“I won one of the most important awards in my field,” I sobbed on her shoulders. “But the ceremony is the same night as the opening Grand Prix gala.”
Ferrari invited Canaan to stay in Miami for all the events and festivities leading to the Grand Prix. The entire team, including Ms. Murielle, would relocate from Fisher Island to the city.
Ms. Murielle tensed. “Where is it?”
“Raleigh and it’s that Thursday night, which means I can’t return until sometime on Friday.” I stepped back. “You think Canaan will be mad?”
Lines furrowed on her forehead. “He will be disappointed. May even be angry, but you can’t miss it.”
“I don’t plan on missing it.” I shifted from one foot to another. “The last time I had to leave for my work, we had a huge fight, and I left anyway. That was just for his practice and birthday, but this is what he’s been working toward for the last three months.”
She squeezed my shoulders. “And you have been working toward your award too. This is one of those bumps that test your relationship. Marriage is for the long haul, and if you can’t figure out how to resolve conflict, you won’t make it.”
“I know.” Tears welled up again. “He’s so excited about the parties and dinners and that I’ll be by his side. I love him so much and don’t want to lose him.”
“And he feels the same.” She chuckled. “He didn’t sleep those three days you were gone. Canaan kept asking me if I’d heard from you, though I wouldn’t speak to him because I didn’t like how he behaved. You’ll get past this and be back in time for the actual race.”
I hugged her again. “God, I hope you’re right.”
“Everything good?” a man’s voice asked from behind us.
I looked back, surprised we weren’t alone.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. Had to run back because I forgot my iPad.” Malcolm had entered the kitchen, picking up an apple from the fruit display in the middle of the island. “What’s up?”
“Good news, actually,” Ms. Murielle started before she looked at me for permission.
I liked Malcolm, I really did—a reserved, more comfortable behind-the-scenes person who undoubtedly had Canaan’s back. I didn’t know how he quite felt about me beyond not liking my intrusion in Canaan’s life at such a crucial juncture in his career. He was friendly enough and respectful in our interactions. “Yeah, I just won a prestigious award for my research. Beat out a lot of people to win it.”
He smiled, transforming his ordinary brown face into a rugged handsomeness that I hadn’t noticed before. “Congratulations. Canaan bragged about how brilliant you are.” Malcolm stopped chomping on the apple. “Then why do you seem sad?”
“It’s the same night of the opening Grand Prix ceremony, and the awards banquet is in Raleigh.”
Malcolm chewed more slowly.
“And I don’t want to disappoint Canaan.”
He swallowed. “Will you be back by Sunday? Because we don’t need anything to mess up his focus. He acts like he can’t do anything if you’re not around. I’m like, ‘Bruh, you’ve been on your own since eighteen.’”
Ms. Murielle chuckled. “He does act like that, doesn’t he?”
“And it gets on my damn nerves.” He slanted a gaze at me from underneath his cap. “No offense.”
I shook my head, secretly pleased that Canaan didn’t hide his feelings from others. “None taken. I’ll be back Friday morning.”
Malcolm adjusted his baseball cap with one hand. “Then Canaan will survive. He’s a grown man, and you have the right to be excited about your award.” He took another large bite of apple and tossed it in the sparkling silver can by the island. “I’ll leave it up to you to tell him. Don’t let him make you feel guilty, Kensie. This is your moment too. We men can be selfish creatures when it comes to what we want and our women.”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Ms. Murielle laughed.
“Which reminds me, what happened with that woman who couldn’t seem to get enough of you at the party?” I nudged his side. “Didn’t I see you sneaking her out of the house a few times since then? You ought to introduce her to the fam.”
“I haven’t snuck a woman out of nowhere since college,” he scoffed. “And I’m not about to be in your next book about the grumpy recluse who fell first for some headstrong woman he can’t live without.”
“Ooh . . . Sounds like a bestseller.” I winked at Ms. Murielle. “Don’t you think so?”
“I do. Women love a tortured hero.” Her round face filled with mirth as she checked the oven.
“Later with that nonsense. I’m good.” He pushed his cap farther down on his head before quietly exiting as he had entered, while Ms. Murielle and I laughed at the reddened flush on his brown skin.
