The sound of his native language sent a ripple of heat through me. The way the syllables rolled off his tongue reminded me of whispered promises and pleasures from last summer.
Everything about him was designed to distract from his controlling tendencies. The accent, the looks, the competence. They were all weapons in his arsenal to make me forget that he thought he knew what was best for me.
“Markos, he will drive you,” he said, pocketing his phone and opening the front door.
I stalked outside, my belly making the dramatic exit less effective than intended. A black Olympus SUV idled at the curb, and Markos climbed out to open the rear door.
“Good afternoon, Ms. White.”
“Hi.” I slid into the backseat.
The SUV was ridiculously comfortable, with butter-soft leather seats and enough legroom for a basketball team. I tried not to think about how this level of luxury had become normal last summer, how easy it would be to get used to again.
“Where to, Ms. White?” Markos asked, his accent much thicker than Aris’s.
I rattled off Kandi’s address and texted her to let her know I was on my way.
Twenty minutes later, Markos opened my door outside Kandi’s townhouse in the newer development on the east side of town. He offered his hand to help me out, and I accepted.
“I’ll be right here when you’re ready, Ms. White,” he said.
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll get an Uber home.”
“Mr. Christakis’s instructions were clear.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course they were. Fine. Do whatever you want.”
He moved back to the driver’s seat and pulled out a tablet, clearly prepared to wait however long it took.
Kandi must have been watching from the window because she threw open the front door before I reached the porch.
“Friend, you look ready to commit murder,” she said, steering me toward her living room. “Sit. I’m finishing up with supper.”
Her townhouse was what she called “intentionally chaotic”. There were throw pillows in every color, plants on every surface, and enough candles to stock a small boutique.
I sank into her overstuffed couch. Immediately, one of the twins started performing somersaults.
Kandi returned with two bowls and curled up on the opposite end of the couch. The scent of soy-ginger glaze and fresh scallions made my stomach growl loud enough that Kandi laughed.
“You made teriyaki chicken bowls?” I stared at the perfectly arranged grilled chicken, avocado, and the golden-brown meat drizzled with glossy sauce. “Kandi, I love you.”
“Save the love confessions for after I solve your problems.” She pointed her fork at me. “Spill.”
I scooped up a bite and moaned as the flavors hit my tongue. The babies had turned me into a bottomless pit, and the warm, savory chicken was exactly what I needed.
After three more bites, the events of the past hour poured out.
“Your future husband threw away your books?”
I ignored the future husband part. The more I told her to stop, the more she’d continue. “All of them. Every single one.”
“The audacity.” But Kandi’s tone suggested she was more amused than outraged.
“Don’t you dare take his side.”
“I’m not! I’m just saying...” She trailed off, shoving another bite into her mouth.
“What?”
