50
Nate rolled onto his side and draped an arm over Riley’s side, caressing her breast. He pressed his lips to her ear. “You finally had your way with me, after all these years. Was it worth the wait?”
His beard tickled her cheek, and she could feel his erection pressing into her side. She slid just out of his reach and turned to face him. “The question is, was I worth your wait?”
He cast his eyes downward. “You can’t tell?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop smiling,” Riley said.
“Then don’t,” Nate said, closing the space between them, running his hand down her flank. He started to slide his leg between her legs. “I bet I can find a way to keep us both smiling. All night long. Tomorrow, too.”
“I can’t stay,” she said. “You know that. It must be after midnight now.”
“So? Do you have a curfew?”
“Mama will be wondering where I am.”
“You’re forty-two years old, Riley. Tell her you met a charming man on the beach, took him home, and seduced him.”
“Who seduced who?” she said playfully.
“You kissed me first,” Nate pointed out. “I was just being polite.”
She yawned widely. “I certainly do love your good manners.” She sat up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest and glancing around the darkened room.
“I wonder what happened to my clothes?”
“You don’t need no stinkin’ clothes,” Nate growled, dropping kisses on her shoulders. “You’re gorgeous just like this.”
“That’s very nice,” Riley said demurely. “But it might turn some heads if I ride home naked in your golf cart. Just think what Belle Isle Barbie would have to say about that! The coconut telegraph would be working overtime.”
“Who cares?” Nate reached over and turned on the lamp on the nightstand.
“I do. I have a twelve-year-old daughter, remember?” Riley clapped her hands over her mouth. “Oh my God! Maggy! I completely forgot about her.”
“You forgot you have a kid?” Nate walked into the living room and returned with her dress and panties.
“No! She was spending the night at her friend Annabelle’s house. I left messages for the mother, but she never called me back.”
“So?”
“So I’ve never met this woman. Her name is Chantelle. I needed to explain to her about Maggy’s insulin, and her exchanges…”
“Why can’t Maggy tell her?” he asked.
“She could, but who knows if she will? Oh my God. I am the worst mother ever!”
Riley grabbed her clothes and began dressing. “My phone! I don’t even know where my phone is. What if she tried to call? What if Maggy was sick.…”
Nate walked calmly into the living room. Through the open bedroom door she saw him pull on his discarded jeans and walk out the front door, barefoot.
A moment later she heard the screen door slam and he was back, handing her the phone. “It was in the cup holder in the cart.”
Riley took the phone and examined it. “No text messages. I guess that’s a good sign. But there’s one missed call and a voice message. I don’t recognize the number, but it looks like a Durham area code.”
Riley tapped the message and turned on the speaker.
The caller was a woman, with a slight Southern accent. “Hi. This is Chantelle Roberts. Sorry we’ve missed each other. I just wanted to let you know the girls finally settled down and went to bed. Maggy checked her blood sugar and everything’s fine. I’ll have her call you in the morning. Thanks so much for letting her spend the night. I think they’ve had a real good time.”
“Thank God,” Riley said, exhaling loudly. “If something had happened tonight while I was here…” She shuddered. “I would never forgive myself.”
“But nothing did happen,” Nate pointed out. “What does Maggy do about her diabetes when you’re not around? Like, when she’s at school?”
“She knows how to test her blood and she gives herself insulin. But this is different.”
“How?”
“At school her teachers know about her diabetes and they know what to do if she’s in trouble. There’s a trained nurse in the school clinic.…”
“And there was a responsible adult parent tonight at her friend’s house,” Nate said. “And nothing bad happened.”
“But it could have,” Riley insisted. “I’m sorry, Nate, but you’ve never had kids, especially a sick kid. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Okay, okay,” Nate said. He moved behind Riley and knotted the tie of her halter dress, stopping to nuzzle her neck again.
“I’ll take you home, dressed, if you insist. But what about tomorrow night? Can we do this again?”
She turned and put her arms around his neck. “That would be lovely, but let me see what’s going on at home. Okay? I’m supposed to go to a cookout at Parrish’s house.”
Nate kissed her deeply and sighed. “After? Before? Doesn’t matter to me. I just want to be with you.”
“We’ll see,” Riley promised. She walked into the living room to look for her shoes and spotted her half-empty wineglass and full plate of food.
“You never did feed me last night,” she said accusingly.
“No, I did something a lot better for you,” he said.
“Way better,” she agreed.
51
Maggy burst into the kitchen door at eleven Sunday morning, her eyes shining with excitement. “Mom! I had the best time ever at Annabelle’s last night.”
“Who’s Annabelle?” asked Scott. He’d arrived thirty minutes earlier with his brunch contribution, a batch of blueberry scones fresh from the oven, but no Billy.
“My new best friend,” Maggy said, sitting down at the table across from her grandmother and beside her great-aunt Roo. “She lives in Durham, so after school starts back, we can probably hang out on weekends and stuff.”
“I’m glad,” Riley said, handing her daughter a plate. “Did you eat this morning?”
“Yes, Mom,” Maggy said, rolling her eyes. “And I tested my blood, and I took my insulin. Can I just have some strawberries?”
“Help yourself,” Riley said. “Can I ask what you did at Annabelle’s that was so fabulous?”
“Chantelle let us order takeout pizza. Two different kinds.”
Mimi set her bone-china coffee cup down on its saucer. “Young lady, does Annabelle’s mother have a proper name?”
“I don’t know, Mimi. Everybody just calls her Chantelle. Even Annabelle. And Chantelle said I should call her that.”
“What is this Annabelle’s father’s last name?” Evelyn asked.
Riley tried to signal to her mother to abandon this line of questioning, but Evelyn Nolan was not someone to be deterred.
“I don’t think Annabelle has a father,” Maggy said. “But Chantelle’s girlfriend’s name is Micki. Spelled with an i. She’s cool too, but she had to work this weekend.”