Play Along(43)

“What he said though,” she begins, her tone frantic. “He wasn’t wrong. I . . . I don’t know how to be affectionate. The way they were with each other tonight, I want to be like that, but I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to be the kind of woman that a man would want.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think you’re not exactly the kind of woman a man would want. Just because you’re not comfortable with showing physical affection doesn’t make you any less of a woman, Ken.”

“But I want to be. Comfortable, I mean. With affection.”

“Okay,” I say softly, soothingly. “You’ll get there.”

She chews on her lower lip, eyes nervously finding mine, with a voice so quiet I’m certain I mishear her when she says, “Will you teach me?”





Chapter 13


Kennedy


“So you were in an arranged marriage.”

They’re the first words Isaiah has spoken to me since leaving the restaurant. After I asked him to teach me, he stood in shocked silence, mouth slightly agape. I swear minutes passed where he simply stared at me in disbelief before saying, “I need you to start from the beginning.” Then ushered me out to my waiting car, where we’re currently sitting in the back seat.

“We never got to the marriage part, but yeah. You could call it that, I guess.”

He rests his head back against the seat. “All these years, I thought you were engaged to someone you were in love with. I would’ve tried a little harder if I knew.”

“You tried plenty hard. Trust me.”

His lips tilt in a knowing smile. “I’m just saying. I would have pursued you a little more seriously, been a little more focused, than just blatantly hitting on you like an idiot because I knew I didn’t really have a chance anyway.”

It wouldn’t have mattered.

Partly because Isaiah isn’t someone I’d go for, but mostly because my eyes have never been open in that way. I knew from a young enough age that I’d be marrying for financial or business gain. There was no part of me that romanticized the notion of dating, falling in love, and marrying a person of my choosing.

That freedom was never on the table for me until now.

“So will you?” I ask Isaiah again, turning in the back seat to face him. “Teach me?”

“Fuck, Kenny,” he exhales, palm running down his face. “I’m too malnourished to have this conversation right now. Who in their right mind thinks it’s okay to charge those prices for two bites of food? Does anyone actually get full from eating at that fancy of a restaurant?”

“If they say they do, they’re lying.”

He checks on me out of the corner of his eye. “You hungry?”

“Starved.”

He grins to himself. “I have this place in mind. Real nice. Might be hard to get a table on a Friday night, but let’s try.”



“Chili’s.” My voice holds no inflection as I slide into the booth across from Isaiah. “The real nice place you had in mind is Chili’s.”

“Look around, Ken. This place is packed. Had to call in a few favors just to get us a table.”

“Well, lucky me, I guess.”

“I thought maybe my rich wife never had the privilege of eating at Chili’s.”

“I haven’t.” I raise a single brow, opening the menu in front of me. “Is this the part where you tell me to order anything I want and it’s on you?”

He scoffs. “Absolutely not. What do you think? That I’m made of money? You can order off the two-for-twenty menu, and if you’re a good girl and eat all your dinner, maybe I’ll splurge and get you a molten chocolate cake for dessert.”

I can’t contain the absolute cackle of a laugh that bursts out of me. The skin around Isaiah’s eyes crinkle with his smile, hiding his birthmark.

It’s dangerous. That smile. That face.

Isaiah makes an ungodly amount of money from his contract with the Warriors, but I decide to go along with it, flipping my menu to the back to select from the discounted selection.

I could not be more out of place in my Chanel dress and Louboutin heels, but I’ve also never felt more comfortable than I do sitting in a booth that’s covered in cracked vinyl, sharing a laugh with my technical husband.

Isaiah is good like that. Always knowing how to soothe the tension or ease an uncomfortable situation with a smile and a joke. Sometimes even at his own expense.

Our food is ordered and our drinks are delivered, when Isaiah finally asks, “So what exactly are you wanting me to teach you?”

His cheeks tinge pink at the question. It’s got to be illegal for cocky Isaiah Rhodes to be this cute when he’s shy.

I shrug. “Everything.”

He immediately chokes on the club soda he’s attempting to swallow.

“Fuck me,” he says, dipping his head. “For my sanity, I need to know if we have different definitions of ‘everything.’ ”

Swallowing, I cross my legs and straighten in the booth. This conversation would be embarrassing if I were having it with anyone else, but with all the weird things Isaiah and I are already faking, what’s adding one more aspect to our business agreement?

“I want to be normal.”