The Perfect Mistress (28 page)

Joyce stirred uncomfortably. Her bitterness, she had to admit, led to her daughter storming out of this place. Julian would be visiting only for a little while, and then who would come see her?

“Stress only aggravates your illness,” he continued. “We're on a fast track to a date with Jesus. I don't know about you, but I don't want to spend my last days in that place of negativity.”

She nodded, actually taking in his words. That did make her think, though, and she said, “Ernest, where's your wife?”

He leaned back in his seat. “Oh, she died years ago. Never been blessed with kids, either. So when I die, my legacy dies with me.”

“What kind of legacy do you have?”

“Not much. I don't have much but my name. So if I have any regrets in life, it's the fact that there will be no one to carry my name on. But it just wasn't in the cards. That wasn't the plan God had for my life. He wanted my legacy to end here, I guess.”

Joyce thought about what it would be like to die alone. To be like Ernest with no one there in her final days.

“You don't have any other family?” Joyce asked.

“I outlived them all. Got a brother still alive. But dead in the head. Lost him to mental illness. Last I heard, he was homeless in Phoenix somewhere. Got a nephew, he's the one that pays the bill here, but he ain't got time to visit. So it's just me. All alone.”

“What a sad life.”

He took issue with that. “Who has a sad life? Not me. I live life to the fullest. To the day I take my last breath.”

She admired his attitude. She paused, then said, “Can I ask you a question? I mean, you can be honest because we're just friends.”

“So we are friends?” he said, grinning.

“You know what I mean. There is no reason for you to lie to me.”

“I don't lie. Lies are too hard to remember.”

“How long were you married?”

“Thirty-two years, three hundred and sixty-four days. Wife died the day before our thirty-third anniversary.”

“Were you faithful to her?”

He cocked his head. “What kind of question is that?”

“I guess that's my answer.”

“No, I just wanted to know what kind of question that was,” Ernest said. He scooted to the edge of his seat. “Let me tell you something, when I took Lillian Davis as my wife, I forsook all others.”

“So, you mean to tell me in thirty-three years, you were never with another woman?” Joyce asked skeptically. “I told you there was no need to lie.”

He was offended. “Tell the truth and shame the devil. I
swear on my dilapidated pancreas. Not once did I ever cheat on my wife.”

Her skepticism turned to amazement. She didn't think that was possible.

“Oh, I bumped into some pretty women along the way.” He stuck his chest out. “And as fine as I was, you know they were always after me.” He stroked the stubble on his chin. “But I would always ask myself,
Is she worth it? Is she worth hurting my wife? Is she worth my marriage and losing the love of my life?
The answer was always no. So I never strayed.”

“Do you think a lot of men ask that ‘is she worth it' question?” Joyce wondered if her husband—and her father—were rare or the norm.

Ernest laughed. “Lots of men don't even think about it. But I can tell you this, it is possible to love somebody and hurt them. Some men—and women, for that matter—just do dumb stuff.”

“Repeatedly?” she said.

He nodded. “Repeatedly. Doesn't mean they don't love you. Maybe they don't know how to love. Maybe they just think they won't get caught. Maybe they like the adventure.”

“That's a lot of maybes.”

“Yep. But I've learned you have to remember the good because the bad will eat you alive. What about you? Were you faithful?”

“I was faithful, stupidly so.”

“Nothing stupid about that. You did what was right for you. You can't focus on what someone else is doing. All you have control over is what you're doing.”

For the first time, Joyce saw him in a different light. “I didn't know you were so wise.”

“That's because you won't take the time to get to know me. Maybe if you did, you'd see. I make a good friend. I make good conversation. I also make good love.” He flashed a wicked smile.

“Go on, somewhere,” she chuckled.

He stood up and wiggled his hips. It was a sad sight that made her laugh as he said, “I still got a little motion in my ocean. You wanna roll on my pole?”

“You are a disgusting old man,” she said, giggling like a schoolgirl.

He relaxed and his wicked smile turned warm. “I'm just messing with you. I try to get with a woman as fine as you, and my heart would give out 'fore you got my boxers down. I'm just happy to see you smiling. You really do have a beautiful smile. You should try using it more often.”

He winked, then walked out of the room.

F
or once in her life, Lauren wasn't concerned about the next man, the next date, the next come-up. She was completely and utterly happy being a one-man woman.

That's why she almost didn't answer her cell phone when it blared and Craig's name flashed on her screen.

“Hello?” she said, deciding to go ahead and answer so she could make a few things clear. Then she was going to do as Matthew had done, press
DELETE
.

“Hey, sweetness,” he said. “How are you?”

“Who is this?” She plopped down on her bed. She'd only been home a few minutes, to get some more clothes since she'd been at Matthew's place all week.

“So it's like that now? You forgot who I am?” He sounded offended.

Craig's impeccable, athletic body flashed through her mind, but she quickly brushed it aside. She let out an aggravated groan. “What do you want, Craig?”

“Oh, so you do know who it is.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” she repeated.

“I miss you.”

“You need to miss me. Miss me with all this foolishness you're talking.”

He laughed. “I see you haven't lost that attitude. You know that turns me on.”

“Craig, what can I do for you?” Lauren huffed. “Would you like to pick up that jewelry for your wife?”

He chuckled, like that was an in joke. “You know, that was smooth how you deflected my wife. I mean, I was telling my boy how you were the perfect mistress.”

She used to take pride in those words. Now they made her cringe. The love of one good man had made her realize how bad it had been settling for that title.

“Let me explain something to you. Who I am and who I was are two different people,” she began.

“Aww, dang, so Iyanla fixed yo' life or something?” He chuckled again.

“You can joke all you want, but I don't roll like that anymore.” The fact that he was so flippant pissed her off.

“Meet me at the Marriott. I bet I can get you to change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I won't be meeting you today or any day. Your wife is crazy.”

“Don't worry about her. I got her in check.”

Boy, was this getting old. “Okay, Craig, let me see if I can break this down to your jock-understanding level. What we had was fun. I enjoyed it, but it's over. You need to focus on your wife and your kids, and I'll focus on my soon-to-be husband.”

That turned on the light. “Oh, so you're about to be married?”

She immediately regretted telling him that. The last thing she needed was him causing any problems.

“I'm out the game, okay. Can we leave it at that?”

His cockiness returned. “Oh, so it's cool for you to be all up in other folks' marriages, but you wanna get all righteous when it comes to your own?”

“Whatever, Craig. I have found my happily ever after. So I'm good. That's all I'm saying.”

“You people with these rose-colored views of marriage crack me up,” he said cynically. “Tell you what, hang on to my number, babe. I give you two years of marriage. Tops. But the first time you catch him creeping, you'll call me back.”

That caused a sick feeling in her gut.

“Oh, don't tell me you're one of those who thinks he won't cheat,” Craig said when she didn't say anything. “I don't know a man that doesn't.”

“Say what you want, Craig. There are some men that are faithful.”

“And I heard there was a blue unicorn in the mountains of Maine, but no one has seen it yet.” He laughed like he'd really said something side-splitting.

“You're so not funny,” she snapped. “It is possible for a man to be faithful.”

“Have you met one yet? Your daddy? Your grandfather. Uncles? Friends? Stop me when I name one.”

The fact that she couldn't stop him made the phone tremble in her hand. Was she being naïve to think Matthew would be faithful? When they were together before, as far as she knew, he never cheated. But they were kids.

As if he was reading her mind, Craig said, “Even the ones you think are faithful aren't. The male species wasn't meant to be monogamous. That's the bottom line.”

Her father had uttered those exact same words. But Lauren refused to let the demons of her past ruin her future.

“Well, I'll take my chances,” she said breezily. She didn't want to let him know that he'd rattled her. “Bye, Craig. Have a nice life.” She slammed the phone down, hoping it was a stamp of closure on the past.

I
t felt so good to be in love. Really in love. Lauren would never be a fool in love like her mother was, but she definitely could see how someone could be fooled by love.

She watched Matthew watch the game, then snuggled in closer. This had to be what Heaven felt like. Lauren had forgotten what happiness felt like. She didn't realize how much she had resigned herself to playing second fiddle. How she'd convinced herself that the happiness she was feeling right now didn't exist.

But now that she was letting go and loving, she'd never felt more at peace.

She and Matthew had spent every spare moment of the last three weeks together. She'd accompanied him to formal dinners, receptions, important meetings, and networking events as he tried to solidify his nomination. He'd been there for her jewelry showcase, to comfort her with her family issues, and just to show her how to have fun. That's not to mention his unconventional sides—pottery class, wine, and painting, and of course the mind-blowing sex. Better than it had been in college. Yes, this was perfection personified.

Because Matthew's house was bigger than Lauren's condo, she had ended up spending most of her time at his place.

“I need to go home and wash some clothes,” Lauren said, pulling herself up from the bed, where they'd been lounging all morning, watching old movies.

“Why can't you do laundry here?” he asked.

“Uh, because my clothes are at home.”

“I think that's part of the problem.”

She waited on him to crack a smile. When he didn't, she said, “Come again?”

“When is your lease up?”

She'd complained to him about her landlord and shared her desire to buy her own place. “At the end of next month. Why?”

“Because I don't think you should re-sign it.”

“And where am I supposed to live?”

“Here.”

“Boy, bye,” she said.

“I'm serious.”

She shifted on the bed, pulled out a flap of pillow lodged under her shoulder blade. “Matthew, we get along so great because I can go home and you can go home.”

“Okay, but—”

“Plus, we've only been back together a few weeks.”

He leaned over so his head was lying on her stomach. “But we have history. So technically, we've already been together two years and three weeks.”

“Matthew, I'm not moving in with you.”

“Don't write the idea off totally. Think about it. Matter of fact, come here and let me convince you,” he said, pulling her down to him.