Page 9 of Three of Hearts

"I have, like, a top three in each genre, but I don't think I can narrow it down to one single book," I replied.

"That makes sense."

"What about you?"

"Yeah. ‘Blue Like Mourning’ by D. Miller. Have you read it?"

I hoped like hell she thought my silence was me trying to remember if I'd read the book, but the truth was Quincy and I were exchanging an entire conversation with our faces. I shook my head slightly, letting him know I had no intention of telling her I was the author of her favorite book. For some reason, I didn't want that fact to change our dynamic. I didn't want her to be a fan or see me as I saw some of my favorite authors. So instead of telling her the truth, I played stupid.

"Um, no. What's it about?" I asked. I watched Q's face drop, realizing I might have fucked up by lying.

"Healing through the grief of someone close to you committing suicide," she said, her voice soft and raw. "I don't think I've ever related to a book so much. It was like she was writing my story. Except I didn't lose a spouse. It was my cousin, but we grew up like siblings. The book is so beautifully written. Have you ever read a book that made you want to sit down and pick the author's mind? I just want to talk to her and let her know she healed something in me when she wrote that."

Tears threatened to fall from my eyes as I rubbed up and down her arm, my thumb tracing the delicate skin on the inside of her elbow. First, I hated that she knew that kind of pain. I hated that she experienced even a portion of the hurt I had written about in my book. But second, I was humbled. Humbled because my words held the kind of power I had intended, even though it wasn't really my story to tell. My sister's husband, my brother-in-law, had taken his own life, and I had to watch how that affected her. I watched her fight and break and crawl and stumble through years of depression and grief. I admired her strength because I don't know if I could ever be as strong. Shegave me her blessing to tell her story, so I did, because there was immense beauty in her perseverance.

"Wow, that's beautiful, Nikki," I said, my voice breaking. I grabbed her wrist and rubbed my hand over the tattoo I had noticed at the club, the ink now taking on new weight and meaning. It made a lot more sense now. "Is that what this is for?"

"Yeah," she whispered, "I was really depressed for a while after it happened. That book helped me get through."

I could tell so many different thoughts were going through Q's head. Probably disappointment in the fact that I had lied to her, but also empathy for the amount of vulnerability it took to share that part of herself with us. He pressed several kisses to her forehead before there was a knock at the door, signaling that our food was here.

We enjoyed the lavish breakfast Q ordered for all of us: stuffed French toast, scrambled eggs, sausage, country potatoes, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. We found ourselves getting lost in conversation again, and miraculously, the topic of our occupations never came up. I was sure that was because careers were a sensitive subject since she had just lost hers. I felt really bad about that. I found myself wondering if she was going to be okay come Monday when reality sank in. I was worried for her, but she hadn't seemed fazed by it at all, reconfirming my Lynn theory. The longer we sat and talked, the more I felt drawn to her, like gravity had shifted and she was the center. She wasn't just a pretty face and masterful seductress. She was unbelievably smart, funny, and witty. I almost felt bad that my normal laser-focused attention was being pulled to the images replaying in my head. The taste of her still on my tongue, the way she had slid against me, her fingers tangled in my hair. But between the flashbacks of her riding my face, I was able to conclude that hermind turned me on just as much as her body. The chemistry between the three of us felt organic and inevitable, like we had been moving toward this moment our whole lives. I couldn't help but notice Quincy looking at her the same way I was, in awe of the woman who had just shared herself so intimately with us, who had let us see her. We had another long day ahead of us, and none of us had slept very long, but that didn't stop me from wanting to prolong the time we spent with her, to memorize the way she laughed and all of her facial expressions.

I was sad when we realized the sun was up. At that point, we knew it was just irresponsible if we were planning on getting our money's worth from the event. So we kissed her goodbye, slow and lingering, so she could prepare for the day while Q and I decided to get a few more hours of sleep in. Despite his best efforts with breakfast, I was going to be nursing a mild hangover, so I needed the rest. But I was restless in Q's arms, my skin humming with absence, already feeling like something was missing.

Chapter 9

Quincy

We knocked on Nikki's door for the third time, the sound echoing down the empty hallway with no answer. We had overslept way past our intended time to wake up. Niecy had finally fallen asleep after tossing and turning for a while, her body restless against mine, and I was in a coma from the mix of post-sex fatigue and stuffed French toast-it is. I was certain Nikki was either still in a deep sleep behind that door or had already gotten a head start on joining the event for the day.

"I'm sure we'll see her downstairs. We should go," I suggested, moving toward the elevators. Niecy hesitated, her eyes lingering on the door, but followed. I pushed the down button and stood back, looking at my wife who was deep in thought, her brow furrowed and her lower lip caught between her teeth.

"Why didn't you feel comfortable telling her the truth?" I asked, as the elevator dinged its arrival.

"I don't know. I guess I didn't want that to change how she saw me. I should probably just tell her, huh?"

"I would. You don't want her finding out any other way."

A lot of people didn't know what their favorite authors looked like, especially if they weren't on social media like that. Niecy had maintained an air of mystery about her when it came to her writing career, writing under the pen name D. Miller. A lot of her readers even assumed she was a man. But all it took was aGoogle search for her picture to pop up from one of her many book signings.

"You're right. I'll try to get a private moment and tell her today," she said, stepping onto the elevator.

We made our way across the street, through the crowded lobby, past the congested lines, and found our way to the ballroom holding the keynote speaker event. We took our seats just as Jahquel J, Wahida Clark, Aubree Pynn, and Ladii Nesha walked onto the stage to a thunderous applause. I was thankful I wasn't being quizzed on their discussion because my mind wasn't present in that room, not even in the same building. It was still back in our hotel, giving me a highlight reel of all the erotic things I'd been involved in just a few hours earlier. It was particularly fond of the heat in Nikki's eyes when she ate my wife's pussy, that fierce concentration, the way her tongue moved with purpose like she was starving and Niecy was the only thing on the menu. It was intoxicating to witness, the kind of thing that branded itself on your memory. Holding Niecy as they rubbed their clits together was another flashback my mind wouldn't stop showing me, the slick friction, the sounds they made, the way their bodies moved together. Another applause erupted through the crowd and I clapped along out of pure conditioning, my hands meeting while my head stayed elsewhere, but I had no idea what I was applauding. I could tell Niecy was just as distracted by her thoughts as I was, biting her lip raw and taking sips from her Stanley every couple minutes. I knew when my wife was anxious. She did a terrible job at trying to conceal it, all her emotions written across her face in permanent marker. I knew she was sitting there playing the conversation over in her head, rehearsing the words, the pauses, the possible reactions, about how she was going to come clean to Nikki about being the author of ‘Blue Like Mourning’. I admiredNiecy's humble spirit and could understand that Nikki knowing who she was could change how she saw her, could put her on a pedestal or behind a glass wall. However, I had far more years of experience with women than Niecy, and I learned a long time ago to just be fucking honest. Because one, women somehow find out everything anyway, the universe conspiring to reveal secrets at the worst possible moment, and two, a clear conscience is priceless, worth more than any temporary comfort a lie might buy you. My wife didn't make a habit of lying, so that's when I knew this wasn't just a kinky sex fantasy she wanted to see through. She cared about what Nikki thought about her and that scared me. Not because I was jealous, but because I knew how easily a woman could break your heart.

When the keynote event was over, Niecy let me know there were a couple more authors she wanted to visit before we headed back to the hotel to pack up for our evening flight back home. Making our way through the sea of people trying to lug around totes full of books, I could tell Niecy was keeping her eye out for Nikki, her head swiveling at every flash of a woman with locs. I couldn't lie, I was too. I was hoping we could at least say a proper goodbye, exchange numbers and make promises about keeping in touch. But she was nowhere to be found. Luckily, we ran into Raina and Gina as we were making our way back to the hotel, their faces familiar in the sea of strangers.

"There you guys are!"

Niecy and I looked up at the same time to see both Raina and Gina hitting a jog to catch up to us crossing at the green light.

"Where have y'all been all day?" Gina asked, her voice carrying over the street noise.

"We slept in and went to the keynote event. Where's Nikki?" Niecy couldn't help but ask, the question tumbling out beforeshe could stop it, noticing she wasn't with them like we had suspected, like we had hoped.

"Oh, she came to our room this morning and told us she was checking out early and skipping the event today," she said, the words casual, almost careless. "She said she wasn't feeling well."

"Oh," Niecy and I accidentally said in unison.