I sipped a smoothie for breakfast on the terrace, gazing out at the gorgeous view. The deep azure blue of the Atlantic beckoned me. Maybe I will wake up at dawn and catch some waves before practice tomorrow. Maybe surfing could help me settle my nerves. I still hadn’t yet found my flow. I hadn’t found the Zen space I needed to soar.
“Boy, what are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at the track?” Ms. Murielle admonished me from behind.
“It’s a special day for Kensie, and I wanted to wait to see if she needed anything from me.”
“It’s a special day for both of you. She did this for you. She wanted to do something she thought would help you get through your mental block. She’s worried that she’s a distraction when she only wants to be a support.”
I scoffed. “You’re sure this is just for me? Her career is about showing the world how much fun she has, making people believe in fantasies.”
“I thought you two were having fun.” She spread her arms. “For many people, including Kensie and me, living like thisisa fantasy. But for you, it’s reality, and she’s sharing that our people can have this without being a superstar. Have you ever watched her live or seen her posts whenever she mentions you? It’s all about your contribution to the oil industry and your impeccable skills on the track, beating the odds in all aspects of your life. She’s not boasting about being with a rich man, trying to make others jealous.”
Guilt lowered my eyes.
“Before you lose a good thing, why don’t you start valuing what she does and who she is?”
“I do value her. I’ll give her anything she wants or needs. I don’t want to lose her.”
“Then seeallof her. You dismiss her when you dismiss her work. Her passion. Maybe I don’t understand how the social media world works, but I do know that she works just as hard as you do. She spends hours in front of her computer or reading. I do know she’s living a life that she’s proud of, and she’s happy with or without you.”
I chuckled. “Don’t I know it? She’ll be proud to tell me she doesn’t need me to be happy.” I shifted to look at Ms. Murielle. “You like her, don’t you?”
Ms. Murielle smiled. “I like her because she makes you smile more. I see the little boy I met years ago when she’s around. The boy who still believed. Who still had hope.”
Gripping my glass tighter, I glanced back at the view of nature at its most glorious. “She said she felt hopeless after our date. I made her feel that way.”
“Every woman wants to have belief and hope in their man, that he is the one. That he will be her protector and her support. That he will carry the load when the road is rough because he loves her that much. My Jack did that for me,” she finished proudly.
“What if Kensie never feels that way about me?”
“Boy, the way she looks and talks about you, she feels that way. You just have to make sure she doesn’t stop.”
I wish I could tell Ms. Murielle the truth and why I doubted whether Kensie could truly believe and have hope in me. Instead, I asked, “How did you know Mr. Jack was the one for you?”
“I couldn’t imagine sharing my everyday with anyone else. And for thirty-four years, I shared my everyday with him.” Her eyes glazed. “I still share my everyday with him.”
I admired her husband, who used to pick her up from my father’s house. He died four years ago from a short battle with prostate cancer, and since they never had children, I’d been looking out for Ms. Murielle. I never wanted her to be alone after sharing a life with someone for so long, so it was another reason, besides her good cooking, that I requested she travel with me.
“Can I ask you something else?”
“What, boy? I got cooking for one hundred guests to finish up. I don’t know why you think I can work miracles, deciding at the last minute to throw a party.” She tempered her exasperated tone with love.
“When are you going to stop calling me ‘boy’? I’m thirty years old.” My lips spread into a wide grin.
“I know your age more than you know it, and I’ll never stop calling you that.” She slapped her thigh through her pants.
I looked over at the woman who had become my family. “Why?”
Ms. Murielle shook her head and walked back to the glass door. When she opened it, without turning back around, she answered, “You’llalwaysbe my boy.”
My eyes watered as I refocused on the horizon.
Chapter 23
Kensie
Event planning wasn’t my niche or something I ever wanted to do. Yet, I rushed around the house with my cell attached to my ear, coordinating last-minute entertainment for the party we would have at the villa—Canaan’s idea, of course. The fans and their guests would be driven to the house for a party shortly after the race. I paced in the sitting room, trying to pay top dollar for a well-known DJ who would keep the party bumping with hip-hop and R&B. Sensing Canaan’s presence behind me, I glanced toward the entrance. He stood with his hands in the pockets of his joggers with a question mark gracing his handsome features. His sudden appearance when I thought he’d already left affected me more than I would ever have admitted. I held up a finger, and he walked farther into the room and plopped down on the sofa. His light brown eyes appeared green in this light as he watched me expectantly.
I’d been determined to keep my distance after our date. I wasn’t rude or mean to him because he didn’t warrant any disrespect. I treated our situation as I intended it to be from the start: purely business. We were temporary partners, and our collaboration was successful. My following and book sales continued to grow. Canaan had his choice of sponsors for this race and future ones in both racing worlds.
