Big Chicas Don't Cry(32)

“Yes, you did. Guess I forgot.”

He gave me a look that said he knew I was pouting. “I’ll try to come home early.”

I returned his promise with a quick smile, even though I knew it was a hollow one. Client dinners always ran late. I knew better than to expect anything that night other than a date with my vibrator.

He gave me a kiss on the forehead and told me to hurry up and get inside before I caught a cold. But I waited a good fifteen minutes before following his instructions.

There was no way I was going to risk seeing Chris when I felt so exposed.

And I wasn’t just talking about my skimpy bathing suit.



Later that night, I awoke to soft kisses on my neck. My hand reached out in the darkness to touch Esteban’s cheek.

“You’re home,” I whispered.

“I’m sorry. I thought if I made it home by eleven, you’d still be awake.”

Heavy fingers found my right breast, and I sighed. “I’m awake now.”

“Yes, I can feel that,” he said as he pinched my nipple until it hardened.

Warmth pooled between my legs, and I pulled him toward me until our lips met in the single ray of moonlight coming from the window above our bed.

Our breaths grew ragged, and we pulled clothing away until there was nothing left to keep our hot bodies from touching each other.

“I’ve missed you,” he rasped.

“I’m right here,” I told him and guided his hand to my sex.

He pushed a finger inside me, and we both groaned. “I’ve been thinking about doing this all night. I could barely listen to my client through dinner because images of you in that sexy swimsuit kept racing through my head.”

We kissed until I shuddered hard against his hand. Then he moved between my legs and finally gave us both what we needed.

Later, when he held me against his chest, it felt like before. The before when we were connected and on the same page. Maybe that was why I decided to say something.

“Guess who called me today?”

Esteban kissed the top of my head and asked, “Who?”

“Julissa from down the street. She’s throwing a baby shower for her daughter in a few weeks and asked if I’d make some of my lemon scones for the party. She even wants to pay me.”

I’d been so excited after I’d hung up the phone that I’d almost called him right then. But telling him now, like this, was so much better.

I was wrong.

Esteban pulled away from me. “Pay you? You’re not some caterer for hire. Who in the hell does she think she is?”

Although I could barely see his face, his anger was unmistakable.

I sat up and pulled the sheet against my nakedness. “Why are you so upset? I thought you’d be proud of me. Julissa goes all out for her parties and only hires the best. That means she thinks my scones are the best. I want to do it.”

“Absolutely not. The women who will be at the baby shower are the same women you see at the club or on your committees. You don’t think they’ll use this opportunity to treat you differently? Don’t you remember how hard it was for you when we first got married? You finally feel like you belong. Why would you want to risk that?”

He wasn’t wrong. How many times had I come home crying after some stuck-up snob had made a snide comment about me being a gold digger? Or pretending to be nice to my face, only to make fun of me behind my back?

Since when had I gone from hating these women to becoming one of them?

That made me want the job even more. “But Esteban, I . . . I need . . . something for myself.”

He wasn’t backing down. “I thought we agreed that when we got married, you were going to give up any notions about a catering business.”

A different kind of heat ran through my body. “I didn’t agree to that. And you know it. I said I’d wait, and now I’m done waiting. You promised me.”

Esteban got off the bed and walked to his closet on the other side of the bedroom. But before he went inside, he said, “And you promised me a baby.”

So much for being on the same page.





Chapter Seventeen


GRACIE


“What do you think of the new PE teacher?”

I had just come back from escorting students and parents across the parking lot, and Sister Patricia’s question nearly made me stumble over the curb. It was after school, and we were on traffic duty.

I thought carefully about my response before answering. “The students seem to like him okay.”

It was the truth. My own students sang his praises every Wednesday after they returned from whatever activity he’d had them complete.

Sister Patricia waved the line of cars forward. “Yes, I suppose. Still, there’s something about him that doesn’t sit quite well with me.”

“Really?” My voice sounded more interested than I wanted it to seem.

“You must feel it too. That’s why you never talk to him, right?”

My head jerked up to face her. “I talk to him.”

She shrugged and waved at the cars again. “Well, you say hello. But I’ve never seen you have an actual conversation with the man.”

I thought about the last few days. I’d seen Tony in the teachers’ lounge for our weekly staff meeting and also on the playground during recess. Not exactly the best opportunities to really chat. Part of me had wondered if I should go and ask him about the fall fiesta. The committee was scheduled to meet next week, and we still hadn’t brainstormed any plans. I had held back from bugging him about it. Mostly because I didn’t want him to think I was making up excuses just to talk to him. But today Sister Catherine had popped her head in during tutoring and mentioned how much she was looking forward to hearing our plans and was going to earmark twenty minutes on the agenda just for us. I had no idea if Tony wanted to brainstorm with me or come up with his own ideas, and I’d convinced myself it was never the right time to approach him.