“Tell me about it,” he said in as even a tone as he could manage. Never, ever had he had a conversation with one of his dates about their former lovers or boyfriends.
“His name was, or is, Gordon Thomas.” She closed her eyes again, but this time he suspected it was because her masseuse was applying kneading strokes up and down her back, a move he knew could be particularly relaxing. “He was the star of the basketball team in college, leading our school to the NCAA Championship two years in a row. I tutored him during our sophomore year.”
That last sentence explained a lot because he definitely hadn’t pictured Des as the star athlete’s girl. He knew from reviewing her CV when she’d been hired at the company that she’d graduated summa cum laude in undergrad and went on to be in the top five percent of the class to achieve her master’s degree. She was a brilliant marketing strategist.
“To make a long story very short, we fell in love and when he was drafted to the NBA, I went with him to Denver. My mother and my grandmother weren’t thrilled with the idea of me packing up to go follow some man’s dream, but in the end, they respected my decision. He played professionally for one season before sustaining a foot fracture that benched him.” She’d had her arms down by her sides, but now she moved them to fold under her head before resting her cheek on them. During the movement, he’d seen that her hands were shaking.
His arms were by his sides, and his hands fisted. If she was getting ready to say what he was thinking she was going to say...he wanted to find Gordon Thomas and punch the bastard in his face.
“I gave him six years, four of which were hell on earth. Exactly when he’d gone from the attentive, loving guy with the great smile to the controlling maniac who’d taken his injury and subsequent fall from the NBA out on me in all the worst ways possible, I have no idea.” She took a deep inhale and released it so slowly he could see her entire body vibrating with the action.
It took every ounce of control he possessed to keep still on that table. Des wouldn’t want pity, and that’s exactly how she’d take it if he went to her now and tried to console her in any way.
“Anyway, when I finally decided to leave him, I didn’t go home to Chicago, and when my mother asked what happened between him and me...” She paused.
“You didn’t tell her because you didn’t want her to know you’d been in an abusive relationship.” Finishing the sentence for her was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do. Saying those words in relation to Des had a ball of hot fury resting in the pit of his stomach.
“I didn’t want my family to know that I’d been weak and foolish. I especially didn’t want either or all of my brothers hopping on the first plane to Denver and catching a murder charge for putting Gordon out of his misery.”
Which was exactly what Maurice was contemplating at this moment.
He’d almost forgotten they were getting massages when the woman lifted his left leg, bending it at the knee slowly and pulling it back. Clearly there’d be no jumping off the table now, so he extended his arm between the tables to her. Waiting a beat for her to release her arm and accept his hand was like holding his breath just over the two and a half minutes Major had clocked him doing when they were kids.
“You’re not weak or foolish.” He hoped those words were enough. There was more he could say but not while he was feeling such insurmountable rage.
“I know I’m not. At least, now I do. But my mother was a very no-nonsense woman, which is why she remained a single mom. My father was an alcoholic, and she took no pity on him or the disease he suffered when she still had six kids to take care of. My grandmother had been a single parent as well, passing on that same strong Black-woman pride and resilience to my mother and supposedly to me. There’s no way I could tell them all that Gordon had done to me.”
He understood. No, dammit, he didn’t. He’d been furious when he’d read the vicious lies Riley’s ex had given the media when they broke up years ago, and now that rage seemed to triple as he thought of Gordon physically harming Des.
“You’re a brilliant woman, Des. That’s indisputable. And he was trash.”
She smiled. It was quick and put the light back into her eyes, so he smiled, too.
“You’re right, he is trash.” Then she moaned. “And this feels sooo good.”
He agreed. As if both masseuses knew from the heavy topic of conversation they’d been having that it was time to step up the massage, it soon became too much for either of them to speak. But he didn’t release her hand, and she didn’t do anything to change that.
CHAPTER NINE
HAVING DINNER IN her room wasn’t running. It didn’t mean that she was in the midst of a situation she couldn’t control. But Kelli’s recognition of Maurice and them being seen together so much this weekend had her feeling cautious. When she’d suggested a quiet dinner tonight after last night’s interlude, Maurice hadn’t pushed the point.
“You’re really not afraid of anything the media says, are you?”
Maurice sat across from her at the small table by the window. He’d changed out of the gray polo shirt he’d been wearing earlier and now wore a black T-shirt that fit tightly against his muscled chest. She hadn’t expected him to go to his room before dinner and show up at her door
