across the table to Blake, who was rerolling the blueprints that needed to be stored.
Blake turned from the pigeonhole where the blueprints were kept and focused on Steven. His brows drew together in concern. “I’m listening.”
Steven linked his fingers together while his tumbling thoughts settled down. “It’s about Mia.”
The frown line deepened. “Is she okay? She’s not ill...pregnant?”
Steven released a short chuckle. “Naw, none of the above.”
“Oh, cool. So what is it?”
“Man, I don’t even know where to start or if I’m making something out of nothing.”
“Start at the spot that’s buggin’ you the most.”
He ran his tongue across his lips and blew out a breath, leaning slightly forward. “Me and Mia have this bangin’ sex life, no pun intended. Anyway, lately she hasn’t been there, ya know what I mean?”
Blake nodded.
“I know my woman. I know her body and I know when she’s faking.”
Blake’s eyes widened.
“She acts like she’s into it but I can tell she’s not. And last night...” His voice drifted off. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to tell his buddy that he couldn’t satisfy his woman.
“Have you talked to her?”
“I’d feel like an idiot. It’s probably just in my head.”
“If it’s in your head, it got there for a reason.”
Steven was silent for a moment, trying to pinpoint the date and source of his unease. “I guess it started about two weeks ago. She’s been distracted and kinda secretive. I mean, I’ve walked in on her a couple of times and she shuts the computer off or abruptly ends a call. And she’s been evasive when I ask what she was working on. Then the whole sex thing.” He looked away.
Blake was quiet for a moment. He’d been in Steven’s shoes, or at least his wife, Savannah, had been in Steven’s shoes. Tristan Montgomery—a client—had decided that she wanted Blake as an addendum to their business contract, and she made life very difficult for him, to a point that he seriously considered ending the contract, returning the money and moving on. The tension played havoc with his marriage and Tristan’s tireless come-ons could wear down the best of men. But he couldn’t imagine that someone was hovering in the background of Steven and Mia’s relationship. Unfortunately, however, anything was possible even in the best relationship.
“Look, man,” Blake said, straddling a chair and bracing his forearms along the top. “You know the mess I went through with Tristan. The only thing that saved me and Savannah was talking. Once I let Savannah know what was really going on, it removed her doubts, it gave me strength and then as a team we dealt with it together.”
“I guess the thing that shakes me the most is that it’s always been me who was holding all the cards, the one who raised the questions, the one who got to walk away.”
“Hey, hold on. That’s taking it to the extreme, don’t you think?”
“I know, I know, I’m just saying...I feel out of my element. I’ve never let a woman get this close to me. And move in with a woman!” He snorted. “I took a big chance with Mia. If she messes over me...” He shook his head.
“We all thought we were playas until the right woman came along. Even you couldn’t outplay me until Savannah came along,” he teased.
That drew an appreciative chuckle from Steven. “So whatcha sayin’? I’m your wingman?”
“And a damn good one, too,” Blake said, laughter rumbling over his words. “Bottom line, my brother, you have to admit that your playa card had been pulled. And the sooner you accept that and give in to what you feel for her, all that other macho BS about being in control and in charge won’t mean jack. But you gotta talk to her. Tell her how you feel, what’s been on your mind.”
The waning afternoon light played on Steven’s eyes, turning them a darker shade of grayish green.
“Yeah, guess I’m gonna have to. This just isn’t my thing, spilling my guts.”
Blake gave a crooked smile. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Do me a favor.”
“Sure.”
“See if you can pick Savannah’s brain. Maybe Mia might have said something to her.”
“I’ll try. But haven’t you heard of the girlfriend oath?”
Steven frowned. “The girlfriend oath?”
“Yeah, no boys allowed.”
* * *
When Steven arrived home, he had every intention of talking with Mia, as Blake had suggested. But the truth was, talking about insecurities and being vulnerable to a woman didn’t sit well with him.
He lived by the example set by his father. A man was a man. Men didn’t cry, show fear or give in to their emotions. You never let a woman get beyond those defenses, no matter how much you loved them. If a woman could get to you in that way, then your enemies could get to you through her.
His father, Frank Long, had been a street hustler since his early teens and carried the mantra of the street deep in his soul. Although Steven knew that his father loved his mother, there were never open displays of affection or words of love tossed freely around. Frank showed his love through things. They had a stunning home on Sugar Hill in Harlem. His mother had more jewelry than she would ever wear, and he and his brother and sister never wanted for anything.
It was his mother, Grace, who provided the affection, some softness in their lives, but his father’s lessons and the way he lived his life were heavily ingrained in Steven.
He knew he felt deeply for Mia, more than any woman he’d been with. She anchored him and he didn’t want to be with anyone else—this was a first for him. Having more than one woman at a time had been a way of life for him. It kept him from becoming too involved, caring too much. Steven Long was a playa to his heart, but as Blake had clearly pointed out, Mia had pulled his card.
Did that mean he was in love? Or in deep like? It must be something, he thought as he tugged off his tie en route to the bedroom. He’d given up his bachelor pad and moved in with Mia. That had to mean something, which made how Mia had been acting all the more unnerving for him.
He flicked on the bedroom light, took off his jacket and tossed it on the lounge chair near the window. He pulled the curtain back and gazed out at the street below.
Twilight was settling over the city. That in-between time of day and night when your eyes played tricks on you and things weren’t quite as they seemed.
Just as he was about to turn away, he saw Mia’s Lexus pull up in front of the building. He waited for her to exit. He loved to see her walk. When she didn’t get out, he grew curious. He peered a bit closer and the outline of her body was defined by the streetlights. She had her head down on the steering wheel. And several times she hit the wheel with her palm.
Finally, she sat up, flipped down the mirror and checked her appearance. Then sat for a couple of minutes more before she gathered her things and got out. He watched her approach the building; the usual bounce and sway in her step was missing. Mia usually walked as if she was ready to take over the world—head held high, long smooth strides, determination etched on her face. But tonight her body language shouted defeat.
He turned away from the window once he saw her enter the building. Something must have happened at the office or with a client or with one of her friends. Mia never got rattled, so it had to be something major. Whatever it was, they’d deal with it. He heard her key in the door and went up front to meet her.
She came in and when she glanced up and saw him