Chapter 13

RULE #12: FOOT RUBS ARE SEXUAL.

Musa

My palm has been itching for days. Every chance I get, I stare down at the lines that stretch from my wrist to my fingers and back again, thinking hard about what Precious said.

I'm destined for some great love.

I laughed at it for the first day or two. Then the idea began to settle in my mind. After Nokwanda, Bandi's mother, I wrote off the idea of love. Truthfully, long before that. What we had was fun — vibrant days of sex and youth, when forever felt possible, until an unexpected pregnancy and the reality of parenting and adulthood arrived.

It's hard to believe it's been twenty years since I gave love a proper effort. That was a long time ago, and the idea of a relationship started sounding like more of a hassle than it was worth.

The front door opens.

"It was so miserable out, I decided to walk. I hope I'm not late."

"You're fine," I mutter without looking up. When I finally do lift my eyes, I notice her cheeks are wet and her hair is flattened to her forehead.

Wait. She walked to the café? It's over two kilometres away. And it's not just drizzling out there — the southwester came in this morning and it's been coming down sideways since ten.

"Precious," I bark out coldly as I stand. "Why didn't you drive?"

Rushing toward her, I take the bags and touch her hands. They're freezing. My molars grind. Then I run my thumbs over her wet cheeks, and she winces.

"I'm fine." She pulls away, but as I look out the window, I catch a glimpse of her car parked next to mine, and I let out a heavy sigh.