Unbreak My Heart(53)

*

Kana: The rest of my band is back in town. Want to stop by the Pink Zebra and see us play? We can grab a tea after.





That sounds like a fantastic way to spend an evening.

I write back with a yes.

Then, as the city does everything but sleep, I strip Holland to nothing, and I kiss her all over. I make her moan, make her writhe, take her to the edge of pleasure. Her hands are everywhere on me—my back, my shoulders, my head.

She tugs my hair harder than she ever has, and I love it. I just fucking love it. When she comes again, I roll to my back and pull her on top of me.

I thread a hand into her hair, bringing her face close to mine. “I want to watch you as you ride me,” I whisper.

She shivers, lowering herself onto me. She sighs so greedily, so beautifully. I moan loudly.

She’s on birth control now, and it’s out of this world to feel all of her against all of me.

She rocks on me, moving up and down, swiveling her hips, taking me deep. She looks like a goddess, all that blonde hair spilling down her back, her skin glowing in the moonlight.

I bring my hand between her legs, intensifying her pleasure. She trembles and groans. Soon, I’m treated to my favorite sight: Holland, falling apart, coming undone, saying my name.

The world becomes a blur of electricity and heat as I join her.

She falls asleep in my arms, naked and sated, her warm body wedged against mine all night long. Soft fur presses to my feet, and my dog lets out a snore in the middle of the night.

Yes, this is everyday living. This is everyday loving.



*

We get ready together.

We say goodbye to Sandy together, giving her a peanut-butter-filled Kong that’ll keep her happy for the evening.

We hold hands in the elevator.

We talk on the train to Roppongi.

We find the Pink Zebra at the bottom of a hill, at the far end of a slim alley, down a set of steps, underground. There is no flashing sign to guide us, only a faded dark-pink one with the name in curvy letters.

Hand in hand, Holland and I walk inside, and the show begins.

I clap and cheer when Kana comes onstage and blows into the sax, her cheeks like a chipmunk’s, as if she’s Dizzy Gillespie on his trumpet.

She plays with her eyes wide open, with her body moving like she’s giving life to the instrument. Or maybe its notes are what give her so much life, so much zeal.

She notices us at the end of her solo, and her eyes light up like sparklers set off on the Fourth of July.

When the set ends, and she steals away from the band, she asks if we can head someplace quieter.

“Sure. Are you okay?”

She nods and smiles. “Yes. In your letter, which I loved, you mentioned a magnet. Silverspinner Lanes.”

“Right. I figured Ian kept it because of our last game played there.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not why he kept it.”

“It’s not?”

When we find a quiet café still open, and Kana sits down, the vulnerable look in her eyes and the way she places her hand on her belly tell me exactly why Silverspinner Lanes isn’t about me.

“There’s something I’m finally ready to tell you.”





35





Andrew



My hands tremble. My head echoes with her last words. The café becomes a strange, surreal place, and as the waiter walks to us, it feels as if he’s moving in slow motion. He’s coming to take our order, and I’m not sure how people can eat on a night like this, how they can drink.

Questions and more questions zip through my brain, but when I open my mouth to speak, I’m not sure I know how to form words anymore.

“How?” is the only word I get out, and I instantly realize how stupid it sounds. I shake my head. “How far?”

Kana’s eyes are nervous, and she fidgets with a napkin as she quietly says, “Five months. I only started showing a few days ago.”

The waiter arrives and interrupts us, asking if we want a drink. Holland quickly takes over, ordering club sodas all around.

When he leaves, Kana thanks her for ordering.

Holland is practically bouncing in the seat. I snap my gaze to her, and a dark thought crosses my mind. Did she know about this? Did she hide this from me? But just as quickly as the thought appears, it’s gone.

Holland is the dictionary definition of honest. She wouldn’t do that. She’s simply excited, and she stretches her hand across the table to squeeze Kana’s. “I’m so happy for you.”

Like that, I know how I’m supposed to feel. What felt strange and surreal crystallizes. Because I see it in the curve of Kana’s lips, and the way she whispers thank you, and in the tears that slip down her cheeks. “I didn’t say anything when you first came to town because I wanted to be certain. Some people wait until the end of the first trimester, but I wanted to wait for the twenty-week ultrasound—to know the baby is healthy. I had it a couple days ago, and . . .” She stops to wipe a tear, a happy one, when she says, “The baby’s perfect.”

Holland covers her mouth with her hand. Her voice is full of potholes when she says, “That’s the best news. Well, the baby is the best news. I’m so happy for you.”

A smile stretches across my face. “So am I, Kana. I’m thrilled,” and I mean it.