Too Little, Too Late (27 page)

H
IS BACK ACHED
.

Hosea stretched, but there wasn’t enough room. His eyes blinked opened and he wondered where he was.

“Hey, you.” Natasia sauntered around the sofa, the hem of the short robe she wore fluttered high around her hips. Handing him a coffee mug, she said, “I thought you’d want some of this when you woke up,” and she tossed the blanket that covered him onto the floor before she slid next to him on the couch.

“Thanks.” Hosea took a quick sip, and tried not to stare at Natasia. But his eyes didn’t oblige.

She leaned back and her robe spread open, revealing the barely there black teddy underneath.

He forced his eyes away. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”

“Not a problem. I’ll always be here for you, Hosea.”

He glanced at her once more. Swallowed hard as he watched her chest swell with each breath. “You can go and…get dressed or something…if you want.”

She looked straight at him. “I don’t want.” Leaned back, exposed more. “I’m fine.”

He sipped more coffee and wondered if he needed something cooler.

Last night, when he banged on her door, she had been wearing a floor-length bathrobe. He took another quick peek and wondered why she’d changed. Then he wondered why he was being so stupid. He needed to get out of there.

“What time is it?” he asked, putting the cup down.

“A bit after eleven.”

He stretched. “I can’t believe I slept this late.”

“Well, it was after four when you got here.”

He remembered that. And everything else. Every bit of yesterday had stayed with him as he tried to sleep. He couldn’t rid his mind of Jasmine and her lies. Of Jasmine and her affair with Brian. “I need to get…to the studio,” he said, thinking that he really wanted to go home. But to what?

She touched his arm. “You have plenty of time. I called Brittney. Everything’s covered.”

He felt a bit relieved. Going into the office wasn’t what he wanted to do right now—his bones still ached with fatigue. With hurt, and anger, and shock. Still, he couldn’t stay here.

“So do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

He had walked into this hotel with every intention of talking to Natasia. But the moment she’d opened the door, her inquiring eyes plagued him with guilt. Made him wonder what he was really doing here with a woman he once loved.

“I…just need a place to crash. Just for tonight…the rest of tonight,” was what he’d said.

There was not one moment of hesitation. She opened the door wide and invited him in—and into her bed.

“No.” He’d shaken his head when she tried to lead him that way. “I’ll take the couch. If that’s a problem, I’ll just—”

“Not a problem,” she’d said quickly. “I just wanted you to be comfortable. But if you’re fine with the couch, I’ll get a couple of blankets.”

He’d taken off his shoes and leaned back. Thought about all that Alexis had said, all that Kyla had told him.

And every lie that Jasmine had ever spoken.

When Natasia had returned, he pretended to already be asleep. He didn’t move when she draped the blanket over him. And kept the façade even when he felt her standing, watching him. Soon she’d left him alone and he’d spent a restless night with dreams full of lies and deception starring Jasmine and Brian.

He inhaled deeply and Natasia rested her hand on top of his, bringing his thoughts back to now. “Hosea, I want to help.”

This time, he didn’t hide his glance. Looked straight at her. Devoured her. Wondered how much of his pain she could take away.

She whispered, “You could have gone anywhere last night. But you came to me. So don’t shut me out now.”

My wife is a liar and a cheat
. “Jasmine and I are having some problems,” he began as a test.

She breathed, as if her relief was inside his admission. “She doesn’t make you happy.”

He thought about those words. He’d been so happy with Jasmine. Loved her with a love he’d never known before. But was that possible anymore? Did she love him, or had she fallen all the way for Brian?

Maybe Brian and Jasmine were getting together for the sake of their baby.

When he groaned with that thought, Natasia slipped from the couch and knelt at his feet.

“Hosea,” she whispered in that voice that made his insides yearn. “You’ve been through so much with Jasmine. The baby—”

He winced, but she held his hands, made him stay. Made him listen.

“She can’t make you happy. But I can.”

He looked into her eyes and wondered if those words were the truth.

“I can make you forget about Jasmine.”

Was it time to forget? Was it time to finally move on?

“Natasia,” he said, knowing he needed to fight through these feelings, “I didn’t come here for this—”

“You came here for something.”

“I came here to talk.”

“Is that all you really want?” She paused. “I don’t think so…”

His breathing stopped. His heart stopped. Time stopped. Only Natasia moved—her lips aimed for his.

Commitment.
That was his thought as her mouth met his. His commitment to Jasmine. And then he thought of Brian. Brian and Jasmine together.

It was a soft kiss. At first. And then his heartache raised his urgency. He held her as if she was his freedom from the hurt. The anger. The shock.

He leaned back, bringing her with him. Kissed her, held her, caressed her, like she belonged to him.

His heart banged against his chest. And he could feel hers pounding too. Their beats were in sync. First gently. Then suddenly loud. Pounding.

It wasn’t their hearts.

He tried to push Natasia away. “The door,” he breathed. “Someone’s at the door.”

“I don’t care.” Her tongue teased his ear. Driving him further away from sanity.

The knocking kept on.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Get the door. It must be important.”

“No.” But her fingers said yes to everything else. She squeezed him. He moaned. Then she undid his belt, unzipped his pants.

His groans were as loud as the banging on the door. It was hard to think. Hard to speak. “Get…the…door.” He pushed her again, this time like he meant it.

She struggled to her feet, then staggered, drunk with lust, to the door. Swung it open. Yelled, “What—” She stopped.

Jasmine busted inside like a keg of dynamite, her rage on the verge.

She stood for a moment, her glare on a stone-still Natasia, and then she turned her fury to her husband, who was just as unmoving in his shock. When she turned back to Natasia, Jasmine’s fists were flying.

The first blow hit her target—the center of Natasia’s eye.

Natasia shrieked. Fell back.

Jasmine plunged forward like a pit bull. As if her mind was filled with a single command—kill.

Hosea jumped from the couch. Corralled his wife from behind before she could land the knock-out punch. “Jasmine!”

“You stank ho!” Jasmine screamed, fighting to get loose from Hosea’s arms.

“Jasmine! Stop it!” He squeezed her, held her, whispered, “Please, please, please,” over and over until her breathing steadied.

He kept his glance on Natasia. And with his eyes told her not to move. She obeyed.

Jasmine twisted inside his arms. Looked at him. “How could you do this?” Her question came through tears.

“I haven’t done anything, Jasmine.” She fought to break his grasp, but he held her tighter. “Listen to me,” he demanded. “I haven’t done anything, I promise.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

He looked at Natasia. “I needed a place…look, we’ll talk about this. I need you to go.”

Her eyes widened with his audacity. “I’m not going anywhere!”

“Yes. You are. Go back to our hotel. I’ll be right there.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you,” Jasmine cried, her shoulders heaving with her own hurt.

Hosea spoke with a calm he didn’t feel. “If you leave now and go home, I’ll be right there, and we can talk.”

She turned to Natasia; venom spilled from her eyes. “I’m not leaving you with her.”

Natasia held one hand to her eye. But even with that injury, she wore the victor’s veil. Didn’t say a word, but her smirk—half pain, half triumph—showed she knew she’d won.

Gently, Hosea nudged Jasmine toward the door. “Please, Jasmine,” he whispered. “You’re not like this. We’re not like this. Just go. I’ll meet you in ten minutes.”

She didn’t move on her own accord, but somehow, in the next second, she was in the hallway.

Hosea gently closed the door on his wife. Inside, he leaned against it, his hands, his forehead pushed against the dark wood.

After a silent moment, he said, “I have to go.” But he didn’t move. Stood in the same place, resting on the door.

“No.” Natasia shook her head. “Now we don’t have anything to hide.” She stepped closer to him. “What was happening, what was going to happen, was real, Hosea. And you can’t deny it anymore.”

He stayed still, not moving. Still not facing her.

She pressed against him. Her front to his back. And he felt all of her familiar places.

“Even if you leave now,” her breath was warm against his ear, “it won’t be over. So stay. Let’s finish this.”

Hosea imagined Jasmine on the other side, waiting for him, her heart, filled with agony.

Then he thought of all her lies.

Then he remembered who he was.

Swiftly he moved, slipped on his shoes. Snatched his wallet and keys. When he walked to the door, Natasia was right behind him. Her hand was on his when he grabbed the doorknob.

“No matter what you do, it’s not over between us, Hosea. I’ve known that. And now you and Jasmine know that too.”

He opened the door.

“I was your first love,” she said.

He stepped into the hallway.

“Jasmine will never be able to change that.”

He turned around. Looked at her now. Saw the mark that she wore—black and blue and red—the gift from his wife.

“I love you, Hosea,” she said. “And I know that you love me too.”

He closed the door before she could say anything more.

J
ASMINE’S BLOOD SHOT PAST BOILING
.

Raging, she paced the length of the living room, watching the clock tick away seconds that turned into minutes. She counted the time passing, ready to jump right back into her car if Hosea wasn’t standing in front of her within the next five minutes.

Watching the clock did little to keep her mind away from the images. Natasia, barely dressed. Hosea, pants undone. The one shot that she’d gotten on Natasia.

But what hurt her heart most was the way Hosea had held her and protected Natasia. And then, he’d pushed her out the door. As if she was the trespasser, the one loitering on their relationship.

Jasmine wanted to whip Natasia all over again. But that thought stopped when the front door opened.

Hosea stepped into the suite. Their eyes met. For seconds. Then with a grunt of disgust, he turned away. Dragged through the living room. Headed toward their bedroom.

“Where are you going?” she demanded.

He kept walking as if she’d hadn’t spoken.

“Hosea!” she screamed, following him.

“Where’s Jacquie?”

Now she wanted to whip him. Those were his first words to her? “She’s with Mae Frances.”

He turned to her. Said, “You shouldn’t have come to Natasia’s hotel.”

His words were a stun gun, rendering every single muscle in her body motionless. But the shock wore off fast. “I find you half-naked in that woman’s room after you were gone all night, and that’s what you say to me? Have you lost your mind?”

He looked at her as if she’d lost hers. Then he turned away again. Moved inside the closet.

“Are you sleeping with Natasia?”

“No.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He stepped back into the bedroom. His lips, upturned as if he was grinning. But his eyes were raging with wrath.

Made him look like a madman.

“You don’t believe me? You’re the liar.”

“This is not about me,” Jasmine screamed. “This is about you. And Natasia.”

He laughed, a gurgle from his throat.

Made him sound like a madman.

“You want to know about Natasia?” He moved toward her. Halting steps. Eyes glaring. Mouth twisted.

He was a madman.

And now, she was very afraid. But stood stoic, like she had courage.

Standing right in front of her face, he said, “I am not having an affair. That’s it. That’s everything. Now you know.”

She crossed her arms and returned his glare. Told him with her stance that she didn’t believe him.

He said, “Now that I’ve told you, why don’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” she spat.

“About you and Kenny.”

She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Couldn’t feel the blood pumping through her veins. She needed to sit down to stay alive.

“Kenny?” she squeaked. Thoughts were already swirling, forming together to shape lies.

“Yes, Kenny.” Hosea stood over her. A giant. “Remember him? Your first husband. The one you forgot to tell me about. No,” he held up his hands. “You didn’t forget. You just straight-out lied.” He pointed his finger in her face. “Like I said,
you’re
the liar.” He stomped away.

“Hosea, please,” her voice, softer now. “I didn’t know…I’m sorry.”

“Are you even divorced?” he asked from the other side of the bed.

“Yes!”

“How do I know that? Give me one reason to believe you.”

“I have the divorce papers—” She stopped. Remembered that she didn’t have the papers anymore. Remembered how she’d burned them the night before their wedding so that he would never find them.

“You have divorce papers?”

She shook her head. “Of course not with me. I don’t travel with them. But I was divorced here in Los Angeles. I can get the papers.”

He looked at her, then at the bed where she sat. He backed away and sank into the chair behind him. Head down. Eyes closed. “After Jacqueline, there were supposed to be no more lies.” He sounded so tired.

“There weren’t any more lies, Hosea.”

He looked straight at her now. “Really? Then tell me about Brian.”

Now she wanted to stand up. Click her heels three times and wake up in Kansas.

How did he find out?

“Are you sleeping with him?” She could hear his heartache in his tone.

Slowly, she shook her head.
Was that why you were with Natasia?
But she kept that question to herself. Finally she answered, “No, Hosea. I’m not sleeping with Brian.” She was grateful to be able to tell that truth. “I love you. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Didn’t you love me when you slept with him before?”

She fought back her tears. “I was falling in love with you.” Her voice quivered. “But I was different then. I’m not like that now.”

“No, now you’re just a liar.”

Her sobs were stuck in her throat. “Kenny is an old lie.”

He paused. And then he laughed. “I’ve never heard that before. I guess old lies are better than new ones.”

“All I’m saying is that I haven’t lied to you since we got back together. And I never told you about Kenny because I didn’t know how.”

“You didn’t know how to tell the truth?”

She nodded. “I was afraid that I would lose you.”

“The best way to lose me is to lie to me.” He stood, snatched his jacket, then swiveled toward the door.

But she grabbed his arm. “You have to listen to me; you have to believe me,” she pleaded.

“Really?” He snatched his arm from her grasp. “Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Is that another lie?”

“No.”

“So now you know how to tell the truth?”

“Yes, I do. I’m different because of you.”

He shook his head and she wanted to shrink away from his glare. “You’re the same woman you were when I met you. And it’s time we both accepted that. You’ll always be Jasmine Larson.”

Inside she screamed that she was Jasmine Larson Bush. But she said nothing. Just watched him march right out the door.