One in a Million Read online

  "And one soda," Gregory added.

  "With two straws," they said together and fell into gales of laughter.

  "We were so broke," he reflected.

  "Were?" She sobered but her face remained lit with merriment. "Not much has changed for me." Her statement was not one of bitterness, but of fact and nothing more.

  "Those were the glory days," she added then bit in a buttered roll.

  The flavor of the food went unnoticed by Gregory as he wondered about the dreams she had in college. She was going to help the world and make it a safer place. What had she sacrificed to become a single mother?

  He glanced across the table and tried to conjure a way to navigate the conversation to Demetrius. "Oh, I almost forgot." Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of Merlot that chilled in a silver bucket of ice.

  Whitney watched him as he poured them each a third of a glass of the red wine. "Thanks."

  The table became quiet as they concentrated on the meal in front of them. The silence grew heavier as the seconds passed. The Grandfather clock struck eight and Gregory and Whitney jumped as if a bomb exploded when a loud chime saturated the small apartment.

  They laughed at each other. Through the subtle candlelight, Gregory watched as her face stained with embarrassment. The dainty display played a romantic tune on his heart strings when he realized that he was doing it again, he was falling for this beautiful bundle of storm and sunshine.

  Gregory placed his fork down in a slow, deliberate motion, leaned back in his chair and donned a serious expression. "Whitney, we need to talk."

  The power of his seductive voice imprisoned her for the length of a heartbeat before she visibly shook herself to escape. She dropped her gaze to stare at her half eaten meal then pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

  "I know," she whispered, snatching her wine glass to drain the rest of its contents.

  He refilled the glass. The rise and fall of her chest caught his attention as the effect pushed her breasts forward. With admirable control, he forced his focus back to her face.

  Whitney willed her emotions to remain calm, then met his questioning gaze with a cool reserve. "I guess the best thing to do is get everything out in the open and be done with it." The short pep talk was mostly for herself.

  When she took another deep breath, Gregory shifted in his seat as he watched the sweet torture. "I agree." The gravel sound in his voice had him reach for another sip of wine.

  She nodded but took a moment to find the right words. "I thought this would be easy, especially after so much time has passed. It isn't." Removing the napkin from her lap, she dabbed the corners of her mouth, leaned back, then crossed her legs before looking at him.

  "When we met--" She smiled. "That wonderful summer quarter at Georgia State University, I thought that you--" The smile faltered, then beamed again as she found more courage. "I thought that you were heaven sent. I never lied to you about being engaged to Michael."

  Gregory poured more wine into his glass.

  "I wasn't looking... we weren't looking to fall in love. But we did. And I remember those days as if they were yesterday. No one had ever made me feel the way you did." She stopped and reflected on that summer while capturing her lower lip between her teeth. "And no one has since," she added after a couple of heartbeats.

  Gregory swallowed. Memories of those days played in living color in his mind and with a clarity that startled him.

  "Everything was perfect," she said, when he tuned back in. "We were perfect. During that summer, I can't remember a moment when we weren't together. Those days play like old records in my head."

  "Mine, too."

  Whitney focused her attention on an empty space on the table. "But when it came time for me to return to California, you never once asked me to stay. You knew I was returning to Michael. And I knew you were returning to Cynthia."

  "You had already made your choice." The statement sounded like an accusation.

  “And so had you.” She hugged herself. “Look, we both were engaged to other people. I think what we thought made us safe from each other was an illusion.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you marry Cynthia?”

  He didn’t answer immediately. “It didn’t work out.”

  His answer revealed nothing, and Whitney waited through the awkward silence.

  Gregory reached for his glass and whirled the ruby liquid before his lips. “End of story.” He took a sip.

  She believed the opposite was true, and waited.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t…couldn’t marry her,” Gregory went on. He set downhis glass. “When the fall quarter started, things were different. Cynthia was different.” He seemed to be talking more to himself than to her. “Or maybe, I was different, I’m not quite sure.”

  Whitney leaned over and reached for his hand. "Our choices were made before we met. You gave no indication that you wanted me for yourself. If anything, you threw in my face your love of bachelorhood."

  The words he had spoken out of pain echoed from his subconscious. He knew there was a fiancé waiting for her in California; but she, too, gave no evidence that she wanted to stay. If anything, she seemed voracious to return home.

  "How did you feel?" She released his hand as apprehension fused with her questioning gaze. She caught the corner of her lip between her teeth and felt her breath lodge inside her throat.

  This was his big chance, his chance to clear up the past. How do you tell the woman that you spent the last decade loving that you said all those hurtful words just to save face?

  "I loved...and still love you." Their gazes glistened and mirrored each other. "I will always love you."

  The air trapped in Whitney's lungs expelled in one long sigh. She had waited a lifetime for those words. If this was a dream, she wished she'd never wake up.

  "Then...why?" she heard herself ask.

  Gregory held his hand out across the table. She looked at it, then looked back into his soft expression as she placed her own inside his hand.

  He took his time to make sure he said everything right. Pride had been their enemy and tonight they needed to conquer it. "I've dreamed about that wondrous summer over the years with heartache and regret," he began in a voice thick with emotion. "I did and said so many things just to save my pride. But it wasn't worth it. I lost the one thing that meant the world to me." He squeezed her hand. "You."

  She compressed her lips together, but they continued to tremble. An exquisite feeling of love blossomed in her heart. He loved her. He had always loved her.

  "What a pair we make," was her wispy reply. She relished the way his fingers played along her knuckles. "I loved you, you loved me and we spent the last ten years avoiding each other."

  "Why didn't you find me before today?" He hoped for a solid answer.

  "Why didn't you try to find me?" she asked.

  Silence.

  Her smile faltered. "I thought that you loved Cynthia. It wasn't until recently, when I read an article about you and Tech Design in Time, I learn you never married. The phone lines work both ways."

  He had wanted to. God knows he wanted to call her over the years. He wondered everyday of his life what had become of her, what had become of her life.

  "Pride," he finally admitted.

  Whitney reached her other hand across the table to entomb his own. "That's my answer, too."

  Gregory brought his free hand across the table and they held each other while they reflected over the wasted years that had passed them by.

  "It nearly killed me, you know." He lifted a hand to caress her face. "That day at the airport when I watched you board that plane."

  "It killed me to leave." She took a calming breath. "I had made a commitment to Michael. But it was a commitment we had arranged since we were kids. We grew up together, we were comfortable together."

  "But it was a commitment nonetheless."

  "I know." She placed a hand over his that caressed her face. "Michael and I have been best frien
ds for as long as I can remember. We had the same dreams and inspirations. We loved each other."

  Gregory fought for control of his emotions.

  "But we weren't in love."

  Hope returned to his heart.

  "Michael and I were never intimate. And it wasn't until after that summer that he acknowledged the fact that he could never feel a certain way towards me because he was...was gay."

  Gregory rocked back in his chair and stared at her. He dropped his hand but she continued to hold on to it. "Listen to me. Our engagement was just two best friends marrying for all the wrong reasons. We thought that since both of us wanted political careers, we would complement each other." She pulled away and shook her head.

  "I know it sounds silly and looking back on it now, I know that it was. But I didn't think I could ever find anything better than what I had with Michael. He loved me, in his own way, and the respect we had for each other, why, we thought it was enough. But then you waltzed into my life and changed everything."

  The room grew loud with silence.

  "What happened when you returned?" Gregory finally asked, still stunned from the news.

  "I had to be honest with him. I told him about you. I couldn't marry him and he understood. That's when he shared his secret with me. When we discovered I was pregnant with Demetrius, he asked me to marry him again. He didn't want me to try and raise a child on my own."

  Gregory grudgingly developed a new respect for this man he had never met. A man who was willing to raise another's child.

  "I turned him down, but he still helps me whenever I need him. Demetrius calls him Uncle Mike. He helped get Demetrius into all types of sports, even played Santa Claus every Christmas."

  Gregory smiled. Yes, he liked the man.

  "Now Michael's in an open and committed relationship with a companion. I'm happy for them."

  Gregory needed time to take in all of this. She was never in love with Michael? And the man he had hated for ten years, had been jealous of, was a man who had been there for the two people he loved.

  During the strained silence, Gregory thought how everyone seemed to be a victim of circumstance.

  "I would like to propose a toast." He lifted his glass.

  She arched an eyebrow and met his gaze.

  "To new beginnings." He held the glass over the middle of the table. The sudden mist in her eyes didn't go unnoticed by him.

  Whitney blinked to camouflage her tears, then raised her glass to make them clink together. "To new beginnings."

  The telephone rang. Whitney jumped, then excused herself from the table an answered the phone in the living room.

  "Hello."

  Gregory watched her when her face welcomed an easy smile.

  "Hey, Yolanda."

  Gregory's eyes roamed across every curve of her body. He took another sip of his wine and noticed her voices lowered to a whisper. When hung the phone up, she turned and gave him an apologetic express. "That was my neighbor."

  As she took her seat, their eyes locked in a blaze of passion leaped like open flames. They controlled their emotions like skilled performers and returned their attention back to the dinner. Both of them were careful with their words as the night took an uncharted destination where neither were prepared for the journey.

  Gregory battled of concealing his feelings as he watched her eyes, her mouth, and even the gentle rise and fall of her breasts. Fantasy soon ruled his thoughts; he longed to see her lying in a black silk haven with her mesmerizing body molded in red lace lingerie while her hair framed her face and streamed down her shoulders. He wanted her, wanted to make love to her until both had cried out their names into the heavens.

  Whitney lifted her ginger-brown eyes to probe into his midnight gaze from across the table. In addition to the quickening heart rate, and the funny African dance that performed in her stomach, she swore the apartment's temperature had soared at least twenty degrees. She tried to ease her parched lips with another sip of wine.

  Fascinated, he watched her pink tongue dart across those voluptuous lips and felt himself harden with desire. "What do we do now?" she asked softly.

  He reached out and touched her angelic face. Her features could have hypnotized Michelangelo and captivated Monet. Gregory wanted and needed to know the answer to his question first.

  "Do you think it's too late for us?"

  She blinked, then answered in a whisper. "I hope not."

  He stood from his chair and approached her. This time when he offered for her hand, she didn't hesitate. He pulled her into her arms, then captured her wine flavored lips in a sweet tantalizing kiss.

  Whitney's world exploded as he intoxicated her senses. Her arms wrapped around him as she tried to fuse their bodies together. She couldn't get close enough it seemed. When they pulled their lips apart, her head swam in a pool of desire.

  "I want another chance." He gazed down into her eyes. "I want you."

  His voice, husky and seductive, melted whatever defenses she had left as pleasure, unlike anything she had ever known, swirled and gripped her soul. She trembled breathlessly as, once again, his lips lowered to claim her own. In a silent melody, their tongues danced until she became dizzy.

  Gregory crested on the edge of madness when he felt her body arch against him. The wild fluttering in his soul grew into a ravishing hunger that threatened to consume him. He couldn't get enough.

  Whitney found strength to pull away. Her hands shook as she threaded them through her hair. "We need to slow down," she panted with huge gulps of air.

  "It has been ten years, sweetheart." He laughed. "If we go any slower we'll be eligible for Medicare before we're married."

  Her eyes widened from his casual statement of marriage. Is he serious?

  "I meant it as a joke," he added at her shocked expression. When she smiled back at him, he wondered why he had really made the declaration. He turned his attention away from her and walked over to the stereo. "I can't believe some of the stuff you have over here."

  Her mood lightened. "The classics never die." She joined him down on the floor while he thumbed through her eight-track collection.

  In a flash he whipped out one of them, turned on the system, and played his section. Peaches and Herb 70's classic Reunited filtered through the speakers.

  Whitney laughed.

  Gregory stood and offered a hand to her. She accepted then locked herself in his embrace. As they rocked from side to side, Gregory hummed along with the song. She closed her eyes and listened as his rich baritone seduced her heart.

  When he stopped, she pulled back and looked up at him. "I want another chance," he whispered again.

  The intensity of his gaze sparked a fire in the pit of her stomach. The blunt announcement had her heart drumming to a different rhythm. But a voice, sarcastic in its criticism, nagged her from the back of her mind and she had no other choice than to express her fears.

  "What if we don't have what it takes? We have both changed in a lot of ways."

  "Sounds like a challenge." His eyebrows arched inquiringly.

  "This isn't a business acquisition." She moved out of his arms. "I have to admit it's wonderful being able to see you again. But I think we need to be realistic. Do we really have what it takes for a new relationship?"

  "We already have a new relationship. You are the mother of my child."

  "Is that the real reason you want me back in your life?"

  There was an accusation in that statement and he had to acknowledge the words hurt. His hands gripped at his sides before he forced them into his pockets. "I don't know what you want me to say."

  She shook her head solemnly. "It's not about what I want you to say. It's about what you want."

  "All I know is I love you." He said then waited to let his words sink in. "The only way we are ever going to find out, if we have what it takes, is if we gamble. Our odds had to be one in a million for us to have this second chance. I know I'm willing to take the risk. Are you?"
r />   Chapter Five

  Whitney didn't trust herself to speak. It took every ounce of courage she had to maintain eye contact, to control her heart's wild palpitation, and to catch her very breath. Their silence crashed like a tidal wave as they stood facing each other. All of her dreams were within her grasp. She only had to say the words, express what was in her heart for her fantasy to become a reality.

  Resembling models posed in an intimate oil painting, time seized to exit for them.

  "You're making me nervous," he gave a nervous laugh.

  "You sort of took me by surprise." She also tried to laugh, but the seriousness of his question, made her attempt a more somber approach. "I still have feelings for you. I don't deny that. But I'm afraid." She hugged herself and walked away. "It isn't about just you and me any more. I have a ten year-old son to consider."

  "We have a ten-year old son to consider," he corrected.

  Whitney pivoted to look at him.

  Pain had transformed his solemn expression. "Demetrius is my responsibility, too." He pointed to his chest for emphasis. "I want what is best for him, too. I want what's best for all of us." He reached out to stroke the smooth texture of her skin. "Let me make you happy."

  Tears filled her eyes as the slow recline of his head hypnotized her. The feathery brush of his lips forced a small bud of desire to bloom in her heart. When the kiss deepened, her arms glided behind his neck and drew him closer. Passion overpowered her as she tried to explored every inch of his mouth.

  When their lips broke away, Whitney inhaled a huge gulp of air. Her knees weakened from the heat of his breath caressing her face. Gregory placed his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face toward him.

  "Can we try again?"

  She paused and searched his gaze for answers. "Yes," she answered from her heart.

  He kissed her again, then moved away from her mouth. "Are you sure?"

  She leaned into the kiss.

  Gregory moaned from the wild dance her tongue performed along the planes of his mouth. When she tried to embed the curves of her into the missing links of his body, his knees weakened.

  Whitney pulled away to answer. "I've never been so sure of anything in my entire life."