Chances Are (16 page)

“Take your time. I'll wait here.”

He took the seat Christine had vacated while Dione made her routine pit stops.

 

Everyone wanted to tell her what a great job they did at preparing their special dish for Thanksgiving and before she realized it, she was surrounded by the girls and their children who all wanted to share their day with her.

Her heart filled as she listened, seeing the sparkle in their eyes, the excitement in their voices, while at the same time realizing that she had been a part of making it possible.

Finally, the group broke up and returned to their apartments and Dione went back downstairs.

“Ready?”

Garrett looked at her maybe understanding for the first time just how important this place and the young women who lived there were to her.

He'd overheard snatches of the conversation from the floor above. The sounds of laughter and happiness. Dione changed people's lives—just as she was changing his. Those girls adored her, looked up to here. Whatever they were when they arrived, they were better now because of her dream.

 

“Have I told you how glad I am that you called?” Garrett asked as he drove them back to Dione's apartment.

“No. How glad are you?”

He smiled. “Words escape me.”

“Have I told you how happy I am that you accepted?”

“No. How happy?”

He stopped for a red light. She leaned over, cupped his chin in her palm and drew him toward her. “This happy,” she whispered, sealing her lips with his.

In that brief moment nothing else mattered, not their pasts, not their differences of opinion, not old hurts. The only thing that mattered was how they felt about each other. Feelings that they couldn't put a label on, or try to analyze if they were right.

A horn blared behind them and Dione pulled away, laughing.

“Aw, let them wait,” Garrett complained. “I was just getting used to that again.”

“Maybe we need a refresher course somewhere else.” Her gaze connected with his. “Maybe not tonight, but sometime soon.”

He pulled out into the intersection, making the turn onto the Prospect Park circle.

“I like the sound of that. And until
soon
comes, we can spend the time digging through the debris that keeps cropping up between us.”

“
I
like the sound of that.”

“And I say we start tomorrow. How about if I pick up you and Niyah and we go to Rockefeller Center, spend the day?”

“Sounds great. One problem though, Niyah's going back to school tomorrow.”

“But classes don't start until Monday. Does she have to go back?”

“You know how teenagers are. She loves visiting home, but she's had a taste of freedom and wants to get back to it.”

He laughed. “Well you spend the time with your daughter and you and I can get together on Saturday.” He wanted to ask her about Niyah's father; how he fit into the picture, if at all. But he figured there was enough time for that.

He pulled to a stop in front of her building. The lights were out on her floor.

“Looks like they didn't wait up,” he said.

“Actually I thought they would just so they could interrogate me.”

“Your daughter said something to me just before we left.”

“What?”

“She said I make you happy.”

Heat rushed through her.

“Do I?”

She swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered. “You do.”

“So do you, Dee.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. “It's kind of scary.”

“Happiness, or the fact that it's me?”

“Both.”

“It is for me, too.”

He took her hand. “Let's work on not being afraid. One day at a time. I want to try. Really try, Dione.”

“Let's.”

 

“You're standing me up for a guy!” Terri sputtered into the phone, trying to sound indignant but really thrilled.

“Don't be funny.”

“Who's being funny? I'm being stood up. But I hope this is a pattern.” She laughed.

“We'll see.”

“Girl, pleeze. I can hear it all in your voice. You're just as tickled as you can be. I'm glad things are working out.”

“Yes,” she admitted softly. “So am I.” She hesitated a moment. “I really like him, Terri. I mean I know it hasn't been that long, but—I just can't explain it.”

“You don't have to. I've been there remember? Just go for it. Let it take you where it will and enjoy the ride. It's long overdue. Just don't forget to stop off at your local pharmacy like you tell the girls.”

Dione laughed. “Thank you, Mother. I'll keep that in mind.”

The idea of making love with Garrett had been dancing through her thoughts since the night of their first kiss, and had intensified every time she saw him. She daydreamed, wondering what it would be like.

Her brief sexual encounters had been just that, brief and unfulfilling. She wanted this to be different when it did happen.

“Anyway, have a great time. Oh, I sent the tape off to a friend of mine, Lisa, who manages a database of national funders and foundations along with some background on Chances Are. I also sent it to six cable stations. It should start running in about a week.”

“Really! Oh, Terri, I just hope it helps.”

“It will. Don't even worry about it. I'll call you during the week with an update. In the meantime, my handsome hunk of a husband just stepped out of the shower, maybe I'll give him a reason to get back in—in about an hour or so.”

“Girl. I'll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

 

Garrett and Dione spent the entire weekend together exploring the city they'd both grown up in, but seeing it through each other's eyes. They went in and out of boutiques, tried Indian food for the first time, picked up a Kenneth Cole bag for Niyah, a floor-length robe for Betsy and a leatherbound organizer for Brenda as Christmas gifts. Dione weighed Garrett down with three shopping bags full of stuffed animals for the children at Chances Are.

Her enthusiasm and genuine pleasure that she derived from getting that something special for everyone, rubbed off on Garrett. He actually broke down and bought gifts for everyone on his staff, he even got a silk scarf for Marva. They dropped all the gifts off at Dione's house, stuck them in her closet and made a late movie.

And before they realized it, Sunday had arrived and their idyll was drawing to a close.

They sat in his car parked out in front of her building.

“I've had a beautiful weekend, Dione.”

She let out a long sigh. “So have I.”

“I guess you need to get ready for tomorrow,” he hedged, not ready for the evening to end.

Her stomach started to flutter. “It's still a little early.” She swallowed. “You want to come up for a while?”

E
ven though Dione knew her apartment as well as she knew herself, she felt as if she were walking into it and through it for the first time. Everything seemed new, seemed to vibrate with energy.

She knew what she was about to do, what they were about to do, would irrevocably change them. Change how they saw each other, thought of each other. And she wanted it. She wanted the change. She wanted Garrett.

“Would you like to listen to some music?” she asked as he helped her out of her coat.

“Sounds fine.” He took her coat, hung it up, then his while she turned on the stereo and put on Regina Bell's “If I Could.” He walked slowly up behind her and slid his arms around her waist.

“We've done everything under the sun this weekend,” he breathed against the back of her neck. “Except dance.” He turned her around in his arms. “Dance with me.”

Her heart slammed against her chest then settled as she moved into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder—so easy, so perfect as if this was where she'd always belonged.

“I would wipe away the sadness in your eyes,” Regina sang.

Garrett held her closer letting the words wash over him as he cradled Dione, memorizing her curves, the slenderness, the soft fullness.

They moved so easily together as if they'd always been one movable piece. He knew this was where he belonged.

She raised her head, looking up at him, her eyes seeming to sparkle in the dimly lit room. Suddenly she couldn't breathe when she saw the darkness in his eyes, the unspoken words that danced in their depths.

“I think
soon
has arrived,” she said on a shaky breath.

The corner of his mouth curved an instant before it took hers.

All of the air rushed out of her lungs as he crushed her body against his, became one with his. His tongue played tag with hers, darting, dodging, teasing while his hands roamed her length, caressed her hips, stroked her waist.

And then she felt his warm fingers sneak under her sweater to trail along her back. She shivered as the tips of his fingers toyed with her spine, up and down in long, slow strokes, along her sides until they found the curve of her breasts, setting her on fire.

She moaned against his mouth and he pulled her tighter needing to cut off the space, the air between them. He couldn't get close enough. He wanted her under his skin, to seep into his soul.

Their breathing seemed to rise with the crescendo of the music matching it beat for beat until they breathed one breath.

Garrett eased up her sweater, inch by inch and the cool air that hit her bare skin quickly became heated by his touch.

“Gary,” she whispered against his mouth. “Come inside.”

Reluctantly he released her, and she took his hand, leading him into her bedroom.

Through the towering windows the moon lit the room with a soft white, near-perfect light, just enough to cast a soft silhouette around them.

She started with the top button of his shirt, opening it, surprising herself with the steadiness of her hands, which Garrett caressed as he watched his skin appear beneath her fingertips.

Pushing the shirt aside, she ran her hands across his chest, teased the tiny brown nipples until they peaked. She surprised herself with her boldness. She'd never been that way with a man before. But with Garrett she felt new, daring, needing to break free of her self-imposed restraints.

Halting her exploration of his body, he lifted the hem of her sweater and pulled it up and over her head.

His stomach shifted when he looked down at the lushness of her breasts, full to overflowing in the mint-green lace bra. Deftly he unhooked it and slipped the straps from her shoulders, freeing her.

“You're beautiful, Dione,” he uttered as the pads of his thumbs grazed the tips of her breasts, hardening them.

Her eyes squeezed shut when his mouth covered her right breast, drawing in as much as he could, gently suckling, his tongue teasing. A tremor rippled through her in concert with the moan that escaped her lips. Her knees felt weak and she clung to him even as he guided her back toward her bed.

Item by item he meticulously removed her clothes, slowly like an artist creating a masterpiece until she was bare and beautiful before him.

She wanted to scream at him to hurry, to stop the fire that scorched her insides and rushed to her brain. But he took his time removing his clothes and preparing for her, and then he stood above her, the light from the window outlining his form and she was instantly reminded of an ebony god captured in the moonlight.

But Garrett wasn't finished with his leisurely pursuit of her. For what seemed a tortuous eternity he roamed across her flesh with deft fingertips and luscious laves of his tongue setting tiny, little fires along her skin.

“Gary—” She arched her body against him, needing the contact, the feel of his bare skin against hers. She stroked him, running her hands along the column of his back, memorizing the landscape of his skin, the smooth and rough texture of it. The feeling of his muscles expanding and contracting beneath her caress—everything about him excited her, especially the hungry, deep-in-the throat words he uttered in her ears, against her neck, between the warmth of her breasts.

Beautiful. So sweet. Need you. Touch me. Yesss.

Yesss. In concert they met, joined and became one perfect symphony, conducting the rise and fall, the frenetic and languid tempo with their fingers and mouths, thrusting arching of hips.

Garrett felt himself being pulled away, freefalling, his body no longer under his control, but Dione's. She had captured him, and with each tightening of her thighs he sunk deeper under her spell.

But in his soul he believed she wouldn't let him fall.

Heaven, she thought, as wave after wave of unspeakable pleasure flowed through her body, fueled with a new energy, creating its own natural high. For the first time that she'd been with a man since Michael, so many years ago, she didn't feel dirty or ashamed of what she was doing with Garrett, of what she was allowing her body to feel.

Her father's harsh, hurtful words had so traumatized her about the low she'd sunk to, she'd never been able to open herself mentally or physically to simply enjoy the pleasure of making love. Buried deep in her soul was the feeling that it was sinful and ugly.

But with Garrett, she allowed herself to enjoy her body—enjoy being touched, whispered to. The sensations that ran rampant within her were not ones of fear but pure and simple bliss.

When he whispered how good she felt to him, how good she made him feel, she didn't feel like the “sneaky little slut,” but a beautiful, desirable woman who could give as well as receive pleasure.

He took his time with her, guiding her, coaxing her mind and body to new heights, almost as if he sensed her doubts about her femininity, her womanhood. And because of his gentle, but steady pulsing persuasion to relax and release, she finally felt herself floating free of the restraints that had bound her.

“Come with me,” he urged in her ear.

“Take me there,” she whispered in return.

And the word games they played took on a brand-new meaning. The simple command and response brought their bodies into perfect sync, drew them nearer, closer to their ultimate destination.

Dione took the trip with him wandering over the valleys and across waters that she had no fear of treading. She seemed to see him just above the crest of the hill, waiting for her, holding on, reaching for her.

She reached upward in one last burst and he took her up and across the divide where she joined him among the stars.

 

Garrett marveled at the wonder they'd experienced together. Lying with Dione cradled in his arms he began to feel that all those other times, with all those other women, was to have this piece of perfection to compare the prior emptiness with. He pulled her closer.

“It's—been a long time for me, Gary,” she uttered in a breath.

He was silent a moment while he stroked her hair. “Why now?” He felt her ripple with barely controlled laughter.

“I've been thinking about it almost from the moment we met.” She laughed softly.

“You're kidding.” He angled his body to be able to look in her face, which was contorted with merriment.

“You! Ms. In Control, always cool.” His smile was slow and intimate. “Well, Ms. Williams you have made me believe in the saying ‘still waters run deep.' What other little secrets are running beneath those waters?”

“Mmm. I was just thinking—maybe I need some more practice—you know just to make sure I haven't forgotten anything.”

“Oh, believe me, baby,” he uttered moving over her yielding body. “You could teach me a thing or two, or three. But—” he kissed her softly “—just to make sure…”

 

Awakening the following morning to find herself curved in Garrett's arms filled her with a sense of total peace. She'd been like the lone woman in the desert who'd finally, after an exhaustive search, found the oasis.

She sighed, taking a mental inventory of her body from the toes to the top of her head. Everything tingled with life, sparked by energy, and every unused muscle ached.

She smiled. But they ached so good.

“'Mornin',” he mumbled, and tickled her stomach.

She swatted his hand away, giggling. “Good morning.”

He locked his arm around her waist. “You weren't planning on going anywhere were you?” He nuzzled her neck and a little forest fire erupted. His fingers strolled up her waist until they reached her breasts where he stopped to reacquaint himself with their fullness.

All during the previous night, he kept waking up just to make sure the wonderful feeling of being with Dione wasn't a dream.

It wasn't. They were here. Together. His heart settled.

“We can't stay here forever,” she sighed, a shudder rippling through her as he added fuel to the fire.

“I don't…see why not.” He took a nipple into his mouth, gently flicking it with his tongue until it peaked.

Her eyes squeezed shut, a moan escaping her lips as her body rose to meet his.

“I guess we can,” she sighed.

 

In the final weeks before Christmas they fell into a comfortable routine that seemed as if this was what they'd always done. After work, Garrett would come by and Dione would fix dinner, or he'd surprise her with reservations at a restaurant or for a play.

Some evenings they spent at his apartment and Dione would leave from there in the morning to go to work.

Happiness from the inside out was a part of who she was becoming and Garrett, day by day, was looking forward to all the tomorrows. And Dione was daring to feel that, yes, it was all right to be cared about.

One long, lazy Sunday afternoon they spent watching old movies on the classic movie station on cable. They even saw one of the PSAs that Garrett had shot and Dione was so thrilled for him, just bursting with pride to even know him, she hugged and kissed him as if he'd just won the Oscar. Sharing her joy, seeing his vision through her eyes lent a new significance to what he did. And he realized for the first time, perhaps, that he could make a difference, too.

They listened to Dione's treasured Billie Holiday album and concluded that “God Bless the Child” was their absolute favorite song.

“It says so much,” Dione said, as the song came to an end for the third time. “You have to have something to work with to be able to help yourself.” She blew out a breath. “That's what I try to do for those girls every day.”

“Seems like they appreciate it, Dee.”

She looked at him, trying to see if he really meant it, or just felt it was the thing to say. But what surprised her in his expression was not the sincerity she found in his eyes, but the sadness.

She touched his cheek. “What is it?”

He turned slightly away. “There's a lot I've been coming to grips with, Dee. All my life, even more so since I've met you and began working on this project.” He took a long breath. “I want to resent what you do, but more so
who
you do it for. And for a while I did. I was able to push my own feelings to the forefront and the realities of what I was seeing, hearing and experiencing to the back, telling myself it was all just a fluke, maybe a front for the camera. I know it's not true. I've probably always known. But I've been carrying this—this hurt and anger around so long I couldn't bend my arms to put them down.”

He paused for a long time and Dione thought he wouldn't say more. But when he finally did, the pain he felt became hers.

“I don't know who my mother is, or my father.” His voice caught. “All I do know is that she was a teen who left me in an alley to die.”

Her stomach lurched.

Slowly and deliberately he told her about the countless group and foster homes he'd grown up in, some worse than others. His feelings of rootlessness and insecurity, how he blamed the circumstances of his life on the girl who bore him and grew to resent all the others like her.