“Please, Kensie. You can’t be mad forever. The video doesn’t show your body, and you wouldn’t have been with him if I hadn’t done what I did.”
“Yes, I can be mad. You leaked a sex tape of me . . . I’m supposed to be your best friend, and you don’t know that I would never do that even for the sake of my career?” I scoffed. “You know what’s funny? I never considered how Emme truly felt about me being with Canaan until I learned what you did. She had every right to be angry and hate me. It didn’t matter if she found love with another man. I hurt her. So what that Canaan and I fell in love? It doesn’t change whatyoudid to me. Now, he’s done with us, believing the worst of me.”
Saraj placed his hands on the doorjamb and leaned his forehead against the door. “Forget our friendship side. I’m still your manager, and you haven’t posted or reached out to your professor in over a month. Howard is still waiting for an answer on whether you want to be a faculty member too. You have responsibilities and need to tell them something—anything. Neither you nor Canaan has been publicly seen since you stepped off his plane last month.”
What can I say?Tell my fans thatCanaan refuses to speak to me because he blamed mefor his near-death accident?I slung the covers over my head, watching Saraj’s pained expression as he banged on the door a few more times before he left with his head down. I wept again at my normally vivacious and animated friend, who looked like a shell of a man, like the hollow woman I’d been this past month. My home had become my prison and comfort, and I hadn’t left these walls since I left Canaan’s place.
Through my tears, I perused the internet as I did daily in anticipation and dread that I would see Canaan again. After waking up with him for three months, I desperately longed to see his face again. Then apprehension set in that when he did make an appearance, he would be with another woman. His page had been silent for the past three weeks, with his last post letting fans know that he was expected to recover fully, remain with the Ferrari team, and race again in Italy at the beginning of September.
I ran my finger over his handsome face in a pic of us that had been taken by a fan the night of the party. We were happy that night, and the camera captured our joy and love for each other. I wanted to be angry that he’d given up on us so easily, but I couldn’t muster the strength to do so. He almost died because he had been distracted by his feelings of betrayal. A man who’d never let anyone interfere with his dreams had let me in and risked his heartandhis life. No, I couldn’t and wouldn’t be angry with him.
My doorbell rang again. Expecting Saraj, I glanced at my cell, prepared to ignore him. Instead, Ms. Murielle stood at my door. Worry and concern that something had happened to Canaan propelled me to grab a robe and hurry to the door.
“Ms. Murielle, is Canaan okay?” I asked after hugging the woman who’d become a mother figure during our time in Miami.
She shook her head, and I ushered her into my messy townhome.
“Um . . . I didn’t expect company.” I tossed a leopard-print throw and a couple of takeout containers off the sofa onto the nearby table. “Please sit.”
Ms. Murielle balled her hands into fists and softly chuckled as she sat down. “If Canaan knew I was here, he would be angry. Might actually fire me for real this time.” It’d become a running joke that he would threaten to fire her whenever Ms. Murielle meddled in his personal life. However, no one believed, including Canaan, that he would ever let her go.
I didn’t want to sit. “What’s wrong?”
“He’s not doing well.”
Alarmed, I scanned the room for my car keys. “Is he back in the hospital?”
She quickly reassured me, “He’s at home, and he won’t get out of bed except to use the bathroom. After the surgery, he was supposed to start rehab for his arm, but he refused. It’s like he’s a zombie. Malcolm can’t get through to him. He tolerates his grandparents’ calls and refuses to speak with his father, who has tried several times to contact him. I’m worried because I’ve never seen him like this. He’s afraid, and that boy . . . That man hasneverbeen afraid of anything.”
“Maybe he needs counseling. After all, he was in a traumatic accident,” I suggested, although everything in my soul wanted to run to him and climb into bed with him and hold him tightly.
“He needs you.” Ms. Murielle looked at me. “I know lovesick when I see it. Just like you look right now, he’s afraid to race because you’re not there. He’s not motivated to do anything because you’re not there.”
My heart throbbed that he might be experiencing the same loss as I. “Canaan’s too stubborn ever to admit that he needs me.”
Ms. Murielle demanded, “Thenmakehim admit it. Remind him that you love each other.”
“He thinks I betrayed him.” I moved away from Ms. Murielle and stared at my bare feet, desperately needing a pedicure. “Do you know why we broke up?”
“He told me what happened.”
I gulped. “Everything?”
She nodded. “Canaan told me after I got on his case for ending things with you. He said that you were pretending to be engaged for your careers. That he fell in love, but doesn’t know if you did.”
“Do you believe I did?” I sighed and folded my arms, prepared to be hurt by her response.
“I lived with both of you. You were madly in love with each other. He’s just too hurt and confused to see clearly,” Ms. Murielle firmly replied.
Gripping my T-shirt above my heart, I said, “I swear to you, I love that man with all that I am, and didn’t leak that video. That’snotwho I am. I might share my life with my followers, but I wouldn’t share something so private. Saraj acted alone, and our friendship is over because of it.”
“I’m here because I believe you. Canaan is my son in every sense of the word except biological. I’ve watched him from a young boy who didn’t feel wanted by his parents. Whose face only brightened for his grandparents on the islands, and for me and my husband. He’s a guarded man, only letting a few trusted people into his world. Women have floated in and out of his life, and he never cared.” Her gaze warmed. “He told me about you before I met you. He’s cared about you for longer than you probably realize.”
My eyes widened. “When did he tell you about me?”
Ms. Murielle replied, “A couple of years ago.”
I had to breathe through the lump in my throat. “What? We didn’t know each other then.”
