa.”
Martin inclined his head and then focused his attention on Claudia.
Eduardo rubbed my shoulder. “Great job, Kara. Vintage can be tricky.”
“Yeah.” I munched on a tortilla chip and washed it down with sparkling water with lemon. After a few sips, I swirled it around to remove the chalky taste in my mouth.
“I had to beg Roddy to let us try it,” Eduardo whispered, his voice conspiratorial.
“So, you’re the one I should blame.”
“Blame?” Eduardo’s smile gave way to dimples. The man was gorgeous and knew it.
“You should be thanking me. That was a gift. I taste it, and I want to cry.” He lifted his fingers to his mouth and kissed them, like a chef giving a dish praise.
I couldn’t help but laugh at Eduardo’s earnest expression.