SUNNY
Darrel’s kiss ruined me for life.
Not because his lips were warm and scrumptious. Or because he handled that kiss like he’d been waiting years to taste me. Or because he was solid as steel and who knew Darrel Hastings could be a gentleman who’d want consent before going to second base?
No, I’m ruined because I’m in my couch, twelve hours later, reliving that kiss and trying to pretend that everything is fine.
It’s not fine.
I’m not fine.
I have work to do. I’m supposed to be drafting a concept for a potential client. I need to wow this family because I have no other job lined up, and I’m desperate to jumpstart my fledgling business.
I should have already emailed this draft, and the fact that I’m here daydreaming is not cool. The rent, electricity bills and gas prices don’t care that I’m still reeling from Darrel’s sexy mouth.
Focus, Sunny. Focus.
Interior design is an art. Like painting or writing or dancing. I can’t go through the motions or it’ll reflect in my concept.
Unfortunately, my brain cells are stuck on the kiss. It’s running on a loop in my mind and it refuses to leave me alone.
This is my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed Darrel back. Or guided his hand over my body so he could feel me up. Or stuck my fingers under his shirt and scratched his lean, golden muscles with my nails. And I definitely shouldn’t have waited as long as I did to clarify that the kiss meant nothing.
A big fat lie, of course.
Darrel Hastings made me forget who I was, who he was and how, for over a year, he’s been treating me like the town leper. I’m an idiot for indulging in him. We’ve been at odds since the day we met. Now that my tongue got intimately acquainted with his throat, I’m suddenly jumping on the Darrel-train?
I pick up my laptop and scrape the digital drawing pen over the screen, waiting for inspiration to strike.
Instead, Darrel’s face appears in front of me, those green eyes dark and disarming. I remember his voice growling, ‘stop talking, Sunny’ and a shiver runs down my spine. He got me to stop talking alright. I couldn’t say a single word after that kiss.
My phone rings in the silence.
Glad for a new distraction, I pounce on it and answer. “Hello?”
“It’s me.”
I straighten when I hear Shanya’s voice.
“Did you receive the payment?”
I pull my laptop close, maneuver to my bank and check the accounts. With a sigh of relief, I answer, “Yes.”
“Good.” Shanya speaks in a dry, I couldn’t be bothered with this conversation tone. “I have another project for you.”
My eyelashes flutter. “What?”
“I can email the drafts or you can come in to pick them up. Which would you prefer?” In the background, papers shuffle and an intern whispers, ‘Shanya, we need your approval on these wallpaper choices’.
“I don’t remember saying I’d come back to work for you.” My voice holds a hint of annoyance.
Something clatters. It’s probably Shanya, whipping her glasses off her nose the way she always does when she’s exasperated. “Sunny, darling, let’s not do this whole ‘I’m an independent woman’ song and dance.”
“Shanya—”
“I was young once, you know. I know what you’re feeling.”
“And what am I feeling?”
“Invincible.” She sighs. “But guess what, Sunny. The world is a cold and hard place. After the Stinton Incident, you probably understand what I’m talking about.”
“For your information, I solved the Stinton Incident.”
She laughs. “No, you didn’t.”
Fine. Technically, I didn’t solve the Stinton incident, but somehow Max Stinton returned my money and made everything okay. Why is Shanya throwing that in my face like it means something?
“Honey, Max Stinton was threatened into returning your money. You think they care that much about you? You’re a blip on their radar. They have much bigger things to worry about. You weren’t even on the list.”
I gulp. “No, you’re wrong. I asked my friends if they intervened. Alistair didn’t—”
“Darrel Hastings.”
I freeze.
“Darrel Hastings is a friend of Max Stinton. He made the call.”
“What?”
“Didn’t you know?” She laughs softly. “I guess you didn’t. My dear Sunny, it seems your exotic little face has caught the eye of a powerful man. You know Hastings, right? The client who slid me a blank cheque and told me to give you everything your little heart desired. He didn’t want you lifting a finger, you sweet thing. Chivalry really isn’t dead.”
My eyelashes flutter. “You told me he gave us that cash because he wanted me out of his hair. Now I’m supposed to believe that Darrel—”
“Did I say that?” She laughs.
My heart burns like flames are licking at the edges of it. “You lied to me?”
“Made my own interpretation is a more apt description.”
“Shanya!” My stomach quivers.
“The thing is, Sunny, you could easily jump off the treadmill and become a trophy wife for someone like Hastings. It wouldn’t be a bad gig. He’s from a good family. Military father. Heiress mother. A professional career that’s nothing to sneeze at. And he’s willing to spend on you, darling. It could be worse.” She pauses. “But I don’t think that’s what you’re interested in.”
“How do you know that?” I spit. I’m confused and frustrated and angry that we’re even having this conversation. “Maybe I want to be Darrel Hasting’s trophy wife.”
“No, you don’t.” She pauses. “Do you know why I hired you?”
“Because I’m damn good at designing.”
“Because I look at you and I see a little of myself.”
“Then you know why I can’t go back to working for you.”
“Oh, on the contrary. I could be the…” She smacks her lips and I imagine her fluttering her tan fingers as she searches for the right word, “sprawling mahogany tree under which your little branches will flourish.”
“Relying on you is the same as relying on Darrel, isn’t it? You’re using one argument to cancel your own point.”
“I’m showing you that no one gets ahead in this world without help. You thought, in your utter naïveté, that a conglomerate as big and influential as Stinton Group cared about little old you.” The amount of sarcasm in her words could choke me. “Now, you’re hit with the hard reality. The truth, dear Sunny, is… if a rich man didn’t want to screw you, you’d still be in the same desperate predicament. You’d still be scrambling to pay your bills and losing credibility in the business.”
My fingers coil into fists. “You’re crossing a line, Shanya.”
“I’m giving you the wake up call of your life, Sunny. Running your own business and being an entrepreneur might seem glamorous on the outside, but you can’t look at those social media stars taking pictures on yachts with bottles of champagne and think success just happens. You need someone to propel you. You need me. And yes, you can continue your little excursion into being your own boss and squabble around in the shadows, flailing your way up the ladder only to be kicked down again. Or, you can stick a middle finger to the system, join hands with me, and become someone great.”
“Is there an Option C?”
She laughs. “That wit of yours. I’d forgotten how… outspoken you could be.”
“I’m not coming back to work for you. My dream is to design the way I want and build my own brand. That can’t happen if I’m working for someone else and building their company instead of my own.” My voice rises passionately. “I know this isn’t going to be easy, but I signed up for that. I’ll stand by the words I said when I walked out of your office, Shanya. I will conquer the interior design world. And I’ll do it by my own hands, not because of who I’m sleeping with.”
“Well, you’re certainly full of fire.” She yawns. “I’m bored. Call me when you’ve gotten off your soap box.”
“I won’t.”
“There will always be a place here for you.”
“Thank you. I know you don’t mean to sound like you care for me, but it’s still nice to hear that I’ll always have a job.”
“On that warm and fuzzy note, I’ll say goodbye, Sunny.”
I hang up and release a shaky breath. My old boss’s words settle on my chest. He didn’t want you lifting a finger. It’s possible she misunderstood Darrel’s intentions. He needed the boys’ rooms completed for his own reasons. That part might have nothing at all to do with me.
What I can’t explain is why Darrel got involved in my Stinton Investment troubles. He had no reason to do that and got no benefit from it at all. He wasn’t even looking for a thank you. He kept it a secret, and I never would have found out if it hadn’t been for Shanya.
My heart thumps faster and faster. Does that mean… did he go to all that trouble because he likes me? And maybe the kiss last night wasn’t just crossing the thin line between hate and lust? Did it mean something more?
A knock at the door jerks my head up. I blink as another knock shakes the foundations of my building. It sounds like a heavy fist beating a drum.
“Darrel?” I whisper. My feet carry me to the door before I realize that I’m in an oversized T-shirt, pants with period stains on them, and my hair is a mess.
I can’t let him see me like this.
More knocks shudder the door.
“Just a minute!” I yell. Skittering backwards, I race into my room and tear through my closet.
I don’t want to keep Darrel waiting too long, but I also can’t figure out what to wear. What outfit says ‘I think I like you too; can you kiss me again’ without being too obvious?
I finally grab a knitted, green body-con dress that looks casual enough for lounge wear but is tight enough that it shows off my best assets.
I tear my ponytail holder out of my hair, cry out like I’ve been scalped when I see all the long, dark strands that escaped with it, and then run a brush through the entire mess until it shines.
Makeup. I tap my fingers against my chin. Do I go all out or… No, I don’t have time for that. I settle for spritzing perfume on my wrist. Then I pause to dab it behind my ears because I want Darrel smelling something good when he growls in there.
Gloss is the last thing I grab. I scrape it over my mouth and make a mad dash for the front door. Pause, Sunny. Breathe. You don’t want to look too eager. I close my eyes and take deep, calming breaths until my chest stops pumping up and down like an inflatable balloon. When I’m ready, I open the door and fix my lips into a sultry smile.
“Hey, I wasn’t expecting… gah!” I jump back when my eyes collide with a five-foot-two Mayan woman with shiny black hair, a flared nose, and a crooked scowl. “Mom? What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” She stomps into my room like an ancient chief barging into a temple for the yearly sacrifice. “What am I doing here?” Her voice is louder this time. A little more shrill.
“You’ve repeated the question twice, but you still haven’t answered,” I point out.
Mom slants me a dark look that all Caribbean mothers know and wield with confidence. I shirk back. Usually, I wouldn’t be this mouthy with my mother, but the words escaped because of shock.
And, if I’m honest, a little disappointment too.
It was supposed to be Darrel. Why is mom showing up without warning?
“I had to see for myself.”
“See what?”
“If my daughter’s lost her mind!” Mom’s eyes bore into my skull. “How could you let Gabor walk away?”
“Mom, you travelled all this way just to scream at me about Gabor?” I want to roll my eyes, but I also want to live to see my thirties, so I restrain myself.
“No, no, no.” She waves a tan finger. I step back. When the finger-wagging starts, it’s time to duck because slippers and hands will be flying next.
I keep going until I’m a safe distance away. “Gabor was a great guy.”
“Even more reason to secure your relationship.”
“Mom, no one ‘secures a relationship’ after one date.”
“That’s the problem with you young people. You want to date around and jump from one relationship to another. It wouldn’t be like that if you were back in the village. You and Gabor would have already been betrothed before either of you had a say in it.”
“And both of us would have been miserable.”
“You don’t know that, Sunita.” Her lips fade into a thin line. She’s scowling so hard that all her wrinkles are tightening to form the lines on a treasure map. “You said yourself that Gabor was a good man.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to get married to someone just because they’re a nice guy. There’s more to it than that.”
“What more? You want a nice Mayan man who knows how to work the land and pass the culture down to your children. That is the ultimate goal.”
“What about love, mom?”
“Love?” She bursts out laughing. “Do you think love is feeling giddy around a man? You think it’s when the heart picks up speed and you want to jump into bed with him every time you see him?”
If it is, then I’m definitely feeling that way with Darrel. Had he walked through the door instead of mom, one of us would have had our clothes off by now.
“No, Sunita.” Mom breaks into my risqué vision of Darrel whipping his shirt off. I know I’ve got it bad if I’m thinking inappropriately about Darrel in front of a parent. “Love is staying committed even when the heart cools down, the adrenaline rush flees, and your breasts are saggy. Love is stretch marks over your stomach, enduring hard times together, and building your community in a way that only you can because you both know what it is like to be different.”
“You know what love isn’t, mom? It’s not forcing myself to marry a man because he’s Mayan or because my mother really wants me to.”
“I have seen the men you pick on your online dating sites, Sunny. It is a joke. You don’t have any luck finding the right partner. I am trying to help you.”
“You are trying to control me. And the problem is, mom, you can push me towards a Mayan man all you want. But at the end of the day, you won’t have to live with him. I will. So shouldn’t I have a say?”
Her eyes narrow in annoyance. “Gabor was a good man. I spoke to him myself, and I was impressed. He’s charming, handsome, smart. You both have a lot in common. What is the problem?”
“Maybe he’s too perfect, mom. Ever think of that?”
“Too perfect? You’re just as perfect as he is. You’re… you’re perfect together.”
“We wanted different things.” Like… I wanted a whole other man and Gabor didn’t want the drama.
“That makes no sense.”
“I don’t know how else to explain it.”
“Tell me what the real problem was, Sunita.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Gabor didn’t tell his parents I brought a non-Mayan man to our date. If he had, mom wouldn’t have been so calm during this discussion. And yes, this is mom being calm.
I owe him big time for not ratting me out. Unfortunately, my mom isn’t easily fooled. I don’t know what to say to get her off the scent.
“Mom, I…”
Thankfully, her phone rings.
She glances at it and a few of her wrinkles smooth out. “It’s your father. He asked me to call him when I arrived, but I was so upset I forgot.”
“You can talk to him in my room.” I point down the hallway.
She gives me a stink eye. “Don’t think about going anywhere. I’ll be right here after I take this call.”
“I wouldn’t dream of running away, mom,” I mumble. She’d track me down and drag me home to marry a perfect Mayan guy before I could board the plane.
Mom hooks two fingers at her eyebrows, juts them at me, and then picks up dad’s call. “Hey, honey. Yes, I got here safely.”
Hopefully, dad can calm my mother down. He’s always on my side, although he’s quiet about it because he doesn’t want mom to get upset.
‘You marry any man you want to, Sunita. Doesn’t matter what his color is or where he’s from. That’s what I did. I fell in love with a woman from a different culture, and it was the best decision of my life.”
With a weary sigh, I trudge to the door. It’s been hanging open ever since mom arrived. Great. Now all my neighbors know my business. Thanks mom.
I fling the door shut, but a hand slides into the crack just before it closes.
It’s Darrel.
His chest pumps up and down in violent movements. His hair’s a mess and sweat is trickling down the side of his face.
“Darrel? What are you…”
“Sunny, I have something to tell you.” He places his hand on my shoulder. I’m not sure if he’s doing that because he needs a physical connection or because his knees might give out any second. “For so long, I’ve been trying to ignore the way I feel about you. I told myself I hated you, but that wasn’t true. I hated that I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I hated that I looked for you every time you stepped into a room. I hated that you were still in my heart no matter how hard I tried to get you out.”
“Darrel.” I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder. Mom is still in my room, but she won’t be on the phone with dad forever. As much as I want to squeal over Darrel’s love confession, the fear that mom will discover us is pressing around my skin. “Now’s not the—”
“I know it might not seem like the right time. You’re right. You are. I haven’t been granted custody of the boys yet and I’m still adjusting to being a guardian. There are some other things I need to work through. Trust me. I’m aware. But I couldn’t go another day without telling you that you’re—”
“Alright, honey,” Mom croons from the hallway. “I’ll tell her.”
My panic reaches a boiling point when Darrel steps into my apartment. His green eyes fasten on the hallway and he blinks. “Is someone here?”
“Yes. My mom.” I plant my hands on his back and shove him at the door.
“Your mom?” He lights up. “Should I say hi?”
“No,” I hiss. “You should definitely not say—”
“Sunita, your father wants me to send his love. He wanted to be here too, but he couldn’t take the time off from teaching. You know, teachers don’t get the respect they deserve, chained to a classroom for so many days on end. Summer and winter breaks really aren’t enough.”
“You’re right, mom,” I call back. Then I shoot Darrel a frazzled stare. “Go!” I windmill my arms and point to the curtains. “Hide!”
Darrel scurries around the couch and ducks behind it just as mom pops out of the hallway. She stops short when she sees me, her mom-antennas twitching as she studies my face. I sweat so hard it feels like there’s a rain cloud over my head.
Hoping my voice sounds casual and relaxed, I ask, “What’s up?”
“Why is the door open, Sunita? Was someone here?” Her eyebrows pinch.
“Someone? No. Noo. Who would be here?” Certainly not a burly billionaire who just confessed to not being able to stop thinking about me.
I would be melting and smiling and kissing Darrel right now if mom wasn’t here, making me fear for my life every time she so much as flicks her eyes to the couch. He’s such a giant man that I can see his back. Wasn’t his dad in the military? He should be able to hold a better plank than that.
“Sunny, what do you keep looking at?” Mom twists her head in the direction of the couch.
“Ah! Mom!” I step forward and grab her face.
She jumps as if I mauled her. “Why are you shouting, Sunita?”
“I’m not shouting. I’m just,” I choke out a laugh, “so glad to see you. You never visit.”
“I can say the same to you. The train goes in both directions, you know.”
“You’re right. You’re always right, mom.” My gaze darts to Darrel again. “How about you and I go to my favorite brunch place, huh? We can chat over fry jacks.”
“I make better fry jacks than them.” Mom humphs.
She’s right, but I can’t have her in the apartment right now. “They have a lot of other Caribbean food on the menu. They have Johnny cakes, Belizean tacos, and meat pies. You know you love meat pies, mom. And it’s hard to find a decent meat pie place here.” I step a little to the side, my fingers digging into her shoulder as I twist her around. “You can have as much as you want.”
“I already had breakfast.” She brushes my hand off her shoulder.
“Then…. Then,” I yelp. “Dessert!”
“What?” Her nose scrunches and her eyebrows dip.
“I’m suddenly craving something sweet.” I rub my stomach. “How about we go get jam rolls from a cafe?”
“Sunita, don’t think you can distract me with food. I came all the way here for one reason only—to set you back up with Gabor.”
Darrel makes a disgruntled sound.
Mom’s head whips in his direction.
I slam a fist to my mouth and start coughing like I have a terminal disease. Slinging a hand over my stomach, I shake my head. “Sorry, mom. I’m just not feeling well.”
“Sunita,” she speaks in a low, firm voice. “What is going on? Why are you behaving so strangely?”
“Mom, I’m fine. I just don’t want to talk about arranged marriages anymore.”
Mom’s jaw drops as if she’s personally offended. Her voice is a frustrated shriek, “I am not arranging a marriage. You have all the choice to marry or not. What I’m doing is arranging a date since you don’t seem too interested in taking control of your own love life.”
Darrel pokes his head out from the corner of the chair. His eyes collide with mine how long do I have to be back here?
Get back. I punctuate each silent instruction with a wave of my hand. Then I catch mom watching me and lift my hand to fan my face. “Whoo. It’s hot in here, isn’t it?”
“Sunita,” Mom has to rise slightly on her tiptoes to grip my shoulder, so I bend my knees to make it easier on her, “you are not getting any younger. Soon, you will be thirty and no Mayan man will want you. Women who choose their career over a family tend to regret it. I don’t want that for you.”
I sigh heavily. “Mom, lots of women do have a career and a family later on in life. When you’re older, you’re more mature and you know more about yourself, about your value, and about how you want to be treated. I want someone who…” I gesture with my hands, “supports me but isn’t afraid to challenge me. I want someone who chooses me even if I’m different and loud and a little crazy sometimes. I want someone who’s taking care of two little boys because they need a home and he made a promise.”
“What? Children? No, no, no. You don’t want any man who has kids, Sunita. Why would he make kids with another woman and expect you to take care of them? That might be okay for Kenya, but not for you.”
“Mom.”
“I’m tired.” Her eyelashes flutter. “Tired of your arguments and your excuses. So far, you have not given me one good reason for rejecting Gabor. Now I’ve confirmed that it was your Westernized ideas driving him away. I’m going to fix—aaah!”
Mom’s wail of terror catches me off guard and I nearly jump out of my skin. She digs her fingers into her purse. “Sunita,” her voice drops to barely above a whisper, “don’t be alarmed.” Mom edges closer to me. The rough fabric of her skirt itches my skin. “But I think there’s someone in the house with us.”
If my heart flogs my ribs any harder, it’s going to crack something. I grab my mother’s hand. “You must have seen wrong.”
“I did not,” she hisses. Eyes glued to the back of the chair, mom whispers, “Sunita, call 9-1-1.”
I hold her back. “Mom, there’s nothing—”
She shakes me off again. “Do it.”
I pull out my phone. I’m not just panicking right now. I’m full-out losing my mind.
Mom grabs the measuring stick that I keep tucked behind my china closet in the living room. Gripping the ruler with both hands, she slowly approaches the couch.
Cracking under the pressure, I lurch at her. “Mom, wait!”
“Burglar!” Mom screams like a banshee and brings the ruler down so hard on Darrel’s back, the giant man crashes to the floor. “Burglar!” Another wallop. This time, he sprawls out like a crushed cockroach.
“Mom, stop!” I jump on her hand to keep her from murdering an innocent man.
She wrestles with me. Damn. This woman is strong for her age. I barely manage to snatch the ruler away from her.
“Mom, mom. He’s not a burglar. He’s not!”
Darrel groans and slowly pushes up on his hands and knees. Green eyes swim with pain and his lips tremble slightly. He places a hand against his back as if he can still feel the ruler cracking over his skin.
I meet his eyes. I am so sorry.
He blinks rapidly and climbs to his feet, using the back of the couch to prop himself up.
“If he’s not a burglar, what is he doing in this house?” Mom yells.
“He’s…” I hesitate.
Her sharp eyes swerve to me. “Sunita Quetzal, why do you have a man creeping around your house. Are you insane?”
“Hi, Mrs. Quetzal.” Darrel extends his arm. “I’m Darrel Hastings. And I’m…” His gaze glides to me. “In love with your daughter.”
Mom’s jaw drops.
Then she makes a grab for the ruler as if she wants to beat Darrel again.
“Mom! Mom!” I wrap my arms around her. “It’s not his time to die yet.”
“Only God knows when we’re supposed to go. And He told me, today was this punk’s day!”
Darrel flinches, but he stands his ground. Impressive. That courage deserves a kiss. If he makes it past this day, of course. I’m not kissing a corpse.
“Sunita.” Mom stops fighting. I let her go, still keeping an eye on her. Shoulders hunched, she flares her nose like a bull and glares at me. “Explain.”
“Mom, Darrel is Alistair’s brother-in-law. Remember Alistair? Kenya’s fiancé?”
“Yes, I know him.”
“He’s… we’re… this is…” I slant Darrel a panicked look.
“I don’t care what this is.” Mom points at Darrel. “Tell me. Is he the man you were going on about? The one who challenges you?” Her eyes widen. “The one who has two kids?”
“They’re… um.. yes.” I cringe.
Mom slaps a hand to her forehead and moans. “Ay-ya.”
“They’re really special boys, mom. Their names are Bailey and Micheal. You wouldn’t believe how intelligent they are. I—”
“Enough.” Mom lifts a hand.
I exchange another look with Darrel.
He steps forward. “Mrs. Quetzal, I’ve known Sunny for a long time and I can assure you that the feelings I have for her are the kind that don’t go away. I’ll treat your daughter preciously and I’ll love her for the rest of my life. That’s a promise.”
Mom scoffs and glances away. “You think a promise means anything?”
“I know we’ve just met, ma’am. But once I make a promise, I keep it no matter what.”
“My daughter is not getting involved with a man who has two kids. She has her whole life ahead of her. But you? You see her dark skin and her Mayan eyes and her Mayan nose and you think she is someone you can push around. Someone you can turn into your prostitute and your babysitter.”
Darrel shakes his head. “Ma’am, I don’t think there’s a living soul who can push Sunny around.”
Mom makes another annoyed grunt.
“She’s more precious to me than you could imagine.” Darrel glances at me, his eyes soft. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.” He returns his attention to mom. “I don’t really know your culture, but I respect it. I respect Sunny. She’s… the boys and I, we don’t just want her. We need her.” His voice gets rough. “She’s family.”
I send heart eyes in Darrel’s direction.
Mom goes deathly silent. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Wait. Mom, where are you going?” I follow her as she marches to the door.
“I’m going to pretend this conversation never happened.” She gestures between me and Darrel.
“Ignoring it isn’t going to change the facts, mom.”
“Fine. Do it your way. Date this man all you want.” Her eyes darken. “But when it is time to marry, you must marry a Mayan man.”
