Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

“I don’t think it’s just sex anymore,” I answered, making a left turn. “It feels real now. Almost too real…if that makes any sense.”

Frankie straightened in her seat. “What do you mean by ‘too real’?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, it’s a little different now because when we’re together, nothing interrupts it. We have so much free time on our hands and I’m learning so much about him and what he likes…it’s just interesting, I suppose.”

“Do you think it will last?” she inquired.

That question really got to me. Like I’d said, I had my doubts, but lately, Cane and I felt like we were growing closer together, not further apart. “I’m…just taking it day by day.”

“God,” she groaned. “The sneaking around must be getting exhausting, but I totally get why you’re doing it.” She shifted in her seat, running a hand over the screen of her phone. “You don’t ever think that…maybe it’s only temporary? Or like maybe it’s just the thrill of it that makes you want him so much?” I looked her way when I stopped at a stoplight. Her eyes were dead serious, her lips pressed thin.

“I…always question that. But I’ve known Cane for too long to think of it as just a thrill anymore. Is it exciting to be with him? Yes. But it’s always been exciting to be around him. At least to me it has.”

“Hmm.” She lowered her gaze again.

“Frank,” I said through a forced laugh. “What is going on with you?”

She snapped her gaze up. “Nothing, I swear. I’m fine, K.J.!”

“Are you sure? You know I hate pushing for answers, but I feel like there’s something you aren’t telling me. Is it because we don’t get to hang out as much anymore?”

“No.” She laughed. “Maybe you’re just paranoid because you’re still banging your dad’s ex-best friend and thinking the whole world knows about it, when really only like five people do?”

I broke out in a laugh, pushing her with my elbow. She giggled, and then turned up the volume of the radio. She was avoiding something, but I decided to let it go until later. Not that I had much time to get deeper into it. I was pulling into Cane’s neighborhood several minutes later.

I parked in front of his house and spotted a car I’d never seen before parked a few feet ahead.

“Is someone else here?” Frankie asked, unclipping her seatbelt.

“I’m not sure. Maybe his sister with a new car?” At least, that’s what I hoped. A part of me was afraid it was Kelly and at the thought of it, my heart sank to the pit of my stomach. It couldn’t be. He would have warned me—sent a text or something.

I pushed out of the car and headed toward the door with Frankie at my side. I rang the doorbell, too afraid to just walk inside like usual. It took a few minutes, but the door finally swung open and behind it was aqua hair and round brown glasses.

Lora! Oh, thank God.

“Hey little angel!” she chimed. “Look at you in your adorable-as-fuck dress with your even more adorable-as-fuck friend!” Lora let us inside and Frankie snorted.

“Who are you?” Frank asked.

“You mean to tell me that Kandy hasn’t told you all about me?” Lora shoved a hand on her hip, eyeing me. “I thought we were cool, kid?”

I giggled. “Frank knows all about you, Lora.”

“Oh, this is Lora! Oh my gosh she really is pretty!”

“What, did Kandy tell you I was ugly?” Lora teased.

I laughed. “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight too. Cane didn’t mention it. Who’s car is that out there?”

“Oh. Yeah. Cane got tired of me using the Mercedes he hardly drives and me calling up an Uber, so he caved and finally got me one.” She shrugged, but I saw a brief look of despair run like a shadow over her face before she waved a dismissive hand and said, “My mom is cooking. Cane can’t cook a meal to save his life, but my Mom makes the best stuffed ravioli. You haven’t met our mom yet, have you?”

“No, I haven’t.” My heart sped up a notch just thinking about the woman who birthed the man I loved. When I’d visited before, his mom would be away or doing something and vice versa for me.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet her. Cane is upstairs on a quick call but he should be back down in a minute. Come on.” She ushered us inside but I noticed how quickly she locked the door when we were a few steps ahead of her. I decided to ignore it, and let her walk around me to lead the way to the kitchen.

The kitchen was bright and lively, several different mouth-watering aromas floating in the air. A thin woman stood over pots and pans on the stove, most of them billowing steam, with a black apron on and her brown hair pulled up into a really long ponytail. It seemed she hadn’t cut her hair in years, but somehow the untamed, simple look suited her. Her hair was the same shade of brown as Cane’s, with a few gray wisps in between.